by Tawny Weber
Diego knew the feeling.
“We’ll catch her,” the princess offered. “I promise, we’ll haul her back before she does any damage.”
“She headed for the park. She’ll probably go straight for the gazebo. I’ll get her before she can haul any decorations off. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it,” Neal said, his words conciliatory, despite the flash of anger in his eyes. He brushed a quick kiss on the princess’s cheek, then sprinted down the steps and across the street without glancing left or right. Arrogance? Or that small-town lack of basic caution necessary to survive in the city?
“I’m so sorry,” Jade’s sister said again. “I wanted to have this done before you got home. I knew you were upset after the break-in. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”
“I know, sweetie,” Jade said with a sigh, shoving her hand through her hair so the ends danced every which way. “I appreciate you trying to help. Especially since laundry’s your least favorite chore. But you know how unreasonable everyone gets about Persephone this time of year. I’m going to be hearing complaints for days now.”
“People overreact,” the princess dismissed. “Just because she rearranges a few displays, they get all bent out of shape.”
Diego arched a brow at the mangled tinsel and broken gingerbread display. Rearranges?
“She’s only bad in December,” Jade excused with a worried look at the park. Then she glanced at Diego and winced. “I’m so sorry. Detective, this is my sister Beryl. Berry, this is Detective Sandoval. He’s the panty cop.”
“Nice,” Diego said with a grin. He glanced at the black silk panties caught on a bush and quit smiling. His body tightened as he considered how many ways he’d like to conduct an in-depth investigation of Jade’s underwear.
Oblivious, the younger woman gave Diego a quick smile, then cast a nervous look toward the park where her boyfriend had disappeared. She bit her lip, before giving her sister a beseeching look. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go help him. I’m afraid Persephone might be hard to catch. She doesn’t like Neal very much for some reason.”
With that and another quick hug for Jade, she rushed toward the park. As if her sister’s departure had let the air out of her, Jade seemed to deflate. Her smile dropped, her shoulders sank and her sigh was pure stress.
“Your cat isn’t the friendly sort?” he asked, not because he cared but because he hated seeing that look of distress in her eyes again.
“Actually she is, usually. There’s something about this time of year, though,” Jade explained. “She was a feral I rescued when she was three months old. In January it’ll be four years. I don’t know what she went through over Christmas, but it seems to have made a lasting impression and she’s been trying to dish out paybacks ever since.”
Diego laughed.
“You wanted to ask me some questions, though, not to hear about my crazy cat,” she remembered with a wince. “Let’s go inside and I’ll make you some hot cocoa and you can do whatever you need to do. I’ll deal with this when we’re finished.”
Diego shook his head. “You go ahead and deal with this. It’s probably better that you clean it up as quick as you can. I’ll catch up with you later.”
She glanced at the stocking waving in the chilly air and grimaced. “You’re probably right. But I want to help you, too.”
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Diego repeated, leaving before he could change his mind.
Later, when and where there were plenty of other people around. Diego didn’t believe in fate or luck, but he wasn’t going to spit in the face of a chance to sidestep disaster.
And the pretty blonde with the sexy underwear?
She had disaster written all over her. At least, disaster for his peace of mind, possibly his career, and definitely the fit of his jeans.
* * *
FOUR HOURS LATER, Diego’s head pounded with tension. He poked at his temple with a stiff finger. His hands ached. In part from the cold weather—apparently a visiting cop in a small town was a suspicious character who had to stand on the porch for interviews. In part from spending the last four hours clenching his fists to keep from lashing out.
Standing outside the café, he debated getting a cup of coffee, then figured he needed to walk off the frustration instead of fueling it with caffeine.
He’d been stonewalled. No two ways about it.
And it was frustrating the hell out of him. You’d think he’d be used to it. He figured people slamming doors in his face, shooting at him and, on one memorable occasion, trying to run him over were all part of the job description. But this was different. These weren’t criminals, they were nice, run-of-the-mill citizens. Who wouldn’t talk to him.
Diego shoved his fists in the pockets of his jacket as two more of those nice, run-of-the-mill citizens crossed to the other side of the street when he passed. Like, what? He had out-of-towner cooties? Or maybe they thought he’d shoot them. Typical small-town close-mindedness, he sneered. The same kind he’d seen over and over as a kid.
And just like when he’d been a kid, he was stuck here until some official deemed him good enough to move on.
Diego gritted his teeth so hard, he hoped this Podunk town had a dentist. He was gonna need one before the end of the week.
How the hell was he supposed to get information if he had to wear kid gloves? He wasn’t a kid-glove kind of cop, dammit. He felt both blindfolded and hamstrung. There was no way he was going to make progress playing nice.
He kicked a rock out of his path. A woman on the opposite sidewalk gathered her kid close, as if he’d kick it next.
He was seriously starting to hate this town.
Except for the sexy pixie. For her, he had some solid nonhate feelings brewing. But like his tried-and-true methods of solving a case, she was off-limits. Because she didn’t just play nice, she was nice.
