Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [66]
“But I couldn’t . . . I mean, why—”
“This belonged to my grandmother, Dolores. She told me to hold on to it until I found a woman worthy to wear it. Until now, I never have. Will you wear it, Dolores? Will you wear my grandmother’s necklace?”
“Oh, but, Vinnie . . .” Her eyes went back to the pendant, to the little swirls of forest green colored stones that wound around and around. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes. Say you’ll wear it.”
“If you want me to . . .”
“Oh, I do. I want you to wear it. It would mean the world to me.”
“Then in that case, I will.”
She leaned forward so that he could fasten it around her neck.
“Grandmother would approve,” he told her as he kissed her lips.
“Oh, Vinnie,” she sighed, and dropped back onto the sofa, one hand around the back of his neck to draw him down with her, the other fingering the most expensive piece of jewelry she’d ever owned. “Oh, Vinnie . . .”
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
“Are you a coffee drinker?” Greer looked up from her breakfast when she heard Amanda’s footsteps nearing the kitchen.
“Oh. Yes. Thank you.” Amanda stood awkwardly in the doorway, not quite certain what to do next. Both seats at the small table were already occupied.
“I know I can’t start a day without it,” Greer told her cheerfully. “Now, Steve, he’s a tea drinker. Loves the smell of coffee, but can’t stand the taste of it.”
“Morning, Amanda.” Sean looked up from the newspaper he’d been reading.
“Good morning.” Did the chief of police really feel she needed an armed guard at breakfast?
“Now you sit right here . . .” Greer moved her own plate over and added a third to the table. In the same motion, she produced a stool seemingly out of thin air.
Amanda’s head was spinning by the time she sat down, her protests falling on totally deaf ears.
“You just sit yourself there on that chair. I’ll take the stool.” Greer waved a hand in the general direction of the table where Sean sat, an amused look on his face. Apparently, he was well accustomed to his sister’s take-charge ways. “Now, are you eggs and bacon, cereal, fruit and yogurt—”
“Oh, please don’t go to any trouble.” Amanda frowned as she reached for the coffee cup Greer was passing to her.
“Well, I’ve already made eggs for Sean and myself. I like to start the day with some protein, you know.” Greer handed a small pitcher of half and half to her guest. “I’ve been thinking about one of those low carb diets. You know anyone who’s been on one of those?”
“Not that I can think of.” Amanda took a sip of coffee. It was hot enough to burn the roof of her mouth, and it did just that. She blinked against the pain as she set the cup back onto its saucer.
“Now, I have tried just about every diet”—Greer cracked two eggs into a bowl and began to whip them furiously—“but I just can’t seem to lose those last twenty pounds. So much easier ten years ago. Hell, it was easier five years ago.”
“Eggs will be fine,” Amanda offered as if Greer was actually paying attention.
“Oh, damn that phone.” She carried the bowl of eggs along with her to answer the phone. “Oh, hi, sweetheart. No, just having breakfast with Sean and Amanda. How’s Houston?” Greer set the bowl on the counter and took the phone into the dining room, chatting merrily the entire time.
Sean smiled at Amanda from across the table and folded his paper. Without a word, he rose, took the bowl of eggs, and poured them into the pan, where butter had already melted.
“I can do that,” Amanda said, feeling slightly embarrassed though not quite knowing why. Sharing early morning time with anyone was something she wasn’t accustomed to. Sharing that time with Sean Mercer seemed too intimate a thing for so casual a relationship.
Casual. She could have laughed out loud. Up until yesterday, the man had been ready to put her away for life.
“I’ve got it,” Sean said easily, as if making breakfast for former murder suspects in his sister’s kitchen was an everyday event. “Toast?”
“I’ll do it.” She got up and walked to the stove, needing to move,