Dangerous Temptations Page 5

  Wesley took off his suit jacket and laid it on the back of the couch, leaving him in his navy, pinstriped pants, vest, and tan shirt. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

  The living room was my favorite room, with the large bookshelves flanking the fireplace and large windows. I loved this house. “My bedroom and the living room are unpacked. The rest of the house… not so much. I’m glad I’m somewhat of a minimalist when it comes to decorating.”

  “It’s coming together. Virg did a great job with the restoration.”

  “It’s perfect. I’ve loved this house for as long as I can remember. I can’t believe it all worked out.”

  Wesley took in the room again. “Virg told me about the higher offer. I think things worked out the way they were supposed to.”

  I beamed. “Me, too. Let’s go to my messy kitchen to see if I can find the corkscrew and glasses.”

  Luckily, I found both. With the ease of an expert, Wesley opened the bottle and poured us each a small glass. As we walked to the living room, he raised his glass for a toast. “To new adventures.”

  “To new adventures,” I echoed. We clinked glasses, and I took a sip, enjoying the sweetness of the wine. “Hmm… this is good.”

  “Good. I got the best Moscato they had at the store. How about a tour of the rest of the place?”

  I showed Wesley the house and explained how I envisioned each room. In the next couple of days, I’d be done. Another item checked off the checklist.

  It was nearly seven when he glanced at the time. “I have to meet some colleagues. I may have to go out of town and do some work at the main law office in Boston.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Not too long. They would like me to start coming more frequently.”

  I frowned. “Well, let me know. I definitely want to get together more now that I’m here.”

  He stood and held out his hand to help me off the couch. “It’s good to have you back. Maybe dinner at A Mano Italian Kitchen?”

  A Mano Italian Kitchen was one of the nicest restaurants in town. “Sounds great. I haven’t eaten there in a while.”

  We made our way back to the kitchen, and Wesley placed his wineglass in the sink. “What are you going to do tonight?”

  “I’m tired. I’m going to grab my laptop, go to bed, and research the letter a little more.”

  “Letter?”

  We were almost back to the living room and Wesley was putting on his suit jacket. I’d forgotten I hadn’t read the letter to Wesley. “The ultimate adventure from Grandpa. It was the letter with the medallion I showed you.”

  At the mention of the coin, Wesley nodded. “I remember now.”

  “There was a letter with a clue leading to more letters. Now, it’s just about finding the home referenced in it. There were no names mentioned. Only nicknames. It’ll probably take me the rest of my life with nothing to go on.”

  He chuckled. “You always were a sucker for a tricky scavenger hunt. Good luck with that. I remember you used to drag me around with Virg every year when he made you one.”

  “Those were good times. I hope this one takes me a long time to solve. It’ll be like holding onto Grandpa a little longer.”

  “I do, too.” At the door, he turned and said, “I’ll catch you later, Sydney.”

  “See ya.”

  After Wesley left, I started another load of dishes in the dishwasher. My stomach growled, but I was too tired to fix anything. I was about to head upstairs when my doorbell rang again.

  Looking at the peephole, I saw nothing, but I heard a dog barking. I opened the door, and the little boxer puppy Mike had found sat on my front porch, wrestling with a Kong filled with peanut butter. “What are you doing here?”

  I looked around but saw no one. Finally, I heard a bell ringing from the side of the house. Mike stepped onto the porch, holding his phone in one hand and a pizza box in another. “This was the best I could do as a warning bell on short notice.”

  I burst out laughing. “You must think I’m crazy.”

  “Or adorable.”

  My grin widened. “I think I much prefer that adjective.”

  Do not fall. Do not fall. I repeat—do not fall.

  “Maggie Maye and I thought you might be hungry after moving all day.”

  On cue, my stomach growled. “I think you two might be right.” The boxer took off inside. I raised my eyebrow. “Maggie Maye? You named the dog?”

  “Yeah, I’m screwed.” Mike laughed, running his free hand through his hair.

  I never thought I’d want anyone to be separated from their pet, but I hoped we never found the little boxer’s owner.

