Trace of Fever (14 page)

But in this, she didn’t care.

Staring at that closed door, she muttered, “So Chris knows where Trace is, but he wasn’t going to tell me? What a complete butthead.”

Matt stood his ground. “At the very least we have to do your eyebrows, legs and underarms.”

Incredulous that he hadn’t yet let it go, Priss swiveled around to face Matt.
“I can damn well groom myself.”

Rolling his eyes, Matt put his hands on his hips. “You do not want to be an unrefined girl. And I do not want to do half the job. It makes no sense to be so beautifully polished in parts, but to remain so…bohemian in other ways.”

Mortification tightened her chest. “Come at me with hot wax.” Priss stared right into his eyes, her voice soft,
deadly. “I dare you. Really, I do. Try it, and let’s see what happens.”

His expression looked comical. “You’re
threatening
me?”

“I’m telling you that you’ll be wearing hot wax if you don’t let it go.”

He threw up his arms. “Fine. Be that way. Go about like a troglodyte, like a…an ape. See if I care.”

“Thank you.” Troglodyte? Sheesh. With that settled, Priss’s tension eased enough that she could breathe freely again. She stood, checked her fingernails and her toenails and declared herself dry. “Looks nice,” she said while admiring her hands.

“At least I got something accomplished,” Matt grumbled.

Priss stretched. “Molly, you got any music? It feels dead in here right about now.” And she didn’t want Trace to find her all out of sorts. The guys said to be less obvious, so that’s what she’d try to do.

Molly rushed to a small panel on the wall, relieved no doubt to have something to do. “I can play my favorite tracks on surround sound. It’s in every room. Decadent, huh?”

With a glare at Priss, Matt said, “Nothing but the best for Dare.” He blew Molly a kiss. “And that includes
you,
doll.”

Priss laughed at the veiled insult. “You might as well have said I’m in the category of the worst. But all things considered, I forgive you for the slight.”

Matt made a face. “Oh, wow, I’m so grateful for your benevolence.”

The music started, and it was a song Priss loved. “How long will I have this stuff on my hair?”

“Depends. I’ll check it in twenty.”

Twenty minutes to liven up her disposition. “Do you dance, hairdresser?”

At five feet eleven inches, and with his bleached-blond hair adding an inch more, Matt stared down at her. “Challenging me?”

“Why not? I’ve never had much opportunity to dance, so I’m sure you’re better. But I feel like cutting loose a little, and we’ve got twenty minutes to waste. What do you say?”

For her part, Molly had already set aside her drink. “I’m in!”

So were the dogs. They anxiously awaited direction, ready to leap on anyone who showed interest in the game.

Priss caught Matt’s chin and gave it a squeeze. “Come on, hairdresser. Lose the sour expression. It doesn’t suit you.”

“No.” He still appeared peeved. “It doesn’t.”

“Look at it this way—” she held out a hand “—you can further polish me with a few lessons.”

“You’ve truly never danced?”

There was a lot she’d never done, but once she took care of Murray, that would change. “Only in the privacy of my own room, and even I was appalled at how bad I am.”

His mouth twitched before spreading into a grin. “Oh, okay. But when I’m all done with you, I better see some sincere appreciation for the transformation.”

“Guaranteed.” Especially if he made her stunning, as he’d promised. She couldn’t wait to see Trace’s reaction to that.

Matt took one of Priss’s hands, one of Molly’s, and the next thing she knew, they were all three dancing as the
dogs bounded around them, barking in excitement. Liger watched with little interest.

And Priss had a blast.

T
RACE FOLLOWED BEHIND
Chris as he led the way from his smaller house down closer to the lake, up to Dare’s much larger home. They’d accomplished only a little, but he now knew that Priss’s ID was authentic, and that she lived in Ohio.

“She was seriously ready to blow, Trace. I know pissed when I see it, and that girl was pissed. Big-time.”

Dare flattened his mouth, but couldn’t keep quiet. “You say Matt wanted to wax her?”

