by J. Kenner
Deena stopped dead, grabbing Zoe’s sleeve and pulling her to a halt. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Zoe fought back a burst of laughter. It took a heck of a lot to render Deena speechless.
She remembered fondly exactly what she’d seen during her sneak peek.
Yup . . . a whole heck of a lot.
“The girls are coming back,” Hoop said.
Taylor spun around, the now-familiar warmth spreading through him as he watched Zoe cross back toward them from the far side of lawn. His sportcoat hung on her frame, revealing none of her dress, just her lovely legs, and creating the illusion that there was absolutely nothing else under that coat.
His mouth twitched. Maybe before the night was over, there wouldn’t be.
She was sweet and genuine and beautiful, and maybe she wasn’t as normal as—
“You never did tell me how you and Zoe met,” Tessa said, drawing Taylor out of his thoughts.
“Gee, I wonder why?” Hoop muttered so that only Taylor could hear him.
He shot his friend a stern glance, but Hoop only shrugged.
“Just askin’,” he said.
“Tell me quick before Zoe gets here or else she’ll make you stop,” Tessa said.
Taylor blinked. “Why?” Other than the obvious reason that their relationship was imaginary. But Tessa didn’t know that.
“Because I’m her mother and I’m nosy.”
“No, I mean why will she make you stop?”
“Oh. That.” Tessa scooted over on the bench and patted the space next to her.
Taylor moved toward it, but Hoop beat him there.
“You snooze, you lose,” Hoop said, grinning.
Taylor rolled his eyes.
“Zoe’s always been a private girl,” Tessa said, ignoring their antics. “She likes to keep secrets. Even from her own mother.” Taylor nodded. He’d known Zoe for only a blink in time, and he’d already figured out that she liked being enigmatic. “That’s okay. I’m good at learning secrets. It’s what I do best.”
“That’s right. You’re a detective.”
“Was a detective. Now I’m a private investigator.”
“And a damn good one, too,” Hoop said.
“A private detective,” Tessa said. “Same difference. All that sneaking around.” She looked up at him, her eyes stern. “Do you work undercover?”
“Occasionally.”
She tilted her head, and he had the impression she was studying him, like an art student might look at a Monet, or a math major might look at some particularly puzzling theorem. “Are you undercover now?”
Taylor balked, not exactly sure how to answer that. He was himself, true, but he was playing a role. Still, it was a role he wanted for keeps. “No. What you see is what you get.”
She nodded, apparently satisfied, but her eyes looked a little sad. “Good.”
He took her hand, and she smiled up at him. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Your meeting?”
Taylor frowned. “Excuse me?”
“She wants to know how you and Zoe met,” Hoop interjected. “Keep with the program, man.”
“Right.” He shot Hoop a “thanks for nothing” look. “Thanks,” he said, then started trying to concoct a story. “Well, you see—”
“Taylor was hot on the trail of this kidnapped little girl,” Hoop began.
“How awful,” Tessa said, glancing between Hoop and Taylor.
“Right,” said Hoop. “It was.”
Taylor gaped, then mouthed, Kidnapped?
“Um,” said Hoop, apparently backtracking. “Actually, it would’ve been awful, except it wasn’t really a little girl.”
“It wasn’t?” asked Tessa.
“It wasn’t?” asked Taylor at exactly the same time.
“Nope,” Hoop said, sounding annoyed.
“Oh. Right,” said Taylor, totally clueless, but willing to trust him. Not out of some sense of moral obligation, but just because he didn’t have a better plan. “It wasn’t a little girl.”
Tessa looked from Taylor to Hoop and then back to Taylor again. “Well, then, what was it?”
“Ah . . .” Taylor began. He turned to Hoop. “You tell her.”
“Right. I’ll tell her.” He frowned; then his face cleared. “It was a doll.”
“A doll?” Tessa repeated.
Taylor opened his mouth to parrot her, then shut it tight when Hoop gave him a stern glance.
“Yes, a doll.”
