Jeanne Adams - Dark and Deadly

Paul seemed taken by surprise as well. “Uh, it’s afternoon, but thanks.”

“You’re welcome. What’s up?”

“Tibbet would like to meet with you. Do you want to go to the station, or meet him here?”

“Your office would be better, if that’s okay.”

“Does three-thirty work?”

“That’s fine.”

Paul sounded totally nonplussed as she confirmed the time, wished him a good afternoon, and told him good-bye.

“Mending fences?”

“Trying it your way.”

Pam smiled. “My way’s not always so hot. Hasn’t been working for me in the last few days.”

“Give it time,” Torie said, then reached out to press Pam’s arm in sympathy. “Still no word?”

“No. I called his office. He called in, asked for vacation they said.”

“So he’s not missing.”

Pam shook her head, visibly fighting tears. “No. Just missing from my life.” With a shake of her shoulders, she tossed her hair back and smiled. It was patently fake, but she smiled. “I’ve gotten the message. It had to happen at some point, I guess.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Getting dumped. Now I know what it feels like,” she added. “So now I know better. I’ll do my own dumping differently.”

“Uh huh,” Torie said, fairly sure that would never happen. “Either way, I think he’ll be back. And he’ll have an explanation.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t matter enough for him to tell me what this was about before he took off. Which means I don’t matter, you see?”

“Maybe.” It was Torie’s turn to waffle on the answer.

Before they could discuss it further, Kuhman joined them at the table.

“Ah, so wonderful to have the company of two such lovely ladies,” he said with a slight bow for them both. “I hate to tarnish it with business, but such is life, eh?”

Torie enjoyed the theatrics, and let Pam and Kuhman battle it out as they haggled over what she could and couldn’t do to the house, and what the owners would and wouldn’t pay for.

“I want an option to buy at current market price built into the rental agreement,” Torie interjected.

Kuhman paused, eyebrows raised, then laughed. “Ah, Pam, my dear, your friend is shrewd. I will include it. I’ll put together some current comparables, and we will agree on fair market value, yes?”

Torie winked at him, surprising him. “Taking into account the current state of the property.”

“Very good,” Kuhman said, smiling. Turning to Pam, he added, “Very, very shrewd, your friend.”

Back at the hotel, she surveyed her meager wardrobe. Tomorrow, shopping.

“I guess I should say more shopping,” she said, flipping the hangers of the gorgeous dresses she’d been coerced to buy. With them sitting in the closet, she had resigned herself to going to the partner’s dinner. “God, I’m tired of shopping.”

The lease for the house caught her eye. That was going to be shopping she’d enjoy. Furniture. Wallpaper. It would be a blast to work with Pam to set both houses back to their glory.

Things would change for the better.

It went right along with the other changes she was feeling. It was as if she’d been ill for a long time, and was finally feeling better, returning to health and energy. She felt like she had a new lease on life.

The phone rang before she could think anymore about the dinner.

“Hello?” It was the front desk. They had flowers for her.

“Would you like us to send a bellman up with them?”

“Yes, please.” Who would be sending her flowers? Her firm? They’d sent the ones in the hospital, but those had been destroyed at the Extended Suites, after the car fire. She grimaced at the thought. So much had happened in the span of a few short weeks.

“A month now,” she counted aloud. “More than a month.”

A knock at the door stopped her musings.

The flowers were gorgeous. She tipped the boy, and carried them to the desk. “Wow,” she said, burying her face in the roses. They actually had a scent, which was unusual for hot house roses. “Beautiful,” she breathed. Taking up the card, she ripped it open.

Save me a dance.

“Paul.” She breathed his name. A rush of…something, some feeling poured through her. It had been a long time since anyone had sent her flowers, simply because.

She thought of his apology, so heartfelt. Of his concern, his time and energy over the last few weeks. When had they shifted from dislike to…something else? Dare she call it love? On her part, anyway.

He felt something, too, though. That she knew.

With a light heart, she dressed and caught a cab to his office for the three-thirty meeting with Tibbet. Once Martha had showed her in, she waited until the door closed before she walked toward the desk.

Paul set the phone down, finishing a call. Without pausing at the chairs, she walked around the desk. It was a little awkward, but it felt right, so she leaned down to kiss him on the mouth.

She wanted it to be a token of appreciation, a thank you. More intimate, perhaps, than the words, but no more than a happy acknowledgment of his kindness.

Within seconds, it turned into far more.

“Torie,” he murmured, sliding his hands into her hair and bringing her close. Without letting go, he stood and took her mouth in a searing kiss that rocked her to her shoes. “I missed you,” he said, breaking the kiss long enough to utter the words before diving back in, firing her senses with passionate kisses.

Striving for balance, she gripped his waist, swayed toward him. Just as their bodies met, the phone on the desk buzzed.

They whipped apart as if they’d been shocked.

“Jesus,” Paul gasped, nearly falling into his chair. He took a deep breath and pressed the button. “Yes?”

To Torie he sounded breathless, impatient.

“Sorry to disturb you, but Detective Tibbet is on his way up.”

“Thank you.” Paul was curt, and cut her off. Torie had moved to the other side of the desk, putting distance between them. Paul wasn’t interested in distance. He came around to stand in front of her, pull her to her feet.

“What was that?” He didn’t wait for her to speak. “Never mind. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her under his chin and holding on as if she were a lifeline and he a drowning man.

“Are you okay?” she managed to say, her face muffled into his shirt.

“No,” he said, and she could hear the unsteady beat of his heart. “Yes.”

“Which is it?” she asked, smiling. It felt good to be in his arms. There were things they had to talk about, but for the moment, it felt exactly right.

“Do you forgive me?”

“I think so. Maybe.”

“Then it’s both.”

“That’s a good lawyerlike answer,” she said with a lighter heart.

He laughed, and she felt as well as heard the rumble of it.

“Tibbet’s probably here.” She pulled back, looked at his face. “You have lipstick on your cheek.”

“Do I?” he said softly, gazing into her eyes. “I’ll have to do something about that.” He made no move to let her go.

“Thank you for the flowers.”

“Ah, is that what the kiss was for?”

She nodded, adding, “It was supposed to be a friendly gesture.”

“Back to the Truce-with-Torie?”

She nodded, unable to read the intense look in his dark eyes.

“Good. We’ll talk about that. In the meantime,” he said, lowering his head and pressing his lips to hers in a clinging, gentle touch. “We should talk about the past.”

Her senses were so fired up, so mixed up, she nearly missed what he’d said.

“What? The past?”

Paul closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked sober, and Torie could see the traces of a sleepless night in his pallor.