He wondered how deep that layer of nice went. Was it a surface thing? Or was she nice through and through? He had a feeling—mostly brought on by his body’s intense reaction to her—that there was something naughty going on beneath the surface.
The question was...how naughty?
“Naked before the third date” naughty?
Or “whipped-cream bikini” naughty?
He thought about the pair of tiny black silk panties he’d fondled twice now. His body stirred, hardening in salute to the memory. A woman who wore black silk with tiny red roses? She might be convinced to try on some whipped cream.
Grinning at the prospect, Diego was a heartbeat away from convincing himself that pursuing the sexy pixie wouldn’t have any effect on his ability to solve this case. Or more important, to solve it by Kinnison’s stupid rules.
“Detective.”
Glancing over his shoulder at the greeting, Diego slowed his pace to a halt. Then, with a barely discernible sigh, he came to attention.
“Sir,” Diego greeted when the older man reached his side. “I’d planned to find you this afternoon to discuss the case.”
“Great minds, and all that,” Mayor Applebaum said, gesturing for Diego to continue his walk. The older man took control of the direction, though, heading for the park. And, Diego noted as they passed a few more wary citizens, some semblance of privacy.
“So, how is your investigation going?” the mayor asked as they reached the grassy area.
Diego debated. Then, with his usual tact, he stated, “It’s sucking. Sir.”
Applebaum’s lips twitched as he gave a slow, contemplative nod. He looked around as if the bench choices were of prime importance before settling himself on the one in the sunshine.
And waited.
Diego sighed. Realizing he had no choice, he dropped to the bench, too.
“I’ve had a few phone calls this morning, Detective.”
Shit. He’d been on hi
s best behavior. He hadn’t intimidated a single person. So why were they whining?
“Sir?”
“People are a little put out that I’d bring an investigator in for what most see as a joke.”
“Yep.” Diego nodded. “I can understand their position.” Applebaum didn’t bother to hold back the grin this time.
“Still, it’s my decision to make. I want this solved. The prank element doesn’t bother me. But there is a meanness involved here, son. Oh, sure, a lot of folks think it’s innocent enough. But for the ones with their unmentionables hanging in the diner window...? They aren’t so dismissive.”
Diego thought about Jade’s face when she’d seen the mess made of her bedroom. Prank or not, the mayor was right. Mean—and malicious.
“The problem is,” the mayor continued, pulling out a pipe and tapping it against his knee but not lighting it, “you’re an outsider. Whether embarrassed or dismissive, it’s hard for people to talk to an outsider.”
“You knew you’d be bringing in an outsider when you called Kinnison.”
“Yep. I did.”
The older man looked toward the center of the park, with its big white gazebo and prettily decorated Christmas tree. Then he gave Diego a big, friendly smile.
Diego felt as if he was looking down the barrel of a gun, not sure if it was loaded or not.
“So here’s what I’m thinking. You want to get this case solved, go on home before the holidays and get on with your life.”
All right, except for the holidays part.
“With the break-in and destruction at Jade’s, the situation is escalating. So the sooner this case is solved, the better for my town.”
And...?
“To accomplish that, I’ve come to the conclusion that you need a little help.”
A little help. Diego shook his head. Apparently the good mayor didn’t believe in pointing a weapon unless it was loaded.
“Not someone telling you how to do your job,” Applebaum assured him. “Not someone like me who everyone will be on their best behavior with. That’s not likely to help you much.”
Diego narrowed his eyes. The old guy was smarter than he looked.
“What you need is an intermediary. Someone the townspeople like and respect. Someone who can put them at their ease, as well as give you insight into whether or not they’re being truthful.”
“I don’t need people at ease,” Diego said between clenched teeth. “Nor do I need someone to tell me something I’ve been trained to observe myself.”
“’Course you don’t.” The mayor tapped the pipe against his knee again before bringing it to his mouth and making a show of lighting it. A couple puffs, and he gave Diego a stern look through the sweetly scented smoke. “But it’d make me feel a whole lot better.”
Trapped and screwed over, all at the same time. Diego wondered if this was how prisoners felt when the doors of the cell slammed closed.
* * *
RESTLESS, JADE SLAMMED one book after the other into a stack, taking great satisfaction at the noise. She’d played on her favorite website for a while, putting outfit after virtual outfit together. Until she’d realized all the outfits were designed for seducing a very uninterested detective. Then playing stylist had lost its appeal.
What good was Santa if he sent her the perfect man for perfect sex, but that man wasn’t into her? It was like wrapping a remote-control race car in bright, fancy paper and putting the biggest, brightest bow on top. And not including the remote.
Typical to her life, she supposed. She glanced around and sighed. Just like this job. The library was nice enough. One of the prettiest buildings in Diablo Glen. Solid oak graced not only the floors, but the gleaming rows of tall bookcases and a dozen cozy tables. The chairs were the kind a person could sink into for hours, and the art on the walls were originals. Shooting off four of the walls in the octagonal room were arched halls, each labeled with a hand-carved wooden sign.
It was rich and warm and welcoming.
And felt like a prison.
