Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You (v1.2) (13 page)

Quinn looked up at her smiling face, the delight in her eyes. Miss Main Line Philadelphia, ecstatic because she knocked down a few bowling pins.

“Wonderful, Shelley,” he said, standing up and holding out his arms. “That deserves a hug.”

“Yes. Yes, it does, doesn’tit?” she answered, and stepped forward into his arms.

Behind them, Brandy and Gary exchanged high-fives.

Quinn was up early the next morning, wincing only slightly as he rolled out of bed, his “bowling muscles” aching in protest.

What a night!
They’d bowled three games, with Shelby low scorer, but more than happy with her final game of eighty-seven. It didn’t take a lot to satisfy the woman. She was just so damn thrilled with everything, like a child set loose in Santa’s workshop or something.

It was strange. Here was a woman who traveled to Rome on a whim, who could buy and sell half of the people in Philadelphia . She was used to the best of everything, having the world placed into her hands whenever she wanted it there. And there she was last night, glowing after Tony’s small compliment, jumping up and down, clapping her hands when she finally made a spare, and downing her strawberry Italian ice after the match with all the enjoyment others would show for the finest caviar.

Simple pleasures. She was awash in simple pleasures after a lifetime of indulging in the most major of them.

He’d have to watch himself, remember that this was all a game to Shelby Taite, that she knew she could do an E.T. and phone home at any time, go back to her well-cushioned life. How badly did she worry about her lack of money, her job, when she knew that?

And how long would she be amused by these simple pleasures? How long before she missed the country club and breakfast in bed and dancing until dawn with the rich, handsome fiance she had left behind?

Who was the real Shelby Taite? The rich socialite, or the eager, happy, actually giggling girl who had thrown herself into his arms last night, hugging him because she’d knocked down a few bowling pins?

And how well could he guard his heart when she had fit into his arms so well, so naturally?

He didn’t know. But he was damn well going to find out.

Quinn showered quickly, while there was still enough hot water—he’d learned his lesson on that one the previous evening while everyone else in the building must have been using water at the same time—and dressed in his usual black over black.

He brewed coffee in the small, automatic coffeemaker that came with his furnished apartment, knowing it couldn’t hold a candle to Tony’s special blend. But Tony’s wasn’t on the menu this morning.

Philadelphia was on the menu. Philadelphia and Somerton Taite. He’d promised a personal report today, and figured to get it out of the way before he faced Shelby again, looked into her trusting brown eyes, and remembered what a bastard he was.

Ninety minutes later he was ushered into the drawing room of the Taite mansion. Somerton stood near the mantel. Jeremy Rifkin, clad in a striped bathrobe, sat with his legs crossed at the knee, sipping tea, his pinkie raised toward the chandelier. And Uncle Alfred, looking very dapper in red-and-green-plaid slacks and a white pullover, stood behind the decanters on the drinks table, frowning into the empty ice bucket.

“Delaney,” Somerton said, stepping forward, his right hand out. “You made good time. We didn’t really expect you for another half hour. Parker, I’m afraid, has been detained.”

“Now there’s a disappointment,” Quinn said, and smiled as he heard Uncle Alfred’s short, sharp bark of laughter.

“I like this boy, Somerton,” Uncle Alfred said, having contented himself with slipping a litde vodka into his glass of orange juice. “Pity he’s working for us. Shelby could do with a little fun.”

Quinn’s head shot around sharply as he looked into Uncle Alfred’s merry eyes. What did the man mean by that? What did he see? How did he know?

Fortunately nobody really listened to Uncle Alfred, especially Jeremy, who took this opportunity to tug at Somerton’s sleeve, asking him to be a dear and ring for more coffee, as they had guests.

Quinn had time to recover as the butler brought a fresh coffeepot into the room, assuming his stance in front of the fireplace now that Somerton was sitting beside Jeremy, spreading a linen napkin across the man’s knees.

“I’ve come to report on your sister, of course,” he began quickly, taking out his notebook but not bothering to open it. “The subject, Shelby Taite—”

“We know who she is, boy,” Uncle Alfred interrupted. “So why don’t you just do this one in English, without all that ‘subject’ and other ridiculousness?”

