Читать книгу Stella, Get Your Man - Nancy Bartholomew - Страница 10

Just once I’d like to have a plan go my way. Just one time. Was that too much to ask? I stood in what had been my bedroom, clutching my towel and clean clothes to my chest, watching as Jake rolled off the bed, fully dressed, and proceeded to search for his shoes. He should have been fast asleep.

“She asked for me. I’m going.”

I adjusted my towel turban, tightened my hold on the jeans that were wrapped around my underwear and bra, and gave him the no-shit-I-mean-business stare.

“You are mortally wounded, remember?” I said. “That’s how you scammed your way into Aunt Lucy’s house and my bed, isn’t it? You’ve been gut shot. You need my aunt to tend to your every need. You can’t go see clients in the office. I’ll handle it and you can hear about the job later.”

Jake found his lizard-skin boots, pulled them on slowly and gave me a look of his own. I was working on becoming immune to the way he looked at me, but so far I found myself weak-kneed every time.

“What’s the matter, Stella? Afraid I’ll be tougher than you? Afraid you can’t keep up?”

He stood and took two steps toward me.

“Be careful. Remember, you’re wounded.”

Jake smiled. “Funny, it hardly hurts at all.” He reached me, his hands reaching to grip the sides of my arms.

“Jake, you’re out of your mind on pain medicine. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

I felt my grip go weak on the clothes I held in front of me and clutched tighter to keep my towel wrapped securely around my body. He stepped closer, towering over me, his breath hot on the side of my neck.

“Why, Stella, you’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“I’m not scared of you, Jake.” My voice cracked into a squeak that told him I was lying, only believe me, I wasn’t really afraid of him, just a little…apprehensive maybe? I actually had come in only because I’d forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom. If I’d known he was awake, I would have asked my aunt to get them.

Jake ran the index finger of his right hand down the side of my face, the work-roughened skin exciting every nerve ending as it moved.

“I think you’re scared, Stella,” he whispered, cupping my chin with the crook of his finger. “I think you’re very scared.”

He bent his head toward me. My stomach pitched and his lips met mine. Finally.

The clothes hit the floor. The towel followed. I heard his foot kick the door shut behind us as I pressed into him. The rough fabric of his denim shirt brushed across the tips of my nipples and they hardened, begging for his touch.

Jake sighed. His tongue searched my mouth and mine answered him. In an entire lifetime of fantasizing, nothing could have matched the reality of Jake Carpenter’s kiss.

The turban holding my damp hair slid to the floor. Jake’s fingers raked my scalp, pulling my head back to better meet his inquisitive lips. He stroked the back of my neck in one long fluid movement that seemed to pulse with energy and heat. How long had I waited for this?

Since high school? Since the day he’d run off, too scared to elope, leaving the mousy little nerd to explain all to her aunt and uncle? Had I still been secretly waiting for him when I ran off to reinvent myself? Because I know I’d been waiting for this moment ever since my return to tiny Glenn Ford, Pennsylvania. But did I really want Jake, or did I just want him to want me so I could be the one to walk away?

His fingers slipped down my back, circled my waist and moved up toward my breasts. His hot mouth bruised my lips as I answered him with a passion I didn’t know myself capable of feeling. I felt him harden against me and knew I had Jake Carpenter in the palm of my hand. I could finally pay him back for every moment of agony he’d put me through eleven long years ago.

So why then didn’t I break it off and leave him there, wanting me and never being able to have me? Why was I lingering when I owed the son of a bitch a good and final payback? I mean, it wasn’t as if he was really my type, now, was he?

Jake’s thumb and forefinger found my left nipple, squeezed softly, and then pinched harder as I moaned and my knees went weak.

Okay. What was the better revenge, really? To leave him all worked up, or to get my needs met and leave him wanting?

Oh, definitely the latter. I mean, after sleeping in the cold, dank basement on Uncle Benny’s couch, didn’t I deserve a little satisfaction?

I felt his left hand moving down my side, felt him guiding us toward the bed, and knew I was going for all I could get before I rolled away and said, “There, that’s what you get for jilting me and humiliating me in high school!”

