Heroes Are My Weakness(92)

Kenley could never get enough of him. She’d wanted him with her every second. And all he’d wanted was to get away. “I’m too tired to move,” he murmured.

“Fine.” She flipped out of bed and flounced from the room. She’d meant what she said about not sleeping together. He should have been a gentleman and done what she’d asked, but he was feeling ill used, and he stayed where he was.

Much later, when he still hadn’t fallen back asleep, he found her curled in his bed in the studio. He resisted the urge to crawl in with her and got his laptop instead. He carried it out into the living room and settled down to write. But he kept thinking about Diggity Swift. He’d killed off the kid on the page, but not in his head, and he didn’t like that. Disgusted with himself, he set the laptop aside, stared out the window, and watched the snow fall.


AFTER ANNIE HAD SHOWERED AND dressed for the day in jeans and her green sweater, she found Theo in the kitchen.

“Would you like another cup of coffee?” he asked.

“No, thank you. But thank you for offering.”

“My pleasure.”

He’d showered before her, and he, too, was fully dressed. They had their best manners on display, making up for last night’s debauchery with Old World courtesy, as if they needed to reclaim their dignity and prove they were, indeed, civilized.

As he retired to the table with his coffee, she found an old sheet, located a can of black paint in the storage closet, and carried it all into the studio where there were enough splatters on the floor not to make a difference. Half an hour later, Theo stood in the fresh snow and gazed at the banner she’d hung on the front of the cottage.


TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT.

NO QUESTIONS ASKED.

She climbed down from the ladder and scowled at him, daring him to make fun of her, but he merely shrugged. “Works for me.”


OVER THE COURSE OF THE next few days, Annie came to a decision. Not about Theo. Her relationship with him was as clear-cut as she could wish. She loved being Sex Queen of the World, and insisting on separate beds kept her from becoming a chump. Instead, her decision involved the legacy. She’d found nothing, and it was time to face reality. Mariah had been on so many painkillers that she hadn’t known what she was saying. There was no legacy, and Annie could either fall apart because her money problems weren’t going to magically disappear, or she could keep moving forward, one step at a time.

The interisland ferry was due to arrive on the first of March, only a few days away, and she began packing up everything in the cottage that had value to ship to the mainland. She arranged for a van to meet the ferry and take it all to Manhattan. Her mother’s name was still worth something, and her things were going to the best resale shop in the city.

Annie had sent photos of everything to the owner, including the paintings, lithographs, art books, the Louis XIV “Pile Driver” chest, and barbed-wire bowl. He’d agreed to advance the money for transportation against future sales.

The centerpiece of the collection and the item the dealer was certain would fetch the most money was one she’d nearly overlooked. The cottage guest book. Some of the autographs were of well-known artists, and a few signatures had small doodles next to the names. The dealer hoped to get as much as two thousand dollars for it, but he took a 40 percent commission. Even if everything sold, Annie wouldn’t be able to settle her debts, but she’d put a dent in them. She was also healthy again. When her sixty days were up, she’d try to get her old jobs back and start all over again. A depressing thought.

Then something happened on the last day of February that cheered her up.

Theo had been out riding longer than usual, and she kept dashing to the windows at Harp House looking for him. It was nearly dusk when she spotted him riding up the drive. She hurried out the side door, grabbing her coat on the way but not bothering with her hat and gloves.

He reined up as he saw her running toward him. “What’s wrong?”

“Not a thing. Put your happy face on. I got my period!”

He nodded. “That’s a relief.”

No big smile. No high fives or “Thank Gods.” She regarded him curiously. “Somehow I expected a little more enthusiasm.”

“Trust me. I couldn’t be more enthusiastic.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Unlike you, I’m not in the habit of jumping up and down like a twelve-year-old.” He rode off toward the stable.

“You should try it sometime,” she called after him.

As he disappeared she shook her head in disgust. One more reminder that the only connection between them was physical. Did he let anybody see what was going on inside his head?