by J. Kenner
Giving in, Deena dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged on the concrete and forcing the other shoppers to walk around them. The collie blinked, then put his furry little chin in her lap. When he whined, Deena’s face softened and Tracy knew it was all over.
“He is pretty adorable, isn’t he?” Deena asked.
As if he understood, the dog shuffled closer, practically demanding the blonde scratch his ears.
“I think he likes you,” Tracy said.
“Hmmm.”
Zoe’s sister-in-law, Lane Kent, joined them, carrying three fruit smoothies from a stand in the food court. “Uh-oh. What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Tracy said. After her initial hesitation, she was thrilled that Zoe had sent these two to help her. Who better to get her ready for a date with Hale than women who knew him well? “Laddie here’s just going to join us for the day.”
“Laddie?” Lane and Deena asked in unison.
Tracy lifted a shoulder. “Well, it’s a boy dog. So Lassie doesn’t work. But he looks just like Lassie.”
“Lassie was a boy. At least the dogs who played her were boys, I think.”
Shooting Deena a stern glance, Lane put her hands on her hips. “Do you mind? I’d like to keep one or two of my childhood illusions alive.”
“At any rate,” Deena said, hoisting herself up off the ground, “don’t you think we should find out who he belongs to? I mean, this is an odd place for a dog to be wandering around.”
That was true enough. The Century City Mall was a prestigious shopping area overflowing with wonderful stores—wonderful, that is, until the credit-card statement came in the mail. Plus, it had the added benefit of being an open-air mall. Instead of being enclosed in one giant building, all of the common areas and walkways were outside; but even though a dog could certainly wander around easier than he could in, say, the Beverly Center, loose dogs still weren’t common. For one thing, the surrounding area wasn’t particularly residential.
“I still think he’s a stray,” Tracy said. “He probably came at night to scope out the trash cans behind the restaurants, and he just hung around.”
“But he’s not mangy or anything,” Lane said. She bent down and petted him, and Laddie preened. Then she urged him to lift one foot, and frowned when she saw the underside. “And the pads of his feet aren’t too worn down. He must belong to somebody.”
“Or maybe somebody abandoned him,” Tracy said.
“Could be,” Deena agreed. “Why don’t we report him to security and leave your home phone and cell numbers, and then if anyone’s looking for a lost dog, they can find him.” She looked at her watch. “And I hope he’s trained to wait outside stores, because we still have some serious shopping to do.”
Every muscle in Tracy’s body groaned in protest. “Rest. I need rest. Can’t we at least sit and drink our smoothies?”
Deena checked her watch and tapped her foot. “We’ve barely even begun.”
“Zoe should have warned you,” Lane said, a note of apology in her voice. “Deena’s a shopping pro.”
“I could tell.” So far, in a mini-whirlwind of activity, Deena had dragged Tracy in and out of Victoria’s Secret and a half-dozen other shops. Now she was laden down with enough hose, lacy underwear, and exotic push-up bras to clothe an entire bordello. “Please,” she begged. “Must . . . rest. Bones . . . weary.”
Deena and Lane exchanged looks, then finally shrugged in agreement.
“Thank you,” Tracy breathed. “You two are slave drivers.” She grinned at them. “And I appreciate every minute of it. Left alone, I’m a shopping disaster.” Standing back up, she urged Laddie toward one of the nearby tables. “Come on, boy.” She sank into a chair and gratefully took the Wild Strawberry smoothie Lane passed her.
“And you had Bouncing Banana,” Lane said, passing a styrofoam cup to Deena. She took a sip of her own, then sat back in her chair with her eyes closed. “Mmmm. Heaven.”
“What’d you get?” Tracy asked.
Lane opened her eyes long enough to wink. “Passion Fruit Playground.” She shot Tracy a sly look. “Maybe I should have ordered it for you.”
“Ha-ha.” Tracy took a long slurp of her strawberry smoothie. “Just because I’ve got a little bit of a crush on the guy.” Laddie whined and laid his head on her lap. She rubbed behind his ears. “Yeah, thanks boy. See? Laddie understands.”