We half fell backward onto the bed and Jake only winced once as he rolled onto his left side and shifted to find a comfortable position. Once he’d settled in, his hands began to explore every tender, responsive inch of my body. When his fingers slipped between my legs, I stopped breathing. Oh, yes, this was definitely the good part. Oh, please hurry, I begged silently.

I grabbed the waistband of his jeans and fumbled with the button. Might as well do some exploring of my own, I figured.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” I whispered.

I felt the button give, tugged at the zipper, and was rewarded with a gasp from Jake as my fingers found smooth, hardened skin.

Jake rose up onto one elbow and stared into my eyes. His fingers moved closer and closer and if he didn’t touch me soon I was going to have to beg. Without a word, he read my mind, and I felt his fingers plunge deep inside me.

Oh, yes, I was going to enjoy this. I was going to…

“Stella! You in there?” Nina banged on the door. “Hey! We need to leave! It’s almost three-thirty. Isn’t she coming at four?” More banging.

I jumped off the bed, snatched my towel off the floor and wrapped it tightly around my torso. What in the hell had I been thinking?

“Yeah,” I called. “I’m coming!”

“Does Jake need anything before we go?” she asked.

I looked at the man lying on my bed. He’d fallen back against the pillows, eyes shut, his facial expression the perfect picture of frustration. Revenge was sweet, but so unfulfilling!

I struggled into my clothes, danced around the floor on one leg as I pulled my almost too-tight jeans up and quickly zipped them.

“No, he doesn’t need a thing,” I called to her.

Jake opened one eye and frowned. I stood, topless, at the end of the bed and let him suffer as I slowly, very slowly, pulled on my bra and fastened it.

“He’s not in pain, is he?” Nina asked. “Aunt Lucy says he can have another pain pill now.”

I looked at the bulge in Jake’s pants and smiled. “He may be a little uncomfortable,” I said, “but he’ll manage. He’s a tough guy.”

I smirked, pulled my black turtleneck sweater on over my head and turned to open the door.

“Wait,” he gasped, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I’m coming.”

I looked at his crotch, then at his darkened eyes. “No, you most certainly are not,” I answered.

I opened the door and Nina half fell into the tiny bedroom. She took one look at me, glanced over my shoulder at Jake and started laughing.

“You didn’t… I mean, you weren’t…” She gasped.

“No!” we both answered.

Nina’s grin broadened. “Oh, man, wait until I tell Spike!”

I glowered at her, sure that behind me, Jake was doing the same. “Nina, let’s just get going, all right?”

Nina looked miffed. “Well, don’t take it out on me!” she huffed. “I’m not the one who said she’d be at the office in an hour!”

She spun on her heel and headed down the steps, leaving me to dash off after her. When Jake didn’t follow us, I was both relieved and disappointed. He needed to stay home. After all, a gunshot wound was nothing to fool around with, even if it had been superficial.

I raced Nina to my Camaro, slid behind the wheel, cranked the engine and looked at my watch. Ten minutes. We’d make it with five to spare, even with it being rush hour. Of course, rush hour in Glenn Ford meant a four-minute commute across town instead of the usual two.

“What’s that red light mean?” Nina asked, breaking her pout.

I looked at the instrument panel.

“Damn! We need oil.”

Nina sighed. “Oh, that’s nothing! One time I drove my car with the oil light on for two weeks.”

I looked over at my pink-haired cousin. “And then?”

“Oh, well, it died forever, but that wasn’t because of the oil light. The engine block froze.”

“Nina,” I said, rolling my eyes mentally, “that’s what happens if you don’t get oil!”

Nina stared at me. “You’re kidding, right?”

I started down the driveway. “No. We have to stop.”

“But we’ll be late. You told her four and she’s paying a thousand dollars a day.”

“She’ll wait.”

“This is so totally why you need a mission statement,” she muttered.

I failed to see the connection between stopping to put oil in my car and a corporate mission statement, but I kept my mouth shut. I drove to Sheeler’s Garage, ran inside to grab two quarts of oil, and figured at most, we’d be five minutes late.

That was before Joey Smack’s representatives, in the form of a long, black sedan with dark, tinted windows saw fit to stop by Sheeler’s and give me a personal season’s greeting from their boss, aka Santa Claus, aka The Man Voted Most Pissed Off About Having His Sled Repo’ed.

