"Wow! What was that?" Maisy asked with a little laugh.
"Truth serum," Keller said with a wink. "Now you'll have no choice but to tell me the truth about your Boris and Natasha dress-up escapade at the real estate office." Smiling, he winked again and chucked her chin lightly with his knuckle. "And after that, of course, you can tell me all about the guy who was sucking your face off last night at Jazzbo's."
Swallowing hard, Maisy gazed back at Keller for a moment and then stepped closer to him, placing her arms around his neck. "I think I definitely need another dose of truth serum." Standing on her toes, she reached up and brushed her lips against his, but Keller pulled back, holding Maisy at arm's length.
"Uh-uh. First you explain, then I'll give you the antidote to the truth serum--it's far more powerful, and it . . . uh . . . it takes a lot more time to deliver." He jiggled his eyebrows and gave a devilish smile.
Maisy's shoulders slumped. "Oh Keller," she said with a forlorn sigh. "How I wish I didn't have to--"
The telephone rang. Yes! Saved by the bell, Maisy thought. "Excuse me for a moment, Keller, that might be important," she said, crossing the room to answer the call. "Hello?"
"Hello, ma'am, this is Alice with Surveys USA and I'd like to just ask you a few questions about your radio listening preferences. Do you have a moment?"
A telemarketer? NOW?!
Before offering a curt reply and hanging up, Maisy thought better of it. "Um, yes, yes, of course I can.""Great. Thanks. How many hours would you say that you spend listening to the radio each day?"
"Oh dear. You mean now? Can't you find someone else?"There was a brief silence on the other end of the wire. "Uh . . . is this a bad time for you? I can call back later if that would be better."
"No, not at all. I understand. You don't have any choice. Of course I'm available. How about ten to fifteen minutes?""So, you only listen to the radio for ten to fifteen minutes a day?"
"I believe so. I'll have to find all the paperwork--it's in Norman's desk. Just let them know I'm on my way." There was that silence again. "Um . . . what? Let who know? Ma'am, you don't have to come down to the office, all I need is--"
Maisy hung up the receiver and, taking a deep, cleansing breath, turned to Keller. "Oh, Keller, I'm terribly sorry, but there's an emergency at Persimmon Travel and I need to pinch-hit for Norman."
Keller slanted Maisy a wary look. "A travel emergency?"
"Oh sure." Maisy scurried about, gathering her purse and keys. "They happen all the time. You know, lost luggage, hotel switches . . . but this one's really important. Can I impose on you to drive me to the office? My buddy Norman kind of stranded me, remember?" She gave a little laugh.
"Yeah . . . sure. But what kind of travel emergency--"
"Eh . . . A client just flew in from Austria and he's there at the office, waiting to go over the travel arrangements we made for him. He's . . . he's, uh . . . going to travel across the U.S." Maisy took in Keller's disbelieving expression and she swallowed hard. Damn it, if Norman can get away with telling those whoppers of his, well then . . . so can I! she thought. "He's a very important, wealthy client. He's a, uh, a relative of Arnold Schwarzenegger, in fact." Now Keller really looked skeptical and Maisy got nervous and licked her lips. She could almost feel one of those awful telltale, nervous staccato giggles of Norman's rising, but she repressed it.
"Norman must have forgotten about the client flying in," Maisy continued, "and, evidently, he got stuck having cocktails with the rep from Royal Caribbean and the office can't reach him."
"So . . . the batteries must be dead in both his pager and cell phone, hmm?"
Damn! She forgot about that. "Oh . . . well, when Norman left the real estate office, he was running late for his appointment with the cruise rep and . . . uh, I guess, in all the rush, Norman left his pager . . ." she cleared her throat, "and his cell phone, in his trench coat at the office." She smiled brightly, trying to look convincing and camouflage her uneasiness. She didn't think it was working. "Mr. Schwarzenegger is an elderly gentleman and probably feels a little lost here all by himself--so, I, uh, I really do need to get there right away." She smiled again and shrugged apologetically.
Keller stood silent for a moment, in apparent contemplation. After what seemed like forever, he finally said, "Sure, no problem--under one condition."
Maisy swallowed again. "Condition?"
Keller nodded resolutely. "Yup. I'll be here at your place this evening at eight o'clock to pick you up and you better be here. No excuses."
