Frisky Business (18 page)

Like
sands
through
the
hourglass…

They’d gotten the ink long after their mother died, but before April had come into their lives. Before everything went to hell and—

“Nice screw.” Bethany held it up, turning it from side to side as though admiring the threads. “Speaking of screws, is Marley going to be ordering anything from the Pure Romance catalog?”

“We weren’t speaking of screws,” he said, grabbing it back from her and tucking it in his pocket. “On the list of conversation topics brothers and sisters should discuss, screws don’t even make the top one hundred.”

“Party pooper.”

“Based on the parties you host, I’m okay with that.”

Bethany grinned, the smugness in her expression an indication she knew damn well he wasn’t really annoyed. That was the problem with siblings, Will mused. They know you better than anyone has a right to.

“Right,” Bethany said. “So which stuff did Marley seem to like best in the catalog?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course you would. I know you, Will. There’s no way you could resist the urge to use full-color glossy photos of sex toys as a seduction tool. Let me guess—you made your move somewhere between the g-spot vibrators and the anal beads?”

“I’m going to pretend my sister didn’t just say the words
anal
beads
to me.”

“G-spot it is,” Bethany said, reaching out to catch the next screw as it fell. “Aunt Nancy spent thirty minutes last night trying to lecture the partygoers on the history of Native American phallic devices. She’s seriously obsessed with those stupid figurines.”

“How is that new?”

“Don’t you think she’s gotten worse since she donated them?”

Will shrugged. “Maybe.” He hesitated, thinking about the text he’d seen last night on Marley’s phone. What if the figurines weren’t real? Aunt Nancy had pinned all her hopes on leaving them as her legacy. If something went wrong—

Bethany nudged him with her toe. “For the record, the sexual tension between you and Marley last night was so thick I could use it to bludgeon someone to death.”

“This from a woman who was too intoxicated to stand upright.”

“Please. I could have been deaf, blind, drunk, and standing on my head with my knee in my armpit and I still would have picked up on the vibes. Speaking of vibes, if Marley wants to order anything—”

“If Marley wants anything, she’ll call you herself.”

“If Marley wants what?”

Will jumped at the sound of her voice, dropping the last screw from the plaque. He watched it bounce across the slate floor, then spin in a lazy circle near the toe of Marley’s high-heeled shoe. He stared for a moment—not at the screw, but at the glorious expanse of leg stretching from the curve of her ankle all the way to the bottom of her toned thigh where it disappeared under her skirt and—

“Need this screw?” she asked.

“What?”

Marley rolled her eyes and bent down to pick it up. Will caught a glimpse down the front of her blouse and looked away, only to catch sight of Bethany laughing behind her hand. He frowned at his sister and she straightened up, making a visible effort to be an adult.

Bethany drew her hand back and cleared her throat. “We were just talking about last night’s party,” she said to Marley. “If you want anything from the Pure Romance catalog, give me a shout. The consultant asked me to have all the orders in by tomorrow evening, but we can always submit orders late if you need more time.”

“Thank you,” Marley said, glancing at Will with a bemused expression. “I did see a few things that caught my interest. Do you know if most of the products come with batteries?”

“Everything comes with batteries,” she said, grinning at Will. “So to speak.”

Will didn’t want to meet Marley’s eyes, so he looked down at the bench and began to smooth the wood around the edges of the screw holes. Then he stopped, thinking
wood
and
screw
holes
weren’t the words he wanted pulsing around in his brain at the moment.

“I’ll take a look at the order form on my lunch break and fill it in,” Marley said. “So to speak.”

“Christ, you two,” Will said, shoving the screwdriver in his back pocket so he wouldn’t be tempted to gouge out his own eyes. “You’ve known each other four days and you’re already sharing tasteless innuendos and sex toy orders?”

Bethany pretended to look thoughtful. “You think that’s better for day five?”

“Day two always seems like the right time for me,” Marley said. “That way you know right off the bat if you’re going to spend the duration of the friendship apologizing for offending someone.”

“I like how you think,” Bethany said, then turned to Will. “You know, if we were men, you wouldn’t think twice about the fact that we’re bonding over crude humor.”

“If you were men, you wouldn’t be my sister, and this wouldn’t be quite so weird,” he said.

