Meg loosened her death grip on Joe and turned her face up to his. “Did I just hear Maury talking?”
“Yes, you did.”
She shook her head, looking amazed. “Could it be, Joe, that this is a nightmare and we’re not really awake?”
“If there’s a God.” Joe set her aside, feeling as murderous as he was confused. “If you’ll excuse me, Meg, I’m going to go kill my uncle.”
“You keep saying that, but you never do it.”
And she sounded downright petulant about that, too. “This time, I mean it. Trust me.”
All it took were two determined strides across the tile floor to reach the door, unlock it and whip it open. Sure enough, there stood short, paunchy, bowlegged Maury Seeger with his toupee askew and an unlit cigar in his hand. No big ugly ham-fisted guys flanked him. He was alone and Joe had never been so glad to see him. He proved it by saying, evenly, “I’m going to kill you now, Uncle Maury. I promised Meg I would.”
“What for? What’d I do?”
Meg stepped around Joe, twitching a pointing finger in his great-uncle’s face. “You.” Each waggle of her finger missed hitting the tip of the octogenarian’s nose by about a hairsbreadth. “What do you mean ‘what’d you do?’ You and your friends had us thinking there were Mafia hit men right outside our door. Well, I hope you all got a big laugh out of scaring us just now—and last night, too. I don’t know what you’re up to, Maury Seeger, or what kind of game you’re playing here, but it’s not funny anymore, I can tell you that. And here I thought you were my friend. I’ve even been defending you when Joe thought you were senile. It never occurred to me that you’re just mean.”
Maury’s expression had become more and more grim as Meg’s tirade had gone on. With a somewhat blank stare, he looked from her to Joe. “There were wise guys right outside your door? Just now?”
“Don’t start, Uncle Maury. I’m warning you. Meg has pepper spray she’s just itching to use. Either you come clean about how you knew we were here and about what’s really going on, or I’m going to turn her loose with it.”
Maury put a thick-fingered hand to his forehead. “I think I need to sit down. I don’t feel so well.”
Instant worry for the old man supplanted anger in Joe’s heart—Meg’s, too, apparently, as she rushed to take Maury’s one arm while Joe supported him on the other side. Only by turning sideways in the doorframe could they all three escape the bathroom and make it into the bedroom. As one, the three of them sat at the foot of the bed with its rumpled sheets.
“You want some water?” Meg asked. “I’ll get you some.” She jumped up, but instead of tearing for the bathroom, she turned on Joe. “How could you let me go on like that? Now I’ve killed him, and I’ll have to live with that—”
“Hold on,” Maury interrupted, clutching her arm and tugging her back onto the bed. “I ain’t dead yet. And I don’t want no water, honey. I’m all right. For now, just listen to me, okay? This ain’t no game I’m playing with you. Those two goons you say were here ain’t friends of mine. Like I told you last night, I think someone from my past up in Jersey sent them down.”
Joe could contain himself no longer. “Then where are they now? Why would they just leave? They’re the ones with the guns, not us.”
“I don’t know where they are—”
“Wait a minute. How’d you know where we are? I didn’t tell you when I called last night.”
“Oh, that.” Maury waved a hand like it was no big deal. “I had that idiot cabbie follow you here, just to make sure you made it. So sue me for caring.”
“And the room number? How’d you know that?”
“Twenty dollars to the kid at the desk.”
“Of course. And how’d you actually get inside the room?”
“Another twenty buys a pass key. That’s why you should always use that little latch on the chain, for extra protection.”
“I’ll remember that.” Joe looked at Meg, who met his gaze. “This explains a lot, doesn’t it? Like why we were supposed to call his cell phone and not the house. He wouldn’t be there, since he was following us. It also explains how the ‘hit men’ out in the hall—no doubt a couple of his cronies—also knew the room number.” He jerked his thumb in his great-uncle’s direction. “Because this wise guy right here told them. They’re all in on it, he and his friends. All it took to pull it off was a simple act of bribery.”
“You got it all wrong, Joey, I swear you do.”
