Trust Me

and Jason.”
    Desdemona stopped in front of the elevator. “I meant what I said earlier. I’m very glad you followed me tonight. It saved me having to talk Tony into asking for your help. He can be awfully stubborn.”
    Stark pressed the elevator call button. “He thinks I’m guilty. That I set him up because I’m jealous.”
    “Don’t worry about that. He was just firing from the hip, as usual. He’s a little emotional at the moment.” The elevator doors opened. Desdemona stepped inside. “Can’t blame him for being on edge. It does look as though someone is trying to set him up for murder, doesn’t it?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Thank goodness he found that gun before the police did. I’ll bet whoever is behind this planned to give the cops an anonymous tip about it.”
    “Possible.”
    Desdemona froze. Fear flashed in her eyes. “The police might be looking for Tony at this very moment.”
    “You’ll know if they’re looking for him,” Stark said. “The first thing they’ll do is ask you or someone else in the family where he is.”
    “Good point. Well, since no one’s been asked, we have to assume that Vernon’s so-called client is lying low for a while.”
    Stark could not think of anything to say to that. He put his arm around Desdemona. This time she relaxed against him. He relaxed a little, too.
    They rode the elevator to the fifth floor in silence.
    Desdemona led the way down the hall and opened the door of her apartment. “I’ll make the coffee.”
    Stark closed the door very deliberately. He had to tell her the truth, he thought. He had to get it out on the table. “Desdemona?”
    She tossed him a smile over her shoulder. “Yes?”
    “I didn’t follow you tonight because I was worried about you or because I got some kind of telepathic communication. I followed you because I knew that you had lied when you said Tony was not back in town.” Stark shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I figured you were trying to protect him.”
    “I was.” She walked around the glass brick counter and went to work on the gleaming espresso machine. “And if you knew that I had lied, then you must have been on the same wavelength as me, because no one else in the family suspected it. It only goes to show how really close we are.”
    “Damn it, Desdemona, I’m trying to explain something here.”
    She glanced up with an inquiring expression. “What’s that?”
    He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated by his inability to make his point clear. “I don’t know.”
    She grinned. “Poor Stark. You’re overintellectualizing this, you know.”
    “I am?”
    “Uh-huh. Relax. Things have been rather emotional for all of us lately. Try to stay focused on the problem of finding Vernon Tate’s client.”
    He blinked. “You’re telling me to stay focused?”
    “Right.” Steam hissed. “Here, have a nice hot cup of espresso. A jolt of caffeine should help settle your nerves.”
    “I do not have a case of nerves. I have never had a case of nerves in my life.”
    “Whatever.” She set the cup down on the counter.
    Stark sat down on a stool and wrapped his hands around the tiny cup. “What happens if it turns out that Tony really is the killer, Desdemona?”
    “He isn’t.”
    “Damn it, what if he is, and I’m the one who proves it?”
    She stilled, her eyes suddenly troubled. “I don’t know.”
    “Will you hate me for uncovering the truth?” he made himself ask.
    “Hate you?” She frowned. “Why would I hate you? Our relationship isn’t based on whether or not Tony’s guilty.”
    “Isn’t it?”
    “Stark, you’re not making any sense here. Tony is not guilty. But if, hypothetically speaking, he were guilty, it wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”
    “It’s called shooting the messenger,” Stark said wearily. “Happens all the time.”
    She sipped her espresso. “You’re going to have to trust me on this, Stark.”
    Stark’s fingers tightened around the fragile cup. “Will you marry me?”
    Several drops of coffee spilled from her cup. Desdemona did not seem to notice. She stared at him. “Why?”
    “Why? What kind of thing is that to say?” Stark was suddenly angry. “This is a simple yes or no quiz, not an essay question. All I want is a straightforward answer.”
    “Okay.”
    “Okay, what? Yes or no? Will you marry me?”
    “Calm down, I said okay, didn’t I?”
    He watched her from beneath half-lowered lashes. “You will?”
    She gave