“Oh, I understand crushes,” Deena said. “I had a monster crush on Hoop before he finally caved in and realized I existed on the planet. You just need to know what you’re getting in for if you’re falling for Hale.”
Tracy cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
Lane and Deena exchanged glances. “Well, what is it you want in a guy?” the latter asked.
Tracy’s mind drifted back to her fantasy the night before, and a tiny little smile touched her lips.
“Other than sex,” Deena said.
“Is there anything other than sex?” Lane asked. “I don’t remember.”
“Fidelity.” Deena said. “I trust Hoop completely. Well, everything but his taste in clothes.”
“Humor.” Tracy said, thinking about the tiger-poop incident. “A guy who can laugh with me and at himself.”
“Okay, okay,” Lane said. “Um . . . dependability. A guy who does what he says he’s going to do.”
“Not a bad list so far,” Deena said. She looked at Tracy. “We’re talking about your guy. Anything else?”
Tracy considered keeping her mouth shut. After all, she’d never really had a girl-to-girl talk with anyone other than Mel, and she hardly knew these women. But she liked them. And she trusted them. It might be a little premature to be planning a relationship right now, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t window-shop.
Taking the plunge, she said, “All I’ve ever really wanted is a guy who likes me for myself. A guy I can talk to. A guy I can wander around the house in front of wearing sweats and a T-shirt and still have him think I’m the hottest thing on the planet.” She shrugged, feeling a little silly. “I know it’s not particularly original, but it’s what I want.”
Laddie whined and nuzzled his head closer, as if in approval. Looking much less enthusiastic, Lane and Deena exchanged another of their mysterious glances.
“What?” Tracy asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s just that . . .” Lane dwindled off, then took a deep breath and started again. “We’re just a little concerned. Because even though Hale acts like he likes you—”
“He does?” Suddenly Tracy’s day was looking up. She’d figured he liked her, but now she had confirmation from the trenches.
“With Hale you have to be careful,” Deena said.
Tracy squinted, moving her gaze between the two of them. “What do you mean?”
Another glance, then Deena took a breath. “Hale’s had his share of women.”
“He’s a cover model, after all,” Lane said.
“And he’s . . . well . . . a little conceited,” Deena added, looking toward Lane for confirmation.
“Yeah, conceited. That’s fair. And arrogant.”
“And a know-it-all,” Deena said.
“We love him,” Lane said. “We really do. And once he’s in your court, he’s as loyal as they come.”
“But getting to know him isn’t easy,” Deena warned. “Hale’s a lot to put up with.”
“Not that any of this matters to you, yet,” Lane hastened to add. “It’s just that you should probably know about his whole thing with women.”
“He goes out with lots of them,” Deena said again. “But that doesn’t mean he’s particularly crazy about mo—” She snapped her mouth shut, shooting a horrified look in Lane’s direction.
“About what?” Tracy asked. Laddie’s head popped up, his eyes wide and agitated.
“About . . . About . . . moving too fast,” Lane said. She sat back in her seat, looking strangely pleased with herself. Deena exhaled, looking a bit less hap
py.
“Uh-huh.” Not only was Tracy’s head spinning from the weight of information they’d just piled on her, but she distinctly felt like she was missing out on something.
“Anyway,” Deena said. “Don’t move too fast with a guy like Hale. Watch your step, and watch your heart.”
Tracy exhaled, finally understanding what they were worried about. “It’s okay, you guys. I’m not interested in Hale like that. I told my best friend that very thing just a day or so ago. Last night solidified it. No more relationships. At least, not right now. I crash and burn.”
Deena frowned, her forehead creasing above her Ray-Bans. “Then, what’s going on with Hale? I thought you were all excited about this date.”
“Oh, I am! But you’re right. I already figured he’s probably got women all over the country.” She licked her lips. “The thing is, I’ve noticed him for years. On my books, I mean. And now I have the chance to . . . to . . .”
