Читать книгу Too Many Brothers - Roz Fox Denny - Страница 7

LOGAN STARTED working out a plan to borrow April’s car. With a little luck, he’d figured he could sneak past Billy’s lookouts. That hope died quickly. A glance through a crack in the blind showed one man from the organization strolling down the street, peering under bushes and over fences into side yards. He stopped to talk to a cop in an LAPD car; Logan wished he could see the cop’s face. A second goon followed a trail into the woods adjacent to April’s house. Dropping the blind, Logan realized he’d have to play along for a while.

He’d strapped the Luger to his leg with two rubber bands he found in his sister’s bathroom cabinet. He’d be walking oddly, anyway, in the big slippered feet. Walking at all was a challenge, he soon discovered, wondering whatever possessed grown-ups to do this for a living.

By placing all his weight on his heels, he managed to make it past the slider onto the patio without falling on his face. Daphne already had the kids sitting in a semicircle, gazing up at her with adoring eyes. A surprising stab of nostalgia rendered him immobile for a heartbeat. An early argument Logan had with his ex had come about because he wanted kids and she flatly refused to discuss it. He envied his sister and her friends, who sat around the pool in deck chairs smiling at their cherubs. Logan again cursed himself for potentially bringing disaster down on them.

Noticing one of Billy Holt’s men walking out of the woods on the unfenced side of April’s yard, he tensed all over. Logan had gotten into the house undetected by knowing the area. If he ever got out of this, he’d try to convince Mike to move his family to a better location. At the very least, Logan knew he’d come back and help fence their yard.

Feeling protective of everyone here, he waddled up and insinuated his body between Daphne and the deadly onlooker—a man sure to be packing the latest automatic handgun. The availability of high-tech weapons to criminals was something else that made Logan’s job more difficult by the day.

Daphne, seemingly oblivious that they were being observed, produced five plastic bowling pins from a flowered bag she’d brought out. She began juggling three pins. Then added two more. When she finally did see the stranger watching from the trees, she faltered and pins flew in five different directions.

Logan scooped them up. Even with gloves covering his hands, he tossed the pins in the air and kept them aloft far longer than Daphne had.

The kids clapped loudly.

“Hey, quit upstaging me,” Daphne said, planting her hands on her hips.

The kids and their moms assumed the banter was part of the routine. They all laughed and urged Daphne to take the pins away from her partner.

“That’s okay,” Daphne told the children. “My magic tricks are way cooler than his.”

“What’s your name?” called out one boy.

“I’m Bozo. This is Buzzy. He doesn’t talk much,” Daphne said seriously. “But he’d like another round of applause for how well he juggles. How about if we all show him our appreciation?”

The group of kids and adults clapped harder. Logan knew why Daphne had said he didn’t speak. If their intruder stayed at the edge of the party—and he showed no indication of leaving—the guy might well recognize Logan’s voice. Logan’s estimation of Daphne Malone’s ability to think on her feet went up several degrees.

But he thought it was too bad her magic tricks were so pathetic. Bumping her aside, Logan grabbed the coin and deck of cards out of her hands. As a boy, he’d spent hours with a box of magic tricks he’d received for Christmas one year. This was an arena where he felt confident he could hold the kids’ interest.

Daphne crossed her arms and tapped one oversize foot, appearing outwardly annoyed at her partner. Truthfully, she was annoyed. What did he think he was doing, horning in on her gig.

Again, everyone present assumed it was part of the act. And Daphne had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Logan Grant was a whiz at magic. He held the kids enthralled for a good fifteen minutes. Five minutes, tops, was all she’d ever managed. But then again, this clown business was a sideline for her. Her real talent lay in makeup.

At the first sign that the kids were growing bored with Logan’s sleight of hand, she clapped sharply and offered a new diversion.

“Time for face painting. Who wants their faces done?”

The kids jumped up and crowded around her. “Me first, me first,” all ten shouted as they danced up and down.

“Whoa! The birthday girl is always first. I’ll give Natalie a list of faces I came prepared to paint. She’ll choose for everyone. It’ll be a grand secret until each of you finally gets to look in the mirror.” Daphne flipped open a canvas camp stool hauled from the depths of the voluminous beach bag. Next, she produced a tray filled with small jars of paint.

