She Walks the Line (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  Mei, who’d never learned to accept compliments gracefully, breathed out an inadequate thanks and rushed off. Crista was always nagging her about her responses. But no matter how many times her friend bugged Mei to hold her head up and speak out with a straightforward thank you, Mei never felt right doing so. Cullen had mentioned her inability to accept compliments, too.

  She passed a cloakroom and left her cape, receiving a ticket, which she stored in her purse. That reminded her to put on her earrings.

  Making her way across a crowded, noisy room where guests balanced food plates and drinks, Mei Lu wondered where Cullen was right now. He hadn’t said, and she assumed he’d asked someone else to his business dinner.

  That was a disturbing thought. Trying not to dwell on it, Mei found the lounge and went straight to the mirror, where she slipped on the pearl studs and fluffed her bangs. She used this opportunity to situate her small tape recorder in such a way as to make it easy to turn on when the need arose.

  Back in the crowded room, she moved into the drink line and purchased a glass of merlot. Then she searched out a corner with a window. The sill provided a place to set her glass and allowed her privacy while she scanned the crowd for her mark. In this case, marks—plural. Suddenly hungry, she was relieved when a waiter offered hors d’oeuvres.

  There were mostly couples at this benefit. Normally it didn’t bother her to attend events alone. Tonight, though, she felt out of place and longingly wished for Cullen to appear out of thin air. Deliberately, she pushed him out of her mind and surveyed her food.

  She’d barely tasted a cheese-topped bite-size rye cracker when luck smiled on her. Three of the five men she’d been told to seek out formed a huddle less than a foot away. She hastily chewed and swallowed the cracker, and slipped deeper into the shadow cast by the drapes, discreetly switching on her tape recorder.

  The men were engrossed in a heated argument. Mei doubted any of them noticed her. At least she hoped they didn’t. She listened even more closely when the most recognizable of the executives swore while remarking on one of the trio’s two missing friends.

  “Dammit, I want out of this contract, Rollie. If Truesdale and Jessup want to load their conveyor lines with undocumented workers, let them. I answer to a nosy board of directors and they’re already making me nervous with all their poking and probing through my contract-labor records. They’d gladly feed me to the wolves if they got a hint of what I’ve pulled with the personnel files.”

  “Yeah, I agree,” his portlier companion said. “After those raids and crackdowns, I’m leery, too. I don’t feel right about leaving Jessup holding the bag if we opt out, though. He’s got a boat due in next…”

  Because the man shifted, Mei Lu didn’t catch all of his sentence. She stepped away from the drapes, and suddenly felt two hands clamp over her shoulders. A booming voice rang out. “Lieutenant Ling, what a nice surprise! You should’ve told me your evening assignment happened to be at this benefit,” Cullen said in a more level tone.

  Mei Lu whirled, nearly dumping the contents of her purse. Struck dumb, she blinked in confusion. Cullen, meanwhile, calmly snapped the catch on her bag—effectively silencing her tape recorder. At the same time, the three CEOs bore down on them with fire in their eyes and purpose in their steps.

  “Cullen,” she muttered, hoping she’d recovered quickly enough. Moving her wine to her right hand, she held up her plate and offered him an hors d’oeuvre. Growing desperate when he didn’t take one but rather waited for her answer instead, Mei rose on tiptoes and planted a kiss square on Cullen’s mouth.

  He was obviously stunned, but his hands automatically spanned her waist. When she tried to end his enthusiastic acceptance of her greeting, he wasn’t willing to turn her loose.

  Not until a gruff voice growled, “Archer? What the hell?”

  He rearranged his features and faced the speaker. “Fred Burgess. I actually hoped I’d run into you.” Cullen thrust out a hand. “Cloris told the art committee about your generous support of our benefit. Cloris Gaston,” Cullen stated the chairwoman’s full name when it appeared that Fred had blanked him out and was staring at Mei Lu.

  Not that Cullen blamed the poor devil. She was a sight for weary eyes tonight. And Fred, as well as his two companions, looked more than weary; they looked highly stressed.

