Not that he had any intention of buying anything. But she didn’t have to know that.
Will adjusted his strategy. This might work out even better than he thought.
“A friend of mine was in here last week, and he bought this necklace.” Because of course he’d coerced Mason into telling him what was in the bag before he’d handed it over. After all, he needed that information in order to know how to best plan his course of action. “Uh, it has this little teacup and saucer on it. He said it was from a Charleston estate? Nineteenth century, I think.”
“Oh, I remember,” she said, her smile warming up a little. “Lovely piece. I’m afraid it was one of a kind, but if you were looking for something similar, I can show you where we keep the estate jewelry.”
“Do you have any more nineteenth century pieces?” he asked. “I’m interested in the Civil War era in particular.”
“Hmmm, I believe we may have a brooch from that era. Let’s have a look.”
She led Will back to a display case laden with all sorts of fancy baubles, and he made the appropriate show of studying each piece, especially the brooch, which if he were being honest, was one of the clunkiest things he’d ever seen. Why any woman would want that pinned to her person was beyond him.
“Do you have any more masculine pieces?” he asked. “Like pocket watches and such. Or maybe some authentic uniform buttons that could be made into a keepsake sort of thing.”
“Hmm,” she said again, hesitant to say outright that she couldn’t help him. “Not that I can think of offhand. We tend to be geared more toward home interiors, you see, and the accessory pieces such as jewelry are based more on what catches the owner’s eye rather than historical significance.”
“So, you don’t deal in any uniforms or weapons or cartridge boxes or what have you.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. However,” she brightened a little. “If it’s Civil War relics and memorabilia that interests you, there’s a man in Savannah – Tobias Abernathy. He owns a store called Pinch of the Past. He’s pretty much the foremost expert on Civil War era antiques and antiquities in the South.
“That’s fantastic,” Will said, smiling his most charming smile. “Thank you. You’ve been really helpful.”
“My, my,” came a syrupy voice from behind him. “And here I was unaware that Hell had finally frozen.”
Will smiled ruefully at the surprised sales assistant, and then turned around. “Hello, Victoria.”
She nodded toward the jewelry display case. “I would ask if you found something you liked, but I’m afraid we’re all out of chastity belts at the moment.”
The sales assistant made a noise in her throat, then coughed into her hand. “Excuse me,” she said. “I think I’ll just go… water…”
And with that, she fled into the nether regions of the store.
“Tactful as always,” Will said.
“Not that I’m not delighted to see you, Willis, but what are you doing here?”
Since he already had one of his questions answered by Torie’s helpful – and less likely to lie – employee, Will figured he could afford to be a little more straightforward.
“Is there someplace we can talk privately?”
“Why Will.” She fluttered her lashes. “I never thought you’d ask.”
Will followed behind her, keeping his eyes averted from the curvaceous hips she was swaying for his benefit. It still pissed him off that, at one point, he’d envied Harlan for his smoking hot wife.
But then considering that she was one of Satan’s minions, he guessed the heat factor was only to be expected.
She ushered him into her elegant, but business-like office, her smile turning feline when the door closed with an audible click. “Now then.” She offered him a seat, and then crossed to her desk, perched on the edge so that her smooth bare legs were in full view. “What can I… do for you?”
“You can cut the bullshit sex-kitten routine, for one thing.”
“Why Willis.” Her lips pouted, but her eyes lit with amusement. “You wound me.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“What would be the fun in that? Tempting you,” she leaned forward, exposing her cleavage, and bit her bottom lip “is so very, very… entertaining.”
When he didn’t so much as bat an eye by way of reaction, Torie sighed and hopped off the desk.
“Will, Will. Always so difficult.” She strolled toward the minibar in the corner of her office. “But then where are my manners. I should have offered you a beverage. Bottled water? Soda? Or something a little stronger.” She uncapped a decanter of bourbon and poured three fingers into a glass. After taking a sip, she offered it to him.
“It might help you to mellow out.”
Will put a stranglehold on his temper. “Still running the same patterns, are you?”
“I didn’t force Harlan to drink, Will.”
“No, you just didn’t try to stop him. Not once, in five years.”
“You know your brother was self-destructing long before I met him.” She glanced toward the window, a thoughtful tone entering her voice. “He was just… better at covering it up, I guess. I knew he liked to party, but I didn’t realize how bad the problem was until almost a year after we’d been married.”
“And so you took that as your cue to commit adultery.”
She sighed, sipped her whiskey. “Your brother was a difficult man to live with, Will. So charming and vivacious one minute, maudlin and inconsolable the next. I never knew what to expect. It was like walking permanently on eggshells.”
“I repeat, you thought fucking other men would straighten him out?”
“I thought that I needed to do something to get his attention. I was hurt, and angry and –” she glanced at him from beneath her thick lashes “– and lonely. It’s not exactly easy to have a healthy sex life when your husband’s passed out every night. I went to one party by myself that Harlan was supposed to attend with me, but he was already wasted. I… met some people. Some people who were into, shall we say, open relationships. I got a little carried away, I admit it, but all of that ended even before the divorce was final. You assume that, whenever you see me talking to anyone male, I’m sleeping with them. But the truth is that I’m saving myself for something more meaningful. I’ve learned from my mistakes.”
