Nancy glanced at her watch one more time. Six-fifty.
She didn't have to do this. She could call Ned and tell him she wasn't feeling well, that she had changed her mind, or that the dress didn't fit, something, anything...
But she could feel it. She could feel the connection between them, and her curiosity was undeniable. She knew that she could make any decision she wanted, and it wouldn't matter.
She knew with total certainty that, no matter what, at seven-oh-five she would be in the hotel's lobby waiting.
Humphrey had come back to the hotel the night before with a few tidbits gleaned from his date with Stallings's assistant, but he and Nancy had waited until breakfast to discuss their findings. Nancy had lain awake for quite some time Friday night, feeling anxious, deciding that she absolutely would not keep the date Ned had practically demanded she attend Saturday night, then ten minutes later deciding that she might never have a better opportunity to truly question him about what he had done that night, especially in light of the research she and Humphrey had done.
If he sent me the note, he'll try to encourage me to drop the investigation.
But maybe he sent it to see if I would tell him about it, and he's trying to scare me so I'll confide in him about the case...
He's not involved. He can't have been involved. He wouldn't have done this.
You don't know!
Nancy still hadn't made up her mind about him. She hadn't yet found anything that made her think he had been involved, but, worse, she hadn't found any conclusive evidence that anyone else had been involved—and so the partners were all still equally suspect.
Humphrey had brought up Interregnum in conversation with the assistant to see if it meant anything to her, but it hadn't. He had decided to track down the reference, given that he had nothing better to do. While he had been casting his net the afternoon before, though, he had called Carlton Gordon's assistant, and when he was told that Gordon wasn't taking appointments, Humphrey had somehow sweet-talked the woman into seeing him briefly Saturday afternoon.
Nancy, after her breakfast meeting with Humphrey, had taken a quick trip to a department store. She had bought a new pair of gold peep-toe pumps and a light wrap, along with the undergarments that the dress required. Then she made an appointment at the makeup counter and another in the salon for late that afternoon, telling herself she could always cancel them if she changed her mind about going on the date. She had remembered an out of the way store her Aunt Eloise had taken her to a few times, one that specialized in quirky vintage clothes and accessories, and when she visited she found a black velvet and sequin clutch along with a black cuff bracelet. She took photos and sent them to Bess for approval, and Bess said they should work—and reminded Nancy that she still hadn't explained about the dress.
All day Nancy fought with herself, her attention split between the case and her internal debate. When she exhausted her options with one, she focused on the other. She told herself that Ned was complicit and that was the only reason he was lavishing so much attention on her. He was doing his best to seduce her so that when she finally found the evidence against him, he could convince her there were extenuating circumstances, that he hadn't meant it at all.
She told herself that Victoria Parker was the guilty one. Parker had been desperate for better returns, and when she found that Mark was opposing some scheme that could earn her back everything she had lost and more, and convincing Kate to go along with it, she had killed the larger threat and convinced Mark to keep quiet about what she had done.
Ned would never have killed anyone.
Ned could be waiting for a moment of vulnerability to kill her.
Nancy checked her appearance in the mirror one last time. Six fifty-eight. She needed to head downstairs soon.
She couldn't. She couldn't.
The prospect that he was a sociopathic murderer was somehow easier for her to deal with than the thought that Ned had absolutely nothing to do with it, that he was genuinely interested in her.
Nancy's heart was beating so hard in her chest as she checked her purse, then glanced back at the mirror. The makeup artist had been thorough and very good. Nancy's face was an even, golden tan without being orange, her cheekbones expertly contoured, her eye makeup dramatic without being too far over the top. Her hair was in a polished, sophisticated updo that looked a million times better than anything she could have done herself. Before she set out, Nancy took a deep breath, smiled, and took a photo of herself, then sent it to Bess.
Wish me luck!
Bess's response came thirty seconds later. Girl, u r a knockout. U don't need luck cause ur totally gonna get lucky! ;)
Nancy found herself blushing as she made sure her room key was in her purse.
Just then she heard a knock at her hotel room's door, and when she opened it, she was surprised to see Humphrey standing there. He swept his gaze over her, and opened and closed his mouth a few times without saying anything. "Uh," he finally forced out. "Holy shit, Nan, you look gorgeous."
She gave him a small, genuine smile. "Thanks."
Then his expression darkened. "Where are you going?"
"To interview a suspect," she told him, glancing down for a second.
