Animal Instincts (14 page)

Watching them proved to be a surreal experience. I’d gone from snooping to finding incriminating
photos to happy domesticity in less than seven minutes. I almost wished I was dreaming.

“Time to go,” I said, my voice tense.

Everyone’s attention snapped to me.

“Are you feeling better, sweetie?” My mom pushed to her feet, her expression concerned. At her sides, her hands twisted the material of her slacks. “Mel said you were sick.”

“No, uh, I’m not feeling better. I’m very sick.” I coughed for good measure.

“I thought it was your stomach,” Jonathan said.

“Throwing up probably scratched her throat,” Mel said helpfully.

“Yes, that’s right.” I rubbed my stomach and gave another cough. “I hate to leave so early, but I need to get home.”

A look of relief washed over Mel and Kera’s faces, and they raced to my side, wrapping their arms around me and pretending to hold me up. “Let’s get you home and put you to bed,” Mel said. “You look awful. Just awful.”

Gee, thanks. I allowed them to lead me toward the front door.

“Did you find anything?” Kera whispered.

“Phone records.”

“I’ll ring you tomorrow and see how you’re feeling,” my mom called after us, a wealth of meaning in her words.

I
SPENT THE NEXT DAY
,
Friday, on the phone.

Royce called me. Richard did, too.

I told Richard to die and go to everlasting hell. I hung up on Royce without a word. He called me back, and I said, “Nice photo of you with Gwendolyn. Your non-girlfriend. Did you ask her to marry you, too?”

He laughed. Actually laughed. “She’s a friend, nothing more. We do the charity circuit together. I’d love for you to be my date from now on. Are you interested?”

He sounded so sincere, but then, Richard had always sounded sincere as well.

I told Royce, “No thanks,” and ended the call, not knowing what to think. Should I believe him? And why the hell was I so concerned? We weren’t in a relationship—I’d made sure of that.

I avoided my mom’s “did you find anything” call. I avoided Jonathan’s “how do you feel” call. I did answer Jennifer’s “would you like to go on a date” call and explained the kiss I’d planted on her. She took it well.

Through it all, my BlueJay never shut up. It continued to beep and beep and beep.

Finally I drop-kicked the little bastard out the window, taking immense satisfaction when I heard it shatter. Feeling better, I dialed every number on Jonathan’s cell-phone bill, giving everyone the same story. “Your number was on my caller ID. Who are you and why did you call this number?”

The responses were wide and varying. Only two disturbed me, however. Jonathan had called Nora Hallsbrook, his secretary, numerous times during the middle of the night. He’d also phoned a local beauty salon six times. Body Electric. That meant only one thing: the lying little prick was having phone sex with his slutty secretary, then paying for her beauty appointments.

How cliché. How infuriating! I knew he hadn’t called the salon to book an appointment for my mom. She wouldn’t have been able to talk about anything else.

As mad as I was at my stepdad, though, I was also deeply hurt and feeling unbelievably betrayed. He was
supposed to be different than my father. He was supposed to guard our family unit. He was supposed to love my mom, cherish her. He was supposed to love
me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I would have liked a copy of Johnnie’s Visa bill to see exactly what he’d purchased for Nora. Tanning? Laser body hair removal? Total body rub to assuage the guilt she felt for helping destroy a marriage?

I’d seen Nora on numerous occasions. She was a semi-attractive woman in her early forties with big, ratted hair and lots of makeup, but she wasn’t the woman I’d seen in those photos, the young woman with the child. Could Jonathan be seeing two women on the side? It wasn’t too far-fetched. Richard, may he fall into the ocean and be torn apart by a pack of wild, vicious, man-hungry sharks, had had booty available in every apartment building and housing unit in every city in the United States.

God, what was I going to tell my mom? Nothing, I decided in the next flash. Not yet. I shouldn’t go to her without concrete proof. Otherwise, she might blow off everything I said. Make excuses for Jonathan and wallow in disbelief.

Like I had done for so many years. Like she had done before.

Jumping up, I raced to my kitchen and grabbed my phone book. Proof. Oh yeah, I’d get her proof. I looked up the address for both Nora and the salon. Just as I finished writing them down, my phone rang.

Caller ID showed Powell, Royce. I grabbed the phone and barked, “What?”

“I’ve decided whether or not you go with me, I’m not going to escort Gwen to any more events. I only want to go with you.”

My skin tingled at the sound of that rich, husky promise. His words shouldn’t matter, but they did. I might be an idiot (again), but I believed him (kind of).
Dumb ass,
my Tigress said. Was I just like my mom?

