by Julie Kenner
“You haven’t—”
He held up a hand, silencing her. “We talked about it last night.” Literary license. They hadn’t actually talked, but Jacey’s message had been clear enough.
“She just doesn’t know you.”
And apparently she wasn’t going to get the chance. The thought depressed him and he pointed to the television. “Break’s over, Millie. I’m not paying you if you’re not filing.”
“You’re not paying me, anyway,” she pointed out.
True enough, but David dodged that one by turning back to his computer.
“So what are you looking for?” Finn said.
David tapped at the keyboard and pulled up a search engine. “No clue.”
“So where are you going to start?”
David shrugged. “Still clueless.”
“At least you have a plan,” Finn said. He grabbed David’s footlocker, upended it, and used it as a stool.
David turned away from the computer to face his buddy. “All I’ve got is a hunch. Something feels off. Maybe I won’t be able to figure out what, but—”
“You’re not going down without a fight.”
“Exactly,” David said.
“And if you do figure something out, you’ve got an excuse to see Jacey again.”
“I think I’ll start with his law practice,” David said, ignoring Finn’s low chortle. Clements’s law firm had a web page, but it didn’t say much of anything about Clements’s lone associate.
“Poor Al,” Finn said. “Probably doing all the work and getting none of the glory.”
“Could piss a guy off,” David said. He tapped a few more keys and headed over to the site for the Los Angeles Times. “Let’s see what kinds of cases were keeping Al burning the midnight oil.”
He ran a search for the law firm, Melvin Clements, or Albert Alcott. Over a hundred articles popped up. “Well, great.” He flipped on his computer and followed the instructions to access the articles and print them, one after the other. Then he swiveled around in his chair, taking in Finn and Millie with his glance. “So? Who’s up for a little light reading?”
• • •
Two hours later, articles littered the floor of David’s apartment, but even after four more computer searches nobody had found anything of interest. David had been shopping that morning and his kitchen was well-stocked, so he took a break to bake a cinnamon apple cobbler. “Energy food,” he said, pulling it out of the oven. “You guys find anything?”
Millie shook her head. “This Clements fellow represented some pretty bad dudes. But nothing really jumps out.”
Bad dudes? David mouthed to Finn, as he dished them each out some dessert. Finn just shrugged.
“Nothing much in my stack, either,” Finn said. “How about yours?”
“Nothing around March,” David said. “But I still need to read the articles from earlier in the year.” He riffled his stack. “Looks like maybe five.”
He dropped onto the sofa and started flipping pages with one hand and shoveling in cobbler with the other. A paragraph buried in the middle of the second article caught his attention. “Either of you read anything about this? Apparently the cops were investigating Joey Malone for some diamond heist. Clements represented him in the grand jury proceeding.”
“Nope,” Finn said. He shuffled through the rest of his papers. “Nothing in here, either.”
“Millie?” David asked.
“I’ve already finished my stack,” she said, looking up from where she was organizing his clippings. “No mention of diamonds at all.” She paused, then, “Of course, this has to be why Jacey was mugged.”
David crossed his arms. “You wanna run your logic by me?”
“It’s a hunch,” she said. “We gal Fridays are known for our hunches.”
That was good enough for David. He grabbed his wallet off the desk and started heading for the door.
“You’re leaving?” Finn asked.
“Absolutely.” David paused in the doorway. “Joey Malone, diamonds, Al’s fake name, and Millie’s hunch. I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but I’m pretty sure Jacey’s right smack in the middle of it.”
“And you’re going to go rescue the girl,” Finn said.
“As a matter of fact,” David said, “I am.”
“You’ve been moping around all morning,” Tasha said. “Call him.”
Jacey finished the last of her coffee and signaled to the waitress. She’d had an appalling lack of sleep last night, alternatively kicking herself for walking away from David and praising her ability to stick to her guns even in the face of a massive attack of libido, not to mention the electricity his touch had generated.