“So does Pure Romance take credit cards?” Marley asked, and Will looked back at her, pleased to be distracted from the conversation with his sister. “Because I’ve got this great new wallet, and I’m betting there’s a card or two I could use.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out an oblong leather wallet marked with two grungy strips of duct tape. Will tried not to let the surprise show on his face as she smiled at him.

“I believe this belongs to you?” she said.

He reached out to take it, deliberately letting his fingers linger an extra moment so he could savor the electric tingle he felt when he touched her. “Thanks. I didn’t even notice I’d lost it.”

“Spoken like a man who never has to think twice about money,” Bethany said, and Will shot her a dirty look.

“Weren’t you leaving?” he asked.

“Actually, no. I kinda want to hear how Marley ended up with your wallet.”

Marley laughed. “Nothing terribly illicit, I’m afraid,” she said, lying so effortlessly it made Will’s gut ache. “You must have taken it out of your pocket in the garage when you were working on my bike rack?”

“I’m going to have to remember that,” Bethany said. “‘Working-on-my-bike-rack’ is an excellent euphemism.”

Will gave her another look, and Bethany laughed. “Okay, okay… that’s my cue to leave. Marley, shoot me a message anytime about the order. Will, call me later about dinner at Aunt Nancy’s?”

“Sure.”

Bethany wandered off, leaving Will alone with Marley. Well, alone in the Cheez Whiz lobby with several dozen visitors and several birds of prey within a hundred-foot radius.

“Thanks for bringing the wallet by,” he said.

“Actually, I didn’t realize I’d see you here today. I just put it in my purse so my father wouldn’t be tempted to go through it in an effort to assess your net worth.”

“If he’s judging my net worth by the contents of my wallet, I’m valued at two dollars, a Blockbuster card, and a coupon for a free Egg McMuffin.”

“And no condom,” she said. “I think we got off easy there.”

“We didn’t get off at all, if I remember right.” Will grinned. “Then again, things got fuzzy after your fiancé showed up.”

“
Ex
-fiancé,” Marley pointed out. She frowned. “Have you noticed how frequently you and I end up being defined by our exes?”

“How do you mean?”

Marley shrugged. “Everyone wants to refer to Curtis as my fiancé instead of my e
x
-fiancé—including him, I guess. And my father. And the nature of your divorce means you’re pretty much resigned to spending the rest of your life attending family gatherings with your ex-wife.”

“There’s a pleasant thought.”

Marley shrugged. “Doesn’t make it easy for either of us to break free from past relationships and patterns.”

“Is this conversation going to get less depressing at some point?”

Marley smiled. “How about if I tell you my father was the one who found your wallet?”

“Wonderful.”

“Incidentally, he’s not a fan of me dating the delivery guy.”

“We’re not dating, and I’m not a delivery guy. You’ve pleased your father already.”

“All in a day’s work.” Marley rubbed her lips together. It was probably just an effort to evenly distribute her lipstick, but Will couldn’t stop thinking about the way her lips had felt pressed against his. About the feel of them trailing across his neck when she—

“So I have a date on Friday with the guy from the bike shop,” she blurted.

Will frowned. “The Plaid Neanderthal?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat, not sure why he was surprised. He knew the second the bike guy had asked for her phone number and address that he was plotting to do more than paperwork. Will didn’t like to think about that.

“I also have a date with a plumber,” Marley said. “Wednesday after work.”

Will nodded, trying to keep his expression impassive. “Don’t let him sell you any faulty ballcocks.”

“What?”

“The ballcock is the mechanism in your toilet tank that keeps water levels normal. If you’d like, I can also make jokes about hardness leakage, discharge heads, and cockhole covers. All plumbing terms that sound filthy but aren’t.”

“Maybe I should write these down so I have something to talk about on my date.”

“Maybe you should stick with discussing sports teams and favorite restaurants,” Will said. “Just be sure you check his wallet first to be sure he doesn’t have more than twenty bucks to his name.”

Marley sighed. “I’m not the first woman to take money into account when dating someone, Will.”

“Of course not,” he said. “Shallow hang-ups about money are a universal issue.”

She nodded at the screwdriver in his hand. “Says the guy who just pried his own name off a bench so he can keep up the pretense of not having much.”

“Touché,” Will said, flipping it into the air and catching it before tucking it into his back pocket. “For the record, this is no one’s business but mine. It has nothing to do with getting dates or choosing someone to knock boots with.”

