by Gina LaManna
“No papers at the table,” his dad continued. “No serving dessert without coffee.”
“No laptops, uninvited guests, or sweatpants,” Dane said, the two men beginning to chuckle as they continued the list. “No red wine when fish is present and absolutely no martinis after cocktail hour.”
Amanda Clark cleared her throat then, and both of the men in her life looked toward her end of the table like the apocalypse had arrived—all wide eyes, parted lips, terrified expressions. “No more business talk. End of the conversation.”
Both Clark men nodded, bowed their heads, and dug into the appetizers.
I inhaled a piece of grilled eggplant, mostly to keep from snorting in laughter. Then Mrs. Dulcet appeared with the rest of dinner, and apparently, if business wasn’t to be discussed at dinner, there was nothing else to say. Three courses passed without so much as a whisper, save for one quick and instantly regretted pass the salt.
By the time dessert arrived, the room had sat in silence for so long my ears were ringing. I found myself wishing time had turned back and I hadn’t been invited to dinner. It now made complete sense why Lucy Dulcet had considered it a favor to warn me away. But no, I’d had to come and witness this whole miserable shebang for myself.
The minute dessert wine was poured, the two Clark men leapt at each other’s throats with talk of legality, contracts, and other jargon that I had no hope of understanding. Apparently, discussion of business was allowed over dessert.
While they talked, I drank a little bit too much wine, mostly because my hands were bored, and I needed something to do with my fingers. Pouring wine worked well, so I let the fuzziness suck me in and drown out the conversation. I’d already polished off my personal-sized cake, and I doubted asking for another would look good on my resume.
As the men talked, Amanda looked me over critically and offered a tight smile. “You have nice skin.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I like your dress.”
“Thank you.”
That was the end of our conversation.
An hour and a half later, I’d made a good dent on the cookie platter. I was a little too tipsy to care about Amanda’s judgmental stares as I swirled the last dregs of my cappuccino with the cookie.
When Mrs. Dulcet arrived sometime after my coffee had disappeared and asked if we needed more of anything, Amanda shook her head and gave a pointed look in my direction. “I think we’re done with the biscotti.”
I froze, my hand halfway to the plate. “Yes, thanks. I’m full.”
Mrs. Dulcet hid any expression well as she gathered the plate from my hands and vanished into the kitchen. Somewhere, that must have signified the end of dessert because shortly after, Amanda stood and fixed her gaze on Dane.
“I’m ready to retire to my room. We are welcome to stay here, aren’t we?”
“Mother, don’t be ridiculous,” Dane said. “The bedroom has been prepared for your arrival. I gave the maids the list of items you required.”
“At least the help has done something around this place,” she said under her breath. “Goodnight, Lola. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
I wasn’t sure whether to bow or curtsy or kiss her feet, so I did some combination of a nod and smile. Thankfully, Dane realized it for the cry of help that it was and came around the table to rest a hand on my back.
“I’m going to walk Lola out,” he said. “Mrs. Dulcet will show you and father to your room. Goodnight, mother.”
Mrs. Dulcet burst through the doorway, all smiles and chipperness despite her long day and longer evening working. “Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Clark.”
Dane led me in the opposite direction, through the kitchen where I waved to a few familiar staff members. They all gave me looks of sympathy, and I doled out appreciative nods to each of them. I was low enough on the totem pole to be considered friendly with the staff, and for that, I was grateful.
“Well, that was sure something,” I said when Dane and I reached the front hall. “I’m really sorry if I ruined your dinner. I probably shouldn’t have been there.”
“I asked you to stay with me,” Dane said, raising a hand to brush the fine baby hairs back from my forehead. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. And thanking you for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just microwaving a burrito at home anyway. So really, it was my pleasure. The food was delicious and the company was... well, interesting.”
“I thought you said you had plans.”
“When do I ever have plans?” I paused a second, confused. Then flushed as I realized my earlier lie. “Oh, right. I did have plans—with my burrito and a glass of wine. Alone at home.”
“Those aren’t plans.”
