by Traci Hall
“Terrific. You’ve both been so helpful. Will you call up to the room once you find out?” She gave them each a wave and headed to the elevator, fighting with the sand stuck in the wheels of her luggage.
They pretended not to notice, which meant they’d probably witnessed her temper tantrum in the ocean, but figured she had too much money for them to mention it.
By the time she got off the elevator and onto the third floor she heard the yipping from Princey in the hall. No time to break down—she’d do it again in another ten years—she’d need to find a leash and a little plastic bag right away. Ew.
It was a sad day when the highlight was not having to feed the bird raw meat.
The door, thankfully unlocked, opened easily and she shut it behind her, setting her suitcase near the umbrella holder.
“I’m coming Princey,” she called, heading toward the one closed door in the hall. She opened it, kneeling down at floor level for a pricey pooch with a diamond collar.
A Saint Bernard barreled toward her and knocked her on her ass.
“Oof,” she said.
“Woof!” he barked.
“What in the hell?” She braced herself as he licked her face with his rough scratchy tongue. “You should have a name like King.” She coughed. “Your breath stinks.” She pushed him back and they stared at one another, eye to boogery eye.
“I don’t even want to know what you eat.”
A knock sounded on the door and the dog lumbered over her, his hind paw catching her cheek. She jumped up. “Coming!” It had to be the doorman, who she’d have to bribe to take this dog out. How had Rita done it?
She opened the door, her hand latched onto Princey’s collar.
It was Joe Porter, Officer next-door. His green-gold eyes flashed at her, his dark hair falling over his forehead as he smiled. Very aware of looking like she’d barely survived a cyclone, she squeaked, “What are you doing here?”
He eyed the dog, her disarrayed clothes and her throbbing cheek. “Sit.”
Tempted to plop down herself, K was grateful when Princey followed the command.
“A Saint Bernard?” Joe asked. “In a condo?”
“I don’t have any answers.” She was oddly pleased to see him standing at the threshold, recalling the protection he’d given when he’d held her in the water.
“I called my buddy— he told me they took Rita to Holy Family. I checked, and she’s in room 123.”
“Thank you.” Now what? She wanted a shower and a change of clothes. Joe looked great, despite the unscheduled dip in the ocean. K did not.
“I feel like we didn’t get the chance to meet one another in our best surroundings.” He kept his hands at his sides, his stance relaxed. Her eyes dropped to the map of tattoos on his forearms.
“And you think this is better?” Princey inched himself forward so his head poked between her legs as he stared at Joe, his tongue lolling to the side. The dog’s potent breath wafted upward and her eyes watered.
Joe grinned and gave her torn skirt another once-over. “You should see things from where I’m standing. Maybe you could start a new fashion, the slashed skirt.”
Her view wasn’t so bad either. His confidence did a lot for the boy next door thing while the tattoos gave him a sexy edge. His clothes were slightly damp, like hers. K tilted her head and backed up, pulling on Princey’s collar so he’d get out of the way. “Come on in,” she said. “I don’t know my way around the place, but you’re welcome to grab a towel and dry off.”
“Do you have everything you need to stay for a few days?”
How thoughtful. “As you probably noticed, I was dragging a suitcase earlier. I wasn’t sure how long this meeting was going to take. While I had high hopes of getting back to Chicago tonight, I tossed in a pair of jeans and a toothbrush in case of emergency.”
“You’re practically a boy scout.” He brushed past her and the dog snuck a lick at his leg.
“I’d planned on staying in a hotel. With room service.” As a treat with her well-earned money. She released Princey’s collar and the dog bounded toward the couch to sniff the empty wine bottle.
“It might be best for Rita if you stay here at the condo.” Joe followed the dog, taking in the details on the coffee table.
“Yes, I agree.” She had no money, so she had no choice. For now, what mattered most was that Rita was in the hospital instead of the morgue. Breathing. Alive. “Princey, here, boy.” She patted her leg for emphasis. “There’s a broken wine glass. Rita took a few too many pills, and I don’t know if she dropped any. Although this dog is so big a Prozac couldn’t hurt him.”
