Hers By Request

by Karen Ann Dell

  Amanda picked up the phone and dialed her mother’s number. “Hi, Mom. It’s me.”

  “Amanda? Is something wrong?”

  “Not wrong, exactly. I have some news, though. You might want to sit down.”

  “Oh God. What is it, Amanda?”

  In the background, she heard Jack ask what was going on and her mother reply, “Something with Amanda.”

  “Mom, they found Dad’s body.” What was left of it anyway. She had to clear her throat to go on. “His car was in the bay near the Wyndham’s old place.”

  “Oh my God. Do they know what happened? How did it get there?” Not quite out of earshot, she repeated Amanda’s message to Jack.

  “I just came back from there, but we don’t know anything yet. The FBI are investigating to see if he was killed by that Highway Hijacker I emailed you about a few weeks ago.”

  “Jack and I will be on the next plane, dear. Are you managing all right?”

  “Mom, I’m . . . fine.” A bald-faced lie. “You guys don’t have to come all the way from California for this.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Amanda. You’re not fine. Don’t try to fool me. How could you be fine? I think we should come.”

  Damn those psychic Mom vibes. She hadn’t told her about Dev yet and once she and Jack arrived there’d be no avoiding it. She couldn’t handle that right now.

  “Mom, really, I’m okay. Of course it was a shock but ever since I heard about the Hijacker guy I’ve been preparing myself for this. Why don’t you and Jack wait until I know more before you come? The FBI agent said it would take at least a week for the forensic team to finish going through the . . . remains.”

  “Honey, are you sure? You don’t sound okay to me.”

  “Mom, I’m sure. I sound a little weird because Mrs. Wyndham made me drink some brandy. Everyone seems to think I need to be wrapped in cotton batting and tucked into bed. But I’m fine. Really.”

  “Is your friend Zoe close by? In case you need something? I hate to think of you alone in that cottage, dear.”

  No sooner had the words left her mother’s mouth than the sound of Jeff’s motorcycle made her look out the window. Zoe jumped off, gave Jeff her helmet and a peck on the cheek, and waved good-bye.

  “Actually, she’s right here,” Amanda said, opening the front door before her friend could knock. She pointed to the phone and mouthed, “My mom.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  “Dear, I have Jack right here for support. I’ll be fine. You’ll call as soon as you know anything?”

  “Of course, Mom. Give my love to Jack. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

  “All right. Good-bye dear.”

  Amanda hung up, glad to have that conversation taken care of. She turned to her friend and asked, “What are you doing here? I told you I’d be fine.”

  “Yeah, I know. But after you left I couldn’t help feeling you should have some company tonight. So much baggage to deal with, I thought you might want to talk about . . . things. I know it must have been difficult today but at least now you’ll have some closure about your dad.”

  “There is that”, Amanda agreed, “but I still think it’s kind of spooky to find him so close to where we’ve been working for the past few weeks. The FBI agent told me they think Dad might have been one of the Hijacker’s earliest victims. Maybe even his first one, before he found better places to ditch the cars and the . . . the bodies.” Amanda shivered and rubbed her arms to quell the sudden goose bumps. “I’m glad you and Jeff were there today. I really thought I’d be fine but I guess I was wrong.” Again.

  “You didn’t cut Dev much slack, though,” Zoe commented. “Mandy, I have to agree with Mrs. W on this one. That man loves you. He may have messed up but if you could’ve seen the way looked at you when he carried you back to the house . . .” She shrugged as though the conclusion were obvious.

  It had felt so good to be in his arms. Amanda shook her head to banish the memory. “I don’t want to talk about Dev, Zoe. He was keeping a promise, and I mistook his attentions for the real thing. That was a mistake and I’ll get over it—eventually.”

  “But—” Zoe objected.

  “Drop it, partner”—Amanda held up her hands in protest—“what I need now is a distraction not a lecture.”

  “Right.” Zoe acquiesced with a sly smile. “I have just the thing.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Zoe held up a DVD. “Momma Mia. I know it’s one of your favorites.”

  She did love ABBA’s music, and Meryl Streep was her favorite actress. “Great idea. How about I order us a pizza?”

  Zoe nodded.

  Amanda dialed Donatelli’s and raised a brow at Zoe. “The usual?”

  “Everything but anchovies and green peppers,” Zoe confirmed. She plopped onto the love seat and patted the cushion next to her. “Come sit down and put your feet up. You’re still looking a bit pale and wan, sweetie.”

  Amanda joined her friend and tucked her legs under her. She leaned against Zoe and put her head on her shoulder. “It is a wonderful thing to have friends like you and Jeff. I’m not sure how I would have made it through this past week without you.” She sighed, then frowned.

  “Something’s still bugging you about today?”

  “Yeah, I still can’t help wondering how he wound up in the bay by the Wyndham’s old place. If their new house was being built I wouldn’t think the Highway Hijacker guy would have dumped the car where it might be found so easily. Of course they hadn’t started building the dock and pavilion yet, so maybe he didn’t realize there would be crews driving pilings in just fifty yards away in a few months.”