Logan saw that their watcher had left the tree and appeared to be searching the back half of the vacant lot. Logan judged he could safely leave in ten minutes or so. Except that the kids not being painted started milling about. Those with moms on hand whined. The boys roughhoused, and April suddenly wore a panicked expression. She didn’t know they were being watched or she would’ve been downright terrified.

Logan thought he owed it to his sister, to his niece and to Daphne to stay and help out a little longer.

He whistled to regain the children’s attention. Elaborately, he pantomimed that they should again gather around. He began slowly pulling out a row of scarves he’d discovered hidden in the false sleeve of his costume. He tied them together and made the lot disappear.

Even Daphne gave him a rolling “Ooooh,” followed by applause. Emboldened, Logan marched up to his sister. He made a big show of patting April’s burgeoning belly. He pretended to listen to her baby with a fat clown ear, and made cradling motions with his arms. Then, big as you please, Logan leaned down and shot April in the face with the water-filled flower.

She sputtered, wiped her cheeks, and to everyone’s glee she swung at his arm.

Daphne tried to keep a straight face, but she had to smother a laugh. Through talking to Natalie, she’d learned that most of the children at the party had attended fairs where they’d had butterflies or lightning bolts painted on their cheeks. No one was prepared for the display Daphne had planned. Natalie had agreed that Daphne would turn each child into a specific animal. Daphne was relieved the girl had liked her idea. Especially since animal props were the only ones she’d brought, and she figured the kids would enjoy taking them home.

First, she covered Nat’s face with white paint, then added pink blush to her cheeks. Using a brush, she framed the little girl’s face in black, and added a black nose, jet-black arched eyebrows and whiskers. She painted on big ruby-red lips. Rummaging in her bag, she hauled out two red-and-white polka-dot bows. One was attached to round black ears, which she affixed to the back of Nat’s head. The second bow she pinned at the girl’s throat. “Voilà, meet our pretty house mouse,” she announced, presenting the birthday girl to her family and friends. They both curtsied, Nat gracefully, Daphne a bit more awkward given the size of her false feet.

As the children exclaimed over how great Natalie looked, Daphne started on the next child. Whiskers the Cat was followed by a mop-haired boy as El Perro the Dog. He sported a black ring around his left eye when Daphne put on the finishing touch.

Logan was most impressed by the zebra makeup. The boy wore a black-and-white striped T-shirt that made the costume more realistic. The band with pointy ears that Daphne clipped around his head enhanced the total effect of his black-and-white face paint. The kids liked the Bengal tiger best, though.

“Hey, you’re really good,” Logan muttered when he thought the kids wouldn’t be able to hear him talk normally.

Daphne merely smiled in response, but Logan could tell she was pleased. Did she get so few compliments then? He took a minute to really watch her sure and steady strokes.

A boy with a pronounced lisp became another dog. Daphne quickly cut big paws out of a discarded grocery sack she’d asked Natalie to hand her. Dog-boy ended up with floppy, grocery-bag ears, too.

A two-toothed rabbit caused everyone to laugh uproariously. The girl wasn’t shy. She hammed it up, which only increased Daphne’s popularity.

Logan watched the moms ooh and aah among themselves. He had little doubt that his partner had just scored more parties for herself. Strangely, he felt a stab of pride at Daphne’s accomplishments. It was similar to the way he’d feel about another agent’s success.

She finished the final kid, transforming a cherubic girl with naturally apple-red cheeks and a mop of wildly curling black hair rather like Daphne’s own, into a hissing, snarling wildcat. Then she screwed a lid on the paint jar and casually nudged Logan. “Don’t look now, but our watchdog’s back.”

At first Logan thought Daphne was referring to one of the kid animals. But with an elaborate roll of her eyes, she turned his attention to the wooded lot.

Sure enough, the worst of Holt’s henchmen stood at the edge of April’s grass, boldly observing the proceedings.

“Listen up, kids. Buzzy is going to help Mrs. Ross bring out Natalie’s cake. While they’re gone, I want everyone to practice helping her blow out the candles. I’ll dish up ice cream to go with the cake in a minute. Oh—I see an interested neighbor. Maybe he has a child he’d like to book a party for. I’ll go tell him how to contact us.”

Was she nuts? Logan couldn’t believe his eyes. Daphne marched straight up to Billy’s right-hand man, a cold-blooded killer if ever there was one. Logan recognized the man nicknamed Razor for the way he carved up his enemies. Jeez. Did Daphne Malone have a death wish? Logan tried to pull loose from April, but his sister had his clown suit in a grip that he feared would tear the material if he resisted too strenuously. Twisting his head to keep an eye on Daphne didn’t work, either. April opened the kitchen door and shoved him inside, totally cutting off his view.

