Asking for Trouble - Leslie Kelly [25]
Stories about murderers and their crimes were not high on Simon’s reading list, so he had no idea what book she was talking about. Nor could he spend much energy thinking about it, not when she was so animated, leaning forward until he caught the floral scent of her hair and the spicy sweetness of her skin. Her bent leg almost brushed his own, her knee about an inch from his thigh, and Simon had to resist the urge to drop his hand over it. To cup that leg, tug her over onto his lap and settle her astride him.
If he ever made love to this woman he wanted to do it just like that. With her naked, riding him, her hair loose and wild around her face and her nipples close enough to feast upon.
He shook his head hard, forcing himself to focus on her job rather than his wild fantasies of something that was not going to happen. “What is it you think you can find here at the house?”
She looked around the office, which had once been the mansion’s library. The shelves still bulged with dusty hardback books—novels, resource periodicals, ledgers and journals. She didn’t have to say a word. He instantly got her point.
“You really think you can find something useful?” he asked, finding himself a little caught up in her excitement, against his own better judgment.
She nodded, leaning closer, her eyes sparkling. “I do. Zangara has been a real mystery. We know he did it—the bodies were found buried on the grounds along the cliffs and he was convicted of the murders. But no one ever knew why. And he was executed without ever even admitting his guilt.”
Simon remained quiet, not sure how to respond to this truly unexpected revelation. He apparently didn’t have to. Lottie wasn’t finished.
“Even his partner, your great-grandfather, could never offer any explanation as to why he might have done it. He was one of the star witnesses in the trial because he’d found one of Zangara’s kidnapping victims, who’d managed to escape, cowering in his office.”
“So, what, you think you’re going to find this Zangara’s secret journal, in which he revealed all of his dark, twisted thoughts?”
She grinned. “That’d be good.” Shrugging, she added, “But no, I don’t expect that. Your uncle’s letters said there were boxes and boxes of old correspondence, newspapers, guest registries and scrapbooks. I have no idea what I might find in them, but I would like to look.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, thinking of her request. He had work to do today—his publisher had been incredibly patient waiting for him to turn in his latest installment in his Guide to Southern Cities series. But they wouldn’t wait forever. And he needed to get the project done, not only for his career but because he needed to put Charleston behind him in every way. He was practically recovered physically. It was time to work on his mental recovery, and getting back to work was a big part of it. Having her here for even an hour more would be a complete distraction.
He prepared to say just that. But somehow, something else came out of his mouth. “All right, Lottie.”
Her smile widened. And he immediately regretted not having better control of his vocal cords.
Quickly trying to do some damage control, he continued. “I’ll give you a few hours to look through the boxes of papers in the storage room, and you can take what you need with you. But as soon as the phones come on, you call for repairs.” Knowing he was about to wipe that smile off her face, he added, “And if we don’t get phone service soon, come hell or high water I’m driving you into town this afternoon.”
THE PHONES CAME BACK ON at noon. Going to tell her, Simon found Lottie down in the basement storage room, where he’d left her this morning. She’d been sitting on the damp cement floor, surrounded