"Not Nickerson."
Nancy raised her chin again. "Look, I need to see if he'll tell me what that meeting was about. Did Gordon's assistant give you anything?"
She flipped off the overhead lights, and Humphrey followed her down the hall as she went to the elevators and called the next car. "I'm not sure yet. I think you're right, though. He didn't have anything to do with his daughter's death, from what I can tell. No disagreements, no problems between them that I could see. Nan, listen to me. I don't have a good feeling about this."
Nancy adjusted her wrap as she turned back to face him. "I'll be fine," she told him.
"Look, if you want to go out, we can go get a nice dinner, talk about the case... I just don't like how this guy is with you, from everything you've told me, everything I've seen about him." When the car arrived, Nancy was ready to bid Humphrey goodbye, but he followed her onto the elevator and continued. "He's just met you. Tell me you aren't actually falling for this asshole."
"I'm not," she told Humphrey firmly. "I'll be back tonight and we can talk about the case—maybe in the morning, if I get back too late. On Monday, if we haven't found that Interregnum connection, I say we do another round of interviews, and ask each of the partners about it. See who acts guilty or nervous. I really think it could help us find who did this."
Humphrey was frowning as the car slowed and came to a stop, the doors whooshing apart to reveal the gleaming marble floor of the lobby. "How are we going to cover for that?"
"We'll say it's a project you're interested in putting some money into. Look, Humphrey, if anything happens I'll call you. Okay?"
He crossed his arms. "Please don't go," he said, stepping out into the lobby.
Nancy glanced down at her watch. Seven-oh-seven. "I have to," she told him, feeling both desperate and a little panicked. "I'll be fine."
She had to psych herself up a little to do it, but she walked through the lobby aware that she was surrounded by staring onlookers. The wrap did nothing to disguise the dramatic silhouette of the gown, or the decisive click of her heels against the floor. She kept her chin up and didn't lose her composure.
"Miss Drew?" The driver was already waiting at the back door of the car.
Several times during the ride, Nancy felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack. The first time she had seen him alone, she had only contacted him to ask a few questions. She hadn't known about the helicopter trip, or the yacht expedition. He had surprised her, and swept her off her feet. She remembered with a blush now how much of the case she had discussed with him. He had been so easy to talk to, and while she had mostly ignored the majority of his flirtatious comments and the brush of his fingers against her skin, it had been difficult.
Now, though, she had a few questions for him—and that was all. But he had given her the dress she wore, and if he had paid for it, he had put a significant investment into it—and might very well expect their night to end with more than the brush of his lips against her knuckles. He was escorting her somewhere. She would be on his arm.
Then she realized that, if they were going to be in public, she would likely be photographed with him. Just by virtue of her elaborate dress alone, she would probably garner at least some attention.
Nancy pulled out her cell phone and hurriedly dialed Ned's number. When he answered, she could hear the loud murmur of conversation behind him.
"Hello?"
"Ned?"
"Yes," he replied, sounding amused. "Nancy."
Nancy took a deep breath. "We're not... going to be making an entrance or anything, are we? It's just..."
"You want to keep a low profile," he said, and his voice was more serious. "I understand. I'll figure it out. But, beautiful, if you're wearing that dress..."
Nancy flushed a little. "I am," she said.
"Then your profile won't be that low."
After she told Ned she would see him in a few minutes, she heard the driver carry on a quiet conversation. They passed a red-carpeted staircase strobed by camera flashes, and then the driver pulled around to another entrance.
The side door opened, the light perched high above it casting the rest of the alley into deep darkness, the halo of blue-white brilliance falling directly on Ned and the security staffer holding the door open. Ned raised his head just as the driver came around to open Nancy's door, and she placed one foot outside the car, angling her body toward his.
At the sight of him, Nancy actually felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest, and all her anxiety felt like it was growing quieter even as it swallowed her whole.
He looked so incredibly fucking handsome that the sight of him was almost surreal, like she was seeing a scene from a movie, not the man actually waiting for her. He wore a classic tux, his tails and trousers pure black, his shirt white. A silver watch gleamed at his wrist, and she saw silver cufflinks as well. His dark hair had been styled, but one rebellious lock fell invitingly over his forehead, and he reached up absently to push it back into place as he gazed at her.
His eyes met hers, and it was like the rest of the world fell away, like her stomach would never stop fluttering. She had been so nervous and conflicted that her lunch had been small, her dinner nonexistent.
