LIPSTICK ON HIS COLLAR

by Lipstick On His Collar

  "I'm sorry, Mrs. Faraday, but it wasn't my fault. Someone is, um, playing a prank on me, I think."

  "Harold Burroughs seems to think it's your fault. He's complaining about you and your hazards."

  "Really?" She hated causing problems for her neighbors.

  "Oh, and did you hear the news?" Irene continued.

  "What news?" Miranda was afraid to find out.

  "The Lattimers. Splitsville."

  "Splitsville?"

  "D-i-v-o-r-c-e. Roscoe in the travel agency told me Mrs. Lattimer booked a trip with—" she leaned forward "—another man."

  "Wow."

  "And then, the next day, Billy Bailey, their neighbor, heard Lenore and Lyle in a big shouting match."

  "That's too bad," Miranda said, shooting Nick a look. She had a pretty good idea who Lenore's mystery man was, or at least what he moaned like.

  "This place is a regular Peyton Place." Irene sounded deeply pleased.

  The elevator stopped at Mrs. Faraday's floor, but before she exited, she gave Nick a hard look. "Take better care of our Miranda, Mr. Ryder."

  "I'll try," he said.

  She pointed a bony finger at him. "Don't try. Do."

  As soon as the elevator door closed, Nick and Miranda burst out laughing.

  "Boy, I'd love to have been in the closet for the conversation at the Lattimers'," Miranda said.

  "Me, too." He grinned at her, seeming to forget the distance that had sprung up between them, then caught himself. "Anyway, hopefully, we'll find some answers in your apartment."

  Miranda expected to feel relief at being home. Instead, she felt scared. Her eyes flitted from place to place, watching for furtive movements, listening for skittering feet. "What if they didn't get all of them?" She turned to Nick, fear running like ice water down her body.

  "Sure they did. Come on. Hang tough." He jostled her with an arm around her shoulders.

  "You're right. I'm being a baby. They're just m-mice."

  "And I'm here," he said seriously. "I won't let any rodents get you." He pulled her into his arms.

  She felt his strength around her, his broad chest against hers, the thump of his heart. Then he squeezed her. "What am I going to do with you, Miranda?"

  Love me? But she couldn't say that. "Give me another chance, okay? I just got cranky back there."

  "I don't know if that's very smart," he said, but she saw he didn't want to give up just yet, either. Thank God. "Let's walk through the place and make sure all the mice are gone."

  She nodded, feeling foolish and grateful. They stopped first in the kitchen, where the cosmetics "bait" was missing from the counter. In its place was a note on Lilly's personal stationery. "I put your sample and the formula away. You shouldn't be so careless. I'll be at Chase corporate after class. Back about six."

  "Doesn't sound much like someone plotting to steal from me, does it?" she asked Nick.

  "We'll see."

  There were no mice in any of the ground-floor rooms, but Miranda's heart pounded as they headed up the stairs. When they reached her bedroom, Nick said, "I'll go in first." She stood in the doorway as he scanned the room then went into the bathroom. She heard running water.

  "Is everything okay?" she called.

  "Just a sec." His voice wavered as he moved.

  She couldn't stand being a wimp, so she forced herself to keep going. Her room looked as lovely as ever. Could there be mice under her beautiful bed? She shivered but forced herself forward.

  From the bathroom door, she watched Nick scrubbing the mirror. There were black smudges all over the place from the fingerprint powder the detectives had used, but she knew Nick wasn't on a cleaning frenzy. He was protecting her from seeing the scrawled threat. "Chase Beauty kills. Stop or we'll stop you." Again she shivered.

  "I've got it," he said with a last swipe. "All clear."

  "Thanks," she said to him, her gaze flying around the room, looking for balls of fur or pale tails. Nothing so far.

  "Why don't you get cleaned up while I call on the fingerprints, check the videotape and look around some," Nick said.

  Before she undressed for her shower, she left a phone message for Raul and the distributor. Neither would call back for a couple of hours.

  As soon as she stepped into the stream of hot water, Miranda felt better, more herself. Then she started thinking about Nick and how wonderful it would be to make love here, on her turf.