  “Probably. I wonder if he knew your dad lived down the road. The whole thing seems very strange.”

  “I know. It could just be that Dad told him about our place before . . . before . . .” Her eyes filled and her breath caught on a sob.

  Zoe put her arms around Amanda’s shoulders. “Oh, honey, don’t even think about that. Maybe I should get you another glass of brandy.”

  “No. No more brandy. I’ve already got a headache from the first glass. Besides, more liquor will only make me maudlin.”

  What she needed was distraction. And the very best distraction she could think of right now would involve Dev’s arms around her, his lips kissing their way down her body . . . Damn that man! What had he needed to speak to her so urgently about today? Probably some tax problem. She heaved another sigh.

  “Let’s get that movie going, Zo. I need to get my mind off everything in my life right now.”

  “Sure. Pizza should be here any minute, too.” Zoe turned on the TV. “Mandy, where’d you stash the remote for this thing?”

  “The drawer in the coffee table. Dev always puts it in there so he won’t . . .” Have to search for it. Does everything in this house have to remind me of you, you jerk? Amanda went to the kitchen. “I’m getting a glass of iced tea. Do you want some?”

  “Sure. Extra sugar in mine, please. You never add enough sugar,” Zoe grumped. “Too worried about losing your gorgeous figure.”

  “Not at all. There’s plenty of sugar in my tea. You just have a sweet tooth bigger than Mount Rushmore.”

  The doorbell cut short their debate.

  “Yes! Pizza! I’m starving.” Zoe sprang up and opened the door. She offered the delivery boy a couple of dollars as a tip, but he refused, saying, “No tip necessary, miss. Just meeting you was worth the trip.” He winked. “If you could just write your number on the back of this receipt . . .” Zoe gaped, and closed the door firmly in his smiling face.

  “They just drool all over you, don’t they?”

  “Who? Delivery boys? Boy being the operative term here.” Zoe put the box on the coffee table and went i
n search of napkins.

  “No, men.”

  Zoe raised a brow.

  “Okay, males, then. Even the ones ten years younger than you.” Amanda brought in the tea. “Actually, age doesn’t matter. Old, young, they follow you around like little puppy dogs.”

  “Only they’re the ones with the bones.” Zoe sounded less than enthused. “Don’t think it’s such a great thing. Ninety-nine percent of them only want one thing, and once they get it, they’re gone, faster than a Houdini disappearing act.” She took a huge bite out of her pizza slice and mumbled around it, “At least your men fall head over heels in love with you—” She closed her eyes and winced. “Sorry. I’ll keep my mouth full of pizza to stop the truth from escaping.”

  “Zoe, I told you, Dev does not love me. He was keeping a promise he made to Danny, whom he loved like a brother. He has all kinds of guilt that he shouldn’t have about Danny’s death and that made him even more determined to go to ridiculous lengths to satisfy that debt.”

  “Well, you didn’t see his face when he heard you tell me you were in love with him. Because Christmas, birthdays, Fourth of July, and winning the lottery all rolled into one couldn’t compare to it. He was so dumbstruck I was afraid he’d need CPR.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to talk about Dev,” Amanda reminded her.

  Zoe took another bite and shrugged. “Just sayin’, is all.” She clicked the remote to start the movie.

  Ten minutes into the movie and Amanda realized it was a colossal mistake. There was Pierce Brosnan on the screen looking like Dev would in about twenty years. Same untamed shock of brown hair across his forehead, same sexy body, same handsome face—with a few extra laugh lines perhaps, but close enough to make all her feminine parts sit up and beg. She should have gone for the brandy after all. Anything to dull the ache that spread from her heart to the increasingly damp spot between her legs.

  She sneaked a glance at Zoe, who appeared engrossed in the film, but whom, she suspected, had chosen this movie with an ulterior motive. The movie’s little lesson about the miscommunication that cost two people years of potential bliss wasn’t lost on her.

  But there was no miscommunication between her and Dev—there was no communication at all. All those weeks they were together he’d kept his stupid little secrets. Then, after she falls in love, he drops the truth bomb on her. After she admitted to loving him, he fesses up, gets all that angst off his chest. But did he mention that, oh, by the way, he loved her too? Heck, no.

  So no happy ending for her, no touching scene in a church where he asks her to marry him. Crap. She hit the stop button in the middle of Pierce Brosnan’s proposal.

  “That is enough of that,” she snapped. She ignored Zoe’s whine of protest, and turned on the radio. The smirk on her friend’s face had alarm bells going off in Amanda’s head.

  “Zoe Silvercreek, are you up to something?” At Zoe’s wide-eyed denial, Amanda crossed her arms and tapped her foot until her silence broke Zoe’s resistance.

