Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

Lacey’s parents had sat in Susa’s suite and grilled their daughter more thoroughly than the police, but with a different intent.
    “Lacey, you’re just being stubborn,” Dottie said with a sad sigh. “There’s no reason on earth you can’t wrap up whatever’s left of your little shop and come home with us right now. We do have telephone service for you to handle all the details. Oh, honey, I knew from the start that you shouldn’t have rented that ratty little place.”
    “So you’ve said before, many times.” Lacey rubbed her eyes. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m staying.”
    “You don’t have a place to live,” Brody said. It wasn’t the first time he’d pointed that out. “Be reasonable. You have no money, no home—or are you planning to sleep out of your car?”
    Ian had been trying to be invisible in the second bedroom, but thatdid it. He hung up on his great-uncle—who had been regaling him with tales of the old days in Moreno County—and made a fast call to the bellman. Then he stalked into the suite’s sitting room. The bedroom door shut real firmly behind him. He crossed over and stood beside Lacey’s chair, stroked his palm over her wild brown hair, and caressed her cheek in silent support.
    “I know y’all mean well,” he said, “but I haven’t seen anything this relentless since my two cats tag-teamed a baby bird.”
    Brody looked at the tall, relaxed man with short dark hair, unflinching eyes, and a weapon harness hanging from his broad shoulders. “Who the hell are you?”
    “Ian Lapstrake,” Lacey said quickly. “Remember?”
    “Oh,” Dottie said and smoothed her pink St. Martin’s knit suit. “You’re the one who was, uh, with Lacey when the fire broke out.” She stood and held out her hand. “I’m Dottie Quinn. I want to thank you for helping our girl. She’s not very practical about life.”
    Ian was real tempted to tell this nice, tightly wrapped piece of Pasadena society just how fine her impractical daughter looked wearing nothing but paint on her shapely ass, but decided against it.
    “My pleasure,” he said, shaking Dottie’s hand, and smiling. He didn’t understand why his smile worked on people the way it did, but he sure didn’t hesitate to take advantage of it. Especially at times like this, when butter was going to accomplish a lot more than bullets. “You have a fine and talented daughter, as I’m sure Susa Donovan will tell you when she gets off the phone with her husband.”
    Dottie smiled. “Yes, well, we love our Lacey.”
    Ian didn’t doubt it. That was the only thing that had kept him from kicking a hole in the outer wall and shoving Lacey’s parents through it. He turned to Lacey’s father. “Mr. Quinn, glad to meet you.”
    Before he knew what was happening, Brody found himself shaking the hand of his daughter’s lover. Not that it should have mattered—she was over thirty. But some reflexes die hard in a father. Bristling in the presence of a male who’d seduced his daughter was one of them.
    “You don’t have to worry about Lacey sleeping out of her car,” Ian said. “The suite next door is being made up for her right now. It’s hers as long as she wants it.”
    Lacey made a startled sound. “But I can’t afford it.”
    “No worries. It’s free.”
    Her brown eyes widened. “Since when is a Savoy Hotel suite free?”
    “Since I called Rarities and told Dana about the paintings.”
    Lacey shook her head like a dog coming out of water, making loose curls dance. “Excuse me? I’m kind of slow this morning.”
    He smiled, tipped her chin up, and brushed a gentle kiss over her lips. “Darling, one thing you never are is slow.”
    She closed her eyes, blew out a breath that sent stray curls flying, and tried to gather her thoughts. “What’s happening?”
    Brody smiled. Any man who could sidetrack Lacey with a light kiss had more going for him than the average bedroom jockey. About time, too.
    “Susa told Dana about the paintings,” Ian said. “You remember? The ones you ran back into a burning building to save?”
    “It wasn’t burning,” Lacey said.
    “What would you call it?”
    She stuck out her lower lip. “Almost burning.”
    “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but isn’t that the same almost burning building you wouldn’t let me go back into for your paintings?”
    “That was different.”
    Instead of being irritated, Ian grinned. “Oh, well, that explains it.”
    Lacey