Tease Me (5 page)

Tucker refused to consider why this news should elate him so much. “Then who are Ida
and Irma?”

“Two of Lillian’s clients. They’re identical twins. They’re also eighty-two.”

Tucker ran a mental replay then chuckled as he
thought over their unknowing “who’s on first” conversation. “You had me going there,
you know.”

She laughed too. “It wasn’t intentional. It never occurred to me that you’d assume—”

He lifted a hand. “My fault. So,” he said, seemingly unable to wipe the happy grin
from his face, “they set you up, huh?”

He was pleased when she smiled at his teasing. “Sucker born every minute. I should
know.” She’d said it jokingly, but the edge of vulnerability made Tucker curious.

He filed his questions away for the time being. Right now there were more urgent things
to find out, such as what her name was. “So how do you know the twins? Great-niece
or great-granddaughter or something?”

“Oh, they’re customers of mine. Well, my aunt Minerva’s, really.”

“You mean you’re Minerva’s niece? From the café next door?”

Her smile faded a bit as she studied his face. “One and the same. I’m Madelaine Cooper,
but most people call me Lainey.” She stuck out her hand, then snatched it back to
catch the towel. “Sorry.” Her cheeks pinkened again, but she gamely continued. “And
despite the Armbruster sisters’ shenanigans, I’m pleased to meet you, Tucker. Really.
And don’t worry, I won’t say anything about … Well, what I mean is, I won’t complain.
After all,” she continued with a nervous laugh, “it felt wonderful. I mean, you have
great hands and— Oh, boy.” She groaned and dipped her chin.

Amused and more intrigued than he thought he could be, he watched as she took a deep
breath for composure and lifted her head again.

“I don’t want to jeopardize your job,” she said with admirable calm. “You really are
good at this.”

Tucker thought he heard a repressed sigh on that last part, but his mind was still
on the fact that this was Minerva’s niece and one of the few people who knew the mystery
man. “I appreciate that,” he said, almost absently, relieved that at least part of
his brain was still on his real purpose for being there.

“Well,” she said when the silence spun out. “I think I’ve had about all my system
can take for one day.”

Her gaze caught his suddenly. He didn’t comment, but the brief flash of vulnerability
in her eyes did bring him out of his musings. She was a fascinating mix of bold, beautiful,
and shy. “Me too,” he said with a grin that invited her to share the humor in the
situation.

He wished he could share the entire story with her, was compelled to, anyway, despite
Lillian’s misgivings. If he did have to go through with this ridiculous charade, it
would be good to have at least one person—besides Lillian—to be truthful with.

Given her obvious sense of humor, he was certain Lainey would find the whole thing
as absurd as he did. It also occurred to him that telling her about it could clear
up the entire matter. She might be able to explain away the entire situation. But
something—his sixth sense or whatever you want to call it—stopped him at the last
moment.

He could tell himself it was loyalty to Lillian and her concerns about handling her
suspicions a certain way, but something else stopped him too.

He wanted to get to know Lainey a little better before he decided how to pursue the
situation.

“Well,” she said, “I’m sure you’re busy. I’ll let you get on with your other appointments.”

“Actually, you’re the only one I had today,” he said, not knowing if it was true,
but he could remedy that. “I don’t suppose you’re free for lunch? Or maybe a quick
cup of coffee?”

His offer obviously surprised her. Apparently she wasn’t as affected by the masseur
as he was by his new client. His ego took the blow in stride. After all, it was information
he was really after.

Yeah
,
okay
, his little voice shot back.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” she said. “We’re catering a luncheon later today, and I’ve got
a ton of things to do. I really did this as a favor to the twins.” Her eyes brightened
a bit as a hint of her bolder side flashed through again in a short grin. “The things
I endure for friendship.”

Tucker smiled. “Mind if I stop in later for a cup of coffee?”

She shrugged, then grabbed at her drape again. “We never turn away a paying customer.”

