Dark and Deadly

by Jeanne Adams

  “I can be there in fifteen minutes, if you want me to.” Please, he thought. Want me. Every part of him wanted to leap up, head for her hotel. The thought that the cops stationed outside his door would know where he was going and what he was doing didn’t stop the wanting.

  “I wish I could beam you over,” she murmured, and he heard the drowsy desire in her voice. “I’d be able to touch you.” She yawned and he did, too. The rest of his body was wide awake, however.

  “You want to touch me?” he baited her. “Mmmm. That would be good. Then I could touch you, too. Everywhere. Anywhere you wanted me to touch you. Light,” he said, waiting so she could picture it. “Or firm, and deep.”

  “Oh,” she whispered. “You’re making me crazy.”

  “Not half as much as you’re making me, babe,” he said, thinking he was going to need a cold shower before heading back to bed. Either that or he was going to say to hell with all the phone sex, and climb in bed with her for some furious, awesome lovemaking.

  “Good,” she murmured. “You’ve been driving me crazy for years. Mmmmm. About time I gave a little of that back.”

  “Years?”

  “Years. I’ve wanted to touch you like I did in your office today. Hold you in my hands.” She lowered her voice to that devastatingly sexy purr. “Feel you touch me. Everywhere.”

  “I’m going to come over there and let you feel what you’re doing to me.”

  “No, too many police in the lobby,” she crooned. “And they’d shoot you if you climbed in the window.” “Yeah, they would.”

  “So, talk to me.”

  “I don’t want to talk, honey,” he murmured. “I want to do.”

  She laughed. “After the last dance?”

  “You got the flowers, I take it.”

  “They’re beautiful, like the roses.”

  “Like you.”

  “Sweet-talker,” she protested.

  “You haven’t had enough of that, I think. So I guess it’s up to me.”

  “Hmmm. Impress me.”

  He did his best. By the time they hung up, it was nearing daybreak. He was so aroused, so ready to explode that only a cold shower would help him. As it was, he climbed back into bed with his hair wet and cold, and his body still on fire.

  “Just wait, Torie Hagen,” he murmured. “You’ll dance with me, and I’ll never let you go.”

  “So somebody drugged the cops? Wow.” Pam was shocked by the latest development. “Hard to believe.”

  “Yeah, scared me,” Torie said, then thanked the waiter who served their breakfast plates.

  “You should have called me. I would have come over.”

  “I know.” Torie ducked her head so Pam wouldn’t see the blush that stole over her cheeks.

  “What? What is it?” Pam eyed her with suspicion. “You’re blushing. Who did you call, Paul?”

  When Torie didn’t answer, Pam laughed. “Can’t fool me, girl. I can see right through you. How long did you talk?”

  “An hour,” Torie admitted. “Maybe more.”

  “At three in the morning, eh? Well, well, well.”

  “Stop that.”

  “What?”

  “Being so smug and I-told-you-so.”

  Pam attempted to look serious, sliding her sunglasses off her head to perch them on her nose in professorial fashion. “Now reaaaaallly, darling,” she drawled with dramatic skill. “You muuuuust tell me everything. All the delectable details.”

  “No,” Torie protested. “That’s personal.”

  “Uh huh. Personal. So you’re going tonight, right?” In one of her lightning changes of subject, Pam shifted to the party. “The partner dinner,” she said, snapping her fingers under Torie’s nose. “C’mon, keep up here. You’re going, right?”

  “Yes, I’m going. I wish you could be there, too. I could probably get you a date,” she said, trying for a sly look.

  “God, don’t do that, your face might freeze that way. Who, some hunky, rich partner drooling to get his hands on little ol’ me, or merely another skanky lawyer?”

  “You have dated a few.”

  “You have no idea. So?”

  “How about Melvin? He’s single.”

  “Weaselboy? Uh, no way.”

  “Did everyone call him that? I thought it was just Paul and Todd.”

  “It was. Todd told me to stay away from him one time, at a party for a bunch of the frat brothers. Said he was trouble.”

