The Love Scam - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,74
and concern, which was more than Claire could say about her own motivation. “The password thing I get—he guessed my password!” she added, unable to keep the admiration out of her tone. “But out of all the people on the planet who could have hired me, how’d you guess it was your grandma?”
He went to the bedside table, picked up his phone, glanced at the time. Odd—were they going somewhere? Did he have an appointment? Then he said, “Can I get dressed? And how about breakfast?” He shot a look at his grandmother that Delaney prayed would never be directed at her. “You’re buying.”
“Of course, darling. I’d like to hear those answers myself.”
Bemused—whatever Delaney had dreaded about the morning, she hadn’t expected this—Delaney went to find her clothes.
Forty-four
“First off, the friendly lady I met in Lake Como, and again in Venice, just happened to have a set of clothes in my size?”
They were seated at the hotel’s outdoor café, Rake with a Virgin Mary and Delaney with iced tea. Rake’s grandma had hot tea she fussed over (one and a half spoons of sugar, a splash of cream, just a splash, absolutely no lemon, and stir and stir and stir) but didn’t drink. If Delaney was right—and she’d been wrong about everything else this week—Rake’s grandma was embarrassed. Not about catching them postsex; she seemed positively thrilled about that. About the other. About setting spies on her grandson, then taking all his money.
Rake was shaking his head. “I assumed you’d hooked up with some stud in Italy. I was even a little jealous of your mystery guy.”
“I don’t do that,” Delaney said quietly, looking at her tea.
“No?” he teased.
“Well, okay, but believe it or not, I made an exception for you. You’re the stud in Italy.”
“O, glorious words, music to my ears.” He turned back to his grandmother. “Then there was this.” He showed them his phone. “This isn’t a used one that happens to be in incredible shape from eBay. My grandma knew exactly what kind I had and sent you exactly the right replacement.”
“We didn’t have to go to FedEx, though,” Delaney said quickly. “I really didn’t think you should have to wait for it to get to the hotel.”
“Sweet,” the nuclear option commented. When Delaney leveled her a look, she didn’t drop her gaze. “No, really. That was sweet. I knew you were a nice girl under all that bravado.”
Delaney snorted.
“And I don’t think I ever told you my last name,” Rake continued. “Maybe when I was shit-faced in Como—sorry, Nonna—but I don’t think so. You knew it, though. And when I called myself a millionaire, you weren’t surprised. You didn’t even blink. You knew I wasn’t an ordinary tourist, when all you were supposed to know was that I was some random idiot who pitched his wallet and woke up stranded in Venice.” He took something out of his pocket and looked at it. She realized with a start that it was her business card. He’d kept it? And looked at it quite a lot, judging by how worn it was.
He showed the card to Mrs. Tarbell and turned back to Delaney. “I. C. Delaney. I See Delaney. Not just seeing people. Seeing what they’re up to, good and bad. I must have seemed like everything you hate: a spoiled rich guy who never gave much thought to anyone who needed help.”
“No,” she choked out. “No.” Then, because it actually hurt to keep the truth from him, she elaborated. “At first. Yeah. But it didn’t last long. You couldn’t hide your essential wonderfulness.” She blinked. Man, falling in love shot her vocabulary to hell. And wasn’t it strange? Irony: She could finally tell him everything without breaking her word … and didn’t want to. Almost didn’t dare.
“It’s how I found her,” Mrs. Tarbell said, giving Rake back Delaney’s card. “She’s a special kind of private investigator—”
“No. I don’t even have a license.” Too much paperwork, too wide a trail. Too many questions she couldn’t answer.
“—and Teresa couldn’t recommend her enough.” And when they both stared at her: “Yes, I know Teresa. One of her little charges tried to steal my purse when I was here last summer. Ohhh, the scolding she gave that child! I slipped him fifty euros when she wasn’t looking.”
Delaney smiled, the first real one since the three of them had sat down. “Teresa sees everything, Mrs. Tarbell.”
“Those big beseeching dark eyes, I couldn’t help it.” She stirred her tea more. She hadn’t