The dog ambled toward her, tongue out. Just…happy.
“She overdosed?” Joe stacked the pill bottle, wine bottle and broken glass and headed toward the kitchen.
K wasn’t sure what he knew. But he was a cop, and his friend was the paramedic who’d taken Rita to the hospital. There was no covering the facts with evasive half-truths. “Yes. But I’m certain it was an accident.” She followed him into the kitchen.
He found the trash in the container beneath the sink, tossed it in, then shut the cupboard door. “No, you are not.”
“Excuse me?” K stopped short.
“You are not certain it was an accident. I realize you’re a fancy lawyer flying in as a favor for a client, but you don’t need to lie to me. In fact,” he leaned against the sink and crossed his arms to meet her eyes. His turned emerald with emotion. “I would prefer it if you stuck to the truth. I hate lies.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist. The wonderful art form of stretching the truth was something she excelled at. “You’re taking away my super power.”
Joe burst out laughing. “You get bonus points for knowing your strengths.” He pushed away from the counter and came toward her, his hand on her upper arm to test her muscle. His fingers were warm and gentle with an undercurrent of power that gave her a thrill.
“In my job, being able to paint the scene is a skill,” she said. She pulled away from him, unsettled by the feelings his touch created. Probably because he saved her, that was all. “The clients like it, the judges tolerate it. The other attorneys are jealous.”
“I bet. But let’s make a deal, okay? No lies between us.”
Big mistake. “That puts me at a disadvantage.”
“Listen, I just don’t want to work that hard getting to know you. I’d like to help you out while you’re here, that’s all.”
He made his request sound so innocent. “What are you giving up?” she countered.
Joe snorted. “You’re a lawyer all right.”
“Fair is fair. If you want to make a deal like that, then you have to give up something of equal value.”
Joe clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowed. At last he said, “Okay. I won’t lie either.”
K laughed. “What? That is not the same.” She pointed at herself. “I’m a professional.” Not that she looked like one at the moment.
“It’s exactly on par.” He made a swiping motion with his hand.
“No. Not buying it. You are a cop. Thou shalt not lie, steal, whatever.”
“I was an undercover cop. I lied like a champ.” He curled his arm like Popeye.
K straightened her shoulders, intrigued. “Undercover?” Doing what?
“Yeah.”
The dog, deciding they’d been without his company for too long, barged between them in the narrow kitchen and gave a stinky woof.
“I suppose I better take him out.” She wanted to find out more about Joe Porter, but it probably wasn’t a good idea.
“I can do it.” He patted the dog’s head.
“It isn’t your job.”
“It isn’t yours, either.”
“But as you said earlier, Rita is my client.” Who had to get better, fast.
“This dog weighs more than you.”
Eyeing the drooling beast, K capitulated. “I don’t know how Rita does it. She’s at least seventy, if not ol
der.”
“She probably has one of those spike collars. And he looks a little long in the tooth himself. Probably not up to chasing any squirrel tail.”
She sniffed. “A male will always chase tail.”
Joe chuckled. “Divorce lawyer? Yeah. Makes you jaded.”
“And cops aren’t?” she asked before returning her attention to the dog. “In this line of work, I’ve seen terrible things,” she admitted. “Mostly men deserting their loyal wives after years of freaking servitude for a little fresh ‘tail’. Rita’s ex-husband had a mistress on the side for years.”
“Monogamy isn’t for everybody.” Joe shrugged.
“You don’t have to preach to the choir,” K told him. “Marriage is bullshit.”
“What?”
K was surprised to see Joe’s shocked expression and quickly explained. “I’ve witnessed my own parents–married now thirty years–and my dad hasn’t been faithful for one of them.”
“I’m sorry, Kay.”