“My Humps” rang out, pulling Jade from her funk.
At least the prison came with phone privileges. She snickered as she answered her cell.
Ten minutes later, she tossed the phone back in her purse and stared at the pages of notes she’d made.
“Good news, dear?”
“I’m not sure.” Frowning, Jade shrugged before glancing toward her mom. “It was the administrative office at the community college. They invited me to do a series of guest lectures next semester.”
Opal clapped her hands together, beaming with pride as she wheeled toward her daughter. “Darling, that’s wonderful.”
“It’d only be six classes, not a full load,” Jade said, trying to decide if she was excited or not. “I’d have to send a course description and syllabus for approval.”
Was this a good thing? A part of her was doing handstands. But another part was settling in for a deep pout, since this was yet more evidence that she wasn’t living in a big city, working as a stylist to the rich and famous.
“A description and syllabus shouldn’t be difficult. Would you use the empowerment workshops you’ve already taught here, or come up with something new?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Jade said, staring at, but not seeing, the counter.
She loved the workshops here, and it’d be fun to take the message wider. Empowerment Through Fashion. Know Yourself, Know Your Style. Tried-and-True: Wardrobe Staples and Attitude Standards. It was a good opportunity. A chance to really expand her workshops and reach a lot more people.
Possibly a whole new career direction.
But she already had enough issues feeling like a fraud here in her small hometown. Would a bunch of people want to pay good money—at a college, no less—to listen to a woman who wanted to be a fashion stylist, but wasn’t empowered enough to go for the dream?
“I’ll have to think about it,” she finally said, her throat so tight it was hard to get out the words. “It’s no biggie either way.”
Opal gave her a look that said she clearly saw the flashing chicken sign over her daughter’s head. But she let it pass. She’d been letting a lot of things pass lately, Jade realized. She frowned at her mother, noticing that she was not only wearing a new shade of lipstick, but one of her best day dresses that Opal usually saved for church. Before Jade could ask what was up, though, her mother gave her watch a pointed look.
“My shift is finished and I’m meeting...um, someone for lunch,” Opal said quickly, an attractive wash of pink coloring her cheeks and making Jade frown. What was her mother up to?
“Marion is due in an hour to relieve you. You go home when she gets here, Jade. Don’t let her guilt you into thinking that taking a couple of hours off this morning is something you have to make up for by staying late.”
If it was anyone but Marion, Jade might have.
Before she could make a snarky remark, or her mother could offer up any more warnings, the doors opened.
“Home in an hour,” Opal said quietly as she turned her scooter toward the door to leave. The quiet whir of the motor stopped short when she saw who’d come in. A quick glance back at her daughter showed she was struggling, but after a deep breath, she continued toward the exit.
“Thank you,” she murmured to the man holding the heavy oak door wide.
Jade waited until the doors shut behind her mother before letting the excitement building in her tummy spiral through the rest of her body.
“Good afternoon, Detective Sandoval. What a pleasure. What brings you back my way so soon?” Her question was innocent. The low, husky, flirtatious tone was anything but. She leaned her forearms on the high counter, tilting her head to one side, liking the way the bright afternoon light streamed through the library windows, the watercol
or effect of the stained glass surrounding him in an ethereal glow.
Maybe Santa hadn’t done her wrong?
Then again, the good detective was standing at the steps by the door, not budging an inch closer. A gift she had to work for? Hmm, she considered. Well, for one that fine, she was willing to expend a little effort.
“I just spoke with the mayor,” Diego said, not looking as if it’d been a fun conversation. Jade was surprised. Applebaum had a way about him that people usually enjoyed.
“Do tell?” she invited, figuring he wouldn’t have mentioned it if there wasn’t something in the conversation that pertained to her. The detective just wasn’t the sharing type.
“He seems to think that the investigation would go smoother, faster, if I had an intermediary.”
Eyes rounding, Jade shot her brows up. She pressed her lips together to keep from grinning. Her toes wiggled in her boots, but she managed to still them as well. Nope, no happy dancing. It might change his clearly teetering mind.
“Does he?” she said as soon as she was sure she wouldn’t sound as though she was gloating. “What sort of intermediary?”
The look he shot her said he knew exactly what her toes were doing and he wasn’t happy about it. Still, he moved the rest of the way into the room, stopping just a foot from the counter. Must be in appreciation for her attempted restraint.
“Oh, you know. Someone to introduce me around, lay the groundwork so people will talk to me,” he said stiffly, throwing her words back at her. “Someone who can gauge whether people are telling me facts or fiction.”
A giggle escaped before Jade could stop it. Her hand flew to her mouth, but it was too late. His frown turned into a scowl. But she saw the light in his dark eyes. Oh, yeah, that was amusement in those sexy depths. She was sure of it.
“I swear,” she said, holding up one hand as if taking an oath, “I didn’t call him. After seeing my lingerie take the outdoor tour, I forgot about it.”
Which was pretty much the truth. Well, she’d mentioned it in passing to her mom, but only as a setup to the “coming home to see her panties dangling from the eaves” story.