"Pick me up? For what?"
Keller screwed his face into an expression of incredulity. "Well, a date, of course." He threw his hands into the air. "You know, you--me--food--conversation . . . etcetera." He jiggled his eyebrows in a devilish manner as he said etcetera, and Maisy felt her heart lurch.
Keller took Maisy's hand in his and studied it for a moment, smoothing his thumb over her soft skin. "I think you're a very special woman, Maisy. A little crazy, maybe," he laughed, "but definitely special--and I'd like to get to know you better." He leaned in close and whispered against her lips, "Much better." And then he brushed his lips across hers. As Maisy began to lean closer, readying herself for more, Keller pulled back. "And tonight . . ." he said just above a whisper, pausing to kiss her cheek.
Maisy's eyes widened as her heart tap-danced through her chest. "Yes, Keller," she said, gazing dreamily into his luscious chocolate chip eyes and anticipating his next remark. "Go on. What about tonight?" She batted her lashes a couple of times for effect.
He tilted her chin and kissed the tip of her nose. "Tonight you can give me those Boris and Natasha and face-sucking explanations you owe me over dinner." He took a step back, tapped her nose with his finger, winked and broadcast a self-satisfied grin.
Damn! All he's interested in is that damned explanation, Maisy's thoughts screamed. Her visions of a passionate dessert thwarted, Maisy's heartbeat slowed to a clumsy box step as her shoulders slumped. "Did anyone ever tell you that you don't play fair, Mr. Chaney?"
"All's fair, etcetera, etcetera," he said through a chuckle.
"Yeah, well . . . eh . . . I, uh, I'll probably have to entertain the Austrian this evening."
Keller huffed a growl and rolled his eyes. "Fine, we'll bring the old fella along if we absolutely have to--but he gets dropped off after dinner--and before dessert." Keller flashed a smile and Maisy's heart leapt at the renewed hope. "Now, any more excuses . . . Natasha?"
Before she knew what was happening, Maisy heard herself let go with one of those hideous nervous giggles of Norman's--the ones she positively loathed. "Nope. Eight o'clock it is." Panic was setting in fast. Keller couldn't see Norman at the travel agency when he dropped Maisy off. She had to reach Norman--now! "Excuse me for a moment while I run to the restroom, Keller."
* * *
Chapter Fifteen
"You can come out now, Norman--Keller's gone," Maisy said, opening the door to the supply room where Norman sat hunched behind a pile of boxes. Norman peeked his head out. "What was that frantic call all about, telling me I had to hide?"
"Keller just dropped me off and I didn't want him to see you. I told him you're with the Royal Caribbean guy and I have to fill in for you."
"Why would--"
Maisy waived her outstretched finger at him and sputtered. "You . . . you . . . you. Oooooh! You make me so angry I could, I could . . . Ooooh!" She raked her fingers through her hair in exasperation. "Norman, how could you do that to me? You miserable, chicken-hearted, lily-livered, hideous excuse for a human being--you just left me out there all by myself looking like a clown! I just want to let you know that I'm never speaking to you again as long as I live," she said, thwapping her shoulder bag against Norman's side as he rose. "With the exception of a short conversation regarding this Boris and Natasha thing that you need to help me clear up with Keller."
Cringing, Norman rubbed his arm where the weighty purse made impact. "Honestly, I don't know why you're
so upset with me, Maisy. Granted, I may have been a little hasty locking you out of the car this afternoon," he lapsed into a nervous giggle, "but--"
"A little hasty!?"
"But it all worked out for the best," he continued. "You got to spend the afternoon with Keller, didn't you? And before you know it Sharon and Wilson will be sailing for Saudi." He shrugged, held his arms outstretched, and beamed a bright smile. "See? No problem. Life is perfect."
"Perfect!" Maisy gave Norman another solid roundhouse whack with her shoulder bag and he winced. "Perfect? Are you insane, Norman? Is that the problem? I mean, you must be crazy if you don't realize that you've ruined any chance I ever hoped to have with Keller. Because of you, any future with the man of my dreams is kaput."