Instead of sleep, she’d sat up in bed with a sketch pad, a package of Hostess Ding Dongs, and a pitcher of hibiscus tea mixed with Sprite. By the time morning rolled around, she’d turned out some awesome sketches of David and was well on her way to sugar shock.
“Jace!” Tasha stabbed her fork into her Cobb salad. “Would you quit ignoring me? Just go see him.”
Jacey scowled at her friend as she rummaged in her purse for a pencil. “Why?”
“Why should you quit ignoring me? Because I’m your best friend and you love me dearly.”
Jacey unfolded her napkin, spreading it out on the table in front of her, then smoothed the creases with her index finger. “I don’t have any reason to call him.” Not exactly true. Off the top of her head, she could think of three good reasons to call—his eyes, his lips, his fingers.
“Sure you do. Tell him you want your ice cream.”
“I can’t do that. If I say I want ice cream, he’ll think I want sex.”
“Which you do,” Tasha said.
“But I want more than just sex. You know that.”
“David’s more,” Tasha said. “He’s smart and he’s funny and he’s positively gorgeous in a rumpled sort of way.”
“That he is.” Jacey let out a long, slow breath, remembering the way he’d looked at her after she’d pulled away. His eyes, all warm and dreamy, masking a surprising hint of danger, as if they’d spent the morning in bed and he still had more planned. She’d barely gotten the appetizer; she couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like after the main course.
She crossed her legs, her body humming from the memory of David’s fingers dancing over her skin. It had taken all her strength to walk away, but she’d done the right thing. She was sure of it. Too bad being right was such torture.
She took three deep breaths, strengthening her resolve. “No,” Jacey said, with a quick shake of her head. “David Anderson is not an eligible bachelor.”
“Who cares?” Tasha said. “Have a little fun.”
“I care,” Jacey said, but she couldn’t quite meet Tasha’s eyes. Instead, she concentrated on catching the waitress’s attention. No luck there, so Jacey started doodling on the napkin. “David’s a hot fudge sundae,” she said. “With candy sprinkles and maybe even a cherry.”
“See? Gorgeous and yummy.”
“Sure, until you tip the scales. My hips and thighs can’t take hot fudge day after day—”
“Or night after night,” Tasha put in, waggling her eyebrows.
“I need steak,” she said, her voice firm, not entirely sure if she was trying to convince herself or Tasha. “Lean meat and vegetables.”
“Well, lean meat is good,” Tasha said.
Jacey tapped the pencil against her still empty coffee cup, ignoring the leer in her best friend’s voice. “Stable. Normal. Reliable. That’s what I need.”
“Boring,” Tasha said.
“Permanent. Real.” David might be sexy, fun, and a damn good kisser, but he wasn’t the settling-down type. And at one month shy of thirty, Jacey wasn’t interested in wasting time with commitment-phobic men. She aimed a scowl toward Tasha. “Besides, you’re one to talk. Bob’s not exactly a one-man Cirque du Soleil.”
“He has his moments.” She drummed her fingers on the ta
bletop. “Not that I’ve seen any, but he swears he has them.” She shrugged. “And we’re not talking about my pathetic love life, we’re talking about your pathetic love life. And my point is that you’re tormenting yourself.”
The waitress walked by and Jacey leaned out of the booth, waving her coffee cup. Still no reaction. She turned back to Tasha. “What am I? Invisible?”
“You ignore me,” Tasha said, “she ignores you. Karma.”
“I’m not ignoring you,” Jacey said. “But the idea that I’m tormenting myself by not dating David is silly. I’m not a sixteen-year-old curled up eating ice cream and pining away for some guy.” No, she was a twenty-nine-year old eating Ding Dongs. “Besides, I think that the fact that he hasn’t called me is pretty telling.” She picked the pencil back up and frowned at the napkin. She’d roughed out a design for one of Gregory’s walls without even realizing she was doing it.
“You’re the one who told him to get lost,” Tasha said. “He probably figures you’re happy to be free of him.”
“And I am,” she said, adding a little shading. And, theoretically, it was true. “I don’t want to find Al, so I don’t need David. And David’s not boyfriend material, so what’s the point in having him around?”