  He took a deep breath. “Have you heard from anyone about Mags?”

  At his question, Maggie Maye looked up at me.

  “No, nothing. We’ve called the local hotels, too. And no one has checked for her at the local shelters, either.”

  Seemingly satisfied with my response, Maggie Maye picked up her Kong and took it in front of the fireplace where she kept chewing on it to get at the peanut butter inside. “Come on in.”

  We walked into the living room, and I pointed to the table. “Things are still a mess, so ignore that. Let me get some water. Or do you want wine? I don’t have much and tomorrow I plan to go to the grocery store.”

  “Water works great.”

  I found two clean glasses and filled them from the fridge dispenser. Mike followed me into the kitchen where he got paper plates and napkins from the counter.

  The pizza smelled delicious. “Perfect timing. I was starving.”

  “And my warning bell worked. So far today, you’ve had zero accidents in my presence.”

  I threw my head back. “I’m never going to live down the last few days, am I?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good thing the most embarrassing things have stayed put in my mind.” My eyes widened, and Mike cocked his head to the left. “Forget I said anything.”

  He leaned in. “I’ll let you in on a little secret…”

  “What’s that?” My voice was barely a whisper.

  “I’m just as affected, Sydney.”

  We grinned at each other. He felt it, too. “That’s good to know.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  The air became ripe with sexual energy, so I took another bite of my pizza. Mike looked around the living room. “Virg mentioned that you’ve loved this place since you were a little girl.”

  “I have. I used to come here to see Peggy and Wilbur. They were like grandparents to me. You’ve probably met Peggy.”

  Mike nodded. “Yeah, she’s part of the Red Hat Society. I swear those women are trouble.”

  “For sure. You might have to arrest them at some point.” We laughed. Then I asked, “How well did you know Grandpa?”

  Mike looked around the room a moment or two longer before his eyes settled back on me. “As well as you can get to know someone in a couple of months, I guess. We shot the breeze at the coffee shop a few times a week. He told me about you and this house. Said he couldn’t wait to introduce me to you. Having come from Chicago, it was a nice change of pace.”

  I wondered why Grandpa never mentioned Mike. Not that he said a ton about who he talked to, but I figured his name might have come up at some point. I had my suspicions that Grandpa might have had a matchmaking scheme up his sleeve and had planned to introduce us.

  Sydney

  We were nearly done with the pizza—only taking an occasional bite here and there—and were still talking. “What made you decide to leave Chicago?” I asked.

  “I needed a fresh start, a change of pace.”

  “Does your family live there?”

  “Dad lives in Boston and retired a number of years ago after being a police officer for twenty years. His father had made some good investments, so it was easy for Dad to step away from the force when things started to change too much for him. He worked part time at his best friend’s hardware
shop mostly to keep himself busy until recently. Mom lives in Chicago. She and Dad divorced when I was young, and Mom moved us to Chicago to be close to her family. Dad’s been trying to talk my mother into moving back to Boston. They never remarried but stayed the best of friends. Mom’s even mentioned moving back to Boston someday. They worry about each other, but my older sister, Karen, is expecting her first baby, so I doubt Mom will be leaving Chicago anytime soon. Karen’s husband might be getting transferred to New York City, though. We’re keeping our fingers crossed. It would be nice to have her close by. Mom and Dad always told us they were too young when they got married and drifted apart. They both seem pretty happy, though. That’s what counts.”

  “It sounds like it all worked out in the end. I bet your dad is happy to have you closer.”

  “He is. My brother, Darrin, lives in Boston, he has ever since he graduated college there. He’s married, two kids. Aaron is two, and Lucy is five. Dad gets to spend a lot of time with the kids, which makes him happy and Mom jealous.” Mike took another bite, then asked, “What about you?”

  I launched into my childhood history of coming to Salem each summer. My love for history and scavenger hunts. Even if Grandpa had already shared these details with Mike, he seemed thoroughly interested. “I’m sure Grandpa told you… well maybe… I don’t know. But I lost my parents a couple of years ago in a car accident. So it’s only me now.”