  “I guess he was for a while. Seems like he’s straightened out now.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I like a reformed bad boy as much as the next red-blooded American woman, but that one? I don’t think so.”

  Torie paused, her breakfast forgotten for a moment. “Yeah, what is it about him?” Another thought distracted her. “Hey, do you remember Blaine and Deke?”

  “The Big Blue Ox and Mister Muscles?” Pam asked, using the nicknames she had for them. “Yeah, I remember them. I ran into Deke at that Chamber thing you dragged me to. He hit on me, hard, but I didn’t have the time. And Blaine, seems to me I’ve seen him around, but I don’t know either one of them that well.”

  “We looked at a list yesterday.” Torie explained about the list and the questions the men had asked of her.

  “Oh, baby.” Pam’s eyes were wide with shock and glistened with tears. “Why didn’t you call me? You shouldn’t have had to go through that, relive that alone.”

  Torie closed her eyes on tears of her own. How like Pam to think that way. “Thank you,” she said, her voice catching on the tears. “I wasn’t alone, though. Paul was there.”

  “I see.”

  Torie laughed at the dry rejoinder. “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “So, I repeat my earlier questions, which you so did not answer.”

  “Which is?”

  “Game plan, girl. Game plan.”

  “Okay, okay. Game plan. I’m calling the bank today about a business loan. I’ve already signed the lease with Kuhman on the house in Upper Darby, and I’ve got a builder/remodeler guy coming to the house on Sunday.”

  “Darby house or Society Hill house?”

  “Both. Society Hill first. The sooner I get started there, the better.” The keys to the padlocks were a weight in her pocket. Sorrels had dropped them off to her, asking her to replace the locks with some she’d bought, and return the existing ones to him.

  She hadn’t been back home again, sure that her stalker would follow her there and finish the job he’d started with the fire.

  “So, you’ve made a list, right?”

  “Yeah.” It was in her purse, five neatly folded pages of stuff to do.

  “Good. Then we can get you ready for tonight.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we go get a massage. We have lunch, we get our nails and toes done. Yours are a mess, by the way. And then we get you back to your room in time to pamper yourself and get ready.”

  “Thanks for the compliment,” Torie retorted. “Pam, I’ve got a ton of stuff to do. I don’t think I can spend the whole day goofing off getting ready for this dinner.”

  “Since when is spending the day with me goofing off?” Pam pretended to be insulted. “Besides. You have waited for eleven long years to get your hands on Paul Jameson.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t ‘but’ me, girlfriend. I was there. I know how excited you were and what you said when he asked you out. I know how horrible you were to live with after the two of you fought over nothing. Pushed each other away.”

  “All these years,” Torie exclaimed, blindsided by the information. “All these years, and you didn’t see fit to tell me you thought I should go for him? What, all that Paul-Jameson-is an-ass talk was for show?”

  “He’s a man.” Pam stressed the final word. “Of course he’s an ass. They all are. Some are bigger than others. And honey, he did make some stupid moves back in the day. And said some stupid shit. He’s making up for it. I’m simply saying that you
care about him. If you do this, you’ll either know he’s the one for you, or you’ll wash him out of your system. You know?”

  “I guess.” The steamroller was moving, and Pam was in the driver’s seat. Torie decided it was time to get a bit of spine. “How about a compromise. I’ll spend the morning getting some things done. You get us salon appointments for one o’clock over at L’Artiste on Chancellor. We’ll do girl stuff and have fun. That’ll get me done by four and back to my room to dress. My date,” she said, and grinned at Pam, “is sending a limo, I’m told. Mister Pratt’s assistant left a message this morning.”

  “That’s a kick. I’m glad you’re going with the old man. He sounds nice.”

  “He is, and I like him. I kind of feel sorry for him, too. He’s lonely since his wife died.”

  “Sucks, doesn’t it? Falling for someone, then losing them?”