“And you,” Joe warned his great-uncle, “aren’t out of hot water yet. I sure as hell haven’t seen any goons or heavies or whatever the hell you call them. All I know is a couple of goofs were knocking on the door, saying they were Room Service. Then they were federal agents, and then they were gone, just like that. So, none of this is funny to me. It’s way too early in the day—”
“No, it ain’t. It’s nearly ten o’clock in the morning.”
Joe exchanged a look with Meg. “We must have been more tired than I realized.”
“It’s the heavy curtains,” she said. “So you can sleep.”
“Apparently they work.” Again he settled his attention on his uncle. “The point is I wouldn’t care if it was noon. I haven’t yet had coffee, a decent shower or breakfast, and I’m still wearing the same clothes I had on yesterday—”
“That’s why I’m here this morning.”
But Joe was on a roll. “And since you weren’t home this morning—apparently, you were on your way here—when Linda phoned, she called me on my cell phone.”
Maury made a face of distaste. “Oh, that couldn’t have been fun. But look here—I brought your bags, yours and Meggie’s. I forgot to give them to you last night. They’re right over there by the door.” Maury started to get up off the bed.
Joe held him in place. “Uh-uh. Not yet. Not until you give us the truth.”
“But you know the truth, and we ain’t got all day, Joey. We need to get out of here before those goons come back. They could be anywhere—”
“Right. Like in a coffee shop down the road, waiting to have a good laugh with you at our expense. Come on, out with it, Uncle Maury. The truth. Or we’re not going anywhere.”
7
THE TRUTH WAS, Meg reflected late that afternoon, they hadn’t been able to get anything more out of Maury than they already knew. The man was sticking to his story that this was not a joke. It was the Mafia.
Not that she was feeling any pain about it at the moment. How stressed could someone be when sitting on warm, sunny St. Pete beach while sipping a cool drink, with a great-looking guy right in the next wooden deck-chair? A big hotel-owned, canvas sun-umbrella, its spiked end driven deep into the sand, shaded them both. No point in trying to sunbathe when they were dressed in shorts. The one thing Maury hadn’t thought to pack was swimsuits. Too bad, because she would have liked to see Joe in nothing but swimming trunks, his powerful chest on display for her viewing pleasure.
“So, Mr. Smith,” Meg said, turning slightly in her chair to see him, “at least we had a couple of pieces of luggage this time when we checked in. Tell me, what do you think of the great big pink historical hotel behind us? Pretty darn cool, huh?”
“I’ll say, Mrs. Smith. Four- or five-star cool, at these prices.”
“Glad you mentioned money. I’d think a man who could afford this place could at least buy his wife a big diamond ring, don’t you?”
“I do. But you’ll have to talk to Uncle Maury about that, since he’s footing the bill. I used some of that cash he gave me yesterday to pay for our room, so technically he’s your man.”
That wasn’t the answer she wanted, so she went fishing again. “Still, I feel naked without a wedding ring. It’s like we’re living in sin.”
Joe’s chuckle teemed with innuendo. “Not yet we aren’t. But just say the word, baby.”
That was more like it. Still, Meg primly tilted her chin up, pretending to ignore his very pleasing comeback. “Anyway, it was nice of Maury t
o pay for the room.”
“Crazy old dude, huh? His heart’s as big as Texas. Although I still can’t believe he’s sticking to the Mafia story. I wonder why he gets so worked up if we say we’re coming home?”
We’re coming home. Such a domestic sentiment, one that struck a chord with Meg. “Right now it just seems easier to let him have his way.”
“Can’t complain in these surroundings. Being here with you isn’t so bad, either.”
Joe’s languid, grinning expression melted Meg’s bones.
“I saw a sign in the lobby announcing a wedding here tonight. That must be something to see.”
Mindful of her pretty designer drink in one hand, Meg excitedly drew her knees up like a giddy teenager contemplating an upcoming dance. “Oh, it is. It’s so romantic. They perform them on the wide steps in the garden. And with the Gulf of Mexico and a blazing sunset behind them, it’s just beautiful. I would love to get married like that.” She paused, then sat up straighter. “Hey, you want to see the wedding?”
