She's Got the Look

by Leslie Kelly

  “He’s my partner, and I’m leaving,” Dex said, turning on his heel. “Sounds like female stuff, Brian.”

  Her brother ducked his head and smiled. “I can handle names. Just not body parts.”

  “Suit yourself.” But as Dex strode toward the door, he glanced over his shoulder and gave Rosemary a look with which she’d become very familiar. A warning one. “You’ve set the wheels in motion, Rosie. Now let it be. Whatever happens, happens.”

  “Rosie?” Brian said with wide eyes once Dex had left.

  Shooting her brother a glare, Rosemary said, “If you ever tell anyone he calls me that, I’ll…I’ll tell Paige you had a mad crush on her back in high school.”

  Brian paled, his mouth opening then closing. Rosemary immediately regretted teasing him, because he was so ill-equipped to deal with it. “I’m kidding. Your dark secret is safe with me.”

  “Now, tell me about this man. And the list! What is this list?” Deidre asked, gesturing widely with her arms.

  Rosemary didn’t keep secrets from her sister, but the story of the lists they’d made the night before Mel’s wedding was one she hadn’t shared. “It’s that silly list I have on my refrigerator. We all made one the night before Mel’s wedding.”

  “The list with Dex’s name all the way down?” Deidre asked, looking confused.

  Dex. He’d changed her list again. Oh, goodness, she did have a good time with that man’s possessive streak.

  She explained the whole story as quickly as possible, keeping her tone light. But no matter the tone, Brian began to flush, then his eyes grew wide and his earlobes red. “Maybe I should go,” he mumbled, edging toward the arched doorway.

  Ignoring him, Deidre clapped her hands together. “That’s wonderful. I want to make a list.”

  Rosemary lifted a droll brow. “I don’t think Carl would approve. You know, Carl? Your husband.”

  Brian mumbled something else, then turned to leave the room, as if he couldn’t stand hearing any more sex talk from his sisters. But before he could do so, Paige and Tanya burst in. Paige was out of breath, her face bright red. And even tough, implacable Tanya looked upset.

  “What is it?” Rosemary asked, more curious than concerned.

  “You have to hide,” Paige said between choppy breaths. “Because she’s going to kill you.”

  “What?”

  “Though, I guess I should thank you for getting me out of the hot seat for opening my big mouth,” she continued, still gasping a little as she tripped over her words.

  “What are you talking about?” Rosemary asked, instantly stiffening. “Who’s going to kill me?”

  Tanya answered before Paige could, a feat in and of itself. “Breathe, Paige.” Then she stepped closer, her dark brown eyes snapping in righteous anger. “How could you do it? First I hear you sent her out to breakfast with the Time magazine guy who showed up here tonight?”

  “I need a drink,” Paige muttered. She elbowed past Tanya and grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray on the dining-room table. It was half-empty, obviously someone else’s, but Paige hardly seemed to notice as she lifted it to her mouth and drained it. Even Brian paused, cringing as he watched, as did Deidre.

  “You’re toast, Rosemary,” Paige said with a mournful shake of her head when she could speak again. “Deader than a doornail.”

  “You got that right,” Tanya said, for once agreeing with Paige when she usually rolled her eyes at their friend’s antics.

  Rosemary almost stamped her foot out of frustration with these two. She had a feeling that half glass of champagne hadn’t been the first drink Paige had had all evening. “Say it!”

  “They’re here,” Paige said, shaking her head mournfully. “I just saw them. That stiff hair of his is hard to miss.”

  Oh, God. Rosemary’s heart tripped as she grasped what they meant. She’d almost forgotten. They hadn’t responded to the invitations and she’d figured that was for the best. But now…

  Paige continued to shake her head. “Yep, you really did it this time.” She glanced frantically around for another drink and finally stared at the watery remnants of a cocktail in a small, nearly empty tumbler. Deidre deftly grabbed it and moved it out of the way, tsking in disapproval.