"Oh come on Maisy, stop exaggerating. It's not that bad." Norman scratched his head and glanced at Maisy, who would have been breathing fire through her nostrils if at all possible. Quickly averting his gaze, he said, "Okay--so I guess it is that bad. Eh . . . so what did you tell Keller about our little Boris and Natasha stint at Sharon's office? I'm sure you came up with something dazzling."
"I told him nothing."
"There, see?" He became comfortably animated again and smiled at Maisy. "Keller didn't even ask. So what are you worried about?"
Maisy threw her head back and laughed--it was a sick, strangled sound. "Didn't ask, huh? Norman, that man is determined to find out every last detail of our escapade. I'd finally decided that I had no choice but to tell him the truth--"
"The truth! But Maisy you can't--"
"When the phone rang," she continued, "and I pretended it was the office saying I had to cover for you." She proceeded to tell Norman the whole Austrian client story she told Keller.
"Brilliant! Good thinking, Maisy. You're getting more like me every day." Laughing, he placed his hand on Maisy's shoulder--and she promptly removed it.
"Please don't add insult to injury, Norman. I figured I could stall for time until you and I could come up with something rational and plausible." She slapped her head. "Hah! Listen to what I'm saying. I must be crazy too if I think you, of all people, can come up with something logical and believable."
"Don't worry, we have plenty of time to come up with something convincing."
"Oh yeah? He's picking me up for dinner at eight o'clock tonight."
"Oh."
"And my brain is so overloaded that I can't think of anything to tell him." Maisy sighed. "How can we possibly explain being caught there--in his sister's office--in those ridiculous disguises?"
There was a long pause as Norman sat on one of the boxes and rubbed his chin, while Maisy tapped her toe against the concrete floor.
"I've got it!"
Maisy shook her head. "I'm afraid to ask."
"We'll tell him we were plotting out the script for Persimmon Travel's first Mystery Dinner!"
"What?"
"Oh sure--it's a cinch. Remember the mystery dinner we went to last year at that restaurant downtown?" Maisy nodded. "Well, we'll just say that we were doing some live-action script testing--and since the plot involves a Realtor, we decided to act out part of the script at the closest real estate office to see if it was believable." Beaming a wide grin, Norman leapt up and gestured dramatically. "Ta-da!"
Maisy thought for a moment and then nodded. "My brain must be fried."
"Huh?"
"Because that really doesn't sound too bad, Norman. It's simple and not too extravagant. And it almost sounds credible." She smiled for the first time since she got to the office. "Okay--I say we go with that. I certainly can't come up with anything better. Do you think he'll buy it?"
"Are you kidding? Trust me."
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
Maisy's doorbell rang at seven forty-five and Hershey yipped, alerting his mistress to the arrival. "He's early," she said, glancing first at her watch and then down at Hershey. She laughed as she gave herself a final mirror check. "No problem--you look mighty spiffy, there, Mazel Lynn. What do you think, Hershey? Do I look good enough to wow Mr. Chaney?" The little dog slanted its head and seemed to smile as he appeared to study the simple black dress (a size ten, which made Maisy VERY happy). Before heading for the front door, Maisy glanced once more at her hair, which was pulled back in a smart twist, the tasteful gold accessories--and then she smiled wide when she thought about the silky, lacy new bra and undies she picked up at the mall after leaving the office.
"I have a really good feeling about tonight, Hershey. The mystery dinner rehearsal idea isn't bad. And I'll just tell him it was my overly amorous, dopey cousin he saw kissing me at the restaurant." She grinned at Hershey and he bellowed a sickly whimper. Maisy laughed. "Nope," she said, patting the little dog, "you don't have to worry, Hershey. I think everything is going to work out perfectly for Keller and me--I can feel it in my bones." With a wink, she smiled, sucked in a deep breath and answered the door.
Maisy gasped. "Rudy! What are you doing here?"
"I've come to help you, Maisy," Rudy said, stepping into her living room. "Hello, my buddy Hershey," he said, petting the little dog who was clearly in heaven sniffing the restaurant odors that must have been clinging to Rudy's body.
"You what?"
"Ya. Norman told me all about the bad situation today with your dreamship."
"My what?"
"Your lover boy." Rudy nodded with a wink. "I know I didn't do a very good job helping you and Norman at the restaurant with Big Wilson last night, and so I thought I would come here to pretend to be your Austrian client tonight." He held his shoulders back proudly and grinned. "Surprise, Maisy!"
