Ed felt his face flush as Sam drew closer. “Th-that you’re adaptable, curious, witty. You can be the exact person someone needs you to be.”
“Lucky you,” Sam said. Then, when Ed stood staring like an idiot, he followed with, “For the job.”
“Right! You’re quite the Renaissance man from your credentials.”
“I hope I live up to what you expect of me, Eddie. Can I call you Eddie, or is that too informal?”
Ed could usually read people well, but he didn’t often have them in his home for very long. He must be imagining that Sam was flirting. “I don’t mind.” Although no one ever called him Eddie. “Shall we?” Turning swiftly, he continued toward the dining room and kitchen around the other side of the house.
Sam followed. “This Renaissance man can also cook. Did you want—”
“No need,” Ed broke in. “I order in all my food and don’t eat much. It’d be a waste to have you cook for me. You’re welcome to help yourself to anything in the pantry or fridge, though, and since you’ll be staying over lunchtime, feel free to make requests.”
“I’ll take you up on that.”
They came around to the staircase again and headed up to the parlor, which Ed considered to be the best place in the house to read, since it looked out over the high ceiling down to the foyer. He still had a book resting beside the armchair where he’d been awaiting Sam’s arrival.
“The Tempest?” Sam read the title.
“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep,” Ed recited, and then chuckled bashfully when Sam grinned at him. “I, uhh… like to reread classics between new titles.”
“Impressive library,” Sam said, scanning the bookshelf behind the armchair.
“That’s just for what I’m currently reading or about to start. The rest are in the real library.” Ed motioned for Sam to continue down the hall, enjoying the shock that briefly filled his features.
They passed a bathroom, the office, a guest room, and entered the second guest room that Ed had turned into his library. He’d not only covered every spare inch of wall space with ceiling-high bookshelves, but had placed standing bookshelves in rows like a true library in order to hold everything he owned. He rarely got rid of books and kept adding to his collection.
“Harry Potter next to a first edition of The Canterbury Tales.” Sam sputtered a giddy laugh as he looked around, but then the humor seemed to leave him, and he frowned as he continued scanning.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s no order to any of this. Not by title, author, genre.”
“I was more concerned with getting them on the shelves.”
“Is that how all your organizational attempts pan out?” Sam looked at him with something akin to pity.
“I just don’t like the tedium of it,” Ed defended.
“I meant no offense.” Sam held up a hand and gave a short laugh—hypnotic really, or magical, because it loosened Ed right up again. “Luckily for you, I live for tedious planning. Shall we move to the master bedroom?”
Ed was close to reprimanding Sam for such cheekiness when he realized he meant the tour. “Yes! Last stop.” He moved swiftly once more to prevent Sam from seeing how red his face had become. He’d avoided real interaction with people for so long, he’d forgotten how to act normally.
Or Sam was just that charming.
The master bedroom was large, with its own bathroom, and housed a four-poster bed and matching dresser, along with a shelf for Ed’s cameras—some modern, some antique—but he spent the least of his time in that room. It was mostly only for his safe, set into the wall by the closet.
“You know, people usually put paintings over those,” Sam said.
“I will eventually. I just haven’t decided which one yet. Besides, I wanted you to see it since you’ll be helping me with my finances. It mostly only holds cash and the logins to my offshore accounts on a flash drive. I can’t let you have access to any of that or the safe, but you can see printouts of my holdings once we get to that part.”
“No problem. That’s all I’ll need. Do you only collect cameras and photographs or take your own?”
“I take some. Whenever something beautiful catches my attention.”
Eager to be out of the bedroom given Sam’s effect on him, Ed started to lead them downstairs, but Sam pointed to the pull ladder at the end of the hall.
“That’s to the widow’s walk.”
“May I?”
“Be my guest.”
Sam pulled the string to bring the ladder down. The sun spilled into a little pool at the base, which Ed sidestepped with a simple pivot. Once Sam was almost to the top, he turned back.
“I suppose you can’t join me, huh?”
“Still a little too bright for me. Go ahead.”
Sam nodded and finished the climb. He disappeared for a spell, but then his voice filtered down. “You should bring your telescope up here!”
“I’m not a fan of heights either!” Ed called back. He could never quite get over that sudden feeling of vertigo when he was high up.
Sam returned and carefully replaced the ladder. “No basement?” he asked as they headed to the main level.
“No.” At least, not that Sam needed to know about.
“Are you sure you only need me for two weeks?”
“We can play it by ear,” Ed said, but he had no intention of extending the contract. Any longer would be too risky. “Shall we plan out your first few days?”
“Absolutely. I’m all yours, Eddie.”
Definitely only two weeks.
Definitely no more than two weeks.
Ed wasn’t like the others Sam had conned. Sam considered himself a Robin-Hood-for-hire, targeting rich assholes who had it coming. Granted, he kept all the money for himself, his crew, and his employers, but at least he only stole from bad people.
Until Ed, who didn’t seem to have an ounce of badness in him and had no idea who he’d just let into his home.
Sam Goldman, not Coleman, who was currently scamming him for every cent in his offshore accounts.
“You got a full tour of the house, know exactly where the safe is and what’s in it, and he’s lax on security?”
“I even know the model number to the safe.”
“Then all you have to do is play it cool for two weeks, and we can make a clean getaway.”
“Yep.”
“He probably won’t even realize he’s been robbed for months, with how much he has.”
“Yep.”
“It’ll be the easiest job we’ve ever pulled off.”
“Yeah….”
“You like him, don’t you?”
Sam stared at Mim beside him at the table, his best friend and confidant, practically family, who knew him better than anyone—save maybe Gerry, the other member of their “family,” who knew him even better from sheer force of will and prying.
Mim was tiny, blond, gorgeous, but packed a mean punch when she wanted to. She was playing with a knife, twirling it around her fingers while they talked, the complete opposite of Gerry.