  Groaning, Paige dropped into one of the dining-room chairs and put her chin on her fisted hands. “Oh, I hope she doesn’t think we had anything to do with this.”

  “Me, too,” Tanya replied, lowering herself to another chair. “I wouldn’t have come if I’d known you’d invited…them.”

  “Invited who?” Deidre snapped, looking unable to contain herself. “Who’s here?” Her sister did stomp her foot, which made Rosemary glad she hadn’t, because it was terribly silly to watch.

  “Jonathan Rhodes and Drake Manning,” Tanya said in disgust.

  “Yeah,” Paige added, her voice rising in a near wail. “And Mel is going to absolutely go through the roof when she finds out Rosemary arranged for all three of the men on her sexual-fantasy list to be here tonight.”

  AFTER MELODY STUNNED HIM by walking away after their surprising, erotic kiss, Nick remained in the garden for a while. Thinking. Wondering. Reliving.

  Yeah. He definitely relived every moment of their conversation, the way the glitter on her dress had reflected in the moonlight. The reddish sheen of her hair under the flickering glow of the lanterns. The sound of her laughter. Their kiss.

  God, that kiss. That incredible kiss. He’d kissed a lot of women in his life, going way back to seventh grade when Cherry Hilliard had dragged him into the locker room at Joyful Middle School, and showed him that a tongue was good for a lot more than licking ice-cream cones.

  But he’d never shared a kiss that had seemed so…intimate. He’d had sexual encounters that had seemed less erotic.

  One kiss. That’s all it had been. But he had a feeling he was going to remember it for the rest of his life.

  “So why did you walk away?” he wondered aloud as he stood beneath the oak tree for the longest time, watching Melody move through the party. She was so easy to spot in her peacock-blue outfit, which stood out among all the women in their little black cocktail dresses. She mingled and chatted, was air-kissed by a bunch of women and ogled by a bunch of guys.

  That made Nick tense up, which was crazy since he had absolutely no claim on the woman. Except that she’d once wanted him above all men. And despite her claims, he wasn’t ready to let her stop wanting him.

  Finally, about a half hour after she had left him standing alone in the far corner of the yard, Melody worked up the nerve to look at him. She cast a quick glance in his direction, as if making sure he was no longer there. Their eyes met, their stares locking. She went very still, as did he, while they shared a long, revealing moment.

  He knew she’d been pretending not to notice him.

  She knew he hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

  Then someone spoke to her. With a quick shake of her head, she looked away, but not before revealing a flash of something in her face. A hint of regret? A promise that they weren’t done yet? Maybe even a plea to be left alone?

  Well, that was impossible.

  She couldn’t pretend their kiss hadn’t affected her, because they both knew it had. And her protestations about her stupid list meant nothing. The list be damned—they’d met, there was attraction, something was going to happen. The predetermined plan she’d laughingly made up with her girlfriends had nothing to do with them from here on out.

  The list hadn’t made her look at him with those dreamy eyes, hadn’t made her whimper and sigh when their lips had touched. Hadn’t made her tilt her head and open her mouth wider, meeting every thrust of his tongue with a languorous one of her own.

  Now this was just about them, Nick and Melody, who’d kissed in the moonlight.

  Realizing he was going to start looking like some kind of voyeur if he kept standing here watching from the shadows, he returned to the party. Melody had disappeared, as had Dex, which wa
s probably for the best. He probably should get out of here. Common sense told him to wait a day or two for Melody Tanner to get her head together—to stop pretending she could control what her body wanted by saying so with her mouth.

  Then they could start over. Hell, maybe he’d even risk swimming in the dating waters again. Because spending an evening with her over a leisurely dinner sounded really good to him.

  Looking for Dex and Rosemary so he could say goodbye, he went inside. Rosemary’s home was amazing—the kind of place often used as a B and B or a tourist attraction. He didn’t know how her father had made his money, but he knew he had enough to give this house to his younger daughter. Rosemary lived here alone, since Deidre was married and Brian lived in an apartment building he managed for his stepfather.

