“Samantha!”
Damn. I turned and looked back at Bob. Now what?
He grinned. “Your shoes.” He held up my platform shoes.
Bob and I finished the interview in half an hour. He was new in town and worked a lot of hours as a fireman, so it was hard for him to find time to date. He had seen the flyer for the open house that I’d left at Smash Coffee and thought it would be fun to join the dating service. He signed the forms for Gabe to do a background check.
Blaine was taking some still shots for our albums while I ate my salad in my office. I’d had exactly two bites, when Angel walked in. She’d kept her black pants on but had changed her long-sleeved shirt for a light green see-through shirt over a darker green lacy camisole that came from her lingerie collection. “Where’s Blaine?”
I put down my fork. “He’s taking pictures of my newest client. A fireman!” I was so excited about Fireman Bob. “And you know what? He seems normal.”
Angel dropped into the chair across from my desk. “Cute?”
I reached down into my desk drawer and used two hands to heft out my purse. “Why?” Bob was going to be my most popular single male, as long as there really wasn’t anything wrong with him. I wondered if Gabe would dig up something horrible when he did the background check.
“Because if he’s cute, he’ll attract a lot of women to Heart Mates.”
A flash of shame fluttered over me. Angel was looking out for me, not trying to steal my fireman. “That’s what I’m counting on. Of course, he did look up my skirt, so maybe he’s not quite as normal as I thought.”
Angel’s green eyes glittered in the overhead lighting and she leaned forward. “How did that happen?”
I reached into my purse and got out the blue velvet sex-toy kit while telling her about the bathroom incident. Then I set my purse in my drawer and held up the sex-toy kit. “Then he picked this up off the floor and handed it to me. He thought it was a makeup kit or something. Can you imagine—what if he had opened it! What would he have thought I was doing in the bathroom?”
Angel burst out laughing. She leaned over my desk and snatched a couple of mandarin oranges from my salad and said, “Speaking of the sex-toy kit, guess who has left me three messages?”
I set the sex-toy kit down and picked up my Diet Coke. “Who?” I took a drink of my soda.
“Mitch St. Claire.”
Putting the can down, I grinned. “Ah, the boy with the toys.”
Angel grinned back. “He wants to take me to dinner to talk about those toys. He said that he’s very impressed with my business skills. He’s planning on calling me later today to find out a good time to pick me up for dinner.”
“Rather confident, isn’t he?” I watched her. “Are you interested in Mitch?” Though Mitch was older than Angel and I, he had that smooth Richard Gere thing going for him. Confidence, the look of money, a certain . . . I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It was the way he seemed to know that I was shocked when he pitched his sex-toy kit idea to Angel. The way he managed to turn it back on me so that my uneasiness seemed silly. So did that mean he was good at putting people at ease? I didn’t know him well enough to be sure.
Angel reached over to snag another mandarin orange from my salad. “I’m more interested in Tempt-an-Angel. I might be willing to go to dinner to discuss business.”
Uh-huh. It had been a while since Angel dated. “What about sex?” Was that what Mitch was thinking? Maybe his ability to put people at ease was a way to manipulate a woman into sex. He’d be in for a rude awakening if he tried that kind of thing on Angel. She was not a woman easily manipulated.
“Hmm.” Angel swallowed the orange slice. “Well, I do like to see a preview before I make a commitment.” She reached for the sex-toy kit, pulled it toward her and grinned. “Like the sex toys; I’m viewing those before buying. You think he’ll get naked and let me take a look?”
I laughed, trying to picture Mitch-the-smooth-guy handling that request. Then the searing image of a very naked Gabe handling me rose in my brain. Which then made me wonder what he was doing with his new assistant. I shoved it away. “You just be careful.”
“Yes, Mom.” She untied the white satin ribbon on the blue velvet box.
I rolled my eyes. “Let me put it another way. Did he leave a phone number for you to return his calls?”
She looked up at me. “Suspicious, aren’t you? Nope, all that is supposed to be in here,” she looked down at the sex-toy kit, then back up at me, “remember?”
Damn, she had me. I knew what was the matter with me. “You’re right. It’s just that you really scared me, Angel. I thought you’d been kidnapped.” My stomach clenched around the few bites of salad that I had eaten. It wasn’t Mitch that made me uneasy, it was leftover fear of something bad happening to Angel. In the hours we thought she’d been kidnapped, I had been devastated. “You are my best friend.”