I had the hood popped and was about to insert the funnel, when the car rolled to a stop beside us. The right-side passenger window slowly slid down, just far enough for an arm and a hand to emerge. The arm was wearing a charcoal-gray suit jacket and a light blue cotton shirt with cuff links. The hand was holding a gun.

“Merry Christmas!” the arm’s owner called, and started shooting.

Nina screamed and ducked down in her seat. I hopped behind the car, wedged between the pumps and the Camaro and wished like hell I’d worn a holster instead of leaving the Glock wedged down beneath the driver’s seat.

The bullets hit the right front tire, the right rear tire and the back window, before the driver of the sedan hit the accelerator and tore off out of the lot.

I heard the squeal of tires and cautiously popped my head up over the open hood and watched the getaway.

“Nina, you all right?” I called.

Nina slowly rose up from the front passenger-side floorboards and gave me a nasty look.

“We could’ve been killed!” she stormed. “Don’t you take precautions? Why didn’t you shoot them?”

“My gun was in the car,” I said.

Nina nodded an I-told-you-so nod. “See? No planning. No mission statement. That’s how you wind up in situations like this. You need to be prepared!”

“I’m sorry, honey,” I said, realizing how scared she was.

Nina shook her head. “It’s not just that they shot at us,” she said softly. “I’m used to that by now, I mean, ever since you started chasing bad guys and all, but we could’ve been better prepared, Stella, that’s all.”

Of course, that wasn’t all. Nina was right, as usual. I hadn’t been prepared. I hadn’t figured Joey Smack would go so far, but he had and we hadn’t been ready.

“You ladies okay?” The shaken garage attendant popped his head out of the door. “I called the cops, they’re on the way.”

Needless to say, we were late for the client meeting.

We pulled into the parking lot at 4:20 p.m. Nina practically flew out of the car in her rush to unlock the front door and open up the office. “Office” is a euphemistic term here. Our temporary quarters were over a print shop in what had been a long-vacant apartment in major need of renovation and cosmetic improvement.

When Nina slid her key into the door leading to the steps up to the second floor, she turned, her eyes widening.

“It’s not locked,” she whispered. “I think somebody’s up there!”

I walked back to the car, stuck my hand through the now-missing back window and pulled my Glock out from its resting place beneath my seat.

“Wait here,” I told her. “I’ll go check.”

“But what if he shoots you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, you could start by calling 911. If I’m dead, bury me in my jeans. I don’t see the sense in getting all dressed up and uncomfortable just to be buried.”

“Stella!”

“Okay, okay! Just call 911 if you hear gunshots, and stay out of the way!”

I handed her my cell phone, gently pushed open the front door and started up the stairs. I kept the gun low by my side, careful to step on the outside edges of the old stairs, and slowly moved toward the second-floor office.

I hated coming in this way. Approaching a possible bad situation from the ground floor was potential cop suicide and I knew it. If someone heard me, if they were waiting for me, I was a sitting duck.

I crawled the steps, flattened against the wall, and reached the landing. So far, so good. I paused, listening, and was rewarded with the sound of muffled voices, male and female, coming from the upstairs office.

You’d think burglars would be quieter. I snuck up three more steps, my head rising just above the hall floor. I peeked around. Nothing. I trained my gun on every possible hiding place and still saw no sign of illegal entry or Joey Smack’s people. As I listened, I heard the impossible.

Jake Carpenter’s unmistakable rumble echoed out into the hallway. He laughed and I knew for certain he was inside. When a woman’s high-pitched giggle erupted, I knew the score. Jake had beaten us to the punch. He was sitting in my office, in my high-backed desk chair, talking to our client as if I didn’t exist. Damn him!

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I jumped, spinning around to face Nina, who’d managed to sneak up the steps behind me.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought I told you to wait!” I whispered loudly.

Nina grinned and brandished the Camaro’s tire iron. “Yeah,” she replied, “you did, but now I’m armed. I can help.”

Nina cocked her head and listened intently for a moment. “Besides,” she said, brushing past me, “it’s only Jake anyhow.”

Leaving me to follow in her wake, Nina sailed through the office waiting room and on into the inner sanctum where Jake held court with our new client.

