Wish List (17 page)

It was a kiss unlike anything she’d ever experienced. It spoke of a thousand tomorrows and more beyond that. She felt warm and safe, secure and desired. She was the first to break away, but only that same hairbreadth. She stared into his gray eyes. “What would you say if I said let’s go for it right here?” she asked boldly.

“Ask me.”

“The door isn’t locked.”

“That dog is about the best deterrent I know of. Well?”

Ariel was saved from making a decision when the door opened and Dolly yelled, “We’ve been hijacked again. You have a run in your panty hose, Ariel. I also have a date tonight with that fed. I gave him a piece of my peanut butter pie and he was hooked. Did you hear what I just said? We were hijacked twenty minutes ago. Am I interrupting something?”

“Not so you could tell,” Ariel snapped as she struggled to her feet and smoothed down her skirt.

“Tell me it wasn’t my new horse trailers,” Lex said.

“I wish I could tell you that, but I can’t. It
was
your load. They got it right outside of Ocala, Florida. I’ll make some coffee.”

“Son of a bitch!” Lex seethed. “It’s me those bastards are after.” Ariel and Dolly watched him as he slammed his way through the open doorway. He stiff-armed the front door on a dead run. Both women ran to the window to watch him race to the dispatcher’s office.

“What about our truck?” Ariel demanded.

“They took the whole thing. I heard them talking when I parked my car. I didn’t get all the details. I’d comb my hair before I went out there if I were you. You look . . . like you just . . . well, what you look like is . . . a Cheshire cat. I’m all for mixing pleasure and business. That guy is real nice. I’m babbling, Ariel. The insurance company will start to think about canceling our policy. No one will want to go out without insurance. Whoever is doing this could put you out of business. The criminal justice system works very slowly. Harry told me that. That’s his name, Ariel.”

“How in hell do you steal an eighteen-wheeler in broad daylight on the road? Where’s our driver? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know. I told you everything I know.”

Her hair in wild disarray, Ariel stomped her way through the office, to the staff’s amusement, and out the door and across the truck lot to the dispatcher’s office.

“Your man is okay. According to the troopers, the hijackers set up four roadblocks, a mile apart on each side of the road. The only traffic they let through was your man and then they yanked him out, got in, and drove away. They had traffic backed up for miles. They unloaded the horse trailers, and I assume they put them in another rig. Your truck is totaled. They set it on fire,” Lex said.

“Totaled!” Ariel gasped. “They’ll cancel my insurance.”

“Don’t report it to the insurance company. Not yet. Let’s wait and see what the feds come up with. I think you’re going to have to think about hiring some extra help to ride shotgun, Ariel.”

“What if my drivers walk out?”

“Then you have a problem. Maybe it’s a good idea that Asa is coming here. He might have some idea of how to handle this. I don’t know what else to say. My own insurance company is probably going to cancel me. I’m not blaming you, Ariel; let’s get that straight. Like you, these guys can put me out of business because I depend on Able Body. Even if I took my business somewhere else, they’d come gunning for my loads. This is a goddamn vendetta. I don’t mind telling you I’m pissed.”

“You have every right to be angry. The FBI will, I’m sure, be on top of this. Once the hijackers know they’ve been called in, they’ll back off.”

“They knew that going in. Hijackers are a breed all their own. They don’t think beyond the moment they’re pulling their jobs. That type of person never believes he’ll get caught. I read a profile on hijackers once, written by a behavioral criminologist. Chet Andrews fits the profile perfectly. I’ve got to get back to the ranch. See you later.”

“Okay, Lex. I’m truly sorry this is happening to us. I wish I had never fired him. If I’d waited, used him a little on short runs, this might not have happened.”

“Ariel, this is not your fault. I don’t want you blaming yourself. If it is Andrews, he would never be satisfied with short runs. There’s very little money in short hauls. He’s been planning this for some time. I repeat, Ariel, this is not your fault. The authorities will take care of this. See you later.”

Ariel waved listlessly. She turned to Dolly. “You know, if we were back in Hollywood and this was a script, all I’d have to do is turn the page to find out the solution. I need to ask you something, Dolly. When we were back there, did I ever . . . seem to you like . . . you know . . . like I was living in a fantasy world? Did you ever think I couldn’t distinguish between make-believe and reality? My lifestyle was . . . so very boring. Is that why it was boring, why I couldn’t sustain a relationship? Even now, I find myself thinking in terms of scripts. I weigh it both ways, and I believe I have a handle on things, but do I really? I insulated myself, made friends who lived in the same make-believe world, carried on conversations with people who believed they were characters in whatever movie they were working in. Did that make sense? God, I just don’t believe this is happening to us.”