“Well, I didn’t want you to feel like you had to invite me,” I said. “So, I fibbed a little. I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to intrude on your family dinner.”
“Lola, I asked you to dinner tonight because I wanted you here. Earlier...that was a miscommunication. Please trust that I do as I like. If I hadn’t wanted you to stay, I wouldn’t have asked you.”
I bowed my head, my hands coming up to rest on his chest. “Okay.”
His hands reached for me, one of them coming to rest on my cheek, the other slipping around my back. “I promise.”
“Well then,” I ventured, our lips hovering an inch apart. “What do you want to do right now?”
“Kiss you.”
“Oh.”
The word was a breath. Dane cut me off halfway through, closing the space between us with a hard, fast kiss. An underlying intensity burned between us, the sure product of the overwhelming emotions that’d barreled through us since this morning.
His hand moved from my cheek to the nape of my neck and he pressed me closer, the scent of him all encompassing. Fresh, sharp—I breathed him in like the scent of cinnamon rolls and melted into his arms.
“What is this!” Amanda Clark tried to stifle a gasp of surprise and failed as she came around the corner and caught us making out like high schoolers. “Dane Clark, how could you?!”
Dane and I stepped back, though I couldn’t help but notice his hand sliding down my back, coming to land just above my waist. It stayed there as he met his mother’s gaze. Then another silence launched like an attack, and I buckled against it. I leaned against Dane’s side, soaking up his warmth like a shield.
“Um,” I murmured when Dane didn’t seem inclined to speak. “I should probably be going.”
“Yes, I think you should. What has this place turned into? A brothel?” Amanda huffed. “Honestly, Dane. You have women coming at all hours of the night?”
“She’s not wom-en, she’s one woman,” Dane said, his voice surprisingly calm. “And you can call her Lola, as she’s mentioned.”
“Lola,” she said the name like a poison. Clunky, filled with distaste. “Well then, goodnight. Lucy, have Randall call Anders, will you? See if he has space for us to stay while we’re in town because I haven’t felt welcomed here.”
Mrs. Dulcet scurried forward and nodded. “I’ll have Mr. Clark contact his brother right away, Mrs. Clark.”
“Let me walk you out.” Dane’s fingers tightened their grip on my back as he guided me to the front steps where Semi was waiting.
I could feel Amanda’s eyes on my back as I walked, as if she hoped I’d fall right off the plank and get eaten by sharks.
Dane passed me off to Semi after a light kiss on the forehead. “Make sure she gets home safe, will you?”
Semi nodded his big head, and then moved down to the black SUV to give us space.
“Goodnight, Lola,” Dane said, bringing his hands to rest on my shoulders. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you staying for dinner. If you’d like to stay over, you’re welcome here. You are always welcome.”
“It’s probably better if I go for now,” I said, though I couldn’t deny it felt nice that he’d asked. A happy warmth began in m
y stomach and brought a smile to my face. “Goodnight, Dane.”
He watched me until we got in the car. Then he raised his hand in a stoic wave before disappearing inside. The door stayed closed for one second before Mrs. Dulcet rushed out, a container in hand. “Semi!” she called, rapping her knuckles on the glass even as the car began to move. “Open the window.”
Semi rolled down the windows, and Mrs. Dulcet shoved the container into my hands.
“Desserts,” she said, gasping for air. “If I don’t send them with you, they’ll end up in the rubbish bin. Save them.”
I hugged the box tightly to my chest. “I’ll take good care of them,” I promised. “They’ll be gone by morning.”
Mrs. Dulcet winked. “Just don’t make yourself sick, or Mr. Clark will have my head.”
Chapter 6
“WHY DID YOU BRING US here?” Babs, short for Bernadette, the curviest and loudest of the Sunshine Sisters, leaned back against the water tower. She was also the most brilliant lawyer this side of the Rockies, and one giant bubble of energy and pink lipstick—when she wasn’t hungover. “The sun is barely up and my head hurts.”
