Nice & Naughty (7 page)

“What you need is an intermediary. Someone the townspeople like and respect. Someone who can put them at their ease, as well as give you insight into whether or not they’re being truthful.”

“I don’t need people at ease,” Diego said between clenched teeth. “Nor do I need someone to tell me something I’ve been trained to observe myself.”

“’Course you don’t.” The mayor tapped the pipe against his knee again before bringing it to his mouth and making a show of lighting it. A couple puffs, and he gave Diego a stern look through the sweetly scented smoke. “But it’d make me feel a whole lot better.”

Trapped and screwed over, all at the same time. Diego wondered if this was how prisoners felt when the doors of the cell slammed closed.

* * *

R
ESTLESS
, J
ADE
SLAMMED
one book after the other into a stack, taking great satisfaction at the noise. She’d played on her favorite website for a while, putting outfit after virtual outfit together. Until she’d realized all the outfits were designed for seducing a very uninterested detective. Then playing stylist had lost its appeal.

What good was Santa if he sent her the perfect man for perfect sex, but that man wasn’t into her? It was like wrapping a remote-control race car in bright, fancy paper and putting the biggest, brightest bow on top. And not including the remote.

Typical to her life, she supposed. She glanced around and sighed. Just like this job. The library was nice enough. One of the prettiest buildings in Diablo Glen. Solid oak graced not only the floors, but the gleaming rows of tall bookcases and a dozen cozy tables. The chairs were the kind a person could sink into for hours, and the art on the walls were originals. Shooting off four of the walls in the octagonal room were arched halls, each labeled with a hand-carved wooden sign.

It was rich and warm and welcoming.

And felt like a prison.

“My Humps” rang out, pulling Jade from her funk.

At least the prison came with phone privileges. She snickered as she answered her cell.

Ten minutes later, she tossed the phone back in her purse and stared at the pages of notes she’d made.

“Good news, dear?”

“I’m not sure.” Frowning, Jade shrugged before glancing toward her mom. “It was the administrative office at the community college. They invited me to do a series of guest lectures next semester.”

Opal clapped her hands together, beaming with pride as she wheeled toward her daughter. “Darling, that’s wonderful.”

“It’d only be six classes, not a full load,” Jade said, trying to decide if she was excited or not. “I’d have to send a course description and syllabus for approval.”

Was this a good thing? A part of her was doing handstands. But another part was settling in for a deep pout, since this was yet more evidence that she wasn’t living in a big city, working as a stylist to the rich and famous.

“A description and syllabus shouldn’t be difficult. Would you use the empowerment workshops you’ve already taught here, or come up with something new?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Jade said, staring at, but not seeing, the counter.

She loved the workshops here, and it’d be fun to take the message wider. Empowerment Through Fashion. Know Yourself, Know Your Style. Tried-and-True: Wardrobe Staples and Attitude Standards. It was a good opportunity. A chance to really expand her workshops and reach a lot more people.

Possibly a whole new career direction.

But she already had enough issues feeling like a fraud here in her small hometown. Would a bunch of people want to pay good money—at a college, no less—to listen to a woman who wanted to be a fashion stylist, but wasn’t empowered enough to go for the dream?

“I’ll have to think about it,” she finally said, her throat so tight it was hard to get out the words. “It’s no biggie either way.”

Opal gave her a look that said she clearly saw the flashing chicken sign over her daughter’s head. But she let it pass. She’d been letting a lot of things pass lately, Jade realized. She frowned at her mother, noticing that she was not only wearing a new shade of lipstick, but one of her best day dresses that Opal usually saved for church. Before Jade could ask what was up, though, her mother gave her watch a pointed look.

“My shift is finished and I’m meeting...um, someone for lunch,” Opal said quickly, an attractive wash of pink coloring her cheeks and making Jade frown. What was her mother up to?

“Marion is due in an hour to relieve you. You go home when she gets here, Jade. Don’t let her guilt you into thinking that taking a couple of hours off this morning is something you have to make up for by staying late.”

If it was anyone but Marion, Jade might have.

Before she could make a snarky remark, or her mother could offer up any more warnings, the doors opened.