  She glanced pointedly at her wristwatch. “Isn’t it about time for Dev’s show? You do still listen to it, don’t you?” Zoe had that archly superior attitude of a talk-show host who had discovered a delicious tidbit of scandal about a hapless guest.

  “Not always. I—” Amanda bit her lower lip. “Okay, yeah. I still listen. I should stop, I know, but I just can’t seem to quit.”

  A dieter whose secret stash of M&M’s had just been discovered couldn’t have looked more guilty.

  Dev arrived at the studio at ten-thirty and went straight to the back wall, taking CD after CD from the shelves. He ignored the questions in Andy’s eyes as the other man continued his on-air patter.

  When he’d cued up a song, Andy turned from the mike. “Hey, boss, what’s up? Rosemary told me I was supposed to cover the first half of your shift tonight.”

  “Well, plans have changed.” Dev set the stack of CDs on the table. “Thanks for being willing to sub for me, Andy. I appreciate it. Things haven’t gone exactly the way I’d hoped today, so I’ll be able to do my shift after all.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want Neal to come in at three a.m. either?”

  “Yeah, I guess it does. Could you give him a call when you’re off the air and tell him he’s off the hook for tonight? I’ll catch up with him later to thank him.”

  “You’re sure you’re not going to need either of us?”

  The way things went this afternoon, he was more than sure. He was one hundred percent positive he’d be right here, alone, for the next eight hours. Instead of being wrapped in Amanda’s arms like he’d hoped. “Yeah, I’m good for tonight.”

  Andy switched the mike back on, did his sign-off, and signaled Lance in the control booth to start the eleven p.m. news feed. He and Dev switched places and Andy left the studio, stopping to talk to Lance on his way out.

  Okay, Zoe, don’t let me down. Dev got the nod from Lance and clicked the mike on.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Friday night edition of Dev’s Dream Machine. For those of you who are new listeners, the first hour of my show is normally a by request hour where we open up the phone lines and let the audience choose the music we broadcast.” He paused and took a slow breath in. “But tonight the format is going to be a bit different. All the songs you’ll hear are dedicated to a wonderful woman named Amanda. A woman I happen to be madly in love with. Unfortunately, I made a colossal mistake in our relationship and this smart, kind, fascinating woman doesn’t want to hear from me ever again.”

  He paused and wished he’d brought a glass of Jack into the booth instead of going cold turkey. “Now I’m sure there are a number of my male listeners who’ve been in a similar situation—maybe even a few ladies too. Since I’m not so good at writing love letters or making speeches, there’s only one thing I could think of that has a prayer of making my lady change her mind. I’m going to let a few of the greatest singers and songwriters of all time speak for me. I hope you’re listening, Amanda. These songs are for you.”

  He opened with “All of Me”.

  He stacked the next few selections back to back: “You Made Me Love You”, You’ll Never Know”, and “Darling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup”.

  Dev checked the control room and saw Lance staring at him in amazement while Andy talked on the phone—no doubt telling Neal he didn’t have to show up at three a.m. Then again, there seemed to be way too much gesturing and animation for such a simple message. He didn’t have time to figure out what was going on with Andy because the phone lines were all blinking furiously. Didn’t these callers hear his lead-in?

  He answered the first one. “Dev’s Dream Machine, I’m sorry I’m not taking requests tonight—”

  “Yeah, I heard, man. You go for it. Just wanted to say I’ve been there too and hope this works for you.”

  “Ahhh, thanks.”

  The caller hung up, and Dev punched the next button. “Dev’s Doc—”

  “No worries, mate. I’m not calling to request a song. Let us know how it works out though, would you?” Click.

  Dev tried the next line. “Dev’s Dream Machine.” This time the caller didn’t leap right in, so he said, “I’m afraid I’m not taking any requests tonight.”

  A sultry female voice responded. “I hope she doesn’t fall for this ploy, lover boy, though she’d be a fool not to. Any man with a voice like yours has to be hotter than a rocket. If it doesn’t work out, call me.” She reeled off a phone number and hung up.

  Dev took off his headset and sat. The reflection of light on the studio glass produced the same ghostly image he’d seen before. Danny, laughing at him. The image faded away as light from the open door to the break room washed across the glass.

  Dev put on the next CD in his stack. Bing Crosby’s mellow baritone filled the studio.r />
  Dev closed his eyes and let the memory of their dance torture him. The feel of her skin beneath his fingers had them twitching and he took a deep breath, reliving the sweet scent of her perfume. By the time the song ended, he was hard as stone and aching with need.

  He opened his eyes. What the—? Was that Rosemary walking down the hall to the break room? What was she doing here at this hour? He waved to get Lance’s attention, then once he had it he pointed toward the break room and spread his hands in question. Lance just shook his head and shrugged.

  Damn. Dev turned his attention back to the show. He’d figure this out later. Right now nothing was going to interfere with Plan B. Too much depended on it. He slid the next disc into the player.