Chapter Nine
“What worked in your favor was that Beth Stanley wasn’t willing to name the client she allegedly performed the sexual favors for that were mentioned in great detail in her statement. Do you want to know what she said she did?”
Mariah gave him her best death look. “No.”
Bill laughed. “I found it quite an entertaining read.”
“Don’t make me tell Abigail on you,” Mariah warned.
Grinning, Bill went back to his notes. “They accepted the meager financials we turned over and promised to keep them discreet. I told them if we saw anything leaked to any press that we’d be suing the city of Cincinnati and all of Hamilton County for defamation and slander without cause. I also told them that particular action was nothing compared to what I intended to do if they kept insisting on seeing a full client list. I told them to get their witness to cough up a real name and we’d cough up the records on that one client. At that point, they backed way off because I was being reasonable. Their witness is obviously not willing to go that far.”
“Because she’s lying through her scarlet harlot teeth,” Mariah said firmly.
Bill nodded. “And because I’m sure they had to advise her that perjury is very costly and can lead to jail time as well.”
Mariah let out the breath she’d been holding. “So? Is The Perfect Date off the hook again?”
“For now,” Bill said.
“Brilliant legal work.” Mariah slumped down and stretched out in Bill’s uncomfortable office chair so she could lean her head back. “Why am I not more relieved?”
Bill shuffled some papers, then got quiet. “I don’t know, Mariah. You tell me. Did something else happen?”
Mariah pulled herself back up to a rigid seated position. “Yes. Dan tracked me down at a Chinese restaurant two nights ago and insisted he wanted me back. He said he still loves me. Can you believe he had the nerve to say that after all he’s done to me?”
“Bullshit,” Bill said. “Abby and I saw him out to dinner with a woman just last night. She didn’t look like the photo of your client. This woman had short, bleached-out blonde hair and was not very well done even though she was wearing designer clothes from head to toe. From my appraiser days, I can also tell you she was also wearing a ruby necklace that probably cost more than the swimming pool I had installed last summer.”
“I don’t have the energy to care about what his relationship is to Beth Stanley or the new woman, but it doesn’t surprise me that he’s seeing someone. Dan made me go without sex for the last year we were still together, but I knew he wasn’t doing that himself. He was too relaxed when he came home. I’m going to be mad about the sex for a good long while.”
Bill chuckled. “Aren’t you even a little bit heartbroken over proof Dan is moving on?”
Mariah looked away, thought about it, and then shrugged. “Maybe I should be, but I’m not. I have a bigger problem.”
“How big?” Bill asked.
“Detective John Monroe big. He works with Dan—for Dan—whatever the case is. He came into the restaurant immediately after Dan left and urged me not to trust Dan. Then last night John shows up at the salad restaurant where I was having dinner alone. I don’t know if the man’s really protecting me like he says he is, or if he’s a new kind of stalker. Strangely, he wants me to do nothing about anything Dan is doing to me. Plus, he says I should trust him while I wait for him to come clean at some future time he’s refused to name. I don’t know what to think at this point.”
“Unless you’re the suspect of a criminal investigation, he’s in violation of your rights by not telling you why you’re being followed. If you’re in danger, you have a right to know. Now that you know he’s tailing you, he’s obligated to tell you why.” Bill held up a finger and turned to his computer. “Give me two minutes to look into the guy.”
For the seven minutes it actually took, Mariah waited, and felt guilty about what Bill was doing, which was stupid of her. John Monroe was obviously lying to her on a regular basis. He didn’t deserve her loyalty… did he?
“Huh,” Bill muttered softly, squinting at the screen as if not believing what he was reading.
Mariah put her hand over her mouth to keep from groaning in alarm, but maybe she should use both hands and cover her ears. From the look on Bill’s face, what her attorney was learning was pretty shocking.
“What?” she finally asked, bracing to hear the worst.