“I told you to stop drinking wine before bed,” Annalise said. “It really affects your sleeping patterns.”
“I brought cookies!” I thrust the leftovers from the previous evening into the girls’ hands, then scooted a travel-tray full of cappuccinos toward the girls. “Thanks for meeting me here so early. I try not to take Emergency Meetings lightly.”
Emergency Meetings had been happening between the three of us ever since we’d learned how to climb. For a few months, the cops tried to kick us off our meeting place on the water tower, but our persistency won out. Now, people worried if we didn’t have at least one weekly gathering for the town to see—and not a soul to hear.
“I have news,” I said. “Huge news.”
“Is it about Mr. Clark?” Babs raised her eyebrow. “You didn’t tell us you had a date.”
“We didn’t,” I said. “Well, not a traditional date, anyway. I picked him up from the police station.”
Both girls froze. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, I might have laughed at their expressions. Babs had a cookie dunked halfway into her cup while Annalise’s dangling feet froze in the splits. Where Babs was the boisterous one, Annalise was our petite, anal-retentive gymnast. She might be a tad on the naïve side, but somehow, the three of us balanced each other out.
“What?” Annalise asked over the sound of Babs’s biscotti breaking in half and plopping into the coffee.
“I had this hot date with a burrito last night,” I said. “And halfway through burning every one of my taste buds, I got a phone call from Dane asking if I could meet him at the station with Semi. The authorities think he murdered someone—or at least, they were questioning him about it. A model he’s worked with on a few occasions named Andrea. I met her yesterday, briefly. She asked me to touch her new boobs.”
Babs shook her head. “Confused doesn’t even begin to explain what I’m feeling.”
“Let me start from the beginning,” I said, backing up to the moment I walked in on the photoshoot between Andrea and Dane. I continued the story up to, including, and through dinner, ending with the kiss that had led Mrs. Clark to declare the castle a brothel. “Then Mrs. Dulcet gave me these biscotti, and that’s the end of it.”
Babs and Annalise both looked shell-shocked. Rightfully so, since it sounded like I’d given them half the plot of a James Bond movie.
“So this kiss,” Babs said. “It was dreamy?”
“Is that all you care about?” Annalise elbowed her. “What about the poor girl who died? Did he do it, Lola?”
“Dane?” I asked, sharper than I’d intended. “Are you asking me if Dane murdered Andrea? Of course he didn’t!”
“You can’t deny that’s the first logical question,” Annalise said. “A woman was murdered. You’re dating the primary suspect. I want to know that you’re safe.”
“Not only are you dating him,” Babs pointed out, “but you’re working for him, too. Things are complicated. I can’t fault Annalise for asking the question we were all thinking.”
“I know Dane,” I said with a confidence that seemed flimsy when spoken aloud. “Okay, maybe I haven’t known him for years, but I know enough. He’d never hurt anyone like that.”
“He lacks social skills,” Annalise said. “Isn’t that a sign of a psychopath?”
I slammed my cup down a little too hard on the ledge. “Look, I called the two of you up here to ask for help. Not to accuse Dane of something he didn’t do. Plenty of people have already jumped aboard that train.”
“She’s just trying to protect you,” Babs said, resting her hand on mine. “She loves you, I love you, and we hope Dane loves you too. It doesn’t hurt to be safe, though, especially this early in the game.”
I blew out a long sigh. “Maybe you’re right.”
“You’re developing feelings for him!” Babs pointed out. “Of course you’re going to be on his side. You should be; it’s our job to ask the questions you can’t.”
“He didn’t do it,” I murmured. “I know it.”
“Then how can we help?” Babs asked. “What’s your plan going forward? Don’t bother lying. We know you have a plan, or you wouldn’t be up here talking to us and bribing us with coffees.”
I finally allowed a small smile as I warmed my hands around the coffee mug. “I want to find out more about the victim’s closest relationships. Husband, boyfriend, parents, siblings—anything we can find. Babs, can you help gather that information?”
She nodded. “Won’t take me long. I’ll do some research and call you this afternoon.”
