Undercover Passion

by Raye Morgan

  “A hell of a lot of words saying basically nothing,” Daniel murmured dispassionately, starting toward a chair in the back row that had suddenly opened up.

  Unfortunately, a middle-aged blond woman had started toward the same chair at the same time and they collided.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  But instead of recoiling, the woman clung to his arm, searching his face.

  “What was that you were saying?” she asked in a low voice, staring up at him.

  He gave her a rueful smile. “I don’t think I’d better repeat it,” he said. “I might get lynched.”

  She nodded, biting her lip. “I thought I heard you right,” she whispered after someone shushed them both.

  He gestured toward the chair. “You go ahead and take the seat. I’d rather stand anyway.”

  “No, no.” She shook her head, looking toward the stage with sad blue eyes that struck him strongly. “You take it. I don’t think I’ll stay.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I’m thinking of going out and getting myself a gallon of chocolate mint ice cream, anyway. And I plan to eat it very slowly.”

  They both pulled back into the shadows to get away from the angry looks.

  “My name’s Daniel O’Callahan,” he said, offering his hand.

  “Carrie Martin,” she responded, shaking it and looking up at him with a direct gaze.

  “I take it you’re not here for the powerful weight maintenance program?” he said, curious about her. “Not under the spell?”

  “The spell?”

  “Of Dr. Richie.”

  She laughed shortly. “No. I may be a thick-headed, stubborn fool but I did learn my lesson. Too bad it had to be the hard way.”

  “So then, what are you here for?”

  She looked at him for a long moment, almost as though weighing the consequences of telling him the truth. Then she punted, shrugging. “I’m just watching.”

  He shrugged, too. “So am I.”

  She sighed, looking back at the doctor at the podium. “I’m watching my past and throwing away my future,” she murmured.

  He didn’t answer. He had a feeling that wasn’t really meant for him to hear, and sure enough, she turned and began to wander away with only a slight smile over her shoulder in taking her leave. But he had a sense he would be seeing her again. She was the only other person in the room immune to the sales pitch. From what she’d said, he would assume that she knew something the rest didn’t. That she’d actually had dealings with Dr. Richie in the past. And he had an even stronger intuition that she would provide him with some missing parts of the puzzle eventually.

  He had an urge to follow her, try to get information out of her right now, but he resisted it. Some things had to be left to develop in their own time. Pushing too hard could ruin everything. He’d learned that by bitter experience time and time again.

  He turned his attention back to the meeting at hand. Dr. Richie was still extolling the wonders of his new oil.

  “Unwanted pounds seem to evaporate in just a few hours,” he was saying. “Of course, a strict regimen of diet and exercise must accompany the use of the oil for any extended effects to be felt, but that becomes second nature once the results start coming in. You won’t believe how easy it all becomes.”

  “The proverbial free lunch,” Daniel murmured.

  “Shhh,” a large lady in a velour jumpsuit told him sternly.

  “Sorry,” he said, nodding his apology and reminding himself to keep his opinions quiet. You never knew what a room full of diet-crazed folk might be pushed to if they heard the truth. His wide mouth twisted into something resembling a smile. Snake oil was snake oil, no matter how pretty the package it came in.

  “You have the power inside you,” the voice from the front boomed, edged with a fine emotion now. “All you have to do is make the decision. Make it in your heart. And once that decision is made, be proud of it. Be ready to tell the world.”

  Abby was going down along the side of the room now and Daniel strained to see what she was doing. Ah. She was passing out those brochures she had been so sure would improve the image of the Healthy Living Clinic. He stepped to the side, placing himself right in her path, and when she looked up and saw him he expected her eyes to flash with anger, a continuation of the animosity they seemed to strike so easily between them. In fact, he was looking forward to it.

  “Hi,” he said softly, not wanting to be shushed again. “Do I get one?”

  She hesitated for another beat, her eyes wide as she gazed into his. She looked prettier than ever, her cheeks rosy with the intensity of the evening, her eyes sparkling in the artificial light. And suddenly, to his surprise, she smiled. Her smile was large and genuine, white teeth flashing, dimples twinkling.

  “Of course,” she said, handing him one. And then she turned, starting down the next row.

  He stood where he was, staring after her, knocked silly. That smile had paralyzed him. He felt as if there was an anvil on his chest and suddenly realized he’d forgotten to breathe. Gulping in a quick hit of air, he got the lungs working again. But his gaze followed her up and down the aisles. He couldn’t look away.

  Wow. He’d never known a smile to make such a direct hit to his solar plexus before. And as he gathered his senses together again, he frowned fiercely, just to remind himself that he was a coldhearted cop. None of this touchy-feely nonsense for him. He was made of sterner stuff.

  Wasn’t he?

  Things were going great. Abby was walking on air. Everyone was so excited about the new program Dr. Richie had developed. She was really glad she’d joined the clinic and was working to promote such a great entrée to a healthy lifestyle for so many people.

  “You’re an angel,” one woman told her, clutching her newly acquired jar of NoWait to her chest. “I thank you people with all my heart.”