“No.” Sprawled lazily in his chair, Joe finished his drink and rested the plastic cup on his stomach. “There might be a pro-wrestling match or a tractor-pull on TV, woman. A man wouldn’t want to miss that.”
Meg fished an ice cube out of her drink and lobbed it at him. It hit him in his chest. Unruffled, he picked it off his T-shirt and popped it in his mouth, winking at her as he crunched it up and swallowed. The action struck her as supremely sexy simply because it was Joe doing it.
“Anyway, we’re not invited. We’d be crashing,” he said.
“No, we wouldn’t. Look up there, about ten floors up.” Meg twisted around in her chair and pointed to a wing of the sprawling building. “See that rooftop balcony? It’s attached to the banquet room, which will be open while they set up for the reception. We can watch from there. Pretty cool, huh? What do you say?”
Joe looked at her questioningly. “I’m almost afraid to ask—but you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“No, I have not, Mr. Smarty-Pants. A girlfriend of mine got married here about a year ago and I saw people watching. She said couples are told when they book the hotel that they can’t expect the hotel’s other guests to remain completely out of sight. But everyone was respectful. It was nice. So, what do you think? Want to do it?”
Joe raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have to be more specific about what you mean by ‘do it.’”
Secretly thrilled with his verbal foreplay, Meg made a tsk-tsk sound. “I mean watch the wedding. Do you want to?”
“I don’t know. You won’t get all mushy and cry, will you?”
“I might. Will you?”
“Yes, but only if I have to buy them a gift.”
“Like we know where they’re registered. So?”
He shrugged. “Why not? It’s better than running from imaginary hit men.”
“Good.” Having won her way, Meg sat back in her chair. “But they weren’t imaginary this morning when they were banging on the door.” She sipped her drink and worked the straw around in the ice. “You know, I keep thinking—”
“What if you’re right, my great-uncle’s not nuts, and they’re for real?”
Meg nodded. “Exactly. Makes you wonder when they might catch up to us again.” She looked around surreptitiously. “Or who might be sitting around us right now, doesn’t it?”
“Nope.” Joe settled back in his chair, appreciatively surveying their surroundings. “I haven’t even spared them a thought until now. Why should I? I’ve got the sun, a beach, a pretty girl and a drink. Life is good.”
“Great. I came in third. I must be slipping.”
Joe rolled his head until he was looking into her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was talking about the girl on the other side of me.”
Meg sat up and peered around Joe. The deck-chair next to him was empty. He’d got her good, but Meg refused to rise to the bait. “I hate to tell you, cowboy, but I think someone let the air out of your date over there and she flew away.”
“What?” Showing exaggerated surprise, Joe pivoted to look and then turned to Meg. The corners of his mouth twitched with humor but he managed to keep a straight face. “Damn, and I just bought that at the gift shop, too.”
“As if.” Meg rudely, loudly, finished off her drink.
“Hey, you, those slurping noises mean it’s all gone.”
“Oh. In that case…” She set the tall plastic glass in the sand, knowing someone from the hotel’s pool-side bar would come around momentarily to pick it up. “You know, Joe, you’re not half-bad—mood-wise—once you get your coffee and shower in the morning.”
He nodded, also putting his cup in the sand. “I smell better, too.”
“I noticed that, as well.”
“Thanks.” Chuckling, Joe closed his eyes against the afternoon sunlight.
Meg feasted her eyes on him. The man was so strikingly handsome, it just hurt. Lying back in the chair, he looked like a Greek god sculpted in a reclining pose. He didn’t lose a thing in profile, either. High cheekbones. Patrician nose. Wide, sensual lips and a strong jawline. She watched as a gentle breeze lifted his sandy-colored hair off his forehead.
“Joe?”
“Yes?” He didn’t move a muscle or open his eyes.
“I was just wondering, and it’s really none of my business—”
“But?” He knitted his fingers together atop his abdomen.