Bill clicked something on the keyboard, made the screen go dark, and then turned back to stare at her for a few moments. He cleared his throat, just like he did before delivering any bad news. Mariah groaned internally. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry Mariah… but I can’t tell you.”
“What? You’re kidding…”
“No. Telling you could jeopardize what John is doing.”
What she said as she rose from the seat would have made even Georgia Bates’s ears burn in embarrassment. She glared at Bill and turned to leave, stopping only when he laughed at her anger. “It’s not funny, Bill.”
“It is a little. Trust me that things are fine and true Detective Monroe. Do whatever he says,” Bill ordered.
She glared over her shoulder. “The man wants to take me to bed, Bill. Is that what you think I should do with him?”
Bill laughed again, looking sheepish. “Maybe you need to talk to Abby instead of me about that sort of dilemma. I’m better at the legal stuff. She handles all love crises among our friends.”
“Here’s what I think about your male posturing crap,” Mariah declared, and lifted her middle finger to him.
“Seriously…” Bill called as she stomped out his office door. “Trust him, Mariah. He’s probably a good man.”
“Mariah?”
The dread she felt hearing her assistant say her name proved just how much the stress of her life was getting to her. The slightest hesitation in Della’s voice these days set her teeth on edge.
She hated Dan for making her this anxious. John Monroe was coming in a close second today though. And Bill—her “just trust him” attorney—now held third place—the traitor.
“I swear if there’s a policeman of any sort in my waiting room, I’m calling my mother. She’ll come and take them both out for me,” Mariah said, completely out of patience.
Della’s eyes widened at the threat and then she laughed. “No—no. It’s not them today… it’s…”
Looking over her shoulder, her grinning assistant tiptoed quietly toward her desk, stopping a couple feet from it to whisper.
“It’s Dr. Colombo here to see you without an appointment and…” Della drew in a breath for the harder, but more entertaining admission. “Your mother is actually at this moment fixing our leaky toilet. I couldn’t stop her, Mariah. Luckily she was in there when Dr. Colombo arrived.”
Mariah belly laughed in relief. Dr. Colombo was a handsome sweetie of a client. Her mother was merely incorrigible. Compared to Bill’s unwillingness to tell her the truth about John, even getting two weird problems at once didn’t faze her.
“Okay, partner-in-crime. Here’s what I want from you. Send the handsome Dr. Colombo in before my mother starts filling the air with curses. The toilet should keep her busy for a while, but you’re to run interference if it doesn’t.”
Della grinned and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I can do that. Should I ask her if she brought her gun in case the cops show up too?”
“Everyone’s a comedian,” Mariah said, smiling at her chuckling assistant’s back when Della hurried back out.
“Come loose, you disintegrated piece of rubberized crap.”
Georgia yelled the words, trying her best to wiggle loose the tiny water hose without breaking the tiny plastic connector pipe it was attached to.
Her face was nearly in the tank as she put both bare arms down inside for leverage as she tugged. When the hose finally gave, she got a still pressurized stream of water right in her face. Swearing, she autom
atically held out her hand over it to stop it which only served to send the water shooting sideways at her breasts.
“Mother effing piece of…” She was too mad to continue the oath. “Damn water shutoff,” she spat, grabbing her now soaked boobs with one hand to assess the water damage to them as she pressed the tank handle with the other to drain it before it overflowed.
“Need some help with… uh… anything?” a sexy, male voice asked from the doorway.
“No,” Georgia said, sarcasm dripping faster than the water off her face. “I thought I’d liven things up around here with a wet t-shirt contest this afternoon.” Realizing her hand was still holding one wet boob, she removed it.
Grinning, he pointed under the tank. “I think that little silver lever thing down there turns the water off.”
Did he think she’d honestly tear the entire commode apart without knowing what the hell a water shutoff valve was? “Are you sure?” she asked dryly, pissed at his condescension.
“Not really,” her half-ass rescuer admitted. “I don’t usually hang around when the plumber visits. I leave the experts to it.”
“Good for you,” Georgia declared, “but some of us have to fix our own toilets.”
