“Russia?” Sharon said, leaning forward. “Ooh, the KGB, cosmonauts, vodka and James Bond—how exciting. I’ve always wanted to visit Russia.”
“James Bond?” Maisy whispered, slanting Norman an incredulous look. “She’s not only a slut, she’s a dopey slut.”
“Who cares,” Norman said, “as long as we manage to ship the dopey slut off across the ocean.” Maisy nodded and returned her attention to Sharon and Big Willy.
“You a fan of them double-oh-seven spy movies, darlin’?”
“I’ve seen every one of them, with each of the Bonds,” Sharon gushed. “I have From Russia with Love on DVD and I’ve watched it dozens of times.”
“A woman after my own heart,” Big Willy said. “I knew I liked you for more than just that curvy little body of yours. You know… it’s gonna be mighty lonely out there in that great big ramblin’ palace they’re settin’ me up in.”
“Palace?” The way Sharon’s ears perked Maisy could have sworn she was watching a cartoon. “You’re going to be living in a palace?”
“Uh-huh. One of them rich commie fellas I do business with over there is giftin’ me with one of his sprawlin’ palaces, complete with servants and all the usual fancy-shmancy stuff that goes along with livin’ in a castle.”
“Castle…” Sharon said, her gaze intense.
“They tell me it looks like somethin’ right out of the movies, with all sorts of gold trim, and them pricey antique carpets and lots of paintin’s by famous artists. Ain’t many people in the USSR with that kinda money.”
“USSR,” Maisy whispered to Norman with a roll of the eyes.
“Is that so?” Sharon responded with a hungry, almost wild look in her eyes. She sat forward, clearly doing her damnedest to look seductive and alluring. “Will, uh, your wife be making the move to the USSR with you?”
Maisy giggled at that.
“No, ma’am. I’m not married. I’m sorry to say it’s just gonna be me all by my lonesome.”
Sharon glanced at her watch and licked her lips. “What do you say we finish this fascinating discussion over drinks and dinner, Big Willy?” She touched his knee as she rose from her chair.
“I’d like to hear everything about you and your trip. And that fabulous Russian palace. Then we can iron out all the details on the marketing of your investment properties. When we’re finished we can head on back to my place for a little,” she arched an eyebrow, “dessert, if you like.” Her voice was low and husky as she issued an unmistakable invitation with her eyes.
Big Willy rose from his chair. “Why I’d like that right fine, ma’am.” As he tipped his Stetson, his gaze trailed over Sharon’s body. “It’d be my honor and privilege to sample some of your…dessert.” He winked.
“Yes!” Norman yanked his fist down through the air toward his chest. His boisterous exclamation was so loud, Sharon and Big Willy turned to see what was going on. Pulling his fedora down over his eyes, Norman lifted the collar of his trench coat, cupping it around his face.
“Careful, you big lunkhead,” Maisy whispered. “You almost gave us away on that one.”
“I know. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Did you hear that, Maisy? Sharon’s panting over Wilson and his millions and he’s hot for that much-used little body of hers. Don’tcha just love it?”
Maisy couldn’t help but feel enthused. “Norman, if this scheme of yours actually works, I promise I’ll cancel all the contracts I put out on your life.”
“You better hold me back, Maisy, because I swear to God, I could just jump up and do the dance of joy right here and now.” His body twitched and his toes started tapping.
Maisy’s hand flew to Norman’s shoulder to keep him from rising. “Are you insane? Sit still until they’re out of here.” Maisy watched as Big Willy offered his arm and Sharon wrapped herself around it with a syrupy smile.
As they ambled out of the office, Sharon glanced Maisy’s way.
“Yikes! Duck, Norman, they’re leaving and she’s looking at us.” She and Norman buried their faces in a pair of multiple listing books as Big Willy and Sharon strolled past the office they sat in.
When the sound of their voices diminished, Maisy peeked up to see them walk out the door and into his big stretch limo in the parking lot.
“Okay, we’re clear,” Norman said. “Let’s blow this place.” He and Maisy scrambled to get out of their chairs. “But first…” A grinning Norman proceeded to indulge in a joyful little jig, only to have Joe Fletcher, who must have been keeping an eagle-eye on his prospective new clients, interrupt.