“Yeah.” Chris looked back at them. “I think
he
thought he was supposed to…you know…style her
everywhere.
”

Trace locked his teeth together. He did not want to have this discussion again. Not with his friends.

“I don’t blame her for complaining.” Dare frowned at Trace. “Hell of a thing to ask a girl to do, especially in a private home instead of a salon.”

Trace stopped dead in his tracks, fed up, pushed over the edge. “She’s not a girl. She’s a grown woman who put herself in this predicament by plotting against Murray.”

Dare and Chris stopped, too, then turned to face him. They both crossed their arms and waited.

“Mutt and Jeff,” Trace muttered over their belligerent, accusing expressions. “How you two can act so much alike, I don’t understand.”

Chris was the first to drop his arms. “We don’t.” And then, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s deflecting,” Dare told Chris, not changing his
stance one iota. “Guilt is a son-of-a-bitch, and he’s got it in spades.”

Chris cocked a brow. “Because he wanted her waxed?”

“Hell, no, I don’t want that.”

Chris half smiled. “I see.”

“He’s feeling guilty because it was no doubt Murray’s idea to put Priss through this, and Trace agreed to it, even knowing how Priss was going to feel about it.”

“No, I did not,” Trace told him, so tense that his neck ached. “I’d already told Murray…” Shit, he didn’t want to tell them what he’d said to Murray in order to convince him.

Dare looked at him with disgust. “This ought to be good.”

“Well, it’s not.” In fact, it sucked. “Let’s just say I handled it.”

Dare continued to stare at him. “No waxing?”

“No.”

Chris asked, “Does Priss know how you handled it?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you ought to tell her before she murders Matt.”

Trace started on his way again, this time taking the lead. “She’s five-four and weighs less than one-twenty. Matt can handle himself.”

“Says the man with the black eye.”

Rather than throttle Chris, Trace lengthened his stride. Though he’d needed some space from Priss to put things in perspective, he probably shouldn’t have left her alone with the others. Had she grilled them? Had she exposed his undercover stint to Matt?

No, she wouldn’t do that.

And Trace realized that he did trust Priss, at least a little.

She wouldn’t give him away, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t dig for information. Hell, she’d had over an hour to work on them. In the meantime, he’d used the excuse of doing a rudimentary check on her background, and touching base with Jackson, to regain his bearings.

As he neared the back door of the house, Trace’s pulse quickened. Was Priss still fired up? Would he need to console her? Reason with her?

Even after she decked him, he still looked forward to her every reaction—and then he heard the loud music.

And the laughter.

Chris cleared his throat. “Huh. I guess Matt talked her off the ledge.”

Dare said quietly, “Shut up, Chris.”

Trace tuned them out as he stormed up to the glass door and opened it.

While Molly stood off to the side laughing, both dogs bounding around her, Priss snuggled up against Matt and got twirled right off her feet.

She put her head back and laughed aloud. Her hands clung to Matt’s shoulders.

Her pelvis flattened against his.

Long ropes of hair wrapped in silver foil stuck out around her head. She wore a cape and she had cotton wrapped in and around her toes.

For a woman set on murdering her father, she looked mighty happy.

Liger was the only one to notice Trace’s entrance. The big cat jumped down from the windowsill and started his way. Chris and Dare crowded in behind Trace.

And still Trace stood there in the open doorway, frozen with some anomalous, churning emotion.

Yeah, Matt was more than able to handle Priss. The son-of-a-bitch had just picked her up off her feet. Again.

And again, Priss held on to him.

Near his ear, Chris said, “Yeah, uh, this might be a good time to remind you that Matt is gay.”

“Somehow,” Trace told him, “that’s not mattering to me much right now.”

Dare said, “You never know when to quit, do you, Chris?”

As Matt twirled her around, Priss laughed without reserve, and Trace wanted her so damn bad that he couldn’t see straight.

Only when Liger hunkered down in front of him did Trace draw his gaze away from Priss. The cat’s ponderous backside twitched and shifted left and right as he prepared to leap up into Trace’s arms, whether Trace wanted to hold him or not.