“Maybe we do need a mission statement,” I muttered. “Maybe a few people need to know who’s in charge around here.”

I stiffened my shoulders and walked behind Nina into the office. The new client sat with her back to me. She was so unconcerned with our arrival that she didn’t even turn to look over her shoulder as Nina made her entrance.

For some unknown reason this was all about Jake. I knew that much from our brief telephone conversation. She probably assumed, wrongly, that since he was the man, he would handle her investigative matter better than any mere girl. I sighed inwardly, funny how some women were like that.

Jake finally broke his contact with our new client and looked up.

“Well,” he said, smiling, “finally. We were beginning to wonder about you.”

He rose and indicated the woman sitting across from him. “Stella Valocchi, may I introduce you to Mia Lange?”

Our new client stood and for the first time I got a good look at her. A few inches shorter than my five-eight, closely cropped straight black hair, black leather jacket, short skirt, black stockings, high heels. Dressed to impress, or rather, dressed to seduce. Deep, dark eyes, small, perfect mouth, but the pout said she was not a happy woman.

I noticed something else about her, too. When she turned to me the light went out of her eyes, but when she looked at Jake she lit up like a Christmas tree. She was as phony as they came and I disliked her instantly.

I extended my hand and smiled, figuring two could play this game. “I’m sorry we’re late. We got held up.”

Her grip on my hand was like iron and she squeezed hard. I figured she wanted to see me wince, so I squeezed back. Was that the merest flicker of pain I saw cross her marble features? I smiled a little wider. Nina broke the moment.

“Held up?” she sputtered. “Well, not exactly, more like shot at by attempted murderers!”

Mia Lange’s eyebrows lifted and her mouth dropped into a perfect O of surprise, but her eyes remained coolly detached and I thought she seemed completely indifferent to Nina’s news. She released my hand, returned to her seat and dismissed me entirely.

But Nina had Jake’s complete attention. He raised his eyebrows. “What happened?”

I smiled frostily. “Don’t worry. I took care of it.”

Jake nodded, silently agreeing to discuss it later, and started to sit back down in my chair. When he caught the look I gave him, he hastily grabbed one of the spare chairs and pulled it up beside the desk.

“Here,” he said, gesturing to my chair. “Why don’t you sit here.”

I gave him a withering glance, nodded him into the spare seat and took my rightful place behind the desk. Nina was right. We were so going to have an organizational meeting just as soon as our newest client left.

“Ms. Lange.”

“Mia,” she cooed, her eyes widening and fluttering in his direction.

“Mia,” he echoed, “has asked us to find her brother. It seems they lost contact with each other after their parents died and they were adopted out.”

I felt the first tiny twinge of remorse for not liking our new client. She’d lost her parents when she was a kid, too. I’d been lucky. I got to finish growing up with my mother’s sister, Aunt Lucy, while Mia got stuck with strangers.

“I’m so sorry,” I murmured. “How old were you when this happened?”

Mia looked down at her lap. “I was very young,” she answered. “I couldn’t have been more than four-years-old at the time. My brother was older, I think, but not much, maybe a year or two.”

I nodded and gave her a sympathetic look. “How long has it been since you’ve seen your brother?” I asked politely. “Do you have any idea at all where he might be?”

Mia never looked at me, instead she lifted her head and stared straight into Jake’s eyes.

“Like I told you,” she said softly. “The investigator I hired a few years back was able to learn that he might have been adopted by a family in Surfside Isle, New Jersey, where we were born. He couldn’t find out anything else.”

“So you’ve tried to find him before and couldn’t?”

Mia nodded. “I was so young when my parents died, too young to even remember my siblings’ names—or even our family name. I have nothing to go on. My adoptive parents gave me the name of the adoption agency, but the agency would only tell the P.I. that my brother grew up in Surfside Isle. The records were sealed and they couldn’t give him anything else to go on. The same thing happened with my sister. The agency said she was adopted to an out-of-state family, but wouldn’t give us more.” Mia shrugged. “I made sure the agency had my name and address. I told them that if my brother or sister ever wanted to find me, they could give out my information, but that’s all I could do—wait and hope they come looking for me. I gave up until about a month ago. That’s when my sister contacted me.” Mia bit her lip and fell silent for a moment.

