Bedroom Eyes (36 page)

The patrolman shook his head.

“Oh, that’s him,” Mrs. Merlin said, spotting the man with bedroom eyes walking toward them on the sidewalk, accompanied by a man in blue jeans and T-shirt. “The one—oh, my, the one with blood on his shirt, that’s Tony Olano.”

Mr. Gotho nodded. “That explains the blood-red flame,” he said, half to himself.

“Oh!” Mrs. Merlin clasped her hand over her mouth. “For a moment there I was glad it was his blood and not Penelope’s or my dear cat’s. That was selfish, in quite the wrong way.”

Mr. Gotho smiled. “I’m sure Olano would have stood in the way of any bullet rather than have one hit Penelope.”

“What sense tells you that?”

“Sense? That’s just from listening to you talk about the two of them.”

Tony had reached the gate.

“Mr. Olano,” Mrs. Merlin said, “we need to speak with you.”

“I told you to leave,” the patrolman said.

“It’s okay,” Tony said. He glanced at them, an expression almost like recognition on his face. “Mrs. Merlin and Mr. Gotho, I presume?”

Mrs. Merlin clapped her hands together. “No wonder Penelope likes you. You’re so smart! Now, where is she? And where’s my cat?”

Mr. Gotho stood watching Tony with an assessing look. Mrs. Merlin realized her mentor was probably reading Tony’s aura, trying to determine whether any damage had been done to him by the spell. He seemed to find none, because his face relaxed and he nodded pleasantly to Tony, then said to them, “I think we should go to Penelope’s home.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Tony said. “Hold down the fort, Roy, till I get back. Hey, first give me your shirt.”

“What?”

“Come on, this one’s a bloody mess. I can’t go looking for my girl like this. You can grab another one from my house, but we’ve got to leave now.”

The other man nodded, though he grumbled as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Mr. Gotho looked at the bandage swathing Tony’s arm. “Why don’t I drive?”

Chapter 25

Penelope woke up unsure of where she was. She blinked her eyes. The altar on the table came into focus. Home, on her own sofa. She patted her arms, marveling that she’d fallen asleep in her suit, still wearing those silly high heels.

She kicked them off, straightened her skirt, and yawned. Pushing her disheveled hair from her face, she rose from the couch and stretched, arms high above her head. She felt as if she’d slept around the clock.

And such dreams she’d had!

Then, as her memory flooded back, she stared suspiciously at the candle altar. “Mrs. Merlin,” she said aloud, “if you’re here, come on out and tell me if what I think happened really happened.”

“Meow-ow-ow!”

The demanding, almost grouchy cry sounded from behind Penelope. She jumped and turned. A large orange cat stood staring at her.

“You’re not Mrs. Merlin.” Feeling more empathetic toward this cat than she’d ever felt toward a feline, Penelope knelt and held out a hand. The cat sniffed the air, then approached with caution.

She stroked him behind his ears, just where she knew it would feel good, then looked at the tag hanging from his purple velvet collar. “Return to Mrs. Merlin,” she read, smiling. Next best thing to finding the mishap-making magician; she had a feeling Mrs. Merlin would soon come looking for her cat.

Remembering the shrimp Tony had given her in the dream in which she had been a cat, Penelope crossed to the kitchen in search of a kitty treat. The cat followed at a safe distance.

The intercom buzzer rang as Penelope dumped some albacore tuna onto a saucer. She carried the saucer to the table, then answered the ring.

Several voices sounded at once, but the only one she heard clearly was Tony’s. With a cry of delight, she pressed the button to let them in.

She’d had the worst dream that someone had shot Tony. Penelope glanced at the cat, happily licking the tuna. But if she hadn’t dreamed transmuting into a cat, then she hadn’t dreamed the gunfire, either!

Penelope opened her door and Mrs. Merlin and Mr. Gotho spilled in. But she had eyes only for the man who walked slowly behind them.

He gave her a crooked smile, one side of his mouth curving slightly higher than the other, and gazed at her with fire in his dark eyes.

She stood gazing at him, suddenly shyer than she’d ever been.

“Penelope, what a beautiful sight,” Tony said, and opened his arms.

Glancing down at her wrinkled suit and her stocking-covered feet, and fingering her messy hair, she wondered how he could describe her as beautiful, but she didn’t quibble.