But he did. He needed an ally right about now.

Trace opened his arms.

Chris and Dare backed up.

In one agile leap, the cat came up to Trace’s chest, and that finally grabbed Priss’s attention.

Huffing from her exertion, her face flushed and her expression happy, she looked toward the door—and went still.

Dare pushed past Trace and went to the wall unit to turn down the music.

Into the silence, Chris asked, “Everyone having fun?”

“God, Chris,” Dare said. “Trace is going to kill you if you don’t shut up.”

“Really?” Priss struck a pose of annoyance, one hip cocked out, her arms crossed, her chin elevated. “And here Molly and Chris assured Matt that you weren’t the type to cause bodily harm.”

“They must have been jesting.” Trace was well used to Chris’s warped sense of humor, so Chris wasn’t in any
danger. But Matt… Trace zeroed in on him. In a tone more lethal for the quietness of it, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Harmless dancing?” Matt replied in a nervous question, unsure of the right answer.

Priss suddenly stepped in front of Matt, which left Matt bemused. “Don’t act snarky with him, Trace. I asked him to dance with me. We had some time to kill before this crud comes out of my hair. And
you
were nowhere to be found.”

Matt pulled her aside, earning a glare from Trace. He quickly held up his hands, palms out, to prove he wasn’t touching her. “Speaking of time, we can go wash your hair right now, if everyone will just excuse us.”

“I need a minute with Priss first.” Trace eyed her militant stance, and had to fight a smile. She had a backbone of steel. He liked that. “Alone.”

“Only a minute,” Matt admonished. “Any longer, and her hair could be ruined.”

Trace looked around the room at their audience.

“Yeah, right.” Chris opened the back door with a flourish. “Privacy beckons from beyond. Knock yourself out.”

Patience personified, Trace watched Priss as she tried to think of some reason to refuse. In the end, she stormed past him, the dogs hot on her heels. With a salute to the others, he carried out the cat and closed the door behind them.

The dogs continued on down the hill, all the way to the lake. Tai waded in and lapped at the water. Sargie sprawled out on the sun-warmed grass and watched her.

Arms folded, foil glinting in the sunshine, Priss stared after them. Silence reigned for half a minute, then she said, “Heck of a shiner you’ve got there.”

Again his mouth quirked with a grin. “It’ll probably look worse in a few more hours.” One thing about Priss, she would always amuse him. “You took me by surprise so it was a direct shot.”

Subdued, she hung her head. “Pure reaction to realizing I’d been drugged. Sorry.”

Pure reaction? Meaning she was trained enough to react by instinct? Every hour he learned something new about her. If she was trained, that would be a good thing. Not that she could possibly have enough instruction to deflect the likes of Murray. “I’m fine, Priss. Don’t worry about it.”

“I won’t.” She took a few steps away and peered off at the lake. “It’s beautiful here.”

“You should see it early in the morning.” Trace set Liger on a settee and moved up behind Priss. He wanted to touch her. Hell, he wanted to consume her. “The fog rises off the lake, the leaves rustle, fish jump and birds sing. You see the blinding sunrise across the surface of the lake. It’s really something.”

“Does anyone swim in there?”

“Everyone does.” Without thinking, he added, “I can bring you back sometime when we’re not so pressed for—” Trace caught himself before finishing that awesome thought. Pressed for time or not, the odds of him ever returning here with Priss were slim to none.

Gaze cynical, Priss looked at him over her shoulder. “Yeah, right. Maybe we’ll do that.” She turned to face him. “Sometime when we’re not at odds, when we’re not dealing with a madman who enjoys selling women, when you haven’t just drugged me earlier in the day?”

Trace rubbed the back of his neck. “All of the above.”

“You know, something just occurred to me.” She stared at his swelling eye before shaking her head. “We’ll be leaving here soon.”

“Yes.” The sooner the better. He didn’t dare risk getting to Murray late. And before that, he had to ensure Priss’s safety. Jackson could keep an eye on things, but damn it, he hated relegating responsibility. Not that anyone, least of all Priss, expected him to take on that task. But he wanted to.