  They could take a break from the case for a couple of hours, couldn't they? She had to make up for how bratty she'd been over the dragonfly incident. She'd make it special enough that Nick would never want to make love anywhere else.

  Nick headed for Lilly's rooms, trying to put Miranda out of his mind. Sure he wanted her—she got to him more than any woman ever had—but that little incident this morning was a warning he'd better heed. Before he got in too deep, went blind like he had with Debbie. Miranda wasn't Debbie, but she was close enough. And he might be falling for her, but that wouldn't make up for their differences. They might as well be from different species.

  From here on out, he was just helping her with the case. No sleeping with her. What happened on his boat was a special occasion, as they'd agreed.

  Nick let himself into Lilly's rooms with Miranda's key and headed straight to the desk where Lilly had sat the day he interviewed her. The little drawers held office supplies, a birthday card from her mother in Tucson, some bills and other paperwork. The pen she'd fiddled with two days ago when he'd interviewed her lay across a tablet of notepaper. Hermosa Inn, was the logo on the pen's red barrel. By the look of things, she'd been writing a letter. The unfinished letter was the only disorder in the room. He was about to check the trash can for anything of interest when he noticed the desk blotter seemed uneven.

  He lifted it and hit the jackpot. A folder with a series of brochures, fact sheets, and what looked like financial statements about three cosmetics companies he'd heard Miranda mention. Beauty by Evan, Mother Nature's Own and Elite Looks.

  So Lilly was looking into the competition. That didn't automatically condemn her, but why hide the folder unless she intended to jump ship?

  He put the folder under his arm to show to Miranda and left the room. In the hallway, he heard music playing, caught the scent of roses and saw that the hall was strewn with rose petals.

  He followed the trail to Miranda's bedroom, which had been darkened except for flickering light from clumps of candles—red, gold, black and brown. Soft jazz played and the air smelled of roses mixed with some other flowers, vanilla and spices. The trail of rose petals led to the bed where Miranda lay.

  And lie she did—on her side in a suggestive pose, wearing a white underthing of stretchy lace, transparent except for leafy vines. Leaves cupped her pink nipples and masked her pubic area. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair was soft and loose around her face. She'd put on makeup, but not too much. The total effect was of incredibly erotic innocence. She was trying to seduce him.

  And it was working.

  His capacity to think went south and his vow to not make love to her again evaporated. Lust pounded through him and all he wanted was to rip the lace thing off and put his hands all over her. Now.

  The only thing he could force out was something lame. "What's up?" Besides him, of course.

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I thought we might finish what we started before the insect world intervened." She rubbed her hand across the rose-colored bedspread. "Lots more room here."

  He could object, of course. But Miranda threw herself into everything she did, and if she was intent on seducing him, well, who was he to fight her? What could one more time hurt? Or, looking at her like that, maybe two or three more times?

  "Great idea." He dropped the folder onto her bureau for later consideration, locked the bedroom door in case Lilly returned, then came toward her, yanking his clothes off as he moved.

  "I poured you a bath if you'd like to freshen up," she murmured.
/>   "If you think I'd let a bath come between me and you looking like that, forget it."

  For just a second, seeing how predatory Nick looked, Miranda wondered if she'd gotten in over her head. What if she couldn't keep up with him? What if she disappointed him? She was making up this sex-kitten stuff as she went along.

  Then his mouth took hers, and it felt perfect and familiar, and she knew it would be fine. His fingers traced the edge of her teddy, slipped under and touched her. She practically exploded at the contact. Very fine.

  "You are so hot," Nick murmured in her ear, his tongue teasing its edge. "I can feel how ready you are for me."

  She nodded against his mouth, finding him with one hand.

  He groaned. "I want inside you."

  "Pretty please?" she teased. She slid away from him, kneeled, untied the ribbon that held the bottom of her teddy together and climbed over him. Slowly, gently, she slid onto him. She could do this—be sexy and alluring. She tossed back her hair and looked down at him, feeling a little silly.

