I saluted. "You will tell me if you learn anything about that Wings truck, won't you?" I sort of begged.

"Since it appears to have been stolen to get to you, I will," he said, "if only for your own protection."

"I appreciate that."

The minute the door closed behind him, I turned to Eve. "Put Dom's note in my purse, will you?"

She immediately swiped it from the newspaper and did exactly that.

"Change of plans," I said. "Wait on our customer, will you? I'm going upstairs to call Nick."

"Is he on a.s.signment?"

"Yes, but I'm going to try to lure him home with the promise of a diamond heist, New York style."

"What makes you think he'll leave the case he's already on?"

"I have my ways . . . with him."

"Barf," Eve said. "TMI."

I almost smiled as I climbed my enclosed stairway. In my nearly empty second floor: sewing nook in one corner, collection of caskets in another, and two, count them, two, horse-drawn hea.r.s.es to the side, I had plenty of room to pace. Which I did while I waited for Nick to answer his cell phone. Sometimes when he was on a.s.signment and he didn't want to be heard or noticed, he turned it off. This could be one of those times.

I was just about to give up when he answered. "Hey, ladybug," he said. "Sorry I took so long answering. I was in the shower."

"Good; if you've got a shower, you're probably not in a jungle somewhere."

"Great powers of deduction, but I'm home. I got in an hour ago."

"Is my brother, and your FBI partner, home, too?"

"Dropped Alex off myself."

"Good. I always do double duty in the worry department when you two are off on some top-secret a.s.signment. Dad will be glad to hear it, too."

"I saw your father and Fiona strolling down your street as I drove by, so I stopped to say h.e.l.lo. Are those two an item?"

"Only in the minds of every Mystick Falls resident except them."

Nick chuckled.

"I'm glad Dad knows you and Alex are back. Did you see the morning papers?"

"I'm sorry about your friend, ladybug. Want to come over and be consoled?"

"Yes, but not now. Want to come to New York?"

"When?"

"Now? I got a package from Dominique this morning with a cryptic note that I'd love for you to see."

"I can read a note here."

"Dominique's son, Kyle, needs my help with the publicity hounds and gossipmongers chomping at the bits on his front steps. Besides, I'm the executor of Dom's will. Werner says that the FBI is working the missing Pierpont diamond case."

Silence.

I could hear the gears in Nick's brain start turning. "I've worked with the New York office before."

"I know. I was hoping you could connect, find out where things stand."

"Why?"

"Dom sort of asked me to."

"You only want me to go with you so you can use me."

I smiled. "So I promise not to use you."

His growl radiated meaning. "Wrong answer, but I'll change your mind. I'll pick you up in an hour."

Not if I get to you first, I thought.

Nine.

Choose your corner, pick away at it carefully, intensely and to the best of your ability, and that way you might change the world.

-CHARLES EAMES Before I left, another odd customer showed, and Werner walked in behind him, as if the surly detective had been watching the place. He must have found the lip- glossed ski b.u.m cause for concern.

The man had black-and-white-streaked hair artfully arranged to look messy and wore a designer ski outfit and goggles. I'm just surprised he wasn't carrying a pair of skis.

He did not come from Mystick Falls.

The pieces of his Mount Tom garb fit together too well, down to his slightly worn ski boots. Like the Lady in Red, who still graced the store, it seemed as if a theatrical costumer had dressed him.

That's what they looked like, theater people, both of them.

Worse, they walked around the shop as if they were stuck to opposing ends of magnets, like one couldn't get near the other because the pressure against it was too great.

In Dante's chair and from behind Eve's newspaper, Werner watched them as covertly as I did. Frankly, he looked like a retro, poverty-stricken cliche of a PI. The only thing missing was the cigarette dangling from his lips.

Werner aside, why would I have two such bizarro customers in one morning?

My day felt oddly orchestrated and transiently surreal, more so than the dream that started it. I picked up my bag with the boxed dress and packaging in it, glanced back at my weirdo customers, and gave Werner a helpless look.

He took off his coat. "Go," he whispered. "I'll put it down as a stakeout."

Eve released her breath and fell back in her chair. I hadn't realized that she'd been nervous about being left alone with the oddb.a.l.l.s.

"I owe you," I told Werner, grabbing the canvas bag. "I'll take care of this and go find Aunt Fiona. I won't be long, I promise."

