Medium Well (9781101599648) (14 page)

“So you could do what?” She finally raised her gaze to his. “It wasn't like she gave me any choice. I wrote the reports, but all I did was tell her where and when you showed houses.”

“I still should have been told what was going on.” He loosened his grip on the desk marginally. “Maybe I could have complained to Big Al myself.”

“I didn't think you'd want Big Al involved. That was one of the reasons I agreed to write the damn reports. To keep Araceli from making Big Al think something fishy was happening.”

“Something fishy
is
happening,” Danny snapped. “Mostly with your sister. I needed to know what she was up to, damn it!”

She flinched, looking away from him again.

He took a deep breath, then blew it out. “If you've got divided loyalties, tell me now, Biddy. I don't want to have to watch my back at the same time I'm trying to figure out what to do with the carriage house.”

He managed to ignore the faint pricking of his conscience. Maybe she had a point, but so did he. And right now he wasn't in the mood to be reasonable.

“Right.” Her eyes were sparking again. He almost felt like ducking.

She stood up, raising her chin to a dangerous angle. “Okay, for your information, Mr. Ramos, I do not have divided loyalties. I haven't ever told Araceli any of the stuff that's been going on at the carriage house beyond the potential clients you've talked to. No ghosts, no goblins, no things that go bump in the night. I also didn't tell her that her precious main house has its own ghost that pretty much scared the crap out of me yesterday. I will go on not telling her things like that in the future, not only because I know she wouldn't believe me, but also because I don't think it's any of her business. I wish I didn't know about all of it myself, but it's too late for that now. Is that okay with you, or do you want me to put it in writing?”

He drew a shuddering breath. “Okay, that clarifies the situation. Thanks.”

She leaned down to brush the wrinkles from her cotton skirt. “I'm going back to my cubicle now, if that's also okay with you, Mr. Ramos.”

He nodded. “Fine.”

“Fine,” she repeated. She turned a laser-sharp gaze on him once more. “And just for your information, Mr. Ramos, you have every right to be upset about Araceli making me spy on you. But it's Araceli you should be pissed at, not me. And you do not, repeat
not
, have the right to be a jerk about it.”

She turned and marched out of the office, her back ramrod-straight.

Danny sighed, rubbing his eyes. Not even four o'clock yet and already he felt like heading home to bed.

Chapter 14

Danny sat at the back of Tico's Taqueria, pretending that a bowl of stale peanuts was an adequate dinner. Everyone around him seemed to be on a date. Couples snuggled close together, smiling at each other. He'd never felt more solitary.

Oh suck it up, Ramos.

For a moment, he thought of the last time he'd been there with Brenda.
Brenda.
He frowned. When had he last talked to Brenda? He couldn't remember. And he found he didn't care.

He picked up his beer, surveying the room. Largish crowd for a weeknight. Maybe that meant the Chalk Creek Changelings' reputation was spreading. He ignored the quick pinch of regret—he didn't really want them to stay his own private discovery. Not really. Just a little.

The Chalk Creek Changelings had apparently moved up from being an opening act to being the main attraction. At any rate, another group was on the stage right now, doing something that sounded like a bad imitation of Big and Rich. The crowd wasn't impressed. Neither was he.

The waitress raised her eyebrow at him, gesturing at his beer. Something about that raised eyebrow and accompanying smile let him know she'd be interested in bringing him more than a beer if he played his cards right. He nodded at the beer and pretended to be dense about any other offers. Amazing what an eyebrow could indicate.

He was still trying to decide whether to apologize to Biddy after the show or just let it go. He hadn't exactly been wrong, after all. He had a right to be pissed over not being told what Araceli was up to.

On the other hand, he hadn't exactly been right, either. She had a right to be pissed, too. And he hadn't seen her for the rest of the afternoon after their confrontation.

So maybe he'd look for her now. Not to apologize, exactly, but to tell her he understood. That it was okay. That he wasn't mad anymore and she shouldn't be either. Truce.

Of course, her band might decide he was a stalker and pound him to a pulp.

The opening group left the stage to decidedly unenthusiastic applause, and Danny leaned back in his seat, watching Biddy and the guys set up. Whatever else he did, he intended to enjoy the performance.

Tonight she was in a floaty green chiffon dress, with a bottom ruffle that reached the tops of her knees. It looked like something she'd wear at a very hip garden party in the Carolinas. After one of Tico's abbreviated introductions, she sang the song about her cheating lover who was gone, so long, don't let the door hit your ass as you leave. Her voice had a bit more bite than the last time he'd heard her sing it, but he told himself that might be his imagination. Biddy didn't even know he was there, after all.

Other than that number, she was actually a little subdued—not that the band didn't kick ass just the same. The crowd cheered lustily at the end of their set, but the encore featured the guitarist rather than Biddy. No Cab Calloway.