“To have a hot time with a romance cover model,” Deena finished. “Well, hallelujah!” She tossed an amused look Lane’s way. “She wants to be seduced. This is going to work out beautifully.”
“What will?” Tracy asked, once again feeling like she’d missed part of the conversation.
Lane patted her hand. “You and Hale, of course. If that’s all you want, you’re going to get along great.”
Deena stood up, apparently deciding the conversation was over. Tracy opened her mouth to ask about Hale, but the blonde cut her off. “Now we really ought to get you something to put on top of that underwear. And I’m thinking something other than that belt.”
“I love this belt. It was my grandmother’s”
“I have some of my grandmother’s clothes,” Deena said, “but that doesn’t mean I wear them every day.” She looked at Lane. “Besides, I don’t think it’s your style. Do you?”
Lane shook her head. “More your style, actually.”
“You’re right,” Deena said. “It looks just like something I’d wear.”
They were right. Even though Deena might have this shopping mall thing down pat, her own personal style seemed to lean toward more vintage selections.
“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in selling it,” Deena said.
Tracy shook her head and smiled. “Nope. Sentimental value.” Considering that, and the fact that good things only seemed to happen to her when she was wearing it, she wasn’t inclined to get rid of the belt any more than she wanted to put it back in a box. “Besides, I want to wear it. We’ll just have to find clothes that go with it.”
Lane and Deena exchanged a look, but didn’t say anything.
With a sigh, Tracy scooted Laddie’s head off her lap and retrieved her shopping bags. “Let’s go find me the perfect wardrobe. My credit cards are just getting warmed up.”
Invisible, and at the next table over, Hale watched the women. He was impressed that Deena had tried to snag the belt—even though, according to Zephron, her attempt probably wouldn’t work. But even while he was pleased by the attempt, he was irritated by the conversation, and he drummed his fingers on the formica. Not that Lane or Deena had said anything inaccurate, but somehow, hearing the truth out loud annoyed him.
It shouldn’t annoy him. He shouldn’t care at all what Tracy thought of him, since he was planning to seduce the belt away and run. A drive-by seduction. Love ’em and leave ’em. Just like James Bond. Heck, just like himself.
It shouldn’t bother him to hear aloud that he was simply going to be Tracy’s Stud o’ the Month.
Except it did. It bothered him a lot.
Damn.
Sitting down in the chair beside him, a haggard-looking attorney-type tried to convince his screaming child to eat a bite of hot dog.
“No, Daddy. It’s yucky,” the kid replied.
“Billy, what’s Mommy going to think if you don’t eat your dinner?”
“Icky.” The kid banged his fist on the table. “Icky, icky, icky.”
Hale half-watched the child while his thoughts drifted over what Tracy had said. She had specific parameters for what she wanted in a man. Serious parameters. He didn’t fit her bill at all. The realization should have made him happy. If he wasn’t Tracy’s kind of guy, then there was no way they’d get involved—no matter what foolishness his emotions might be planning.
Yes, he should be happy. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t happy at all.
In fact, he was so busy being unhappy that he didn’t notice the woman who walked up to join the attorney and his kid. She came near to sitting in his lap before he came to his senses and slid out of the chair, landing with a thud on the concrete.
“Did you hear that?” the woman asked, peering toward the noise, her face only inches from Hale’s.
“I can’t hear anything. I think Billy’s ruptured my eardrums.”
The woman laughed and sat upright again, then started talking babytalk to her child, who picked up his hot dog and took a bite.
Nice that their problems could be solved so easily. Hale didn’t think his issues would be resolved nearly as neatly. He looked around, wondering where the trio of women had gone. He caught sight of them turning a corner at the end of the sidewalk, and he was on his feet and running after them in no time.
Deena was leading the way, of course, and Lane and Tracy were walking a few steps behind, chatting and laughing. The stray collie was sticking close to Tracy. Not that Hale could blame it. Zeus knows, he certainly longed to be that close.
When they reached Ann Taylor, the group stopped and Hale sidled closer. He caught the tail end of their conversation—they were still talking about men—and regretted not having heard the rest of it. A few more pointers about what Tracy was looking for might not be a bad thing.
