A Match Made in Mystery (14 page)

He softly rubbed his mouth over hers, setting off a chain reaction of sensations that travelled like wildfire from her lips through her entire body.

Opening her mouth, she invited him in and he kissed her softly and gently.

Pushing away from her and the counter, he spiked a finger through his hair, before saying in a shaky voice, “I’m all better now. How about you?’

Biting her lower lip, she shook her head.

“I’m sorry if I was out of line,” he apologized immediately.

“It’s not that,” she confessed boldly. “It just wasn’t enough.”

The heat that sparked in his gaze arced directly to her core, setting her on fire.

“We could rectify that later,” he suggested, reaching out to stroke the cheek with the back of this hand.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Let’s eat so we can ask her for the key and get out of here.”

“What key?” his mother asked from behind them, startling them both.

Brady snatched back his hand. Amy wasn’t sure if she was suddenly cold because of the lack of physical contact with him or if it was his mother’s icy tone that chilled her.

“What key?” she asked again, her expression hard. While she spoke to her son, her gaze raked up and down Amy glinting with something close to hatred.

“Hey, Mom.” Brady stepped away from Amy as guiltily as a teenager who’d gotten caught making out. “Amy is in receipt of a letter from Willen, Senior. I’ve been helping her out. We’ve been pasting together the clues and it led us to you.”

“So this is why you’re here?” His mother’s eyes flashed. “Not because you wanted to see us?”

“I don’t understand what the problem is,” he said slowly, eyeing her like she was a rabid animal ready to pounce. “Why can’t I kill two birds with one stone: help Amy and visit with you?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, his mother stared at him coldly.

Amy’s stomach roiled. She didn’t want to be the cause of conflict between Brady and his mother. “Maybe we should come back another time.”

“Come back for what?” his mother snapped.

Brady frowned.

“The key.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The key Mr. Willen gave you.”

“And why are you so interested in this key?”

“I told you. I’m trying to help Amy.”

Amy did her best not to shiver as his mother fixed her icy glare on her.

“And why do you want the key?”

“Because I received a letter from Mr. Willen that says it’s for me. I’m hoping I can find out who my father is. If I still have family.”

“He never got in touch with you?” a strange look flashed across the older woman’s face.

“I never knew him,” Amy admitted softly.

“Consider yourself lucky.”

“Mom!” Brady reprimanded.

“No good can come from anything that has to do with that man,” his mother insisted.

“What does that mean?” Amy asked sharply.

“I’ve said too much. Why not go to Eric for help? Why drag my son into this?”

Amy looked to Brady.

“Because,” he said, taking great care to keep his voice even, “Mildred asked me to help her.”

“Pffffftt!” Mrs. Stewart waved her hand dismissively. “Mildred has no right to interfere. It’s none of her business.”

“Is it any of yours?” Brady countered quickly.

“Of course. Why else would Willen have entrusted the key to me?”

“The key you just claimed to know nothing about, Mom?”

Spinning away, his mother wrapped her arms around herself and sighed dramatically. “I’m not giving it to you.”

“She’s entitled to it.” Brady raised his voice slightly.

“That’s not up to you to decide.” She turned slowly to face them. “It’s Eric’s problem, not yours.”

“It’s not Eric’s decision,” Brady shouted.

Flinching at his outburst, Amy reached out to pat his arm to quiet him.

Sam rushed in and took in the standoff between his brother and mother. “Everything okay?”

Mrs. Stewart watched the Brady through narrowed eyes. “This has nothing to do with you, Baby. It’s Eric’s responsibility.”

“Don’t do this, Mom,” Brady warned.  “Don’t treat me like I can’t make decisions for myself.”

“I’m protecting you. Trust me,
you
were never meant to help her.

“Help her with what?” Sam asked, trying to diffuse some of the tension.

“Mom’s old boss entrusted her with something he wanted Amy to have, but she’s refusing to turn it over.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Because I’m his mother,” she shrieked. “I’ll talk it over with Eric. End of story.” Spinning on her heel, she ran out of the kitchen.

