Chapter 8
I heard footsteps, and then Oliver stood behind Jolene.
“Hey, how’d you get by me?” Oliver snapped, his face redder than usual. He’d been working out for months and nicely filled out his worn denim shirt.
Jolene turned to look over her shoulder at the tall kid. “I didn’t see anybody at the front desk.”
“I was in the bathroom,” he said through gritted teeth.
“That’s okay. Jolene was just leaving,” I said.
Jolene slid farther inside my office, standing near one of two guest chairs. “I could go to print without your statement, but—”
“Excuse me?” a man asked.
I knew that voice, didn’t I?
All of a sudden, Cormac Coretti stood behind Oliver. People were stacking up in my doorway like something out of a bad sitcom. My office wasn’t big enough for one ego, much less three.
“Good afternoon,” Cormac said, his voice smooth and polite enough to have me pausing to take him in.
Oliver stepped to the side, still blocking half the light from the hall. “I told you to wait in the reception area.” He glanced at me, eyes annoyed. Seriously so. “Ms. Albertini, there’s somebody here to see you.”
Now wasn’t the time to once again tell him to just call me Anna. All the time. Even in front of clients. I wanted to smack my hand against my forehead. “Thank you, Oliver. Cormac, come in. Jolene, leave.”
Oliver pivoted and stomped away.
Cormac stepped inside, taking in both of us with one quick, assessing glance. He didn’t fidget or rush and just stood there like the room was already his. Jolene’s eyes went wide. She gave him a once-over that was almost professional, almost not.
She extended a manicured hand and brightened her smile. “Hello. Jolene O’Sullivan.”
“Cormac Coretti,” he said gallantly, shaking her hand. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“If you were afraid of interrupting, you would’ve stayed in the reception area,” I said blandly.
He looked at me, his bluish-green eyes twinkling with the kind of amusement that made me wish I kept a spray bottle of holy water on the desk. “I suppose that’s true.”
Jolene licked her lips and looked over at me, the air suddenly too warm. “This is interesting. Is Devlin already out of the picture?”
“Aiden Devlin?” Cormac asked.
I stilled. “You know him?”
“No, no,” he said quickly. “I just asked around town a bit. Apparently he’s the ATF agent in charge of the, well, explosive part of the missing antique boxes investigation.”
Jolene smoothed down her already-smooth jacket, all focus again. “Did you hear anything about that investigation, Cormac?”
“I’m sure he didn’t,” I said before he could help the reporter out.
As much as I wanted to believe in sisterhood, Jolene had been a snake since high school.
She’d slept with Donna’s prom date, dated Aiden, and made a career out of turning my problems into headlines.
She had radar for my screw-ups and the work ethic to print them.
“Jolene, I’ve asked you to leave. Don’t make me call the sheriff for this trespass. ”
“Oh, please. You wouldn’t dare.” Jolene smiled her full wattage at Cormac. “Are you a lawyer?”
“Oh, no. I’m afraid not,” Cormac said easily. “I could never stay in school that long. I like to be out and about.”
She studied him, clearly intrigued. “Yet you’re asking about the investigation into Fiona O’Shea’s new store? Do you think the theft was staged?”
“No,” he replied. “I have no knowledge about the theft and was just in Silverville earlier today, and, well, you know how the gossip mill runs.”
Jolene looked at me and then back at him, angling her head to see better. She was taller than I was—most people were—but Cormac had to be a solid six foot two, broad in the shoulders and too relaxed for his own good.
“Then what’s your business with Anna?” she asked as if we were all great friends.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I said. “Jolene’s a reporter.” It was probably fair to let him know.
Her smile didn’t flicker, but her eyes sharpened.
Cormac’s mouth quirked into another almost-smile.
“I’m aware of that. I read the paper this morning, and your article about the city’s plans to clean up Nineteenth Street was fascinating.
I enjoyed how you compared the whole situation to the weather, as if the area had gone through a hard winter and was finally headed toward spring. Much like us.”
Jolene’s voice warmed. “You read my story?”
“I did.”
She stood even straighter. “Are you from around here?”
“Oh, no.” He shook his head, eyes twinkling. “I’m not.”
Silence filled the room, light catching in the polished brass of the desk lamp. I tried not to grin. The man clearly didn’t know Jolene well enough to recognize that she’d just turned the flirt dial to high.
“Where are you from, then?” she asked, leaning forward slightly.
“Pretty much everywhere,” he said. “I like to wander. I’m staying in Silverville right now at a very nice bed-and-breakfast, but I probably won’t be there for long.”