“And that makes it better?”

“It makes it
different
,” Will said, not entirely sure what point he was trying to make. He only knew he didn’t want Marley to leave. Not yet. “When it comes to relationships, though, money is always the hang-up.”

“You think?”

Will shrugged. “Why did your fiancé—
ex
-fiancé—stay behind in Portland instead of moving here with you?”

“His job.”

“Money. A bigger paycheck and a real estate transaction. It all comes down to that.”

“Okay, wise guy,” Marley said, folding her arms over her chest. “How do we attribute your divorce to money? And don’t make a crude lesbian joke using a
coin
purse
euphemism.”

He laughed, surprising himself with the sudden burst of it. “Why Marley, I had no idea you had such hidden depths of depraved humor.”

“There’s plenty more you don’t know about me,” she said, turning away.

He waited until she was out of earshot to mutter the words under his breath.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Marley took two steps into her office and instantly fought the urge to take four steps back out the door.

“Marley!”

Susan’s voice was urgent, probably because she recognized Marley’s urge to flee. The CHSWS director stood and beamed stiffly at Marley, catching her by the arm in what was either a familiar greeting or a means of escape prevention.

“Just the woman we’ve been waiting for,” Susan gushed. “You’ve met Nancy Thomas-Smith?”

“We just met last night,” Marley said, pasting her own donor relations smile in place and taking a step toward the older woman. “So wonderful to see you again, Ms. Thomas-Smith.”

Aunt Nancy nodded from her seat in the corner of Marley’s office. “I trust you enjoyed the penis party?”

Marley didn’t let her smile falter, despite Susan’s grimace. “I only regret I couldn’t stay more than three minutes,” Marley said. “I hope you had a lovely time though.”

“Hmph,” the old woman grunted. “Let’s cut to the chase. I’m a renowned sex therapist with three bestselling books. The fact that these figurines are from my personal collection makes them particularly valuable and highly sought-after by museums around the country. I can’t wait around forever for the appraisal, and we need to start moving forward with plans for the traveling exhibit.”

“Of course,” Marley said. “We’re eager as well.”

“We’ve already had a number of inquiries from other museums expressing interest in the figurines if they’re part of a large traveling exhibit,” Susan said. “If we opt for one-month installments, we should be able to book at least eleven shows a year at different locations. If we go with the forty-thousand-dollar fee we discussed, that’s quite a revenue source for the Cascade Historical Society and Wildlife Sanctuary.”

“Cheez Whiz,” Marley murmured.

“What’s that, dear?” Susan asked.

“Nothing.” Marley cleared her throat. “We’re as excited as you are about the exhibit, Ms. Thomas-Smith. And I know you’d like to see things move forward. But we can’t proceed without the formal appraisal.”

“And that’s scheduled for next Thursday, Marley?” Susan looked hopeful.

“Yes, with one of the foremost experts in the country.”

“Hmph,” Nancy said. “I’m traveling to New York next Tuesday to meet with my accountant and my attorney. Getting my affairs in order, you understand. Isn’t there some way we can hurry this along?”

Susan folded her hands in her lap and turned to Marley. “Marley, you mentioned a few days ago that you have a cousin with some expertise in the area who might be able to give an informal assessment of the value of the figurines. Did she happen to give you any sort of impression of what the pieces are worth?”

Marley clenched her fingers. “Nothing concrete. I really think if we just wait until the formal appraisal is complete, we’ll be able to offer a very accurate picture of what the figurines are worth.”

Or
not
worth,
Marley thought grimly.

Aunt Nancy sighed. “In that case, I’d like some photographs, please.”

“Of course,” Susan said. “Just let me put on some lipstick and—”

“Not photographs of
you,”
Nancy snapped. “Photos of the art.”

“Certainly,” Marley said. “If you’d like, I can have a photographer out here this afternoon to capture some professional images that should meet your need for tax or insurance purposes.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Nancy said. “I’ve got an iPhone. Doesn’t need to be anything snazzy.”

“But for tax purposes—”

“This is just for personal use,” Nancy interrupted. “The figurines have been in my family for more than fifty years, and they’re extremely valuable. I entrusted them to the Cascade Historical Society and Wildlife Sanctuary with the understanding they’d become part of a popular exhibit, but if that’s not going to happen expediently—”

“It’s going to happen,” Marley said, standing up so fast her chair nearly tipped. “It’s going to happen very soon, and we’re just as excited about it as you are. We just need to make sure the appraisal is done properly.”

