Beautiful Maids All in a Row (31 page)

“Oh, it's you,” I said, feigning annoyance. There was just something about Luke's voice that brought out the teenager in me. “What do you want? I am very busy and too important now for those who knew me when.”

His warm chuckle on the other end made my smile grow wider, if possible. “Oh, so sorry to bother you, your highness, but I just wanted to see how Shelly Monroe and the meeting with the publisher went.”

I fell back into my chair and threw my legs over the armrest. “Shelly went great. She did mention she was upset you declined her request for an interview. I told her the FBI is a harsh mistress who doesn't like it when active agents splash themselves across the television.”

“And I assume I came up in the interview. Again,” he said with a tinge of annoyance.

I'd never known him to be annoyed by anyone but me. I did give him a plethora of reasons so I never blamed him. “Of course, but I only said good things.”

“Well, I'm sure I'll hear about it many, many times in the next few days. Every time you go on one of those shows, I get a play-by-play of
everything
you say about me. I'm getting sick of my own face on TV. People stop me on the street and start interrogating me about you, about things that are nobody's business.”

“Come on, you must enjoy being the top cop in America a little? You're the most famous, heroic FBI agent since Eliot Ness. You told me the last time we spoke Reggie was making noises about promoting you.”

“Well, the fact that reporters are camped out in front of the building and flooding the phones with questions about me can't be helping my chances. I'm trapped at a desk for the foreseeable future and the guys are getting resentful. You know what someone emailed to everyone? A picture of you and me in wedding clothes, except I'm the one in the dress.”

“Cute,” I said. “Did the dress show off your legs?”

“Not funny.”

“Yes, it is,” I insisted. “It's a joke, you're supposed to laugh. If you don't then they'll know they're getting to you and it'll never stop. Didn't you learn any of this in high school?”

“I went to a military academy,” he said, “if someone did something like this, they had to run five miles and face a tribunal. It didn't happen often.”

“Poor baby. You want me to come down and shoot them for you?”

Finally, he chuckled. “Tempting, very tempting.”

“Seriously, though, things should die down now. Shelly was the last interview I've agreed to. I have to lock myself in my house and write a book now. Some new scandal will grip the nation and we'll be yesterday's news.”

“I hope so.” He paused for a second. “I am proud of you, though. I want you to know that.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. You're not hiding away like last time. You've turned hell into something positive. You've come a long way in such a short time. I see you on TV and I'm amazed. You look so beaut—” He stopped himself—“
Healthy,
you look healthy.”

Okay, yes, my heart skipped a beat when he almost said I was beautiful. Coming from a man who my friend Carol swore was designed by a committee of gay men and straight women, it was something. I was by no means ugly, with long light brown hair with flecks of blonde in the right places, green eyes, enough cleavage to look good in a halter top, and no longer underweight, I got my fair share of compliments. But Luke Hudson fell into a whole other weight class. I'd actually seen waitresses fight to be the one to serve him. Muscular body in perfect proportion, perfectly coiffed red hair, Aquamarine eyes, killer smile when he used it. And if possible he looked even better naked. The man was just…yummy. I often had to stop myself from thinking about him in those terms. Friends, just friends. I couldn't handle anything else at that point. I'd just gotten him back. A flash of him lying on the floor of my basement after being shot three times crossed my mind. I said a silent prayer for the inventor of the Kevlar vest, hoping God had graced him with trillions of dollars and supermodels falling all over him.

“Thank you,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “I've, uh, been trying yoga.”

“It, um, shows.” He cleared his throat. He did that when he was uncomfortable. “Sorry. So, uh, you're leaving the circus, huh? Going back to Grafton?”

“Yeah. I think I'm going to rent a car,” I found myself saying. It'd been nothing but a thought until then. “If I never see the inside of an airport again it'll be too soon.”

“So, you'll be driving through DC then?” he asked hopefully.

“I…yes. Yes, I will be.” My subconscious was a tricky bitch.

“Then we should, uh, have dinner or something.” He cleared his throat again. “Or, you know, we can…the symphony's doing Handel at the Kennedy Center. I can get us tickets or…whatever.”

I drew my knees up to my chest, forming a ball. “I-I'd like that.”

“Good. Great. Excellent.” He cleared his throat yet again. “I, uh, can't wait.”

“Me neither. It'll be, um, good seeing you again. If it weren't for the publicity stills I'm pretty sure I'd forget what you looked like.” Yeah, that'd ever happen.

“I, uh, I…okay then. Just let me know when you'll be in town.”

“Okay. I'll, um, let you know. I have a meeting with BNN tomorrow morning, so I'll probably be there by four?”

“Okay. I'll uh, get the tickets. Clear my schedule. I, uh, I can't wait.”

“Me neither.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.” The uncomfortable silence filled the air on both our ends. “I'm gonna go now.”

“Yeah. Right. I'll uh…see you tomorrow. Bye.” He hung up.

It would be good to see Luke again. The last time we were in the same room was two weeks earlier when he was awarded the FBI Medal of Valor. We went out for a drink afterward—Ginger Ale for me—with some of his buddies, and I got phased out of the conversation quickly. I snuck out without even saying goodbye, which I heard no end of the next day. At least tomorrow it'd be just us. Alone. After that realization, the panic hit.

Oh, fuck,
I thought. I'd just agreed to dinner and a show. It'd been awhile—okay, two years, three months, and five days—but if memory served, dinner and a show was a date.
Did I just agree to a date with Luke Hudson?