  But the look on his face—pure heat—told her she was doing it exactly right. He reached up to grasp her breasts, then pushed himself deeper into her until she gasped and bucked, more and more. Their climax was intense and seemed to go on forever. When it was over, she sagged into his shoulder, panting.

  "Miranda," he whispered in her ear.

  "Don't ask what you're going to do with me. If you haven't figured it out yet, I can't help you."

  "Uh-uh. I know exactly what to do with you."

  He sat up, swung her into his arms and carried her into the bathroom, where she'd filled the whirlpool tub with aromatic jasmine and ylang-ylang, an aphrodisiac combination.

  The water was still warm.

  A half hour later, resting from their aquatic labors, Nick rubbed soap leisurely across Miranda's chest.

  "I think you've gotten that part of me plenty clean."

  "If you're going to do a job, I believe in doing it right."

  "Evidently."

  "This is nice," he said on a sigh, letting the soap slip from his fingers into the water.

  "My world offers certain advantages, don't you think?"

  "The biggest being that you're in it."

  Looking into his face, she felt an intense warmth well up from deep within her. She'd never felt this before, but she knew what it was. Had longed for it all her life. It was love. She was in love with Nick.

  "Nick, I—" The feeling was so strong she almost blurted it out. At the last second she caught herself. "Enjoy you," she finished. That was stupid, but it was the only thing she could come up with.

  "Me, too."

  But did he mean that, or could he mean love, too? She couldn't tell, and she didn't have the nerve to ask him straight out. She needed more time with him, that was certain, to explore this new feeling. "I know we said on the boat that it was a special occasion, but I was thinking…"

  "That this is a special occasion, too?"

  She nodded.

  He scooted forward, his legs on either side of hers, and tugged her torso against his. "Making love to you is a special occasion anytime, anywhere." He kissed her gently.

  "I feel the same way," she breathed into his ear.

  He leaned away from her. "You're okay when you're not whining about bugs or telling me how to investigate something."

  "Hold on a minute—"

  "Calm down. I'm joking. I think we make a pretty good team. In the sack anyway."

  "What should we do? About that, I mean?"

  He frowned, figuring. "I'm heading for the Coast, like I said."

  "Sure, sure," she said, turning to rest her cheek on his chest, partly to hide her disappointment.

  "But there's nothing says I have to leave right away."

  "Really?" She sat up, a goofy grin spreading from ear to ear.

  "Let's just see what happens," he said, and then he kissed her, tender and slow.

  Things were just getting interesting when Nick gasped, abruptly jerked up and dumped her underwater, sending a tsunami over the edge of the tub.

  She pushed up and coughed. "Are you trying to drown me?"

  "Just needed to move, okay?" he said, looking past her shoulder.

  "What?" She turned to look.

  "Don't—"

  But she'd seen it. A mouse, its nose twitching, looked down at them from the edge of the sink.

  "Don't scream. I'll get it," he said. He lunged out of the tub, tried to grab the mouse, slid on the black marble and hit the floor with a fleshy smack. His head clunked—luckily not hard—on the side of the tub.

  "Ow!" He grabbed his head, then his ankle.

  "Are you okay?" she asked.

  "Fine," he said through gritted teeth.

  Meanwhile, that twerpy mouse just sat there, laughing at them.

  That did it. Impulse seized Miranda and she grabbed the ceramic potpourri bowl off the counter, emptied it of dried flowers and slammed it over the mouse.

  "Gotcha!" She turned to Nick in triumph. "I caught it."

  "Terrific," Nick said, but he looked preoccupied and he was standing up on his hurt ankle.

  "Wait a minute," she said. "You need ice on that."

  "I'm fine," Nick said, limping into the bedroom, drying himself as he went.

  "Where are you going?"

  "I've got to check something," he said, hopping on his good foot while he dragged shorts onto his still-damp body.

  "Wait a minute and I'll come with you."

  "Just relax. I'll be back." He waved her away.

  Flabbergasted at his sudden change in mood, Miranda stood there, naked and dripping, watching him limp quickly down the hall.

