Читать книгу Just Between Us... - Tori Carrington, Tori Carrington - Страница 10

HAD JACK REALLY JUST beeped the horn at her?

Mallory gaped at the old Chevy and at Jack himself. The late morning sunlight caught his dark hair just the right way, bringing out sandy highlights that only lent to his lean, handsome appeal. She swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat, gave him an irritated wave, then returned her attention to the prostitute she’d just introduced herself to.

Coco Cabana (she’d fought not to snicker) was more than just your average, run-of-the-mill hooker. First off, she had to be pushing fifty, a fact no amount of makeup, exercise or designer clothing could hide.

Second, she wasn’t a woman at all, but a man.

Of course, Coco hadn’t come right out and shared the information. And Mallory guessed that, after sundown, shadows obscured age and gender and Coco would probably be drop-dead gorgeous. But Mallory knew the score the instant she began talking to him.

He…she…whatever…was also the first person among the dozens Mallory had interviewed who knew more about The Red Gardenia than just passing rumor.

Coco lifted a cigarette to her mouth, her nails long, talonlike and blood-red. “Sure, I knew The Red Gardenia.” She rolled her eyes, blue ones enhanced with spidery false eyelashes and blue eye makeup. “We both arrived in L.A. at about the same time.”

Mallory’s heart skipped a beat. But she still didn’t completely trust the extent of Coco’s knowledge. “And her real name was…”

“Jenny Fuller, of course.”

Check.

“And she was from?”

Coco waved her cigarette. “Omaha, I think. Yeah. It was Nebraska.”

Double check.

“Horrible tragedy, that one,” Coco added with a sigh. “She had a future. Could have been a real contender.”

Now that was a different take. Most people Mallory spoke to said that Jenny Fuller had probably gotten what she deserved. That Hollywood had a way of glossing over the details and that a good girl usually wasn’t all she appeared.

Mallory sometimes wondered how much bad a girl from Nebraska could get into in six months.

Jenny Fuller’s story wasn’t all that unusual. People who came to L.A. armed only with their dreams were a dime a dozen. But the aspiring actress—whose claim to fame had been a beer ad that featured her wearing a twenties getup and a red gardenia in her hair—and her unsolved murder twenty-five years ago had come to represent all those forgotten someones whose dreams of stardom had ended, and would end, in tragedy.

Mallory looked back to Coco. She’d been digging for more info of the sympathetic and specific variety for months now. And while it seemed her personal life was in the dumps, her professional life appeared to have just taken a full tilt toward the better.

At least she hoped so.

“Look,” Coco said. “If you’re not going to feed me, pay me, or provide some other kind of amusement, sweetie, then I’m going to have to move on. This is a working day, you know.”

Mallory tried to hide her smile. “Tell me about it.”

Coco reached into her sequined purse, watched as a Cadillac with tinted windows rolled by, then reapplied peach-colored lip gloss that Mallory suspected she could see her reflection in if she leaned in close enough. “My landlord just kicked me out this morning so I need some quick cash to look for a place.”

Mallory pointed her finger at the hooker then back at herself. “You and me both.”

Coco leaned back in order to get a better overall look at Mallory. “Girl, you’ve got to work on your appearance if you hope to get any business.”

Mallory nearly choked. “Strangely enough, talking to you now is working for me.” She flipped her notepad closed and considered the other, um, woman. All she had to do was say the word and Candy Cane would snap up Coco without batting an eyelash. Lost causes seemed to be her middle name. As long as Coco didn’t have any animal allergies, these two people who shared the same vocation would get along famously. “Look, I have a friend in my apartment complex who would be willing to put you up until you find a place. What would it mean to you if I gave this friend a call and checked it out for you?”

“Monetarily?” Coco asked.

“Information wise.”

Coco stared at her unblinkingly. “On The Red Gardenia?”

Mallory nodded.

Coco took three quick drags off her cigarette then picked a piece of tobacco off her tongue as she considered the proposition. “Where’s this place?”

Mallory had her and she knew it.

Yes! Her first real lead in The Red Gardenia case.

Her smile slipped.

