GRATIFICATION (Desire Never Dies)

by Clara Grace Walker

  She stared straight ahead, her eyes fixated on the building in front of them. “He’ll close down the bar if that’s what he’s being paid to do.”

  “State liquor officials don’t get paid to shut down bars, Maggie. They only get paid to investigate them.”

  She continued staring at the building. “When they’re being paid by the State, that’s true. But what if this guy’s on someone else’s payroll?”

  So that’s what she was worried about. Now that she had voiced the concern aloud, he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out sooner. Up until now he’d been assuming the shut down was just some routine, temporary thing that would be easily cleared up with a few moments of conversation. “You think the Clarkes paid this man to show up here and find some reason to shut the place down?”

  She opened her door before answering. “Don’t you think it’s a little coincidental he shows up here the day the story about the charity ball appeared in the paper? And only a few hours afterward no less?”

  “It is. But who knows? Maybe he was just hoping to catch a glimpse of someone famous. Or maybe even snag an invite for himself in exchange for opening the place back up.” Preston wasn’t sure he believed that scenario himself, but he hoped it was somehow true.

  He followed her out of the car, and as soon as he caught up to her, took her hand. The walk across the parking lot was brief, but seemed to take forever. He felt her anxiety. And felt helpless to do anything to ease it.

  Inside the bar, everything appeared eerily normal. People sat at tables, eating and drinking. A few people were at the bar. Talk and laughter could be heard, while waiters and waitresses jostled through the place carrying trays of glassware and dishes. The only hint at all something was out of place was the balding man in the dark suit, sitting at the farthest end of the bar. He had a pad of paper sitting in front of him that he tapped with a ballpoint pen. Clearly, he wasn’t looking for a good time tonight.

  Tracy stood to his right, saying something to him in a hushed voice. Maggie headed straight for the pair, tugging Preston along with her. He pulse beat palpably through her warm, moist palms. It made him wish she would trust him just a little bit more.

  The bald man in the suit looked up when they approached. “May I help you?”

  “Perhaps I can be of help to you. I’m Maggie McKenzie, proprietor of this establishment.”

  Perfect. She handled him with calm authority.

  The man went back to tapping his pen on the paper. “I see. Then you should be aware Florida Statute 561.15 prohibits anyone from holding a liquor license who is in violation of the controlled substance laws of the State of Florida.”

  Her mouth dropped. “I can assure I am not in violation of any controlled substance laws.”

  “Really? Then you should also be aware I found this in your storage room.” He produced a joint, half-smoked and in a sealed baggie.

  “Maggie, I am so sorry.” Tracy fell apart at once, tears already rolling down her face. “I don’t know how that got there. I swear to God it wasn’t there when I opened up this afternoon.”

  “It’s all right, Tracy.” She kept her voice low and soothing, and patted her friend on the arm. “I have every confidence in you.”

  Her resilience never failed to inspire Preston. No matter what got thrown at her, she always managed to keep her composure.

  She turned now to the inspector, engaging him head-on. “I don’t believe you’ve shown me your credentials, Sir. I presume you’ve brought them with you.”

  He cleared his throat and stammered something unintelligible. Evidently he’d expected her to crumble like Tracy had. Preston had to suppress a chuckle. Boy, was this sap ever in for a surprise.

  The inspector fumbled his wallet from his back pocket, nearly dropping it before finally securing it in his grasp and opening it up to reveal his photo next to a very official-looking license. “Here you are. You see. I’m Chief of the Southern Region of the Bureau of Law Enforcement for the ABT. That’s the, uh, Division of Alcoholic Beverages and Tobacco, in case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t,” Maggie answered. She glanced at the identification, still looking unimpressed. “Okay, Mr. DeSantis. Now that you’ve properly identified yourself, could you please explain to me what you were doing here in the first place?”

  “As I’m sure has been explained to you…” He pronounced the words soundly. “…I’m just finishing up all of the necessary paperwork to close these premises down.”

  “On what grounds?” She continued to stare at him, unsmiling. “Because you allegedly found something, the origins of which are completely unknown? I really don’t see how that alone gives you the authority to close down my bar.”

  “Miss McKenzie, I am empowered with determining when emergency suspension of a liquor license is required. And, if I say this establishment is to be closed pending further investigation, then that’s exactly what is going to happen.”

  “Isn’t that a little like being presumed guilty until proven innocent?”

  DeSantis tightened his lips into something resembling a snarl. “You are not innocent, Miss McKenzie. I saw the violation with my own two eyes.”

  Tracy threw an accusing look at the man. “Maggie, I swear to God I was just in that room not fifteen minutes before he went in there and that thing was not in there.”

  Maggie glared at the man. “I’m sure that’s because it wasn’t until Mr. DeSantis went in for a look.”

  He jumped up from the chair. “Miss McKenzie, if you’re suggesting…”

  “What Miss McKenzie means is you are free to leave,” Preston cut in. “And once we’ve had a chance to consult with our lawyers, your superiors will be getting our statement.”

