Nobody But You

by Julie Kenner

  “Not exactly the point.”

  Tasha was right, but Jacey wasn’t in the mood to admit it.

  Tasha stood up, her usually superstraight shoulder-length blonde hair now wild and curly. “I should run. Is he going to be long?”

  “You can go ahead and go.” For some reason, Jacey couldn’t quite meet Tasha’s eyes.

  “Oh? Oh, really?”

  Jacey’s cheeks warmed and she resisted the urge to cover them with her hands. “He just came here to talk.”

  “Uh-huh,” Tasha said before she flounced toward the door. She paused just long enough to shoot back a knowing look, then waggled her eyebrows. “If you’re planning on doing more than talking, feel free to check out the contents of the pink trunk next to my bed. I’m sure something in my toy chest would be to Mr. Anderson’s liking.”

  “Go!” Jacey aimed a finger toward the door…just as David Anderson walked through it. Jacey couldn’t have been more mortified if she’d been naked in the kitchen dancing the hokeypokey.

  With one long stride, David stepped past Tasha and into the room. With an exaggerated gesture, Tasha dropped her jaw and gave Jacey a big thumbs-up sign. Then she jerked her hand up and ran her fingers through her hair when David twisted around to face her. He stuck his hand out in greeting as Jacey prayed for a conveniently located sinkhole. Once again, her prayers were ignored.

  “Hi. I’m David. You must be Tasha.”

  “I guess I must,” Tasha said, pulling her hand from her hair.

  “I thought I asked you to wait in the living room,” Jacey said, hoping the chill in her voice sounded like it came from irritation rather than mortification.

  “You did. But I was hoping we could finish our talk before the next millennium.” He aimed a supercilious smile at both of them. “Don’t worry. I didn’t hang outside the kitchen eavesdropping on your private conversations.”

  That did it. “I don’t care what you have to say.” Jacey aimed a finger toward the door. “You’re fired. Get the hell out of here.”

  “Okay, okay.” He held up both hands, looking genuinely contrite instead of absurdly superior. “I’m sorry. Bad joke. I really didn’t listen at the doorway. If you two were having a private talk I promise I didn’t hear anything.” He looked from Tasha to Jacey, his gaze settling on hers, his ocean blue eyes seeming oddly trustworthy under the circumstances. “Cross my heart.”

  “And hope to die?” Jacey asked, unable to help herself.

  “For you, sweetheart? I wouldn’t bet the ranch.”

  An unexpected bubble of laughter escaped her lips. “Fair enough. I guess.”

  “Great.” He walked the rest of the way into the room, as if that was the end of that.

  “So you saw Al’s application, huh?” Tasha asked.

  David glanced at Jacey and she just rolled her eyes.

  “Actually, I did,” he said.

  “Was he married?”

  “Tasha!”

  “What? We want to know. And you said you were going to ask.”

  David shook his head. “He checked the box for single.”

  “But he could have gotten married since,” Tasha said, as Jacey considered throttling her best friend.

  David grinned. “I can certainly check into that, too, if you want,” he said, heading toward the little yellow Formica table that Tasha had found at the Rose Bowl flea market. He pulled out a chair, spun it around, and straddled it.

  Jacey rolled her eyes. “Are you physically incapable of sitting normally?”

  “Huh?”

  She nodded toward the chair.

  He gave her a disbelieving look. “This is a problem for you? The way I’m sitting? What? Does Tasha moonlight as Miss Manners?”

  “Not hardly—”

  “Thanks a lot,” Tasha said.

  “—it’s just…” She trailed off. Why bother? She wasn’t going to be spending enough time around him to make it worth her while. “Never mind.” She headed for the sink, then added a dozen or so more paper towels to the already growing pile. “So why couldn’t you have told me all this over the phone?”

  “Building a lake?”

  “Leaky pipe. You wanna answer my question?”

  “Want me to fix it?”

  “You?” She glanced at Tasha, who’d been standing mute in the corner. Now her roommate nodded vigorously. “You know how to fix a leak?”