She bent and twisted the shutoff more, mad at herself when it turned easily a few more times. Great. She’d gotten soaked for nothing more than being careless. Luckily, Mariah hadn’t tossed one of those damn blue cleaning tablets in the tank. That would have been disastrous. As it was, she merely smelled like chlorine. Her silk tank was a goner, but that couldn’t be helped now.
“I didn’t have the damn thing turned all the way off. Just my luck. First time I put on makeup in two weeks and now look at me...”
Then Georgia noticed the man had taken her up on her sarcastic invitation to do just that. He was silver-haired with just a few dark strands left, was sleek to the point of looking polished, and was wearing a watch that probably cost as much as her car. Every man that walked through the door of this place looked just like he did, only most were a lot younger. She fought not to roll her eyes at him.
“Here to see Dr. Bates?” Georgia asked politely, wiping her wet hands on one of the expensive paper hand towels Mariah kept stocked in her bathroom. They were ten times nicer than the bargain roll she kept at home, but they didn’t soak up water any better.
Her half-ass rescuer crossed his arms, leaned in the doorway, and smiled at her with enough heat to melt a glacier. Probably paid a fortune for all those pearly whites too. At least he’d gotten his money’s worth. The total effect of him leaning there looked as handsome as any slick magazine ad.
“I’m probably in trouble for dropping by without an appointment. I’d have been here sooner though if I’d known Dr. Bates was hosting a Friday afternoon wet t-shirt contest. You have my vote by the way.”
Proving she was fundamentally still female enough to enjoy such nonsense, a laugh escaped her before she could stifle it with a frown. Georgia glanced down at her nicest white lace bra now showing through the evidently transparent-when-wet white tank. “Too bad I didn’t wear the red bra today. All the boys love that one.”
“I’m sure they do,” he replied, not bothering to fight his smile.
Georgia shook her head. She doubted her breasts were anything like the perfect plastic versions the handsome man smiling at her was used to ogling, but never let it be said that she didn’t have a sense of humor. She spread her hands, giving him a full view of her front.
“Think these wet babies will get me a free drink or something?”
His masculine chuckle over her joke was delightful. The accompanying smile was warm and friendly as he nodded. A woman would have to be dead not to smile back… and she certainly wasn’t.
“Definitely ‘or something’,” he answered huskily, “but I’d be happy to buy you a drink first. I’m that kind of guy. Why don’t you toss that cute sweater on lying over by the sink there. I know this great Irish pub in Newport, lots of fun. We’ll take a stroll along the Riverwalk afterwards.”
Georgia deflated. Where the hell had this cocky older specimen been hiding a decade ago when she’d sorely missed sex and thought maybe she’d try finding someone to have it with again. Her arms lowered. He was a few years too late. Those urges just didn’t come anymore… and neither did she.
“You better let Dr. Bates fix you up with a newer model. I’m not your speed.”
His genuine frown over her brush-off nearly made her take it back. He also looked way more disappointed by her refusal than he had a right to be.
“Are you sure?” he asked softly.
Ignoring his pleading gaze, Georgia nodded. “Yes. Tell Dr. Bates you want to date someone your own age for a change. A challenge like that should make her day.”
He rubbed his nose with one hand and stuck the one sporting the expensive watch in his pants pocket. Georgia had never seen a man look so guilty… not even Ted that time he’d enlisted for two more years at that hellhole base she’d detested without first talking to her about it.
The man in the doorway suddenly blushed as handsomely as any actor playing a role in a movie. That’s when she figured it out. He probably did date twenty year olds. That’s what well-preserved men like him always ended up doing. They didn’t come looking for sixty-something widows like her.
Her self-preservation kicked in and just rolled off her tongue. “Don’t worry, Hollywood. There’s no short supply of those young cuties you like in the world. My adult grandchildren are working on a baby girl right now. You’ll only be seventy when she’s ready.”