Annalise looked expectantly at me.
“What?” I said. “Are you trying to convict Dane or clear his name?”
“I’m not going to apologize for asking the difficult questions.” She shook her head, her tight brown bun swaying with her smoothly executed movements. “I am trying to be sensible about this, but I’m here to help if you need.”
“Fine,” I said grudgingly. “Thank you.”
“You said this Andrea is a model?” Annalise asked, waiting for my nod before continuing. “Well, the entertainment community is a small one. I can ask around. I bet some of the performers have heard of her, and they might know the latest on her relationships. The industry is close-knit out here, and if she’s a local, I’ll hear something.”
“You guys are the best,” I said, a large weight dissolving from my chest. “Thank you for being there for me. I just needed to talk aloud—I know Dane is innocent, but it’s so much to wrap my brain around.”
“You know the rules of the water tower,” Babs said. “It’s a Judgement Free Zone. Up here, you say what you need, and we do what we can. End of story.”
“Girls!” Mrs. Fredericks called from below the water tower. “You have two minutes until the brownies are done. Better start climbing down or they’ll get so cold the ice cream won’t melt on them just how you like.”
“Are they special brownies?” Babs hollered back. “Like last time?”
“What, dear?” Mrs. Fredericks loved nothing more than to feed us during our emergency water tower sessions. “Did you say special? Of course they’re special—made with love!”
“You heard her,” Babs said. “Brownies are done, folks. Time to move out.”
BABS DROPPED ME OFF at the castle after we’d filled our tanks with Mrs. Fredericks’s specially made brownies with melted ice cream and a pop of cool whip. I was still full to the brim when I knocked on the castle’s front door.
While I waited for it to open, I adjusted my pale blue shades to perch on top of my head. I was proud of how well they matched my little pearly stud earrings, my new distressed pair of jeans, and my baby blue flats. I felt like spring in a Target catalogue—with better sunglasses.
“Hi, Mrs. Dulcet,” I said with a smile when the door opened. “Good morning. Thanks again for
the—”
“Come in, dear,” she said in a louder than necessary voice. “Let me take your things.”
I didn’t have anything to take, which made me frown with suspicion. Before I could ask what was wrong, I caught sight of the reason for Mrs. Dulcet’s strange behavior.
“Lola.” Amanda stood just inside the front hallway. On the floor next to her were two suitcases. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I said, trying not to sound optimistic at the sight of her prepared baggage. “Leaving so soon?”
Her eyes flashed. Luckily, Dane appeared in the doorway before she could snap a retort, a smile growing on his handsome face as he caught sight of me. “Good morning, Lola.”
“Good morning, Mr. Clark.”
“Oh, now it’s Mr. Clark, is it?” Amanda looked between her son and me. “Last night you seemed quite a bit...friendlier.”
Dane looked at her, then strode across the room and brushed a kiss against my cheek before resting a hand on my shoulder. I could’ve sworn Mrs. Dulcet nearly burst with excitement, her hands clasped across her chest.
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling the strange need to apologize. “I didn’t mean anything inappropriate yesterday evening.”
“Don’t apologize, Lola,” Dane said calmly. “You did nothing wrong. Mother, we discussed this last night. If you don’t like the way I run my household, you can stay somewhere else.”
“Dane! I’m your mother!”
“You’re welcome here as always. But if you don’t like what you see, you’re welcome to leave. Lola is a part of my life, and I’m sorry if that doesn’t please you. But it’s not changing.”
A second ago I’d been ready to run out of this house until that woman disappeared, but now, I sunk deeper into Dane’s body, warmth spreading from the very tips of his fingers straight to my core. As much as I hated coming between Dane and his family, the way he’d defended me to his own mother—the very powerful, elegant Mrs. Amanda Clark—melted me into a buttery mess.
“But—” Mrs. Clark’s eyes blazed as she tore her gaze away from her son, looking to me like I was the witch responsible for his ruin. “Randall get in here. It’s time for us to leave. Is the car ready, yet? Randall!”