Tessa turned to Taylor, the question clear in her eyes. He shrugged, his smile watery. “Quite a story, huh?”
As soon as Hoop finished this absurd tale, Taylor was going to kill him. So much for trust.
“How or why would a doll be kidnapped? And what on earth does Zoe have to do with it?”
Hoop shifted on the bench and stroked his chin. “Well, that’s the thing, see. One of the kids in Zoe’s school said that her friend was missing. And, uh . . .”
“The school jumped the gun,” added Taylor.
“And they thought the missing friend was a little girl, not a doll?”
Hoop hooked an arm around Tessa’s shoulder and pulled her close. “Exactly.”
Tessa frowned, then squinted at each of them in turn. Hoop caught Taylor’s eye and moved his shoulder in the barest of shrugs. Taylor fought the urge to shake his head and sigh.
“But how does Zoe fit in?” Tessa asked.
“Ah, now we get to the meat.” Hoop held out his arm, indicating Taylor. “Do you want to tell her, or should I?”
Taylor tried out a smile, hoping it didn’t look too queasy. “You go ahead.”
“Well, the police didn’t have a lead—”
“I can imagine,” Tessa said.
“—so they called in a private detective.”
“That would be me,” Taylor said, happy to have recognized his cue.
“He was supposed to meet Zoe when he was interviewing the staff. She knew there wasn’t a kid, but no one would listen to her. So she avoided Taylor, and he had to follow her into the ladies’ room, where she told him about the doll.” Hoop was starting to look a little worried that the story wasn’t ever going to end.
Taylor twirled his hand in the air, hoping to speed Hoop’s bardish efforts along.
“Right. Well, then Taylor figured out who’d taken it, and they got the doll back, and everyone lived happily ever after.” Hoop sucked in a deep breath, let it out, and grinned. “And the rest is history.”
“Was it love at first sight?” Tessa asked. “From the moment you saw her in the bathroom?”
“Absolutely,” Taylor said.
“Mmm-hmmm.” She smoothed her skirt, her eyes full of both amusement and annoyance. “Do you think someday I’ll get to hear the real story?”
Taylor stifled a chuckle and caught Hoop’s eye. Clearly Hoop was trying just as hard not to laugh. They both lost the battle.
“Well, it could’ve happened that way,” Hoop said between chortles.
“It was entertaining, anyway,” Tessa said, with an indulgent smile. “That’s okay. I can wait. Just tell me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“The last part was true, right?”
“Which part?”
“About love at first sight.”
“Definitely,” said Taylor. It was what Tessa wanted to hear. And besides, he had the sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t wholly untrue. Somehow, between the time he’d started his search for Emily Parker and this cocktail party, he’d fallen head over heels in love with Zoe Smith. Was that possible?
“I was young and in love once,” Tessa said dreamily, interrupting his thoughts.
“I’ll bet he was a cop,” Hoop guessed.
Tessa nodded. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“An undercover cop,” Taylor said.
“Right again. I lit up whenever Donis was around. And he would have moved mountains for me.” She l
aughed. “Even more than I knew.” Her eyes misted as she remembered, a tiny smile touching her lips. “He was Zoe’s father. I left him before she was born.”
Hoop leaned forward. “Yeah? Why?”
She lifted one shoulder in the tiniest of movements. “I was young. I was stupid.” She sighed. “But mostly I was scared.”
Taylor nodded. Living with a cop wasn’t easy. Thank God he hadn’t been in a relationship when his leg had been shot. Lord knew he’d given Lane enough grief with his bitching and moaning. It would have taken a hell of a woman or a hell of a love to get through those months with him.
His mind conjured an image of Zoe. He barely knew her, yet the thought of losing her was enough to make his knees go weak.
He steeled himself, catching Tessa’s gaze and looking deep into her eyes. “Don’t worry, Tess. I’m not undercover, I’m not scared, and I’m not going to hurt your daughter.”
