Dog Collar Couture (17 page)

Oddly, she never felt lonely when away from Tim. Somehow, even in such an early stage of their relationship, she felt . . . at ease.

Not comfortable, but safe.

At the cafe, Ro held the door open, but having been cooped up all day while lying low from the few reporters still loitering in front of the shop, Lucie needed air.

And a few minutes alone.

Her BFF eyed her. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“I know you. You've got a spooked look. Spill it, Sister.”

Such a gift—mostly—to have a friend who knew her so well. And cared enough to ask what her problem was.

Lucie took two steps, wrapped her arms around Ro and squeezed. “Thank you. But really, I'm good. I've gotten too used to being outside with the dogs every day.”

“Ah. You didn't get that today.”

Lucie backed away and tapped her nose. “You guessed it. I need air and a few minutes by myself. That's all. Get us a table, and I'll wait for Tim.”

Ro grinned. “Okay, but no sneaking off to make out.”

Lucie snorted. “We'll try to control ourselves.”

No promises though.

An empty bench, courtesy of the cafe, sat in front of the building. Lucie plopped onto it, fighting the urge to check her phone. A few minutes of being disconnected might give her a much-needed energy boost.

Hunting down stolen memorabilia could wear a girl down.

She rested her head back against the brick building. The cold from the hard surface traveled into her neck and shoulders. She inhaled, held the breath for a few seconds and let it go again. Her own Lucie version of speed meditating.

“Hey, pretty lady.”

Tim's voice. She opened her eyes to the hunkmeister standing right in front of her, his lovely green eyes sparking and heating her cheeks.

And hello? She hadn't even heard him walk up. He could have been a mugger and here she was zoning out on a city street.

I need sleep.

“Hi.” She rose from the bench, tugged on his suit jacket. “You snuck up on me.”

“You looked peaceful. Sorry if I scared you.”

“You could never scare me. In fact, with you, it's the reverse.”

“And that's a good thing, I hope.”

“Safety is a very good thing. You look like you have something on your mind.”

He made a grunting noise, ran one finger under her chin and kissed her. Soft and long and . . .
oh, my, my, my.

He'd kissed her before, plenty of times, but this one? Total panty dropper. A slow brush of lips that left her more than a little gooey. She snuggled closer, and the heat of his body curved around her.

Safety.

Finally, he pulled back from the kiss. “It occurs to me,” he said, “that you haven't seen where I live.”

This is it.
For weeks she'd been thinking about when he'd finally make his move. When she'd be ready for him to do so.

He'd been upfront about making sure she was over Frankie. When Tim O'Brien took a woman to bed, he didn't want the Ghost of Boyfriends Past in there with them.

Well, she was ready. “In fact, I haven't.”

“It's only three miles from here, would you like to?”

“Now?”

He laughed. “After the meeting.” He leaned in, nuzzled her ear. “I have to warn you, I might get handsy.”

“Wouldn't that be conduct unbecoming an officer?”

“Only if I'm lucky.”

She swatted him on the chest. “That's . . .”

“What?”

A great idea.
As much as she wanted to scold him, why bother? They'd been playing this game, teasing each other with sexual innuendos, for the past two weeks, getting closer and closer to this moment.

She could either think it to death—as she usually did—or let it happen.

“I'd like that,” she said. “I'll text Joey. Tell him to come and get Ro.”

“We could drive her home.”

“Holy crap, Detective, you must really need to get some if you're willing to drive to Franklin and back.”

Tim cracked up, threw his arm over her shoulder and steered her toward the door. “Or maybe it's just the woman. Ever think of that, smartass?”

Again, she smiled up at him. “Coming from you, that's a great compliment.” She dug her phone from her jacket pocket and went to work on texting Joey. “Now, let's get the big man down here so you and I can get busy tonight.”

A
fter dinner
, Lucie checked her texts to see if Joey had responded. He typically responded within minutes, but in the hour they'd been at the cafe, he'd gone radio silent.

Which meant her bookie of a brother must have been glued to a barstool sweating out a close game. And she hated that. As smart as he was—way smarter than her, if she were being honest—he could do so much more with his life. Heck, if he'd leave bookie-ing behind, she'd give him full time at Coco Barknell. He'd supervise the dog walking while she oversaw the accessory line. Crazy as he made her, he was reliable and knew how to take charge of an operation. With him and Ro helping, maybe Coco Barknell could actually grow into that Fortune 500 company she dreamed of.

Tim stood, scooped up the check and walked to the counter to pay while Lucie and Ro made their way outside.

“I like him,” Ro said. “I miss mouthing off to Frankie, but O'Hottie? I think he's good for you.”

Lucie linked her arm through Ro's. “I think so, too. He makes me feel happy and relaxed.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's all good, but I wish you'd have sex with him and give me the details. I just know there's a great body under those suits.”

“Maybe tomorrow I'll give you a little something.”

Ro halted, narrowed her eyes. “Don't tease me.”

Lucie clucked her tongue. “If my brother would text me back and tell me he'll pick you up tonight, you might just get your wish.”

“Stop. It.”

Lucie laughed. Ro. So easy. “He wants me to go home with him after the Cock Head meeting. I texted Joey. He hasn't answered.”

Ro ripped her arm free and dug into her giant purse. “You're going. Believe it.”

On the street, a car cruised by, slowing as it neared, the driver obviously anticipating the score of a parking spot via Lucie and Ro. Lucie waved the driver on.
Sorry, pal.

“The Hawks are on,” Ro said. “But I'll get his attention.” She shot off a text with an evil grin quirking one side of her mouth. “I love doing this to him.”

“Seriously, you two are sick.”