  Nick didn't feel a bit of pain as he hobbled back to Lilly's rooms. He had something. He knew it. And it just might solve Miranda's mystery. When his head had hit the tub, he'd seen a flash of red with streaks of gold. Red he recognized as the same shade he'd seen on the Hermosa Inn pen in Lilly's office and one more place—the glittery matchbook with which Theo Chase had lit his cigarette out on the Chase Beauty corporate terrace.

  Lilly and Miranda's brother had been to the same hotel. And not to write letters or smoke cigarettes, either, he was sure. There was something between them besides Miranda, and he had to find out what. He went back to Lilly's desk. She'd been writing a letter. To whom and about what?

  He ran his fingers over the surface of the notepaper. If he shaded a pencil over the indentations, he'd be able to decipher it. But he didn't need to do that because he found two discarded letters balled-up in Lilly's wastepaper basket, the second of which was the more complete.

  Darling Theo:

  We can't go on this way. Naturally Better Than Nature is Miranda's entire life. And mine. When Miranda finds out what's going on, I—

  So that was it. Lilly and Miranda's brother had cooked up this scheme and now Lilly was having second thoughts. He felt a low simmer in his blood. Thinking of Miranda being betrayed by her brother and her assistant made him want to hit someone. Them.

  He would have to tell Miranda, but not until he was absolutely sure. He wouldn't shatter her faith in two people she trusted unless he had absolute proof. And he knew just where to get it—Chase Beauty, where, he realized, glancing at his watch, Lilly and Theo might still be together. Lilly had said she'd be there until six.

  He limped back to Miranda's room, where she'd just put on one of those lacy bras she favored. "I've got to go," he said. "I think I've got a line on solving this thing. Stay here. I'll be back in a bit."

  "I'm almost dressed. I want to go, too." She snatched some lacy panties and hopped as she tried to slip her legs in them. Damn, she looked good.

  "I won't be long."

  "But—"

  "If Lilly comes back, don't say anything, but keep her here." Not waiting for her reply, Nick limped down the stairs, his ankle aching. As he reached the bottom, Miranda's phone rang.

  It was one of the detectives with an ID on the fingerprints. Thad Tims
. A petty thief with a lengthy rap sheet. He wrote the name down. Once the police pulled him in, Nick would find out how he was connected to Lilly and Theo. They must have hired him to scare her. In the meantime, he'd go to the source of the crime.

  "Nick," Miranda called to him from the top of the stairs, standing there in Victoria's best secrets. "Take the crutches. They're in the entryway closet."

  He started to wave her away.

  "RICE—rest, ice, compression and elevation, remember? You need to keep your weight off it."

  She put her hands on her hips. "Take the crutches."

  "Okay, okay," he said, getting them from the closet. He tucked them under his arms. "You happy?"

  She nodded, her face bright with a smile that warmed his heart.

  He headed out to finish his job. The thought of how hurt Miranda would be when he told her what he knew made his throat tighten. But she'd asked him to solve the case. And he had. He didn't hide from the truth about people. Neither could she. He'd break it to her as gently as possible.

  Wait a minute. Miranda frowned at herself. She should have insisted on going with Nick. She should be there when he pursued whatever lead he'd discovered. Instead, she'd let him tell her to wait here without arguing. What was happening to her?

  Nick. And love. That's what was happening to her. She was floating on air because Nick had said he'd stay. For a while at least. That had made her dreamy and disoriented.

  Even worse, she didn't feel that sorry about leaving things up to him. Maybe it was bad to let her personal life override her professional dedication, but couldn't she have both? Work she loved and a man she loved, too?

  Did Nick love her? Very possibly. Or close to it. He was delaying his escape to the Pacific for her. Maybe he'd stay for good. He'd claimed to want freedom, but maybe he'd just been burned-out, wounded by his failed marriage and his near-death experience on the job.

  Maybe she was dreaming. Love was powerful, but she knew too little about it to count on it. Oddly, the thought gave her a little shiver of relief.

  What she could count on was her work. And there was plenty of that. She'd barely gotten started in the lab when she heard the front door open. "Nick?"