He checked his watch. Eleven o'clock. He wondered what the chances were Biddy might come back into the club to unwind after the show, then he decided not to risk it.

The band members were loading their instruments into a battered panel truck at the back of the building when he got there. Sideshow Bob narrowed his eyes when he saw Danny. Definitely into anti-stalker mode.

Biddy peered over the guitarist's shoulder, staring at Danny for a long moment before she spoke. “Hello.”

“Hi,” he murmured, wishing Sideshow Bob and his buddies would fade away. “Have you had dinner?”

She nodded. “Hours ago.”

“Then you must be hungry again.” He gave her his most winning smile, the one that usually worked on all women over the age of fourteen.

Nobody smiled back. Not even Biddy.

He sighed. “Okay, listen, I was a jerk and I'm sorry. Please come and have a drink with me. Or a steak. Or basically anything you want.”
Come on, Biddy, I'm dying here.

She still didn't smile, but after a moment she nodded. “Let me finish loading up. Can you take my fiddle?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Danny took the case from her hands, tucking it under his arm. “You didn't drive?”

“Skip brought me.”

The guitarist gave Danny a look that reminded him of shotgun-toting brothers—or jealous potential boyfriends. Biddy picked up a piece of electrical equipment and loaded it beside the drum stand, then turned to the guitarist. “That's it, I guess. Skip, Danny will get me home. Right?” She raised an eyebrow in Danny's direction.

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

Skip narrowed his eyes, then glanced back at Biddy. “You're sure?”

“I'm sure.” She picked up a tote bag full of music and slung it over her shoulder, turning to Danny. “Okay, you're going to buy me a midnight supper, Mr. Ramos. Huevos rancheros at least, or maybe chilaquiles if I feel like it.”

He bowed. “Whatever you want, Ms. Gunter. I meant what I said.”

He wasn't sure what restaurants would be open at midnight, but Biddy directed him to a large, boisterous Mexican place with a waiter who was more than happy to bring her a plate of huevos rancheros, along with some enchiladas verdes for Danny. She finished her huevos in record time, and then ate about a third of his enchiladas. He considered ordering her a couple more plates.

He watched her lick a drop of tomatillo sauce off her lower lip and tried to ignore the tightening in his groin. “Are you always this hungry after a performance?”

She nodded. “Pretty much. Usually all the adrenaline keeps you powering through the show, but once it's over, you crash. Plus, I can't really eat anything before I sing.”

He managed a dry smile. “So you didn't really eat hours ago?”

“I did eat hours ago. A piece of toast and some tea with honey.” She blew out a breath. “Look, I was mad at you. I still am, a little. But food helps.” She gave him a slow smile that made his body ache.

The lights in the restaurant suddenly seemed much brighter than they had before, even if it was almost midnight. “I'm sorry about the whole thing with Araceli. It just caught me sort of off-balance.”

She nodded. “She caught both of us. Or actually Lois did. I thought I'd covered up taking the key by switching some other keys on the board, but I underestimated her ability to detect sneakiness.”

“I'll get Araceli off your case.” He pulled a tortilla out of the basket on the table. “I'll tell her I ordered you to get the key. I did, sort of.”

“Right.” She tore off a piece of tortilla for herself and wiped up a smear of sauce. “Like you forced me to go to the house with you, while I tried desperately to stay at the office where I belong. Trust me on this, not even Araceli will buy that one. She knows me too well.”

His lips tightened.
She doesn't know you at all.
“Did I blow your cover?” He speared the last bite of enchilada before she could beat him to it. “I know you were trying to stay under her radar.”

“I don't know how much longer I could have kept that up anyway. It sort of goes against my nature. All this ‘Yes, sir, no ma'am' stuff. It's really not my style.”

“So you'll tell Araceli about the Chalk Creek Changelings?”

She dropped her gaze to her plate again. “Not yet. Don't push it, Danny. I'm not your problem.”

Suddenly, he wanted her to be his problem. “Look, Biddy, it's not going to get any better there. I mean, Araceli's not going to change the way she feels about you and your music, no matter how wrong she is. And you're too good a musician to waste your time trying to keep her happy.”

She studied her refried beans, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Thanks, but I need to be the one who decides how to do this. For myself, and for her. We've got family things to work out. And she is my sister.”

He grimaced. “I can understand family feeling. God knows I've got enough family of my own, but Biddy . . .”

She reached out, placing her hand lightly on his. “If you understand, then let it be, Danny. I appreciate the support, but just let it go, okay?”

Heat radiated from her hand, spreading across his body and down. Her turquoise eyes held him. He wanted to slide into those pools, drift there, drown there.