“I really need to find my brother,” she said, her voice tinged with desperation. “You see, he may be my sister’s only hope.” As I watched, tears formed in her eyes and her lower lip trembled slightly. “She needs a kidney transplant. I would have given her one of mine, but it turns out I’m not a suitable donor. I’d go look for him myself, but my sister’s so ill now that I’m afraid to leave her. I would hate to go looking for my brother and have my sister die. I mean, we’ve only just found each other! That’s why I need you.” She gazed into Jake’s eyes as big tears rolled down her perfect cheeks.

He leaned forward, patted her knee and handed her a tissue. Nina, watching from the edge of the room, bit her lower lip and frowned.

Mia shook her head, brushed away the tears with one elegantly manicured index finger, and seemed to struggle for control of her emotions.

“I’m all right,” she said, smiling bravely at Jake. “I just feel so alone in all this. Without my brother, I really have no one I can turn to.” She stared into Jake’s eyes. “Please tell me you can help me help my sister.”

“Don’t worry,” Jake said. “You’re not alone anymore. We’ll find your brother.”

“Good.”

Mia straightened in her chair, her attitude changing from pathetic damsel to businesswoman the instant she heard Jake say he’d help. She reached into her large leather bag, brought out a thick, business-size envelope and handed it to Jake. “I hope this covers my retainer,” she murmured.

Jake tossed the envelope onto the desk unopened and said, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

I was less trusting. I reached for the packet, opened it and almost gasped. There were ten one-thousand-dollar bills inside.

“I’ll get you a receipt,” I said. “Of course, there will be expenses in addition to our usual daily rate…”

She didn’t even let me finish. She dismissed me with a wave of her hand, her eyes never leaving Jake’s infatuated face. “Of course, whatever you need. Just let me know and you’ll have it.” She smiled at Jake.

She reached back into the bag, pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to Jake. “I’ve heard such good things about you,” she said softly. “I just know I can trust you to find him.”

Jake beamed, while I took the more paranoid worldview of a cop. How had she heard anything about us? We’d only been in business for a month. So far our biggest coup had been the repossession of Santa’s sleigh, and I hardly thought Joey Spagnazi was bragging about what a great job we did.

“I’m glad we come so highly recommended,” I said. “Who do we have to thank for sending you to us?”

Mia glanced briefly in my direction.

“My sister. She’s a bookkeeper for a local businessman and she gave me your name.”

“What’s your sister’s name? Maybe we can find your brother by tracing your sister back to Surfside Isle.”

“Oh, we tried that already.”

Jake nodded sympathetically. I was less impressed.

Mia fluttered her eyes in Jake’s direction and I wanted to slap her.

“You see, I came to Glenn Ford, hoping against hope that I’d be a match, but it didn’t work out.”

“Didn’t work out?” I echoed.

Mia’s head dropped slightly and she stared down at her hands.

“No,” she said softly. “I have hepatitis C, so I’m not an option. That’s why we’re so desperate now. My brother is her only hope.”

Before I could ask her anything else, she stood up, this time making eye contact with both of us.

“I only have one request,” she said, her voice firm and undeniably hard.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Find him, but don’t approach him. Don’t tell him about us.” She paused, apparently remembering her helpless act, and continued, this time in her little-girl-lost tone. “It might be a shock to him, that’s all. I want to be the one to break it to him. I don’t want to jeopardize my sister’s chances by having a stranger tell him about us.” She fluttered her eyes at Jake again. “You do understand, don’t you?”

Jake seemed to grow two inches taller. “Of course, Mia,” he said, soothing our poor little client. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

She reached out and gripped his arm, her eyes pleading. As she did this, I had an instant mental memory of myself standing naked in front of Jake, the same expression mirrored in my own eyes. Now, here I was, the bystander, while Mia Lange, the dark-haired pixie, was the object of Jake’s very rapt attention.

“I just knew you’d be the one,” she whispered. “I’ll be in touch.”

Oh, no you won’t, I thought, you will so not be touching this man. He’s mine! The thought jumped unbidden into my head and just as quickly I forced it back out.

“How will we reach you, Ms. Lange?” I asked.

