In Deep Shitake (A Humorous Romantic Suspense) (34 page)

The headline grabbed her by the throat:
“Ross Grant Caught in Romantic Tryst With Savannah PI.”
It was written in all capital letters. In smaller print below:
“The wedding is off,’ says his tearful fiancée.”
A photo of Ross bending toward Mo, their lips lightly touching in a kiss, occupied a fourth of the page. It would have been a sweet picture of new love, if it hadn’t been obvious that they were caught coming out of a sleazy motel.

Milton turned to a page with more incriminatingly intimate photos. Mo tried to read the contents of the article.

“Oh I’m sorry, Mo,” Milton said, shoving the mock up paper toward her. “Take it.” He thrust it into her hands. “Your quote is in the fourth paragraph.”

Scanning quickly, Mo spotted it.
“He wouldn’t have made love with me last night if he didn’t suffer from a complete lack of integrity and have morals that couldn’t stand upright under a toadstool,’ said Imogene Tuttle, a PI with Incredible Love Investigations, when asked about Mr. Grant’s engagement.”

Mo scanned further and continued reading. “
According to sources Grant’s fiancée, the beautiful model Heather Davies, is devastated by his behavior and has called off the wedding which was to take place next month. ‘She’s humiliated’ a friend is quoted as saying. Miss Davies could not be reached for comment.”

Ross tore the paper away from her and stared down at it intently. His eyes narrowed and a flush of anger began to creep up his neck and to his cheeks.

“You’re married, aren’t you?” Mo asked Milton.

“Yes, but—”

“Do you want to stay married?”

“Yes. Why do you want to know?” he asked suspiciously.

“No reason, just curious. Just more evidence for my theory that any man, no matter how worm-like, can convince some stupid woman to marry him.”

“Insulting me isn’t going to help your lover.” Milton puffed himself up to full Milton height, and adjusted his heavy glasses.

By now Ross had turned beet-red.

Milton watched him for a moment. The corners of his mouth turned upward in a satisfied, smiling triumph.

“Well,
ta-ta
,” the reporter said with a wave and walked back toward the front door. He opened it. “Oh.” He glanced back. “Don’t forget to call me if you have any more scoops for me, Mo.” With that, he exited.

Through the cacophony of questions from Leo, Miss Kitty and Clarence, Mo took a silent Ross by the arm. She dragged him into the kitchen, pushed him in front of her, and closed the door behind her.

Her knees shook. Mo didn’t know how much longer she could stand upright so she moved to the refrigerator near the entrance. It seemed like the most stable item in the kitchen to lean on.

Ross paced in silence, first toward the sink and then
back
toward the door. At the cabinets again, he pivoted, and strode back to her. He grabbed Mo by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “How could you do it?” he asked.

Was that misery twisting his features? A part of Mo whispered to her that she could still reach him if he cared that much.

“How much money did he pay you? You should have opened it up for bid. I would have paid a lot more to protect my film.” He shouted the words into her face as he clutched Mo’s arms.

The small sting of his fingers reminded Mo of when he’d clutched her to him with passion instead of anger. “Get your hands off me,” she yelled. He wasn’t hurting her, not physically anyway, but she couldn’t bear his touch right now.

Ross seemed startled. He looked at the spot where his right hand gripped her arm, then at his left. He released her. Clenching his fists at his sides, Ross stepped back until he was standing against the counter, as far from Mo as he could get in the small kitchen. Although he had physically released her, his angry eyes continued their penetrating gaze.

”Maybe it wasn’t money. Maybe you’re one of those women who get off on gutting a man. Is that it?” He growled the question out quietly, as if he had to struggle not to shout.

“It fits with what Clarence said. All this drama.” He waved his arms in an expanse. “The car break-in, the so-called conspiracy that we had to investigate, the ransacking of your house. You certainly swept me up in all of it. And it could’ve been you that got me involved with that
Kubikov
chap. Was it all some elaborate scheme to get into my life so that you could trash it?”

“No,” Mo choked out. No witty comeback came to mind for once. No protective one-liner to hide her emotions.

“What was it? Earn a little money and stick it to the guy at the same time? It all makes a bizarre kind of sense.”

“No,” Mo screamed the single word to force him to listen. His words hit her more strongly than any punch could have. She almost doubled over with the force of it.

The swinging door burst inward, slamming against the wall, as Leo barreled in. “Get away from my sister.”

Leo eyed her position, half-crouched near the refrigerator, before he charged toward Ross. Leo grabbed Ross by the throat and pushed him forcefully against the counter and cabinets. He lifted his other hand in a fist, ready to strike.

“Did you hit her, you scumbag?”

“No. Leo. No,” Mo hurried to say as she stepped toward Leo. She plucked at the back of his shirt. “We were just arguing. It was verbal.”

“Are you sure, sis?” Leo didn’t move his eyes—or his fist—away.

Ross glowered at Leo. “Of course I didn’t strike your sister. Let go of me, boy, or you won’t be so lucky.”