“Would that merry little step indicate that you may have found a house to your liking, Mr. Smith?” The grinning salesman stood with his arm resting on the doorjamb, blocking their immediate exit.
“Uh, no, not yet,” a startled Norman said in his deep accent. “I was…eh…I was just performing the traditional Yugoslavian house hunting dance to increase our chances of finding a house soon.”
Maisy dropped her head and groaned.
“I see,” Joe said, eyeing the pair doubtfully. “Well if you’ll allow me to get a little bit of additional information from you, I’m certain I can help you narrow your search. Before you know it you and Mrs. Smith will be doing a Yugoslavian celebration dance—if there is such a thing.” He cleared his throat and smiled.
Uttering a gasp, Maisy yanked frantically at the elbow of Norman’s trench coat. She motioned to the door at the reception area with her thumb. Norman looked up to see Keller Fitch walking into the real estate office.
“Whoa!” Norman said, loud enough to make Joe jump. “We’ll be in touch, Joe. Gotta go now.” The salesman eyed Norman curiously as his accent slipped and his voice raised an octave.
Keller placed a large carton on the receptionist’s desk and stood there chatting for a few minutes. He looked over toward Norman and Maisy and waved. Maisy felt her heart lurch out of her throat and vault clear across the floor. She’d just have to come back and find it later because right now she had to get the hell out of there.
Leaning in close to Norman, she whispered, “He recognized us. What are we going to do?” She knew she should be running for the back door, but the sight of Keller in tight, faded blue jeans, a gray flannel shirt and black leather jacket was just too delicious a sight to pass up.
She’d never seen him in anything but a suit and tie—except for when she’d seen him naked, that is. Not that he didn’t look positively scrumptious all dressed up, but there’s just something special about a gorgeous hunk of man outfitted in tight denim. She sighed.
Joe Fletcher returned Keller’s wave. “Hey, Keller, good to see you.”
“Stay cool,” Norman said out of the side of his mouth. “He wasn’t waving at us. We’re safe.”
As Keller walked toward them, Norman and Maisy clutched each other and muffled a joint “Oh shit.” Keller extended his hand to the salesman who pumped it enthusiastically.
“I was in the area, so I thought I’d drop off this week’s wine order myself,” Keller said. “Your clients happy with their personalized bottles of wine, Joe?” Glancing at Norman and Maisy, Keller offered a polite nod. Maisy felt her gut clench when he furrowed his brow and eyed the pair a second time as they worked to shield themselves from his curious gaze.
“You bet,” Joe said. “Great success. Oh, I’m sorry. Keller, these are my new clients, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Boris and Natasha Smith,” he elucidated with a smile. “Mr. Fitch owns the esteemed Keller’s Cellars winery out in Naperville. He supplies us with our most popular, personalized gifts for clients.”
Norman stuck out his hand. “How do you do,” he said in his deep, strangled accent, keeping his head low.
“Pleasure…Boris.” Keller smiled. “Nice to meet you, uh…Natasha, wasn’t it?” He bent to get a better look at the woman with the long black hair, blood-red lips and oversized dark glasses. Maisy raised the collar of her trench coat and dipped her head to avoid his scrutiny.
“Pleasur
e,” she said in her best affected sort-of-Yugoslavian accent. Keller’s presence overwhelmed her senses and her libido went into high gear. Heated skin, trickling pussy, on-guard clit… In a mere three or four steps she could be pressing herself against him, breathing in his scent, capturing his mouth with her crimson lips, wildly running her ruby-nailed fingers over his torso and that great ass of his.
It would be so easy. He’d have no idea who she was. She’d just be some anonymous, sex-crazed, Yugoslavian woman who felt compelled to do a little groping, tasting and explicit experimenting with the denim-clad American hunk.
Maisy blinked. Mazel Lynn, you are definitely losing it.
“You just missed your sister by a couple of minutes,” Joe said.
“Yeah, that’s what I hear.” Keller shrugged. “No big deal. I didn’t come here to see her anyway.” He smiled and extended his hand. “Take care, Joe.”
