Jeanne Adams - Dark and Deadly

“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.”