Together Again: Book 3 in the Second Chances series (Crimson Romance) (12 page)

“I think you should listen to his advice. What do you say, lunch tomorrow?”

She glanced around and waved to Tony before she responded. “I rarely have lunch out, Paul. But if you want an appointment, call the office and I’ll see what we can set up.”

Dreier gripped her elbow to keep her from leaving. “Margo, I’m serious. My client is very well informed and listening to what he has to say could save you a great deal of trouble.”

Before she could respond, Tony rescued her. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m hungry and jet-lagged.”

Margo shook free of Paul’s grip. “If you need to talk to me and can’t make an appointment, just come into the office and if I’m free, I’d be happy to continue our conversation.”

Before they left, Margo looked one more time at the piece of Amanda’s work she’d fallen in love with, the piece that now had a red dot on the display tag, indicating it was sold. Tony got a kiss from Liz. Fiona extracted a promise from Margo to have lunch so they could “talk” and Greer gave Tony a particularly long handshake and said she’d look forward to seeing him again soon. Amanda couldn’t leave the reception yet, so Tony and Margo were on their own for dinner.

Waiting for the light to change so they could cross the street, Tony said, “Tell me about Dreier. He’s the only one I didn’t get a chance to talk to.”

“He’s so … I don’t know … snake-oil salesman, I guess. The kind of lawyer who gives lawyers a bad name. He represents business clients all up and down the West Coast, Seattle to LA with two or three things in common — shady business ethics, a lot of money, and overseas factories for most of them. I sure wouldn’t want his practice. Although he does enjoy the perks — Armani suits, a huge penthouse condo somewhere around here, a new luxury car every year.”

“Do you have to deal with him often?”

She slipped her arm through his as they crossed the street. “Hardly ever. He’s retained to keep his clients out of trouble with us. But he hangs around the office a lot. I think he uses it as a place to pick up women.”

“I take it you’re not one of them.”

“Good God, no. But, speaking of hitting on people, why did Liz take you off like that?”

“Asking questions about us. She didn’t get too far. This big guy came in. White hair, but looks too young to have it. Colin maybe? Whoever he is, as soon as he walked in, he kissed her and she lost interest in me.”

“Ah, you met Collins. He’s a metal sculptor. Been one of Liz’s artists since she opened her first gallery. They’ve had a relationship since then, too. They own a house together here but he has his studio in Eastern Oregon. Comes to town every couple of weeks. And, you’re right, when they see each other, the rest of the world disappears. But once he leaves town, she’ll be calling me and asking questions. Hell, first I had Beth, Danny and Greer asking questions, then Kiki, now Liz. You sure do stir up interest from my women friends, Alessandro.”

“You’re quiet. Something wrong?” Finished with his hamburger and every single French fry he’d been served, even the tiny bits of overcooked ones, Tony glanced covetously across the table at what was left on Margo’s plate. They’d had to wait for a table at the popular Deschutes Brewpub and during the wait she swore he’d moved from hungry to ravenous.

“It’s noisy in here and I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” She pushed her plate with the half-eaten burger and fries across to him. “You must be tired, too. It’s been an even longer day for you.”

He cleaned up her leftover fries, then seemed to realize she was playing with her glass of beer as a way of avoiding his eyes. His head tilted, he frowned at her. “It’s more than being tired. You’re not happy about something. Is it because I’m here or because I didn’t tell you I was coming to Portland? I could have told you last night on the phone. It just seemed fun to … anyway, I apologize if you didn’t like being surprised.”

“No, I loved the surprise. I’m glad to see you, really.”

“Then what is it? Your body’s here — which I’m enjoying looking at — but I don’t have much of your attention. What’s going on?”

“It’s just that … oh, God, Tony, you know how I am.” She looked up, directly at him. “Ever since I got back from Philly, I’ve been trying to make sense of what happened between us. But I haven’t been able to. And now, before I can get it sorted out, here we are, all coupled up.”

“Meaning … ?”

“Everyone thinks we’re a couple. Our families. All my colleagues. Tonight all those people looking at us like … well, like ‘Oh, aren’t they a cute couple’ … and Kiki and Liz making a fuss over us.”