“But…are you going to call Linda back?”
Though he kept his eyes closed, a fine tension settled at the corners of his mouth. “Can’t stand suspense, huh?”
“No. Not really.”
“What about Carl?”
“Please. I’m in no hurry to call him. But knowing him, he’s already out with someone else while he waits for my answer.”
“Men are such slime.”
“I know. Lucky for me and my heart, though, I really don’t care about him. So, what about you, Joe?”
“I don’t care about Carl, either.”
Meg chuckled. “Silly. I meant, what about Linda?”
He finally looked over at her. “Well, it’s a little harder to call her now that my cell phone’s lost its charge.”
“I have the same problem with mine.”
“Too bad Uncle Maury didn’t bring the chargers along with our underwear and toothbrushes. And I can’t use the hotel phone. Linda has caller ID and would not be amused to see some hotel’s name and number pop up when I’m supposed to be staying with my uncle. That’s trouble I don’t need right now.”
“No, I guess not.” How depressing. He remained concerned about Linda’s feelings. Sure, it was admirable. But the obvious leap to a conclusion here was he would only care if he were still thinking about being with her. For the sake of the conversation, Meg threw out her two cents’ worth. “You could press star sixty-seven, if you really wanted to talk to her. That blocks your location.”
“A surefire way to raise a woman’s curiosity.”
Suddenly grumpy over all this solicitous care Joe was taking of Linda’s stupid feelings, Meg blurted, “God, you can’t even go to a beach hotel with a relative while you’re on vacation in Florida? For all she knows that’s exactly what you did. Is she always so suspicious?”
“No. But you have to admit she has every reason to be, after my conversation with her this morning. And I can’t tell her I’m here with Uncle Maury. What if she wants to talk to him? Or calls him at the house later, and he answers?”
“Who’s to say she hasn’t already done that? Maybe she thought she should apologize for hanging up on you earlier—”
Joe sat bolt upright. “Oh, damn, I didn’t even think about that.”
Meg reached over and put a hand on his arm. “Calm down. If she’d called, Maury would have covered for you and then let you know. And that hasn’t happened, as far as we know. So no big whoop.”
Joe stared fixedly as he apparently considered the logic of Meg’s scenario. Then he relaxed a
nd nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. He’d cover for me.”
As Joe settled back into his chair, Meg fought a grin that threatened to turn into a laugh. “You’re afraid of her, aren’t you?”
Indignation thinned Joe’s lips to a straight line. “I am not.”
“You are so. What is she—jealous for a living or something?”
“No. I just don’t want to make things any harder for her than they’re already going to be. Which may be tough. She’s not usually suspicious, but she does stay on top of things.”
“Really? Like what?”
“Mountains, mostly.”
“As in making them out of molehills?”
“Actually, she’s a ski instructor at a Colorado resort her family owns. She’s also training for the Olympics, so she doesn’t need anything distracting her focus right now, either.”
“Dear God, all that? She’s also blond, isn’t she?”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Isn’t she, Joe?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, who didn’t know?” Picturing what this rich paragon of athletic vitality and, no doubt, Swedish good looks must be like, Meg said levelly, “I think I hate Linda.”
Joe grinned. “A lot of women do.”
“So, what does she do when there’s no snow?”
Joe looked almost apologetic. “She’s working on a master’s in creative writing. She wants to write about her experiences teaching skiing to the disabled.”
Meg gripped her chair’s arms. “Oh, man, the Mother Teresa of the slopes. Is there no end to this woman? Tell her to save some for the rest of us. And you—why haven’t you married her yet, Joe? Even I’m considering it.”
He laughed. “I’ll pass that on to her. But tell me, Meg, how do you think I should handle this whole Linda thing?”
Cut her up in little chunks and feed her to the sharks was Meg’s first thought, which she did not voice. “Sorry, cowboy. That’s not my call to make.”
“Ha-ha, your call to make. I get it.” He turned his face up to the sun. “What does it matter, anyway? I’m thinking of moving here.”
Blind Date Page 9