Angel pulled off the ribbon and unconsciously wrapped it around one hand. Forgetting the sex-toy kit for a minute, she said, “I never meant to scare you like that. Hell, you wouldn’t have been that scared if dumbass Hugh hadn’t trashed my place.”
I watched her wrap and unwrap the creamy ribbon around her hand. “Are you sure it was Hugh?” Gabe didn’t seem convinced, but I didn’t tell Angel that.
She nodded yes. “It was Hugh. It’s the way he is. Everything that goes wrong in his life is my fault. I told him it was his fault. He’s the one that got that lab technician to change the results on his sperm test. The only reason I found out was that she botched the job and was fired. All I did was tell the FBI agent doing the background check the truth.”
She was right. Hugh might do something like trash her house. But still. . . “That knife in the couch, did that seem like Hugh?”
Angel dropped her shoulders, releasing some of her tension. “That is just like Hugh. Remember there was some blood on a dish towel, right? Hugh probably got a knife from my kitchen, went into my office and started slicing up my lingerie merchandise and cut himself. In anger, he jammed the knife into the couch.”
“I can see that.” I took a drink of my soda, thinking. “But I didn’t see any cuts on Hugh.”
She yanked the ribbon tight around her hand. “Good, maybe he cut off his own dick.”
I laughed. “He was walking fine, at least when Gabe wasn’t slamming him into the walls.”
“Now there’s something I’m sorry I missed seeing.”
I studied Angel. I remembered how pissed she seemed to be at Hugh at the casino on Friday night. “Angel, is there something more going on between you and Hugh?”
She raised her eyebrows. “He trashed my house and destroyed most of my lingerie.”
True, but I felt like I was missing something. “But, Angel, you were upset Friday night at the casino, before he trashed your house.” When Linda had mentioned seeing Hugh to Angel at the casino, Angel got upset.
“Because he’s an ass.” She unwound the ribbon from around her hand and tossed it into the trash can at the end of my desk. “Right now, I need to focus on Tempt-an-Angel. Recoup some losses from Hugh’s stunt. So let’s take a look at that sex-toy kit. That might be a good moneymaker.” She reached over to the velvet box in front of her.
Something wasn’t right there. I’d never known Angel to worry about money. She had invested well in the stock market after her divorce from Hugh. I started to say something about it when a scream erupted from the reception area.
Angel and I both jumped up and ran out of my office.
Zoë stood in the doorway of Heart Mates and pointed at Bob. “You must be R. V. Logan! I knew it! I knew Samantha knew him!”
Bob stood by Blaine’s desk, his hazel eyes open wide and his mouth gaping at Zoë. “Do you mean me?” He thumped himself in the chest.
Zoë fast-walked in the door to Blaine’s desk. She was toting a shopping bag with her. “Of course, you. You look exactly like I knew you would. Very masculine.”
I glanced up at Blaine, who was behind his desk holding the clipboard of forms that Bob had filled out and the digital camera he had used to take pictures. Meeting my gaze, his thick lips twitched and he shrugged his big shoulders up into what little neck he had.
Message received—female criers and lunatics were my department. Zoë didn’t strike me as the type to cry, but she had real lunatic possibilities.
I rushed from my door to get between Zoë and Bob. “Zoë, this gentleman here is one of our newest clients. He’s a fireman, not a writer.”
“A writer?” Bob looked at Zoë and laughed. “What kind of writer did you think I was?”
Zoë turned her dark brown eyes on Bob. “A romance writer, of course.” She tugged down her white men’s shirt over her deep purple yoga pants, and shifted the handle of the shopping bag from her right hand to her left.
“Zoë,” I said, looking down at the fairly large shopping bag. I noticed that the yoga pants ended just below Zoë’s knees, showing about two inches of rock-solid bare calf. She had on thick white socks and slip-on leather sandals. I almost lost my train of thought. Oh, right . . . saving Bob from Zoë. I looked back up at her face. “Is there something I can help you with?”
She ignored me and zeroed in on Bob. “How do I know you’re not R. V. Logan?”
“Want me to throw Samantha over my shoulder to prove I’m a fireman?” He grinned, looked around the reception area, and spotted Angel. His grin froze. “Or how about that gorgeous redhead?”