"Nancy," he whispered, rushing forward and offering her his hand to assist her as she slid out of the towncar. "Oh my God. You look..." He shook his head, speechless for a moment. "You look incredible."
She gave him a genuine smile. "You look very handsome," she told him, holding her wrap closed around her, and his hand still lingered in hers. The small voice that had been urging her all day long to treat him entirely professionally, to stop feeding the apparent crush he had on her, just faded into nothing.
Ned shook his head again. "I don't even want us to go inside," he told her. "Everyone in there is going to see you and fall in love with you, and I want you all to myself."
When Nancy let the wrap slip from her shoulders, revealing smooth creamy skin and the subtle shimmer of her body lotion, she could swear that she felt Ned's gaze on the newly exposed flesh—and that it was intense enough to burn her alive. "But then you wouldn't get your money's worth," she found herself saying. "We should at least put in an appearance."
Ned reached for her wrap and draped it over his other arm, then offered her his. "Briefly," he told her, his voice low, meant only for her. "After all, for the next little while I suppose you'll be the shy, retiring Ann Mallory, condescending to do me a favor by keeping me from being a wallflower tonight. While all I really want," he leaned even closer, and she could feel his warm breath against her temple, making her shiver, "is Nancy Drew, the gorgeous, utterly captivating detective who is on the hunt for a murderer."
That reminder of the case just made her stomach flip unpleasantly again, and the conflict she felt was like an actual visceral pain. She had to be on her guard. She had to be.
She didn't know what she would do if she found evidence that he had been involved in Kate's death.
Ned piloted her through a few short back hallways, the murmur of conversation and the clink of glassware growing louder, and then he opened a side door and Nancy blinked at the sudden wash of golden light. That was her first impression: gold, so much gold, cream marble shot through with it, soft lighting and the sparkling of champagne. Long tables were set up with a variety of luscious, vibrantly colored displays of fruits and petit fours, all flanking towers of champagne flutes. The ceiling was breathtakingly high overhead, and the tables were set between pieces of priceless artwork, some under glass, some freestanding. The white-gloved hands of the pianist stroked the keys of a large, glossy grand piano with confidence, and Nancy and Ned were surrounded by a laughing, murmuring crowd.
Nancy couldn't count the number of benefits she had attended, and the sight was familiar. A small podium complete with a placard and small microphone was already set up, waiting for the keynote plea for donations. While the surroundings and the outfits worn by the attendees were just a little more expensive than the ones Nancy generally saw while accompanying her father to such events in Chicago, she was in no way outside her element.
But, she reminded herself, she wasn't Nancy Drew here. She was Ann Mallory, who would be at least a little awed by her surroundings.
When the first tall, distinguished-looking man and his date came over, Nancy waited with a little curiosity to see how Ned would introduce her, or if he even would. He said that she was his friend, but Ned kept her arm tucked through his, and the way the date's eyebrow flicked up a quarter of an inch as she swept her gaze down Nancy's outfit told her that his story wasn't entirely accepted. Nancy knew that her dress would make her stand out, but it would also make many of them wonder who she was, and whether she was a person of note or influence whose acquaintance should be cultivated. Attending as Ned Nickerson's date, letting him show her off, almost demanded that interpretation.
After a few more of those brief conversations, Nancy was somehow becoming accustomed to the contact of his skin against hers, but her heart still beat almost painfully hard every time her gaze met Ned's. He checked her wrap and clutch so she wouldn't be burdened with them, and when he asked if she wanted a glass of champagne, she paused. Ann Mallory was of legal age, and Nancy had the ID to prove it. Given how empty her stomach was, though, she didn't think champagne was a great idea, at least not yet. And definitely not if she was trying to maintain impartiality and professionalism around him.
"Maybe with some strawberries," Nancy hedged, glancing over at the banquet table closest to them.
Ned raised an eyebrow at her. "If you're hungry, tell me right now and I'll whisk you away. Louis will whip up something that will make you think you've died and gone to gustatory heaven."
Nancy couldn't help chuckling at the almost earnest expression in his dark eyes. "I just didn't have much to eat today," she told him, "and I'd hate for the champagne to go to my head."
A small smile touched his lips. "Strawberries and champagne for my beautiful date, it is," he said. "And an assurance that I'll be a gentleman even if the circumstances try me."