“I know. But it's fun.”

Tim stepped out of the restaurant, his suit coat blowing open as a gust of wind took hold of it. Lucie's gaze landed on the center of his chest, wandered up to where the top button hung open after he'd ditched his tie.

With any luck, in a couple of hours, she'd know what hid under that shirt.

Ro leaned closer, got right up to Lucie's ear. “Now whose the sick one?”

“Oh, just shut it.”

Tim stepped between them, held both arms out. “Ladies, shall we?”

The two of them linked arms with him, and they headed west toward the Java Pit. As they walked, Ro's phone went off, and she pulled her arm free.

Please, let that be Joey.

“Well, well,” she said, “looks like you two lovebirds are in business. Joey will be here in an hour.” She shoved the phone back into her purse and grabbed hold of Tim's arm again. “O'Hottie, you owe me.”

Dear God.

“Fair enough,” Tim said.

Inside the Java Pit, they greeted the cute barista from their previous visit. Knowing the guy probably counted on his tips, Lucie ordered a round of coffees, and they headed upstairs.

“Brace yourself,” she said to Tim, “The lady that ran the meeting the other night wore a replica dress, and it was a sight.”

“I'll say,” Ro added. “Darn it! I forgot my headband.”

“You'll survive. We'll introduce Tim as my boyfriend. If Wendel is here, Ro, you do your thing and get some conversation going. I'll break off and ask him about Bill. See if he knows him.”

Tim stopped in the middle of the staircase. “Are we sure Wendel and Bill aren't partners?”

Ro's eyebrows shot up.

Could that be? No wonder he was the detective.

Lucie cocked her head. “He did tell me he'd load our contact information into the database.”

Someone entered the staircase, their heavy shoes clunking against the creaky wooden steps as they climbed.

Not wanting to be overheard, Lucie jerked her chin to the top of the stairs. “I guess we'll find out.”

As with the other night, Annabelle, once again in the replica Maxmillian dress, greeted them.

She waved at them from her spot near the spiritwear table, once again strewn with postcards, headbands and various other items. She smiled at Tim, then shifted her gaze to Lucie and Ro, narrowing her eyes enough that Lucie figured Annabelle had seen the news. “I have to say, after seeing that news clip of you, I'm surprised to see you two back.”

“Hi, Annabelle,” Lucie said. “I'm sure it was a shock, but I had nothing to do with the theft. Which is why I offered that reward. I'm searching for the real thief. And we're here to see if anyone might have heard anything.”

Beside her, Tim cleared his throat, and she set her hand on his arm. “This is my boyfriend, Tim.”

And, wow, as exciting as it was, the word “boyfriend” coming from her mouth and not followed by the name “Frankie” would take a minute to get used to.

Change. Always hard.

“Hello, Tim,” Annabelle said. “Welcome to the Cock Heads. Please feel free to look over the items on the table. Plenty of information there. And that reminds me.” She picked up a stack of flyers and turned back to the group. “Everyone, make sure you take one of these. It's the schedule of events for the Cock Head Convention. Great lineup this year!”

Tim glanced down at Lucie, raised an eyebrow. Yep, they had a convention.

“Oh, I'll take one.” Ro snatched one from the stack. “I swear, people, if someone doesn't find that dress soon, I may have to get violent.”

“Yow,” Tim said.

“Buckle up, big boy. You haven't seen her in action. Her method acting should win her an Oscar.”

Ro flopped her ginormous purse onto the table and dropped into a chair with a huff. “Please, someone give me good news.”

The bored housewife from the other night sat forward. “Well, I don't know if it's good news or not, but Annabelle is right. The lineup for the convention looks amazing. I heard they're going to have a peacock parade. Right through the hotel ballroom!”

“That's gotta be a health-code violation,” Tim muttered.

Lucie elbowed him, then scanned the two dozen folks in attendance, hoping to find Bill among them. Not that she'd be that lucky, but a girl could dream. She recognized some people from the other night—
hello, Wendel
—but no Bill.

Hey, that was a stretch anyway. She wasn't even sure he'd been here the other night. She certainly didn't remember seeing him.

Besides, the guy would be nuts to show up after their deal had gone bad. Then again, how sane could the man be when making shady deals with Cock Heads?

The upshot tonight was the chair beside Wendel was open. “Okay.” She tugged on Tim's sleeve. “The balding guy is Wendel. I'll grab the open seat next to him, and you pull up a chair. We'll see if he knows anything.”

“Got it.”

“Wendel,” she said, “hi. How are you?”

“Hello, Lucie.” He stood, shook her hand and quickly brought his attention to Tim. “You brought a friend.”

“I did. This is my boyfriend, Tim.”

Second time saying it was much easier. Maybe she needed to practice. Practice, practice, practice.

The two men shook hands, and Tim snagged a chair from one of the open tables.

Lucie hung her purse on the back of her chair and scanned the room. “Wow. It's great to see so many people at the meeting.”

“We usually get a good crowd, but with the convention starting, everyone wants to figure out which panels will be the best.”

“There's a lot to see, huh?”

“You really need to map out a plan for it.”

“I'm telling you,” Ro said from the other side of the table. “The problem with this dress not being found is the black market. If it gets sold there, we'll never see it again.
Ever.
”

The housewife gasped. “But why?”

“Because that's how the black market works. Buyers don't want to get caught with stolen merchandise, so they hide it in a vault. For them it's more about the hunt. Once they get it, they're happy just knowing they have it. They'll grab a glass of wine and go sit in the vault with it. Then—” she swiped her hands together “—the vault is locked again. It's disgusting. And worse, let's put it on the table here, people, if that happens, Lucie might never be cleared.”