Tasha dipped her fork into the dressing, then snared a bite of salad, her brow creasing. “Haven’t we been over this ground already?”
“Yes!” Jacey said. “Can we please drop it now?”
“You’re the one who keeps bringing him up.”
Jacey stopped shading the Cowardly Lion’s mane. “No I’m not. You’re the—” She held up her hands in surrender. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. The subject’s closed.”
“Fine,” Tasha said.
“Fine,” Jacey echoed.
Jacey managed to finish the lion and get halfway through an outline of a flying monkey before Tasha piped up again.
“Still…”
Jacey didn’t even answer. Just looked at her friend.
“I’m just saying that you like the guy. Why not see what happens? It’s not like I’m going to get all Martha Stewart on you and start planning your wedding. Just go out on a date. Take a risk. Have a little fun. Hell, have an orgasm.”
“Tasha!” She looked around the restaurant, wondering how many of the old men chowing down on the senior citizen special had overheard.
“What? You afraid they’ll think you’ve never had one?”
“I’ve had plenty, but that doesn’t mean they need to be analyzed in the back booth at Dupar’s.” She fiddled a little with the fez on the monkey’s head. “Besides, liking him isn’t an argument designed to get me and David together. It’s an argument for keeping us apart.”
Tasha squinted. “Call me slow, but I’m not following you.”
“This is me we’re talking about. Me. The woman with the world’s worst taste in men. If I like him, he must be totally wrong for me.” She remembered the nights she’d spent with Al and felt a little sick. Oh God, if she was going to relive those moments, she really needed to start carrying Tums.
“Okay, now you’ve officially stopped making sense.” Tasha tilted her head to the side. “Are you planning on marrying a man you don’t like?”
Well, that was a good point. “You’re right. I should just become a nun.”
“The benefit is that those habits hide most figure flaws. But the downside is that I don’t think you’re really cut out for the lifestyle.”
Jacey half smiled, but shrugged. “Maybe not. I’m beginning to think I don’t know what I’m cut out for. But right now, I’m not going to worry about it. I’m going to focus on work, I’m going to save money, and if I have to get the house before I get the husband, then that’s just the way it’s going to be. I mean, I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own mortgage and painting my own walls. Men, schmen.”
“You go, girl.”
Yeah, she went all right. Right to her three-bed-room house in Valencia with her mortgage and her dog—but no husband. Well, half a life was better than none.
“Do you want to get dessert?”
Jacey checked her watch. “I don’t think we have time. We can’t even get a coffee refill and I’m supposed to be at work at one to sign all the forms with the human resources lady. It’s already twelve and I don’t want to be late on my first day. Do you have time to drive me home before you head back?” Tasha was technically on her lunch hour, but since she’d been spending the last two weeks at the office reviewing stacks of financial documents for Elliott, she’d been taking longer and longer lunches.
“Hon, if it keeps me away from that deathly dull stack of paper for even five more seconds, I’d gladly drive you to San Francisco.”
“Just around the corner will be fine. If I want to change clothes, I don’t have time to walk.”
“And you do need to change clothes,” Tasha said, holding up a hand to signal for the check. “If you’re going to work in the world of high finance, you need to look the part.”
“I’m not exactly doing arbitrage,” Jacey said, smoothing her sundress, then hoisting her foot up onto the bench seat to adjust her sandal strap. “It’s just an accounting firm.”
“Even so. You want to make a success of this job, you need to look like you’re serious.” She looked Jacey up and down. “Wear my black suit.”
Jacey frowned, trying to picture the thing. “The one you basically have to use a crowbar to get into?”
“Your hips are smaller than mine. It won’t be that tight on you.”
“It won’t be that tight because I’m not wearing it. It’s not my style at all.”
Tasha shrugged. “Suit yourself. Wear one of your dresses, then. Just remember that first impressions count.”
Jacey scowled, not wanting to admit out loud that Tasha had a point. She should have bought a suit. Something nicer, with a skirt that hit midcalf. Not that she’d had any time to shop, between missing boyfriends, muggings, and near-sex experiences, her schedule had been pretty well packed.