  “Yes. David do plumbing.” He beat on his chest and grunted, then scratched under his arm. “Ugh.”

  For only a second she hesitated. Surely he couldn’t make the leak worse. “Give it a shot.”

  “Got a pipe wrench?”

  She and Tasha looked at each other again. They both shrugged.

  “There’s a box of tools under the sink,” Tasha said. “My last boyfriend gave them to me for Christmas.”

  “And that’s why he’s no longer your boyfriend,” David said.

  Tasha laughed. “Got it in one.” She looked at Jacey and raised her eyebrows. “I like the way this guy thinks.”

  Jacey crossed her arms, feeling far more proprietary toward David than she should. She nodded toward the sink. “Just do whatever it is you do so we can get back to talking.”

  “I can talk and work just fine. I can even chew gum and walk. It took some practice, but I finally got the hang of it.” He knelt down in front of the sink and Jacey heard him rummaging in the toolbox. “You’ve got a wrench,” he said, his voice hollow under the cabinet.

  “Wow,” Tasha whispered, pointing at David’s butt.

  Stop it, Jacey mouthed.

  Nice, Tasha mouthed back, her eyebrows high as she flashed the thumbs-up sign with both hands. She cleared her throat. “Well, I guess I better go.” She turned slightly, aiming her words toward David’s ass. “Jacey, you’re sure you don’t mind taking a taxi?”

  “I don’t mind,” Jacey hissed. “Now would you just get out of here?”

  David shifted, his jeans tightening just enough that Jacey and Tasha both sighed, and then his head appeared from under the cabinet. “Where do you have to go?”

  “Santa Monica,” Tasha said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jacey said at the same time.

  “I can drive you,” David said.

  “No than—”

  “Great,” Tasha said. “I’ll feel so much better knowing you’re in a car with someone trustworthy. Those taxi drivers are maniacs and half the time they don’t pick you up on schedule. I’d hate for you to be late.”

  “Tasha…” Jacey was certain smoke was billowing from her ears.

  Tasha just smiled, an innocent little oversexed cherub. Damn the girl.

  “What’s wrong with me? I’m a licensed driver. Hell, I can even parallel park.”

  Well, heck. What was she supposed to say to that? “I, um, don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  “It’s no problem,” he said, rolling over onto his back and scooting under the sink. After a few seconds, his head and hands disappeared into never-neverland. “But why can’t you just drive yourself?”

  “My car’s getting new tires. I was going to ride with Tasha, but she’s already running late, and it looks like I’m stuck here with you and the sink.”

  “Then I guess it’s either me or walk to Santa Monica. If you’re walking, I’d start now.”

  “Fine. Whatever. Drive me.” In the long run, it was easier just to give in. Besides, how horrible could it be to spend another hour or so with David Anderson? He might be a pain in the ass, but at least the ass was nice to look at. “If you’re sure it’s no problem.”

  “I told you, I came here to talk to you. We’ll just do some of the talking in the car.”

  “Okay. If you’re that gung ho to play taxi, it’s fine with me. But this trip better not show up on your invoice as needing a mileage reimbursement.”

  “Cross my heart,” he said.

  “And hope to die?”

  His chuckle echoed from under the plumbing. “Sweethear
t, we’ve already been down that road.”

  “I think that’s my cue to leave,” Tasha said. “Thanks, David.”

  “No problem.” He grunted, then Jacey heard the scrape of metal against metal followed by, “Okay. Try it now.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about.

  “The water, Jacey. Turn it on.”

  “Oh! Right.” She trotted to the sink, then realized she couldn’t reach the faucet without straddling him. She grimaced, glanced down to make sure his head was still under the counter, and then moved in to turn on the water.

  “Looks like it’s working,” he said, his voice sounding much less hollow.

  With a little trepidation, she glanced down, only to find that he’d slid out from the cabinet and was now lying on the floor between her legs, looking up in the general vicinity of her, well, of her. Jacey’s skin warmed, and she was certain she was blushing a million shades of pink.