“It’s all in there,” she said, indicating the manila folder she’d given Jake. “All my numbers are in there, my sister’s, my cell and my pager.”

Jake and I watched Mia Lange turn and walk away. She strode out the door past Nina without so much as a sideways glance. She almost collided with Spike in the hallway.

“Excuse me!” Spike said as Mia practically ran her down.

“Certainly,” Mia murmured, apparently oblivious to the sarcastic tone.

Spike stepped into the waiting room, saw the three of us staring after Mia and stopped.

“Who the hell was that?” When no one answered, Spike shook her head. “Important client, huh?”

Nina was the first to snap out of the Mia trance.

“Oh. My. God!” she squealed. “Important? You wanna know what’s important? Me and Stella almost got killed at Sheeler’s gas station! Some idiots shot at us! Oh. My. God!”

Spike stared at Nina, her face whitening as the news sank in. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Who did this?”

She crossed the room to Nina, put her arm around her shoulders and hugged her. “Honey, are you okay?”

Nina nodded, her eyes huge with remembered fear. “They could’ve killed us! But don’t you worry, I’m ready for them now!” She reached underneath her desk and pulled out the tire iron and a spray can of room deodorizer.

Spike looked at the two objects and frowned. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I understand the tire iron, but what about the room freshener?”

Nina grinned, pulled a lighter out from the pocket of her jeans and brandished it in front of us.

“My secret weapon,” she said. “The bad guy comes for me. I try to hit him with the tire iron, but in case it doesn’t work, I pull out my spray can. I point it at him, flick my Bic, and push! Instant flamethrower! See?”

She made a move to click the lighter, but Jake was faster, pulling the Bic out of her hand as I grabbed the spray can.

“I believe you!” Jake said. “I just don’t want you to miscalculate and torch the office.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t going to actually do it, stupid. What do you think I am, a pyronaut?”

“Pyromaniac?” I prompted.

“Whatever!” Nina groused. “I’m not stupid, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Well, of course not, baby,” Spike cooed. “No one thinks you’re stupid. I think you’re very brave.”

Nina quit pouting and smiled. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Totally. You do?”

Spike nodded.

Jake nudged me, motioning me back inside our office. “Joey Smack, you think?” he murmured.

“Absolutely. I think paybacks are murder and he’s pissed. We’ll be on his shit list for quite a while.”

Jake smiled. “Nothin’ we can’t handle, especially from New Jersey.” Jake plopped back down in my chair, propped his feet up on the desk and turned his thousand-watt attention to me. “Yep, old Joey Smack is gonna have a hard time exacting his revenge when we’re in New Jersey and he doesn’t have a clue.”

“New Jersey?” I echoed stupidly.

“Yeah, I mean, that is where the boy was born and raised. Don’t you think we oughta take up the trail there and see where it leads?”

Jake’s eyes twinkled as he picked up the envelope stuffed full of cash and tapped it against his open palm.

“Oh, yeah, babe. Me and you. A tiny mom-and-pop motel, all but vacant for the winter and a missing brother. Oh, yeah. What a life! It could take weeks to find that boy. Imagine.”

I kept silent, knowing full well Jake was quite capable of hanging himself without my help.

“Yep,” he said, stretching back in the leather chair. “Two people could get to know each other quite well in a situation like that. Intimately, I’d say.”

There you go. Give a man enough rope and he’ll ruin every opportunity, usually with his mouth.

I leaned in the doorway, arms folded across my chest, the perfect nonverbal picture of the word no.

“So, you’re looking forward to a little time away, just the two of us?” I purred, enjoying the setup.

Jake gave me the look that flipped my stomach like a pancake, savored the effect, and practically crowed. “Oh, yeah, babe. I’ve been waiting for this for a lifetime.”

“Obviously,” I murmured. I let my gaze drift lazily down his body, stopping midway as I licked my lips and only half faked anticipation.

Jake smiled. It was a shame to have to burst his bubble.

“So, Jake?” I cooed.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Has it occurred to you that Joey Smack won’t settle for us being out of town and that he’ll come after Aunt Lucy and Nina next? Have you forgotten that Aunt Lucy is a very valuable chemist and that you remain under government contract to ensure her safety? Have you completely stopped thinking with the Big Head because the Little Head is currently in charge of your life, thus insuring that I won’t come within thirty yards of you, even if you were suddenly the last human being alive and all the vibrators had dead batteries?”