AFTER YEARS OF LIVING with an excess of authoritative older brothers, Daphne had learned that the best way to divert a problem was to face it head-on. Even though her knees knocked inside her baggy polka-dot clown suit, she walked right up to a man she knew to be on the wrong side of the law. “Hi, I’m Bozo the Clown,” she said. “My partner, Buzzy, and I perform at children’s parties all over the valley. I couldn’t help noticing the interest you’ve shown in our act. Unfortunately, I don’t have a business card with me.” She made a show of holding out her costume so the man could see she had no pockets. “I can give you a phone number, though, if you have a child with a birthday coming up.”

“No kid,” the man growled. He practically stumbled over his feet in an attempt to back away from Daphne.

“Oh.” She actually managed to sound saddened by his revelation. “Well, I’ll let you go then. Buzzy and I always help the hostess serve refreshments. This many kids can make a real mess of cake and ice cream. So, if you’re just out for your daily walk, Mr….” She let her words trail off.

Daphne knew, of course, that he wouldn’t supply a name. As she’d expected, he turned abruptly and all but melted into the woods.

She wanted to grin and pat herself on the back. However, her knees were too spongy. It was all she could do to make it to the patio before collapsing on the camp stool she’d set up to paint faces.

Logan exited the house carrying a sheet cake with seven lit candles.

Daphne saw from the disapproving flash in his blue eyes that she was in for a tongue-lashing. It was only a matter of time. Well, Logan Grant ought to thank her. That was what he ought to do. It was plain to her that the man watching them was suspicious of their act.

When she succeeded in getting her legs under her again, Daphne stood up and flounced into the kitchen.

Logan quickly followed, leaving his sister to oversee blowing out the candles and cutting the cake. “What the hell did you think you were doing out there?” he demanded the minute they were both closed inside.

“He left, didn’t he?” Daphne returned flippantly. She pried the lid off a round carton of ice cream and shoved a scoop that lay beside it into Logan’s hand. “Make yourself useful,” she said haughtily.

He blinked down at the scoop as if to ask how he came to be holding it.

Daphne calmly extended the first bowl. “We’d better hurry. April won’t be able to keep the kids from wanting ice cream for long once Natalie blows out her candles.”

“You may think this is all a kid’s game, like cops and robbers, Ms. Malone. What you did out there was damn stupid. You risked your life and the lives of all those kids and their moms.”

Picking up four bowls Logan had filled with ice cream, Daphne bumped her butt against the door to open it. Lowering her lashes demurely, she gave him a sweet smile, which she knew probably looked grotesque with her makeup. “It’s a little difficult to take a clown’s lecture too seriously.”

Practically frothing at the mouth, Logan started after her to show her how seriously he ought to be taken. But melting ice cream dripped down the handle of the scoop and over his glove. Swearing under his breath, he waddled to the sink and wiped off the sticky stuff. Damn, a man in clown slippers couldn’t even stomp out properly.

Logan was two seconds from going into the bedroom to strip out of this ridiculous costume when an out-of-breath April flew down the hall from the direction of the guest room. “I just walked Mariel Weber to her car,” she said. “I saw at least three strange men nosing along our street, Logan. Are they the people who want to—well…snuff you?” she asked, lowering her voice to a bare whisper.

Daphne had returned for more bowls. “Hop to it, Grant. The natives are getting restless. Our lives won’t be worth a plugged nickel if we don’t feed those boys out there chocolate ice cream. I’m not too popular, ’cause I made them wait till all the girls were served.”

“You’re not too popular with me, either,” Logan snapped. “If you hadn’t waltzed up and consorted with Razor, he and his pals might’ve taken a powder by now.”

“Razor? No wonder he wasn’t eager to share his name.” Daphne didn’t so much as flinch when Logan swore. She just relieved him of the scoop and quickly filled the next set of bowls. “You cop types all need to clean up your language,” she said primly. “You may think swearing is manly, but it doesn’t impress the ladies.” She hurried back to the patio before Logan self-destructed with apoplexy. Frankly, the only way she could deal with him was to treat him as she’d treat her brothers. Otherwise, if she paused to think about what was really going on, she might fall apart.

