She nodded. “She’s from Riverside, California, and she used to be a human resources manager for a big factory there. Then she suddenly left that job, moved out of her house, and there’s nothing for two years. Like she disappeared. Then she turned up in Goleta eight months ago as a gift consultant.” She picked up a pencil and tapped it against the soda can. “Could be that she moved in with someone else while she got the cash together to launch her gift consultant business. She could have paid cash and not left a trail.”
“Makes sense,” Wes agreed. “She looks like she comes from money.”
Holly raised her eyebrows. “She does have that look, doesn’t she? Daddy’s princess type?”
“But?”
She got up from her chair and went to the side of her desk to sit on the edge. “Guess I thought she was more the L.A. type than Nora.” She shrugged. “Rodgers might have info on Helene’s missing two years. I’ll try her. But I’m also thinking we should ask around. See if anyone knows. Which brings us back to your plan.”
He liked making her wait. “We have to go in order. What about Jodi and Kelly?”
“They’re at my house. My brother Joe is baby-sitting.” Her smile rolled out wickedly. “You’re paying his hourly bodyguard rate.”
“More cops. I just can’t get away from cops,” he muttered. “And now I’m paying them. Great.”
“You’re welcome.” The gleam in her blue eyes warned him. “You may end up paying my brothers for more work than bodyguarding. If I can’t get the women to tell me what they know, I may send Seth after them. He can charm words off paper. I need to figure out which of the women will be the most susceptible. I suspect Nora is our best bet since she seemed scared, and you had the missed calls from her on your cell, which might mean she was trying to reach out to you.” Her mouth pulled tight. “But Seth can’t let Brad see him.”
Wes was fascinated by the way her mind worked. Devious. But what was Brad’s problem with Seth? “Because?”
The light left her blue eyes. “Seth and Brad had a run-in that left Brad bruised and bleeding.”
Dark suspicions rose. “A little street justice while on the job?”
Her face hardened. “My brother is a good cop. His dispute with Brad was…personal.”
“Personal?” He was instantly swept back in time to his sister showing up at his door with a black eye. Wes would have killed the man who smacked Michelle around to threaten him, except he had no way to find him. After seeing Brad and Holly at the bakery a little while ago, it was clear Brad had deeply hurt her. Had Brad hit her? Instantly he doubted that, but something had happened to get her brother riled up. Wes stood up and closed the distance between them.
She watched him with a guarded look. Wisps of hair fell from her clip, softening the hard look she tried to achieve.
He wanted to push the hair back just to touch her. He kept his hands at his sides and stopped in front of her. “What did Brad do to you?”
She raised both her eyebrows and shrugged. “Old story, sort of the cop version of the hardworking nurse who puts the doctor through school, then the doctor dumps her. I put Brad through law school. Once he got that degree in his hand, he walked. Pathetically clichéd.”
Ouch, but there was something more. Something that haunted her silvery blue eyes, something that cemented that chip on her shoulder. “Your brother went after Brad for that?” It was enough, and he supposed it explained her driving ambition to succeed and make money.
Her eyes slid away from him. “My brothers are interfering, testosterone-driven idiots. What’s your plan for getting us close to Bridget?”
It was the same look in her eyes as when he’d found her scar. Like he’d found her weakness and would…what? Use it against her? He trusted her with his secrets. It bothered him that she didn’t trust him. “I want to talk about you.” He lifted his hand to slide his finger along the chunk of hair that had escaped her clip. “You can trust me, Holly.”
She leaned back. “You’re my client, Brockman. Not my partner. Now either talk business or get out of my way.”
He dropped his hand. “Do you ever get tired of that massive chip on your shoulder?”
She stood up and forced him back a step. “I’m not one of your Barbie girls, Brockman. I’m the PI you hired to find out who is destroying your life. The chip on my shoulder keeps me focused, so either deal with it or get out of my way.”
His mask of anger slipped in incredulousness. “Barbie girls?”
She rolled her eyes. “I saw a picture of your wife on the Internet, and the women you dated before her. Barbie girls. Sticks with boobs. Ornaments for successful men. Professional clothes hangers looking for a man to keep them in clothes. Barbie girls.”