“Home in an hour,” Opal said quietly as she turned her scooter toward the door to leave. The quiet whir of the motor stopped short when she saw who’d come in. A quick glance back at her daughter showed she was struggling, but after a deep breath, she continued toward the exit.

“Thank you,” she murmured to the man holding the heavy oak door wide.

Jade waited until the doors shut behind her mother before letting the excitement building in her tummy spiral through the rest of her body.

“Good afternoon, Detective Sandoval. What a pleasure. What brings you back my way so soon?” Her question was innocent. The low, husky, flirtatious tone was anything but. She leaned her forearms on the high counter, tilting her head to one side, liking the way the bright afternoon light streamed through the library windows, the watercolor effect of the stained glass surrounding him in an ethereal glow.

Maybe Santa hadn’t done her wrong?

Then again, the good detective was standing at the steps by the door, not budging an inch closer. A gift she had to work for? Hmm, she considered. Well, for one that fine, she was willing to expend a little effort.

“I just spoke with the mayor,” Diego said, not looking as if it’d been a fun conversation. Jade was surprised. Applebaum had a way about him that people usually enjoyed.

“Do tell?” she invited, figuring he wouldn’t have mentioned it if there wasn’t something in the conversation that pertained to her. The detective just wasn’t the sharing type.

“He seems to think that the investigation would go smoother, faster, if I had an intermediary.”

Eyes rounding, Jade shot her brows up. She pressed her lips together to keep from grinning. Her toes wiggled in her boots, but she managed to still them as well. Nope, no happy dancing. It might change his clearly teetering mind.

“Does he?” she said as soon as she was sure she wouldn’t sound as though she was gloating. “What sort of intermediary?”

The look he shot her said he knew exactly what her toes were doing and he wasn’t happy about it. Still, he moved the rest of the way into the room, stopping just a foot from the counter. Must be in appreciation for her attempted restraint.

“Oh, you know. Someone to introduce me around, lay the groundwork so people will talk to me,” he said stiffly, throwing her words back at her. “Someone who can gauge whether people are telling me facts or fiction.”

A giggle escaped before Jade could stop it. Her hand flew to her mouth, but it was too late. His frown turned into a scowl. But she saw the light in his dark eyes. Oh, yeah, that was amusement in those sexy depths. She was sure of it.

“I swear,” she said, holding up one hand as if taking an oath, “I didn’t call him. After seeing my lingerie take the outdoor tour, I forgot about it.”

Which was pretty much the truth. Well, she’d mentioned it in passing to her mom, but only as a setup to the “coming home to see her panties dangling from the eaves” story.

“Fine. I’ll take your help. But first we need to get a few things clear.”

Before he could get to those things, though, a wince-inducing squeak filled the room.

They both turned to watch Mrs. Green push a book cart, the top shelf covered in brightly colored romance novels, most with half-dressed couples looking as if they were going to jump each other. Jade made a mental note of a couple of the positions, hoping she’d get a chance to try them out soon.

“I’ve got my books for the week, Jade. Can you check me out? Carrie will be here any minute now to pick me up.” She squeaked the cart to the edge of the tall counter. Then, a little breathless, she peered up at Diego through her tiny round lenses. “Detective. Are you here looking for clues?”

“Just checking with Miss Carson for some background information on a few things.” He hesitated a second, then, with the same look the neighbor boys had worn when caught smashing pumpkins two months before, he helped the elderly woman shift her book selection from the cart to the counter.

Jade’s heart turned to goo.

“Ah, good idea. Our Jade is a fount of information.”

Mrs. Green reached across the counter to pat Jade’s hand, then snapped her fingers. “Or, if that doesn’t work, the mystery section is quite extensive. I suggest you look to Miss Marple for ideas.”

Diego’s hand froze, his expression baffled. Jade ran her tongue over her front teeth, hoping the threat of biting it would keep the grin at bay.

Who?
he mouthed.

Jade tilted her head. Following her direction, Diego glanced to the left. A portrait of a woman in a large, ornate gold frame hung on the wall. The plaque beneath it said Agatha Christie.

His gaze shot back to Jade. She busied herself checking out the books to keep her hand from patting his cheek. He was such a big, bad, tough loner, but there was something about Diego that made her want to cuddle him close.