At last the party wound down. One mother and daughter had already left, saying they had a family obligation. Daphne knew it wouldn’t be long before the others followed. Natalie still had some presents to open, but Daphne knew kids could make short work of ripping through wrapping paper. She’d pack up and leave then. But…what about Logan?

Maybe they could stall through cleaning up the patio, but that was the maximum time she could spend hanging around. Otherwise she’d lose credibility. She sure hoped Agent Grant had more than a few flimsy scarves up his sleeves—although why she cared was beyond her.

Irritated, Daphne pulled empty bowls from children’s hands as fast as she could and rushed back to the kitchen. “April, you’d better go on out with your guests. Leave Logan and me to put this stuff away. I think Nat’s ready to open her gifts. The kids who already finished eating are poking at her packages.”

“I’ll go, but will you talk some sense into this brother of mine? He’s planning to change into street clothes and take his chances with those thieves and murderers. I think it’d be smarter if you two left together dressed as you are. Those men hanging around out front won’t know that you don’t usually come and go in costume. Maybe you could swing past Logan’s office and dump him out. He’ll get your costume back to you somehow. Or else I will. I have your phone number.” Bestowing a last unhappy glance on her brother, April disappeared out the kitchen door.

Daphne wasn’t at all keen on the idea even though she saw its merit.

“Don’t you start giving me lip,” Logan told Daphne as she put the lid on the ice-cream carton. Logan, familiar with where to find the freezer, tripped over his feet as he went into the alcove to stow the ice cream. Coming back, he stalked circles around the center island. When Daphne said nothing, he threw up his hands. “If your brother’s a cop, you know full well I can’t…won’t let you help. I’d be in trouble for soliciting help from a civilian, especially a female civilian.”

Daphne threw the sponge into the sink after wiping chocolate ice cream off the counter. “I don’t know you at all, Logan. I guess your ego’s too fragile to ask for help from a mere woman.”

“That’s not it,” he exploded. “It’s against rules. Besides, my boss sees me dressed like this and worms the story out of me, I’ll be on report from now until I retire.”

“Yes,” she said sympathetically. “On the other hand, you might actually live to retire.” She’d edged over to a window that faced out on the front yard. “I have to agree with April that staying in costume makes the most sense. And believe me, I’m not looking forward to riding in a hot car wearing full greasepaint. It’ll run.”

“Is runny makeup all you’re worried about? If one of those yoyos even suspects I’m his man, your car will end up riddled with bullet holes.”

“I drive pretty fast.”

“Doesn’t any of this faze you? If—and I’m saying if—I go along with this half-baked scheme, I’m driving the getaway vehicle. I’ve had to dodge tails before, which I doubt you have.”

“I’ve had to shake a persistent friend who thought I was dating her boyfriend. But she didn’t have a gun,” Daphne said with a grin. “At least I don’t think she did.”

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

She sobered instantly. Daphne’s tawny eyes revealed that she wasn’t nearly as blasé about any of this as she tried to let on. “Let me collect my props and get my check. I owe a lot of people, so if I turn up dead, maybe what I earned today will go toward staving off my creditors.”

“Hey,” Logan called as Daphne sped around him. “We’re splitting today’s take fifty-fifty, aren’t we?” He winked when she stopped to gawk at him. “Well, I did do half the job,” he said, spreading his white-gloved hands. “I thought I was pretty good.”

“You did okay for a rookie. But in this line of work it’s common for an apprentice to pay a master clown to teach him the trade. If we manage to get out of this in one piece, though, I might buy you dinner one of these days.”

“Really? Dinner with a clown? That’s an offer a guy doesn’t get very often. Okay, Bozo, you’re on. Let me go ease April’s mind. I’ll bring anything you left on the patio to the bedroom. By the way, I’m not driving in these clodhoppers. I’m changing into my boots.”

“What kind of special agent are you?” Daphne tossed her head. “Any bad guy worth his salt will spot those run-down boots of yours. That’s why I’m driving. I have socks on under my clown shoes. I can slip these off once we’re in the car. Your buddies out there will be none the wiser.”

“You’re a hard woman, Daphne Malone. Okay. You win. Are you sure you’re not the cop in the Malone family moonlighting as a clown?”

“Don’t ever let my brother Kieran hear you say that. He’s convinced it takes a virtual deity to do what he does for a living. A deity with a penis, no less.”