  With as much dignity as she could muster, she hopped to one side, trying to jump over him, but she only managed to land on the still-slick tiles. Her feet slid out from under her and she dropped with a thwump to the ground, her butt in the puddle and her left leg draped over his chest.

  The million shades of pink increased to about a billion. If God was truly merciful, He’d simply strike her down right then and put her out of her misery.

  No such luck.

  “You okay?” He shifted beneath her, the firmness of his chest more than obvious against her calf.

  She jerked her leg away and scrambled, crablike, backward. “Fine. I’m fine.” She felt her cheeks warm and she nodded toward the sink. “Did you fix it?” Considering the cascade of water had stopped, it was a stupid question, but she needed to say something, anything.

  “Yup. All done.”

  “Great,” she said, hoping her voice sounded normal. “Thank you.” She stood up and brushed herself off, then headed to the fridge for a soda. She wasn’t really thirsty, but she was still shook up from their unexpected bodily contact, and she wanted something to occupy her hands. After two gulps, she felt capable of turning around to face him. “So. You wanted to talk, right? Let’s talk. Tell me why you came all the way over here instead of just calling me on the phone.”

  “Policy,” he said, sitting up.

  “Policy?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “If I’ve got bad or unexpected news, I like to give it in person.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She supposed that made sense. “So what now?”

  “Now? Now we need to figure out our next move.”

  “Our move? Don’t you mean your move? You’re the investigator.”

  “And I’m happy to investigate.”

  “Good,” she said.

  “Good,” he repeated. He hauled himself up off the floor, then dusted off that perfect specimen of a rear end while she tried not to watch. “What?” he asked.

  “What?” she squeaked.

  “Yeah. You looked like you wanted to say something.”

  “Oh. Right. It’s just…” She scrambled for something relevant.

  “He lied to you?”

  That sounded good. Certainly better than telling him she hadn’t been distracted by deep thoughts, just by the curve of his tush. “Exactly.”

  “I wouldn’t be too hard on the guy,” David said. “I mean, the explanation’s pretty obvious.”

  “Really?” She squinted, not sure if she trusted him to be serious. “I thought you said you didn’t have an explanation?”

  “I lied. Of course I have an explanation.” He straddled a chair again, then propped his elbow on the back, resting his chin in his palm. “You’re paying me to think about this guy, aren’t you? What do you think I’ve been doing for the last couple of hours?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter, the countertop cool against her rear end. “Believe me,” she said, “I wouldn’t even presume to imagine what you do with your time.”

  “Your time, sweetheart. You’re paying me, remember?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “Sex.”

  She blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “That’s my theory.”

  “I knew you didn’t have a serious theory.”

  “The hell I don’t. I’m as serious as a heart attack. Sex, sweetheart. He wanted to get laid, and he lied to you to do it. You know. Impress the girl. All that jazz.” He leaned back in the chair, still holding on to the backrest. “And it worked damn well, too, didn’t it?”

  “No.”

  David just stared at her.

  “Well, it didn’t. I liked him,” she added, unwilling to admit that Al might be sliding toward the Mr. Wrong end of Jacey’s personal spectrum.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “In fact, I bet he went to law school somewhere, but he just said Harvard to impress me.” That had to be right. Surely he hadn’t lied about being a lawyer, too. That other guy in the bar mentioned a case. And, besides, he looked like a lawyer in his pressed jeans and starched white button-down.

  “Maybe so. Want me to find out?”

  “How?”

  “Calling the state bar comes to mind. And if he’s not licensed in California, we’ll decide where to go from there.” He shrugged. “But first, I figured I’d swing by his apartment, and if he’s home, I’ll just ask him. If he’s not, maybe one of his neighbors knows something.”

  “His apartment?” she repeated, sure she couldn’t possibly have heard right. “He lives here? In L.A.? You have his address?”