"Is that a promise?"
His smile grew wider. "Depends on how sorely I'm tested, Miss—Mallory."
Nancy watched, bemused, as Ned prepared a plate for her. As she waited, three other musicians joined the pianist, and with some encouragement, some of the more adventurous couples began to dance. Nancy's gaze was still locked to Ned when she felt the warm brush of fingertips against her elbow, and she turned—but the owner of the hand was at her other side, a small smirk on his face. He had wavy blond hair and chiseled features, pale eyes and a very interested gaze which was directed mostly at her cleavage.
"Care to dance, Cinderella?"
Nancy smiled at him. "I'd love to, but my coach is going to turn into a pumpkin soon, so I'm afraid I really can't."
He cupped her elbow a little more firmly, his fingers warm and caressing. "Come on, beautiful, it would be a shame for the most gorgeous woman here to go all night without dancing."
"You're right." The blond man turned his head almost fractionally, to direct his narrowed gaze in Ned's direction as he approached. "It would be a shame, but her dance card is full. I'm sure the second most gorgeous woman here is just dying to meet you, though," Ned said, and nodded in the direction of a dramatically thin, disdainful-looking brunette with long-lashed amber eyes. Her cowl-necked gown was cut to reveal almost the full column of her spine, and the graphite fabric of her dress shimmered wherever it caught the light. She looked very much like the kind of girl Nancy had seen in the paparazzi photos of Ned.
Once the blond man had yielded with poor grace, Ned handed Nancy a plate of sliced strawberries, a dollop of whipped cream and a pair of petit fours on the side, and a flute of champagne. She looked between the two, then raised her head, her lips curved up slightly.
"I seem to require a butler, sir," she told him, and dipped her head in thanks as he took the champagne back, holding it in his left hand as he sipped from the glass in his right. "And I don't recall seeing any dance cards..."
She made her voice lightly teasing, and he answered in kind. "I have no intention of letting him or any other jerk here get his arms around you," he told her.
"I wasn't aware you had any prior claim on me." She picked up one of the petit fours and took a bite.
"I suppose I don't," he said with a sigh. "I can only tell you that seeing you dance with someone else would shatter my heart, gorgeous."
"I think you're made of sterner stuff than that."
"I might be," he conceded. "But Louis has such delicate sensibilities that he would definitely deprive you of dessert."
Nancy gasped, her eyes sparkling. "You wouldn't. You wouldn't promise me what is sure to be the most tantalizingly delicious sundae I'll ever taste and then snatch it away from me just like that. I thought you said you were a gentleman."
"All's fair in love and war, Miss Mallory," he told her with a wink. "Or when it comes to Louis."
Nancy finished the entire plate of food before she took even her first sip of champagne, and despite her cautiousness, she still felt the warmth of the alcohol sweep over her too quickly. She finished her flute when Ned finished his, and as soon as he put their glasses on a tray, he reached for her hand.
"May I have this dance?" he murmured, his dark eyes staring directly into hers.
She swallowed and nodded. "Yes," she told him, and let him guide her to the designated area.
Anticipation made her nervous again, and when he cupped one hand at her slender waist, the other joined to hers, she rested her palm against his shoulder and gazed up into his eyes, and that was when she knew for sure.
There was no turning back. There would be no turning back from this, if she let herself fall.
Nancy swallowed hard, and as they began to move together, in time with the beat, that tunnel vision came back to her. The sounds of the conversation around them, the other couples, all of it, just faded away, and every bit of her tingled with awareness as the warmth of his palm came through the thin fabric of her dress. He moved with perfect ease and effortless grace, and she knew it took skill for him to avoid accidentally stepping on her hem, to lead her so subtly. It took her a few steps to learn him, but once she did, when they were in perfect tandem, their gazes locked, and she felt like all of her was lain bare beneath that smoldering gaze. Unbidden, definitely against her will, she flushed as she imagined those large, firm hands unzipping her dress, touching the bare skin beneath, that muscular, powerfully built body moving against hers as easily as they were dancing now...
She shivered and her body moved with his, just a little closer, and she didn't have to concentrate. It was as though she knew how he would move before he actually did. Her fingers crept higher on his shoulder, until her fingertips were barely brushing the nape of his neck.
Ned let out his breath in a long sigh, his gaze darkening a little, and Nancy could feel every individual beat of her heart. It felt like something trapped inside her. When he took a step closer to her, she squeezed his hand a little tighter, willing her knees to stay strong.