  “I’m sorry, Sydney. I can’t imagine.”

  “Thanks, it’s hard knowing I’ll never practice with Grandpa, but I have a wonderful legacy to carry forward. Today, I got a letter he left for me. There was another letter and a coin for what he called the ultimate scavenger hunt.”

  “Can I read it?”

  I took out the journal I used for notes from its spot on the bookshelf. The letter was safe between the pages. I handed him the medallion first. “This was with it.”

  “Alchemists? What does that mean?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. I haven’t been able to find anything on the internet.”

  “We are united with no beginning and no end,” Mike read from the inscription on the coin then flipped it over to look at the symbol. “It seems handcrafted. From the detailed workmanship, I would say it’s from the 1800s.”

  “How’d you know?” I’d planned to stop by the jewelers over the weekend to see if they could help me identify the coin or at least try and determine when it may have been made.

  “I had a case in Chicago where rare and exotic coins were stolen. Solid gold coins weren’t made until almost 1800, and this isn’t cast.” He examined it more closely. “There’s no seam. And the die axis looks right for that time frame. I might be wrong, but this coin probably came from the 1800s. A collector might be able to narrow it down more. Of course, it looks like it was a custom order, so that may alter my time frame. I’ve got a history degree, so I love this sort of thing.”

  Oh my word. He was super uber sexy when it came to macho-man police stuff. Like “move over, sizzling bacon, and make room for the hot tamale.”

  Oh hell, here I go again.

  My silence apparently made Mike a little nervous. “Sorry. It’s hard to switch out of cop mode sometimes.” I was still speechless. “Sydney?”

  “Something like that requires warning bells. You really need to warn a girl. Like… whoa.”

  “Duly noted,” he teased with a full-fledged smile. “What else do you know?”

  I handed him the letter so he could read it. “I know that an alchemist is a person or persons who can transform something through some seemingly magical process. I’ve looked up magicians through that time and found none named Alchemist. The woman named Q addresses the letter to Ayana, which means beautiful blossom. I’m sure they’re nicknames for each other. The letter was meant for someone in Massachusetts. Now I just have to find the house—if it’s still standing.”

  Mike read the letter again. “What are you going to look for?”

  “First, find out if I can isolate the era within the 1800s for the coin. Then look up houses during that time frame and see if any are still standing. Hopefully, the house has been kept up like this one has. The stone fireplace and pecan bookshelves are supposed to be part of the original house.” I paused and reread the letter. “You must go to the stone hearth flanked by the two brass lights Mother received from her father. Start the fire and look to your right, for hidden in the pecan bookcase is what you seek.”

  My eyes flew up to the fireplace again. An electric current raced through me as I bolted to my feet. “What if the two brass lights have been removed?” I peered closely at the stone and found a filled-in spot. “Mike, look.”

  He walked up to the fireplace and peered at the spot I pointed out. “Yeah, something hung there at one time.”

  The other side of the fireplace had the same plugged-up hole. I grabbed Mike’s arms. “What if…?”

  He appeared as enthralled as I was. “What does it say again?”

  “Start a fire and look to your right.”

  The fire was already going. We stood back and looked to the right. I saw nothing. Is the fire supposed to reveal something? Maybe it was to protect Ayana from being noticed. Or maybe this was just hopeful thinking. The likelihood was slim, but still…

  Mike peered at the bookshelf. “I don’t see anything from the fire.”

  “Me, either.” I remembered Grandpa telling me about hidden compartments. Some of the women who’d been accused of being witches and had been burned in Salem had built hidden compartments in their bookshelves. I pressed against the panels, but nothing happened.

  My pulse sped up when my fingers brushed against an indentation just about the right size for a forefinger. It refused to budge. “Can you see if this moves? It needs a little elbow grease.”

  “Of course.”

  I placed Mike’s hand where I’d felt the groove. “Do you feel it? I think it might slide.”

  “Okay. Stand back.”