Well, it wasn’t really a lead. But it was information that the police didn’t appear to have. Of course, she had to remind herself, her goal wasn’t to actually solve the case, but rather to create a more vivid picture of the young actress who had been murdered twenty-five years ago.

But if she did happen to solve the case…

She shivered all over.

Behind her Jack’s horn blew again.

“Do you have time to go see the place now?” Mallory asked.

WHERE DOES SHE FIND these people?

Jack pulled up outside Mallory’s apartment complex then glanced in his rearview mirror where “Coco” was staring into a round compact repairing his mask. Jack squeezed and released the steering wheel several times. Two large, faded tapestry suitcases were in his trunk. Lord only knew what they held.

Surely Mallory wasn’t going to let Coco move in with her.

“Do you want to come to Candy’s with me, or wait here?”

Jack knew a moment of relief. Good. She was taking the aging transvestite to Candy’s. He tried to make out if Coco’s cleavage was real. Well, not real, but surgically or hormonally enhanced. Oh, yeah, there were real swells there, all right. Then what would that make him? A transsexual? He supposed it all depended on if his original equipment was still intact.

He glanced at Mallory to find her glaring at him.

What? he asked silently.

Then he realized she was piqued because he’d been staring at Coco’s cleavage.

“So?” she asked.

“So what?”

“Are you going to wait here or come with us?”

He considered her for a long moment. He’d been with her for the past two hours and she had yet to breathe one word about last night. In fact, he would have thought she’d forgotten about it altogether if not for the wary shadow he saw in her brown eyes. She’d never been wary around him before.

“None of the above,” he replied.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’m going home.”

“You can’t.”

Jack turned to look Coco full in the face. “Do you mind waiting outside?”

“Outside? As in outside the car?”

“Is there any other outside?” he asked.

Mallory gaped at him. “I’m sorry, Coco. Domestic issues.”

Mallory climbed from the car to let the aging, questionable prostitute out of the two-door car, then she got back in. He watched Coco walk to stand behind the car, out of earshot.

“You can tell her…him he can take care of his own suitcases from here on out, too.”

Mallory made a sound of indignation. “What’s gotten into you, Jack? You’re being so…rude.”

Well, well, well. Look who was calling the kettle black. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens to a man when the woman he’s…interested in ignores his advances for something more.”

“Are we back to that again?” she asked.

“We never left it, Mall.”

She got out of the car again, then popped her dark head of curls back through the open window. “Stay put. You and I…we need to powwow.”

Powwow? Had she really just said powwow?

But as he sat watching her struggle with Coco’s suitcases, then waddle toward Candy’s, her jeans molded to her pert little bottom, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Damn it.

He picked up his travel coffee cup and put it to his lips only to find it empty.

He grimaced. Was he seeing a pattern here or what?

What remained was whether or not he had the balls to do anything about it.

LATER THAT NIGHT Mallory flopped down on what she thought might be her couch hiding under clean laundry she had draped over it the day before. Of course, the dryer would have to break down in the middle of her load. And she hadn’t had a chance to fold the things and put them away yet. She supposed she might do it now, but…well, as she looked at Jack, other, more important, things came to mind.

Jack stood in the middle of the room, staring down at her while wearing the same expression he’d been wearing all day. At least five times she’d had to talk him out of leaving her to go home. And each time he’d grown sulkier and sulkier.

“Are we done now?” he muttered, his hands fisted and shoved deep into the pockets of his cargo jeans.

Mallory allowed her gaze to drift over him. He was quite a man, this Jack Daniels. Wherever they went, women openly ogled him, making no secret of their interest. Not that Jack paid any attention. He was completely oblivious to the attention he received. And when he did catch wind of it—like when she, Layla and Reilly jokingly threw cat calls his way every now and again—he’d mumble and curse and move out of sight as fast as he could.

Now she watched him shift his weight from his right foot to his left, his present discomfort level rising with the sweep of her gaze from his loafer-clad feet to his snug black T-shirt.

She’d begun the exercise of giving him a provocative once-over to tease him. And while it was working—as she’d known it would—she also found herself getting a little more than turned on.

Mmm…

“Can I leave now?” he said, obviously clenching his teeth.

“Nope,” she said, using the word he’d used on her all day.