For a second, the room went silent.
Then Angel started walking toward Bob. “Cool.” She flashed her bright grin. “I’m Angel. Go ahead, fireman, throw me over your shoulder.” She stopped in front of him.
Fireman Bob glanced past Angel to me, and shrugged.
Then he leaned down, scooping Angel up over his shoulder. He anchored her there with a hand on the back of her thigh. “Any particular place you’d like me to carry you, Angel?”
I glared at Bob. “Put her down!” Damn it, I could feel the sparks between the two of them. Bob was supposed to be my ringer for Heart Mates. A cute, personable guy. OK, maybe throwing women over his shoulder was a little forward, but Angel had practically dared him.
Bob grinned and set Angel back to her feet.
Angel turned and looked at Zoë. “Yep, he’s a fireman.”
Maybe Gabe was right. I should work for him. It had to be better than dealing with lunatics.
And the sex really rocked.
6
“Y
ou people are strange,” Zoë announced. She apparently believed Angel that Bob was a fireman.
Like Angel would know that just from the way Bob picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. My office was full of strange people.
Zoë turned to me and held out the bag she was carrying. “This is for you.”
I reached for the blue bag. “What’s this?” I opened it and looked inside. It was filled with tissue paper and . . . “Rose petals?” I reached in and started to pull items out of the rose petals and tissue paper. The first was a bottle of Zinfandel wine. I set that on Blaine’s desk. Next came out a plastic tray with a see-through cover. Inside I could see a half dozen chocolate-covered strawberries. I added that to the wine. Fishing around in the bag, I found the latest R. V. Logan novel and a scented candle. “Zoë, what’s all this?”
She shrugged, and her thick dark hair danced around her shoulders. “Thought you’d enjoy the book with a little wine, strawberries, and a candle. I have the same thing for R. V. Logan.” She shifted her weight, but her gaze stayed riveted on me. “He can sign the copy of his book for me. I need his address, Samantha.”
Bob crossed his arms over his chest. “All this for a man who writes romances?”
Zoë looked at him. “Samantha won’t give me his address and phone number. He’s my heart mate.”
Both his eyebrows hit his hairline. “So you are bribing her?”
Zoë pursed her lips. “I am simply demonstrating how important romance is. How important it is that I find R. V. Logan.” Zoë turned her attention back to me. “Samantha, didn’t you read that card I left for you? The hero in R. V. Logan’s book never gave up looking for the kidnapped heroine. I know R. V. wouldn’t want me to give up looking for him.”
Omigod, the woman was a bona fide wacko job. I had to end this. “Angel, can you take Zoë into my office?” I turned and looked at my newest client. “Bob, did Blaine get all your still shots? Is there anything else we can do for you today?”
He laughed. “This has been the most fun I’ve had since I moved here. I’ll be back for your open house. I wouldn’t miss it. See ya.” He sauntered out the door.
I turned to Blaine. “If you laugh, I will hit you over the head with this bottle of wine.” I picked up the Zinfandel to prove my point.
He forced an innocent look over his face. “Who, me?”
I slammed the bottle down and turned away to stalk into my office. Zoë sat in the chair Angel had been in earlier. “So what’s in that box?” She pointed to the blue velvet box on my desk. “That’s the second time I’ve seen it.”
Angel stood at the end of my desk and grinned. “It’s my secret box, Zoë. Sam was holding it for me while I was away on my secret mission.”
I bit back a groan. I really had to get Angel a boyfriend to spend some of her mischievous energy on. “She’s teasing you, Zoë. That box is a gift for Angel from a business associate.” I leaned past Zoë and snatched up the sex-toy kit. Then I gave Angel a warning look as I passed her to sit in my chair, where I quickly leaned down and stuck the box in my bottom drawer. With the sex-toy kit safely stored away, I sat up and prepared to deal with the stalker-fan who wouldn’t go away. “Zoë, I thought I made it clear to you that I don’t know where R. V. Logan lives. The publisher sends me the books to review.”
She shook her head. “You know where he lives. You couldn’t write such intimate reviews if you didn’t know R. V. Logan. I left that card here for you to make you understand how R. V. Logan must be looking for me. When his hero’s lady was kidnapped, he never let the hero give up looking for her.”