Not because he intended to change anything permanently, mind you. But if he was going to seduce the belt away from her, he needed ammo. That was all. He was just planning for his mission.
Mentally, he rolled his eyes at his own line of bull. Sure, he just wanted ammo. And Hieronymous was really just a misunderstood nice guy.
“So we’ll hit Ann Taylor first,” Deena was saying, “and then move on down the line until we find something perfect.”
“Well, I like that,” Tracy mentioned, pointing to a yellow dress in the window. Hale tried to picture her in it, and decided he wouldn’t have any objection.
“Not bad,” Deena said. “We’ll add it to the pile. But we still need to find something with pizzazz. Something that will knock Hale’s eyes out of their sockets.” Lane and Tracy laughed, then all three went into the store, leaving the collie outside whining and Hale lusting. Tracy wearing something with pizzazz: That was something he definitely wanted to see.
He knew he shouldn’t, but his feet itched to follow them into the store. Not that he’d sneak a peek into the dressing room—he didn’t intend to go down that road again—but just to see Tracy when she stepped out to model the outfits. After all, it was his eye sockets that they were trying to torture. If he wanted a little advance warning, that was fair. Wasn’t it?
Since he couldn’t exactly pull the door open and walk in—folks tended to get a little nervous when non-automatic doors opened and shut by themselves—he headed in that direction, then leaned against the wall and waited for another customer to come by. To pass the time, he listened, trying to hear if the collie was saying anything interesting. Maybe he could find out if it was a stray, lost or abandoned. If it was desperate to get back to its owner, maybe Hale could save Tracy some heartache.
He cocked his head, listening, but didn’t hear a thing. Odd. Most collies had a habit of talking to themselves; they were one of the more articulate breeds.
Not this collie. This dog was apparently the strong, silent type.
Perplexed, Hale moved closer. The dog was sitting right in front of the store, its rump planted on the concrete, as if Tracy were its master and always had been.
Talk about instant loyalty.
Then the dog yawn
ed, its eyes closing and opening wide along with its mouth. Vivid green eyes. Eyes that seemed familiar. Eyes that he’d seen recently, at the coffee shop with Tracy.
Right then, Hale knew. Loyalty had nothing to do with it. This dog wasn’t there to help Tracy. This dog was there for the belt.
That damn collie was his cousin Mordichai.
The whole situation stank of Hieronymous. And Hale intended to get to the bottom of it.
Without materializing, he headed toward the dog. As he got closer, Mordi’s little nose started twitching, and Hale knew he’d been found out.
The dog turned and gave a tiny little arf, easily translatable as, “What do you think you’re doing, sneaking up on me like that?”
Hale snorted. “Me? Sneaking up on you?” he whispered. “What in Hades are you doing snooping around Tracy?”
Don’t you mean snooping around the belt?
Hale stiffened, his fears confirmed—Mordi was here doing his dad’s dirty work.
“Go back and tell your dad I’ve got the belt under control. Hieronymous isn’t getting his hands on it.”
You really think that’s who I’m here for? Dad? The plea in Mordi’s voice was clear. Why would I risk my own powers by stealing the belt for him? Risk my Probation? Risk my future? Cousin, I thought you knew me better.
“For years I thought I knew you. Recently, I learned I didn’t.” And just because Mordi had a few tick marks on the “good” side of the scoreboard didn’t mean Hale was suddenly going to start trusting him.
I thought we got past that little error in judgment on my part.
“Let’s just say you’re on probation in my mind, too.”
Maybe I’m here to help.
“That’s why you’ve been following Tracy? To help?” Hale echoed, wondering if it could be true. “How?”
We Probationers have a lot of hoops to jump through. Maybe I’m here to help you.
Hale wanted to hit Mordi with a few more questions. Like why Zephron would fail to mention that Mordi would be assisting the mission. A suspicious little fact, that. But right then, Tracy slipped out the door, completely laden with shopping bags, and started heading toward Mordi.