he expect, a spanking or time-out in his room? At any rate, this little episode might well extinguish any looks-based romantic notions possibly forming in her subconscious.
They navigated the slick stone steps, which someone had dutifully sprinkled with what looked like kitty litter to combat the ice. She admired the front door with its beveled panes and oak frame. “Your house is beautiful.”
He scrubbed his shoes over the rough mat. “It’s my parents’ place, but I live here, too. And you might as well call me Ben. I’ll use Danielle, if you don’t mind. My calling you ‘Sweet’ could get awkward.”
Dani nearly laughed. Yeah, she’d bet Mama wouldn’t cotton to that worth a damn. “It’s Dani for short.”
He walked right in without knocking, which was appropriate, she reminded herself, since he lived here. A grown man who lived with his parents. Déjà vu all over again.
“Benjamin!” a thready voice cried from the room on the right. A wispy woman of around sixty appeared in the doorway, arms outstretched. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she carried a wadded tissue in her hand. “We’ve just heard what happened at the bank. They interrupted programming on television with the news. Are you all right, son?”
“Fine, Mother. Nothing to worry about.” He embraced the woman, who had her eyes squeezed shut, tears running down her cheeks as she hugged him hard.
Her voice rose nearly an octave. “What’s happened to you? I can tell when something’s happened.” The woman grew even shakier, trembling like a frightened bird. She seemed to notice Dani for the first time then. “Who is this?”
Dani froze the smile on her face, determined to keep it there even if things got ugly. If life went true to form, the agent in the house was about to take the heat for involving favorite son in an upcoming op.
Ben stepped back, carefully taking his mother’s hand in his. “This is Danielle Sweet. She’s a government agent and just happened to be at the bank today. Danielle, my mother, Martha Michaels.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dani said with a small nod as she fought the bizarre urge to curtsy. She didn’t figure the woman would go for a handshake at this point. Maybe at any point.
Ben cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “Let’s go sit down and I’ll tell you everything. Where’s Dad?”
“Here,” answered the tall, silver-haired gentleman striding down the central hall. “I was in the den listening to the latest about the robbery. You’ll have to give us the straight of it, though. Those news people tend to exaggerate.”
Not this time, she’d bet, thought Dani. If Ben Michaels did have the straight of it, things were much worse than the media realized.
After her introduction to his father, they went into the living room. Dani took a seat on the Victorian sofa at Ben’s indication. He waited until his parents were seated in the matching chairs that faced her, then sat beside her.
In a carefully modulated voice, he gave a seriously watered-down version of what had happened at the bank, leaving out any reference to his struggle for the weapon or the fact that he shot the perp. “Danielle very skillfully brought down the man who robbed us,” he said finally, and gave her a beatific smile. “We’re very lucky she was there today.”
“You saved my boy?” Mr. Michaels asked, giving her a quizzical look. His expression said he didn’t buy that scenario for a hot second. The mother was looking at her with something approaching horror, but whether it was on Dani’s account or Ben’s, it was hard to judge.
Dani glanced at Ben for direction. He just looked at her blankly. “Well…it’s all in a day’s work, sir.” There. She gave a little shrug.
Ben looked away and studied the window for a minute, watching it snow. Then he dropped the bomb. “I need to pack a few things. Danielle and I are going to the Caymans to make some inquiries about the stolen funds.”
“No!” His mother shot up out of her chair, exhibiting sudden agility for one who appeared so frail. “You are not getting yourself mixed up in this. It could be dangerous!” Her face crumpled a little and her voice rose and broke. “Benji, you…promised me.”
Benji? Oh, boy, bet you love that nickname, Dani thought, biting her lip and trying not to smile.
Ben was there in a heartbeat, his arms around the woman, one hand patting the head she had nestled on his chest. “The danger’s past, Mother. The man is dead now. No threat at all.”
“There could be others working with him,” his mother argued, her words muffled against his chest.
So Mama wasn’t clueless. Dani wondered if Mrs. Michaels had noticed the few specks of blood on her son’s dress shirt. Dutiful son would have changed that shirt if he had seen them himself. Maybe he was a little more distracted than he appeared.
He set his mother away from him, still holding her shoulders gently. “You shouldn’t worry, Mom. I’ll be perfectly safe and be back home in a few days.”
Dani started to speak up to tell his parents that he wouldn’t encounter any risk. Michaels had said the money was gone from the Cayman bank now. The only purpose for going there was to get information about the person who had shown up to collect part of it and transfer the rest. Interviewing bank employees presented no danger. But she decided to keep her mouth shut and let Ben handle his folks.
His father took over the support role and gestured with a jerk of his head for Ben to go and pack. Hesitantly, Ben did, leaving Dani to witness the older couple’s silent struggle and the mother’s tears.
“I think I’ll just go wait in the car,” Dani muttered, and headed for the door. “Nice to have met you both.”
“Wait, don’t do that,” Mr. Michaels said. “You’ll freeze out there. Why don’t you go to the kitchen and have some coffee?” He pointed the way. “Just make yourself at home.”
Dani gladly left the room, following her nose to the coffee. Adrenaline rushes ate up calories faster than any workout. She was starving and hoped Ben’s offer of a quick meal would hold up, even if she had to watch him placate his mom’s fears while they ate.
She found a mug and helped herself to the brew. Taking Mr. Michaels at his word, she made herself right at home and raided the cookie jar. She munched rather contentedly as she leaned against the counter and waited.
Within ten minutes Ben reappeared with a travel bag. He had changed out of his suit into cords, a brown pullover and boots.
“How L.L. Bean,” she remarked, grinning up at him over her cup. Her hormones revved like a souped-up Harley. Ben Michaels was a hunk, no doubt about it. She raised her mug. “Coffee?”
He wore a steady nonexpression. Great poker face. Great face, period. But unless he wanted you to know what he was thinking, you never would guess.
“Let’s go,” he said.
She was ready, full of the pilfered chocolate-chip cookies and not at all averse to hitting the road. But in spite of his words, Michaels seemed fairly reluctant to travel. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to your parents?”
“I did. It’s snowing harder. If we don’t leave soon, we