“Don’t be. It is what it is.” She walked out of the kitchen to the hall, escaping painful memories. Hadn’t she done enough touching base with her emotions for one day?
“Let me change into something less shredded, and then we can walk the beast together. Are you sure you don’t want a towel?”
Joe pulled at the hem of his shorts. “They’re almost dry. My shirt too.” He ruffled the tousled dark brown layers of his hair. “I’m fine.”
“A minimalist?” She pulled her hair up, feeling the sand at her scalp. “I require a shower and clean clothes. Then I’ll be ready for the next round of surprises. If you really want to help, I’d love a ride to the hospital. To see Rita?”
“Sure. I’ll Google what to do with parrots.”
K laughed as he voiced what she’d just thought earlier and walked toward her small suitcase. “I think the doorman is going to help out.” They had more in common than she ever would have thought. “Give me twenty minutes.”
*****
Joe watched her go, her back straight, her slim hips doing wonders for the thin skirt. She seemed like the type that needed an hour before they left the house. Plucking this, waxing that, adding moisturizer and perfume.
A delicious bite, if the man was willing to put up with all the extra filler.
He’d decided to help her, reluctantly impressed as she’d dragged that poor suitcase across the sand and into the condo. He’d seen her expression as she’d heard she’d saved Rita’s life. She’d been scared, not that she’d ever admit it.
She challenged his apathy. Made him feel something besides resentment.
The least he could do was take the dog for a walk while she was in the shower.
He found the collar, the kind that spiked inward and allowed a pet owner some control over a larger animal, and a leash. Princey danced around him, excited to go out. Joe grabbed about six plastic trash bags. He had no clue the damage this dog could do, but he wanted to be prepared for the worst.
Princey led the way to the elevator, then once out on the main floor, greeted the doorman and the woman at the desk he’d already checked in with.
“Officer Porter,” the woman called. “I found out that Ms. Hartley is at Holy Family.”
“Thank you.” He paused as Princey sniffed a potted palm. “Did you talk to her?”
“Oh no, sir. But if you see her? Would you tell her we’re thinking about her?”
“Sure.” Joe looked at the doorman. “Ms. Hartley does this? Every day?”
The doorman looked down at his feet. “She tries, sir, she does. But usually one of the boys or myself will help her.”
“Why did she get such a big dog?” Joe didn’t understand people. Condo living was not meant for huge furry beasts.
“She saw an ad that he was going to be put down.”
Princey whined.
“Oh.” Well. “How long has she had him?”
“Less than a year. But they are sweet together. Sitting on the bench, side by side. Like he knows she saved him.”
Princey nudged the doorman in the knee and the man scratched Princey’s ears. “Just go out back there. I’m sure he’ll show you where to go. He’s a smart one.”
“Thank you.” Joe realized he’d done something he shouldn’t have. Like judge another person without getting the facts. His therapist would have something to say about that—if he told her, which he doubted he would. But he would remember the lesson.
That was the point, anyway, right?
He gave Princey a good fifteen minutes outside to do his business, most of which was sniffing other dog’s business.
Totally chill, the large beige, white and brown Saint Bernard leaned against Joe as if to let him know he was done. Thanks.
“No prob, buddy.” They went upstairs and Joe was wrong again. Not something he was used to.
Kay stood in the mirrored foyer in snug jeans, a loose blouse that bared sections of skin as she moved, and heels. She’d knotted her wet hair into a bun centered at the back of her head, with loose strands framing her face. Her brown oval eyes gave her an Asian cast, despite the platinum blonde hair. Petite in height and frame, she packed a punch.
“You didn’t have to take Princey out!” She applied a swipe of red gloss in the mirror, smacking her lips together. “But I’m glad you did. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Joe’s problem was swallowing as he tried not to follow the curve of her ass as she tossed the glimmering tube into her purse. She smelled like jasmine.
“Marge called from the front desk. Confirmed the room number you told me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I already knew.” She smiled.