“And that bothers you because … ?”

“It doesn’t bother me. It worries me. If it doesn’t work out, will I make my mother unhappy, lose your sisters as my friends, piss off your mother, embarrass myself in front of everyone I work with, make my friends feel sorry for me because this gorgeous man dumped me?”

“Jesus, sugar, you worry about things that wouldn’t even occur to anyone else. First of all, why do you think it won’t work out between us?”

“I’m not saying that it won’t. I’m just trying to anticipate what could happen. And even if it does work out, there’s a whole other set of questions. Who’s gonna move where? Will one of us end up with no job? Will I have to sell my house? Will your career be wrecked because that
Inquirer
reporter who knows every organized crime figure in Philly from Angelo Bruno on connects you with my father? How’ll we deal with the long hours we both work?”

“I was wrong. That’s beyond worrying. I don’t even know what to call it. It must be hell inside that head of yours.” He leaned across the table and took her hand. “No wonder you’re so quiet. You’re so busy coming up with all the things that can go wrong, you don’t have any room left in your mind to think of a topic of conversation.”

“It’s not funny. It’s … I don’t know … it’s … I can’t figure it out.”

“I’m not going to joke you out of this, am I? Okay, then I’ll ask a serious question. Would you like to go away by yourself this weekend to work this out? I assume that’s what the solitude in the wilderness is about.”

“I was ready to go away and try to work it through but now that you’re here, all I can think about is being with you.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say since I got here.”

“Besides, didn’t you say we should work this out together? A weekend away, just the two of us, would be a place to start, wouldn’t it?”

“I’d vote for that. But are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes, it’ll be better being with you.”

“Okay then, why don’t we wait until we get back to Portland to tackle all those questions the hamsters are throwing at you?” he suggested. “How about one weekend of enjoying each other before we get too wrapped up in settling all the details of the next couple decades?”

“I think I can ignore my hamsters and their squeaky wheels and stupid questions for a weekend. As long as you can provide a diversion for me.”

“Oh, I think I can manage that.” He motioned to the waiter for the check. “And, just so you know, in answer to one of the questions, Theresa said if I fuck it up, not to bother coming home.” He grinned at her. “She’d rather keep you in the family than me. She also said to remind you what you promised. She wouldn’t tell me any more than that.” He didn’t have to ask the question, his expression did.

“She made me promise I wouldn’t look for all the reasons this wouldn’t work and make them happen, the way I usually do. She said to just let it unfold naturally. As you can tell, I’m struggling with it.”

“Try it for the weekend, you might like it.” He signed the credit card slip. “Can we get out of here? You’re right. I’m beginning to feel the time difference and my four AM wake-up.”

“Yeah, I imagine you are.” She reached across the table, touched his hand. “Do you want to get your suitcase from the hotel where you’ve checked in and stay at my house instead?”

“I can’t do that,” he said, shaking his head.

“Oh, do you want me to stay with you?” He didn’t answer. “Right, you said you were tired. You want to be by yourself tonight. I’ll drop you off. Just tell me where.”

“That won’t work either.”

“I don’t understand.”

He grinned. “I never checked into a hotel. We came straight from the airport to police headquarters.”

“You’ve been waiting for me to ask you to stay with me, haven’t you? And I’ve been slow at doing it.”

“I was hoping you would ask. If you want to … ”

“Where’s your suitcase?”

“At Sam’s desk.”

“So the entire Portland Police Bureau knows, too.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to keep it under wraps. You should have told me.” The grin and affectionate expression had been replaced by tensed shoulders and a thin-lipped mouth.

“No, no, no. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry. That was rude. You have every right to bite my head off.”

He sat back in his chair, his body more relaxed now. “I’m not particularly interested in biting your head off. Nibbling your mouth, yes. Maybe your ears. Definitely your breasts.”

“Tony!”

• • •

Twenty-five minutes after they left the city, Margo drove into a gated parking lot just off the levee along the Columbia River. After she parked, they went down the ramp to the dock and out to one of the smaller homes in the marina, a shake-covered two-story house with large cobalt blue pots of small evergreens and flowers flanking the door.

