Page 186 of Lorenzo

Chapter Twenty Four

Donna

A couple of weeks later, I pull into Lorenzo’s driveway with Mocha in the passenger seat and a folder of notes on the seat behind us.

I came here to talk about the case.

That is what I remind myself as I grab the folder and climb out of the car.

There have been a few developments over the past several days, enough that I want to go through them with Lorenzo in person instead of over the phone. I have names, dates, a couple of connections I am still trying to sort through, and one lead I think may actually take me somewhere.

Work.

Very straightforward.

Mocha hops out after me and waits while I shut the door.

“You’re here to work too,” I tell him.

He looks toward the house.

“Try to remember that.”

He does not appear particularly concerned.

I walk up the steps and barely get my hand raised before the front door opens.

Lorenzo stands on the other side in dark trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

My carefully assembled professional mindset suffers an immediate setback.

His gaze drops to the folder tucked beneath my arm, then returns to my face.

“Donatella.”

“Conti.”

He steps forward, puts one hand against my waist, and kisses me.

His mouth brushes mine in greeting, warm and familiar, before he takes the folder from beneath my arm with one hand.

“Dinner is ready.”

I blink.

“Hello to you too.”

“I kissed you.”

“That apparently counts as hello now?”

“I believe so, yes,” he says, amused.

He steps back to let me inside.

Mocha moves past him without waiting for an invitation.

“Were you standing there waiting for me?”