I fired the questions like rifle shots and the effect was worth every word. Jake went from complacently confident of popping me in the sack, to confused and finally, irritated. I had him, all right, right where I wanted him. So why did I still feel disappointed?

“So what are you saying, one of us has to stay here?”

I shrugged. “That’s one option, or they could come with us.”

Jake exploded. “Oh, now that’s a plan, Stella. We pack up two, maybe three cars, with your aunt, your cousin, her girlfriend and Lloyd, then proceed to Surfside Isle, New Jersey, to look for a missing person whom we are to find but not approach. We don’t have a name, a description, or any other information, but you want to make this ‘easy’ case into a family fishing trip. Oh, now that’s professional. Yeah, the Beverly Hillbillies Private Investigation Company is at your service!”

I straightened and went in for the kill. “At least I wasn’t so busy thinking about getting laid that I forgot about Aunt Lucy and the safety of my co-workers!” I snapped. “At least I… Whoo!”

Something cold and wet nuzzled my ass from behind. Lloyd, happy to see me, was demanding my attention.

“Dog!” I screeched. “Get off me!”

Aunt Lucy stepped forward. “Your uncle has something to say.”

“By sticking his nose up my ass?”

Aunt Lucy stiffened and raised one imperious eyebrow. “He can’t help that he’s hampered by his new body,” she said. “Reincarnation isn’t exactly easy, you know. It’s not like the Sears catalog. You can’t just pick out your new body and say, I’ll take that one! The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away!” She sniffed. “And I don’t think profanity amuses him. It’s not exactly like you’re on God’s A-list, anyway. When was the last time you made confession?”

The conversation was definitely taking a dangerous turn for the worse.

“How do you like the shore?” Jake asked, attempting to rescue me.

Aunt Lucy didn’t seem especially thrilled to see him, either.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

“Surfside Isle has some great fishing,” he added, completely ignoring the question.

“Surfside Isle has mobsters, too,” she retorted. “It’s cold. The wind blows in off the ocean and you can feel it in your bones.”

Lloyd barked once, a short yip that seemed to mean something to Aunt Lucy. She cocked her head, smiled and said, “Well now, you’re right. That was nice.”

Lloyd moaned and padded over to investigate the trash can under my desk.

“I suppose,” she said, then turned back to us humans. “Your uncle likes to surf fish. Maybe the blues are running.” Then she frowned at us. “Of course, you won’t have much time for fishing if you’re trying to find someone’s brother.”

Busted. Aunt Lucy, Nina and Spike had obviously overheard every heated morsel of our conversation, not that we were trying to hide anything. I looked over my aunt’s shoulder and saw the other two hanging just behind her, obviously curious.

“Okay,” I said. “We’d better talk.” I looked at Nina. “I think this time it might be a good idea to have a plan.”

“We could start by naming ourselves,” Nina said. Then she stopped, her forehead creased in thought. “Well, actually, I think we might want to do some team-building exercises first. Maybe a trust walk.”

“A trust walk?” Aunt Lucy echoed. “How’s about we start with a place to stay? I have a friend who’s got a house in Surfside Isle, just one block off the ocean. Why don’t we start by asking her if the place is open? Trust walk!”

Nina bristled. “We blindfold partners and walk them around, you know, so they develop a trusting relationship and confidence in their partner’s ability to keep them safe.”

Spike was standing by the window in the office staring down at the street. She seemed so absorbed in the cars below that I was surprised when she roused herself to speak.

“Well,” she began, in her clear, crisp attorney tone, “I think there are more important issues to be addressed first.”

The room fell silent.

“Like what?” Nina asked.

Spike glanced out the window again. “Well, we could start with the four men in the car across the street. They’ve been watching the building for about five minutes, but now another car is pulling up behind them and everyone’s getting out and heading our way, and just so you know, I think they all have guns under their overcoats.”

The entire room exploded into quick, silent action. There wasn’t time for team building, mission statements, or a corporate name that reflected our unique abilities and talents. It was showtime.