Please don't go.
She could never tell Humphrey, never explain this to anyone, but she knew that if she wasn't careful, she would never be able to turn Ned down. He could ask her to do anything, and she would follow him like someone lost in a dream.
How could she have ever looked into those eyes and thought he was involved in Kate's death? His dark eyes were so intense and sincere. She could see an emotion there she didn't trust herself to name, and when she lightly brushed the nape of his neck again, his lips parted, and a terrible thrill went down her spine.
She wanted to know how it would feel, to have those lips pressed to hers.
When the dance ended, she felt like something had passed between them, something wordless and intangible, and she was both worn out and exhilarated. Ned asked if she wanted another flute of champagne, his voice pitched low and intense, and after a beat she nodded, hoping it would help ease the incredible, almost painful awareness that had filled her stomach with butterflies.
For the rest of their evening, when they weren't dancing, they were moving easily in the crowd. She was able to witness his public persona firsthand, more than she had when she was in his office, and she was a little bemused to see that he wasn't terribly different. He had an excellent memory for names and faces, and the well-dressed couples and professionals who approached him were nearly all complimentary, their faces alight with genuine admiration. He inspired that in people. He was a natural leader, and people wanted to follow him. He knew what he was doing, and that confidence, the charisma and charm he radiated were irresistible.
And she was the woman on his arm.
The more dances they shared, the more sure she was that he would bow out when someone tried to cut in, but he never did. People commented that he had monopolized the mysterious ingenue he had brought as his date, and he just shrugged and smiled, repeating that he had no intention of letting her go.
She had cut herself off after her third flute of champagne, and the additional halved strawberries had helped, but she was feeling a little lightheaded as Ned escorted her to the coat check so they could claim her wrap and clutch. "Louis promised to wait up for us," he told her with a smile. His eyebrow went up in the slightest question.
She pulled her wrap over her shoulders, tilting her head as she looked up at him. Just as she had felt all afternoon, she knew what the right choice was—and she was equally sure she couldn't make it. "I don't know," she bluffed. "I believe the terms of our arrangement have been fulfilled." But, she added silently, I still haven't asked you about Interregnum—and that could very well ruin tonight for me.
"They have," Ned allowed with a faint smile. "But I can't lie to you. I don't want the night to be over just yet. And it's only a sundae."
"If it's on your yacht..." She trailed off without completing the statement.
"Nah. I thought I'd change it up a bit."
The entire trip after they left the benefit, Nancy kept trying to will herself to calm down, but it was almost impossible, especially thanks to the champagne. She would try the sundae and ask him the questions she needed to ask, and that would be it. She thought guiltily of Humphrey's accusation that she wasn't really treating Ned like a suspect, and she knew that if he had witnessed the way they had been behaving so far tonight, he definitely would have called her a hypocrite.
Then Ned glanced over at her, smiling, and she didn't care.
The car pulled to a stop outside an apartment building, and she knew he was taking her to his home, that she should say no, but she couldn't. He hadn't tried to hurt her on his yacht, and at least they were still in the city.
In the elevator, Ned slid a key into a lock and pressed the button for the penthouse. Then he turned to her. Nancy had her arms folded and her wrap pulled tight over her shoulders, almost defensively, but she felt almost unbearably warm when Ned's gaze lingered on her. "I never said thank you, did I," he said, and shook his head. "Excuse my terrible manners. Events like the one tonight are completely unbearable without the right company."
"I didn't think it was so bad," she told him with a smile.
"Nor did I," he said. "I'd attend one every night, if it meant I could be dancing with you, beautiful."
He reached for her hand and lifted it to his mouth again, and just as he brushed his lips over her knuckles, the elevator reached the penthouse floor and the door slid open. Nancy was able to cover her shiver as they walked into his home.
Almost immediately Ned toed out of his polished dress shoes, and Nancy giggled at the expression of exaggerated relief on his face. "Sorry. Take your shoes off too, if you'd like. Would you care for a tour?"
Nancy had just begun to consider it, telling herself that she needed to ask her questions and say her goodbyes, when Louis entered from the kitchen. She had heard Ned calling him as they had waited for the car to come around and pick them up. "Everything's prepared," he said with a smile.
Nancy smiled back at him. "Please tell me that Mr. Nickerson passed along my compliments after that utterly spectacular meal on the yacht."