Will stared at the tear that trickled down her lovely cheek. “What a crock of shit.”
“Excuse me?” She brushed at the tear as if she were embarrassed.
“Excellent delivery. Truly, you might have missed your calling. Too bad Branson won’t let you within twenty feet of his stage.”
“Why are you always so mean to me, Will?”
She seriously had to ask? “Because you screwed around on my brother. And you tried to do it with me.”
Victoria studied him over the rim of the glass. “You know, I think the reason you’re still so angry about it is because you wanted to take me up on it.”
Maybe. Maybe – if he were being completely honest with himself – some very small, very primal part of him had wanted to fuck her. She was hot, she was willing, and he was a red-blooded heterosexual male. But what Victoria didn’t seem to get is that Will believed in the concept of integrity.
He would never poach on another man’s territory, especially when that man happened to be a beloved older brother. A beloved older brother who’d been in crisis. In no small part due to the fact that his wife was a manipulative whore.
Because he was beginning to feel dirty even being here with her, Will reached into the pocket of his shirt.
He tossed the photo onto the desk.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been keeping track of my paramours, Will. I might start to think that you care.”
“Just look at the picture, Torie.”
She sauntered over, turned the photo around with one long, manicured nail.
She snorted. “Please. Give me more credit than that.”
“I’m not asking if you
’ve had sexual relations with him, I’m asking if you’ve ever seen him before.”
“No. Why would you think… wait a minute.” More serious now, Torie tilted her head. “He does look familiar. I think…” she tapped a nail on the photo. “I think he may have delivered some furniture here a few months ago. Several pieces I bought at an auction. Why?” She looked up. “Has he done something naughty?”
“He’s dead.” Or at least presumed so, at any rate.
“Oh?” She sounded curious, but not overly.
“You heard about the severed arm that was found down by the river?”
“Yes. You mean to say that was him? Or part of him, anyway. Why, that’s downright grisly. How unfortunate for him. Although I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”
Will watched her, very carefully. Victoria, he knew, was a skilled liar.
“Do you happen to have the information regarding those pieces he delivered? The name of the auction house from which you purchased them, for example.”
“I might.” Which Will knew meant she did.
He paused. “I could get a warrant.”
“On what grounds?” She gave a careless laugh.
“On the grounds that this man is dead, and we’re investigating the circumstances.”
“And you think I had something to do with it?”
“I think that this man has no record of employment for the past year, but he was getting money from somewhere. If he was working off the books delivering furniture, that might help clear up a few questions.” Plus, Will wanted to talk to the owners of this auction house. But that wasn’t something Torie needed to know.
She frowned. “I don’t know that I want it getting back to the auction house that I ratted about their hiring practices. The antique business is a small world. It could hurt my professional reputation.”
Hearing Torie worry about reputation struck Will as particularly ironic, but he nodded like he understood. “There’s no need to bring your name into it.”
She frowned again, but went around the desk and started tapping keys on her laptop. When it appeared she’d found the information, she looked at him over the top of the screen. “If I cooperate, you’ll owe me.”
“Or you could simply think of this as your civic duty. Or your good deed for the day.”
“As if I care about either of those things.”
“I’m not having sex with you Victoria.”
She smiled, cat to mouse. “Why does it always come back to sex, Willis? You must be awfully deprived, poor baby.”
Will started to stand.
“Where are you going?”
“To start the paperwork for a warrant.”
“Oh, sit back down. In case no one’s ever told you, you are a downright stick in the mud.” She hit a button, and the printer started humming and whirring. “Here.”
She handed him the printout along with the mug shot of Jimmy Owen.
“Thank you.”
“You still owe me.”
“Good luck collecting.”
“You know,” she told him “that your refusal only makes me more determined.”
“That’s your problem.”
Will started toward the door, then, as if in afterthought, because he’d seen the corkboard behind her desk, on which hung a number of keys with white identification labels tied on with black ribbon – some with one strip of ribbon, some with two – he pulled a baggie from his pocket.
“I almost forgot.” He tossed it onto her desk, where it landed with a little clunk. “I was wondering if this key might belong to you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ALLIE felt more than a little ridiculous.
“Is this really necessary?”
“Yes, unless you wish to ruin the surprise.”
“Is it really a surprise if you already told me that you’re taking me to Savannah?”
“Just be patient a little longer, darling.”
Allie subsided against the seat. They’d been in the car for fifteen minutes, but since she was blindfolded – blindfolded! – she had no idea where they were actually going. Presumably to Savannah, although with all the secretiveness, Mason could be shanghaiing her and she’d end up working as a cabin boy on a slow boat to China.