Tucker wondered at the wariness that had crept into her smile. It might be the natural
reaction to a professional making a personal play for a client. He supposed it probably
was unethical, if he was truly a professional—which he wasn’t. He realized he was
drawing a fine line, but it
was
a line.

“Lillian says Minerva’s pot pie isn’t to be missed. Maybe I’ll stop in for lunch instead.”

Looking relieved, she said, “I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.” She slid carefully
from the table, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpeting a few feet from him.
The top of her head came to about his chin, forcing her to look up as she spoke.

“I’ll be out on buying runs, so I’ll miss you, but Aunt Minnie prides herself on her
repeat customers, so we’ll probably bump into each other again.”

“I don’t plan on being here very long, so I’d really like to—”

“I really have to get going,” she said apologetically. She backed toward the door.
“Thanks again.” She twisted the knob and slipped out before he could do anything to
prevent it.

Tucker stood there for several seconds, mulling over his disappointment, dealing with
the fact that it had little to do with solving Lillian’s mystery and a whole lot to
do with one Madalaine Cooper. Then another snippet of Lillian’s initial conversation
sprang to mind. He snapped his fingers. “Today’s Saturday.” He grinned. Lillian wouldn’t
be too happy about losing her masseur on a busy Saturday, but he hoped she’d be mollified
when he told her he was “on the case.”

“Big Sam’s fish market, here I come.”

THREE

“Six dollars a pound, Sam? Robbery.” Lainey looked at the selection of orange roughy
again. Maybe she’d go with the flounder. Aunt Minnie wouldn’t be thrilled.

“Five-ninety-nine,” Sam corrected, then raised his hands at her arched brow. “But
for you I can maybe make a special. Five-fifty.”

Lainey held his open gaze for several seconds, knowing Sam expected no less. Like
her, he was a transplant from Philly. When Sam had heard from Minerva that her niece
hailed from his hometown, he’d developed a special fondness for Lainey. Of course,
Sam showed his fondness in his own unique way.

“Still robbery, Sam. I could go down to Fred’s on Fiftieth and—”

“That crook wouldn’t know a shark steak from a salmon. You don’t buy from him.” He
looked appropriately outraged, but Lainey didn’t miss the gleam in his eye. He appreciated
a good haggler. “You buy from me, or I’ll tell your dear sweet aunt Minerva that her
niece is harassing the café’s best supplier.”

Lainey folded her arms, thoroughly enjoying herself. “Who do you think sent me here?”

Sam chuckled. “You learned from the best too. Don’t you ever forget it.”

“Think she’d let me?” Lainey countered with a wry grin. “Now, about these underfed
roughy you’re trying to pawn off on me.”

Eyes twinkling, he wiped his hands on his ever-present apron. “Five dollars even.
But you take some flounder too. Tell your aunt they’ll be great stuffed with shrimp.”

“Done. I’ll need four pounds of tiger shrimp. And don’t try to sneak any of those
small ones in there.”

Shaking his head, Sam sighed as if mightily offended and turned toward the back room.
“Be right back. Stay out of trouble for a minute.”

Lainey rolled her eyes, smiling at his retreating form. Her parents had passed away
while she was in her midtwenties, leaving Conrad and his mother as her only connection
to her hometown. While Lainey didn’t miss the people she’d left behind in Philly,
she did miss the city itself. The smells, the sounds, its color and vibrancy. Sam
had given some of that back to her. For that alone she’d have paid the five-ninety-nine.
Of course, she’d die before telling him that.

The sound of slow handclaps directly behind her caused her to turn around. “Tucker.”

He acknowledged her less-than-enthusiastic greeting with a quick nod. “Madelaine.
The way you handled old Sam there, I’d swear you were Lillian’s niece, not Minerva’s.”