Dolly put her arms around Ariel’s shoulders. “Ariel, you’re the most together person I know. Yeah, sometimes you were boring, but so is everybody else in the world. It was your choice not to be involved in the Hollywood scene. You contributed, you did more than your share of good deeds. They knew they could count on you because you always came through. You gave more than you ever got. You were a friend to everyone and you never asked for anything in return. If anything, you cared too much. That doesn’t make it wrong. You were so normal it was scary at times. You weren’t a phony like some of the people you were forced to associate with. You always said, underneath they weren’t phony, they were scared. You’re a good person, a good friend, and a wonderful employer. You had everyone’s respect and those friends, the real people, the ones who count, lived in the real world like we did. Stop fretting about reality versus make-believe. So, if this was a script, and you turned the page, whodunit?”

“Chet Andrews, and we both know it. I feel as bad for Lex as I do for myself. He looked so miserable when he left here. It wouldn’t surprise me if he calls when he gets home and cancels our date tonight. I wonder what he’s doing and thinking right now, this very minute.”

What Lex Sanders was doing was grinding his pickup to a stop in the parking lot of his lawyer’s office. At the door he settled his Padres cap more securely on his head, took a deep breath, and opened the door. He ignored the receptionist and marched down the hall to Colin Carpenter’s office. The attorney looked up over his glasses at the unannounced intrusion.

Lex banged his fist on the desk, his face a mask of something the attorney couldn’t define. “I want a divorce!”

“Hell, Lex, I didn’t even know you were married. Maybe we should talk about this before we go filing papers. When in the damn hell did you get married? I’ve known you for twenty years and you’ve been a bachelor all that time. I hate it when my clients withhold information. Tell me about it, Lex. See, I have my pen and my pad, so let’s get on with it.”

Lex removed his cap. “It’s a long story.”

Twenty minutes later he said, “I’ll drop off the marriage certificate tomorrow. I want this quick. If I have to, I can cross the border and get it in a few days. I just want to make sure things are legal. Well, Colin, say something,” Lex snapped.

“I take it there’s someone waiting for your hand. She must be pretty special, Lex. Why didn’t you ever tell me about the name change?”

“She is special, but I can’t . . . won’t . . . until it’s right. Right for me. In here,” he said, thumping his chest, “and up here,” he said, tapping his forehead. As to the name change, what was the point? It was a new life and Mr. Sanders was so good to my family and to me, I didn’t want to . . . hell, I don’t know what I wanted. Don’t for even one minute think I gave up on my heritage or my roots or whatever the hell they’re calling someone’s past these days. I would never deny my blood. I take care of my own.”

“I know that, Lex. I’ll get on this first thing in the morning. One last thing, what are you going to do if this private dick you hired turns up Aggie Bixby?”

“I’m going to tell her I’m divorcing her. Or you can send her a letter. After thirty-four years I don’t think she’s going to mind too much.”

“You did . . . do. What if she’s been looking for you the way you’ve been looking for her? What if she says she doesn’t want a divorce? You’re a wealthy man. What if . . . You need to think in terms of
what if.
You could always call off the detective if you don’t want to know. Your call, Lex.”

“Colin, I honest to God don’t know what I would do if that happened. This is hard for me because I’m a practicing Catholic. So was Aggie. I finally met someone I think I can love. I’m fifty-three years old and I don’t want to get any older without someone at my side. Until I met Ariel I lived in a goddamn vacuum. By my choice, I admit. Now I want out of that vacuum. Do your best. You can call me anytime. And if you ever want to go riding, come out to the ranch.”

“You’ll be hearing from me, Lex. Stop worrying. I’ll handle this myself.”

“Just don’t drag your feet, Colin. I want it over and done with.”

He was a mile from the ranch before it hit him. Jesus. He’d finally gone and done it. He felt a hundred pounds lighter.