Turning her back on the most handsome man she’d ever come across, because it was the only action that made any sense, Georgia picked up the new hose and sat on the toilet tank to finish her task.
“Hollywood?” he asked, ignoring the rest.
Not turning around for a last look, Georgia laughed off his question, the sound echoing inside the now empty toilet tank.
Chapter Ten
Mariah smiled as Della ushered the very handsome plastic surgeon into her office. Brentwood Colombo had been married four times. It was easy to understand why. Outside of his woman centered profession, he had the kind of masculine confidence in himself that just naturally drew women to him. Even Della beamed every time the man talked to her. A woman would have to be dead not to appreciate his appeal.
“Dr. Colombo, what a welcome surprise. What can I do for you?” Mariah asked. The man walked to the chair in front of her desk and let his well-kept body drop down into it.
“I’ve been coming here since you opened your doors, Mariah. Are you ever going to call me, Brent?” he demanded.
Mariah blinked hard at the question, not sure what kind of frustration she was hearing in his tone. “Of course. If it will make you feel more comfortable with me.”
The silence grew as he leaned back in her comfortable guest chair and stared at her.
“I wasn’t expecting you until next week…. Brent. I don’t quite have the next list of candidates put together for you…” Mariah began, stopping when he held up a hand.
“Forget the list. I have a different problem. Who’s your plumber?” he demanded.
Mariah sucked in her bottom lip to keep from laughing. Plumber? Her favorite client wanted her to find him a plumber? She’d just officially stepped onto the crazy train this week.
“Okay. That’s not part of my usual services, but I suppose Della could make you a list of highly rated plumbers in Cincinnati. It shouldn’t take her long. She’s a whiz at googling things.”
He was one of those men who looked even more handsome when he was confused. His wrinkled up face was adorable. No wonder he’d been married all those times.
“No, no. I want specific information about the one fixing your toilet. Do you know her?”
Mariah swallowed, wondering what her mother had said or done now. “Yes. All too well. Why do you ask?”
Brent Colombo steepled his talented surgeon's fingers in front of him and sm
iled. “I’ll double your normal fee for a match if you get me a date with her. The woman interests me.”
Mariah felt her mouth drop open in shock, but couldn’t stop it.
“Close your mouth, Dr. Bates. I promise you I’m not joking,” he ordered.
“But…” Mariah said, stammering as she wondered how to explain the truth to him. “She’s not in The Perfect Date database.”
Brent cleared his throat. “Yeah, she didn’t seem like your usual type, but you can add her, right? Okay, here’s how serious I am. I’ll triple your money.”
“Brent—getting set up here at The Perfect Date—well, it just doesn’t work that way. More money won’t cause what you want to happen. I don’t think a match with her is possible,” Mariah protested.
“Then I guess I should probably confess I asked her out already. I probably shouldn’t have, but it just sort of slipped out in one of those moments that only come once or twice in a lifetime. It didn’t occur to me I was breaking any rules when I asked her to dinner.”
“You asked her to dinner?” Mariah’s mouth dropped open again. She made herself close it. “What… what did she say?”
“She turned me down. I have no idea why.” He frowned. “Are you worried she’ll sue for harassment?”
Mariah chuckled. “No… no, nothing like that.”
Brent gave a dismissive man grunt. “Good. She didn’t seem the type. In fact, she had a great sense of humor.”
“She’s triple the age of your last two dates,” Mariah said bluntly.
“I know. That’s why I offered you triple the fee for her. I stand by that by the way. Make sure she sees some of it. I think she might need a new car. Something she said made me think that.”
Mariah shook her head, again wondering what in the world her mother had said to her client. “Brent, I could never take your money so unfairly.”
“You have to make a living, don’t you, Dr. Bates? My money is mine to spend as I please.”
Mariah held up a hand. “I’m not debating your client rights. But that plumber—that woman you asked out—she’s my mother.”
Never Is A Very Long Time: A Romantic Comedy With Attitude (The Perfect Date Book 1) Page 6