“Lainey,” she corrected automatically, not entirely surprised to see him. She’d had
a strange feeling that he’d
pop up at some point. Still, she was surprised she hadn’t felt his presence behind
her. It was the intensity of that very thing that had kept her looking over her shoulder
all afternoon.

She deliberately pushed aside any and all memories of her intoxicating morning spent
at the all-too-willing mercy of those talented hands. Goose bumps of remembered pleasure
raced over her skin, anyway. She hoped he didn’t notice. In a life marked by impulsive
choices, Tucker Morgan was another bad decision waiting to be made. But not this time.
Not by her.

She gave him what she hoped was a confident but not-too-friendly smile. “So what brings
you to Sam’s?”

“You.”

She’d never heard so much intensity packed into one tiny little word. Her heart skipped
a beat without permission. She should have expected the direct approach from him,
but she silently acknowledged that no amount of advance preparation would have squelched
her instant reaction. Conrad and Charlie had been proof enough that her impulses should
be curbed, not encouraged. After Charlie, she’d vowed to work on thinking things through
calmly and rationally instead of jumping right in. She’d slipped a bit this morning,
but she was firmly back on the wagon now.

She curved her mouth into a dry smile. “Well, that’s direct. Or didn’t you have a
convenient excuse?”

“Do I need one?” he countered, his own smile making it clear that he was enjoying
himself immensely.

So was she. She felt her wagon start to rock a little.
Hurry up
,
Sam
, she silently implored,
I’m treading dangerous waters out here
. “I suppose not. As they say”—she
gestured blithely to the interior of Sam’s shop—“it’s a free market.”

His gaze was unwavering. “But you’d feel better if I made one up, wouldn’t you?”

Beating Tucker at his own game was a foolhardy strategy at best.

“Probably,” she said. “I suppose it would be an easier world if people were more direct
about what they wanted. In my experience, it’s usually quite the opposite, and though
I am trying to improve, I’m still occasionally guilty of being one of them. But in
the spirit of self-improvement, I’ll make another stab at it right now. Tell me, Mr.
Morgan, exactly what is it you want of me?”

He clapped his hands slowly. “Not a bad start. And you sounded oh-so-proper too. Nicely
done.”

Lainey found herself trapped by his gaze. His eyes were making it crystal clear that
he hadn’t forgotten one single second of their less-than-proper encounter that morning.
But the man was a professional, she argued. Certainly her very average body and less
than sparkling wit hadn’t driven him to the boundaries of his control … as his hands
had driven her?

She snapped her gaze away from his and turned around, suddenly fascinated by the display
of tiger shrimp and not feeling the least twinge of guilt over the pretense. Being
straightforward wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. At least not where Tucker Morgan
was concerned.

She glanced over her shoulder. “My mother-in-law would be thrilled to hear that anyone
thought me proper. Despite exhaustive attempts to mold me, she swore that ‘proper’
was an adjective that would never be used in conjunction with Madelaine Marie Maitland.”

Instead of the expected chuckle, his gaze sharpened
further. She swore that she could feel the heightened alertness in the air. Fish fumes,
she told herself. Toxic fish fumes.

“I thought you said you weren’t married.”

“I’m not,” she said, returning her attention to the black-and-gray-striped shellfish.
“Divorced. I’m plain old Lainey Cooper again.”

“There is nothing remotely plain about you. And you’re molded just fine, if you ask
me. Your former mother-in-law must not be too fine a judge of character.”

A vision of the horrified expression that would have marred Agatha Maitland’s scrupulously
maintained and dignified manner upon hearing that personal indictment had Lainey stifling
a laugh. Dismissing the compliment, but intrigued by the absolute certainty of his
pronouncement, she abandoned her fascination with the shrimp. She straightened and
turned around. “And I suppose you are?”

“It was more or less my business.”

“Knowing a person’s character determines how you go about massaging them, Mr. Morgan?”

“Tucker. And I wasn’t talking about massages. I told you, you were my first client.
Ever. It’s a, uh, recent career move for me.”