Louis gave her an almost bashful grin. "I'm very glad to hear you enjoyed it."
"It was... there are no words for how amazing it was," she told him. "I enjoyed every bite. Honestly."
Ned glanced at Nancy, reaching down to clasp her hand. "That's quite enough," he told her, mock sternly. "I think half the men I spoke to tonight were only talking to me to get a better look at you, and if I'm not careful you'll inspire total devotion in my chef as well. If you rhapsodize over the sundae, in that dress that makes you look like perfect royalty, God only knows what will happen."
Louis had taken advantage of Ned's teasing to return to the kitchen, and he appeared again in a moment with two sundaes, long-handled spoons in each. "Warm cinnamon and butter pecan cake topped in a cream cheese glaze, chocolate-dusted vanilla-bean gelato with a boiled caramel sauce."
Nancy's eyes widened, and she glanced over at Ned in dismay as Louis placed the sundaes at a pub table overlooking the impressive view of the city afforded by Ned's large picture windows. "Oh, I couldn't possibly eat that in this dress," she said. "If I spilled anything on it..."
Louis had vanished to the kitchen again. "Then I guess you will just have to take it off," Ned murmured, his voice low, his dark-eyed gaze locked to hers, and Nancy shivered a little. "If you'd like to borrow some clothes, my bedroom is right there."
Nancy smiled at him in thanks, then closed herself into his room—and couldn't stop herself from wondering if he was going to follow her inside. She saw a lock on the doorknob and turned it, her stomach jumping a little, then opened his dresser drawers. In a lower drawer she found, folded neatly, a few Harvard t-shirts, and she pulled one out, along with some black designer drawstring shorts that she could tie tightly enough not to fall off. Quickly she unzipped her dress and left it on the bed, then yanked the shirt over her head and stepped into the shorts, leaving herself exposed as briefly as possible.
Once she was dressed in his clothes, she felt her natural curiosity come back. While she was in his bedroom and she doubted that he kept many private papers there, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity to do a quick search. The small table on the side of the bed closest her was empty; she crossed to the other table and pulled out the lowest drawer.
There she found condoms, a bottle of personal lubricant, handcuffs, a blindfold, a box—
Nancy flushed and quickly, silently pushed the drawer back in. When she, Bess and George had turned eighteen, Bess had demanded that they go to an adult store for the novelty of it, and Nancy had seen any number of mortifying products like the one in the box. Bess, who had been boy-crazy since the onset of puberty and a faithful reader of Cosmo for practically as long, was very lofty and sophisticated about such things, while Nancy just felt both embarrassed by and curious about all she had seen there.
"Nancy, did you find some clothes?"
"Yes! Coming!" Nancy called back, then flushed even more deeply. She fanned herself for a few seconds, then unlocked the door and walked out again. When she set eyes on him, she didn't feel disgusted, just a little in awe. She had been sure that he was much more sexually experienced than she—she would have been shocked if he hadn't been—and that just made her idle fantasies during their dance all the more poignant.
"Mmm. Looks good on you," Ned commented with a smile. He was already seated at the pub table, the spoon in his hand, his jacket off and tie loose. The first two buttons of his shirt were undone.
Nancy scrunched her nose at him, taking the seat opposite, still shaking a little from what she had seen in his room. "Thanks for letting me borrow it for a little while," she told him, and then she took the first bite of her dessert.
"Oh, holy shit."
Ned smiled. "Aren't you glad you didn't pass this up?" he teased her.
Their desserts were amazing, and Nancy was glad that the cake and ice cream served to help sober her up a little. Her stomach had been churning a little from the nearly untempered champagne. Once she pushed her dessert glass away, Ned took one last bite of his dessert, then sighed.
"Mmm. Couch?"
Nancy nodded lazily, padding in bare feet over to his couch. The apartment was spotless, uncluttered, and tastefully decorated in what looked like reclaimed wood and beautifully plush fabrics, no doubt by an expert in interior design. The couch was so comfortable that Nancy sank down into the cushions with a little moan, tipping her head back. She was full, happy and satisfied, and those questions that had seemed so urgent earlier didn't seem terribly important yet.
"You should hire that man out as a spy," she told Ned, turning her head so she could look at him, still tilted back against the top of the couch cushion. "People would tell him anything he asked just to have another bite of that dessert."
Ned smiled. "So what would you promise me, if I promise you another one?"