  “Archer, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting your friend,” Fred said in a steely voice. “If I heard you right, you weren’t aware she planned to attend.” His smile slid away. “How, if I may ask, did she get a ticket to an invitation-only affair?”

  Mei, who could put on an act when the job demanded it, laughed gaily and snuggled up to Cullen. “Darling, your teasing has these gentlemen ready to toss me out on my ear.” She offered Fred Burgess her most engaging grin. “Cullen is such a joker. He knows I’ve been standing here for ten minutes with my nose glued to the window, waiting for his very late arrival. You naughty man,” she chided huskily, laying it on so thick that even she couldn’t believe it. Cullen, too, seemed dumbfounded. So, before he got them both thrown out, she tilted her wineglass ever so slightly, spilling merlot down the front of his expertly tailored tuxedo.

  “Oh, heavens, how clumsy. Give me your jacket, Cullen. Hold my wine, please. I’ll run to the ladies’ room to sponge those spots. If we act fast, maybe it won’t stain. Nothing’s worse than red wine.” Mei Lu shoved her glass into Cullen’s hand and darted behind him to begin pulling off his jacket.

  Slow to react and slower to catch on to Mei’s strange behavior, Cullen belatedly began to take note of the three scowling men. Things started clicking into place. He had no idea why three such prominent Houstonites had attracted the interest of the law. He’d bet his great-grandfather’s Double Eagle gold piece, however, that they were the reason Mei Lu was here.

  Actively assisting her now, Cullen passed her glass to Fred. “Here, Fred. Hold this, would you? Damn, I just got this jacket from the cleaners. I’ll go and wait outside for her to bring it back.”

  She tugged off Cullen’s second sleeve, aware he’d added things up. Now, of course, he’d want answers—answers she wasn’t at liberty to give. Mei was glad he was familiar enough with the investigative process not to say anything more damaging within earshot of the trio.

  The minute they rounded the corner, headed toward the lounge, Cullen lengthened his stride and overtook her. “Okay, what gives?”

  Ducking around him, she hurried into the lounge. Thank goodness the sink area was vacant. She dampened one of the thick Turkish towels thoughtfully provided for this upscale event, and carefully sponged the dark stain from the worsted wool. His coat didn’t smell of cleaning fluid, but of the subtle aftershave that Cullen always wore. Her pulse skipped a beat. She’d like to know all those intimate details about Cullen—and more. What did he wear to sleep in, and how did he sleep? On his side? His back? Sprawled across a huge bed? Too many questions swirled through Mei Lu’s mind when she ought to be figuring out how to counter his questions about her presence. The wayward thoughts that crept in sent hot, then cold, prickles racing down her spine.

  Or maybe the cold came as the door behind her opened.

  “Mei Lu?” Cullen whispered. “What’s taking you so long? People are starting to give me funny looks for lurking outside the ladies’ room.”

  Mei glanced down guiltily at the jacket she’d long since finished sponging and now clutched under her chin. “Coming,” she sang out, trying to muster together enough dignity to face him.

  She slipped out the door, which Cullen still held ajar, prepared to discuss the condition of his jacket. All Cullen did was rip the coat out of her hands and quickly shrug into it, never so much as glancing at the lapel that had suffered the wine spill. Mei couldn’t help comparing with the way her fastidious father or brother would have acted if anyone had dumped wine on them.

  “Before we discuss exactly why you’re here, Mei Lu, satisfy my curiosity—how did you get a ticket? Fred’s rig
ht about this being invitation-only with a price tag of a thousand bucks a ticket. The hell of it is, you had an invitation—from me—and turned it down.”

  Mei pressed two fingers to Cullen’s lips. “You asked me to go to a business dinner. Shh! Everything to do with my being at this gala concerns an ongoing criminal investigation. I’ll pick up my cape and leave quietly, but please don’t ask for particulars. I can’t tell you anymore.”

  “I have no intention of letting you leave.” As if to punctuate his statement, Cullen slid a hand around her waist, forcing her to walk hip to hip with him into the main room. “I’m here out of duty,” he said. “Because I’m on the committee. Seeing you across the room made the whole evening worthwhile.”