“And Jace…”
She lifted her head. “Yeah?”
“Try to focus on the job, okay? Not on Gregory’s walls.”
Jacey frowned, looking down and realizing that she’d finished another sketch—an intricate Wizard of Oz design that would look fabulous hanging on Gregory’s west wall. “Right. No problem.” She crumpled the napkin and tossed it onto Tasha’s now-empty plate.
The waitress came up with a pot of coffee in one hand and their check in the other. “More coffee before you go?” she asked. She slipped the check onto the table and started to collect the dirty dishes.
Jacey tried out her sweetest smile, even as she snatched the crumpled napkin before the waitress could spirit it away. “No thanks. I think we’re fine.”
David’s plan to head straight for Jacey’s place was derailed by the plumber—a big bear of a man in gray coveralls with Chuck stitched on the breast pocket. Not only did David need to find out the guy’s estimate, but since Chuck’s truck was blocking the driveway, David wasn’t getting out of there any time soon.
After Chuck went through his Top Ten Reasons to Hire Chuck the Plumber list, David let him have free run of the house—inside and underneath—while he waited on the back porch for the bad news.
It didn’t take long.
“One of the worst cases I’ve ever seen, son,” Chuck said, crawling out from under the house. “Corrosion, leaking, some all-around serious stuff going on in those pipes.” He wiped his hands on his coveralls, little bits of dirt clinging to the material.
David’s stomach started to hurt. Serious stuff sounded seriously painful to his bank account.
“How much?” he asked.
“To do it right?” Chuck gnawed on the earpiece of his glasses. “I’ll have to work up an estimate, but you’re looking at around twenty grand.”
David’s reaction must have made Chuck fear he wasn’t going to get the job, because he immediately reminded David that Millie’s h
omeowner’s policy should cover the work.
“Right,” David said. “She’ll just have to cover the deductible.” Which, of course, meant that he’d have to cover the deductible. Which was still a hefty chunk of change. Considering Millie’s strapped-for-cash position after Uncle Edgar died, David had done some serious cost-cutting. Thanks to him, Millie’s annual premium was a lot less—which, of course, meant the deductible was a lot more.
His stomach twisted, hating to acknowledge the truth. But he was getting pretty close to rock bottom and with the five grand he was going to have to shell out to cover Millie’s deductible…well, his bank account was about to be brutalized.
And he could think of only one way to refill it.
“Get me the estimate,” he said, “and then we’ll talk.” But he already knew the answer. Millie needed plumbing and he needed to pay for it.
He sighed, finally making the decision he knew he had to make. Marva swore she could sell another book if he brought her a crime.
And with Jacey’s help, he might just have stumbled across one.
Late, late, late. Jacey was going to be late and she still hadn’t found a pair of shoes to go with Tasha’s black outfit. After much mental debate, not to mention trying on both outfits twice, Jacey had finally decided against her floral print dress in favor of Tasha’s black suit.
Tasha was right. The dress was boring and didn’t make a statement. The black suit, on the other hand, was confidence personified—I am woman, hear me roar. Or, at the very least, I am woman, please don’t fire me.
Definitely one of the benefits of a roommate—double the wardrobe.
Not that Tasha got a reciprocal benefit. She wouldn’t be caught dead in Jacey’s clothes. Truth be told, Jacey wasn’t all that crazy about being caught dead in Tasha’s clothes. But she needed a power suit and this certainly qualified.
Besides, she could always change back into sweats once she got home.
Of course, if she didn’t find shoes, she might as well wear sweats to the job. So far, her shoe quest was coming up empty.
Frustrated, Jacey gave up on her closet. None of her sneakers would go with the outfit and her single pair of pumps had decided to do a disappearing act. Cursing footwear generally, Jacey raced back to Tasha’s room, her pantyhose-covered feet slipping and sliding on the polished wood floor. She skidded to a stop in front of Tasha’s closet, dropped to the ground, and started rummaging.