Nancy chuckled, avoiding the question. "Would you mind answering a few more questions?"
Ned sighed, but then his expression brightened. "As long as you promise to keep me on the suspect list," he told her. "Are you willing to do that?"
Nancy nodded, then sat up straighter, angling her body toward his. She pulled her legs up and crossed them in front of her. "I've heard that Kate and Vincent Cantoni were kind of close. Did you see anything like that?"
Ned shrugged, an apologetic look on his face. "I can't say that I really did, but I don't doubt it. Many of the partners have their own side projects going on, and sometimes their interests overlap."
Nancy nodded. "So Kate might have been involved on projects with any of the other partners. Did that happen with you as well?"
Ned shook his head. "It hadn't. Not because I wouldn't have considered it, just because no opportunity came up."
"And do you feel that way about the other partners?"
Ned shrugged and laced his fingers together. "This stays between us, okay?" he said, and glanced over at her.
Nancy nodded. "Okay," she agreed, her heart beating a little faster.
"Other than Carlton, I'm not all that impressed by them, honestly. Not by their expertise or their instincts. So I can't say that I would necessarily invest with any of them, outside the group."
Nancy tilted her head. "So why are you a partner?"
Ned gave her a small humorless smile. "It's a good question. Mostly because Carlton Gordon has an excellent reputation and he's worked hard. He's really made a name for himself, and with the right planning..."
Ned trailed off, glancing down at his hands before he looked back at Nancy. "The future is bright for the company, if he plays his cards right."
"How so?" Nancy asked quickly.
Ned shrugged. "It just is," he said, and glanced back down again.
A suspicion was brewing in Nancy's mind, but she would have to speak to Carlton Gordon again to confirm or deny it. She made a mental note to do that. "Ned?"
"Hmm?" he said, and when their gazes locked, she held his.
"Does the word 'Interregnum' ring any bells?"
"In what context?" Ned asked. "In Latin, or...?"
Nancy couldn't help chuckling. "In the context of the Bennett Group."
Ned's brow furrowed. "I... kind of?" he said slowly. "It's nothing... nothing major, but it does sound kind of familiar. I can't place it, though." He shook his head. "That's frustrating."
She nodded. "At least I'm not going crazy," she muttered.
"Going crazy?"
Nancy sighed. She hadn't seen any sign that Ned was lying to her, and she could already feel that she was letting her guard down again. He was just so damn easy to talk to. "I ran across a reference to it that I can't place, and I keep thinking it's probably a good clue."
"Well, if I remember where I remember it from, I'll be sure to let you know."
Nancy smiled at him in thanks, then unfolded her legs. "Well, thank you so much for letting me wear the dress, and the sundae."
Ned stood up when she did. "The dress is yours," he said, and then flashed her a grin. "It doesn't work with my complexion."
Nancy smirked to keep herself from chuckling. "I can't accept it," she insisted again. "I wore it tonight because... well, honestly, I would have had nothing else to wear, and it was absolutely gorgeous, but it's too much, Ned."
"I bought it for you," he said, taking a step toward her. "It's yours. Take it with you and I promise I'll give you other occasions to wear it."
Nancy ducked her head, glancing down. "Fine," she sighed. "And I'll have these cleaned and sent back to you."
"Or not," he said, taking another step toward her. "I like seeing you in my clothes."
Nancy glanced up at him again, into his eyes. The intense expression she saw there and remembering what she had seen in his room made her flush a little. "Thank you," she murmured again, and she had to force herself to walk toward his door.
He followed her, and she had her hand on the knob when he linked his forefinger and thumb around her wrist. She turned back toward him, lifting her chin, and when he took another step toward her, Nancy pulled in a long shivering breath, searching his eyes.
She needed to leave. She had already stayed far too long, and being alone with him was a mistake, and this was dangerous, and—
He released her wrist, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek, the ball of his thumb gently brushing her skin. His dark eyes were still gazing directly into hers, and when he tilted his head, Nancy parted her lips with a soft sigh, her eyes fluttering shut as he kissed her.
And she was glad the support of the door was at her back as he kissed her again and again, his tongue slipping into her mouth, and she shuddered as she obeyed the irresistible impulse to wrap her arms around him, to run her fingers through his hair. He pinned her against his front door and kissed her again.
