Delores Fossen - Veiled Intentions

“I smell success,” Merrick greeted.

No all-American, surfer-dude smile from him. It was on the mechanical side. Probably no perverted, name-tag-pinning intentions, either. He looked more like the Ivy League type. And was. Old money. And from all accounts Perfect Match was a gift from his megasuccessful father. A way of keeping Addison a productive member of society. So far, it’d worked. Despite a fairly recent dip in business, it was the most successful agency of its type in the city.

“Kate Kennedy, Joe Farrell,” Merrick continued. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome.”

She felt Joe stiffen slightly but couldn’t ask him why. It probably had something to do with the guard who was studying them a little too carefully.

Joe extended his hand to Merrick. “Thanks. It looks like joining Perfect Match was the wise thing to do.” He smiled lovingly at Katelyn before he slid his attention back to Merrick. “By the way, a friend of mine said he might be here tonight. Chad Benton. Have you seen him?”

Chad Benton? Katelyn had no idea what this was about. There was no one by that name associated with this case.

Merrick shook his head. “We’re expecting a big crowd so you might want to check to see if your friend’s name tag is on the table.”

Merrick’s suggestion was just the beginning, however, and not a prelude to a departure. He wasted no time latching on to her hand, and like a good host, he introduced Joe and her to the other couple. By the time he’d finished, more clients had started to trickle in.

Bruce Donovan did his hosting duties, as well. He began pouring the champagne—lots of it. Nothing like alcohol to kick up the libido and lower the defenses. The piped-in music switched to a slow, sultry beat.

“What about that little problem?” she asked Joe the moment Merrick walked away. She looped her arm through his and leaned against him, snuggling, so she could speak as softly as possible.

“Someone’s watching the place.”

Okay. Maybe it wasn’t so little after all. “Any idea who?”

“Yeah.”

Again, no explanation since groping-boy, Bruce Donovan, walked up to them with a tray of filled champagne glasses. Even when they both declined, the man didn’t move far enough away for them to have a private conversation.

Joe remedied that. Smiling and whispering sweet nothings about how glad he was to see her again, he led Katelyn to the far end of the room and then just inside the hallway that led to the agency’s offices. He angled them so they wouldn’t be facing the camera in the reception room.

“Fiona Shipley,” Joe informed her. When the static crackled in their respective communicators, he turned his off, because the now close proximity was interfering with reception. “She’s parked outside watching the building.”

Katelyn didn’t have to ask who that was. Fiona was a regular client at Perfect Match and a former acquaintance of Raul Hernandez, the murdered groom, and that was former acquaintance in a really bad way. After Fiona and Raul had met, dated and then broken up, she had apparently threatened him. The police had been looking for her but hadn’t been able to locate her—not since she’d quit her job and moved out of her apartment. Apparently though, she’d come to them.

“No sign of her carrying an assault rifle, huh?” Katelyn asked, only partly joking.

“Not that I could see, but I’ve got two officers in a surveillance van watching her just in case.” Joe glanced over his shoulder and mumbled some profanity. “Play along.”

That was it. No other warning. No hint that he was about to launch into a full-contact charade.

Joe pushed her against the wall and kissed her. He pressed his body against her. Snugly against her. Until they were aligned like human puzzle parts.

Katelyn caught a glimpse of Addison Merrick watching them from the reception room. So this was Joe’s version of a get-lost tactic.

Joe kept the mouth-to-mouth clinical. Well, as clinical as something like that could be, considering he had a rather hot kissing technique. No tongue involved. Just pressure. The right amount of pressure, glide and moisture to make her wish, at least temporarily, that he’d use his tongue.

He didn’t stop there. His kisses traveled from her mouth. To her cheek. To her ear.

Not good.

She bit off a moan of pleasure. It seemed trivial, considering everything else that was going on, but if these forced kissing sessions continued, she would need to set some ground rules so he could go easy on her erogenous zones.

“Any suspicious activity around the perimeter of the building?” Joe murmured.

Not exactly the sensual question her body had expected to hear from the man kissing her, and it took her a moment to realize Joe was speaking to the officer monitoring the communicator under her collar.

“Fiona Shipley’s still watching the place,” was the response they got.

Obviously unaware of the effect he was having on her, Joe continued his inquiries while pretending to nibble on her earlobe. “Tail her if she leaves.”

Normally, whispered official orders wouldn’t have been a turn on for her, but Joe’s warm, moist breath hit against her neck and ear. Mercy. Not good. She didn’t want to add any more hormones to this volatile mix.

Another glance at the reception area. No Addison Merrick in sight. At least their kissing session had sent him on his way.

“Merrick knew our names,” Joe informed her. “I wasn’t wearing a name tag, and he never looked at yours. Yet, he knew who we were.”

Katelyn went back through the events of that particular introduction and realized it was true. She reprimanded herself for not noticing it, as well. “So that’s what Chad was all about?”

Not a real person but a test. Since Merrick suggested that Joe look through the name tags, it meant he didn’t know the names of all the guests. And unlike a few of the others, Joe and she weren’t repeat customers. Nor had they met him when they filled out their applications.

So how had he known their names?

“This might not be such a little problem,” Katelyn mumbled.

Joe quickly agreed.

In fact, it could mean the killer was already on to them.

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