Page 79 of The Murder Club
She tapped her fingers on the edge of the table, clearly ready and eager to believe that her employer was capable of murder.
“I wonder if Pauline Hartford’s will included a donation to the nursing home like Nellie’s did,” she murmured. “Pauline’s neighbor mentioned that the older woman wasn’t exactly charitable, but when I was talking to Dorinda this morning she made a comment that Pauline Hartford was always pushing herself into the news, as if she craved attention. Maybe she left some money to the Donaldsons with the demand that her legacy would be attached to the gift. Like the Hartford Library or the Hartford Butterfly Garden.” Bailey shrugged. “Something like that.”
The words made sense to Dom. He’d been raised by a narcissist who would love nothing more than to have his name engraved on plaques scattered around France.
“It’s a good theory,” he agreed. “That would explain why the Donaldsons would want her dead.”
Bailey hesitated, then heaved a sigh. “But not what happened to Kevin.”
Dom considered the various explanations. They’d been looking at Kevin as a suspect, not a victim. Why would Logan want him dead?
“Maybe he decided to contest the will,” he finally suggested. “Or maybe a larger chunk of the inheritance goes to the nursing home if Kevin is out of the way.” He paused before adding, “Or maybe they were working together, and Logan decided that Kevin’s drug habit was making him a liability to their secrets.”
“That would fit. Logan makes a good suspect. He could easily have overheard Eric and me discussing the Murder Club. And he would obviously have my cell phone number and my address along with my work schedule.”
Dom narrowed his gaze. He didn’t miss the edge of disbelief in her tone. “But?”
“He can barely bother to show up for work,” she pointed out. “I can’t imagine him with the ambition to plot and murder, then follow through with stalking his victim and doing the deed.”
“He wasn’t necessarily acting alone,” he reminded her. “There’s a chance he had help.”
“Kevin?”
“Kevin and possibly Gage,” Dom added. “Plus, at least one more possibility.”
She pursed her lips, trying to dredge up likely partners in crime. “Not his mother.” The words were a statement, not a question.
“Actually, I was thinking about Eric Criswell,” Dom clarified. “I’m convinced Logan and Eric were meeting this morning. And that they wanted the meeting to be a secret.”
“I agree. Why else wouldn’t they meet in Logan’s office?” She shook her head in disgust. “He spent a fortune having it refurbished a few months ago.”
Dom muttered a curse, his head spinning. Then, after polishing off the last of his wine, he leaned forward to place the empty glass on the table. At the same time, he dismissed the worry that was gnawing at him like a cancer. He was going to have an ulcer before this was all over, but for now he wanted to think about something other than the stalker who lurked just out of sight.
“What we need is a break,” he announced in firm tones. “It will hopefully clear our brains.”
She stilled, as if sensing he had decided exactly how he wanted to clear his brain.
“What kind of break? A long walk? A hot bath?”
With a slow smile, he slid his finger along the edge of the cake pan, scooping out the last of the frosting. Then, holding her gaze, he dabbed the rich chocolate on her lower lip.
“I was thinking dessert,” he murmured, shoving himself to his feet so he could lean across the table and claim her lips in a kiss that sent shock waves of hunger blasting through him.
* * *
Bailey had returned to the house with a dark cloud of fear hanging over her head. It wasn’t just fear for herself, although she could sense the danger like a shadow breathing down her neck. Her greatest fear was that she wasn’t going to be able to figure out who was stalking her and they would kill again and again.
Then Dom licked the frosting from her lips, and suddenly the cloud was gone. It wasn’t that her troubles disappeared, but they melted to the background as heat blasted through her, creating delicious butterflies in the pit of her stomach.
She parted her lips in invitation as the eager anticipation bubbled through her. From the moment Dom Lucier had appeared in Pike for Lia’s wedding, he’d fascinated her. No surprise. He was a strikingly gorgeous stranger and sexy as hell.
But the past week had added depth to her initial attraction. This was a man she trusted, who she turned to when she was afraid or when she needed someone to share her thoughts. The man she wanted at her side when she woke in the morning and who would be there at the end of the day.
This was the man she wanted to be a part of her life. End of story.
“Should I whip up more frosting?” she asked as his mouth moved to explore her features with soft sweeps.
“Tempting, but I’m hungry for something sweeter.” He kissed her with a shocking demand before lifting his head to study her flushed face with a wry smile. “Perhaps we should take this upstairs. I’d like some privacy.”