  “Where he used to live, at least. I don’t know if he’s still there or not.”

  Oh my. Her skin warmed, and her palms started to sweat. She couldn’t believe it. In just a few minutes, she might actually be seeing Al again.

  Looks like her D-day plan was up and running.

  She took a deep breath and grinned. Fixing the plumbing and finding Al. Looks like hiring David Anderson had been a smart move after all.

  “I’ll go right now,” Jacey said, her voice tinged with excitement.

  David rubbed his temples, his elbows propped on the chair back, as he tried to organize his thoughts. The crotch seam in Jacey’s sweatpants was frayed, and he’d caught quite a glimpse of her pink satin undies from his earlier vantage point. A rather nice view, but now his thoughts were all in a muddle. “Go?”

  “Al’s house,” she said. Her forehead creased as she squinted at him. “You feeling okay? Do you want some aspirin?”

  He waved the question away, forcing himself back on track. “I’m fine.”

  She pushed a pad of paper toward him. “In that case, write down the address for me.”

  He shook his head. “No way, sweet stuff.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re not going alone,” he said.

  “The hell I’m not. I didn’t hire you to be an escort.”

  “No, but you hired me to find him.”

  “And you did.”

  “Maybe.” David shrugged.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean, we won’t know till we get there, will we?”

  “Until I get there. The last thing I want when I see my old boyfriend again is a chaperon.”

  God, the woman was obstinate. “Let me spell it out for you,” he said. “Seven-year-old address. Bad neighborhood. I’m not giving you the address if you’re just gonna head out and go pounding on the door of some guy who probably sells crack.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Deal with it.” He shrugged. “Or don’t deal with it. Either way, you’re not getting the address.”

  Apparently Jacey knew when she was beat. Her shoulders sagged and she dropped down into the chair opposite him. “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  “Since I happen to currently be carless, we’ll go together.”

  So much for knowing when she was beat. “I don’t think so.”

  “And why not?”

  “I don’t
work that way.” He looked her in the eye. “Now let’s drop it, okay.”

  “What way?” she asked.

  He sighed. Apparently the dropping-it plan wasn’t going over well. “With a tagalong.”

  “I’m not a tagalong.” Her voice was level, almost monotone, and he knew she was keeping her anger in check. “I’m your client. And I’m paying the bills. Remember? Either give me the address I paid you for, or take me with you.”

  For a second, he considered putting up more of a fight. But she was right. She was paying the bills. And since she wasn’t going to shut up about it…

  Sighing, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Fine. Whatever. But if Big Al blows us off his porch during a crack deal gone bad, you’re gonna hear me say I told you so.”

  She rolled her eyes, apparently not appreciating his attempt at levity. “I’m going to go change.”

  “You sure? I mean, in an outfit like that what ex-boyfriend could resist? Especially with the fringe benefits.” Rude, maybe, but she’d irritated him with her insistence on tagging along and he couldn’t help himself.

  Her glare shot straight through him. “I’m dressed perfectly appropriately for hanging around my apartment on a Saturday. You’re the one who arrived unannounced. What did you expect? To find me in satin lounging pajamas?”

  He chuckled. “No. Actually, the bit of satin I caught a glimpse of was more than I’d expected. I figured you for a one-hundred-percent cotton girl.”

  Her head cocked, and he knew she was completely clueless. “Satin?” she asked.

  He waggled his eyebrows and lowered his voice. “Satin.”

  Her face stayed blank. And then—”Oh my God.” She stood up from the table, backing away from him like she’d just realized he had typhoid. “You saw my—”

  “Hey, personally, I’m all for it. I mean, pink on a girl…can’t get better than that. But don’t you think it’s a bit too revealing for a reunion? Even a lover’s reunion?”

  Considering the look on her face, he felt a little guilty as she backed up to the counter, the top of her hip pressing into the edge, then snaked her hand around to poke at her sweatpants. After a second, her face tightened and she sucked her cheeks in. “You didn’t think to mention this before?”