“Hmm. Your brother and I would get along fine. Too bad we’ll never meet. The agency discourages fraternizing with local law enforcement. In case it’s necessary to put us out in the community undercover.”

“Yes,” she said sweetly. “You’re so good at working undercover.”

Logan grabbed another sponge off the counter and threw it at her. But she was too quick. It missed by a mile. He found himself grinning in spite of the situation. Daphne Malone was really something. He’d bet she didn’t take an ounce of guff from her brother. Brothers, he corrected, recalling that she’d mentioned three. All men in tough-guy fields. No wonder she’d learned to hold her own in a verbal scuffle.

Remembering how she’d looked in skimpy underwear, Logan grinned a moment longer. He pictured scuffling with her across a king-size bed. His smile faded. Ludicrous, he thought, stiff-arming his way out the back door.

April left one of her friends in charge of the children who’d stayed to play after Nat had opened her gifts. She’d received a croquet set and the kids wanted to try it out. One of the other moms promised to help set up while April paid her performers.

“I’m worried, Logan. Phone me as soon as Daphne drops you at your office. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with Mike being at sea, without worrying about your safety, too.”

“We’ll be fine. In fact, I only see one carload of bad guys hanging around,” Logan said, brushing a kiss on April’s forehead. “Stop worrying. It’s not good for the baby. Oh, tell Nat I phoned or something, and that I’m mailing her a gift. What does she want that she didn’t get?”

“See if you can find the Barbie with all the camping gear. The stores in this area were all sold out. We’re using Mike’s leave to go camping before the baby arrives, which is why Nat wants the Barbie that comes with a tent and stuff. She was disappointed, I think, when she found out it wasn’t what her dad and I had given her.”

“Man, I hate going down Barbie aisles in toy stores. It’s more intimidating than Victoria’s Secret. Well, almost more intimidating,” he said, realizing what he’d admitted not only to his sister, but to Daphne Malone. She’d stowed her check in her bag and waited impatiently at the front door. Logan expected one of the women to ask who he bought skimpy lingerie for. Thankfully, neither remarked on it.

Before either of them could, he relieved Daphne of her bulging beach bag and reached around her to open the door.

“Go on out with Nat and enjoy the rest of her party, sis. I’ll call you when I can. Don’t worry if you don’t hear right away.”

April walked onto the front porch. Daphne waved before she and Logan climbed into her Volkswagen.

“You said you had a car,” Logan grumbled, trying to fold his long body enough to fit inside the cramped space.

“No disparaging comments, please. I happen to love my little car. She’s a classic. And Tootles gets me where I’m going economically. I find parking when bigger cars have to pass up a spot.” She patted the dash. “Oops, I see two cars with dark windows. Looks like maybe two occupants in each, and both show an inordinate amount of interest in us. You might want to lean into the back seat so they can’t get a good look at you.”

“I got a good look at me at April’s. I don’t think my boss would recognize me.”

Still, Daphne noticed he took her suggestion. Agent Grant didn’t do anything without bickering, but he listened and eventually took advice—from a woman, no less. Daphne stored that information for tossing up at Kieran one day.

“Hey,” she said, flexing her fingers around the wheel. “A dark blue car pulled in directly behind us.”

The word that left Logan’s mouth wasn’t pretty, but Daphne thought it described how she felt at the moment, too.

“See if you can shake him. Keep to the middle lane. At the next intersection, if the light’s green, whip into the right lane and make a hard right turn.”

Daphne followed his instructions to the letter. But the car tailing them crossed in front of a truck in a real squeaker of a move and ended up behind them again.

“Don’t act like you’re keeping tabs on him,” Logan said. “But glance in your sideview mirror occasionally.”

“He’s so close on my rear I can almost feel him breathing.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid he thinks we deliberately tried to ditch them.”

“We did.”

“I know, but I’d hoped they wouldn’t be expecting it of you. I thought maybe we could zigzag through a few streets and throw them off our scent.”

Daphne tried to relax. She leaned back against the seat and loosened her death grip on the wheel. “Where’s your office? Can we shake them in five o’clock traffic? The next block will fill up soon with workers leaving a packing plant.”

Logan named an address, and Daphne was surprised to learn his office wasn’t more than ten blocks from her apartment building. “I didn’t know there was a federal building on Jefferson Boulevard.”

“There’s not.” He scrunched down even lower in the seat and rested his hat against the headrest. “Our whole unit is operating on the q.t.”