“Yes, sir,” Quinn said, wanting to get this interview over as quickly as possible. “Mr. Taite, your sister has secured an apartment with one Brandy Wasilkowski. A credit check and other background information assure me Ms. Wasilkowski is just what she appears, a young woman of moderate means and with a true concern for those she considers less fortunate than herself. In this case, that would be Miss Taite.”

“Less fortunate than herself? My sister? I don’t understand.”

“No, sir, I didn’t think you would,” Quinn told him, pressing on. “That is, however, how I see the situation. Your sister has been taken in, as it were, by a good Samaritan and is in no danger. She has also procured employment as a hostess in a local restaurant, and is actually doing quite well. I might even say you could be proud of her resourcefulness.”

“She has a
job?
”
Somerton’s watery blue eyes all but popped out of his head before he could control his reaction. “How… how enterprising of her, surely. A hostess, you say? This would be an upscale restaurant, I’m sure? Top of the line?”

“Best restaurant in all of East Wapaneken ,” Quinn declared, tongue very firmly in his cheek, as Tony’s was also the only restaurant in East Wapaneken . “So, all in all, sirs, I’d say Miss Taite is doing very well out in the big bad world on her own. Which is why,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I am here to tender my resignation as Miss Taite’s bodyguard as of this morning. My office will contact you about the final billing.”

“Somerton, I feel faint,” Jeremy said, clutching the man’s forearm.

“Not now, Jeremy,” Somerton admonished him, rising and walking over to stand in front of Quinn, his wet-combed blond hair nearly shivering in his agitation. “Mr. Delaney, I don’t understand. You can’t possibly mean to leave my sister…
out there
by
herself, can you? You’ve seen her. She has no conception of what she’s doing, what she’s opening herself up to, a woman alone in a hostile world.”

“A babe in the woods,” Jeremy added helpfully. “Little Eliza on the ice floe…”

“Yes, Jeremy dear. Thank you, we understand. Now, Mr. Delaney. Surely you can stay with her a while longer, until she has this… this
adventure
out of her system and comes home to us?”

Uncle Alfred, who moved quite sprightly when the spirit moved him, stepped between his nephew and Quinn. “Oh, be quiet, Somerton, and let the boy talk,” he said, looking up at Quinn. “There is more, isn’t there, son?”

Quinn had already known that the old man was sharp. “Yes, sir,” he said, grinning. “There is more. I have no intention of allowing Miss Taite to sink or swim on her own while she’s out having the time of her life, living what she calls ‘real life,’ if we’re all still operating on that assumption. I just can’t ethically accept money for my services.”

Uncle Alfred clapped him on the back, nearly sending him reeling. “Attaboy, son! And let’s hear it for my little Shelby . Quite the woman, isn’t she? Bowled you over, hasn’t she?”

“Bowled me over? Almost, sir,” Quinn told him, once more hiding his tongue in his cheek, watching as Somerton’s expression went from confused, to totally blank, to dawning comprehension.

“You intend to… to
romance
my sister?” he said at last, stepping back a pace. “You do know that she’s engaged to be married, don’t you?”

Quinn’s jaw tightened. “I know she’s in East Wapaneken and Parker Westbrook is here—or, in actual fact,
not
here—more concerned with his business affairs than the whereabouts of his fiancee.”

“Somerton, Somerton! Isn’t this the most delicious news?” Jeremy clapped his hands and hopped to his feet. “It’s like… like Cinderella.” He pulled a face. “Only backward, I think.”

Somerton was back to frowning. “But… but what do I tell Parker?”

“Tell him I’m on the job, because I am,” Quinn told him as he looked at Somerton levelly. “But if you love your sister at all, don’t tell him where she is. I promise you, she’ll come to no harm, but I think it’s time you all let the girl grow up, make a few of her own decisions.”

“Somerton?” Jeremy said, patting the man’s shoulder. “Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I say there was something
haunted
in Shelby’s eyes these past months? I did, didn’t I? And now she’s off on her own and about to have an adventure. Surely you can’t begrudge her a small adventure?” He shivered delicately. “Although I must say I can’t be happy hearing she has a—horror of horrors—
job.”

Somerton rounded on his companion. “Adventure? Is that how you see it? When this… this
man
has the nerve, the unmitigated
gall,
to stand here and all but announce he’s about to
seduce
my sister?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Uncle Alfred said, lifting the orange juice to his mouth as he winked at Quinn. “Best thing that could happen to her, in my opinion.”

