Free Faking It (d-2) by Jennifer Crusie Page B

“Unless you want everybody in this place to know you’re a burglar, keep your voice down.” She glared at him over his hand, and he said in a more conversational tone, “No kicking. No biting. And don’t have an asthma attack.”
    She brought her knee up and he rolled to avoid her, and caught sight of Dorcas through the open door, watching them, as unperturbed as Ariadne. Tilda shoved him away and herself off the bed with one motion, and stood out of arm’s reach, looking frantic. “How did you get here? How did you find me? What are you
doing here
?”
    “Renting a room?” Davy said.
    “No you’re not,” she said and shot out the door. He went after her, but she was fast on her feet, and Ariadne got in his way, so he didn’t catch her until they were on the ground floor.
    “
This
,” Betty said, as she fell through a door with him right behind her, “is the guy from last night.”
    Three people stared at him: Gwen, a pretty little blonde who looked a lot like Nadine, and a tall blond man who had clearly decided to dislike him on sight. Behind them, Steve the dog eyed him warily in front of a huge pink-and-orange bubbler jukebox playing some woman singing “I’m into Something Good.”
    “Hi,” Davy said, not sure what to do next.
    “You rented the room to a
thief
,” Betty said to Gwen.
    “Actually, I’m not a thief,” Davy said.
    “Oh.” Gwen nodded. “I knew there was something wrong with you.”
    “You’re the burglar in the closet.” The little blonde dimpled at him.
    “The guy who stole the wrong painting?” the tall guy said, hostile as hell.
    “The burglar thing was a one-time deal,” Davy told the little blonde.
    “Evict him,” Betty said to Gwen. “Refund his rent.”
    “We could use him,” the blonde said, and Davy thought,
Whatever you want, honey
.
    Then the other shoe dropped. “Wrong painting?” Davy said.
    The little blonde held out her hand. “I’m Eve.”
    I’m Adam
. “I’m Davy.” He took her hand. “
Very
pleased to meet you.”
    “I’m Nadine’s mama,” she went on, more wholesome than he’d thought possible in a woman over twenty. “And Vilma’s sister.”
    “And this is Andrew, Nadine’s father,” Gwen said pointedly.
    Damn
, Davy thought and let go of Eve’s hand. He nodded to Andrew who did not nod back, which made sense since he’d been ogling Andrew’s wife.
    “And you know Tilda,” Gwen said.
    “Tilda?” Davy said, turning back to Betty, starting to grin. “As in Matilda?”
    “Yes,” she said, her voice like ice.
    Davy shook his head. “And you got mad when I called you Betty.”
    “I didn’t get mad,” she began. “I-”
    “How important is it that we get the painting back?” Andrew said to Tilda, and Tilda abandoned Davy in a nanosecond to focus on him.
    “Very important,” Tilda said. “But I can do it.”
    Andrew shook his head at her. “No. You stay out of there. Let this guy do it.”
    “Gee, thanks,” Davy said. “But no.”
    “No?” Eve looked crushed. “Can’t you wait to go to Australia?”
    “What?” Davy said.
    “Nadine said you were on your way-”
    “Oh.” Davy shook his head. “No, it’s not Australia.”
    It would have been fun to comfort Eve, but Andrew already didn’t like him. “I stole you a painting already, remember?” Davy said to Tilda. “Everything you asked for, square board, night sky, stars…”
    “It wasn’t your fault,” Gwen said, her voice fair. “They do look-”
    “I said a
city scene
,” Tilda said. “The one you stole had cows in it.” Her tone was not warm.
    “Be nice, Tilda,” Eve said. “Describe the one you want him to steal and send him after it, and all our problems will be over.”
    “Honey,” Davy said to Eve, “if I could steal another painting, I would, just for you, but I can’t get back in there.”
    “Why not?” Tilda said, and he transferred his attention back to her.
    “Because there may be people in the house,” he said. “And I