“Makes perfect sense to me, Sam,” Angel said.
I glanced up at her. “You told a man to throw you over his shoulder; you don’t get a vote.” I turned to Zoë. “I’d like to help you, Zoë.” I decided to try to play into her fantasy to get rid of her. Make her think I was on her side. Anything to make her go away. “The problem is that I really don’t know where R. V. Logan lives. In fact, until you told me, I didn’t know R. V. Logan was a man.”
Liar.
I knew. Detective Vance had swept into town and caught the case of a murder of a friend of mine. Vance’s attitude toward me had been so hostile that I was suspicious. But it was Grandpa who’d figured it out with his Internet sleuthing. He’d somehow tracked down that R. V. Logan was really Detective Logan Reed Vance. Fortunately for Vance, few people had Grandpa’s Internet skills, or vast connections through his Triple M Magicians group. Bringing myself back to the current problem, I said, “Zoë, why don’t you try writing R. V. Logan a letter?”
“A letter? I didn’t bring you truffles, wine, chocolate-covered strawberries, and a candle to get advice on writing a letter!”
A phone rang. Unfortunately, it wasn’t mine. It was Angel’s cell phone. She pulled it out of her purse and left my office to take the call.
I unfolded my hands and lifted them in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know what else to tell you.” Other than maybe to get some therapy. Sheesh.
“Sam,” Angel stuck her head in the door. “That was the cleaners at my house. They are almost done and want me to take a look. And I have a delivery of new merchandise coming. I have to run. We’ll reschedule our
meeting
later.”
I nodded and Angel left. I turned back to Zoë.
She stood up and reached into a pocket of her pants. She pulled out a framed photo of some kind. She set that down on my desk. “You show R. V. Logan that picture. He’ll know I’m his heart mate then.” She walked out.
I stared at the photo. It was a five-by-seven in a heavy crystal frame with hand painted red hearts. The picture was of Zoë, and she—
“Oh boy.”
Zoë had on a tight, bright yellow bodysuit, and she was in a yoga position with her legs behind her head.
“Who’s that?”
I jumped and dropped the picture. “Grandpa!” I put my hand over my heart to keep it from bursting out of my chest.
Grandpa crinkled up his faded blue eyes and laughed. “I still got it, Sammy.”
“Yes, you do.” I knew Grandpa meant his ability to move around unnoticed. Magicians needed to know how and when to command attention and when to deflect attention from themselves. I leaned back in my chair. “What are you doing here? Are the boys OK?”
“The boys are fine. I was out this way and thought I’d stop by to let you know I’ll pick the boys up from school.” He lifted up a blue bag. “Blaine said this is yours?”
Blaine must have put all that stuff Zoë brought me back in the bag. “R. V. Logan has a very determined, possibly lunatic, fan. She’s trying to bribe me into telling her his address.”
Grandpa’s craggy face widened in a grin. “I doubt Vance took that news very well.”
I laughed. “Vance doesn’t take any news from me well. And he doesn’t exactly trust me to keep his secret.”
He glanced into the bag. “You sure this fan isn’t trying to seduce you?”
“Grandpa!” I tried to look stern, but it was kind of funny.
“Hey, I saw Angel in the parking lot. She said you two are getting together tonight to look at something you got from the casino. What’s up?”
Ah. His love of gossip surfaced. I turned to reach into my drawer and pulled out the velvet box. “Actually, Angel and I haven’t seen it yet, either. Every time we try, something gets in the way. Could you take this home for me? Maybe stick it in the cupboard in my bathroom with that stuff in the bag?” I figured the boys wouldn’t be looking around in there.
Grandpa held the bag open so I could slide it in. “What’s in there, Sam?”
I looked up at him. “Something that Angel is considering adding to her lingerie line. I think it’s some kind of lotions or something.” OK, I lied. But he was my grandpa! No way was I going to say “sex toys” to my grandpa! I didn’t want him to know what was in that velvet box. And that made me consider the fact that he was also a magician and a damn good one. I narrowed my gaze to what I hoped looked like a stern warning. “There’s a seal on that box, Grandpa. Angel and I will know if you open it.”
He closed the bag with his blue-veined fingers. “Now you’re hurting my feelings, Sammy. I wouldn’t snoop around your stuff.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “See you at home.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, Grandpa.”