“Um, thanks,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

There it was. That was why she wanted to cuddle him. Because for a big, bad, tough loner, he was just about the sweetest, most sensitive man she’d ever met.

“See that you do.” Mrs. Green gave a sharp nod in emphasis, then took the bag Jade held out, huffing a little at the weight. “Thank you, dear.”

Diego nodded goodbye. The look he gave Jade warned that she keep all comments to herself. Since most of the ones floating through her brain were sappy and sweet, she didn’t figure she wanted to share anyway.

“About that help,” he said, stepping aside for the elderly woman to pass. As she did, Jade watched Mrs. Green’s eyes drop, then a wicked expression crossed her wrinkled face. She could have warned him. But what was the fun in that?

The little old lady stopped right behind him, hesitated for just a second to give Jade a questioning look. Then, with a shrug that said life’s too short to hold back, she reached out one gnarled, age-freckled hand and patted Diego’s ass.

His eyes widened in shock. His body stiffened as if he’d just been hit in the head with a big stick.

The frown he gave Jade was ferocious.

Then, looking horrified, he turned to watch the little old woman toddle her way across the polished wood floor, her bag of sexy books over her arm and a candy-cane-striped scarf trailing down her back.

“That did not just happen,” he vowed.

“Oh, it happened, all right.” Jade laughed so hard she snorted. At his arch look, she clamped her hand over her mouth and, eyes sparkling with glee, tried to pull herself together.

“Oh, man, the look on your face,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“That old lady just patted my ass,” he said, nonplussed.

“Well, it’s a nice ass,” Jade said agreeably. “Surely it’s happened before.”

“I live in a big city. I’m surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people every day. I crawl through the dregs, the desperate and the depraved. But I can’t remember the last time someone patted my ass.”

Biting her lip, Jade watched him closely. It was one thing for her to think he had a soft, cuddly center. But he was still pretty much an unknown. And he’d just been fondled by a woman three times his age. He wouldn’t do anything crazy, would he? Like chase the old woman down and write her a citation for inappropriate handling of an officer of the law?

“Should I be flattered?”

Relief and something else, something she was too scared to put a name to, poured through her.

“You should be flattered, in the sense that you do have a mighty pattable tush,” she told him, giving her brows a playfully suggestive wriggle.

“But?”

She snickered at his play on words. “But, she pats my tushie, too. So it’s not personal. Well, it is, in that it’s your butt she’s touching. But she wasn’t making a move so much as showing affection.”

“Affection?”

“Sure. She’s babysat almost everyone in Diablo Glen at one point or another. Diapered most of us. Mrs. Green pretty much sees everyone as a little kid.”

“That’s kinda weird.”

“That,” she assured him, “is typical of Diablo Glen.”

“You’re on the clock, Jade,” a voice said, coming from the employee entrance. “You can talk to your boyfriend on your own time.”

Jade sighed. She turned to face her future in-law. As usual, Beryl’s fiancé’s mom Marion looked as if she’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Her iron-gray hair showed recent signs of a kitchen-shear trim, highlighting the deep creases between her brows. That’s what years in an empty bed did to a woman. Jade rubbed her own forehead, wondering how long it’d take for her own scowl lines to etch in that deep.

Marion had arrived in Diablo Glen ten years ago, a single mom whose husband had run off, leaving her to raise Neal alone. Since then, she’d bought a large chunk of the land on the west side of town, harangued her way into a position of power in the community and hooked her son up with the prettiest girl in Diablo Glen—although Jade might be a little biased there. Despite her ferocious demeanor, she wasn’t all bad. She regularly donated lovely handmade ethnic crafts and clothing to the local sales and every Christmas brought a feast of tamales, enchiladas and homemade tortillas to the Christmas party. Jade figured she saved her softer side for the revolving door of relatives that often landed on her property at the edge of town.

“Marion Kroger, Detective Sandoval with the sheriff’s department,” Jade introduced in lieu of a greeting or correction. After all, she wouldn’t mind him being her boyfriend. Or man toy. Whatever. “The detective is here regarding the Panty Thief crimes.”