  I took a few steps back, and Mike pushed until his muscles bulged. He grunted with the effort before looking back. “I think it moved, but I’m afraid I might be breaking it.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll have it fixed.”

  “Okay. Wait, do I need to play any warning bells? I’m trying to figure out when I have to play them to keep you from getting hurt.”

  I laughed and gave him a playful punch in the arm. “Show me your muscles already.” Oh geez, that sounded sexual. I groaned in frustration. “Please don’t let me continue—bring a gag the next time.” A gag? Double oh geez, I sounded like some BDSM girl with a gag fetish. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

  “You’re a breath of fresh air, Sydney Burch.”

  “With a case of Tourette’s… at least around you.”

  He cupped my cheek and gently caressed my face with his thumb, eliciting a shiver from me. “It’s worth it, considering how you make me feel. I think you need to know that because I don’t want you avoiding me when you’re nervous. I like you just the way you are.”

  Oh my. “That would have been a good time to ring your bell. Thank you. Most people don’t like my lack of filter.”

  “I’m not most people.”

  Now, I’m an egg on a hot sidewalk, frying from extreme heat.

  He grinned, and in an attempt to save my dignity, I added, “You may not be able to take me in public. Seriously, I start babbling about sizzling bacon, ball gags, and night sticks.” I gasped and put my hand over my mouth. Ducking my head, I said, “Ignore that. Just ignore all that.”

  “Consider it ignored.” He winked. “I’ll bring a foghorn in case you get a case of Tourette’s and there are children around.”

  “I think that sounds like a good idea.” Once again, we were both grinning like buffoons. I waved my right hand in the air. “Show me those manly muscles.”

  With another husky laugh, Mike went to the shelf and pulled with all his might. I heard a crack, and then another, louder one, and my heart plummeted.
I was wrong about the bookcase.

  Mike shook his head. “Shit, what are the odds?”

  “What?”

  Mike stepped away to reveal a handful of papers tied together with twine.

  “Mike, this is… we found…”

  On the front page, the initials QS were written in an elegant script. On the next page it read, The Diary of Quinn.

  I gasped. “Mike, what are the chances? Q! That’s Q!”

  “I don’t know. This is amazing. Truly amazing.”

  I grabbed his hand and led him back to the couch. Maggie Maye jumped on the couch next to him, and I began to read.

  July 8, 1883

  I cannot seem to shake the feeling of unrest that has shadowed me for the past month. My father is due to arrive home from his trip abroad today. His coldness to me before he left still haunts my dreams. His eyes looked upon me with what I can only describe as hate. Now I know why, for I learned the truth last night.

  After receiving a letter from James Hathorne during my mother’s dinner party, I requested Timothy Hues escort me outside so that I might take in some fresh air. I implored him to accompany me on a visit to Mr. and Mrs. James Hathorne immediately. Once we arrived, we found Mr. Hathorne in the company of Jonathon Young, a man to whom I must confess I am very much attracted. It was then that Mr. Hathorne forewarned me that he had news that would change my life and perhaps could lead me to danger. His words piqued my interest greatly while leaving me shaken. He told me that for nearly eighteen years, he kept his silence and he could no longer allow himself to do it. His daughter was in danger. You see, this was a great surprise to me, as Mr. Hathorne has but two sons. Or so I thought. He also has a daughter.

  I am that daughter.

  This should have come as a shock to me, but strangely, it did not. His announcement answered many questions that I had been asking myself. It explains my mother’s longing gazes toward James Hathorne. My father’s hatred toward me. And the unease I have been feeling the last few days.

  Mr. Hathorne believes the man assumed to be my father, Captain Robert Soloman, has somehow discovered that my mother and James, my true father, have been having a secret love affair since before my birth. Mr. Hathorne believes his entire family is in grave danger, for he has stumbled upon something so disturbing, he called for Jonathon’s father to come to Salem at once in an effort to help him. Sadly, Jonathon’s mother has turned ill and his father is aiding her. Therefore, Jonathon has agreed to help protect me. They will not tell me what it is they are protecting me from. I only know it has something to do with the trials and a secret society.