The three of them stood there, shocked for a long moment.

Finally, Sam broke the silence. Clapping his brother on the back, he joked, “Always interesting when you show up, Brady.”

Brady didn’t even crack a smile.

“I’m really sorry,” Amy apologized. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Let me go see if I can talk to her,” Sam offered.

Brady nodded tightly and his older brother left the kitchen.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her.” Brady sank onto one of the kitchen chairs.

“She seems to think she’s protecting you.”

“From you?” Reaching out he caught Amy’s hand. “Are you a threat to me, Amy Winn?”

“I didn’t think so.”

He tugged her closer so she was standing with her knee pressed against his.  “I wish we’d met under different circumstances.”

A sinking feeling filled Amy as she realized he meant he was no longer interested in pursuing a relationship with her. Swallowing hard to keep the tears that suddenly filled her eyes from falling, she nodded.

“You deserve the whole romantic treatment. Dinner and flowers and compliments,” Brady continued. “Not elevators, file rooms, and family drama.”

Amy’s heart soared as she understood that she’d misconstrued his earlier compliment. “I kind of like elevators and file rooms,” she whispered.

“And family drama?”

She shrugged. “It’s a new experience for me.” Before he could say anything else, she bent to silence his mouth with hers.

Releasing her hand, he cradled her face between his hands as they kissed, making her feel like she was something precious to be protected.

A loud meowing startled her and she jumped away, looking for the cat. “Did we step on it?”

“Step on what?”

Another meow.

“The cat.” She spun around wildly searching for the wayward creature.

Brady covered his mouth, trying not to laugh.

She glared at him.

Another meow.

“Can’t you hear it?” she practically screeched.

“There’s no cat,” he chuckled. “It’s my phone.”

He pulled out the offending device as it let out its last meow.

Scrunching up her face, she squinted at him. “Your phone
meows
?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “Only for Mrs. M.”

“M for Meow?”

“She’s a nut about her cat.”

The phone meowed again.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she said with a half-smile. “Do you have to answer that meow?”

“I
should,
but…”

Meow.

“Just answer the damn thing,” she begged.

“Hey, Mrs. M.,” Brady said into his phone, flashing an apologetic grin at Amy. His grin disappeared. “What? Are you sure?”

Worry lines furrowed between his eyes.

Concerned Amy stepped closer to him

“I don’t think—” He paused listening intently. “Of course. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Looking slightly shell-shocked, he put his phone back in his pocket.

“Be where in fifteen minutes?” Amy asked.

“At Mrs. M.’s house. Mr. Burberry has gone missing.”

As they drove toward Mrs. M.’s house, Brady placed an emergency call through the car’
s communication system
.

“Hola, Brady,” the cheerful psychic chirped.

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“You don’t already know?” he teased.

“I’m only one woman. I can’t know
everything
.”

Beside him, Amy clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a chortle.

“I need to find a missing cat,” Brady told Armani.

“So find an animal control officer,” Armani snapped. “You people and your crazy obsession with pets.”

“I don’t even own a pet,” Brady told her defensively.

“Like my friend Maggie, she’s got a cat and a dog, and don’t even get me started on that lizard of hers. It’s unhealthy to bring a pet with you everywhere you go. She thinks people don’t know she’s got it stuffed in her bra, but it squeaks and squirms around a lot.”

Stopping at a traffic light, Brady pretended to bang his head against the steering wheel.

Amy shook with barely suppressed laughter.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, he asked, “So you won’t help me find the missing cat?”

“I am
not
a pet detective,” Armani told him snippily. “I’m a matchmaker.”

“Okay, thanks for nothing.” Brady reached out to disconnect the call.

“Wait!” Armani ordered.

His hand stilled.

“You need your passport.”

“What for?”

“You should carry it with you at all times,” Armani declared.

“Why?”

“You’re going to need it for your trip.”

“I’m not taking a trip.”

“Yes, you are.”

Brady took a deep breath. He could tell from Armani’s tone that it wouldn’t do any good to argue with her.