Maisy's hand flew to her mouth in horror. "Oh no! No, Rudy, you have to leave."
"But--"
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude--I mean this was a very sweet gesture on your part--and I really appreciate it," she said as she gently, but firmly pushed the hulking German out of her house. "But I'd really rather be alone with Keller. You can understand that, right?"
Rudy nodded knowingly. "Ahhh, you want to get cozy with your dreamship. Yes, I understand."
"Dreamboat," Maisy corrected. "Besides, I told Keller our Austrian client is an elderly gentleman and you're certainly not--" Maisy gasped and clapped her hand against her mouth. "Oh my God, Rudy--I nearly forgot--Keller saw you putting the moves on me last night at the restaurant. We have GOT to get you out of here before he sees you."
"Putting the moves?" Rudy scrunched his handsome features. "What does that mean?"
"You know--the lip-lock, the clench." She rolled her eyes and shook her head as Rudy just stood there looking befuddled. "The kiss you gave me, Rudy--remember?"
"Oh! The macho-man smooch. Ya, sure I remember." He broadcast a bright smile. "I did an excellent job of putting the moves on you, ya Maisy? We fooled Big Wilson pretty good. He thinks Norman and I are manly men and you are I are enjoying the sex of marriage." He broke into a wide-toothed grin and looked for all the world like a big kid.
Sighing as she projected an odd expression, Maisy patted his solid arm and nodded. "Yes, Rudy. Yes, you did a fine job. Your performance was so . . . uh . . . dramatic . . . that it flabbergasted not only Big Willy, but Norman and me too." She smiled weakly and patted his arm again.
"Ya, I can be very dramatic when I have to be," Rudy said through his still present grin. "If I can fool Wilson to think I am Austrian and not German, I can fool your dreamboat, too--you'll see." He winked and grinned--and Maisy groaned. "Look," he said motioning to his well-tailored taupe suit, "I am wearing my best suit, Maisy. I look like a rich Austrian for sure, ya?"
"No, Rudy. Really, it's not necessary. You really do have to go now," Maisy said, pushing against him again. "Keller's likely to be here any--" Maisy inhaled an audible gasp, yanked Rudy into the house and slammed the door. "Damn it!" she said, hunching down into a squatting position and pulling Rudy along with her.
Obviously dumbfounded, Rudy scratched his head. "What's wrong, Maisy?"
The doorbell rang and Maisy grasped Rudy's arm, digging her nails into the sleeve of his sport coat. "Shhh. He's here," she whispered, placing her finger to her lips. "We need to stay down here, out of sight."
"Who is here? Big Wilson?"
Maisy smacked her hand against her forehead. "Jeez, Rudy, haven't you been listening to anything I've said? Keller's here. He pulled up just a minute ago. That's him at the door. He can't see you here. I could never explain it if he recognized you from last night. He thinks you and I are . . . Oh, good Lord, what am I going to do?" she asked, rhetorically. She certainly didn't expect--or want--any solution from Rudy. The bell rang again, this time followed by a knock. "Shhh," Maisy repeated. "If we're quiet, maybe he'll just go away."
"But then you would miss your dreamboat man." Nodding and smiling, Rudy patted Maisy on the head. "Don't worry, Maisy. Everything will be fine. Trust me." With that, he rose and opened the door before Maisy could stop him.
"No!" she squealed to no avail before coming face to knees with Keller.
Trust me? Trust me! My God, Rudy and Norman really are made for each other, Maisy thought as her heart slid down to her toes.
Of course, Keller looked astoundingly handsome in his dark suit and tie. And Maisy caught a glimpse of happy dancing in those mesmerizing chocolate chip eyes of his before he laid eyes on Rudy--then the chocolate drops seemed to coldly solidify and the dancing came to an abrupt halt.
"Hello," was all Maisy could manage as she hoisted a dilapidated grin, raised her hand and wiggled her fingers at Keller.
"Uh . . . hi Maisy. What are you doing down there?" Keller said, slanting her a bemused expression.
"Oh. Oh . . . I'm . . . looking for my earring." She patted her hands across the floor.
Shipping Sharon Page 19