  DeSantis shut up instantly. What a wimp. Preston regarded him with total disrespect, and found himself agreeing with Maggie’s initial fear. The guy was definitely being paid off. No question. And no question as to who was making the payment.

  A macho, manly feeling beat through him as DeSantis put his wallet back in his pocket. He’d done it. He’d defended Maggie.

  She looked over at him in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected the gesture from him. But that was okay. Before this takeover deal was finished, and she moved to cut him out of her life again, he was going to show her she needed him after all.

  Chapter 30

  Maggie watched the half-bald weasel scamper out of her bar like the rodent he was, placing the Closed sign on her door behind him. At least Preston had gotten him to agree the patrons already inside the place would be allowed to finish their meals before leaving.

  She was so mad all she could do was picture Taralynn’s face with a red bull’s eye painted on her forehead. Little Miss Debutante had just made a very big mistake. Where she had merely disliked and disrespected Taralynn before, war was now soundly declared. And she was prepared to fight it to the bitter end.

  She turned back to Preston and sucked back every last tear that threatened to fall. “That ex-girlfriend of yours is going to pay. I hope you know this is half your fault for ever dating her in the first place.”

  “My fault?”

  He had the nerve to sound surprised. “That’s right. Your fault. Why on earth did you ever get involved with her? Is she seriously the type of person you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

  “Of course not. I just wanted to be able to show up at parties with a date once in a while. To be honest, I haven’t had any desire for more of a relationship than that since you left me.”

  He looked genuinely hurt. Sounded that way, too. Regret beat into her. Made her feel like she’d just slammed into a wall. She hated to admit it, but there was a distinct possibility all those uncomfortable emotions she’d been feeling since he re-entered her life really did include jealousy.

  Good God, she didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want it to be true. What did it say for her if it was true? Had she actually made a mistake three years ago? She felt insecure and angry all at once.
>
  “I feel so terrible this happened, Maggie. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  The sound of Tracy’s voice intruded unexpectedly into her thoughts. Maggie looked over to where the kitchen door had just swung shut, where her friend had just come from the kitchen after briefing the wait staff on how to respond to any questions they might be asked. As bad as Maggie felt, she knew her friend felt even worse. Tracy had lived through a lifetime of being taught to blame herself for every bad that happened. It was a strong habit, and difficult to break. That was one of the things Maggie had learned from helping out in the domestic shelter.

  “It’s not your fault,” Maggie told her. “This would have happened no matter what. That man was paid to shut this bar down. He set that violation up himself, and I’m going to do everything in my power to prove it.”

  “Thank you,” Tracy mumbled. “I guess I’d better go tell the staff to start cleaning up.”

  She hurried away, leaving Maggie alone again with Preston. He’d been standing inches away from her ever since they got out of the car. Feeling the warmth roll off his body aroused her all the way to her toes. It may have been three years, but she still hadn’t forgotten how good it felt to melt beside him and right now the thought of being able to melt into someone’s arms and forget, at least for a while, what had suddenly happened to her life, was so tempting she wasn’t sure if she could resist.

  He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I don’t want you to worry about anything,” he said. “The Clarkes are not going to get away with this.”

  She snuggled closed to him, breathing in his scent, wishing to God they weren’t such an impossibility. “Preston, I’m sorry about pushing the Taralynn issue. You’ve been really great today, and you didn’t deserve that.”

  He looked down at her, gently stroking the hair at the side of her face. “You really think I’ve been great?”

  He leaned in closer, until their lips touched. Her heart stammered into overdrive. A moment that hung on the edge of eternity passed when their lips were just touching, their gazes locked together. And then he kissed her.

  Chapter 31

  Patrice checked herself one last time in the rearview mirror of her car. She had her hair cut, highlighted and styled at the salon, and had the roots touched up while she was at it. Her pantsuit was peach, the perfect shade for accentuating her tan. She’d tried out a new perfume today, too. With the money she was going to make off the folder she carried, she’d be back into the game big time. More than enough money to maintain her lifestyle for at least another year while she husband hunted.

  For a while, she’d considered investing the money in another movie or business venture, but with the previous bad luck she’d had in those types of dealings, she’d decided it was best to just stick with what she knew; how to please a man. That was one arena she’d never bombed in. She’d managed more than her share of lovers while still playing the role of surrogate mother to her ungrateful niece. And she figured she still had one last shot at snagging a man for the long haul before the ravages of time finally robbed her of her beauty once and for all.

  It was a shame, really, what her life had finally come to. She had turned down two marriage proposals while in her twenties. Both were modestly successful men with upper middle-class incomes, but neither could compete with the glamorous life she had lived while her brother was alive. She’d held out, playing the role of the McKenzie family matriarch, thinking Edgar would appreciate it more than their original agreement, and that she was bound to hook up with one of his ultra-wealthy friends. But time had slipped away and, despite no small number of dalliances, she had never settled into a marriage and family of her own.

  She’d been robbed.

  Edgar never had improved upon their agreement, despite the years of service she had given to him and his daughter. Her life really. And, before she knew it, her youth had fled.