  Knowing that Pam wasn’t speaking entirely about Pratt, she answered, “Yeah, but he had a long time with her. Some people get that blessing before the loss.”

  “So,” Pam began as she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, “one o’clock it is. Need me to take you over to the dealership?”

  “Thanks, that would be great. I’ve got a check for you, too, for the room.”

  “Cool. You can pick me up in the new ride, chickiepoo.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  It wasn’t until Torie was pulling back into the garage at the hotel in her new car that she called Paul. She’d wanted to call him first thing, but didn’t know if he’d been able to sleep in or not. She worried that…

  “Nothing. You’re worried over nothing,” she told herself.

  “Mister Jameson’s office.” Martha answered the phone with professional precision.

  “Hello, Missus Prinz. Is Mister Jameson in? It’s Torie Hagen.”

  “Hello, Torie. I’ll see if Mister Jameson is available.”

  “Thank you, Martha.” Evidently the casual address had survived the night and Martha’s ideas of propriety.

  “Torie.” Paul’s voice was warm, welcoming, a sensory treat. “Where are you? Are you coming over to the office?”

  “No, I’m back at the room. I thought I’d work in their business center and in my room. I replaced my car, and I found a place to rent. It’s an incredible house. Since they released my place, I need to start getting estimates on that, too, so I wanted to get started.”

  “Sounds productive. How are you feeling about TruStructure?”

  “Uh, I’d love to talk to you about that also. You had said something to me, something that got me thinking.”

  “Ummmm, I love to get you thinking,” he teased.

  “Stop,” she said, though she loved hearing it. “I’m trying to be serious.”

  “Serious. Okay. Hit me with it.”

  “You said I should go out on my own. Not go back.”

  “Have you decided to do that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to sit down with the new laptop and work on the pros and cons, make a list of all the potential customers, and all that.”

  “What about all the projects you took with you? Are all those your original ideas? Are they viable for production?”

  He’d switched gears to lawyer now. It was nearly as exciting as his teasing. He believed in her.

  “I’ve made an appointment to talk to a small business banker the first of next week. I have a lot saved, but I want to keep the business separate.”

  “That’s wise,” he said, but she heard a laugh in his voice. “I don’t think you’ll have a problem. You should keep Monday open, if possible. I think we’ve finally gotten everything we need to read Todd’s will, and get all that straightened out.”

  “Oh, I’ll call back, change the appointment until Tuesday.”

  “Sound’s good. Now about the house you’re renting—where is it?”

  “Not too far from your house, actually. It’s in a good neighborhood. It’s got room for the dogs—a big fenced yard, and all that.”

  “Wait, dogs? Plural?”

  She paused for a second, wondering how he’d react. “I, uh, I’m taking Bear.”

  “Holy shit. He’s a moose. How do you think your pup’s going to react to him?”

  Her heart melted. He hadn’t told her she was nuts, he hadn’t asked if she had thought it through. He asked about Pickle. “Uh, she loves company, so I think they’ll get along okay. He’s really a big teddy bear.”

  “More like a grizzly bear.”

  “Pam called him a woolly mammoth.”

  Paul laughed, a booming delightful sound. “That’s perfect. So what are you going to do first at your house?”

  “I don’t know, I’m kind of…” She hated to admit it, but he’d been so understanding so far. “I’m a little afraid to go over there until there’s been some kind of resolution.”

  “On your stalker? Yeah. I don’t have any say in the matter, but I hate to think of you over there by yourself. If, uh, you’d like me to, I’ll go with you tomorrow. We can see if there’s anything else you can salvage. Get it out, and start getting workmen in.”

  “That would be great.” Relief lightened her heart. Going over there was imperative, but it would be so much easier to have him with her. “Oh, but we shouldn’t, right? We have to be careful. I don’t want anyone taking a shot at you again. No, I’ll go alone.”

  “We’ll go together,” he said, firmly. “We’re not going to live in fear, Torie. Marco’s still watching you, and he can watch us both. So what else?”