“Barbie girls. Damn.” He’d never thought of the women he’d chosen that way.
Exasperated, she said, “What now?”
Even though she irritated him, he couldn’t help grinning. Holly’s way of looking at the world intrigued him. “Where’d you ever get that term?”
She looked confused. “Uh, I think it was that blog, the O’Man’s blog. But if the shoe fits…”
His grin widened. “I’ve sworn off Barbie girls. They want a man to make them happy. Been there, done that, failed miserably. Now you, you’re a different sort. You don’t need me to be happy. You’re just using me for sex. Right, Hillbaby?”
She looked uncertain for a second, then the steely determination took hold. “Yes. And, as you said, been there, done that, and now we have work to do. Your plan?”
To get her back into bed ASAP. “We’re going to an exclusive engagement party at the Biltmore tomorrow evening. Nora is doing the cakes, Helene is selecting the gifts for the bridal party, and Bridget is the bride’s yoga guru. They’re all guests who will be schmoozing for more business. Want to guess who is the party-slash-wedding planner?”
“Maggie, I know, I ran across the bride and her mother in Maggie’s office.” She shuddered. “The Biltmore in Montecito?” Then she lifted her face to him. “You’re invited?”
He grinned. “Yes. I’m not sure how they’ll feel about having me there now with all the rumors circulating, but they won’t be obvious about it.”
Thin tiny lines formed between her eyes.
“What?”
She sighed. “I can’t think of a better way. I guess we’ll have to go. But I’m not wearing pantyhose.”
Wes did his best not to laugh. “Uh, no one under forty wears pantyhose, Hillbaby.”
“Shut up, book boy.” She turned to walk toward the door and muttered, “What the hell do people wear to engagement parties?” As she paced back toward him, a horrified expression dropped her mouth open.
Her disgruntled expression amused him. “A cocktail dress. You do own one, right?”
“I own a gun.”
“Guns are out of style this year.”
They both turned when the door opened. Wes recognized Holly’s brother ushering in Jodi and Kelly.
“Joe, what’s up?” Holly asked.
“Got called into work,” Joe said. “I tried to call but you’re not answering your cell.” He strolled up to Wes and held out his hand.
As they shook hands, Wes said, “Hi, Joe. Thanks for looking out for my two top employees.”
“No problem.” Joe turned and grinned at the girls. “They like movies so we spent the day kicking back.”
“But now we’re bored.” Jodi crossed her arms over her chest. “Wes, seriously, a bodyguard? You’re worse than my dad.”
Kelly chimed in. “We don’t need a bodyguard. Jodi and I want to go to the movies. It’s Friday night.”
No way. He thought fast, trying to…“I have an idea.” Holly was standing next to him. He’d have to take his chances that she wouldn’t slug him. “Holly needs a new dress. We’re going to an engagement party tomorrow.”
“Shopping? Cool,” Jodi said.
Kelly moved closer to examine Holly. “Maybe some highlights?”
> Holly glared at them. “No. But I will take you guys to the movies.”
Wes was having way too much fun. “But you need a dress, Holly. A cocktail dress. And shoes. Maybe you should get a pedicure.”
She turned and pierced him with her icy blue gaze. “Eat dirt and die, Brockman.”
“Come on, Holly, it’ll be awesome!” Kelly grabbed hold of her arm and tugged her toward the door.
She looked back at Wes. “You are so dead, book boy.”
Joe burst out laughing.
Chapter 11
Wes hadn’t seen Holly since the night before in her office, and he missed her. He’d spent the day working his bookstore, chatting with customers and chasing off the press. A murder, four women, and a lawsuit brought out the vultures.
He knocked on Holly’s door and wondered what she would be wearing. Nothing would surprise him. Knowing Holly, she might just go to the party in jeans.
And she’d still be a knockout. In fact, he’d probably spend the whole night wondering what kind of smokin’ hot underwear she had on.
