Megan's mate

Her pulse scrambled.

I have the necessary form.

Damn right you do.

For the Keogh. All you need toOh.

The terry cloth parted like water under his clever hands. She gasped, shuddered, melted.

How did you do that?

Come to bed.

He lifted her.

I'll show you.

Just past dawn, Nathaniel strolled down the curve of the terrace steps, his hands in his pockets and a whistle on his lips. Dutch, in a similar pose, descended the opposite curve, both men stopped dead when they met in the center.

They stared, swore.

What are you doing here at this hour?

Dutch demanded.

I could ask you the same question.

I live here, remember?

Nathaniel inclined his head.

You live down there.

He pointed toward the kitchen

level.

I'm taking the air,

Dutch said, after a fumble for inspiration.

Me too.

Dutch flicked a glance toward Megan's terrace. Nathaniel gave Coco's a studying look. Each decided to leave well enough alone.

Well, then. Suppose you want some breakfast.

Nathaniel ran his tongue around his teeth.

I could do with some.

Come on, can't dawdle out here all morning.

Relieved with the solution, they walked down together in perfect agreement.

She overslept. It was a breach in character that had her racing out of her room, still buttoning her blouse. She stopped to peek into Kevin's bedroom, spotted the haphazardly made bed and sighed.

Everyone was up and about, it seemed, but her.

She made a dash toward her office, crossing breakfast with her son off her list of small pleasures for the day.

Oh, dear.

Coco fluttered her hands when Megan nearly mowed her down in the

lobby.

Is something wrong?

No, I'm sorry. I'm just late.

Did you have an appointment?

No.

Megan caught her breath.

I meant I was late for work.

Oh, my, I thought there was a problem. I just this minute left a memo on your desk.

Go ahead in, dear, I don't want to hold you up.

But

Megan found herself addressing Coco's retreating back, so she turned into her office to read the message.

Coco's i.e. of an interoffice memo was something less than professional.

Megan, dear, I hope you slept well. There's fresh coffee in your machine, and I've left you a nice basket of muffins. You really shouldn't skip breakfast. Kevin ate like a young wolf. It's so rewarding to see a boy enjoy his food. He and Nate will be back in a few hours. Don't work too hard.

Love, Coco

P.S. The cards say you have two important questions to answer. One with your heart, one with your head. Isn't that interesting?

Megan blew out a breath, and was reading the memo again when Amanda popped in.

Got a minute?

Sure.

She handed over the paper she held.

Do you think you could interpret this

for me?

Ah, one of Aunt Coco's convoluted messages.

Lips pursed, Amanda studied it.

Well, the coffee and muff ins are easy.

I got that part.

In fact, Megan helped herself to both.

Want some?

No, thanks, she already delivered mine. Kevin ate a good breakfast. I can vouch for that. When I saw him, he was scarfing down French toast, with Nathaniel battling him for the last piece.

Megan bobbled her coffee.

Nathaniel was here for breakfast?

Eating and charming Aunt Coco, while telling Kevin some story about a giant squid.

They'll be back in a few hours,

she continued, tapping the note,

because Kevin

talked Nate into taking him out on th& tour again. It didn't take much talking, she

added with a smile.

And we didn't think you'd mind.

No, of course not.

And the bit about the cards defies interpretation. That's pure Aunt Coco.

Amanda

set the memo down again.

It's spooky, though, just how often she hits the mark.

Been asked any questions lately?

No, nothing in particular.

Amanda thought of what Sloan had related to her about Nathaniel's feelings.

Are

you sure?

Hmmm? Yes. I was thinking about Fergus's book. I suppose it could loosely be considered a question. At least there's one I want to ask you.

Amanda made herself comfortable.

Shoot.

The numbers in the back. I mentioned them before.

She opened a file, handing a

copy of the list to Amanda.

I was wondering if they might be passbook numbers, or safe-deposit boxes, safe combinations. Lot numbers, maybe, on some real estate deal?

She

moved

her shoulders.

I know it's silly to get so hung up on them.

No.

Amanda waved the notion away.

I know just what you mean. I hate it when things don't fit into place. We went through most of the papers from this year when we were looking for clues to find the necklace. I don't recall anything that these figures might connect to, but I can look through the material again.

Let me do it,

Megan said quickly.

I feel like it's my baby.

Glad to. I've got more than enough on my plate, and with the big holiday tomorrow, barely time to clean up. Everything you'd want is in the storeroom under Bianca's tower room. We've got it all boxed according to year and content, but it's still a nasty, time-consuming job.

I live for nasty, time-consuming jobs.