She smiled, but the melancholy look remained. Then she reached up and patted his cheek. “Darling boy . . . it’s not you I’m worried about.”
“Now?” asked the skinny one. He crouched, ready to spring.
The fat one threw out a meaty paw, walloping the skinny one upside the head. “Wassa matter with you?”
“What?” The skinny one rubbed his head. “What did I do?”
“We gotta wait. Too many folks around now. Would see us, they would. We follow now. We get the halfling later.”
The skinny one scowled, settling back under the bushes. “I knew that. I did. I knew that all along.”
The halfling and the human passed by, and they watched, eyes squinting.
“We go now. We change. We follow.”
The skinny one sighed. “Now?”
The fat one shook his head, sending his rolls of fat jiggling. He reached up, pushed a fold of scaly skin out of his eyes, and scowled at his companion. “We gotta change. You change now.” The skinny one’s flesh shimmered and shifted and stretched and pulled. Folds of skin faded away, globs of fat settled, tattered rags transformed into soft fur and a wagging tail. Suddenly, a golden-haired collie crouched under the shrubs decorating the manicured lawn.
“No, no, no,” the fat one howled. “Not dogs. Human. We need to look human.” He walloped the skinny dog in the ears. “Change now. I change, too.” And he did, twisting and morphing into the rotund form of a cultured-seeming human male in a tweed jacket. Next to him, the collie had disappeared, and now the skinny one adjusted the sleeves on his tailored silk jacket.
“Good. We go now,” the fat one whispered, shoving his way out from under the bushes.
The skinny one nodded and followed, and nobody noticed as they fell into step, keeping to the shadows as they followed the halfling and the human across the neatly trimmed lawn.
16
Zoe leaned against Taylor, watching as her mom slid into the taxi.
“You two be good,” Tessa said with a wave.
He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Do we have to?”
“Taylor!” Zoe looked up at him, but he just smiled, his eyes dancing, as Tessa laughed. Instead of being entirely mortified, Zoe found herself grinning back.
The taxi disappeared down the Andersons’ drive, and Zoe blew out a breath. How had she fallen so fast? In the blink of an eye, Taylor had gone from being an idle fantasy to being a reality. How on earth was she going to get herself centered? And did she even want to?
She was still wearing his sportcoat, but even so, a shiver racked her body, terrifying and enticing. Part of her wanted to run away. A bigger part of her wanted the valet to deliver the car, wanted to press Taylor up against it. Wanted to free-fall into the backseat, and do all those things she never did in high school.
Slowly, without even trying, Taylor was chipping away her defenses, melting the icy fear that usually accompanied even the thought of being touched like that.
She shivered again.
“Cold?” he asked.
“No, no.” She swallowed, trying to gather her wits. “I’m fine.”
“Well, I think you are, anyway,” he said. “Fine, that is.”
“Oh, that’s original.” Hoop sauntered toward them from the valet station, his arm around Deena.
“Maybe not original,” Taylor said, looking only at Zoe. “But sincere.”
“Good answer,” Deena said, laughing, and Zoe felt her entire body blush redder than her hair.
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, hoping to steer the conversation back to more manageable ground. “Sorry we had to leave you alone with Mom in marriage mode.” She tried to shift her tone back to businesslike. “We’re not engaged now or anything I should know about, right?”
A slow grin spread across his face, and a feeling like warm molasses ooched down her insides.
“Well, I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said. “What kind of anything did you have in mind?”
Oh, dear. The blush was back, its heat making her cheeks burn.
“Behave yourself,” Hoop said.
“Unless you don’t want him to,” Deena whispered, her voice far too low for Hoop or Taylor. Zoe caught her eye, but Deena just grinned. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
Taylor and Hoop looked at each other.
“Did we miss something?” Taylor asked.
“You’re men. You’re supposed to be clueless,” Deena said.
“That makes me the most manly man on the planet,” Hoop said.
Deena kissed him on the cheek. “It certainly does.”
Hoop opened his mouth and then closed it again.
