Mad About You (boxed set of beloved romances)

by Stephanie Bond

  "Um, yes," she said, reaching into the bag and taking the other one. She studied his impassive face as he broke the cookie in two and took a crumbly bite.

  "This is your life, isn't it?" she asked, hearing the wonder in her own voice.

  A tiny frown crimped the area between his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

  "Secret phone calls, informants, guns, investigations—you know, high drama."

  "You make it sound glamorous," he said with a small laugh.

  "Isn't it?"

  He chewed another bite of cookie before answering. "It isn't boring, but it's far from glamorous, I assure you."

  "But the travel, the danger—"

  "Is exhausting," he said, punctuated by an abbreviated nod. "I'm rather glad to be rid of it full-time."

  "So from now on, you can pick and choose your assignments?"

  He nodded, his smile satisfied. "In fact, I took this job primarily to learn a bit about the fine arts industry. I have a job offer at the Webster museum in London to look into some improprieties, but I had little better than a layman's understanding." He took a sip of the coffee, then another. "Mr. Muldoon was kind enough to give me a crash course during our lengthy flight, and you have added to my knowledge as well." He gave her hand a friendly pat, as if she were a helpful pet instead of the woman with whom he'd most recently shared his body.

  "So you're going to take the London museum job?" she asked, her heart contracting at the thought of him returning to England.

  "If I ever get to leave this place," he said, revealing one dimple in a dry half-grin. He bent his head to check his phone, then frowned.

  "Is that Tenner?" she asked, finishing her coffee. She felt a crushing urgency to solve the case and release James from his inconvenient obligation.

  "No, I was just checking to see if I'd missed his call," he said. "And I wonder what's taking so bloody long."

  "According to Denise, Gloria doesn't live far from here, so we can get there in no time. Let's take a walk."

  He shrugged, exhibiting typical male disinterest in window-shopping. "Sure."

  But Kat wasn't interested in shopping either—she simply wanted to escape the intimate setting of the bakery where they were forced to converse over a tiny table. She didn't like this push-pull feel radiating between them; it was too awkward and too draining.

  She set off in the direction of the trolley car, walking slowly to hide the turmoil inside her head. They strolled by several T-shirt shops, a butcher shop that featured some pretty unappetizing fare hanging in the window, and a few furniture stores. Outside one of the more upscale boutiques, Kat stopped by a rack of men's fine silk ties and fingered through them, thinking of Valmer. He'd already told her he wouldn't accept money for her representation, but she wanted to give him some small token of her thankfulness.

  "I'm going to buy this for Val," she said, selecting a teal-colored tie with tiny yellow shadow boxes.

  *****

  "Nice," James agreed, walking his fingers through several on the rack. Kat was very thoughtful person, he decided, thinking he probably should select a gift for his sister while he had the time. He followed Kat inside, pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. She definitely had chosen one of the nicer shops—marble floors, twinkling chandeliers. An impressive array of clothing, jewelry, intricate china, and art spilled upward to a second story.

  A tall glass cabinet filled with figurines caught his eye and he made his way toward it. Most of the statues were various forms of Oriental erotica: nude figures, both sexes, separate but entwineable in various positions to form an add-on orgy of massive proportions if the collector desired. Like the diversity of the human body, some of the primitive figurines boasted flamboyant breasts and genitals, some were nearly androgynous. Jade pervaded, but wood, black soapstone, and even ivory were shown, with staggering price tags.

  "I see you found the good stuff," Kat said near his shoulder. She held a small paper bag under her arm as she returned her wallet to her purse.

  "Most intriguing," he admitted, a bit flustered from her sudden appearance. "Are these common?"

  "Not this quality."

  "Quite dear," he noted, indicating the price tags.

  "And these are fairly new pieces," she added. "Antique erotica figurines bring astronomical prices. Jellico's buys every one we can get our hands on, but the old ones rarely come on the market."

  "I rather like these," James said. "Would you help me choose a couple of pieces?"