“Marley, why don’t we escort Ms. Thomas-Smith to the safe and let her take the photographs she needs,” Susan said. “It’s the least we can do in light of such a generous and valuable donation.”

“Of course,” Marley said. “If you’d like to come with me, I’d be happy to take you to the safe for a look at your… um… at the
figurines
.”

She reached down to offer the older woman a hand up, but Nancy ignored her, hefting herself out of the seat and onto her feet. Susan stood too, beaming at Marley with a look that said,
Please
don’t blow this.

“Follow me,” Marley said cheerfully, reaching into her purse for the keys to the safe. She led the little procession through the administrative lobby, down a hall, and into the back room. She fumbled with the keys as Susan and Nancy stood to one side waiting.

“We’ve all been very excited about the prospect of featuring your figurines as part of a traveling exhibit,” Susan prattled. “We’ve been researching, and while there are many exhibits featuring Native American artifacts, and a number of exhibits featuring Old West erotic artifacts like items from brothels, no one has ever created an exhibit of the sort we’ll be able to display with your pieces, Ms. Thomas-Smith.”

“Absolutely,” Marley said, crossing her fingers that this whole thing didn’t blow up in their faces once the appraisal came through. “Our tentative plans would be to keep the figurines on the road for eleven months of the year, and with the revenue generated from the traveling exhibit, create a new wing here at CHSWS devoted to the arts, with a special emphasis on Native American artifacts.”

“The Nancy Thomas-Smith Wing,” Susan supplied.

“Nancy
Ursula
Thomas-Smith,” Nancy added. “The Nancy Ursula Thomas-Smith Arts Center.”

Marley bit her lip. “We may want to think twice about making that into an acronym.”

Nancy frowned at her. “What’s that, dear?”

“Nothing,” Susan said quickly. “Marley, do you know how to work the lock?”

“Absolutely,” she said, inserting the key into the safe and turning it. “I was just here the other day showing the pieces to my cousin.”

She twisted the handle and popped open the door, allowing light to flood into the small, enclosed space.

For a moment, no one said anything. Marley stood blinking in the cool air, her eyes adjusting to the dimness of the safe’s interior and what she saw inside.

Or rather, what she
didn’t
see.

It was Susan who spoke first, her stiff smile making her words tight and difficult to understand. “Marley? Did you… um, did you relocate the figurines?”

Marley blinked. She had a brief, panicky thought that if she just closed the door and opened it again, the figurines would reappear.
Poof!
Just like a magic trick.

But magic wasn’t going to save her here. Where the hell were the figurines? Her brain clawed for some reasonable explanation.

She turned to face the other two women, trying to keep her panic from showing. She looked at Susan, who pressed her lips together. Then Susan turned to Nancy and smiled.

“I just remembered!” Susan said brightly. “We sent the figurines out to be professionally cleaned. Weren’t the cleaners picking them up this morning, Marley?”

Marley blinked, too stunned to respond.
Oh, Christ. Not again.

Nancy looked at her, and Marley forced her expression into a stiff smile. Forced her mouth to form the words.

“Of course!” Marley said. “The cleaning service. It completely slipped my mind.”

Susan nodded and put a hand on Nancy’s arm. “I’m so sorry we forgot to inform you, but I’m sure you’ll agree it’s important to have the figurines looking as polished and perfect as possible for the appraisal.”

Nancy frowned. “I suppose.”

“It’s a crucial part of the process,” Marley babbled, wishing like hell she could just crawl into the safe and hide for the rest of the day. Or the rest of the year, depending on how this whole thing shook out.

The old woman was still nodding as she stared into the safe’s interior. Marley watched, wondering if she was suspicious, annoyed, or completely convinced of their story.

Not
again, not again,
Marley’s brain chanted, throbbing to the rhythm of the words.

Marley looked at Susan, whose expression was blessedly impassable. Marley turned to Nancy. “I’ll call the cleaning service and find out when we’ll get the figurines back. And after that, we’ll make sure you have some lovely, professional-caliber photographs to cherish for personal use, or to utilize for all your accounting purposes.”

“Absolutely,” Susan agreed, nodding so hard Marley thought the woman’s head might fall off.

Nancy shrugged. “Fine. I suppose that will do.”