The woman was definitely persistent. “Do you have business in town?”
He cut me a look, sharp enough to be felt, and I just sat back in my chair. I didn’t know this guy and had no intention of helping him out. Besides, he oozed charm like it was part of his skincare routine. He could handle Jolene just fine.
“Since you asked.” He flashed her a grin that lacked the dimple. Maybe that dimple didn’t show up all the time. Interesting. “I’m looking to find those seven boxes that were stolen from Mrs. O’Shea’s new shop.”
“Really?” Jolene’s eyes lit up. “Are you some sort of insurance adjuster?”
He chuckled, low and rolling, the kind of sound that turned heads. Not that I was interested. I could just recognize quality when I heard it, and the British accent didn’t hurt. “Certainly not.”
Jolene preened, her shoulders straightening. “Oh?”
“No insurance,” he said. “Not my gig. I just find things.”
“You find things?” Her eyes brightened like a hound on a hunt catching a scent. “What exactly does that mean, Mr. Coretti?”
“Call me Mac,” he said easily.
“Well, Mac,” she said, drawing out the name like a test, “I should probably tell you that I can’t ignore a mystery, and you’re being awfully mysterious right now.” She giggled.
For goodness sakes. Jolene O’Sullivan had just giggled in my office. I didn’t even know she was capable. As a flirt, she wasn’t bad. I had to give her that.
“Nothing mysterious about me.” Cormac spread his big hands wide as if to show harmlessness. “I just find a good adventure wherever I go, and this one involves Fiona O’Shea’s nugget boxes. It’s my understanding they’re valuable. Silver’s fetching a fine price these days.”
“Silver?” she repeated.
“That’s what I heard,” he said smoothly. “Besides, I like the idea of the treasure map on the bottom.”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s no treasure. People have been looking for years.”
“Yes, but some of us have more luck in that area than others.”
“You do seem lucky to me,” she said, voice thick as honey.
Good grief. I might actually start gagging.
“You’re very kind, Ms. O’Sullivan,” he murmured.
“Jolene,” she corrected. “I insist.”
“Jolene, it is.”
I almost asked if they wanted to get a room, but she beat me to it.
“I’m pretty much finished with my interview,” she said lightly. “Since Anna never tells me anything, would you like to grab an early dinner?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “That’s the kindest offer I’ve had in too long to mention,” he said, “but I’m afraid not. I need to speak with Ms. Albertini, and then I have plans.”
“Well, then, do you have a card?”
“A card?” One of his dark eyebrows rose. “What would I do with a card?”
Jolene hesitated, then regrouped. “You know…a business card.”
That grin appeared again, slow and easy. “No, I wouldn’t have a card.”
“Are you self-employed? Do you work with somebody?” she pressed.
“I work where the wind takes me,” he said.
That wasn’t an answer, but I didn’t help her out. I was being very unhelpful at the moment.
Jolene looked at me, then back at him. Finally, she shrugged. “All right, I guess I better go type up my story. I’ll say you wouldn’t comment, Anna.” She brushed past Cormac and started down the hallway. To his credit, he didn’t turn to watch her go.
“Jolene,” I called out.
She paused halfway down the hall and looked over her shoulder, that smug grin already in place. “Yes?”
“There was a great libel case that came out of southern Idaho a couple of weeks ago,” I said evenly. “You might want to take a look at it before you make false allegations against my grandmother in your paper.”
Her smile only widened. She waved a hand in the air and kept walking, heels clicking down the hall like punctuation marks on my temper.
Cormac leaned against the doorframe. “She can write.”
Yeah, I knew that. I took in the easy set of his shoulders and the faint curve at the corner of his mouth. I needed to know what he wanted before I asked him to sit. “What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping you’d update me on the status of the missing boxes.”
“There is no update,” I said bluntly. “I’m not sure I’d tell you if there were, but there isn’t. So there you go. We know nothing now that we didn’t know a few hours ago in Silverville.”
“Oh, well, I wanted to come see the bigger city,” he said. “Also, do you mind giving me Donna’s phone number? I’d like to interview her as well.”
I blinked. “You what?”
He didn’t answer and just kept that focus on me. It was intense. Not as intense as Aiden’s, but close.
“I don’t give my sister’s phone number out,” I said.
Though, if he was just looking for a date, maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing.
Donna hadn’t gone out with anyone since—well, I couldn’t even remember.
She was beautiful, funny, and brilliant.
But this guy? I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, and he looked like he’d land solid.
“What would it take for you to give me her number?” he asked.