“Phew, that’s good. I didn’t relish pulling up in front of a federal building to let you out in case I can’t lose that blue Mercedes afterward. But if your whole unit’s under wraps, those guys won’t know I’m leaving you with feds.”

“Don’t be too sure.” Logan crossed his arms and studied his driver. “They have unheard-of sources. Money talks, and that gang of thugs has gold to burn. Their last heroin shipment brought in half a billion dollars on the street.”

“That’s disgusting. Think of all those pathetic humans who lie, cheat and steal to pay for their drug habits.”

“Unfortunately, in California and elsewhere, plenty of folks with big bucks are dabbling in the hard stuff. They earn their money on Wall Street, or in occupations that are well thought of.”

“Like entertainment and sports, you mean?”

“To name two, yes.”

Daphne spared him a sidelong glance. “I’ve lived on the fringes of Hollywood my whole life. I know rich-and-famous kids who spent more than their school lunch money to stay stoned out of their minds.”

“Did you know any dealers? Do you now?”

“No. I always figured it was better not to know. I didn’t use, or run around with kids who did.” She shrugged. “I was never very popular.”

“Now that I find hard to believe.”

She sent him a dirty look. As dirty, at least, as a clown with a painted-on smile could deliver.

“Are they still on our bumper?” he asked, not wanting to turn around.

“Yes,” she said, making a right turn and then a left. “Dang, I thought that maneuver might confuse them. They seem acquainted with all our one-way streets. Shoot, I’m afraid I really tipped them off.”

Logan squinted into the sun to read the next street signs. “Go up Linda Vista and join the Foothill Freeway. From there, see if you can disappear in heavy traffic. Then swerve onto the Glendale Freeway. Follow it all the way down to the Golden State. If they’re unaware the feds have a branch office here, it may throw them off the track long enough to let me slip out and double back. I just don’t want to leave them following you. By the way, where do you live? And do you live alone or with family—or with a significant other?”

“Alone.” She gave him the coordinating cross streets for her apartment. “Why do you need to know where I live?”

“Because I may have to go home with you to make it look convincing to these jokers if they’re too persistent.”

“What? No way! I just told you I live alone.”

“How many people in your building know that?”

“A few. I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“It is if our tails get nosy and start asking questions around here. If they weren’t suspicious of us—of me—I think they’d already be peeling off to look elsewhere. They know where I live. I’m sure someone’s watching my condo.”

“I suppose you can come up for a little while. How do you plan to leave my apartment, though—and when?”

“I’ll think of something. I hate to ask a fellow agent to extract me, but if all else fails, I will. Those jerks behind us don’t know your name. You didn’t give it to Razor, did you?” Logan leveled a serious look at Daphne.

“I said we booked birthday parties as Bozo and Buzzy. I said I didn’t have any business cards with me. Your friend wasn’t interested. I pretended I thought he had a child and was checking the party because he might want to book us.”

“That was good thinking,” he said somewhat unwillingly.

“Thanks.” Her response was dry.

“No, I mean it. Have you considered going into police work yourself?”

“Are you kidding? With my work history?” She laughed hilariously as she navigated up the ramp onto the first of the three freeways.

“It couldn’t be too bad. You aren’t that old.”

“Part-time jobs have been my downfall,” she muttered with a grimace. “I figured anyone could be a waitress. I’ve certainly encountered some ditzy ones. But my first day on the job, I dumped Caesar salad in the lap of a really big movie star. I guess you could say I got blackballed from working at any local restaurants where there’re decent tips.”

“So, your mistake was in assuming that waitressing’s easy.”

“On my next job, I tried lifeguarding at Santa Monica Beach.”

“Can you swim?” Logan asked carefully.

“Yes, don’t be an idiot. I swim fine. I just couldn’t rescue a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound doofus who almost drowned himself and me. He was drunk out of his gourd, and his buddies thought the way he fought me was really cute.”

“Well, jeez, what do you expect if the guy outweighs you? Cripes, you can’t weigh more than a hundred and thirty.”

“A hundred and twelve to be exact. But the instructor who trained me insists its not a matter of weight but of leverage. So I still got fired.”

“That’s just two jobs. It’s obvious you didn’t give up.”

“No. I applied for and got a job as a dog walker. I screwed up at that, too.” She sighed.

“That job seems like a no-brainer if you don’t mind my saying so. What happened?”