Not good.
“I feel like I should have showered,” he said.
Her face closed expression. Nothing bad, or good, just neutral. “You can here, but Rita doesn’t have any clean clothes. Unless you want a linen Ann Taylor sheath. Your legs aren’t bad, either.”
“Thanks.” He ran, too. He missed being needed. The adrenalin of setting up the bad guy, occasionally winning one for the underdog. It was difficult being a street cop when he’d been trained for high stakes.
“Want to go home?” she asked. “I can take a cab to the hospital.”
“No, no. It’s just that you look, great, and I look like I went for a swim.”
“Saving me from drowning. Which if you knew the story behind that, you’d die laughing.”
“Tell.”
“Only because we agreed no lies.” She flirtatiously tossed her head. “So, I’m named after the Hawaiian Sea Goddess.”
“I never pegged you as…Hawaiian.” Blonde, trim.
“Yeah. My dad is a native. My SoCal mother moved to Molokai to ‘find herself’—I guess she’s still looking.”
He could tell she used humor as a defense against hurt. Act like it didn’t matter, and nobody would realize it was a deep wound. All of the therapy he’d been in over the years had to count for something, even if it was recognizing other people’s pain. He knew his own flaws backward and forward. Upside down, too.
“Kay? I never heard of that goddess.” He waited to see if she would offer more information but she was busy checking her smart phone. “Did you grow up there?”
“Yes.” She looked up, powering the phone off before tossing it into her purse after her lip gloss.
“How did you go from legendary chill Hawaii native to cutthroat divorce lawyer from Chicago?”
“I am not cut-throat,” she said, leaning back against the wall. “I just know how to get my clients what they want. Are we going, or what?”
“Why did Rita attempt suicide?”
“Your cop is coming out to play. We don’t know that she did this on purpose.”
“No lies,” Joe prompted.
Kay hesitated. Princey left Joe’s side to walk to hers, putting his head under her hand. She scratched his ears. “Turns out she still loves her husband.” Her eyes glimmered but she blinked away the hint of tears. “Not anything she eve
r told me about during the entire divorce process. Trust me, I would have remembered.”
Joe had a hard time believing that a woman wouldn’t share her feelings about the man she was divorcing. “You just said you gave her what she wanted.”
“She wanted more than half of his fortune. She got it.” Kay stiffened. “Wait a minute, Joe. Are you suggesting that Rita’s overdose is my fault?”
Chapter Four
K went from calm to furious in two seconds. His suggestion that she might be responsible rankled. While in the shower, she’d mentally gone over every email, phone call and text. Not once had Rita hinted at anything other than loathing and wanting to get what she deserved from the husband who had wronged her so badly.
“No!” Joe said, backing up toward the door, which was still open from returning Princey from his walk. “I don’t think that. Nobody can be responsible for somebody else’s action.”
“Exactly.” Her tone was deliberately curt.
“I just was curious at how she’d managed to avoid her feelings.”
The tattooed boy-toy wanted to talk feelings? “She was angry. She’d been disrespected. By the man she thought would honor her forever. Instead he sets up a floozy three blocks down! Poor Rita thinks he’s taking his morning run, but he’s having his morning screw instead.” K had it all on film. “Back home in time for Rita to make him bacon and eggs.”
Joe winced. “I’m sorry.”
K sighed, forcing a deep breath. “Me too.” It made her so mad, watching women believe in their spouses, only to be let down. Women needed to be able to stand alone! To take care of themselves. But those men weren’t Joe, so she kept her voice light. “I mean it; you’re welcome to take a shower here if you want. Or you can go home, and I can call a cab.”
“I’m curious how Rita is doing,” he said. “I know you brought stuff for overnight, but how about food?”
“I checked the fridge. Rita is stocked for Armageddon. The dog, the bird and I can all live happily for years.” The woman was organized down to labeling and dating her spices.
“Okay. Let’s go to the hospital, then.”