Diana Palmer - The Maverick / Magnate's Make-Believe Mistress

“Don’t worry,” Barbara said as the broom and pail and a couple of paper towels were handed to her. “I’ll make sure word gets around. Before lunch tomorrow,” she added, still laughing.

After that, nobody tried to engage Alice in conversation about her job. The meal was pleasant and friendly. Alice liked Harley. He had a good personality, and he actually improved on closer acquaintance, as so many people didn’t. He was modest and unassuming, and he didn’t try to monopolize the conversation.

“How’s your investigation coming?” he asked when they were on second cups of black coffee.

She shrugged. “Slowly,” she replied. “We’ve got a partial number, possibly a telephone number, a stolen car whose owner didn’t know it was stolen and a partial sneaker track that we’re hoping someone can identify.”

“I saw a program on the FBI lab that showed how they do that,” Harley replied. He stopped immediately as soon as he realized what he’d said. He sat with his fork poised in midair, eyeing Alice’s refilled coffee mug.

She laughed. “Not to worry. I’ll control my reflexes. Actually the lab does a very good job running down sneaker treads,” she added. “The problem is that most treads are pretty common. You get the name of a company that produces them and then start wearing out shoe leather going to stores and asking for information about people who bought them.”

“What about people who paid cash and there’s no record of their buying them?”

“I never said investigation techniques were perfect,” she returned, smiling. “We use what we can get.”

He frowned. “Those numbers, it shouldn’t be that hard to isolate a telephone number, should it? You could narrow it down with a computer program.”

“Yes, but there are so many possible combinations, considering that we don’t even have the area code.” She groaned. “And we’ll have to try every single one.”

He pursed his lips. “The car, then. Are you sure the person who owned it didn’t have a connection to the murder victim?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Ever considered a career in law enforcement?”

He laughed. “I did, once. A long time ago.” He grimaced, as if the memory wasn’t a particularly pleasant one.

“We’re curious about the car,” she said, “but they don’t want to spook the car’s owner. It turns out that she works for a particularly unpleasant member of the political community.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Who?”

She hesitated.

“Come on. I’m a clam. Ask my boss.”

“Okay. It’s the senior U.S. senator from Texas who lives in San Antonio,” she confessed.

Harley made an ungraceful movement and sat back in his chair. He stared toward the window without really seeing anything. “You think the politician may be connected in some way?”

“There’s no way of knowing right now,” she sighed. “Everybody big in political circles has people who work for them. Anybody can get involved with a bad person and not know it.”

“Are they going to question the car owner?”

“I’m sure they will, eventually. They just want to pick the right time to do it.”

He toyed with his coffee cup. “So, are you staying here for a while?”

She grimaced. “A few more days, just to see if I can develop any more leads. Hayes Carson wants me to look at the car while the lab’s processing it, so I guess I’ll go up to San Antonio for that and come back here when I’m done.”

He just nodded, seemingly distracted.

She studied him with a whimsical expression. “So, when are we getting married?” she asked.

He gave her an amused look. “Not today. I have to move cattle.”

“My schedule is very flexible,” she assured him.

He smiled. “Mine isn’t.”

“Rats.”

“Now, that’s interesting, I was just thinking about rats. I have to get cat food while I’m in town.”

She blinked. “Cat food. For rats?”

“We keep barn cats to deal with the rat problem,” he explained. “But there aren’t quite enough mice and rats to keep the cats healthy, so we supplement.”

“I like cats,” she said with a sigh and a smile. “Maybe we could adopt some stray ones when we get married.” She frowned. “Now that’s going to be a problem.”

“Cats are?”

“No. Where are we going to live?” she persisted. “My job is in San Antonio and yours is here. I know,” she said, brightening. “I’ll commute!”

He laughed. She made him feel light inside. He finished his coffee. “Better work on getting the bridegroom first,” he pointed out.

“Okay. What sort of flowers do you like, and when are we going on our first date?”

He pursed his lips. She was outrageously forward, but behind that bluff personality, he saw something deeper and far more fragile. She was shy. She was like a storefront with piñatas and confetti that sold elegant silverware. She was disguising her real persona with an exaggerated one.

He leaned back in his chair, feeling oddly arrogant at her interest in him. His eyes narrowed and he smiled. “I was thinking we might take in a movie at one of those big movie complexes in San Antonio. Friday night.”

“Ooooooh,” she exclaimed, bright-eyed. “I like science fiction.”

“So do I, and there’s a remake of a 1950’s film playing. I wouldn’t mind seeing it.”

“Neither would I.”

“I’ll pick you up at your motel about five. We’ll have dinner and take in the movie afterward. That suit you?”

She was nodding furiously. “Should I go ahead and buy the rings?” she asked with an innocent expression.

He chuckled. “I told you, I’m too tied up right now for weddings.”

She snapped her fingers. “Darn!”

“But we can see a movie.”

“I like movies.”

“Me, too.”

They paid for their respective meals and walked out together, drawing interest from several of the café patrons. Harley hadn’t been taking any girls around with him lately, and here was this cute CSI lady from San Antonio having lunch with him. Speculation ran riot.

“They’ll have us married by late afternoon,” he remarked, nodding toward the windows, where curious eyes were following their every move.

“I’ll go back in and invite them all to the wedding, shall I?” she asked at once.

“Kill the engine, dude,” he drawled in a perfect imitation of the sea turtle in his favorite cartoon movie.

“You so totally rock, Squirt!” she drawled back.

He laughed. “Sweet. You like cartoon movies, too?”

“Crazy about them,” she replied. “My favorite right now is Wall-E, but it changes from season to season. They just get better all the time.”

“I liked Wall-E, too,” he agreed. “Poignant story. Beautiful soundtrack.”

“My sentiments, exactly. That’s nice. When we have kids, we’ll enjoy taking them to the theater to see the new cartoon movies.”

He took off his hat and started fanning himself. “Don’t mention kids or I’ll faint!” he exclaimed. “I’m already having hot flashes, just considering the thought of marriage!”

She glared at him. “Women have hot flashes when they enter menopause,” she said, emphasizing the first word.

He lifted his eyebrows and grinned. “Maybe I’m a woman in disguise,” he whispered wickedly.

She wrinkled her nose up and gave him a slow, interested scrutiny from his cowboy boots to his brown hair. “It’s a really good disguise,” she had to agree. She growled, low in her throat, and smiled. “Tell you what, after the movie, we can undress you and see how good a disguise it really is.”

“Well, I never!” he exclaimed, gasping. “I’m not that kind of man, I’ll have you know! And if you keep talking like that, I’ll never marry you. A man has his principles. You’re just after my body!”