Eight

At six o’clock, Ariel stepped from the shower, towel-dried herself, splashed on her favorite gardenia scent, added dusting powder, and then spritzed a matching perfume high in the air. She danced beneath the fine mist, savoring the delicious scent.

Wearing nothing more than powder and perfume, she made her way back to her bedroom where she pawed through her lingerie drawer searching for just the right underwear. Bras, panties, and panty hose sailed in every direction, a lacy bra landing on one of Snookie’s pointed ears. She shrugged it off and watched her mistress’s strange behavior.

Ariel held aloft a bra that was nothing more than intricate lace panels with straps so fragile they looked like cobweb strands. The panties were equally sinful looking. She waved a pair of sheer panty hose under Snookie’s nose. “Yes? No?” Snookie growled. “Guess that means no. I’m of the same opinion. On the other hand, no lady is dressed unless she wears stockings. Thigh-highs should do it.” She rummaged some more and came up with a pair so sheer it looked like she wasn’t wearing any, which she supposed was the object. A silky slip that was so pretty it could have passed for a dress was next. She pranced back to the closet where she wreaked havoc, pulling out first one outfit, then another, tossing the clothing on the bed, on the chairs, on the corners of the bureau. Other ensembles were tossed on the floor. When her ample closet was virtually empty, Ariel picked up mix-and-match outfits from the floor to hold in front of her before the floor-length mirror.

“I think this is it, Snookie,” she said. She pulled a vibrant, electric blue A-line dress over her head. Then she added a single strand of pearls and pearl studs to her ears. Elegant, but not overpowering. She chose shoes and matching purse the color of straw. She spent the last twenty minutes working with her hair. She swirled and teased, combing it out again and again. She piled it high on her head, then she pulled it back into a tight chignon. She still wasn’t satisfied and tried a French braid that did nothing for her outfit. She was still twirling and brushing when the doorbell rang at seven o’clock. Frantic she would be one of those keep-’em-waitin’ females, Ariel pulled her hair back on the sides, stuck in a pair of combs, fluffed her shaggy bangs, and headed for the stairs, Snookie behind her. She was on the third step from the bottom when Dolly opened the door.

My God, he’s handsome, Ariel thought. Wrong. He’s more than handsome. Hollywood would love this guy. He’s got the kind of face that makes love to the camera. “I like a prompt date,” she said.

Lex grinned. “I had my fingers crossed that you weren’t one of those females who keeps a guy twiddling his thumbs while they decide what to wear or not to wear.”

“Not me. I reach in, grab something, and that’s it for the day. Or night. I can’t stand indecision,” she said with a straight face. Behind her back, Dolly rolled her eyes. Neither Lex nor Ariel saw her; they were too busy staring at one another.

“Be home by midnight,” Dolly ordered.

“Yes, Mother.” Ariel grinned. “And you’d better be home before me. What time is Mr. FBI arriving?”

“Any minute now. We aren’t going out, though. We’re going to watch some videos and make popcorn. Saturday we’re going to go out to dinner. He doesn’t have much free time—he works shifts.”

“Does he have a name, Dolly?” Ariel teased.

Dolly flushed. “His name is Joseph Harry Minton. He told me to call him Harry. He was widowed five years ago. He has a grown son he sees twice a year. No grandchildren. He works, for now, out of San Diego. He could get transferred, but he has enough time in that he can ask to stay or refuse the transfer. He rattled it off the way you used to do when you memorized a script.”

“Guess he did more than check the facts while he was here,” Ariel quipped. “I spent only a few minutes with Agent Navaro, and he seems to think women over fifty are foolish even to think about dating. Did Harry ask you a lot of questions, personal questions?”

Dolly nodded, her eyes puzzled by the question. “So, have a nice evening and I’ll be quiet when I get in.”

Outside in the balmy April evening, Ariel allowed herself to be led to Lex’s Mercedes. “Buy American, huh?”

“I swear to God I would have brought my truck, but I knew you were going to be dressed up and there’s all kinds of junk in it. I bought this when I thought I needed a status symbol. I was wrong. The only time I drive it is when I wear a suit to go to a funeral or a wedding or maybe a christening. I apologize.”

“I accept your apology.”

“My God, what was that? What is that? Get down, Ariel! Jesus, I think someone’s blowing up your house.”

“What?” Ariel screeched. “Snookie! How did you get here?”