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No, sorry,” I said, regret pounding through me. “I’m busy.”

“Doing what? Working on my mother’s party?”

“Actually, no. Now isn’t a good time to talk. I’m on my way out.”

“Where’s your BlueJay? I programmed a meeting today and it should have been beeping all morning. You should be on your way to my office.”

“Hmm, well, I haven’t heard a thing.” A knock sounded at my door. I pushed out a frustrated sigh, hating to end the conversation, but knowing I needed to, and walked into the living room. “I’ll talk to you later. We need to discuss tomorrow’s trip to Colorado and the fact that I still don’t want to go.” I hung up before he could utter a single protest and tossed the phone on my couch.

From the coffee table, I snatched up my keys and purse—I had yet to replace the stolen one, so I had to make do with this old, ugly white one. Right now I wore brown pants and a white top. Brown sandals,
perfect for the two-mile walk ahead. My hair was in its usual twist. Hopefully I presented a completely unnoticeable and unmemorable package.

Without stopping to check who wanted to visit with me, I jerked open my door, ready to send whoever it was scurrying.

I stopped dead in my tracks instead.

Royce smiled down at me. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt. The material clung deliciously to his biceps and pecs, outlining every ridge and peak. I’d never seen him dressed so casually, and the sight made my mouth water. My nipples immediately took notice, jumping up to say,
Hi, Royce. We love you and really want to introduce ourselves to you properly.

“I worked late last night, and I took the day off because I’d planned to meet with you today,” he said, pocketing his cell. Still smiling—perhaps because he’d caught a glimpse of my naughty nipples—he said, “I’m going with you, wherever it is you’re going in such a hurry.”

I fought a shiver of anticipation. The thought of spending the day with him appealed to me in so many ways. I’d get to hear his voice, feel his warmth, even stare at him if I wanted. I’d also get a distraction that I, Detective Delacroix, couldn’t afford.

“No, you’re not.” I scooted around him, doing my best not to touch him, and locked the door. Not sparing him a glance, I stalked toward the main lobby. I loved having a bottom-level apartment. No stairs or elevator for me, thank you.

“Where we going?” He was barely a step behind me.

As I pretended to ignore him, I felt the heat of him all the way to my bones. I stopped before going outside. The scent of sandalwood taunted and teased my nose. “You’re not going to get rid of me,” he said, before I could tell him to go away.

“Royce—”

“Naomi. I’m coming. End of conversation.”

If I didn’t invite him to come with me, I realized, he’d follow me and draw all kinds of unwanted attention my way. He was just too damn noticeable with that sexy, recognizable face of his. I’d rather deal with a distraction than the possibility of being spotted by my prey.

“Can you be sneaky, Royce? Can you blend into a crowd?”

“Yes,” he answered, his forehead furrowed in confusion.

“Do you have a car with you?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, you can come.” Silver lining: I wouldn’t have to walk, nor would I have to pay for a cab if I changed my mind about walking. I hated cabs, hated buses more, but I didn’t yet have the money to fix my jalopy. “We’re going to a salon on Main Street. Body Electric.”

“The joy in your voice is making me feel all warm inside.”

“Then my day is complete,” I said with a sarcastic edge.

He snorted.

Lord, he was even sexy when he snorted. I felt
myself melting, my bones liquefying in anticipation of a touch. Already my hands itched to explore him. Itched to touch his skin, itched to wrap around his—

“What are you having done at the salon? You’re perfect just the way you are.”

I tossed him a frown before pushing open the door. He was doing it again. Being sweet and irresistible, making me go disgustingly gooey inside. “Don’t be nice to me, okay?” I’d already established I couldn’t resist him physically, but I really needed to resist him emotionally. He made that extremely difficult with his devilish, charming personality.

“What?” He gave a choked little laugh. “Why?”

“Just because.” Bright sunlight and sweltering heat hit me full force, and I was suddenly thankful he’d insisted on coming. I would have hated to spend more than a few seconds in this heat.

Beside me, bushes swayed together despite the fact that there was no wind. Odd. But then I spotted the shattered remains of my BlueJay, forgot about the ghost bushes, and steered Royce away, trying to direct his attention somewhere else. “Uh, to answer your first question, I’m not having anything done. I just want to look around. Where’s your car?”

Without a word, he sauntered to a black stretch limo and opened the passenger door. Such wealth and luxury appeared odd in front of my modest apartment building, with its un-mowed, brittle grass and peeling stucco.

Royce waved me inside. “After you.”

I remained in place, floundering in a puddle of
shocked awe. “Are you trying to impress me? Because it’s working.”