“You won’t believe it,” she responded glumly. “My family still can’t. The agency I signed up with had some high-toned clients. I was assigned to meet dog owners at the valet parking for Rodeo Drive. In a way it was my own fault. My first time out, I was to walk three chows. You’ve seen chows? They’re big and fluffy and red. This particular threesome turned out to be pampered and undisciplined as well. The owner, a star who shall remain nameless, neglected to tell me they had a hankering for a certain French poodle. Her owner operated a ritzy accessory shop on the Drive, where I was told to walk the dogs. I tried my best to hold the chows back when we passed this place. Suffice it to say that before the walk ended, we’d wiped out the awnings of two elite establishments. My dad coughed up for the damages. I won’t even tell you what he had to lay out in cold cash. I am going to pay him back, though.”

“What made you decide to try being a party clown, of all things? That seems like a job with built-in drawbacks. Kids bite, kick and spit. Mothers never believe their rug rats are at fault.”

“Oh, I’m only doing this temporarily while I wait to hear on a job at one of the movie studios. My family talked me into giving college another stab after the last disaster. They weren’t overjoyed when I chose to become a makeup artist. But I’m good at it, and I think it’ll be exciting and rewarding work. No two movies are ever alike. Plus, I’ll meet a lot of interesting people—including single men. But don’t you dare ask about my history in that department. I’ve spilled all of my life story you’re going to hear, Agent Grant. It’s your turn.”

“We’ll have to find a different subject, then. Damn, I see we haven’t lost our shadow. If I’m not mistaken, the next off-ramp is the one you need to take.”

“So it is. Does this mean you’re really coming to my apartment?”

“I’m afraid so,” Logan said slowly. He checked and re-checked the car following them without giving the appearance that he was doing so.

“Then you can tell me all about Logan Grant. Must be a fascinating life you lead, what with criminals chasing you around, driving you into the back bedrooms of virtual strangers.”

“It was my sister’s bedroom. She’s hardly a stranger. And that doesn’t happen often. Agents aren’t supposed to talk about their private lives,” he muttered. “However, I will tell you that drugs aren’t all we suspect these men of trafficking. Don’t worry, though, I’m not planning to trouble you for long. Just until I call my office.”

Daphne exited the freeway and took the surface streets three blocks west to her apartment. Spotting a sports car pulling out of a parking place, she zipped into it, causing Logan to bump his head against the curve of the windshield when she braked fast.

“Sorry. This parking space is directly in front of my entrance. It means we only have to walk a few steps to get inside. I don’t see any other opening. Your friends back there will either have to double-park or wait until someone leaves. This time of the afternoon, when everyone’s coming home from work, chances of that are slim to none.”

“Good. Hey, I didn’t think to ask. Is your main door keyed or do you have a doorman on duty?”

“No doorman. This is a low-budget part of town. Almost anyone who wants to enter the building can get someone to buzz them in. I hate that the people here aren’t more careful, but it’s mostly college kids and artsy people. Either they have lots of company or they’re all in the habit of forgetting their keys.”

“It’s too late to worry about changing neighborhoods now,” he said. “I’ll bring your beach bag. You run ahead and unlock the door. Act like we’ve done this a million times. Pretend this is your Oscar-winning performance.”

She stuck out her tongue. “I’m not a struggling actress. Name me one person who’s ever won an Oscar for makeup. Well, they do, but no one can name them.”

“If we pull off this scam, babe, I’ll give you a gold statue myself.” Logan scrambled out of the cramped space, retrieved Daphne’s bag and actually whistled as he bounded up the steps. When she bent to insert the key, he casually placed a hand on her hip, as if it was habit.

The weight of his palm and the warmth of his long body standing so close sent heat to the pit of Daphne’s stomach. She fumbled her key and would’ve dropped the entire ring had Logan not been agile enough to catch it. Smiling, he kissed her knuckles and left red paint from his mouth smeared across her white glove. Then he opened the door without a hitch.

She refused to meet his eyes, certain she’d encounter a satisfied masculine smirk on his cocky face. Just continue to treat him the way you treat your brothers. She chanted that over and over, even as her brain turned to mush. Damn, she didn’t need the complication of a man in her life. But then, she clearly wasn’t Logan Grant’s type. She knew that instinctively. So at most, she’d have to play hostess for an hour or so. Just until someone from his office figured out how to get here and pick him up.