“I didn’t
ask
for your opinion, Uncle Alfred,” Somerton spit at him. He pressed a hand to his head and began to pace. “I have to think.”

“You do that, Mr. Taite,” Quinn told him, replacing his coffee cup on the silver tray. “But while you’re thinking, think about your sister and what she wants, why she left.”

“She… she doesn’t love him?” Jeremy, always the romantic, questioned, collapsing onto the couch. “That’s it, of course. What have we done, blithely going on and on about the wedding, when she doesn’t love him? Oh, Somerton, our poor, dear girl. How
dreadful!”

“Bingo, my pretty little man, bingo!” Uncle Alfred congratulated Jeremy. “And damn well about time, too. Or did you two think she’s really run off just to see how the other half lives? She wouldn’t care how the other half lives, Somerton, if she was happy with her own life, now, would she? If I can see that drunk, you certainly should be able to see it sober.”

Somerton stumbled to the couch and sat down beside Jeremy. “I’ve been a fool, such a blind fool! I just thought she was having an adventure,
playing
at life because Uncle Alfred put some silliness in her head. I didn’t think, didn’t see— Parker! You’ve arrived, I see.”

Quinn looked at the man as he strode purposefully into the drawing room, his briefcase clutched in his right hand. He couldn’t leave the damn thing in his car? What the hell was in there that was so damn important? What could—
should
—be more important to him than Shelby ?

“Forgive my tardiness, Somerton, everyone,” he said briskly, helping himself to a cup of coffee. “But now that I’m here, shall we begin?”

“We’re already finished,” Uncle Alfred said, leering at his nephew. “Aren’t we, Somerton?”

Somerton stopped himself, as he’d been biting his nails, something he hadn’t done since childhood. “What? Oh. Oh, yes. We’re done, Parker. Shelby is fine and Mr. Delaney will continue watching her. Isn’t that right, Mr. Delaney?”

“Yes, sir, it is. I’ll be watching her very closely, and promise that she will come to no harm.”

“I’ll hold you to that, son,” Uncle Alfred said, passing by him on the way back to the drinks table for another small splash of vodka. It really wasn’t done, anyway, to drink anything with color in it until at least five o’clock .

Quinn inclined his head to Parker, who was opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “Mr. Westbrook? Good to see you again, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”

“A job? Oh, naughty, naughty!” Jeremy said from his seat, the one he was nearly dancing in at the moment. “Somerton, I believe we’re being decadent. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Parker looked at each man in turn. “What in hell is going on here? That’s it, Delaney? That’s your idea of a report? She’s fine? Is this what Somerton is paying you for? Because, let me tell you, it isn’t enough. Not by a damn lot it isn’t enough! I want particulars. I
demand
particulars.”

“You don’t pay me, Westbrook,” Quinn all but growled, really wishing he could pop the guy one, just on general principles.

“No, he doesn’t,” Jeremy piped up, giggling. “And neither does— Whoops!”

Luckily, Parker Westbrook rarely listened to anything Jeremy, or almost anyone else, ever said, and only went on: “Very well, gentlemen. I see I’ll simply have to hire my own investigators.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Quinn slid in quietly just as Parker stood, clearly intent on making a grand exit. “Miss Taite is having a small vacation from reality—or
in
reality; I’m really not quite sure which it is yet. I’m already one new face on the scene in a very small town. So far I’ve been accepted. But if you were to interfere, if some clumsy investigator were to let it slip that you were watching her, monitoring her? Well, I don’t think you’ll be hearing wedding bells ringing if that happens. And that is what you want, isn’t it, Westbrook? Miss Taite home, and your wedding going off as planned?”

Parker seemed to chew on his tongue for a moment, then nodded shortly. “All right, Delaney. I guess I have no other option than to allow you to continue as Miss Taite’s bodyguard. But I still want her home within the month, sooner if possible, and see no reason for her to stay away any longer. After all, the bloom has to go off the rose quickly when one is living hand-to-mouth, as she most certainly must be doing.”

“She is eating well,” Quinn couldn’t help saying. “I’ll report in person again in a week, gentlemen. Until then I suggest you content yourself with the information that Miss Taite is healthy, well, and seems to have landed on her feet.”

“For now,” Uncle Alfred whispered as Quinn walked by. “And good for you, son. About time one of us Taites had herself a little adventure.”