Well, at least she had a small overnight bag stowed in the trunk, so she wouldn’t be entirely without provisions as she sailed the high seas, swabbing decks and… whatever it was that cabin boys did.
Unfortunately she’d already told Will – since he was the one most likely to send out a search party – not to expect her back home tonight.
He’d grimaced, but had surprisingly little to say on the matter.
It made Allie suspicious.
The blindfold made Allie suspicious, too. Maybe Will and Mason were in cahoots, kingpins of an underground cabin boy procurement ring.
And okay, she was being ridiculous. Probably because she was nervous.
Allie could hear traffic outside the window of the car Mason had rented, and she slunk a little lower in the seat. The windows were tinted, but still.
“You know, people passing us probably think I’m being kidnapped. Either that or that we’re on our way to a BDSM convention.”
Silence.
“Mason?”
“What? Sorry. I’m afraid I was distracted by a rather fetching image of you in black stilettoes, wielding a riding crop.”
“I’m not sure what the appropriate response to that is. Giddyup?”
Mason chuckled.
Allie fidgeted with the hem of her dress – a short, blue cotton affair with a plunging V back that Sarah insisted brought out the color in her eyes and showed off her legs. What there was of them, anyway. At five-two – with shoes on – she wasn’t exactly going to be trying out for the Rockettes anytime soon.
She shifted in her seat.
“So.” How exactly did one bring this sort of thing up? “Have you ever…” No, that sounded too much like she was prying into his past. “Are you… into… anything. Like that? The, um, bondage stuff, I mean.”
The blindfold, while giving her an odd sense of confidence – perhaps because she couldn’t see his expression – was also frustrating precisely because she couldn’t see his expression.
But something, maybe just a disturbance in the air, made her feel sure that he was smiling.
“Forget I asked,” she said, not wanting to sound like a total rube on the topic of sexual matters.
Mason reached out to snag her hand. “I’m glad that you asked.” His lips brushed her knuckles, and okay, it felt completely different due to the blindfold. Allie shivered. Maybe she could understand why people did things like that – the blindfold – as it heightened your other senses. Noises seemed louder, or maybe simply clearer. The heat from Mason’s lips felt searing. Not to mention that it added an element of… surprise and suspense.
But at the same time she had always thought it was erotic to look into a person’s eyes when you were with them, intimately speaking. It made the connection more… personal, she guessed.
But maybe Mason didn’t like it to be too personal. He’d talked about his walls, after all, and how women didn’t really see him. She wondered if maybe that extended to the sexual arena, though how a woman could not see him while they were doing that was beyond her comprehension.
Of course, Mason had dated models – one of them had even modeled lingerie, the bitch – so maybe they were too sophisticated and worldly to find something as simple as looking into a man’s eyes during sex impossibly erotic. They probably carried personal sex toys along with the flavored condoms in their purses, and wrote How To articles for Cosmo in their spare time.
Mason probably had been with women who wore stilettoes and wielded riding crops and thought nothing of it. Whereas Allie only had Wesley and one other man – well, boy, really. She’d dated him in college. But she only had two other men to use as a point of comparison. She tended to be the long-term, monogamous type.
&n
bsp; Mason, on the other hand, had probably been with legions of women, experienced women who knew –
“Whatever you’re talking yourself into – or out of – over there, don’t you think it would be better to wait until I actually answer the question?”
Allie jumped. She’d almost forgotten that she’d even asked a question.
“Sorry,” she said. Then, because she didn’t want walls, either his or hers, to get in the way of communication, she decided she’d pull her own down – partly at least – and be honest about her reservations. “I guess I’m just worried that…” Was she really going to tell him this? “That you’ll end up being disappointed, somehow. I mean, I’ve never even read the Kama Sutra, let alone tried to emulate any of its suggestions, and you –”
“Allison.” Mason squeezed her hand, hard enough to make Allie shut up. “This isn’t a competition. You’re not auditioning for a part. And tonight, should you have reservations about anything, for any reason, I took the liberty of booking two rooms, just in case. There’s no pressure, darling. I simply want to spend some time with you under… normal circumstances. Of which we’ve had a shortage thus far. And aside from that.” He kissed her hand again. “Did it ever cross your mind that I might be nervous? That I may be equally concerned that you’ll find fault with me?”
“What?” The concept seemed absolutely alien. “But you’re…”
A man, she realized. A very human man, with his own walls, his own insecurities. And he’d had enough faith in their connection to share some of them with her.
“I’m…?”
“A completely amazing person,” she told him as she turned his way. “Inside and out.”
He was silent for a beat, then Allie sensed him leaning toward her. “Red light,” he whispered as his lips brushed hers. “I thought I’d take advantage, since I have an equally amazing woman temporarily held prisoner in the passenger seat.”
Allie reached up, letting her fingertips roam over his face. His stunning face. Then her hand slid around the back of his neck – he had his hair in a ponytail again – and she pulled him toward her. “You know, this blindfold thing might be interesting under the right circumstances.”
Admit One (Sweetwater Book 2) Page 20
