For a second I got scared. Then I got out of bed, found the Triumph tee and tugged it on. He watched me move toward him and when I got close he pulled me into his lap and sat back in the chair. I felt a moment of relief that his unhappy masculine reflection didn’t include something that would mean he would never pull me into his lap again so I let my body relax and settled into him.
“Do you want to share what’s on your mind?” I asked.
“Don’t you have to brush your teeth?” he responded.
I smiled at him before I wrapped an arm around his abs, stuffing my face in his neck.
“I’d rather know what’s on your mind,” I said softly.
One of his arms was curled around my back, hand resting on my hip. The fingers of his other hand slid back and forth, from knee to tee, on my thigh. My only thought was that I could wake up like this every morning of my life.
Then Luke spoke. “What’s on my mind is that I’m responsible for what happened to you.”
All morning dewy softness flew out the window, my head jerked up and I stared at him.
“What?” I asked, somewhat loudly.
“I’m responsible,” he repeated.
I narrowed my eyes, not because I was angry, but because I didn’t have my contacts in or glasses on and I was trying to focus so I could read his face (this didn’t work).
“How on earth are you responsible?” I asked.
“I went after him, he retaliated. That’s how I’m responsible.”
Oh for goodness sakes.
“Luke, that’s just crazy.”
“It isn’t, Ava. I should have seen it coming and prepared, especially when the info started to come in on him.”
Uh-oh.
This didn’t sound good.
“What info?”
Luke didn’t hesitate before sharing. “His name isn’t Noah Dexter, he’s got a record, he’s wanted in two states and he’s been connin’ women, like he conned you, for a long time.”
I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised by that, but I was surprised by it.
“I still don’t see how that makes you responsible,” I said.
“You didn’t tell me about the jewelry.” Was Luke’s strange reply.
“What about it?”
“It was worth over sixty-five K.”
I sucked in breath at another demonstration of his freaky ability to know everything.
“How did you find that out?” I asked.
“Your aunt’s will. The jewelry was worth over sixty-five K when appraised for the will, seven years ago.”
“I’m not sure I’m following.”
“Dexter didn’t steal five grand, he stole over seventy grand. That’s a big difference. You were a larger mark than I first thought. This guy isn’t a small time con man. Far as we could tell, he was running two cons simultaneously. The one with you and some other woman, much older, disabled, in her early seventies. He got her jewelry, stole her car and wiped out her retirement account. Between the two of you, he pulled in over three hundred large.”