  “You’re an excellent candidate for this sort of treatment, Mrs. Halliday,” Abby told her earnestly, leaning against the counter set up at the back of the assembly room.

  The place was crowded with people trying to get into the close circle around Dr. Richie, while those ready to go ahead and try the oil were lined up to see one of the two assistants signing clients to contracts. There were so many of these that Abby was handling the overflow.

  “I know you’ll do well. Now don’t forget your schedule of appointments. We want to keep close watch on you, just to be sure your body is reacting as we expect it to. We don’t take any chances with your health.”

  Mrs. Halliday toddled off and Abby looked up expectantly at the next person in line. When she saw Daniel O’Callahan standing there, she really wasn’t surprised. For reasons she wasn’t sure she wanted to analyze, she’d been expecting him.

  “Oh, it’s you.”

  Funny. She knew she’d been annoyed at him earlier. In fact, she vaguely remembered saying some pretty mean things to him. But right now she couldn’t draw up any of that animosity, and she didn’t want to anyway. She almost felt as though he was an old friend at this point. Someone she treasured.

  Maybe it was because she was feeling so good about this job that it was spilling over into the rest of her life. She had a new attitude, as they said in the song. Her outlook had changed for the better.

  Or maybe it was that he seemed different, too. Not quite so hard. Not quite so imposing. In fact, he looked sort of approachable with his soft white shirt under a light sports coat. And definitely hunk-like.

  “Yeah. It’s me.” He didn’t smile and his gaze was watchful. “The proverbial bad penny.” He gave her a quizzical look, as though he didn’t know quite what to expect from her and was ready to accept the worst. “So how are you tonight?”

  She smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy all over. For whatever reason she’d pretty much decided there was something she very much liked about this man. “I’m really, really feeling good.”

  He nodded warily. “That’s nice. You look like you’re happy.”

  Like a woman in love.

&
nbsp; The words flashed into his head but he shut them out. They were words he didn’t want to think or hear. He glanced at Dr. Richie and then back at Abby, wondering how far things had gone with these two. The rumors about the doctor and his casual way with women were almost as rampant as the tales of his successes as a great promoter. All in all he was the sort of man a smart woman like Abby should stay away from. Unfortunately, it was so often that very sort of man they seemed to flock to. He’d seen it over and over, in every walk of life. The scam artists prospered in all levels of society.

  “You look really handsome tonight,” she was saying, then she looked surprised, as though she hadn’t realized she was prepared to say such a thing.

  The remark startled him, too.

  “No kidding?”

  He frowned, studying her like a mystery that could be solved with enough effort. But maybe there was nothing strange here. Maybe she was playing him for a sucker. Maybe she was just setting him up for complete humiliation. Could be.

  “So,” he said carefully, watching her closely. “If you’re planning to hit me, do it where it won’t show, okay?” He raised an eyebrow, only half kidding. “That’s the ticket. Leave no marks.”

  “Hit you?” She emitted a sudden, gurgling laugh. “Why would I hit you?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Because you…sort of hate my guts, I guess. I mean, that was the impression I had. Earlier.” He waited with a questioning look.

  But she was waving away such a preposterous notion. “I don’t hate anybody. That’s just plain silly.”

  “Uh-huh.” He was still searching her eyes for answers. “Call me silly, then, because I’m pretty sure I remember you warning me to stay away from you.”

  “And yet, here you are.”

  “Yeah, here I are.”

  Her unblinking gaze met his. “Why?”

  “Why?” Yeah, why? It was a good question. “I guess because you smiled at me. Sort of threw me off my stride. I had to come over and find out what you’re up to.”

  She produced those dimples again, smiling broadly. “Right now I’m ‘up to’ getting a drink.”

  Rising from her chair, she motioned for the people behind him to go back to the other lines. There weren’t many people left, so she didn’t feel very guilty about it.

  “They have tea and juice in the reception room. Want to come with me?”

  “Why not?”

  He walked beside her, but he was watching the knots of people still hanging around, most hoping to get a chance to speak to Dr. Richie. They were like groupies, for Pete’s sake. He wanted to tell them all to grow up. Or at least start using their brains. How could so many people fall for this stuff?

  “Quite a turnout,” he mentioned as he stood back to let her pass through the doorway first.

  “Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” She was fairly shimmering with happiness.

  “Great for the bottom line, I suppose,” he said cynically.

  “No.” She turned and frowned at him, truly outraged by such a thought. “Great for the well-being of all who came. Great for the community. Surely you can see all the good that Dr. Richie is doing here.”

  “Oh. Of course.” He managed to keep most of the sarcasm from leaking into his voice. “I’ve got a lot of respect for the guy.” Respect for his ability to con a whole roomful of people—and one impressionable young woman.

  But that answer seemed to satisfy her and she led him to the table where cups of punch were being poured. She finished off one cup and reached for another.

  “I am so thirsty,” she said. “Promoting healthy living can be dry work.”