His bedroom-brown eyes narrowed. “Mallory…”

“Jack…” she said, reaching for the hem of her T-shirt and pulling it over her head.

She knew he loved to see her undergarments. She might not be a total fashion plate, but just as she took extra care in picking her comment-laden T-shirts, she also took great pleasure in choosing her lingerie carefully. The bra she had on today was deep purple with demi cups and sexy lace edging. She sat up and gave a little shimmy as if trying to get more comfortable, satisfied when his gaze dropped to her cleavage and his pupils instantly took over the color of his irises.

Yeah, baby. Show Mama how much you want her.

Her nipples hardened under his steady scrutiny and she pushed her breasts out even further. They strained against the demi cups and she knew that Jack was wishing they’d just pop right out.

“Mallory…” he said again in warning, though most of the conviction had drained away.

She popped the front button on her jeans, allowing the zipper to slide partway down on its own steam to reveal her matching pair of purple lace panties.

She watched Jack swallow hard.

Mallory tried to formulate her next move, but the truth was her brain was starting to feel a bit muddled and the heat gathering between her thighs was downright distracting. His gaze moved back to her face as if he was searching for some way to combat his growing physical need. So she licked her lips, making sure to do it slowly and provocatively.

“Now,” she said, surprised to find her voice so husky. She’d been going after the effect but even she couldn’t have predicted the outcome. Candy, with her throaty cadence, had nothing on her. “I think we’d better discuss this, um, whole no-sex issue.”

She thought she heard a choking sound, but she couldn’t be sure. But she did know that Jack was looking a little rough around the edges. He nodded. “Yes. I think we should, too.”

She scooted over on the couch, pushed a few items of clothing out of the way, then patted the cushion. “Why don’t you sit down next to me?”

He did nothing for long, silent moments, then he shook his head. “I, um, don’t think that’s such a great idea.”

Mallory smiled. “Why?”

“Because we won’t discuss the sex issue. We’ll be having sex.”

“Exactly what I had in mind.”

“Exactly why I’m staying right where I am.”

She saw his face take on a competitive appearance. Damn. Maybe she could use a pointer or two from Candy.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Then I’ll come to you.”

Jack seemed so surprised by the proposal that he didn’t move when she pushed off the couch then stood before him, not touching, but definitely close enough to.

Of course, if she had a hope of getting this femme fatale role down pat, she’d have to learn to quiet her own riot of emotions whenever she came this close to Jack.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Jack said, though his voice was hoarse.

“Mmm. You don’t have to.” She looked at the solid column of his throat. “But you don’t mind if I kiss you, do you?”

He opened his mouth to answer her but she put her palm over his mouth, trapping his words there. Then she tilted her head to press her lips against the front of his throat, then the side, breathing in the fresh scent of his skin, absorbing the warmth radiating from him like a fine musk. He swallowed again and she smiled, blinking her eyes so that her lashes dragged across his skin.

“Come on, Jack,” she murmured, itching to feel his hands on her. All over her. She wanted him to explore every inch of her flesh in that possessive way of his, lay claim to her. But he didn’t budge an inch.

“We are not having sex, Mall.”

She smiled and slowly began kissing her way down to the collar of his T-shirt. She tugged the soft cotton out of his jeans then worked her fingertips under the hem, not stopping until she felt the hard muscles of his abdomen. How he kept in such great shape, she didn’t know. A more inactive man, she’d never met. But whatever he was doing was working. He was a fine, chiseled specimen of male virility. And just looking at him made her want to rip off her clothes and beg for him to sex her.

She tugged down the collar of his T-shirt and ran her tongue the length of his collarbone. Of course, right now it looked like she was going to have to be the one doing the sexing.

Which was all right with her….

Under his T-shirt, she ran her fingertips down his sides, and he shivered. She smiled then started to slide down the length of him. When he would have protested, she chased the air from his lungs by suctioning her lips to his stomach, then sticking her tongue into his navel, which was a delicious innie. When she was finally kneeling in front of him, she easily found the thick ridge straining against the front of his cargo pants, all the while keeping her gaze plastered to his. It didn’t do much to her ego to see his quiet wariness. But there was no denying he was turned on so she pushed ahead.