by Linda Ladd
Black decided to stop at the Galleria Mall for their mini shopping spree, and they went into Macy’s and bought all the clothes they needed for the weekend, more than they needed, in fact, but Black was nothing if not generous. They stopped at The Cheesecake Factory inside the mall for dinner and sat together at an intimate table for two that was set along the outside wall and had dinner. Claire finished her coconut shrimp and fries first and was studying the guys pictured in Beat Down, the cage-fighting magazine that she’d picked up at the airport bookstore. That’s when Black performed his first wedding discussion maneuver.
“Well, while we’re here, we might as well go upstairs to Nordstrom’s. They’ve got a bridal shop. We need to get in gear with the wedding plans.”
Claire looked up, the magazine still open in her hands. She attempted to be diplomatic. “I don’t think we have time for that right now, Black. Let’s wait awhile. I don’t want to get my dress here, anyway.”
Black seemed pleased that they were finally discussing it. Not that she’d put it off, or anything, but she had other important things to do, like solving her murder case. He said, “Okay, you’re probably right. We’ll go to New York and pick it out. I was thinking Vera Wang, maybe.”
“Who’s Vera Wang?”
“She’s a designer up there. The two of you can talk about what you want, and then she’ll sketch up a few ideas and let you take your pick. She’s really good, a very famous lady, especially with wedding attire. I know her personally so I know she’ll fit us into her schedule.”
Wrong. “I don’t want to talk to her. I want to do this myself. I have something in mind.”
Black placed his coffee cup back down into the saucer. He looked tickled pink. “Really? I didn’t think you’d want to mess with the details.”
“Well, I do.”
“Well, that’s great. So, tell me about your ideas.”
Claire felt as uncomfortable as hell. Why, she could not fathom. She just didn’t like this conversation. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want Black to know what she was planning, but he looked like he was waiting on the edge of his seat, leaning forward even. Jeez. And she had been changing the subject off the wedding for the last few weeks. She couldn’t keep that up much longer, or he was gonna go bananas and accuse her of dragging her feet, or something. She was, maybe a little, but he didn’t have to know that.
“Okay, I’ll tell you. It’s no big deal. I thought maybe Bud could help me pick out what would look nice on me, and then Nancy Gill could sew the gown. She’s really good at that kinda thing. I saw some of the fancy evening stuff she had made when we were down in New Orleans.”
For a second or two, Black just stared at her. Then he frowned. “You want Bud to help design your dress? Bud Davis?”
Well, it was pretty damn obvious that Black didn’t like her ideas. For some reason, that irked the absolute hell out of her. She felt resentment rising up inside her, fast, furious, and not much fun. “Well, now, if I recall, Black, you seemed to like that black gown he helped me pick out that one time. The one I wore to that stupid charity gala we went to out at that school. The one without a back on it. He’s got good taste. You can’t say you didn’t like that dress.”
“I liked what was in that dress, Claire. Just like I’m going to like what’s in your wedding gown, whatever it looks like. But listen, we can go anywhere you want for your dress. Really, we can. Money is no object. We can fly to Paris, or Milan, or anywhere you want and you can have anything you want. Anything at all.”
Grimacing, Claire slapped the fighter magazine shut. She kept her voice very low but she locked eyes with Black. “Well, money is an object for me. I do not make tons of money every day like you do. And this is my dress that I’m gonna wear, and I’m gonna do it the way I wanna do it.” She stopped and took a calming breath that did not work at all. “And I’m not gonna take your bounty anymore, Black. I am not some poor little needy church mouse that you’ve got to support. I’ve got a job and I’ve worked hard every single day of my life. I’ve still got some pride left, believe it or not.”
Fuming and fists clenched and breathing hard, she stared across the table at Black. He looked as if she had slapped him a stinging one across his face. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a stunned expression on him before. He blinked and gave a slight shake of his head, as if clearing his vision. “What the hell are you talking about? Church mouse? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never you mind. Hey, you just finish up here while I pay the bill. I’m treating you for once, and with real money that I keep in my very own billfold, and everything.”
“What the devil’s the matter with you, Claire?”
Not liking his calm question or his calm manner or his calm little frown, Claire got up and stalked to the front desk and asked for the check. That’s when she hoped she had enough cash to pay the bill because she didn’t have any credit cards with her. Damn it. She should always carry a credit card. But hey, she had enough money, even if it pretty much cleaned out her very own billfold, though, but that was okay. Afterward, she headed for the ladies’ room and stared at her angry reflection in one of the big ornate mirrors in a very fabulous bathroom.
That’s when she settled back to earth and sensible thought. What in the devil was the matter with her? That had been Black’s last question and certainly not out of line. She leaned over and splashed some cold water on her anger-flushed face and stood there and waited for her heartbeat to stop thudding. Good grief, he probably thought she was nuts. Maybe she was; she sure had acted like it. But there was just something about his attitude concerning Bud and Nancy and her desire to take care of buying her own gown that really, really rubbed her the wrong way. What did he think? That she and her friends were too damn provincial to know what looked good at his fancy socialite wedding? Was that it? Did he think he was better than they were because he had more money than he knew what to do with?