“Good plan, Hoop,” Taylor said. “Stay quiet. Otherwise you’ll only dig yourself in deeper.”
“Aren’t you guys supposed to be getting a dose of culture right about now?” Zoe asked.
“Righto,” Hoop said. “Where’s the valet with the car? We need to get going.” He grinned and sucked in a breath, then belted out, “Kill the wabbit! Kill the wabbit!” at the top of his lungs.
The few folks waiting at the valet stand turned, a half dozen pairs of eyes wide and curious.
Deena raised her eyes to the sky. “That’s our cue.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Zoe said.
Hoop shrugged, the grin taking over his face. “What’s the matter? You don’t appreciate culture?”
“I guess I’m just a philistine,” Zoe said.
Hoop nodded his head toward Taylor. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Well, that leaves my options pretty wide open,” Taylor said, his intense look once again reducing Zoe to shakes and shivers. “Is there anything you wouldn’t do?”
“A few things. Maybe. But if I say them out loud, I might get arrested.”
Deena walloped him with her purse, and he held up his hands to defend himself. They were still play-wrestling—the party guests watching them with amused expressions—when the valet pulled up in Hoop’s battered Jeep. Hoop whisked Deena into his arms, planted a kiss on her mouth, then helped her up into the passenger seat before climbing behind the wheel.
Taylor swung his arm around Zoe’s shoulder as Hoop pulled away, Deena riding backward in the open Jeep so she could wave and throw kisses. “They’re quite a pair.”
“Perfect for each other,” Zoe agreed. She tried not to look at Taylor as she smothered a wave of forest green envy.
She wanted what Deena and Hoop had—that closeness, that playfulness, that sense of being almost one person. And the possibility that she’d never find it scared her.
She glanced up at Taylor, silently admitting that the possibility she’d already found it—but couldn’t keep it—scared her even more.
It was amazing what one could accomplish at Radio Shack. While Zoe and her little human friend were downing cocktails on the lawn, Mordi had dashed to the nearest mall—not a long trek in southern California—and acquired a few key electronic components.
A few wires here, a transistor there, a capacitor hooked up in the middle, and voila! One track
ing device returned to prime working order. He hoped his dad was watching. At least somebody in the family knew how to work with electronics.
He watched the little green blip blinking right above the house where he again perched like an owl, his cloak draped over his shoulders. Zoe and Mr. Taylor were down there, along with their mortal friends. Eventually Zoe and the detective would split up—and Mordi would have his chance. He’d simply follow the bouncing green ball all the way back into his father’s good graces.
Blip, blip, bleep.
He perked up. The blip was on the move.
Unfortunately, unlike his cousin, supersight wasn’t one of his talents. Which meant he had to whip out his handy binoculars to get a visual on exactly who was moving—Zoe or the detective.
He pressed the glasses against his face and focused, the crowd changing from fuzzy relief to perfect clarity. He trained the lenses over the front porch, scanning the faces, until finally . . . he saw . . .
Both of them . . .
“What in the name of Pluto is going on?” he said with a snarl. With a jerk, he ripped the binocs away, lost his balance, and went scuttling down the roof, his heels and rear sending tile shingles flying. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of the rain gutter and hung there, suspended by just his fingertips, totally exposed to whomever might be looking.
He shouldn’t have worried. Being a rather unobservant lot, the nearby mortals on the ground didn’t even look up. And not one person noticed him literally hanging from his fingertips. Really, it was a wonder mortals had ever managed to drag themselves out of the primordial swamp.
Suspended four stories high, he swayed a bit, pondering his predicament. What to do? What to do?
Reconnaissance first. With his free hand, he pulled his cloak closed and fastened it. Then he grabbed up the binocs. Surely he must have seen wrong. Either Zoe or Taylor must have left. After all, the blip was moving.
He peered down, finally focusing in on Zoe. She stood there, a little smile on her face, laughing a bit as she talked to—he shifted his perspective a bit to the left—the detective.
Damn!