She couldn't count the number of first kisses she'd had, and she had kissed many guys. Sometimes it had sent a tingle down her spine; sometimes it had left her cold. Sometimes she had been so disappointed when an otherwise handsome man wasn't good at kissing, and sometimes there was absolutely no spark, no matter how much she had wanted to feel one.
Kissing Ned—there was no comparison. It was as though she had never been kissed before. Every stroke of his tongue against hers made her shudder with delight, and when he cupped her hips, boosting her so their faces were level as he held her against the door and kissed her again, she returned it desperately.
That shudder down her spine set up a throbbing awareness between her thighs, an ache, a desire for some satisfaction like none she had experienced before. She couldn't pull away even if she wanted to, and they were both panting when he finally broke the kiss. His lips brushed the soft skin behind her earlobe and Nancy shuddered again. She heard a low pleading sound and realized it was coming from her.
"Stay with me," Ned murmured, and his lips grazed her neck as he planted the softest kiss against it, his large warm palms still cupping her hips, and Nancy's eyelashes fluttered down again. "Stay with me, beautiful. Please don't go yet."
Please don't go.
Nancy forced herself to open her eyes, and when she squirmed a little Ned released her. He pulled back to look into her face, and his gaze was dark and totally serious.
He wasn't asking her to stay. He was asking her for something else.
And she was having a really fucking hard time remembering why she shouldn't tell him yes.
Nancy took a deep breath and shook her head, her eyes wide. "I can't," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
Ned frowned, but moved back a little, and she relaxed marginally. "I have a meeting Monday and I'll be out of town, but I'll be back Tuesday. Tell me I can at least see you then."
Nancy studied his eyes for a moment. "Okay," she murmured. "If I'm still here."
The stricken look that crossed his face when she said that was so sincerely sad that it almost broke Nancy's heart, and when he ducked in again and kissed her hard, she felt that quivering awareness intensify until she thought it might tear her apart. He squeezed her side and she let out a quiet moan when they parted, blinking slowly up at him, and he couldn't stop staring at her.
"I've never met anyone else like you," he whispered. "I don't think I ever will."
She gave him a small smile. "You're pretty special too," she murmured. "And soon I'll have the case finished..."
"Are you getting close?" he said, his eyes brightening even though he sounded a little reserved.
Nancy nodded. "Yeah. The culprit sent me a note threatening me if I didn't drop my investigation, so I must be getting close."
Ned frowned. "Threatened you? How?"
Nancy shrugged. "That I'd be next," she said lightly.
Ned grasped her hand and squeezed it, his brow furrowed. "Nancy, promise me you'll be careful," he said, his voice low and intense. "Especially on Monday when I'm not here."
She tilted her head. "You don't want me to just take a break when you're out of town?" she asked, keeping her voice even.
"Why would I?" he asked, a puzzled expression on his face. "I told you, Nancy, I've read about you—and when I say that you're not like anyone else I've ever met, I mean it. You're amazing, and you can handle yourself. You seem to have done perfectly well without me so far. I just..." He ducked his head.
"What?" she murmured, touching his chin, craning her neck to catch his gaze again.
"I guess I just... I wish I could help you. But the sooner you solve the case, the sooner you'll be leaving..." He reached up and stroked her cheek again.
Nancy swallowed. "If you want to help me," she said, searching his eyes, "can you tell me what you were discussing at the meeting, that night?"
He shook his head. "I can't," he said firmly. "I'm sorry, but I can't. Confidentiality."
Nancy pressed her lips together and nodded, looking down.
"Please, I'm not trying to hide anything, I swear—"
"I understand," she said softly. "I do."
He gently brushed his lips against hers one last time. "Do you really have to go?" he whispered.
Nancy shuddered again, at the feel of him so close to her. "I do," she said reluctantly. "Please."
With one last sigh, Ned stepped back and let his hands drop. "Okay," he said quietly. "But if you change your mind, or if you need to call me about anything, day or night, don't hesitate."
She nodded. "I'll keep that in mind," she murmured.
Once she was in the towncar, alone, on the way back to her hotel, Nancy closed her eyes and slumped against the seat, willing herself to stop shaking. It had taken every ounce of her strength to say no, and now she was practically thrumming with pent-up tension.
Most of her worried about what would happen the next time she saw him. He seemed to be able to cut through her defenses more quickly each time, and if she wasn't careful, the next time she saw him, she wouldn't be able to say no again. She wouldn't want to.
And part of her couldn't wait.