He pulled his brain out of his pants as he heard the door open. Holly stood in the doorway and she was dressed to kill. Or drive him insane. She wore an ice blue dress that matched her eyes. The halter top hugged her breasts, skimmed the curve of her hips, and stopped midthigh.
From there, it was smooth tanned legs all the way down to silver high heels that revealed naked toes.
Oh God.
He looked up. Her hair hung down in soft curls. “You look…”
She lifted her chin. “Can’t run worth shit in these heels. And I had a hell of a time getting my gun into my purse.”
For the first time, he noticed the silver purse hanging off her shoulder. He grinned at her. “You look beautiful. Can you walk in those heels?”
“I’ll manage.” She stepped out of the house and pulled the door closed. “Once I corner Bridget, and maybe hover around to eavesdrop on the other women, we’re leaving. I’m not standing in these shoes for a minute longer than I have to.”
He took her arm. “I like your shoes.” He had a mental picture of her in the shoes and a thong. Damn, he had to stop thinking about her shoes. And underwear. And body. And her scent—no perfume for her. She smelled like soap and lotion. When they reached his car, he reached past her and opened the door.
“Knock it off, Brockman. I’m not a Barbie girl. I can open my own door.”
“But I want to watch your dress hike up your thighs when you climb in.”
She shoved her elbow into his gut, then she climbed in.
He didn’t care. It was worth it to see the blue material slide up to the top of her thighs. Holly didn’t have skinny stick legs, she had curves…
“Snap out of it.”
He raised his gaze to her and grinned. “Being sexy and beautiful really makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?”
“Bite me.”
Wes drove the twenty minutes or so to the Biltmore Hotel considering her demand. Biting her, licking her…If he didn’t get himself under control, he was going to spend the night hiding his erection.
After he gave his car to the valet, he escorted Holly into the hotel. The Santa Barbara Biltmore was done in the Spanish Colonial style with red tile and beautiful archways practically on the shores of Butterfly Beach. Located in exclusive Montecito, the hotel catered to upscale businesses and the affluent.
Walking in was like going back in time. He could feel himself sliding back into the skin of Nick Mandeville, hot shot sports agent. It was a little nostalgic, a little unsettling. He didn’t want to be that man—not the one who let a man die from steroids. Not the man who put his own sister in danger. But he had loved doing the deals, and the adrenaline high.
“Fancy.”
He looked down at her. “Never been to a Four Seasons?” Wes had stayed at many of them. But when he’d been Nick, he hadn’t ever been to Santa Barbara. That was one of the reasons he’d picked Santa Barbara—when he became Wes he doubted anyone would recognize him. But it was beginning to look like someone had recognized him.
Holly frowned. “No. Why would I?”
Putting his hand on her bare back, he felt her tension. It annoyed him that his self-confident PI let this place intimidate her. She didn’t show it, but he knew. “We’re going to the Loggia Ballroom.” He kept his hand on her back as they went in.
The party was in full swing with at least eighty people there. Holly didn’t react, but he knew she was taking in the large room with crystal chandeliers, a large fireplace, and French doors that led to a patio. A dance floor and band were set up in the middle, and round tables covered with linen cloths and exquisite flower arrangements were scattered around the perimeter. Wait staff milled around with trays of appetizers.
On a dais at the end of the room was the head table for the engaged couple and their family. Below that was the cake table.
The cakes were there, which meant Nora was around somewhere.
“How did Nora manage to do the cake? Doesn’t the Biltmore have a master baker or someone?”
“Pastry chef, and there’s always a way to get what you want. If they’re having everything else catered, the hotel probably allowed it. The bride and groom’s families are both well off.”
“How do you know them?”
“Golf. Let’s go get a drink at the bar.” He led her to one of the two open bars.
“You play golf?”
The horror in her voice caught his attention. “It’s not like kicking babies. Yes, I play golf. A lot of business is done on the golf course. And rich people really like to stay up on the latest trends in books.” He guided her to the front of the line. “What would you like to drink?”
“Coke.”
He handed her the drink and said, “There, I see Bridget. She’s with that balding man next to the dance floor.”
Holly looked that way, then said, “Oh, shit.”
