He wasn’t trying to hide his thoughts and wasn’t surprised when she guessed his next question.

“Can’t help but wonder, me being a cop and all.”

She snatched the stick from his hand. “I’m not a thief.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“But you thought it.” She wrapped them both back up.

“True.” He got up to pour them both more coffee.

“What am I supposed to think? You’ve been lying about everything since I met you.”

“I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

Placing his hands on the counter, Todd looked directly into her eyes. “Let’s go over the facts as I see them. Here I have a beautiful, well-spoken woman who fakes amnesia to avoid questions. She has such a strong conviction about whatever it is she’s hiding that she takes to the streets in a city she is unfamiliar with.” He moved around the counter and stood next to her. “She has a family somewhere, but is unwilling or unable to ask for their help.”

She looked down at her hands to avoid his eyes.

He touched her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“This woman shows me a pair of candlesticks that look expensive, and I’m supposed to believe they aren’t stolen? I’m gullible, Myra, not stupid.”

“If you think so little of me, why are you helping me?” she whispered.

He watched her eyes dart back and forth between his. “I don’t know.” He moved closer, his hand left her chin and rested on her shoulder. He really should walk away but her scent drew him in.

“I promise you, I didn’t steal them.”

“Prove it.”

Myra swallowed hard. “I can’t.” She stood up and backed away from him. He was cutting off her air. His nearness conflicted with her body and brain. “Why?”

She gave him her back, and tried to collect herself. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“This is going nowhere. I should leave.” Myra started toward her room.

He reached out and pulled her back and into his arms. His free hand caught her wet hair on the back of her head and held it. His eyes searched hers for a brief moment before he swore, “Dammit.” Then his lips crushed down to hers.

She hadn’t expected it and stood stunned and unable to move. His assault on her mouth was as torturous as it was pleasant. His hungry kiss was laced with anger. No one had ever kissed her like this, no one would have dared.

When his other hand swept up to hold her head in place, she swayed toward him. His tongue probed hers, demanding. Once her lips parted, he moved in deeper. The intimacy of their kiss, his complete possession of her senses, had her swimming.

Butterflies exploded inside of her when his kiss went on. Stunned at first, she simply let him in. Yet as the kiss grew, her own desire swept over her. Her timid hand, clutched at her side, moved to his waist.

Todd groaned and pressed her to the wall.

His hard frame brought awareness to every crease of her body. Myra’s fingers touched the bare skin of his warm welcoming chest. A surge of heat pooled deep in her stomach and caused an aching deep within the folds of her sex.

He moved away almost as quickly as he had taken possession.

Breathless, her eyes stayed shut, afraid to look at him. She was embarrassed somehow, even though she had nothing to be embarrassed about.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” he spoke through the fog.

“Aye, you’re right about that.” She dared a look.

Saw understanding eyes.

“You drive me to do things I wouldn’t otherwise.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” His expression searched hers again. “Give me something, Myra, something to start the trust.”

His request sounded more like a plea.

“MacCoinnich, my surname is MacCoinnich. My home is in Scotland, but I cannot return there yet.”

Todd nodded and took a deep breath.

“I’m going to take a shower, Myra MacCoinnich, and then we can find an antique dealer to see what it is you have.”

She glanced toward the door, wondered briefly if she should leave, but knew she wouldn’t.

“Promise me you won’t go.”

Did he read her thoughts? “I promise.”

Chapter Four

After visiting two antique shops, and finding them operated by average minimum wage clerks, Todd decided to take their chances at an auction house that specialized in antiques.

He knew he was in the right place the minute they went through the alarmed door with a security guard standing by.

Todd immediately asked for whoever bought items or commissioned them to sell. While they were waiting, Myra walked the floor.

A candelabrum stood on one of the massive tables in the center of the room. Her fingers lingered on the piece as she sighed.

Todd watched her touch the ends of it and smile.

“You would need a big room to fit that piece.”

“Yes, you would.”

“I wonder why it’s so large.” It stood almost four feet tall and had room for over a dozen candles.

“Back when this was made, it needed to light a large dining hall or room. We, er, they didn’t have lights like you do today.”

“Ahh, just what I love to hear, someone who knows mid-century art.” The proprietor wore a three-piece suit and an extra fifty pounds. His beard was neat, short and just like him. “Welcome to Graystones.” He extended his hand to both of them.

When he turned to Myra he said, “You look very familiar, have we met before?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“My mistake. My name is Robert Harrison. I was told you were looking for me.”

“Are you in charge of buying antiques?” Todd asked once they sat down next to the man’s desk.

“Some we buy, some we commission for sale.

What is it you want to sell?”

Myra removed the candlesticks out of her bag and un-wrapped them one by one. “I hate to part with them, but I find I must.” She lovingly put them on his desk.

He reached for his glasses, set them on the end of his gin blossom nose, and proceeded to stare.

“Amazing. Where did you get them?”

“They’ve been in my family for years.”

“Your family is from Scotland?” he asked.

“Aye.”

“You can tell that by looking at those?” Todd questioned.

“That and the accent gave it away.” Mr.

Harrison laughed at his own joke. “See here?” he pointed to markings on the base. “Celtic. And here you see words, most likely Gaelic. I’ll need to look up their meaning.”