  The place was enormous, yet he doubted there was room for Dex here. Dex didn’t fit. Sooner or later, he was going to realize that. Or Rosemary would. Nick didn’t want to think about what was going to happen to his friend on that day.

  Hearing voices in the dining room, he headed there. He’d reached the arched doorway when he heard Melody’s blabbermouth, curly-haired friend say something that made him shake. The blood began to roar in his head and he stalked into the room. “You’re telling me there are other men from that goddamned list here tonight? And that you ambushed her?”

  Rosemary’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t say a word. Neither could any of the other people in the room—not even Paige, who he’d figured was never lost for words.

  “How the hell could you do that to her? Again?”

  Rosemary tilted her head up. “I want her to be happy. She needs to take her life back.”

  “What she needs,” he said harshly, “are friends she can trust.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, needing to find Melody before she came face-to-face with one of the men Paige had mentioned. He looked for the slimy guy from Channel 9 who’d been involved in a domestic dispute with his outraged and violent wife last year. And for the lawyer, Jonathan Rhodes, who Nick personally loathed after a few run-ins in court.

  He didn’t allow himself to think about Melody having once desired the two men. His brain couldn’t even fathom being put in the same category as them, considering they were both scumbags, as far as he was concerned.

  Figuring Mel would be upset, and thankful her bright dress would make her easy to find, he walked out to the veranda searching for a crying redhead in peacock-blue. And there he spotted her. Smiling. Laughing. Looking comfortable and relaxed with a small group of people by the railing.

  She obviously hadn’t bumped into one of her list guys. Yet.

  As he approached her, Nick looked for signs of stress—a gleam of moisture in her eyes that would tell him she was putting on a front. But he saw nothing, not even a stiffness in her beautiful shoulders that said she was uncomfortable.

  It wasn’t until he got to within three feet of her that Nick realized who she was talking to. The two men had been indistinguishable in their dark suits, as was the other woman, who had her back to him. But when he heard the woman in the black dress laugh, he stiffened. There was no mistaking that laugh, or the hardened voice that went with it.

  It was Angie Jacobs, the reporter he’d come close to hooking up with six months ago. He groaned inwardly, wondering why the hell the woman was at the party when she’d annoyed Rosemary by dropping the news piece. Then again, knowing Angie, not having an invitation wouldn’t stop her from going somewhere she wanted to go. Even if she had to use deceit to get there.

  That’s how she’d gotten his super to let her into his apartment last spring, where she’d promptly searched for anything she could find on a high-profile case Nick had been working. Then she’d planted herself in his bed, apparently planning to seduce the information out of him. Which had led to their last confrontation and the circus-freak remark.

  So, no, he wasn’t particularly thrilled at the prospect of coming face-to-face with her again.

  But he couldn’t think too much about it. Because he suddenly recognized the two men standing with Angie and Melody. One of them was Angie’s co-worker, looking just as fake and arrogant as he did on TV. The second guy wasn’t hard to recognize either, with his pricey Italian suit and his slimy defense-lawyer smile.

  They were Drake Manning and Jonathan Rhodes.

  And Melody was standing right between them.

  Nick almost turned around. Almost judged by the smile on her face and her relaxed posture that Melody was fine and dandy chatting up the two men to see if she was going to hop into the sack with one of them. Almost walked away thinking maybe she was exactly the kind of woman he’d once feared she was…a taker, someone who wanted a meaningless lay to get her confidence back.

  Then Manning touched her. And Melody flinched.

  She was definitely not all right.

  “Here you are,” he said, striding into the group. “I promised Rosemary I’d bring you in for a toast.”

  A quick, nearly imperceptible look of relief flashed across her face. Then her back straightened. “I was getting to know some more of Rosemary’s guests. Such interesting people in her circle,” Melody murmured, her voice tight.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Detective Walker,” Angie said, her cordial tone countering the malice in her eyes. “You do clean up, don’t you? You almost look like you belong here.”