  “No doubt.” He took a few sips from his own cup, watching her over the rim. Hard to believe he’d found her a bit ordinary at first. Right now she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He was going to have to remind himself often that she was a source, not a potential date. And he wasn’t sure his “self” was going to listen.

  “So did you match me up with a counselor yet?”

  “What?” She looked blank for a moment, then remembered. “Oh, that. No. To tell you the truth, I didn’t think you would show up tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  She gave him a look. “Let’s face it. You’re not really the type. And it’s obvious you don’t have a weight problem. Tonight is all about the weight issue.”

  “So it seems to be.”

  She frowned, examining him in a new way. “So why are you here?”

  He shrugged. He was used to supplying cover reasons for his activities. He did it all the time in his line of work. He’d been ready to do exactly that tonight. But now, face to face with Abby, he hated to add any more lies to the list he was working with.

  “Just curious about what’s going on,” he said evasively.

  Her eyes narrowed and she scanned him with earnest intensity. “No,” she said. “That’s not it at all.”

  He blinked. “Okay. But listen, I really enjoyed the presentation and—”

  “Don’t try to change the subject.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “I’ll bet I can guess what your game is. You’re an investigative journalist, aren’t you? Are you with the paper? Doing a piece on us?”

  He hesitated. Was that a good thing? She didn’t look outraged by it. Maybe because she thought of Dr. Richie as a savior of mankind and didn’t realize an investigative journalist would be digging up dirt about the guy. If there was any dirt in his background. Somehow he thought it was a good bet that there was.

  She wouldn’t like that. But she wouldn’t like knowing he was with the Portland police department either. He was walking a line here. How much could he tell her?

  “Well, not exactly,” he said hesitantly. “But you might say I’m investigating the whole healthy living movement and—”

  Her smile was triumphant. “I should have guessed. Of course.” She leaned close and spoke in a hushed voice, as though realizing he had to maintain a cover in order to do his job. “You’re doing a feature for a magazine, aren’t you? What magazine is it?”

  He grinned uncomfortably. “Look, I’m not at liberty to release the name of the organization I’m working for at this time. They’re very strict about anonymity until we get the details nailed down.”

  She smiled happily. “I’ll bet I can guess who it is. I’ve done an interview with City Style magazine before. That’s the one, isn’t it?”

  He smiled and shrugged, knowing he was as good as lying to her but unable to think of any way around it at the moment.

  She came even closer so she could speak more softly, smiling up at him with a new excitement, so close that he could feel the heat from her body, smell the scent from her hair.

  “Come on. You can tell me. Ask for anything. What do you want?”

  For just a second, he thought the room had tilted. To his shock, he realized being this close to Abby was making him dizzy. Dizzy. What was it about this woman that did these strange things to him?

  But she wanted to know what she could do for him and he was about to tell her. He had to be careful. With his head buzzing like this, there was a risk he might be a bit too explicit. What if he told her that she turned him on and he would like to get to know her better and explore the possibilities? He would never say anything like that. But what if he did?

  It never happened. The woman behind him took that moment to stumble and try to catch her balance by throwing her hand into the middle of his back, jostling him forward and sending the juice in his cup right down the front of his snowy white shirt in a large purple splash.

  He guessed now he had the perfect reason to talk to her again.

  Four

  “Oh!” Abby cried out.

  “Hey,” Daniel said, sucking in his breath as the cold juice hit his skin.

  “I’m so sorry.” The young woman who’d caused the accident apologized, but melted into the crowd as Abby tried to dab at the purple stain with napkins.

  “That ain’t gonna do it,” a short, dum
py-looking elderly man told them both, shaking his head over the misbehavior of the young.

  Abby looked up, distracted but unfailingly polite. “Oh, hello. Wilbur Mason, isn’t it? Nice to see you.”

  “You better wash it fast or the shirt is ruined.”

  “He’s right,” Abby said despairingly.

  Daniel looked down. He wanted to say it was no big deal. He wanted to laugh it off, say “forget it,” but the stain was huge and it was ugly. Not to mention, cold.

  “Let’s go,” Abby said impulsively, grabbing his hand. “I know what to do.”

  Her hand was warm and smooth and he let her lead him out of the room. Hell, he would have let her lead him anywhere. It was becoming that kind of evening. The dim light, the music piped in along the hallway, the scent of gardenias coming in from the courtyard, the look of her, the feel of her hand—everything was conspiring to put him fully in the mood for…a little close contact. And when you came right down to it he didn’t get in that sort of mood all that often. He was usually too busy working.

  Hey, that was okay. He was working here. Being with Abby was all part of the deal.

  They made their way down one hallway and around a corner.

  “I get it,” he said cynically. “We’re just going to walk around the building until the shirt dries on its own.”

  She threw him a look and laughed, then pointed out a women’s restroom.

  “In here,” she said.

  He balked, digging in his heels. “Whoa. I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t worry.” She looked amused by his reticence. “This isn’t the one we’re using for the seminar. We’re far enough away, I don’t think anyone will come here. And just in case they do, I’ll put out the ‘out of order’ sign.”