On the other hand, and in the rational part of her brain that wasn’t working so well at the moment, she knew that Black wasn’t the least bit like that. She also knew he hadn’t meant to insult anybody. He just liked to give her things; strike that, he loved to give her things. And she usually loved to get things, well, at least some things. Their tastes weren’t exactly like two peas in a pod. He liked ridiculously expensive and state-of-the-art and over-the-top everything. She liked comfortable and old and understated everything. But now she realized, all too well and in a way that made her squirm inside, that she’d thrown a stupid little hissy fit over nothing, and in a public place, too, and owed the poor guy sitting out there alone a very big apology. If he was still sitting out there and hadn’t headed for the hills. She wouldn’t blame him if he was long gone.
God, the aforementioned grovel was going to come out hard, too. Humble pie wasn’t exactly her thing. So she hung around a little more, thinking she should comb her hair because it looked all wild and tangled from the rotors. But she didn’t carry a comb or brush and she really didn’t care how her hair looked. And so freakin’ what? Mussed hair wasn’t exactly a shotgun blast in the gut, was it? When a couple of older ladies came in, laughing and having a good old time, she bit the bullet and walked back outside, not exactly brimming over with joy at having to beg for forgiveness and admit to Black how highly ridiculous her behavior had been. But she was a big girl. She could do it, like it or not. And she didn’t like it.
Chapter Eight
Nick Black still sat at their table, wondering what the crap had just gone down and not a little pissed off at being attacked in such a way and for no good reason. Claire’s angry remarks hadn’t made much sense to him and had come straight out of the blue. They had been having a perfectly nice dinner—talking, laughing, enjoying themselves, everything right as rain—only moments before she went off on him. Unfortunately, it had been the subject of their upcoming nuptials that sent her spinning off into that bizarre and resentful and ridiculous tirade. And that was not a go
od sign as far as future wedding bells were concerned.
So Black sat there alone and waited some more, impatient as hell, and still rather annoyed, too, but trying not to let it show. He kept one eye on the front door, in case Claire just up and took off and left him sitting there. She had been angry enough to do that, angrier than he’d seen her in months, in fact. They had been getting along better ever since they got back from New Orleans so this was unexpected, to say the least.
Fifteen minutes later, he watched her appear at the other end of the restaurant and approach the table again. She sat down across from him. He didn’t say a word, just stared at her, waiting. This was her show. She was going to have to bring down the curtain. He sure as hell didn’t know how it was supposed to end. She glanced around at the other customers, all chatting and eating and not having a silly fight, and she didn’t say anything either. So they just sat there for several minutes and listened to the clink of cutlery and rattle of dishes and low hum of conversation. Finally, she looked directly at him.
“Okay, Black, listen up. I admit it. That whole thing was really stupid. Forget I said any of that stuff. I guess I’m just touchy today and took it out on you. I guess it’s this case. Sorry I blew up in your face.”
Black hadn’t been expecting that. Usually, if they had a disagreement, both of them just ignored any kind of apology, got over it after a few hours, and carried on as if nothing had happened. He was the one who always wanted to talk about the problem. And he did this time, too. “Okay. And I’m sorry if I insulted you. Or if I insulted your friends. That wasn’t my intention. You know that I think a lot of Bud and Nancy.”
“I know. Okay, you finished here? Let’s go.”
“Wait just a minute, Claire. We need to discuss this for more than ten seconds, don’t you think? Maybe there’s some kind of underlying reason for what just happened.”
“Like what?” She frowned and took a quick sip of water, and looked everywhere but at him. “You always think I’ve got an underlying reason for everything.”
“Well, you usually do. And that last remark tells me that you’re still a little ticked off.”
She sighed audibly. “There’s no underlying reason, Black. I apologized, didn’t I? What else do you want? Want me to crawl around on the floor and beg?”
Black ignored that last remark. It just proved his point. “You know what that underlying reason sounded like to me? Like maybe you don’t want to get married as much as you thought you did.”
“Oh, God, please. If you start analyzing me right now, I’m really gonna flip out.”
“I’m not going to analyze you. But I have noticed that you never seem to want to talk about the wedding. Which makes me think that you’re either having second thoughts or maybe you already know that you don’t want to go through with it. If you’ve changed your mind about getting married, it’s okay. Just tell me.”
Claire darted a look at him, as if startled by his last remark. “Is it really okay?”
Black grimaced. “Well, hell no.”
After that, Claire glanced around, sighed again, and then looked back at him. “This isn’t the place for this conversation.”
“No, it isn’t, and I won’t push it, but let me say this one last thing. Starting now, you’re in complete charge of the wedding. I don’t care where it is or when it is or how it looks. You and Bud and Nancy can plan the whole thing, if you want, do it however you want, invite whoever you want. All I want is for you to be happy and want to get married, that’s all I care about. But truthfully, right now, I’m not so sure that you want that at all.”