Instead, she moved into his embrace, as easily as she had when she’d been a cat on four legs, and snuggled against him. Then she realized he wore a bandage around one upper arm. “I didn’t dream that gunfire!”

“Mr. M!” Mrs. Merlin advanced on the orange cat, now sitting next to the altar washing its face. “My baby!” She lifted the cat and cradled it in her arms.

Mr. Gotho walked to the table and examined the altar. Shaking his head, he set about dismantling it.

Penelope led Tony to the couch, insisting he sit down, but not letting go of him. “Now, will someone tell me what happened?”

Mrs. Merlin glanced at her, guilt in her eyes. “Oh, I’m afraid I caused another pickle. And when I tried to fix things, somehow they only got worse.” Her face brightened. “You might say they went from a sweet pickle to a sour one! But Mr. Gotho came to our rescue.” She ruffled her cat’s hair. “Didn’t he, Mr. M? Even though I think he was fairly well put out with me.”

Mr. Gotho piled the pieces from the altar in the duffel bag he’d brought with him. “No problem, Mrs. Merlin,” he said. Smiling at Tony and Penelope, he said, “All’s well that ends well.”

“And was I really a cat?” Penelope knew, even as she asked the question, that she had indeed inhabited that furry orange body.

Tony whispered in her ear, “And what a cat! I loved petting you.”

She blushed.

Mr. Gotho lifted his bag. “Mrs. Merlin, I think we can leave these two alone to finish the explanations.”

“Oh, yes, I can see they’re no longer in need of my help,” she said, throwing a wink at Penelope. As she headed for the door, she said, “Remember, my dear, it’s all right to be selfish.” And to Tony, she said, “Call me when you want that special spell for your friend Squeek.”

He nodded and Mr. Gotho shook his head, apparently in despair at ever changing Mrs. Merlin.

And then the door shut behind them.

Tony shifted so he could look directly into Penelope’s dark blue eyes. He toyed with the silver pendant around her neck, running his finger over the engraved
P
.

“Come here, kitten,” he said. “Time to make you purr.”

Penelope found it almost easier to believe she’d inhabited a cat’s body than it was to believe the man with bedroom eyes was saying those words to her, desire lighting his face. When she hesitated, though, he pulled her to him and feathered a kiss over her lips. Then he raised his head. “But first we have to talk.”

Penelope, lips parted and eyes slightly unfocused, played with the top button of Tony’s shirt. “Talk?” She pouted. “Now?”

He nodded.

“Why is it you’re always doing the right thing by me?”

“Because you’re so important to me,” he said softly. He clasped her hand and stroked her palm. “So, first things first.”

She nodded, running the words “so important” over and over again in her mind. They weren’t “I love you,” but they were certainly significant.

Tony watched her mulling over his words, loving the way she analyzed every word, every gesture. He’d never met a woman like Penelope. Nestled close to him, eyes so alive, face aglow with awakening passion, she smiled up at him and he almost lost his determination to talk first and make love second.

He’d hoped she would say something similar when he’d told her she was important to him, hoped she would somehow reassure him that he wasn’t pursuing her in vain. Because if she didn’t want him as badly as he wanted her, he’d be suffering a worse punishment than a bullet wound.

“You’re looking very serious,” she murmured, tracing a finger over his brow.

He cleared his throat. “That’s because this time I’m going to tell you the truth about me, not a bunch of made-up stories.”

“Like you did in the bookstore?” She trailed her fingertips down his cheek, a feather-light touch that sent hunger for her arcing through his body.

He nodded.

“I bet I know what you’re going to tell me,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” Her touch was driving him nuts.

Gazing into his eyes, she said, “That you’re not an ex-cop.”

His surprise must have shown, because she touched a finger to his heart. “You’re a man of honor.”

He kissed her. “Thank you for your belief in me. I’ve been part of an undercover operation for more than a year, a scheme blown wide open tonight. That is the only reason I pushed you away after we made love. Can you forgive me?”

“Forgiven and forgotten.” She hugged him tightly, jostling his arm, and he grimaced.

“Oh, I’ve hurt you.” Then her eyes gleamed in a way that chased the pain from his body. “Maybe I should kiss it and make you feel all better.”

“Getting braver, or just more used to me?” Tony murmured his question, sighing in pleasure as she did indeed apply the lightest of kisses, starting at his neck and circling his shoulder above the bandage.

