He made two fists. “The hell I can’t.”

“My neck doesn’t exist. If you touch me, you’ll get nothing but thin air. I’m not real.”

His brow furrowed, and he was instantly alert, on edge. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” She wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “How’s David? Obviously you’ve seen him.”

“He should be released in the morning. He’s worried about you.”

“How nice.” She smiled bitterly. “And Mac Stevens? How’s he?”

“I don’t know. He’s supposed to be in touch with my father in San Diego; so far he hasn’t.”

“Think Barky busted his leg for him?”

“I don’t know what in hell to think.”

“But you believe in Mac enough to deceive me.”

Jeremy looked at her without guilt. “And you’re so pristine? You believed in your uncle enough to give him a fortune in jewels.”

“Correction.” She slammed down her tea glass. “Believe—not believed. Present tense. And I’d give him the jewels all over again if he asked me to.”

“Hell, Ashley, does he have to kill someone before you’ll accept the fact that, at the very least, he has some difficult questions to answer? I’ve known you just a few days and lied to you out of concern for your safety and the safety of a good friend of mine—and you’re ready to damn me to hell and back. Your precious Barky’s probably been lying to you for years.”

She didn’t want to hear the truth in his words. “You lied to me because you believe in MacGregor Stevens just as blindly as I believe in Bartholomew Wakefield. And who the hell says Stevens hasn’t been deceiving you for years?”

The anger went out of Jeremy—she could see the muscles in his face relax and his eyes warm with honesty and sympathy. Now, unexpectedly, she wished the anger had stayed. She didn’t want him to care. She didn’t want his pity. He was getting too close.

“Mac has been deceiving me,” he said simply.

“Then he has his own deep dark secrets, hmm? Is he an ex-jewel thief?”

“No, he’s an ex-American intelligence officer. He was in Eastern Europe in the mid-fifties.”

Ashley felt the shock snapping her head up sharply; it hurt. “Oh, wonderful. Terrific. Fabulous. I’ve been chasing jewel thieves the past few days while you’ve been chasing spies. Why tell me? No. Let me get carted off by the KGB or something and have me put in irons and have my fingernails torn off by some sadistic creep. How dare you not tell me?”

“I doubt this is a professional case,” Jeremy said with equanimity. “It must be a personal thing between Mac and your uncle—”

“Barky’s a farmer. He’s not a spy.” She couldn’t listen to any more and started past him, just to get away, to think, to digest. A spy. Good God.

But Jeremy grabbed her in the doorway and spun her around. “What happened here today, Ashley?” His look was intense; she felt his breath warm on her face. “What did you learn—”