“Through the goddamn window, that’s how. I heard the glass break, saw this flash of something hurtling through the air, and thought . . . hell, I don’t know what I thought. That damn dog went right through your front window. I call that devotion.” He threw back his head and roared with laughter when he saw Ariel sitting cross-legged in the middle of the driveway with Snookie in her lap.

“Ariel, Ariel, I couldn’t stop her,” Dolly yelled. “She backed up to the dining room and ran like a bat out of hell. I knew she was going to do it the minute she started to run. Good thing the drapes were closed. Is she all right? Is she bleeding? She thought you were leaving her. That’s what she thought. Dogs are smart. You always take her with you. This is the first time you left her behind. I’ll ask Harry if he’ll help me board up the window when he gets here.”

“I’ll help him,” Lex volunteered. “Call the trucking company and have someone bring over a piece of plywood. Thank God your alarm system wasn’t on. You won’t be able to turn it on until the window is fixed. Why don’t we forget about dinner and order in some pizza? If Dolly and Harry don’t mind, we can all watch the videos and Snookie will be happy. You’re sure she’s okay, Ariel?”

“She’s got a few nicks here and there, a few traces of blood. I think she scared herself. Look how quiet she is. She’s shaking, though.”

“I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. It must have something to do with her early training at the school for the blind. They’re taught not to leave their masters.” He yanked at his tie, loosened it, and then pulled it over his head. It went in the back seat of the car along with his jacket. The moment he finished rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, he reached down and pulled Ariel to her feet.

None the worse for her aerial feat, Snookie trotted between Ariel and Lex, who muttered something about Snookie not liking anyone getting too close to her owner. Ariel grinned in the darkness.

The pepperoni pizza was delicious, all four pies of it; the videos of Steven Seagal trouncing the bad guys were enjoyed by the men, tolerated by the women. Snookie, her belly full of filched pepperoni, slept through the evening once her cuts and scrapes were tended to. Munching on the pizza and swilling cold beer, Harry proved to be more than entertaining, pointing out Seagal’s blunders—things he said the FBI would never allow to happen, at which point he went into great detail about some of his toughest cases and how brain-power won over muscle-power ten to one. “Reality is a lot different from fiction. Isn’t that right, Miss Hart?

“Absolutely.” Ariel thought about her lacy underwear and the wicked scenario she’d fantasized earlier. She sighed mightily in disappointment. Lex took the sigh as a sign that Ariel was tired. He was on his feet a moment later, his face a mask of disappointment.

“I’ve got to be going myself,” Harry said. “I’ll see you Saturday night, Dolly.” He shook hands at the door with everyone, including Dolly.

Lex did the same thing. He winked at Ariel and said, sotto voce, “If it’s good enough for the FBI, it’s good enough for me.” The wicked gleam in his eye turned Ariel’s stomach to mush.

“I don’t believe this!” she hissed when the door closed. In the blink of an eye, she had the zipper down on the back of her dress. She stepped out of it. “I wore this . . . this . . . and I practically drowned myself in that expensive perfume, and the guy shakes my hand. Did you see that look on his face—in his eyes, actually? All right, so I’m horny. I admit it. What’s that I see on your face? Don’t tell me it’s lust, Dolly! And to top it off, my goddamn dog goes through my front window. How am I supposed to go to bed with a man when my dog won’t let him get near me? Now I ask you!” she said dramatically from the top of the steps. Then she started to laugh and couldn’t stop. She climbed on the bannister, hiked up her slip and slid all the way down to where a giggling Dolly was standing.

“I have to admit, even on my worst date, I never had an evening like this one,” Ariel gasped, tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks. I guess I’m not meant to go to bed with Lex Sanders. He has a great sense of humor, don’t you think? It was nice of him to pay for all those pizzas—of which
your
friend ate three. Not to mention the six beers he guzzled.”

“Harry offered to pay. Lex wouldn’t let him. It was nice of him. How do you think Harry will be in bed, Ariel? He wears boxer shorts. I hate boxer shorts. I like jockeys. I saw the outline on his leg. It makes a mark, you know,” Dolly fretted.

“It’s not like you’re an expert,” Ariel teased. “How long has it been?”

“He said he hasn’t seen anyone romantically since his wife died. For some reason, I don’t believe him. I don’t even think he was ever married. Just things he said. It all sounded . . . rehearsed. Maybe it’s my imagination. He said he threw himself into work. That part didn’t ring true, either. I like him, but there’s something about him that . . . I guess it’s law enforcement . . . that kind of thing.”