Claire heaved in another sigh, even heavier this time, long, drawn out, and overly dramatic. “Look, would you just chill out about this? You’re overreacting big-time. I jumped you for no particular reason. My bad. Probably because I’m really, really tired. I want to be with you. You know that.” She didn’t look at him. “We’re together all the time as it is. We live together. It’s like we’re already married. I just don’t get how all the fancy hoopla and a piece of paper matters.”
“It matters to me.”
“Okay, fine, let’s just talk about it later. Like I said, I’m sorry. This whole thing is all my fault, and I know it. I do. I just thought I had a pretty good idea for the dress, that’s all. You know, a surprise for you. Something that you’d especially like. I just wanted to do it my way. That’s all this is. But fine, you and that Wang woman can do it. No problem. Now let’s go. I already paid the bill. My treat.”
Now that explanation was something that Black could live with. Truth be told, he was pretty much relieved. At least she wasn’t breaking off the engagement. And she hadn’t taken off the ring. It was right there on her finger. “Well, okay then. You know that I like surprises so I’ll look forward to seeing the dress you pick out. And thanks for dinner. It was really good. Mind if I leave the tip?”
Claire laughed a little. She looked relieved that her apology was over and accepted. Black smiled, too, because it appeared that things were back to normal, just like that. And Claire was going to have the dress she wanted and however she wanted it, and he was fine with that. So it seemed that Wang woman wouldn’t be designing anything for Claire, after all. That remark was just so Claire that he had to laugh a little to himself as he followed her out of the restaurant.
When they were back inside the car, their shopping bags stowed in the backseat, however, Black looked over at her and decided that maybe they weren’t done with the subject, after all. Although Claire seemed comfortable enough to let the subject drop like a hot potato, the more he thought about it, the less well it sat with him. He needed a few more answers. “I know you don’t want to talk about this anymore, and we don’t have to run it into the ground. But I want to say something. You looked upset when I picked you up at the sheriff’s office. What happened before I got there? Did something go wrong in your case? Or did somebody say something to you about my putting down the chopper in the parking lot?”
“Well, what’d you think? You landed a damn helicopter in the sheriff’s parking lot. That doesn’t go unnoticed, you know. I got some hassling, but I’m used to it by now.”
“Well, I got permission from Charlie before I did it. And you don’t act like you’re used to the hassling.” Pretty sure now that he knew what her problem really was, Black pulled out on Carondelet Boulevard and headed for the Ritz-Carlton. “The money comes with me, Claire. Can’t help it.”
“No kidding. I’ve got a small fortune worth of your gifts to prove it.”
“I like to buy things for you.”
Claire smiled. “Well, actually, if we’re being completely truthful here, you like to buy them for you. The things you give me are things that you like or want me to have or to wear. But that’s okay. They’re usually pretty cool. I like them well enough. Especially that stuff from L.L. Bean.”
“You’re going to have to explain that a little more.”
“Well, you know, all those designer things you buy me, scarves and handbags and coats and jewelry, all that crap. That’s the kind of stuff you like, and you want me to like it, too.”
“I admit that I want you to have the best. And you looked really good when you wore that Hermès scarf I brought you from Paris.”
“Yeah, but that’s because that’s all I had on at the time. No wonder you liked it on me.”
“Damn straight.”
Claire laughed. “Okay. Like I said, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We’ve hashed it out, and things are good. At least for me. Drop it, or I’m checking into another room when we get to the hotel and spend some downtime with myself working on my case.”
“Like hell you are.”
“Don’t you see, Black? I’m with you for you, not for your money. If you didn’t have a cent to your name, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference to me. I’d support you on my salary and we could live in my house. Just so you know.”
Black rather liked the sound of that. She wasn’t always
one to gush about her personal feelings. He smiled over at her. “Well, okay then. That’s good to know. But let’s hope the destitute part doesn’t happen.”
After that, Black drove in silence the rest of the way, but something she had said was eating at him. He pulled into the front drive at the Ritz-Carlton, stopped behind a black Lincoln Town car unloading a ton of white Gucci luggage, turned off the key, and looked over at her. “I’ve got the Ritz-Carlton suite, and I’ve got a surprise for you. It’s already all set up. I called them while you were . . . uh . . . paying the bill.”
Claire smiled and shook her head. “Didn’t we just get finished discussing this? See what I mean? You’re doing what you want. You didn’t confer with me on this stuff, now did you?”
“Okay, point taken. But you’re going to like what I want for you this time, trust me.”
“You are just so damn self-assured, aren’t you?”
“It might even get you out of that . . . shall we say . . . uptight . . . mood of yours.”
“I’m not uptight, damn it!”
“I rest my case.”
“Well, it better be damn good after this lead up.”
They sat there a moment, waiting for the valet to get to them. “Tell me about your case, Claire. Maybe that’s what’s got you so upset?”
“Probably, because it’s ugly. Worst part? I just found out this afternoon that some of these cage fighters might be training little kids, you know, forcing them to fight each other in those stupid cages. And I’m talking five years old, Black. That just makes my skin crawl.”