“What?” Wes looked down to see her frowning in the direction of Bridget and her date.
“That’s Phil Shaker.”
He stared at the man. “Tanya’s husband? The one who hired you to prove she was cheating?”
“Pus-sucking little weasel. That’s him. With his hand on the blonde’s ass.” She took a deep breath and started walking toward him. “He won’t get away with this.”
“Holly.” Wes took hold of her elbow. “What are you going to do?”
She turned her frosty blue gaze on him. “Tell him he’s paying Tanya her full share of the prenuptial, that’s what I’m going to do.”
He tried to defuse her agitation with a reasonable suggestion. “Do you think this is the best time to do that? We need to see what we can get Bridget to tell us. Not antagonize her and her date.”
She tilted her head back. “I see, so I should just ignore the fact that I helped that moralizing jackass screw Tanya?”
Her voice rose so he dropped his to get her to calm down. “No, I’m saying that we’ll pick a better time.”
She turned around, clearly ignoring him to march forward on her mission. She took two steps and stopped.
Wes bumped into her back. “What now?” He wanted her to listen to reason.
“Double and triple shit.”
“Hmm, that sounds ominous.” He looked over her head in the direction she indicated. “Uh-oh.”
Tanya Shaker entered the ballroom through the same door they had come through earlier. She wore a black and silver spaghetti-strap T-shirt, a tight black skirt, cowboy boots, and an expression of utter rage that colored her face deep pink. She stood out in the crowd of well-dressed men and women as she stopped and looked around.
“I’ll head her off,” Holly said. “You go warn shit-for-brains Phil.”
She did have a way with words, Wes thought. And she moved fast in those high heels when she wanted to. He turned toward Bridget and Phil and got within five feet of them when he glanced over and saw Holly reach for Tanya’s arm and miss.
Tan
ya had spotted Phil. She fast-walked over and plopped herself in front of Phil. “You two-timing, double-crossing, no-haired, mini-dick weasel! I let you make me feel like a tramp when the truth is that you’re a middle-aged man desperate to get a hard-on!”
Phil blinked like an owl behind his glasses, and rubbed his hand over the four or five hairs left on his head. “Tanya, you’re making a fool of yourself. Show some dignity.”
Her eyes widened to twin disks of brown-eyed fury. “Dignity! You threw me out of my house! Probably so you could screw Barbie Babe over here!”
“Hey!” Bridget said. “Take that back!”
Tanya whirled on Bridget. “You’ll spread your legs for anything with money. Cullen Vail knew it and laughed about it because he did you and he didn’t have money.”
Bridget screeched and threw her drink at Tanya.
Tanya lunged forward, grabbed Bridget’s hair, and both of them slammed to the ground in a tangle of bare legs and foul words.
Wes sighed and started to move forward to separate the women.
Holly beat him to it. She grabbed a pitcher of ice water from a passing waitress and dumped it over the two women. “Get! Up! Now!” She yelled the order like a cop on the street.
Both women sputtered.
Phil reached a hand down. “Bridget, I’m so sorry.”
Tanya scrambled to her feet. “You’re going to be sorry! I’m hiring a lawyer! And I’ll hire my own private investigator!”
Phil turned on her. “You’ll get nothing because you are worth nothing. You worked at a grocery store when I met you.” He grabbed her arm and shook her.
Wes hated men who roughed up women. He took a step, intending to put a stop to it. “That’s—”
But Holly moved in front of him, got into Phil’s face, and said, “Let go of her.”
Phil ignored her to yell at Tanya, “I’m not going to let you ruin me!”
Before Wes could reach out and move Holly aside, she grabbed Phil’s free hand and twisted his thumb back.
“Owww!” He dropped Tanya’s arm and sank to his knees. “You’re hurting me!”
The silence was worse than Phil’s whiny cries. Holly felt the stares of the high society guests in the ballroom of the Biltmore. Guess they weren’t used to a woman in a cocktail dress and high heels dropping a man to his knees. Sighing at the situation, she released her hold on Phil’s thumb and said, “Get up and stop acting like an ass.”
The Sex On Beach Book Club Page 14