Once inside, she led him upstairs where she suggested he unpack.

As she moved some of her clothes around in the closet she said, “I have hangers here for your suit and I’ll empty a drawer for you. Oh, and I have to get clean towels. There should be space on the vanity for your … ”

“I’m not here to see your bathroom or inspect your clean towels, Margo.” He came behind her and put his hands on her waist, turning her around.

“I know. You’re here to work, but you were … ”

“No, work got me here but I’m here to see you. We started something when you were in Philly and I don’t want it to slip away.” He kissed her, a Tony kiss, hot, arousing, breathtaking.

“We better get to bed,” she said. “We both have work tomorrow.”

“Bed’s good.” His grin didn’t look like he was thinking much about work.

“Speaking of work … ”

“Were we?”

“I was. How’d you get this assignment, anyway?”

“Fought for it. There was some logic to it — I’ve been working with the task force for a while and had more than a nodding acquaintance with the Jameson case. Told the captain I had connections out here that would be valuable in the investigation.”

“You have a lot on the line, then.”

“Not really. My career, my personal life and maybe national security. Nothing important.”

“Do you ever take anything seriously?”

“Yes. This.” He kissed her again. “That’s about as serious as I want to get right now. What was that about bed?”

“I have to go downstairs and turn the lights out and make sure everything’s locked up. Before I do, can I hang up your suit for you so it doesn’t get wrinkled?”

“That’s not the sexiest invitation I’ve ever had to take my clothes off but, yeah, you can.”

When she woke at her usual 6
A.M.
, Margo found herself spooned against Tony’s back and legs, her arm around him, the sheet barely covering them from their waists down. His chest rose and fell with his breath; his skin warmed her hand where she touched him. She’d never had a man spend the night in this house and she was surprised how happy it made her to find him beside her. It wouldn’t be too difficult to get used to.

Carefully she drew away from him but before she could get far, he grabbed her hand. “Don’t go. I like having you wrapped around me.” He turned and kissed her hand.

“I was just going to put on some coffee.”

In a voice thick with desire, he said, “Later,” and gathered her into his arms.

By the time she’d showered, dressed and gone downstairs, a summer storm had come up and she dodged raindrops retrieving the paper. Back inside, she put coffee on, pulled out a frozen coffee cake and a container of raspberries, seeded and sliced a cantaloupe. From her new iPod Pink Martini’s “Everywhere” started playing as she was getting mugs down prompting her to sing along.

“You’re happy this morning,” Tony said, coming down the steps, dressed for work.

“It’s a beautiful day.” She got plates from the cabinet and silverware from the drawer as she talked.

He stopped her from bustling by taking her in his arms. “It’s raining, Margo.”

“I’ve learned to like rain since I moved to Portland.”

“Ah, that must be it. Couldn’t be anything else, could it?” The timer on the microwave buzzed and she broke free of his arms to take the coffee cake out. “So, no answer to that question. Change the subject. Got it.” He looked around the living room. “I didn’t pay attention to much of your house last night. I like it.”

She kept her eyes on the plate she was putting on the table. “We didn’t spend a whole lot of time downstairs, did we?”

“All I noticed was that it looks like a little house in the woods floating on the water.”

“That’s exactly why I fell in love with it the first time I saw it.”

He scanned the downstairs. A couch covered in a floral print, reading lamps at both ends and soft throws tossed over the back, and two chairs upholstered in a deep red fabric made up the living area. The dining table had four un-matched chairs around it upholstered in the same red as their bigger relatives in the living room. On the walls were hand-woven hangings, on the floor, vivid Persian-style carpets. Floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with books filled one end of the room and a wood-burning, freestanding stove provided warmth when needed in a kitchen that featured open shelves piled with handmade pottery dishes.

“After your calm, uncluttered apartment, this must look like the back room of a Goodwill to you,” she said.

He laughed. “No, it’s comfortable, like a nest. It feels like you belong here.”

“There’s a guest room back there — ” she nodded her head toward a hall near the stairway, “ — and a small guest bath. Upstairs is my office as well as a deck with a view of the river and the interstate bridge.”