At Nick's house, I used my key to get in while looking forward to seeing him. A long separation could make for some hot fire, which we tended to shy away from. Nick and I have been toying with our s.e.x-charged relationship, like kids and fire, since junior high.

We've both matured, but our relationship has remained somewhat static, unless you count the way in which we now express ourselves, with rare flashes of spontaneous combustion.

As soon as the fire gets too hot, however, we back away, both of us. We've never discussed it, but that's how we like it. I guess you could call it a semi-monogamous flirtation, no sparks barred, just infernos.

It also kept us safe from relationship shopping, blind dates, bad pickup lines, and poor choices. Gee, maybe we hadn't matured as much as I thought.

Go figure.

I left Dominique's gown in Nick's new living room, decorated with a heavy dollop of unpacked boxes. "Nick, where are you?"

"Up here."

I took the stairs at a fast clip. h.e.l.l, I hadn't seen him for more than a month. But when I found him . . . squeak!

My Italian stud turned from the sink in nothing but a pair of red silk boxers and one cheek's worth of shaving cream. One side of his mouth went up in a half smile, like he'd been caught with his pants down and liked my reaction.

Heart palpitations. Screw the fire.

I was in his arms before he could finish wiping his face, but that didn't matter to the kiss. He raised me, walked me to his bed, and we went down together.

The kiss, practiced and French, tasted like we were definitely on again, and it lasted long enough to catch up with our time apart. As clothes got unb.u.t.toned, the heat in the room rose proportionally.

Spontaneous combustion was a near thing, and finishing what we shouldn't have started a dangerous possibility when time was not our friend.

I sat straight up and knocked Nick off the bed. "Friend! Dead. Can't," I said, falling back on my elbows, achingly aware of what I was about to miss. "New York. Now."

"So you came here, why?" he asked, getting up off the floor. "To help me get ready?" He frowned. "Ready for what?"

I bit my lip as I got up and reb.u.t.toned my suit jacket. "Dom sent me a valuable gown, a collectable with great provenance. I need to lock it in your safe room before we go."

"I'd better go downstairs with you."

"Why? I know the way."

"My libido needs a time-out, preferably in cold storage."

"You'll freeze."

"If I'm lucky, though this doesn't seem to be my lucky day."

He slipped on a pair of tan casual slacks to accompany me downstairs and after that to walk me to the front door, but he didn't bother with a shirt, the tease. He knew how tempting I found his ripped muscles.

I gave him Dom's note to read, and after he did, he ran a hand through his hair, a dark tussled curl falling to his forehead as he whistled.

"I told you. Meet me at the shop when you finish packing. I have to see if Aunt Fee can run the shop for me while we're gone."

"I'm pretty sure she can."

"I've learned not to count on anything."

"Three days in New York together," he said as his mouth came for mine. "Three nights," he whispered, before he took the kiss slow and deep, and gave me a taste of the possibilities.

I sighed. "Man, you feel good."

He groaned deep in his chest and pushed me away. "For both our sakes."

Still, I hated the loss of his body heat. "Why am I supposed to go?" I asked, l.u.s.t-dazed.

"Aunt Fee. Shop." He took me by the shoulders and turned me to face my car, then he half-patted, half-caressed my backside to prod me in the right direction.

His chuckle as I practically sleepwalked to my car reminded me of why he spoiled me for other men.

Ten.

People should learn about their own styles and know more about themselves.

-VIVIENNE TAM I checked the mirror on my visor. Starry eyes, warm pink cheeks, no lipstick left, my blush smudged with a dollop of shaving cream.

s.e.x starved.

"Baste it, Mad, you've gotta get moving, here." I looked back at the house and ogled temptation in the flesh as Nick stood in the doorway, pulling one slow suspender over his bare chest, a grin on his face.

I shook my fist at him.

He nodded and saluted as I backed down the drive.

Getting Aunt Fiona to work for me called for a face-to-face, and if she and dad were still out walking together, I'd catch two birds and all that. I could use a brisk walk myself about now, to clear the cobwebs, and there were plenty.

I saw Dad and Aunt Fiona from two blocks away, arguing as usual, and they were loving every minute of it, as if the rest of the world didn't exist. That was new. Usually they wouldn't want anyone to hear them, which meant, arguing or not, they were wholly absorbed in each other.

The world as I knew it tilted on its axis.

My father had disliked Aunt Fiona the minute they met. She and my mother, best friends since college, had practiced witchcraft together, a belief system my father barely tolerated.