“I’m sure the figurines will look just
lovely
once they’re polished, don’t you agree?” Marley said.

“Lovely,” Nancy repeated, her tone suggesting the faintest hint of sarcasm. “I have an appointment to get to across town. I’m meeting with a group at the college to discuss my research on foot size and penile length. Would one of you please walk me back to the lobby now?”

“Allow me,” Susan said, taking the older woman’s arm. “Marley will just stay here to lock up, and I’ll show you the way.”

“It was wonderful seeing you again, Ms. Thomas-Smith,” Marley called, projecting an enthusiasm she didn’t really feel. “I look forward to working with you again very soon.”

“Likewise,” Nancy called, and headed out the door with Susan trotting beside her like a nervous mother.

For a moment, Marley just stood there in the storage room listening to the tick of her watch. When she started to feel dizzy, she realized she was holding her breath.

She let it out in a whoosh, wondering what the hell was going on. Where the hell were the figurines? Who could have moved them, and why?

Marley was still standing with the safe gaping open behind her and her arms hanging limply at her sides when Susan scurried back in.

“Oh, God, Marley. What’s going on here?”

“I have no idea.” She bit her lip. “I take it the figurines aren’t really being cleaned?”

“I was just covering.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

Not
the
only
thing.

Marley looked back into the safe once more, in case the figurines had magically appeared.

Still empty.

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Marley said slowly. “I brought my cousin, Kayley, here last Friday to give me her gut impression about the value of the pieces. That was around three in the afternoon. I haven’t been in here since.”

Susan bit her lip and nodded. “I came in yesterday afternoon to look at the new piece Bethany Barclay brought us the other day.”

The tension in Marley’s shoulders eased just the tiniest bit.

I
wasn’t the last one in here. It could be much worse.

“So you have a key, and I have a key. Who else has one?”

“The head of security. Have you met Jimmy yet?”

Marley shook her head, and Susan continued.

“We’ll have to introduce you soon. Besides the three of us, there’s the checkout copy that’s kept at the front desk in Administration.”

“Checkout copy?”

“Yes. It’s for the curators. They sometimes need access, so they can sign out a key and leave their badges as collateral. We’ve been doing it that way for years.”

“Can we look at the checkout sheet?”

Susan nodded, and Marley closed the door on the safe, careful to lock it tightly.

For
all
the
good
it
does.

Both of them took off at a quick clip, but Susan put her hand on Marley’s arm to stop her. “Wait—slow down.”

“Why?” Marley asked.

“We don’t want to alarm anyone. Right now, we’re the only two who have any idea the figurines are missing.”

“You don’t think Nancy suspects?”

Susan shook her head. “I think she bought the story about the cleaning. So until we know what’s going on, let’s try to keep this quiet.”

Marley hesitated, then nodded. “You’re the boss.”

Susan turned and strode out the door. Marley followed right behind her, concentrating on keeping her expression neutral. She wished she could come up with some casual line of conversation to initiate with Susan so they looked more like two colleagues out for a stroll than two panicked women who’d just lost a valuable donation.

“Did you hear one of the porcupines is pregnant?” Susan blurted as they passed the grant writer’s desk.

“What?” Marley asked.

“Pokey,” Susan said. “She’s pregnant again.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize she was in a relationship.”

“Yes, well, she and Spike have had three pups in the last four years, so they’ve been very good breeders for our program.”

“She’s done such a nice job keeping her figure.” Marley swallowed as her mind scurried into dark corners in search of ways to keep the casual conversation going. “I read recently that baby porcupines are known as porcupettes. They’re born with soft quills that get hard within hours and…”

Marley stopped talking, partly because she was thinking about Will, and partly because they’d reached the front desk.

“Thank God, Anna must be in the restroom,” Susan murmured. “Look casual and smile. I’ll just take a quick glance at the sign-out sheet.”

Marley nodded and leaned against the counter, projecting her best look of innocence. There were plenty of employees milling about, but no reason for anyone to be suspicious about two upper-level administrators consulting a notebook at the front desk.

“See anything?” Marley asked under her breath as the older woman flipped open a green notebook.

Susan ran a finger down the page. “Darin Temple was in the storage room yesterday at four p.m. to grab an antique papoose for the display in the west hall, but that would have been a different safe.”

“Does the key ring give him access to all of them?”