Blood Kills, Nanci Rathbun [best books to read for self improvement TXT] 📗

asleep. My plans for that special negligee melted away. Apparently, soft flannel was just as alluring. No complaints from me though, as we moved from the urgency of an overdue reunion to a gentler rhythm and then back to sleep.

When we woke for the second time, he showered while I got the coffee brewing and chopped onions and peppers for cheese omelets. When I heard the water stop, I slid bread into the toaster and placed our plates, mugs, and glasses of juice on the table.

Wukowski emerged, blinking, into the dining area of the open living space. Wrapping his arms around me, he drew me close and rested his chin on the top of my head. “I’ve been dreaming of waking up with you for months.”

“Me too, caro. But don’t get frisky again. I’m hungry.”

We sat and I began to wolf down the food. “I don’t know why I’m so ravenous.” With a mischievous grin, I added, “Well, maybe I do. Exercise in the morning fires up the appetite, or so I recall.”

He laughed and then sobered. “More likely your body’s response to the sustained adrenaline release last night. You need calories. So do I.” He forked up a big mouthful of omelet. “I almost stroked out when I got the call from Spider.”

“Are you planning to take me to task?” I hated the idea that he would spoil this lovely start to a long-anticipated reunion.

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Maybe later in the week though.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

We spent a leisurely morning talking about everything but the case. Like me, he’d done home projects while we were separated, and he shared photos of the new pergola that provided shade for his patio in the summer. “We can enjoy it for a couple more months, if we bundle up. I’ll buy one of those propane patio heaters.”

“Lovely,” I told him, picturing us with glasses of wine, side by side on the new glider that also graced the outside area. “And by the way, you haven’t mentioned the changes to the bedroom decor.”

His Han Solo grin widened into a full-fledged smile. “Didn’t notice,” he said. “Too worried about you last night and too busy this morning. Let’s check it out.”

Arms around each other’s waists, we ambled into the bedroom. There, on my nightstand, stood a framed photo of Wukowski and me, taken by my BFF Judy from the outdoor dining area of a restaurant on Pewaukee Lake. I’d packed it in the bottom of a duffel bag full of his things, to remind him of me… of us, when the MPD order came down.

“You brought it back,” I whispered, clutching him closer to my side.

“Never left my bedroom, but I figure I’ll be seeing it plenty now.”

“We haven’t talked about… about what’s going to happen next.” I hated that I sounded so tentative.

“Next you’re going to give me a tour. Point out all the little touches, because you know they’ll escape me and I don’t want to overlook anything.”

Okay, I thought, we’ll postpone the serious talk. The one about us. The one where I’d ’fess up to my realization last night that I’d wasted enough time clinging to my independence. If he didn’t get to it, I’d propose marriage, conventions be damned.

The bed was still rumpled, so, together, we straightened the coverings. “New color scheme,” I said. “Ice cube silver—light gray to you—on the walls, with French-blue bedding. I wanted soothing colors.”

“I like it,” he said.

“That, by the way”—I pointed to the cotton/linen blend comforter and shams—“is called pintucking.”

“Huh. Makes little diamonds. Nice.”

With a sigh, I gave up trying to explain my decorating choices and made straight for the bottom line. “I thought the room was too feminine before. I wanted you to feel welcome.”

“Moja miłość, all I need to feel welcome in your bedroom are your open arms.” He kissed me soundly and then leaned back. “By the way, you mentioned commissioning art panels from Swanson.”

“Yes,” I said, afraid to veer too close to a topic that might prompt dissension. “They’re still in his shop’s loading bay.” I pointed to the wall opposite the bed. “They’re supposed to hang there. Hammered and shaped copper, with blue and aqua patinas.” I felt my chin wobble. “I’m not sure I want them anymore. Maybe I’ll put them up for sale.”

“Because?”

“Because if Mick truly was an assassin, those panels will haunt me every time I look at them.”

Chapter 59

A daughter may outgrow your lap, but she will never outgrow your heart.

Anonymous

The landline rang, and I headed for the kitchen. Caller ID showed Papa’s number. Knowing that Aunt Terry had stayed with him last night and must have filled him in on the happenings at Spider’s, I prepared myself for a lecture. “Good morning, Papa.”

“Angelina, la mia figlia più cara, you are well after the events of last night?”

My dearest daughter. Thank goodness, I wasn’t in for a lecture. Yet. “I am,” I told him. “Wukowski stayed with me.”

“Ah, good. He is there with you now?”

“Yes.” What was this about? Papa usually turned a blind eye to his daughter’s sexuality.

“Then invite him for our Sunday meal.”

Sunday! I’d completely forgotten what day it was. “I… I don’t plan to be there today,” I said. “I’m feeling a little wiped out. But I’m fine, truly,” I hastened to add, lest he and my aunt arrive at my door in thirty minutes.

“Hmm. Well, you should plan to spend time soon with Terry. The two of you need to… debrief. Talk it over with each other so that it doesn’t gain power in your minds. Trust me on this.”

“I think you’re right, Papa. I’ll call her soon.”

“Bene. Now, I know that you are the caregiver and the person who wants to fix things for others, but for the moment, let Wukowski take care of you.” He paused and then added, “Unless he must work. In that case, come home. You should not be alone today.”

Not wanting to lie to my papa, I covered the receiver and