Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(27)

Tonia's choice of metaphors was an uncomfortable one. "Tonia—"

"It broke our hearts, it was so romantic," Tonia barged on. "But it wasn't meant to be. He's just not good enough for you, Erin."

Erin shook her head. None of her friends or family knew that she'd visited Connor every day that he'd lain in a coma, but there had been no way to hide it from the nursing staff.

Her friendship with Tonia had begun one day when Tonia had found Erin crying in the ladies' room. Tonia had given her a tissue and a hug, and led her down to the cafe outside for coffee. For the first time ever, Erin had let it all pour out, and confessed her unrequited love, her longing and heartache. Her terror that Connor might never wake up.

"Sore subject, isn't it?" Tonia's taunting tone dragged her back to the present. "Truth hurts, don't it?"

Erin breathed through the urge to snarl until it was controllable. "Let's not talk about Connor anymore," she said evenly. "I turned down his offer. I'm going on my trip. I told him to leave me alone. I did all the right things, so there's no reason for you to scold me like this."

Tonia looked abashed. "You're so right. I am such a bitch sometimes. Forgive me?" She fluttered her long lashes.

Erin smiled reluctantly. "Of course."

"OK. Good. Let's move on to your wardrobe. If you take a cab to the station instead of a city bus, you will buy yourself just enough time to come home and raid my wardrobe before you go. Consider it an investment. If you land this guy, you will spend the rest of your days in the lap of luxury, shopping with your good friend Tonia. I have got the perfect suit and blouse for you. Wine-red, short skirt, and a tantalizing hint of that kick-ass cleavage you never take advantage of."

Erin smiled. "Thanks, but the zillionaire will just have to cope with the real me. I've just got to be true to my inner dowdiness."

Tonia made a frustrated sound. "Well, then, I'll be on my way. Help me get that cat of yours into the pet carrier, OK?"

"Remember her ear drops," Erin said anxiously. "It's four drops of vitamins in the wet food, plus one pill crushed up and sprinkled over her dry food, twice a day. She's already eaten this morning's pill."

Tonia rolled her eyes. "Next time you pick up a pet from the pound, try to pick a healthy one, would you?"

"But the healthy ones have a better chance of finding homes," Erin protested. "The sickly ones are doomed. I've got a soft spot for the underdog. Or undercat, as the case may be. Come on, Edna, let's go."

Edna hid under the bed, hissing and spitting. Erin finally managed to push her into the pet carrier and latch the door.

Tonia made a face. "I've got you now, my pretty, and I'm taking you to my lair where I'll make cat soup out of you." She gave Erin a hug. "Don't rule out what our mothers always told us, chica. It's as easy to fall in love with a rich man as an unemployed scumbag. 'Bye!"

Erin closed the door with a sigh. Tonia was the only one who knew about her feelings for Connor, but sometimes it seemed like Tonia enjoyed exploiting that tender spot. As if it gave her special power, to be the only one who knew. She poked at it, just to make Erin jump.

She reminded herself that Tonia was a good friend. It was she who had found her this apartment, it was she who had helped Erin move. Her other friends had drifted away when things got so grim, but Tonia had been right there, like a rock.

In spite of her strange personality quirks.



Connor eased the Cadillac into a parking space on the airport skyway level, and glanced at his watch. Erin's plane wasn't due to land for twenty minutes. It would take ten minutes or so for her to disembark and make her way to the luggage claim, where Mueller's limo driver was supposed to meet her.

Over his dead body.

His eyes fell on the sheaf of info that Davy had gleaned on Claude Mueller, scattered across the passenger seat. He'd memorized every fact. He should be relieved that Erin's mystery client checked out, but the ghost hand was squeezing his throat even harder. His instincts had never played him false before—but he'd never been in such a f*cked-up state before, either. Even Sean and Davy thought he was going off the deep end. That made him feel so alone.

But he couldn't let it go. Not if Erin was at stake.

The only plan he'd come up with so far was to spirit her away from the airport without making a scene. A neat trick, considering that the old you-are-in-mortal-danger-and-only-I-can-save-you line had fallen pretty flat last night. He'd never been that smooth with the ladies. That was Sean's special talent, not his.

Thinking about Sean made him glance self-consciously into the rearview mirror. He'd made an effort today, but it hadn't done a whole lot of good. He'd put on the nicest shirt he could find, a rough-weave beige designer thing, a Christmas gift from the ever-hopeful Sean. The shirt still had creases from the packaging, and his chinos were crumpled from their sojourn at the bottom of the clean laundry basket, but that was too bad. There were some lengths to which he would not go, and ironing was one of them.

But he'd shaved. He'd combed his unruly blond mane, forced it to lie as smoothly as possible in a thick ponytail. His hair had always had a mind of its own. He should probably just chop it all off. Problem with cutting your hair, though, was that then you had to keep on cutting it. All the time. Big pain in the ass.