“And tell the chica to choose wisely,” Armani said mysteriously.

“What chica? What choice?” Brady asked.

But Armani had already hung up on him.

“Wow,” Amy exclaimed. “That’s your famous matchmaker?”

“She’s not
my
matchmaker.”

“Is she always like that?”

“And the scary thing is, sometimes she’s actually right.”

“Like knowing I’m here?”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

Twenty minutes later, Brady was starting to wonder if Armani Vasquez was more of gypsy than a psychic. That would explain why he was feeling as though he’d been cursed. How else could he explain the constant interruptions and roadblocks preventing him from getting closer to Amy?

And he did want to get closer to her. Even though she was mere inches away, sitting in the passenger seat of his car while he drive, it felt like she were miles away.

As though she sensed he was thinking about her, she tilted her head and flashed a shy smile.

Grinning back, he took his right hand off the steering wheel to tentatively pat her knee. “I’m sorry this has turned into such a crazy time.”

Covering his hand with her own, she squeezed lightly, the warmth of her touch filling his entire body with heat. He considered parking in the first empty parking lot he spotted and pulling her into his lap.

“I’m sorry we upset your mom.”

The mention of his mother cooled his desire. He shook his head. “I don’t know why she reacted like that.”

“It seemed pretty clear she thinks you shouldn’t be helping me.”

“I don’t get it. She doesn’t even like Eric.”

“But she obviously loves you,” Amy said gently.

“Obviously? I doubt that.”

Amy fell silent. He tried to focus on his driving, but wondered what she was thinking. Finally, he blurted out, “What?”

“What?”

“What are you thinking?”

“It’s none of my business,” she said carefully. “I don’t know your history.”

“And yet you’re thinking something. I can practically hear your brainwaves crackling.”

“Brainwaves crackle?” she teased.

“They also snap and pop,” he informed her in his most pompous tone.

She giggled.

The sound acted like a shot of helium to his mood, lightening and lifting it like a balloon. He found himself chuckling along with her.  Turning serious he asked, “Really. What were you thinking?”

“That we all make mistakes. Do things that the people we care about don’t understand.” She sucked in a fortifying breath before admitting. “And I was thinking that, despite all our problems, I’d give just about anything to have my mom back. Even if I didn’t understand why she was upset with me.”

Her voice cracked at the little end in a way that made Brady wince internally. “I thought you and your mom were close.”

“We were. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t have our fights. It didn’t mean she was perfect.”

“Did she do things that made no sense?” Brady asked.

“Oh yeah. And she kept too many secrets.”

“Secrets?”

“Like who my dad was.”

Brady considered that for a moment, trying to imagine not knowing one of his parents. “You never met him?”

“He died before I was born. Stopped to help a woman with a flat tire and ended up flattened like a crushed aluminum can under a truck.”

“And your mom never talked about him?”

“She never even told me his name.” The bitterness behind her words made it sound as though she was shouting, even though her tone was even and controlled.

Taking his eyes off the road, he glanced at her incredulously. “You’re kidding.”

“I asked, probably hundreds of times, including when she was on her death bed, and she refused to tell me.”

“Did she say why?”

“She said I had to be my own person.” Her mocking anger flooded the interior of car, sucking out all the oxygen.

“That’s a pretty weak reason.” He pulled into the driveway in front of Mrs. M.’s restored Victorian house. Every room seemed to be lit up.

“Trust me, I told her that and much worse.” She reached for her door handle.

Stretching across the car, he stopped her.

She froze in place, her eyes round and searching. Wanting, needing, to make her feel better, he brushed his lips against hers, offering her gentle comfort.

But the storm of emotions swirling inside her was more powerful than he anticipated. She kissed him back with an intensity that demanded attention from every cell in his body. Her tongue tangoed with his, her fingers tangled in his hair, and she strained to press against him, despite the car’s gearshift.

Despite the confines of the car, and the fact that they were parked outside the home of one of his bosses, he matched her passion, burning with the need to be closer to her. To sample all of her. To brand himself on her, even as her touch burned him.