Danny swallowed. He didn't think he'd ever gotten that hard that quickly in his entire life.

“Okay,” he managed to croak. “If that's what you want, Biddy.”

Turquoise sparkled now with fire, flecks of flaming gold
.
“What do you want, Danny?”

Oh, Lordy, talk about your leading questions! He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I want to pay the check and take you back to my place. Right now. Maybe sooner. Is that okay with you?”

Her lips spread into a slow grin, cheeks flushed, eyes alight. “Oh, yes. Definitely. Definitely okay.”

The drive to Monte Vista seemed to take about twice as long as usual. He considered running all the red lights. Surely there were more of them than there should have been. Beside him, Biddy sat silent.

He pulled into his driveway and stopped, then turned to look at her.

Don't change your mind, oh, my Lord, don't change your mind!

Her face was lost in the shadows from the live oaks in his front yard, and then she leaned forward into the reflected light from his porch. “That was the longest fifteen-minute drive in history.”

Danny closed his eyes, willing his body to slow down. “Yes, ma'am,” he murmured, as he pushed his door open. “It surely was.”

***

Biddy watched Danny unlock his front door. Nice house, what she could see of it. It looked like a forties stucco. Spanish-style with a tile roof. Maybe two stories. Good size for a single. Or a couple.

Without meaning to, she thought of the first time she'd seen him. Walking into the office, his suit coat slung over one shoulder, his collar open to show a V of golden skin, his sandy hair mussed, his eyes . . . Oh, those eyes! She'd thought he was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen.

This is your new assistant, my sister Biddy.
And she'd looked down at her tacky suit, her useless glasses, her stupid shoes, and wished to her soul that she'd never taken this job in the first place.

Of course, she didn't feel that way anymore!

Right now he seemed to be having a lot of trouble with his own front door lock, jiggling the key and cursing under his breath. She grinned. Somehow she'd managed to reduce Mr. Suave and Sexy to frenzied muttering.
Way to go, Biddy!

He finally pushed the door open. Moonlight poured through a window on the staircase landing, turning the front hall silver and gray. She stepped inside as he closed the door behind her, and he pulled her tight against his body.

She had a moment to be profoundly grateful that she hadn't had anything too garlicky for dinner. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, and she forgot how to breathe.

The kisses they'd had before had all been tryouts for this one, Biddy realized. She pulled herself tighter against the hard muscle of his chest, angling her mouth slightly so that his tongue could plunge deeper. Her body tightened and ached, tingling as if a current were radiating out from her center, and from his hands as they moved across her skin, touching, stroking, kneading.

One hand moved to her breast, his fingers rubbing across her nipple. She gasped, then moved her own hands down, feeling the contours of muscle beneath his shirt.

He lifted his head, muttering again. “We've both got way too many clothes on.” His eyes burned with green fire in the half darkness.

She ran her lips along the underside of his chin, grinning inside. “What happened to those scruples, Mr. Ramos?”

“What scruples?” he rasped, nibbling at the edge of her ear. “You must be thinking of somebody else. When it comes to you, all my scruples dissolve.”

She felt like laughing, but she was suddenly too breathless to manage it. For a moment she wondered if she might faint again, and then she knew she wouldn't.

He had found the zipper at the back of her dress. He fumbled with the hook and eye at the top, and then she felt cool air against her skin.

She slid her hands to his chest and jerked at the buttons on his knit shirt. After a moment, he stepped back, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor behind him.

He put his hands on her shoulders, staring down into her eyes. “I'm about two seconds away from doing you here against the door, and I don't want our first time to be like that. Come upstairs with me.” His voice rasped against her like something she could touch.

Whatever breath she'd been able to get back into her lungs promptly disappeared. She managed to nod, barely.

He reached down, wordlessly, and scooped her into his arms. Then he took the stairs two at a time.

She rested her hands on his chest, feeling the slight crinkle of hair under her fingertips. Would it be brown or golden? She promised herself to find out, maybe in the moonlight.

He turned at the top of the stairs, hitting a door with his shoulder. She had a quick impression of a dresser and closet as he stepped across the carpet, and then she was on her feet and he was pulling the sheer fabric of her dress over her head.

She reached to unfasten the front of her bra, and he covered her hand with his. “Wait a second. Let me look at you.”

Moonlight poured through the window, turning the darkness gray. She kicked off her shoes and stood in a pool of silver, letting the beams play across her body.

He slid his fingers along the line of light from her breast to her stomach, the slight roughness of his fingertips feathering across the surface of her skin. He unfastened the clasp of her bra, then pushed it off her shoulders, letting her breasts hang free.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

Normally, she might have doubted him, but right then she felt perfect herself. Right man, right night. Perfect timing, too.

She moved backward, feeling the side of the bed press against her legs.