He stopped at my cubicle door and looked back at me. He used his free hand to hike up his polyester pants, which were sliding down his bony hips. “What?”
“If you don’t snoop, what do you call all that sneaking around the Internet you do? Breaking into hospital records to find out what procedures your friends are having done? Hmm?” Grandpa held fast to his magician’s secrets, but gossip was a huge commodity in the senior-citizen community. He did his part by snooping around on the Internet and finding out all kinds of titillating information. He also helped me crack a few cases when I worked under Gabe’s PI license.
He gave up on his sagging pants to fix his stare on me. His aging, milky blue eyes sharpened into a piercing and commanding blue. “Research, Sammy. I call it research.” Then he melted out of my office.
“Research, ha!” I yelled out over the cubicle wall. “Don’t you do any research on Angel’s box, Grandpa!”
Crap. I couldn’t believe I’d just given my grandpa a sample sex-toy kit, then practically dared him to open it.
I spent the rest of the workday dodging phone calls from Linda Simpkins about volunteering for the Harvest Festival and getting ready for the Heart Mates open house in two days. Blaine was putting together a videotape presentation, while I worked with the winery and caterer we planned to use.
I was proud of the deal I’d cut with a Temecula winery. They were giving me a deep discount on their wines for adding them in on my Temecula Wine Tasting Date Package, and for promoting them on the night of the open house.
I was developing some real business savvy! Feeling pretty good, I locked up Heart Mates for the evening and waved good-bye to Blaine as he folded himself into his old Hyundai. Then I slid into my T-bird.
It took me about fifteen minutes to drive across town, past the lake, and get home. By the time I turned onto the dirt road that led up to our house, my lack of sleep the night before and worry about Angel caught up to me. I was dead tired.
Sex with Gabe might have sapped some of my energy, too.
I got out of the car and went into the house.
TJ was stretched out on the couch reading a book. Good Lord, he looked so big. Joel lay on his stomach playing a video game. “Hey, guys. Do you have your homework done?”
“Mine’s done except for this reading.” TJ didn’t even look up from his paperback book.
Joel barely glanced up at me. “I didn’t have any homework. What’s for dinner?”
I tried to remember the last time I had gone to the grocery store. “Let me change clothes and I’ll see what we have.”
Both boys groaned. I looked around, “Where’s Grandpa?”
“In his room. He’s been on the phone.” This time, TJ looked up from his book. “Can we go to the skate park tonight? A bunch of us from school are going.”
I fell back on the automatic questions from the official mom list that are designed to trip up any nefarious plots hatched by kids. “Who else from school is going?”
TJ pulled a piece of paper out of the back of the book he was reading and held it out. “There’s going to be a skateboard pro there tonight doing tricks. Lots of kids will be there.”
Walking over, I took the paper and read it. “That’s right, I saw this in the newspaper.” I doubted the boys had gotten the newspaper in on any plots. This was probably OK.
Joel turned off the video game. “Can we go?”
“All right. I’ll drop you off on my way to Angel’s house and pick you up when I’m done.” Which meant I had a half hour to get some dinner on. “Set the table and feed Ali,” I said, and hurried down the hallway to my bedroom.
Grandpa’s door was closed. I wasn’t sure if he was on the phone or his old laptop. The computer in the dining room was newer and much better, but sometimes he used his laptop for privacy.
In my bedroom, I opened my closet and thought about Gabe. His warning about Angel made me anxious.
Or was it Gabe out at a motel with his new assistant that made me anxious? Annoyed at myself, I slid off my skirt and discovered a whopper of a bruise on my left thigh. Just looking at it hurt. I’d hit the edge of the counter in the bathroom at Heart Mates toward the top of my thigh. Or more specifically, just below the area of my saddlebag pouch of fat.
I had to start exercising more! And stop hurting myself. I pulled out a pair of jeans and winced as I dragged them over my bruised thigh. For lack of time, I left the white sheer top on and slid my bare feet into a pair of white sandals.
Heading out of my bedroom toward the kitchen, I thought about dinner. I was supposed to meet Angel at her house around seven. She had to run a few errands and pick up groceries.
Ali met me at the fridge. As soon as I opened the door to the side by side, she stuck her nose into the shelf where I kept the beer and barked.