  Looking good now required daily trips to the gym, weekly visits to the manicurist and monthly visits to the salon for her hair. Her diet consisted of bottles of water, salads and seafood. And, despite all her efforts, she figured she had a few more years at most before her beauty finally faded beyond all recognition.

  Life was many things, but kind was not one of them.

  She took a deep breath and got out of her fire red Corvette, smoothed down her clothes and made her way across the hotel parking lot. The day was already too hot, and she could feel her carefully-applied make-up melting on her face. Thank God for air conditioning. Having to meet Andy at this hotel, however, was still an inconvenience. There was no good reason why he couldn’t have simply come to her home.

  She really didn’t understand his reluctance. They could have had all the privacy they wanted.

  He’d explained, of course, how worried he was Marianne had put another P.I. on his tail, but Patrice didn’t see how being followed to a hotel was going to work any better for him than being followed to the home of a “business associate.”

  She entered the hotel lobby through revolving doors and glanced around. As expected, there was no sign of the old goat. She should have known when he gave her his room number on the phone he had no intention of being seen publicly with her.

  She took the opportunity to scrutinize her surroundings. Rich furnishings of brass and mahogany, accented with rose-colored carpeting and plush beige sofas gave the lobby an upscale feel. The air was cool inside and pleasantly fragranced with some type of floral air freshener. A few people milled about, but no lone males that could be considered potential dates.

  Life really wasn’t fair.

  The soothing sounds of a piano coming from the lounge down the hall provided easy listening for her as she made her way to the elevator banks. An old Sinatra tune reminded her of the days when she held the unquestioned title of Queen of Palm Beach. They were good days then. So much better than what her days had become since Edgar had died and her fortunes had evaporated into a quagmire of bad investments. All she wanted now were just a few of those days back. One last taste of the good life before she died.

  She rode the elevator up to the ninth floor in silence, forcing herself not to ruin her manicure by biting her nails. When she got to Andy’s room, she looked both ways down the hall to make sure no one was around to see her, and then knocked.

  “Patrice, my pet, it’s about time you got here.” Andy answered the door in a plaid bathrobe and matching slippers. The room inside reeked of cigar smoke. He opened the door to let her in, and held out his hand. “You got the list?”

  “Of course.” So much for courtesy. She handed him a file folder containing a list several dozen pages long. “And you have my money?”

  He chuckled. “I’d hate to be the person who tried to pull a fast one on you, Patrice. It’s right here. A nice mix of cash and cashier’s checks, just as you ordered.”

  She followed him over to the nightstand beside the bed, where a large manila envelope bulging to its seams had been placed. Her money. She took the envelope as soon as he handed it too her. Simply holding it in her hands brought a rush of relief. She opened the clasp and looked inside, not bothering to count, just thumbing through the slips of paper, mentally totaling the checks and bank drafts. Twenty of them, each one for nine thousand dollars. The rest in hundred dollar bills.

  Excitement caused a slight tremor in her hands, one she hoped Andy wouldn’t notice. One quarter of a million dollars. All hers. And tax free.

  She looked up at Andy, who’d been watching her inspect the envelope’s contents without comment. Damn bastard had to know how much the money meant to her. So what, she decided. Maybe a hot time in bed might earn her a bonus. Like the two-carat diamond earrings he’d bought her ten years ago when she’d particularly pleased him.

  He nodded at the envelope. “You satisfied it’s all there?”

  She gave him her brightest smile and tucked the money into her purse. “If there’s one thing you know how to do, Andy, it’s m
ake sure I’m satisfied.”

  He broke into a huge grin and took off his robe. “Patrice, you devil, you.”

  His naked body was beginning to show its senior years. The muscle tone that had, for so long, remained rock hard from daily workouts, had begun to soften. Age had crept up on him in the last few years, stealing away what had once been a fine male specimen to look at. Not that she minded. She and Andy went way back. Back to before her long stint as Maggie’s nursemaid even. She’d been fooling around with Andy on and off for the last twenty-five years or so, and there was a certain comfort in the familiarity between them. She knew what to expect from Andy, flaws and all, and she liked that.

  She counted herself lucky he still wanted to sleep with her. He certainly had enough money to sleep with any woman he wanted. Unbuttoning her blouse, she stripped down to her lace lingerie. “Sit right there,” she whispered and straddled his lap, facing him until her breasts were pressed just below his mouth. He smelled nice. Like after shave.

  He bit into temptation. Literally. Or rather, nipped at it, grazing his teeth over the fabric of her lacy brassiere. Immediately, he found her nipple. Possibly from memory. She arched her back, responding to the moist heat of his mouth, moving her hips against him to satisfy her growing lust. His lips found her other breast now, provoking a shudder of pleasure that made her move faster. His hand met her thighs as she moved, coaxing a damp desire from her body.

  “Andy,” she moaned. “It’s been far too long.”

  “How long, Patrice? For sex in general, I mean, not just with me.”

  She laughed. “I’ll bet it’s been a lot longer for me than for you.” It had, in fact, been almost three weeks. A psychiatrist she’d met at the last party she’d attended. But she’d never admit to any man he wasn’t her only current lover. No matter how obvious it was.