  “I’d feel the same way if you’d waited five minutes before blowing my cover,” Mei Lu said, gazing up at him with wry humor.

  “Ouch. I know an apology won’t help, but I’m really sorry, Mei Lu.”

  Her gaze flickered to the group she’d been eavesdropping on. She realized they’d been joined by two other men, probably those whose names she’d been given. The five were talking and gesturing. She knew they’d been warned off. She might as well go; she wouldn’t get any more information tonight.”

  Cullen had been stopped by a stylish older couple. He introduced Mei Lu as a friend and murmured her name.

  “Ling?” the woman said, bestowing a bright smile on Mei. “Are you a representative from Ling Limited?”

  Mei started to correct the woman, but Cullen tightened his grip on her waist. “Michael Ling is Mei’s father. You must know him, since you two collect Chinese art, don’t you?”

  “My, yes,” the woman gushed. “I probably have the most extensive collection of white jade in the city.”

  “And lacquerware,” her husband put in, smiling indulgently. “Although our real passion is silk hanging scrolls.”

  “Yes, your father has a standing order to acquire them for us. Of course, really genuine old scrolls are getting harder and harder to come by.”

  “The most exquisite are part of a collection found in the Baoning temple,” Mei said, understanding why Cullen had wanted to detain this couple. “The scrolls were authenticated as fifteenth-century Ming. They disappeared during World War II, and were assumed lost. But luckily they were found again in 1955 in an underground vault.”

  The woman beamed. “We were privileged to see one of the Baoning scrolls in an exhibit that toured the U.S. with the Imperial Arts of China. In fact, Cullen, you and Owen were instrumental in making sure Houston was one of the cities on the tour.”

  “By the way, Owen,” Cullen said, breaking in. “You haven’t heard of Chinese art flowing into the city through less than legal channels, have you?”

  The wizened little man looked appalled. “How would I? Louise and I only use reputable dealers.”

  “A former dealer was contacted by an envoy who, interestingly enough, turned up dead.” Cullen pulled out a business card, one that listed his insurance investigator’s license number. “They’re dangerous folks to get mixed up with, no matter how attractive they may make a deal sound. Feel free to call me if you get any offers that seem too good to be true.” Smiling pleasantly, Cullen bid the couple good-evening.

  “You scared them, Cullen. Did you see how pale they both went?”

  “Good. I hope they’re scared enough to think twice about buying black market art. They’re prime candidates. Owen’s as rich as Warren Buffett. He’s ripe to acquire a piece for no other reason than that Louise covets it.”

  “Well, you know them better than I do. I know there are plenty of collectors who don’t care where a piece comes from if they want it. Otherwise, there’d be no profit in stealing art.”

  “Can I interest you in taking a turn around the art display? Cloris, the woman heading the committee, arm-wrestled a promise out of each member to be seen viewing local artists’ work.”

  “Sure, I’ll go. Or I could call a cab and say goodbye here. I’m certain my targets won’t let me get near enough to learn anything else.”

  “Why would you call a cab? Didn’t you drive yourself?”

  “It’s a long story. The short version is, my car didn’t quite make it home from your house.”

  “You should’ve called me to come get you. How much did it cost to take a cab from your place all the way down here?”

  “I took the bus.”

  “In that dress?” Cullen seemed genuinely alarmed.

  “What’s wrong with my dress?” she returned hotly.

  A grin started slowly. “Not one damn thing if I’m the one escorting you. Otherwise…plenty.”

  “Quit that, Cullen!” Mei Lu shook her head. “You’re drawing attention.”

  “You’re drawing the attention. I’m basking in the fallout. You think there’s a man at this affair between nineteen and ninety who isn’t tripping over his teeth, envying me? Oh—just so you know, I’m driving you home.”

  “But it’s out of your way,” she protested.

  “I’m making it on my way.”

  “Okay. Thanks for being so thoughtful.”

  “You never said why you didn’t ask me for a lift in the first place.”

  “I knew you had an engagement this evening. I naturally assumed you’d found another date.”