  Torie let that sink in for a moment, but decided protesting would get her nowhere. “I’m having lunch with Pam, getting my nails done. Getting ready for my date with Mister Pratt.”

  “Should be some night. Old Pratt’s a wild man. The rest of the crew are pretty crazy, too. The fraternity parties have nothing on Pratt and Legend.”

  “I’ll bet. So, how much dancing is there?”

  “Enough. I’ll be claiming that dance, Torie.” He let his voice drop. “And a few other things, if you’ll let me.”

  “I think something can be arranged.”

  “Excellent.” He returned to his professional tone. “I’m so happy to hear about your plans. If you’d keep me abreast of your progress, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Someone came into your office, didn’t they?”

  “Indeed.”

  “So should I talk dirty to you so you get really embarrassed while Martha’s standing there?”

  “Uh, no. I’m fine, thanks.” She could hear the amusement in his voice.

  “I’ll talk to you later. Call me on my cell if you need me.”

  “Will do.”

  Still smiling, Torie parked and enjoyed the fun of beeping the locks on the car. Briefcase in hand, she headed to the business center.

  She’d been working for several hours when the door opened yet again. The place was busy, with a conference in the ballroom and the usual general weekday traveler business.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Torie swiveled around, looked at Paul. He stood there, big as life. In his hands he carried yet another vase of flowers. These were weeping over in a fabulous riot of color and form.

  “Oh, those are beautiful.”

  “I’d like to say something clichéd like, ‘They’re not as beautiful as you,’ but that would sound sappy.”

  “Go ahead, be sappy.”

  “No,” he said, setting the flowers on the table and leaning down to kiss her. “I’ll be as sappy as you want. Later.”

  “Okay.”

  He sat down in the other chair, looking over the notes she had spread all over the table. “You’ve been busy.”

  “It’s been fun,” she said, surprised to find she meant it. “Here, let me show you.” She turned the pad around and showed him the outline of the plan for her business. “If I were to capitalize enough, I could get office space pretty quickly.”

  “I don’t think it’ll be a problem. What are
you going to do about TruStructure?”

  She copied his posture, leaning back in the chair. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to call them and say screw you. Another part of me is scared to death to start this whole thing, and I want to call them and say, ‘Hey, I’m exonerated, when can I come back?’”

  “You really do have grounds for a lawsuit, you know, especially since you have been cleared of all charges. We got the letter this morning, by the way.”

  “Oh, good. But do I want to do that? Open that can of worms?”

  They discussed it for a while, and his insights were right on target. She showed him the listing sheet for the house, too, and told him about Kuhman and the walk-through. He didn’t seem surprised that the house was near his place in Lansdowne.

  “That’s a lot of work to take on, especially if you’re starting a new business as well.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “With both houses, the dogs, everything changes.”

  “I know.” She hesitated, not sure how to tell him what she was feeling.

  “But?”

  “It feels right.”

  Paul leaned back again. “Then it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Wow. Really?”

  Her expression must have been shocked because a grinning Paul shifted forward to tap her lower jaw, pat it back up into place. “Really. C’mon.”

  “Where?”

  “Pack up, I’m taking you to lunch. We’ll start our celebrating early.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Good evening, my dear.” Mr. Pratt greeted her in the lobby later that night with a satisfied smile and a single rose. “Beauty needs no adornment, but I thought you might enjoy this.”

  “You are delightful, Mister Pratt.”

  “Call me Pratt, my dear. My late wife was fond of that, and I find I like it.”

  “Well, then, Pratt, shall we?”

  “With pleasure.” He offered his arm, and they strolled out to the limousine parked under the portico of the hotel. Torie tensed slightly, scanning the parking area and the street. “Something wrong, my dear?”

  “A little nervous, I guess, about the bodyguards.”

  He patted her hand where it lay on his arm. “Not to worry, they’re there. No worries, either, about the group. They don’t bite. Quite the contrary, in fact. They’re a remarkably friendly crew for lawyers.”