“You too, Keller.”
Before turning to leave, Keller said, “Nice meeting you…Boris and Natasha.” Tugging their collars up and hunching, Norman and Maisy mumbled and nodded in return, then breathed audible sighs of relief as Keller finally left the building.
Joe handed Norman and Maisy one of his cards. “Just give me a call any time and I’ll be happy to do whatever I can to help you find your dream home.”
“Sure thing.” Norman nodded and pumped the salesman’s hand. Grabbing Maisy by the wrist, he stealthily crept toward the main door. “I don’t see Keller’s limo out there, do you?”
Maisy craned her neck to scan the parking lot. “Uh-uh.”
“Okay, looks like the coast is clear,” Norman whispered. “Let’s make a run for it.” He pushed the door open and the pair raced toward Norman’s Cadillac.
“Wow, Norman. That was way too close for comfort.”
“I know, I know. But we made it.” Fishing the keys from his pocket, he pointed and clicked his car’s unlocking mechanism. But before they could get in, they heard another car door slam and saw Keller walking toward them.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Maisy said, struggling to open the passenger side door.
“Get in the damn car,” Norman said, opening the driver’s side door.
Maisy yanked but the door didn’t open. “You didn’t unlock my side, you big jerk,” she said, banging on the window. By the time Norman unlocked it, it was too late. Keller stood before her, smirking, with his arms folded across his big broad chest.
“Oh shit,” she mumbled under her breath as she lowered her head and tugged the long strands of black hair in front of her face.
Keller looked through the windshield and crooked his finger, motioning for Norman to get out of the car. Once Norman was standing, Keller grinned.
“Well, well, well. Fancy running into you again…Boris and Natasha.” He planted his tongue firmly in his cheek as he gave the squirrelly pair a once-over.
Norman cleared his throat. “What can I do for you, Mr. Fitch?” He still maintained his deep accent.
Keller shook his head and laughed. “You can tell me what in the hell you two characters are up to and what exactly is going on around here, that’s what.” Plucking something off Norman’s overcoat, Keller handed it to him. “Lose something, Boris?”
As Norman looked down at the article Keller handed him, he let loose with a volley of nervous, staccato laughter and Maisy knew they were dead. She glanced over at her partner in crime, cringing when she saw Norman had lost half his fake mustache and Keller had just returned it. Searching in vain for a crack in the asphalt big enough to sink into, Maisy groaned.
“And you,” Keller said, wagging a finger as he stepped close to Maisy.
Cloaking herself against his gaze, she valiantly answered in her deep accent, “Vhat do you vhant, Meester Feetch?”
“Playtime’s over, Sarah Bernhardt.” He snatched the wig from Maisy’s head with one hand and removed her dark glasses with the other. Holding the long, dangly black mass at arm’s length, Keller laughed. “I just know there’s got to be a good explanation for this.”
With a sheepish grin, Maisy shrugged. “Not necessarily.”
“Did you know right away?” Norman said, peeling off the other half of his mustache then removing his dark glasses and forties-style fedora.
“Not right off the bat,” Keller admitted. “But I had a pretty strong hunch something was going on. I don’t run into too many people named Boris and Natasha on my journeys.” Maisy cringed and buried her head in her hands.
“The peach-colored Cadillac with the distinctive vanity plates was kind of a dead giveaway though.” Keller sidled up to the front of Norman’s car and pointed to the license plate that read PERSIMN. “Not too easy to be incognito riding around in that, Norman.”
Maisy shot Norman a lethal look as he hit the palm of his hand against his forehead and groaned.
“Trust me, you said,” Maisy grumbled to Norman. “I should have known better.” She heaved a sigh and grabbed her wig back from Keller’s grasp.
“Believe it or not, Keller, there really is a perfectly logical explanation for all of this,” Norman said, nervously licking his lips.
“Oh, I’m quite sure there is,” Keller said, smirking. “And I’d love to hear all about it.”
“Gee, and I wish I had the time to tell you,” Norman said, glancing at his watch. “But I’ve got the rep from a new cruise line coming in to meet with me so I’ve got to be off.” He flashed a smile as he opened his car door and scooted inside.