  Cullen guided her up the final step to a cozy loft above the main floor. A few people wandered about examining artwork displayed on pedestals or hanging on the walls. Cullen brushed Mei Lu’s ear with his lips to say what he had to say privately. “I only wanted you to come with me tonight. I didn’t want anyone else. Since my marriage fell apart, Mei Lu, I usually attend these art functions alone.”

  “Is it a case of once burned, twice shy?”

  “No. It’s a case of not finding a woman I wanted to spend my free time with—until now.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  She didn’t look it, Cullen thought when they stopped in front of a canvas splashed with dark colors that resembled the outline of a man’s chest. Through a gaping slash in the center dribbled globs of red paint that looked altogether too much like blood. Each knew from the other’s horrified expression that they shared the opinion this painting was ghastly.

  “I’m for making a quick circuit,” Cullen whispered. “How about you?”

  “Okay. Can you believe this thing sold?” she said, shuddering.

  “Artistic taste is in the eye of the beholder.”

  “I know, but what fool paid hard-earned money for something so awful?”

  Fred Burgess entered the room and made a beeline for them. “Great, huh? It’s the best painting here. I bought it. What do you think?”

  “Fred,” Cullen said, “I’m speechless. I hope you have the perfect spot.”

  Mei decided it was a good thing Cullen answered for them, because she was at a loss for words.

  “Yep, over my office desk. I figure it’ll keep my employees in line.” Burgess laughed, but he laughed alone. “Lieutenant, are you an art connoisseur?” Burgess singled Mei Lu out.

  “I am, but I prefer Chinese tapestries. Perhaps you’re not aware that my family operates Ling Limited Imports. I used to acquire for our Hong Kong branch.”

  “You gave it up to become a cop? Wasn’t that a big drop in pay?”

  “Money isn’t everything, Mr. Burgess.”

  “Oh, but it is, little lady. Which do you figure brings down more cops—greed or bullets?”

  Mei said nothing, again having nothing to say.

  The paunchy Fred smirked. “I can see you’ve gotta think about that real hard. Well, I’ll go pay for my painting and collect the missus.” He turned and clattered down the stairs.

  Cullen gave Mei Lu a puzzled look. “That sounded like a warning. I admit it went over my head. Of course, I’m not surprised, given Fred’s taste in art.”

  “It was a threat of sorts, but it didn’t go over my head. He’s warned me off.”

  “Off?” Cullen wrapped his arm around
her tighter as if to keep Mei Lu safe.

  “Off an investigation,” she murmured. “Don’t ask, Cullen.”

  “Not our investigation?”

  “No, another. I really need to get home so I can listen to a tape I made earlier. I appreciate your offer to drive me, but I think I’ll catch a cab, after all.”

  “No. I’ve seen enough of our local talent. I believe you said you had a wrap? Retrieve it. I’ll tell Cloris Gaston I’m taking off.”

  Mei might have objected more vociferously had Burgess’s veiled threat not shaken her. Shel Murdock wouldn’t be happy to hear she’d botched her assignment. On the other hand, if her tape player had continued to record after Cullen interrupted her, maybe she’d picked up some reference to when the next human shipment was due. Although, since she’d made Fred Burgess and his pals nervous, they might well scrap their plan.

  She noticed Jessup watching her as she produced her ticket and collected her cape. He headed toward her. Mei Lu was glad Cullen appeared right then, saying he was ready to leave, and Jessup veered off.

  Mei casually slid her arm through Cullen’s. That left her feeling more secure, especially when he closed his free hand around hers and smiled into her eyes in a way that lit a match under her already smoking passion.

  She managed to forget about the case soon after Cullen helped her into his car. “Ah, no doubt about it, this is far superior to slogging here on the bus. Have you ever taken one, Cullen?”

  “In England I took public transportation to and from college. And when I was a kid here, it was safer. With everything going on in Houston today, I’d never let the twins leave home armed with nothing but quarters and a bus schedule.”

  “Is it because there’s more crime or more people?”

  “More gangs. Did you get hit on in that dress?”

  Mei Lu’s laugh was low and throaty. “That question came out of left field.”