“Do you actually enjoy driving that little toy?” Daniel asked, handing her a carton of sweet-and-sour chicken.
“You sound just like my brother,” she said, frowning. “RJ keeps telling me I should replace it with a real car.”
He raised one eyebrow. “I take it that isn’t something you want to do?”
“I love my Mini Cooper,” she said, defending her little car. “I could easily afford to replace it with a larger, more expensive model, but I don’t want to. It’s fun to drive and I think it suits my personality.”
“Okay,” Daniel said slowly, as if knowing he was treading on a sensitive subject. “We’ll use it and my car this afternoon, then tomorrow I’ll get one of my company pickup trucks to move what’s left.”
Having his help would greatly cut down on the amount of time it took her to move. But the more she was with Daniel, the bigger threat he posed to her peace of mind. If she continued to be around him, there was a very real danger of her falling for him again, and it would make things that much harder for her when she told him about the baby and he walked out of her life for good.
“I can’t ask you to do that,” she said regretfully. “I’m sure you have other things you need to be doing.”
“Nope. And besides, you didn’t ask.” Reaching across the table, he covered her hand with his, sending a tingling awareness spiraling throughout her body. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to help, sweetheart.”
“I don’t want—”
“Just say yes, Lily,” he commanded with the same smile that never failed to make her heart skip a beat.
Lily stared at him for a few seconds longer as she began to realize that she had already lost the battle she had been waging within herself. Sighing, she gave in to what they both wanted. “All right. Yes, you can help me move.”
Daniel carried the last box of art supplies into the studio in the Beauchamp carriage house just as daylight was starting to fade to dusk. He and Lily had made several trips from her parents’ place over to the mansion and reduced the amount of boxes piled in her living room to just a few. They had even managed to move most of her clothes and toiletries.
“It shouldn’t take long to move the rest of your things tomorrow,” he said, watching her lay out drawings of a mouse wearing a trench coat and fedora across her worktable. “We’ll be able to move twice as many boxes with the truck. You’ll probably even be able to cancel the movers for Monday.”
“Thank you for all the help, Daniel. I really appreciate it.” When she looked up, her vivid blue eyes brightened and he could practically see the wheels turning in her pretty head. “If I wanted to, I could even start staying here tonight.”
“You could,” he said, nodding. “But by the time we have dinner and you got back over here, it would be time for bed. Wouldn’t it be better to get a good night’s sleep at the apartment, then you’ll already be there to finish the move when I come by tomorrow morning with the truck.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said, putting the last of her drawing pencils into a holder on the worktable.
Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to him. “Why don’t we go back to your place, have a pizza delivered and open a bottle of wine to celebrate your move.”
“That sounds nice, but I think I’ll pass on the wine,” she said, resting her head against his chest. She was too tired to pull away and besides, it felt good to be in his arms. “I think I’d rather have the pizza and then a big bowl of ice cream with lots of chocolate syrup and peanut butter mixed in with it for dessert.”
He leaned back to see the expression on her face. “You’re serious?”
“Absolutely,” she said, grinning. “I’ve had ice cream, chocolate and peanut butter almost every night for the past few weeks.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Why do you think I keep that large carton of vanilla ice cream in the freezer?”
“Okay, I’ll give it a try. We’ll have ice cream to celebrate,” he said, laughing. He kissed her forehead. “Then I’ll run an extra couple of miles tomorrow morning just to work it off.”
Ten minutes later as they turned the corner onto the street where the Kincaid home was located, Daniel slowed the car to a stop and swore under his breath at the sight a couple of blocks ahead. “What the hell’s going on?”
Lily gasped. “Are all those vans and cars parked in front of my mother’s house?”
“It looks that way,” he said, deciding to drive on past the media circus. “Why don’t you call to see what’s up before we try to get past them to your apartment.”
“I’m almost afraid to.” When she took her cell phone from her purse, he noticed that her hands were shaking. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
He could understand her apprehension. Although he hadn’t been with her when the family had been notified of her father’s death, Daniel had seen the news-footage reporting from in front of the Kincaid mansion. He imagined it had to have been something like the scene up ahead of them.
“The line is busy. I’ll try RJ’s number,” she said as they sped past the reporters and cameramen from all the area television stations. “RJ, what on earth is going on at Momma’s?” she asked when her brother answered.
Daniel had a gut feeling that whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to be good news.
“Oh, my God! You can’t be serious.”
One glance at Lily and Daniel steered the car over to the curb. Her peaches-and-cream complexion had bleached to a ghostly white and her eyes were bright with tears.
Looking over at him, she nodded. “Yes, I’m with Daniel. We moved most of my things to the mansion this afternoon.” She paused. “Yes, of course. I’m sure I’ll be fine at the Beauchamp house tonight. Do you think the media will be gone by morning?” She paused for her brother’s answer, then added, “I promise I’ll wait for you to call tomorrow before I try to go back to the carriage house.”
“What’s happened?” Daniel asked when she ended the call.
“The police just released a report stating that my father’s death has been ruled a … homicide,” she said, the single word catching on a sob. “RJ strongly suggested that I stay at the Beauchamp house tonight if I want to avoid being accosted by the media when I try to get back home.”
“You could stay at my place,” Daniel offered.
“I’d rather not,” she said, shaking her head. “It wasn’t a secret that we were seeing each other before Christmas and I’m not entirely certain some photographer trying to get a story won’t be lurking in the shadows.”
What she said made sense. They had been featured on the society page of the newspaper more times than he cared to count during their three-month affair, and with the breaking news that Reginald Kincaid had been murdered, there was a very real possibility that his condo would be on the media’s radar as well.
“I’m staying with you,” Daniel said, steering the car back onto the street. “I don’t want you being alone until things quiet down.”
“I’ll b-be okay,” she said through chattering teeth that had nothing to do with the mild winter temperature. “I don’t w-want—”
“This isn’t negotiable,” he said firmly. “If you’re concerned about the sleeping arrangements, don’t be. I understand that things between us moved a bit fast when