“Right, I forgot all about that,” Maisy said, scrambling to open the passenger side door. The distinct click of the door lock from inside the car made her eyes grow wide. “Norman? What in the hell do you think you’re doing? Let me in.” She jiggled the door handle and knocked against the glass.
Letting his window down just enough to be heard, Norman said, “Maisy, you can’t come into the office looking like that. Your hair looks atrocious.”
“He’s got a point there,” Keller said, chuckling.
Maisy’s hand whipped up to her head and she felt all the hair clips she’d used to pin up her hair so the wig would fit smoothly. She bent to see her reflection in the door’s window and gasped. She couldn’t believe it. Here she was, standing in front of the man of her dreams, looking like a red-lipped, half-crazed, flat-headed transvestite with a smudged fake beauty spot over her lip.
Ripping the clips from her hair, she said, “Norman, you can’t just leave me here like this. Open this door and let me in. You can drop me off at home.”
“Sorry, sweetie, but I just don’t have the time.” He started the car and allowed it to creep forward.
“Norman, what are you talking about? I only live two miles from here. And besides, my car is back at the office. How am I supposed to get home without my car?”
“In that case, I’m sure Keller won’t mind dropping you off at home, would you, Keller?”
Maisy’s jaw dropped and she resumed her banging on the car window. “Don’t you do this to me, Norman Stanley. I mean it. I’m warning you.”
Keller gave a gallant smile and bow. “It would be my pleasure to escort this vision of loveliness home, Norman.” He glanced at Maisy and smirked, bending to the ground to retrieve two more of the clips that had just fallen from her hair.
Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, Maisy grumbled an expletive and buried her head in her hands. “This is not happening. This is not happening!”
“Good, Keller, then Maisy can fill you in on all the details about our little costumed drama.” The Cadillac pulled out a little farther.
“What?! Norman!” Maisy screeched. “You sonuvabitch.”
Norman shook his head and tsked. “You know, you really should have more respect for your boss, darling. Oh, and don’t worry about making it back to the office this afternoon. Just take the rest of the day off.” Beaming a bright smile, Norman snapped the brim of his fedora and winked.
“Toodles,” he said, waving his fingers through the open w
indow crack before he closed it and headed out of the parking lot.
“Norman, you come back here this instant, do you hear me? Norman!” Waving the wig in the air in a sorry attempt to catch Norman’s attention as she ran after his car, Maisy stamped her foot, snapping off her high heel in the process.
“Great, just what I needed,” she said, retrieving the two-inch heel from the ground. She growled in exasperation as her boss turned out of the parking lot, waved and took off. “Oooh, of all the conniving, low-down, miserable, sneaky, underhanded…”
“Yeah, Norman’s definitely a character all right.” Keller chuckled.
Enraged enough to spit fire, Maisy turned on her one good heel to face Keller. “I suppose you think this is really funny.”
Keller scratched his head. “As a matter of fact…”
“Oh, you men are all alike,” Maisy said as she hobbled past him.
“Just where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m walking home.”
“Looking like that?”
Her curls half hanging and half still clipped to her head, Maisy stopped dead in her tracks. In one hand she held her wig—which was so tangled and bedraggled now it looked more like road-kill—and in the other hand she carried her broken heel and spy-worthy dark glasses. Her shoulders slumped and her head drooped. She looked like hell and she knew it.
“Come on, Maisy,” Keller coaxed, “quit being so stubborn and let me take you home.”
Heaving a melodious sigh, Maisy turned back to Keller. “All right, you may drive me home.”
“Thank you, your highness.” Keller engaged in another bow. “My carriage awaits.” He motioned to the little red sports car.
Maisy held her chin proudly as she tottered back toward Keller with as much grace as she could muster under the circumstances.
Chapter Eighteen
After giving directions to her townhouse, Maisy busied herself with discreetly trying to remove the rest of the hair clips from what was now a tangled mass.
“Okay, so what’s the story, princess?” Shifting into gear, Keller deftly piloted the snazzy red Porsche out of the parking lot and into traffic.
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