  Melody’s sharply inhaled breath told him she hadn’t been prepared for Angie. But Nick was used to her. Raking a bored glance over the woman, he said, “Amazing how clothes can make a person look almost human, isn’t it?”

  Drake Manning stiffened and Angie’s eyes blazed. Melody, however, sucked her lips into her mouth, as if she were trying not to laugh. Without another word for any of them, Nick reached out and took hold of Mel’s arm, tugging her with him. “Let’s go.”

  He felt her stiff resistance at first, but she did finally move her feet and follow him. Once they were out of earshot of the others, she yanked her arm away. “You can’t…”

  “I just did, Melody,” he muttered, not in the mood to hear any excuses. Damned if he was going to leave her there with those three—the scummy TV anchor, the scummier defense lawyer and the bitch queen of Savannah.

  Reaching the other end of the veranda, he tried a pair of French doors and found them open. Pushing her inside, he followed her, hoping no one had seen them disappear but not caring too much if they had.

  In the silence, he heard her harsh breaths and wondered if she was about to go apeshit on him for manhandling her out of her own party. Not that he cared. Whether she’d realized it or not, she’d needed rescuing. Maybe even from herself…though he hated to think she’d even consider letting her dumb-ass list allow her to make a colossal mistake with one of those pricks.

  Giving her a chance to cool down, he turned and glanced around the room. They were in Rosemary’s office, where she worked at home doing her real-estate stuff. It was empty, nearly dark, lit only by a small lamp in the corner. Dominated by a large antique desk standing right in the middle of the floor, the room was otherwise relatively sparse. A shelving unit stood along one wall, and two overstuffed leather chairs were opposite the desk.

  He pushed her toward one of the chairs.

  “Would you keep your hands off me?” she snapped.

  “I don’t see you flinching when I touch you the way you did with that Manning guy. What number was he on your list?”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God, Rosemary told you the whole thing?” Looking stunned, she dropped into the chair.

  “Rosemary didn’t tell me. Your friend Paige—”

  “Paige told you that?” She looked truly stunned. “What, is everybody at this party talking about my sex life?”

  “No. She was reaming out Rosemary for inviting the other two and I overheard.” Unable to help it, he frowned. “You sure didn’t have the best taste in men, did you?”

  “Obviously not, since I chose you.”
/>
  She’d just admitted again that she had chosen him—but he didn’t call her on it. “I’ve got to say, you looked pretty calm talking to those two.”

  “I was fine.”

  “Not ready to murder Rosemary this time?”

  She crossed her legs—those endlessly long legs—and leaned back in her chair. “I was…surprised. But not completely shocked. I’d wondered if she’d do it.”

  He’d expected more indignation. More anger. More something. “So, what, you wandered right up to them and engaged them in conversation?” he asked, leaning back until he was half sitting on Rosemary’s big desk.

  “Something like that,” she admitted. “I think the two of them are friends.” Her voice was steady, but the way she shifted her eyes away made him wonder if she was being entirely honest.

  “And there was no embarrassment, like the other morning at the diner.” He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “No concern, nothing?”

  “Nope. They were both friendly, cordial and attractive.”

  He stiffened, wondering why she’d gotten so damned chummy with the other two men so fast.

  “Now, if we’ve finished the inquisition, Mr. Big Bad Policeman, can I get back to my party?”

  Rising, he stepped closer. “Anxious to get back to scoping out the two other guys on your list, huh?”

  “Maybe,” she retorted, her cheeks reddening. “If I am, it’s certainly none of your business.”

  She was definitely holding back. There was something she did not want him to see. It amazed him, really, how quickly he’d become familiar with her moods. The rapid pulse in her temple told him she was being evasive and the way she shifted her startling blue eyes away reinforced that certainty.

  Keeping his voice deceptively quiet, he asked, “So which one’s in the lead so far? I mean, for the list thing.”

  “Would you shut the hell up about my list?” She rose to her feet.

  Hot button. “Touchy, touchy.” He stepped closer, and so did she. “You are mighty sensitive about it, aren’t you? Thought you were relaxed and calm about meeting those two.”