“Oh really? I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Celebrity.” Leo eyed Ross with an unwavering challenge.

Mo had never seen her brother this way before, barely containing a large amount of violence. Where had her little brother gone?

“You’re not really a super spy, you just played one in the movies.” Leo growled the words at Ross. “And if you hurt my sister, I’ll make sure you won’t be pretty enough to make another movie for a long time—if ever. You get me?”

Ross twisted away from Leo and threw him back. “Go ahead and try. I’m so bloody angry right now that I’d love to beat someone to a pulp. It may as well be you.”

“Oh yeah?” Leo laughed. “You can try.”

Leo got into Ross’s face and they stood toe-to-toe. Each was in a stance that dared the other to throw the first punch.

 “Knock it off.” Mo touched Leo’s arm. “Just go in the other room, bro. It’s all right.” She pulled Leo toward the door while he continued to glare at Ross over his shoulder. At the doorway, Mo moved around Leo and gave him a push. He stumbled over the threshold into the dining room.

“I’ll be right here,” Leo said, staring past her at Ross with open threats shooting from his eyes.

“Thanks, Leo,” Mo said. Her brother, bless him, didn’t move. He stood rigid outside the room with a belligerent expression, fists clenched. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and then closed the door in his face. Mo turned and leaned back against it.

She inhaled deeply and then breathed out, trying for calm. Ross’s breath was still chugging in angry bursts, his face red.

“Ross, please.” Mo moved to Ross’s side. “I wasn’t the source for that story. Are you kidding? Why would I do that?” She touched his arm tentatively. “We made love. It was real. I wasn’t pulling some kind of con. How can you believe I would do something like that?”

”It’s happened before,” he said as he jerked his arm away from her touch.

“Well, it didn’t happen this time. I wasn’t the source.”

“Come on, Mo. You gave him a quote.”

She knew she had a guilty flush on her cheeks. “Yes, I gave him
a
quote, but that wasn’t it. He ambushed me in the parking lot this morning. He took some words I said and twisted them around. They were taken completely out of context. I was actually talking about something completely different.”

“That’s what they all say. It was taken out of context. They misquoted me.” Ross’s face contorted as he mocked her in an exaggeratedly high, whiny voice.

“They? Who
is
they?”

“Every family member or friend who has leaked a story about me to the tabloids. At least those I found out about and confronted.”

“I can’t help that. Milton did misquote me.” There had to be a way to force him to see the truth. She placed her palms against his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “Never mind the quote. Think logically about the timing for a moment. I can’t have been the source for the story.”

His expression remained frozen and closed.

“Milton got the photo in that article at the motel this morning, right?” Mo asked reasonably.

Ross stood in brooding silence.

“So he had to have gotten the leak telling him we were at the motel last night or early this morning, right?”

Ross gave a reluctant nod.

“That proves I wasn’t the leak that allowed him to take that photo. Think about it, Ross. When would I have called Milton? You were with me all the time from last night until I went into the parking lot this morning after breakfast. Milton was already parked there.”

“You were in the bathroom quite a long while last night.”

“What?” Mo asked incredulously. Her arms fell to her sides and she backed away. He must
want
to believe she’d done it.

“Yes, and I was awakened to you searching through the pockets of my jeans.”

Mo blushed. “That was just to get a piece of paper.

“So you say.” Ross took up Milton's papers from where he’d placed them on the counter, examined them, and then threw them down to the floor. “You and your agency do get quite a prominent mention in the article.”

“That’s it? You think I wanted some kind of publicity? It’s notoriety I don’t need in my line of work. If you would think logically you’d realize that.”

That reasoning seemed to strike a chord with him, so she continued, “And another thing. Why would Milton tell you I was his source if I really was? He was trying to make trouble.”

Ross seemed to be considering her reasoning when Mo’s cell phone trilled.
Son of a biscuit.
Harry was calling. Ross’s eyebrow arched.

“It’s my boss. I’ve got to answer it.”

“Going to arrange your cover story?”

“Oh for the love of crêpe
suzettes
. If that’s what you think, I’ll put it on speaker mode.”

Grumbling, Mo pressed the buttons of her phone. “I can’t talk right now, Harry,” Mo began.

Harriet interrupted. “I just talked to Stewart Milton. I can’t believe that article, honey,” she said. “What did you do? Call him to plant the article yourself?”

Ross’s brows converged angrily.

“Harry—”

“Whatever you did, it was great. It's sure to increase business. You deserve a bonus, Mo. Hell, I might just give you a partnership right now.”

“Harry!”

“What, honey?”

“Mo is trying to tell you that I’m listening to the call,” Ross inserted wryly. “And you’re placing a bit of a damper on her efforts to convince me that she wasn’t the reporter’s source.”

After a few moments, Harry murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault. I’ll talk to you later.” Mo disconnected the call.

“It seems that the publicity was a boom to your business. You’ll be getting a bonus and a partnership,” Ross said snidely.