“They all say that, especially after a divorce. You’ll be what they call the transitional woman. If you want him, you’ll have to snare him. I would imagine, to answer your question, that he would be the type to be slow and thorough. He’s real good looking. But, now I know this isn’t going to make much sense, but he looks to me, as does Agent Navaro, as though . . . someone spruced them up. I said it wouldn’t make sense. It’s just my opinion. Another thing, do you think agents have a . . . routine? You know, stock phrases, things they say to everyone? I don’t like Navaro’s eyes. At one point I had the feeling he was undressing me with his eyes. Yep, slow and steady. Not too imaginative. If he was married for a long time he’s forgotten what foreplay is, like most men. What do you think about Lex? Let’s have another beer if we’re going to be talking about . . . such serious things.”

“Okay, I’ll fetch it. Cigarettes, too, right?”

“Bring more than one beer—this might take a while. Lots of cigarettes,” Ariel said, snapping the skinny strap of her bra in disgust.

“Gotcha.”

“I think,” Dolly said, brandishing her bottle of Corona aloft, “that men are stupid. They don’t pick up on signals. Take Harry now . . . those boxer shorts are going to be a problem, I can feel it in my bones. I asked him leading questions and either he’s stupid or else I didn’t make myself clear. My feeling is, he’s not into performing. Men think they have to do that, perform. ”What’s your opinion on that, Ariel? I’m about as drunk as you are. Your eyes are crossed—did you know that?”

“Who cares? What was the question? Did you give Snookie some beer? You know the rule, she gets what we get.”

“No, I did not,” Dolly said, enunciating each word carefully. “Somebody has to be sober. What if what’s-his-name comes back and tries to break in?”

“Then Snookie will go after him and hold him at bay. I’ll get my gun and shoot him. How does that sound?”

“Real good if you can see straight enough. I like that slip. Bet you could get away with wearing it as a dress.”

“That’s what I thought. You should see my bra and panties. I had this wonderful fantasy evening planned, and it all fell apart.” Ariel looked at her empty bottle and motioned for Dolly to hand her another. “They look like soldiers all lined up like that. That’s very original, Dolly.”

“Takes practice.” She hiccupped as she flipped open Ariel’s beer. “Your friend, what’s-his-name, sure ordered a lot of beer. I know, he thought he was going to stay all night and then Snookie did her number and it all went down the drain. That’s very funny, Ariel.”

“So funny we’re sitting here in our underwear stinking drunk. That’s not funny, Dolly. Actually,” she said, swigging from the bottle, “it
is
kind of funny. It used to be man and his dog. Now it’s woman and her dog. Shit!”

“Oh, Ariel, I feel so bad for you. Tell me about your fantasy. Can you remember it?” she asked, peering into her beer bottle. “I’m not horny anymore. Are you, Ariel?”

“Nope. What did you ask me again, Dolly?”

“I can’t remember. We drank ten bottles of beer. That’s a lot,” Dolly said stiffly. “Did you hear something?”

“Nope. What was the question?”

“I remember, I asked you about your . . . your . . . think, Ariel. Oooh, look at that lovely smoke ring I just blew.”

“It’s pretty. We should be smoking a joint. When was the last time we did that?”

“When we were thirty years old, maybe twenty-five. Is it important to know exactly when?” Dolly asked fretfully. “I heard something. You better get your gun, Ariel.”

“If you heard something, why isn’t Snookie barking?”

“She’s drunk like we are, that’s why.”

“You got my dog drunk, Dolly! You should be ashamed of yourself. Now who’s going to protect us?”

“You are, with your gun,” Dolly said smartly. “Tell me about your . . . fantasy. That was the question. In detail. Everything.”

“Everything?”

“I already told you about Harry’s boxer shorts so you have to tell me. You said you would. Is it good, Ariel?”

“Oh, yes,” Ariel sighed. “I didn’t even wear panty hose because they’re a pain to get on and more of a pain to get off.” She giggled when she held out a shapely leg to show Dolly her thigh-highs. I’m wearing this scandalous underwear. Paid a fortune for it and never had the right occasion to wear it. This was the occasion and look what happened. I was going to let him take it off.”