“Oh, God,” I muttered as I picked up my phone and called Carol. She was my best friend and my advisor on all things romantic. Or at least she was the only person I trusted not to gossip about me or sell stories. Even my students had cashed in on the celebrity gravy train. I didn't fault them too much since I did as well. All but Carol. A true friend who always helped me get my head on straight. Damned if I didn't need her again.

She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” Carol asked in her milk and honey Southern accent. I was instantly homesick. It'd been over three weeks since I'd been home. I'd been living on planes and in hotels since I signed with Miranda and she began my press tour. I missed my home, friends, and especially my German Shepherd Gus more and more as the days went on. I would have started traveling earlier but wanted to stay and make sure Gus was okay after his surgery. Within days he was running around on his three legs like nothing happened. I couldn't wait to hug him rotten.

“Hey, Carol, it's Iris.”

She squealed like a little girl on the other end. “Oh, I'd hoped it was you,” she shrieked in excitement. “How'd it go? Is Shelly short in real life? I read somewhere she's barely five feet. Is it true? Did you get me an autograph?”

“It went fine. She is short. And yes, I got you an autograph.”

She squealed again, that time so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “I can't believe you got to meet Shelly Monroe. I am so jealous.”

“Well, next time I go, I'll get you backstage so you can meet her.”

“Well, I am going to hold you to that.”

I smiled to myself. “How's Gus?”

Yeah, I missed the big lug. I got him after the first attack for protection, but spent most of the time protecting him from the various creatures who inhabited the woods behind my house. When Shepherd broke into my house, Gus stepped up, biting that maniac's leg, getting shot in the process and losing his left hind leg. But my Gus wouldn't let a little thing like losing a leg stop him. He ran around, galloping like a small pony, or that's what the videos Carol sent me showed. She did tell me he milked his wounds for everything they were worth. When she'd skimp on the dog food he'd begin whining and licking his stump until she acquiesced. So I now owned a 120-pound, three legged dog with no shame. It wasn't exactly what the breeder advertised on the brochure.

“Hungry.”

“Glad to know he misses me,” I chuckled.

“Of course he misses you. We all miss you. When you comin' home?”

“Soon. Probably the day after tomorrow. I'm gonna rent a car, drive back down. Spend the night in DC.”

“Spend the night in DC, huh?” she asked with an air of mischief. “Are you plannin' on seein' a certain hunky federal agent while you're there?”

A month ago if I even
mentioned
the name Luke Hudson to Carol she'd sneer and roll her eyes, but now she practically has a hot flash. I was sure it had something to do with the fact that he almost died trying to save my life. That would have certainly done it. Okay, I was blushing again. Just the thought of going on a date made me flush. If I was right in front of him he'd think I had a sunburn.

“Actually, that's why I'm calling,” I admitted. “I just got off the phone with him and…” I couldn't say it.

“And what?” she asked impatiently. “Did you two get into another fight?”

“No! Nothing like that. In fact, he…” I just couldn't say it.

“Girl, spit it out!”

“He asked me out to dinner and the symphony and I said yes,” I blurted out.

There was that squeal again. “Y'all are going on a date!”

“It's not a date,” I clarified. “It's a…it's a date?”

“Isn't it?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, do you want it to be?” she asked.

That
was the question. Did I want Luke? Just the question made my stomach lurch. “I don't know,” I replied in a hollow voice. “I mean, he's one of my best friends. We have such…history. I…” I sighed. “I don't know if I'm ready to be in a relationship with anyone, let alone Luke Hudson.”

“Hon,” she said sympathetically, “it's been over two years since Hayden died. That's long enough. He'd want you to move on. Be happy.”

“With the man I cheated on him with? Even Hayden had his limits.” I looked down and noticed I'd been playing with my wedding ring, spinning the gold band round and round on my finger with my thumb. “I still miss him, you know.”

“I know. He'd be so proud of you, you know.”

“I hope so.” I stopped playing with the ring.

“As for the date thing, just…go with the flow. If it's right, it's right. You'll know.”

“I guess.”

“Oh, and I forgot to tell you. Your mother called.”

“My mother?”

“Yeah. Not ten minutes ago. She was looking for ya. Said it was real important and that she didn't have your new number.”

That couldn't be good. My mother never called me, except on holidays and my birthday, and even then the conversations never lasted more than a few minutes. “Okay, thanks Carol.”

“Hope everything's alright. She sounded mighty upset.”

“I'm sure everything's fine. I'll see you in a couple days, okay?”

“Yeah. Or longer. Just go with the flow.”

“Not funny,” I said sternly. “Hug Patrick and Gus for me. Bye.”

I hung up the phone, and after a sigh, I called my mother. She picked up on the first ring. “Hello?” Mom asked.

“Hi, Mom, it's Iris.”

“Oh, my good Lord, Iris!” she said breathlessly, sounding utterly relieved like I'd just told her the cancer was benign. “Thank you, God! I've been trying to reach you all day! Nobody had your number!”

“Yeah, I had to get a new phone. I forgot to send you the new number. So, what's up?”

“Oh, Iris, I…” She began to weep softly. “I'm so glad you called. I can't, I—” She started really sobbing. I sat straight up like someone had just stuck a rod in my back. She hadn't cried like that since she sat by my bedside and told me my husband was dead. “Mom, what is it?” I practically shouted. “What is the matter?” She couldn't stop crying long enough to form words. My anxiety grew with each sob. “Mommy, what is it?” I asked desperately. “What's the matter?”

“It-It's your brother. Billy,” she finally managed to say after a few deep breaths. “You need to come home.
Right now.
”

Every great mystery needs an Alibi

eOriginal mystery and suspense from Random House

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