“Actually,” he said, a sheepish grin on his gorgeous face, “I just wanted my hands free.”

Yippee,
my nipples cried.

I hope he plays with us first,
my thighs chimed in.

“Damn it!” I muttered. I had to get my thoughts under control. I might—might—believe him about Gwendolyn Summers, but I was on a mission to save my mom. Nothing else mattered at the moment, not even pleasure.

“What?” Royce asked, all innocence.

“You better keep those hands to yourself.” I slid inside the car…and felt like all my troubles instantly melted away. Luxurious air-conditioning enveloped me. The seats were so plush and perfect I couldn’t help but revel in their delicious decadence. Soft as clouds they were. I could have sunk into a coma of bliss.

Royce scooted inside until our shoulders brushed. A shiver rolled down my spine.

“Body Electric,” he told the driver. Seconds later, the limo eased into motion. “Want to tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked me. “You’ve got shadows under your eyes, and you’re unusually pale.”

I didn’t want to talk about my cheating stepdad, so I said, “Did you see the article about me in the
Tattler?
”

“Well, yeah. I think everyone in Dallas saw it.”

“They called me an alien. I should sue.”

He uttered a short, booming laugh. “On what grounds?”

“I’m sure my attorney could think of something.” My head lolled back on the pillow rest. “I’m surprised no one was waiting outside my apartment, snapping pictures of us as we walked out.”

“They were.”

I jerked upright and stared wide-eyed at him. “What!”

“There was a woman behind the bushes. She had a camera aimed right at us.”

“And you didn’t say anything? Argh. I can’t believe this.” I slapped his thigh. “You better do something. Pay her to give you the film or threaten to get her fired. Just do something. Anything! I do not need another hideous picture of me circulating. The last one nearly killed my mother.”

Royce wrapped his fingers around mine and leaned toward me, bringing with him that delicious sandalwood scent. “I’ll take care of it, okay?” He kissed my temple before settling back in his seat. “No worries.” He didn’t release my hand.

That single kiss affected me deeply and unequivocally, but the fact that he kept our fingers linked meant more. I yearned to melt into him, to absorb his strength, his complete ease with our being together. But I remained where I was. I would not rely on a man for anything. Especially not comfort. That’s where dependency began. I didn’t allow myself to consider the fact that I was relying on him to fix the little unwanted photographer problem.

“Thank you,” I said stiffly.

“You’re very welcome,” he replied, using the same
rigid tone. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you want to look around this salon.”

I shrugged. “I want to see what type of services they offer.” It was the truth. I didn’t tell him that I also wanted to speak with the employees and find out if Nora had visited.

“Why?” he persisted.

Ignoring his question, I shifted and faced the opposite window. Trees and cars whizzed past. The people in those cars strained, trying to see inside the limo, but the darkened windows blocked us from view. “Do you think you could get me a list of their employees?” If Nora
wasn’t
the other woman, that employee list would give me somewhere else to look.

“Absolutely,” Royce said. “Just tell me why you want it.”

“Well,” I said, turning to him, a lie forming in my mind, “my mother is a twin, and they were separated at birth. She’s been searching for her sister all her life and I suspect one of the employees is that twin. And now, with my mother dying of cancer—” I pretended to wipe away a tear “—I want to give her this gift.”

“How tragic,” Royce said dryly. “Did you know your voice creeps higher when you’re lying?”

Damn it, my mom had warned me about that betraying fact. I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned.

“Maybe a better gift for your
dying
mother would be grandchildren,” he suggested.

My lashes sprang up and I was given a full-on view of his amusement. “You are so not funny.” But I was
covered in a cold sweat by the time the limo stopped in front of a white stucco building.

“We’re here.” Royce didn’t wait for the driver, but opened the door himself and emerged. He held out a hand for me.

The dry heat clamped tight fists around me as I stepped out.

“Do we need to be incognito here?” he asked. When my brow crinkled in confusion, he added, “Before we left your apartment, you asked me if I knew how to be sneaky.”

Oh, yeah. “I don’t want them to know my name, but they can know yours.”

He nodded. “Let me do the talking.”

We entered side by side. A long desk loomed in front, manned by several young, attractive women. Too young for Johnnie, that was for sure. While he might be willing to destroy his marriage, I didn’t think he’d be willing to destroy his practice for an underage hottie.

But what did I truly know about men?

“How can we help you?” the only blonde asked.

“I’m Royce Powell, and I need to speak with the owner.” He voice reeked of suave authority. “My fiancée isn’t sure which salon she wants to use the day of our wedding. I’m here to see what type of services can be provided so my little sugar bottoms feels extra special that day.”