  Her head swung around, her eyes slightly questioning. Looking into those blue depths, James saw something that struck terror in his heart: a nucleus around which to build a future. For the first time in his life, he felt...did he dare even think it? Defenseless.

  "I'm asking for your professional advice on an investment," he assured her, detaching himself from the implied intimacy surrounding the figurines.

  She pressed her lips together, nodding. "Of course. What is your price range?"

  "My price range is the cost of whichever two you choose."

  "I didn't realize you were a collector."

  "I'm not," he confessed. "Simply because I've never before found anything I deemed worth collecting."

  Giving him a small smile, she turned and waved for a sales clerk. Once the cabinet was open, she accepted a pair of cotton gloves from the woman and walked around the cabinet, scrutinizing every piece on the four shelves.

  He watched her move—her brow furrowed in concentration, her eyes alight with excitement—and again he was struck by the sensuality she exuded. She picked up a few of the figures one by one, weighed them in her gloved hand, then examined them closely. A couple she even went so far as to caress, paying special attention to a standing jade male about ten inches tall, thick through the shoulders and thighs and heavily sexed. His arms, crudely fashioned but effectively rendered, were slightly lifted, as if he were reaching out to someone.

  She replaced the figure, and looked up. "Do you have a preference?"

  He smiled and crossed his arms, enjoying himself immensely. "Actually, I was thinking one male and one female."

  Kat gave him a wry smile, then nudged aside a kneeling ivory male to select a wooden female, lying on her side, knees bent. "I had assumed that much, but as far as the materials are concerned, or the...um...the positions?"

  She blushed adorably, he decided. "All of the materials are superb. And as far as the positions go"—he grinned and splayed his hands—"I don't discriminate."

  "D-Do you have a special place in mind to display them?" she asked, turning her attention back to the cabinet.

  "My library, or perhaps my bedroom," he said, but instead of picturing the statues on display, all he could conjure up were images of Kat moving through his big, drafty home, adding warmth in her wake. He forced his attention back to the present, and noticed she had once again returned to the big jade male.

  "I like him too," he announced, causing her to glance up.

  She frowned. "He doesn't seem to have a partner, though. As magnificent as they are, all the females seem so...so insignificant next to him."

  The Chinese saleswoman, who had faded into the background, made a clucking noise. "Very observant—the owner has the female in his office upstairs."

  James pursed his lips. "May we see her?"

  The woman hesitated, then nodded curtly. "I will bring her."

  The instant he saw her, James wanted her. Buxom and lush-hipped, her hair pooled behind her on the ground to counterbalance her arched body, thrust forward to meet her missing partner. When the clerk set her in front of the male, her energy flowed into his. They might have been carved from the same stone, a perfect complement...yin and yang.

  "How much?" James asked, striving to keep the urgency out of his voice.

  The woman remained silent for several seconds, her gaze straight ahead, her mouth twisting in thought. James caught Kat's gaze and, wondering if he should make an offer, lifted his eyebrows. But she answered with an a
lmost imperceptible shake of her head.

  Another moment passed, and the woman seemed to be struggling with her decision. At last, she nodded and named a price—double the price of the male, but half of what James had been willing to pay.

  "Done," he said, relief and something akin to joy filling his chest. After the woman secured the cabinet, James also selected a silk shawl for his sister, glad when Kat seconded his choice of black and silver.

  "That was quite a coup," Kat said when the woman disappeared to pack the treasures.

  "I'm rather pleased," he admitted. "Thank you for your inspiration."

  Confusion flitted over her face and she shook her head. "You cinched the deal."

  "Ah, but you have given me a heightened awareness for beautiful things." Wispy baby hair, dislodged from her bun by the trolley ride, framed her face. Her eyes were luminous, making him want to get to the person hiding behind those spectacles. That woman in his arms this morning.

  She laughed. "If I have stirred your interest in launching a collection, then I'm pleased."

  James opened his mouth to tell her exactly which of his interests she had stirred, but the woman returned, carrying two plain brown boxes, a wide smile on her face. "It's the last time they will be separated. After this, I know you will keep them together."