He insisted on it.

“Do you plan to drug me for the return trip, too? Because I have to tell you, no way in hell will I willingly ingest anything from you or your friends.”

He’d been wondering about that himself. “I hope I won’t have to.”

His answer made her both belligerent and wary. “So tell me, what are my alternatives?”

He reached out a hand, and after a brief hesitation, Priss took it. Her fingers felt small and soft, cool to the touch despite the warmth of the day.

They were not the hands of a killer. They were, however, the hands of a woman feeling desperate rage above all else.

Trace led her to the narrow seat where Liger rested in regal splendor. Squeezing in between cat and woman, Trace seated himself beside her, keeping his hold on her hand.

Matt opened the door. “We seriously need to finish the process with her hair.”

“Two more minutes,” Trace said.

Matt balked over the delay, but finally said, “Fine. Two minutes and no more.” He ducked back inside.

“Oh, wow,” Priss teased. “He really is terrified of you, isn’t he?”

Trace smiled. “It was noble of you to try to shield him earlier.”

“Yeah, well.” She huffed out a breath and looked down at their clasped hands. “You were mean-mugging him, and I wasn’t sure what you might do.”

“And you figured whatever I did, you could stop me even if another man couldn’t?”

Her gaze snapped up to his. “Actually, I figured I was to blame, so why should Matt catch the brunt of your temper?”

Noble. Kind. More and more, Priss appealed to him, not just physically, though God knew that was enough to weaken his knees. But she was protective and bold. And sweet. Sometimes.

“Matt knows I wouldn’t hurt him.” Trace watched her expression. “Not without good reason.”

“I’m dying to hear what you consider a good reason, but first…” She tugged her hand free, settled back and crossed her legs. “What’s the plan? And it better be good, because I won’t be easy to fool again. If you want me out when we leave here, plan on clubbing me over the head, and don’t plan on me making it easy for you.”

Trace kept getting distracted with the glinting foil. He gestured at her head. “It’s difficult to think when you look like this.”

“Try wearing it. Now talk.”

Forever amusing. Her droll humor was nearly as sharp as Chris’s, and that was saying something. “I did a background check on you using your driver’s license.”

Her jaw loosened and her face went blank in surprise. Then she sat forward. “Oh, my God.” She smacked her own forehead. “How did I forget that you still had that?”

“Other things on your mind?” Trace shrugged, unrepentant. “Now I know that at least part of what you told me is true.”

Cautious, Priss watched him. “Which part?”

“You’re from Ohio.”

Her eyes darkened. “What else?”

“I verified your age.”

“And?”

He wasn’t ready to tell her everything he’d learned, not yet. “You do own an adult store. It earns enough to sustain you, but you’re never going to be financially comfortable.”

“My idea of comfort probably differs from yours.”

“Your employee, Gary Deaton, is in his early forties. He has a minor criminal record, and a big-time case for you.”

Her eyes went wider.

“You officially took over running the place about six months ago. Three months ago, it became yours.”
Because her mother had died.
Trace shook his head. He didn’t want to get into a big discussion on her mother, yet. “That’s all.”

Relief washed over her. “That’s all? Good grief, isn’t that enough?”

Not by a long shot. He softened his tone. “What did you think I’d find?”

“Too many things for us to go into now. Matt’s returning. And I really don’t want my hair ruined just because you chose a warped time for deep discussions.” More anxious than not, Priss stood. “One more thing, though.”

Trace stood, too. “Yes?”

Matt opened the door and tapped his foot.

“I don’t give a fig what Murray thinks about it. No one is seeing me naked, not for any reason.”

Trace touched her jaw, smoothed his thumb over her chin. “Not even me?”

On a sigh of pure exasperation, Matt shut the door again.

“Not if you have hot wax with you, no.” Priss met
his gaze without flinching. “Otherwise…I might be willing.”

He tried to hide his surprise—and his pleasure. “Is that right?”

She shrugged. “Let’s just say I understand what motivates you, so I can maybe get beyond it.”