Penelope lifted her head. “Mrs. Merlin accused me of having no sense of adventure, so I’ve been working on it ever since she dropped into my life.”

“And coming along nicely, too,” Tony said, stroking her hair and little by little guiding the path of her kisses from his arm to his chest.

She paused. “Did Mrs. Merlin tell you who and what she is?”

He nodded, not wanting her to stop her kisses. Then he reminded himself he was the one who’d first suggested they talk. Wow, this woman really had his world turned upside down. “I saw you put her in your purse in Pottery DeLite and thought you got your jollies shoplifting.”

“Oh!” She paused; she had been blowing breathy kisses between the buttonholes of his, or rather Roy’s, shirt. “I’m surprised you didn’t arrest me.”

“I wanted to”—he grinned and ruffled her hair—”so I could strip-search you.” He unfastened the top button of her jacket. “Nice and slow, just the two of us locked in a cell together.”

“That would have been very improper and terribly illegal,” she said in a prim voice, but her eyes shone naughtily, as if she found the idea exciting. “And I want you to know I’m glad you’re a policeman. It fits you and I know you’d never do anything illegal.”

“Thank you for that.” He kissed her, then undid the second button. “Didn’t Raoul ever do anything improper?”

“Raoul?” Her eyes widened. “You’re not making fun of me, are you?”

“Never,” he said, slipping the third and last button free, revealing the smooth skin and lacy bra.

“As long as we’re sharing secrets,” Penelope said, “there’s something you ought to know about me.”

He smoothed a tendril of hair from her cheeks. “And what’s that, kitten?”

“Well, I. . . um, suffer from a tendency to fall into fantasy spells.”

He grinned. “We can probably use that talent to our advantage.”

Coloring slightly, she said, “And I’m not quite as serious as I appear. For instance. . .” she paused and looked almost defiant, “I might not practice law all my life. I’ve always wanted to become a chef and I’m also writing a cookbook.”

Again he kissed her. “The family will love another chef. You’ll fit right in.”

“Oh, Tony,” she hugged him, and he was grateful she avoided his wound. “You make me feel like everything is possible.”

“Good. You met my Aunt Tootie; she’s nuts for cookbooks.”

“Oh, well, the one I’m trying to write is a little different.”

Tony cupped one of her breasts and teased her nipple through the fabric of her bra. He’d talked about as long as he could stand right now—not that he wasn’t interested, but his body had other thoughts. “How different?”

She started to unbutton his shirt. “It’s called
Love Bites.”

“Yum.” He nibbled on her neck. “Is there anything else you want to tell me that you think will scare me off?”

“I’m an orphan.” She spoke so softly he almost missed her words.

Tony stilled his hand, facing his conscience. He knew who her father was. Should he tell her—burden her with the knowledge that her father walked the wrong side of the law and never intended to claim her? Or should he let sleeping dogs lie? He wished for wisdom he didn’t possess.

Perhaps he’d leave the decision to the fates, and he was glad he did when she said, “And that’s okay with me, but if I ever marry, I want to have lots and lots of children.”

“What do you mean,
if
?” Tony eased her down to his side, and they stretched full-length on the sofa.

She looked at him, uncertainty in her eyes.

“Penelope, my flirting days are over. I want you. I need you.” He took a deep breath, risking the biggest rejection of them all. “Some people would say I’m nuts for saying this when I’ve only just met you, but I love you.”

“Oh, Tony,” she whispered. “I love you, too. You’re my fantasies come to life.”

“If there’s one thing I plan to show you,” he said, pausing to tickle the sensitive lobe of one ear that sent her to trembling and giggling, “it’s just how superior reality can be to fantasy.”

“Mmm,” Penelope murmured, believing that with Tony Olano, such a feat might be possible.

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. He kissed the back of it, then slowly put one of her fingers, then a second, into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around them and at the same time easing them in and out between his lips. His eyes danced suggestively and the combination left her strangely excited.

When he stopped, she wanted him to do it again. “Wow, that was . . .” she searched for the right word and came up with, “yummy.”

He grinned. “Now, did Raoul ever do that?”

Her eyes widened. She shook her head slowly.

By the way he smiled down at her while he tried to work his shirt off, Penelope knew he planned to show her even more delight. She helped him with the shirt, then placed her hand on his belt buckle, knowing she probably looked as shy as she felt.