  Nodding in assurance, James handed her a gold credit card and said, "I hope the owner isn't too distressed when he finds her missing."

  The woman wrinkled her nose and dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. "He's my husband, and he doesn't deserve her."

  He felt touched that the woman was willing to anger her spouse in order to see the "couple" together—and awed that the woman trusted him to honor the pair's bond.

  The woman walked around the counter and handed one box to James, one to Kat, then tucked the bag with the shawl beneath his arm. "Happiness to you both," she said as they left the store, and it struck him that she thought he and Kat were a couple too.

  He had never been part of a couple, and the label wrapped around him like a starched flannel robe straight from the clothier's—rather ill-fitting and uncomfortable, but tolerable because it had the potential of becoming a favored garment.

  Out on the sidewalk, Kat smirked in his direction. "That was a very expensive little trip."

  "But worth it," James proclaimed, happier than in recent memory. He felt a faint vibration at his waist. "And that must be Tenner," he said, nodding to his phone. For once the detective's timing was perfect.

  Chapter Eleven

  GLORIA HANDELMAN was also a late riser, Kat noted wryly, considering the afternoon hour of three o'clock was nearly half spent when the woman answered the door in roomy striped pajamas. Kat would have recognized her, but the changes she'd made to herself were blatantly irreverent—perhaps part of a "coming out" statement?

  She was a thin, angular person, boyishly built and sporting cropped, peroxide-white hair. At least ten earrings studded the rims of both ears. When Tenner waved his badge, she yawned widely and held her temple as if she had a headache. Or a hangover.

  "You’d better not be selling Amway," she said, her thin, crooked eyebrows crumpled together.

  "Ms. Handelman, we have a search warrant for your apartment. I'm Detective Tenner from the city police department. This is Agent James Donovan and—"

  "Katherine?" The woman's eyes widened. "What the hell is going on?"

  Kat stepped forward. "There was a break-in at Jellico's Friday night."

  The woman's mouth twisted and she nodded. "Oh, yeah—the letter. Dad called and said Mom was inconsolable, then asked what the hell he was going to do about a birthday gift. I suggested getting her a woman, but he wasn't amused."

  Kat smiled awkwardly, trying to squash the image of this woman with her best friend. "Detective Tenner would like to ask you some questions—may we come in?"

  Officers Campbell and Raines didn't wait for an answer, but simply stepped into the apartment and split up. Gloria gave them a murderous look. "Know that anything you morons break is probably worth both your salaries for a year." She turned back to the door and squinted. "Detective, um, Tenner, is it? Do you know who my father is?"

  "Yep...can I use your bathroom?" He rubbed his stomach. "The chili dog I had for lunch is working on me."

  Kat smothered a smile.

  Gloria scowled. "Try the gas station across the street."

  "Okay," Tenner said cheerfully. "After we talk."

  Anger lit her eyes, then Gloria stepped back sweeping her arm magnanimously. "I don't know how I can help, but sure, come on in—what is this, Sunday afternoon?"

  The woman’s apartment was breathtaking, filled with expensive, smart furnishings and dressed in an offbeat flair that Kat bet was Gloria's doing, and no designer's.

  "I'm sure you'll understand if I don't offer you a seat," she said, smiling tightly.

  "That's all right," Tenner said, rubbing his stomach again. "I probably should stand. Now then, can you account for your whereabouts Saturday morning between the hours of midnight and one o'clock?"

  Confusion clouded her pale eyes and she shook her head slightly. "Wait a minute—you think I broke into the museum?" She laughed in high-pitched amusement and dropped into an armless leopard-skin chair. "Detective, that is the most fun I've been accused of in a while."

  "So you have an alibi?" Tenner pressed.

  She smiled dreamily, as if a life of crime was a direction she hadn't considered, but might give serious thought. Then she looked heavenward. "Let's see, I was at Barishka's Friday night—or was that last night?" She glanced back to Tenner. "No, I'm sure it was Friday. Dragged myself home around three or three-thirty."

  "That's a lesbian bar right?"

  Gloria nodded. "Lesbians, drag queens, and wide-eyed, curious heteros."

  "Did you go to the bar after you visited Denise Womack at Ms. McKray's apartment?" the detective asked, pursing his lips.

  She gave Kat a surprised look. "Oh, you know about that. Well, I for one am glad it's out in the open, although I'm not sure Denise is ready to deal with it just yet. She's worried about what you'll think, Katherine."

  "What prompted your visit to Ms. McKray's?" James asked, breaking his silence for the first time.

  Gloria flicked her eyes over him appreciatively. "To give Denise a check for a down payment on her condo—why she wants the dump, though, I can't fathom."

  Tenner grunted. "Did she need the check that night?"

  She shook her head. "I think she has a few weeks to get the money together. But Kat's place is on the way to the club where I work out, and I wanted to give Denise some peace of mind. We had a cup of coffee and cold pizza."

  "Detective," Officer Raines interrupted, holding up a large black gym bag he'd pulled from a coat closet. Tenner walked over to retrieve it, then unzipped it and rifled through the contents.

  "If you're looking for dirty underwear, you're out of luck," Gloria offered dryly.

  "Ms. Handelman," James said, crossing his arms, "would you mind telling us why you left Jellico's?"

  Gloria shrugged her bony shoulders. "Boredom—oh, sometimes it was exciting, but the day-in, day-out stuff was a drag."

  "Yeah," Tenner chimed in. "Working for a living stinks, doesn't it?"

  Her thin mouth pulled back into an arrogant smile.

  He handed the bag back to Raines, then frowned at Gloria. "Ms. McKray tells us your family wanted that letter badly...bad enough for you to steal it?"

  Kat shifted nervously at the expression on Gloria's face. Tenner was treading on thin ice—the woman could have him for a snack if she wanted.

  "Detective, my parents derive their enjoyment of having an expensive manuscript collection from being able to display it prominently and make all their rich friends green with envy. I can assure you they have no interest in something which has to be squirreled away for fear of prosecution."

  "What about you?"

  "I'm only interested in Victorian correspondence be
tween homosexual lovers—if it turns out he wrote the letter to a man, call me. And as for as hiding anything—" Her gaze cut to James. "Everything about me is available for inspection."

  One of James's dimples appeared and Kat felt an irrational zing of jealousy. Gloria Handelman was notoriously bisexual.

  Tenner was growing impatient. "I'll need the names of people who saw you at Barishka's around midnight."

  She shrugged again, searching her memory. "Everyone on the staff knows me, and the regular weekend customers were there—wait a minute." A wicked smile crept across her face. "Here's the name of someone you might know...Ronald Beaman."

  Shock bolted through Kat. "Ronald?"

  "Jellico's head of security?" James asked.

  Gloria nodded, pleased with herself. "Ron likes to dress up on his nights off—he has a bent toward long, feminine skirts and high heels."

  Tenner expelled a noisy sigh and scratched his head. "Wigs?"

  "Dark, shoulder-length. Looks pretty good too."

  The detective winced. "Damn."

  "You should drop by there tonight. On Sundays they have a drag queen pageant at seven, with talent competition and everything." She winked. "And Ron does a great Tina Turner impression."

  *****

  James felt more than a little self-conscious standing offstage with Tenner and Kat, waiting for Ron Beaman to finish a teeth-jarring rendition of "Proud Mary." The detective had hoped to catch Beaman off guard, and from the gaped expression on the man's face when he skipped off stage, blowing kisses to the audience, Tenner had certainly achieved his goal.

  "Nice duds, Beaman," Tenner said sarcastically.

  "H-How..." The security guard was speechless, his hand to his fake bosom, his eyes darting from face to face.

  "Never mind how," Tenner barked. "Where were you Friday night between midnight and one o'clock?"

  "H-Here," Ronald whispered, dragging the wig from his head to reveal a stocking cap. Without the hair, his fake eyelashes and heavy makeup looked clownish.