She laughed in spite of the mock. It had been a long drive and she’d missed Dane’s company while he’d made up for his lack of sleep the night before.
“We need to check the place out—make sure it’s okay.”
“It’s the damn Parker House Hotel. A Boston landmark. Of course it’s okay.”
She sighed. He knew what she meant. They needed to make sure they weren’t being set up—no matter how remote the likelihood was that Patty Baker might be setting them up.
“I get it. You trust Patty Baker. Even though she’s a complete stranger. What if she’s called the cops on us?” Shana couldn’t leave it alone, couldn’t let him get away with it—even though she knew better.
“I’m more worried about you than Patty Baker. You’re getting paranoid.”
He took a left at a light onto School Street according to the sign and then pulled to the right along a sidewalk covered by a red carpet. Damned strange sidewalk.
“Says the king of paranoia. You must have rubbed off on me.”
He pulled the key from the ignition and gave her a molten look.
“I don’t remember rubbing anything, but—”
“Oh shut up.” She felt herself turn pink—not from embarrassment, but definitely from the visual of him rubbing her—in certain places. She popped her door open and jumped down from the car onto the strange red-carpeted sidewalk.
But there was no escape. He swept up beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, leading her through the heavily brassed revolving doors and up the steps into an old-world plush lobby.
“Are we posing as a couple?” She glanced at him as he took her to the left and straight to the hostess stand at Parker’s restaurant as if he’d been there before—as if he lived there.
“There is no pose about it.”
She stopped then and eyed him. “There is no couple here.”
“I didn’t say there was.” He smiled at the hostess who stood in front of them at the entrance.
Shana smiled too, shrugged out of Dane’s loose embrace, and took a step away. She didn’t care what the hostess thought, but she needed to be absolutely clear about what Dane thought.
It would help her immensely if she were absolutely clear about what she herself thought about their relationship. But that puzzle seemed to be beyond her and she needed to stick to solving things that were solvable right now.
“Table for three.”
“We’re expecting to meet a woman named Patty Baker in about thirty minutes,” Dane said.
“I’ll let you know when she arrives, Dane.” The woman tilted her head and gave him a relaxed smile. Then she stepped forward and gave him a hug.
Shana knew she looked like the dictionary definition of a shocked woman, but this was ridiculous. She closed her mouth and regained her poise in a blink. Neither Dane nor the hostess paid her any attention anyway since they were too busy with their reunion.
Her mind sped ahead and she hoped he didn’t try talking his long-lost hostess into coming back to the Vineyard—she’d talk Cap into disqualifying her from the contest since she had to be counted as off-island even if she came for a visit.
“Shana, this is an old friend of mine, Tammy.”
They murmured hellos and even though Dane was as comfortable and gracious as the host of the Miss America contest, the tension between her and Tammy was as solid as a knife blade. Shana didn’t bare her teeth, but she stood tall with her shoulders back and flipped her hair over her shoulder—twice. Tammy backed up to her hostess station, grabbed some menus and with all the charm of an iceberg showed them to a table.
When they sat, Dane busied himself looking around and pretended there was nothing unusual about running into an acquaintance in a strange city.
“So,” she said.
“I know a lot of people in this city. Most of them are women,” he said. He studied his menu. “You have a problem with that?”
“I have a problem with everything about you. So, sure.”
“Get back on track before Patty Baker gets here or she’ll run the other way and you’ll never get your other two large.”
“You do have a point.” She paused and looked at him and held his eyes. “But really, Dane. The hostess at the Parker House? What are the odds?”
“Good. I used to stay here pretty regular.”
“You didn’t mention that when I told you where we were meeting.”
“No. I mentioned it to you last week. That’s why you chose to meet here.”
She blinked.
“Subliminal. Or subconscious or some Freudian thing probably,” he said to her, but he was looking towards the door.
“Or the power of Dane and his suggestions.” She shook her head and slapped the menu down. This had to stop. She needed to break free from Dane’s pull on her. She could feel herself being sucked in by his vortex, and now here was objective evidence that it was happening.
“Patty Baker at two o’clock.”
“Great.”
He slapped her on the thigh under the table. “Get with it girlie. We’re on the job.”
He was right—damn him—and she snapped to. Shana straightened her back, squared her shoulders and raised her chin, like she used to do as a child when saluting her father before he went off to work in his police uniform. This time she pulled on a mental suit of armor and adjusted the now tiny chip on her shoulder to supersize it with a stern warning to herself to take care. It was her father’s voice in her head telling her to shield herself from all danger and be wary, to protect herself and her family from all harm.
Watching Patty Baker turn in their direction, she smiled at the woman and put up a hand for a welcoming wave, all the while feeling the icy coating of professionalism shroud her with the comforting distance of emotional disengagement.
Dane didn’t know what he’d expected until he saw the woman, but then he realized he’d been expecting someone in need of romantic assistance, someone dowdy or plain. Patty Baker was not that. She was tall and slim and had long straight hair and big blue eyes and looked like she could still be in college if it wasn’t for the very chic outfit she was wearing. Even an anti-fashion plate like himself could appreciate the stylish and expensive drape of her coat and the elegant patina of her high leather boots. She glided over to them like she was a runway model.
Dane stood, put out a hand and smiled. He was reserving judgment and wondering what the pathetic mystery client was thinking with this game. This lady had to be out of the league of anyone who would set this up. Except maybe their client had money to burn and a romantic streak. That’s what Dane was counting on. For Shana’s sake.
Speaking of Shana, Dane was glad to see she’d returned to professional form. He didn’t like it when she was out of sorts—even if it was fun teasing her. Up to a point. That point was when she stopped giving it back. When she gave up. That was damned disconcerting. But then the icy distant persona was disconcerting in its own way. She built a wall of ice around herself so thick sometimes she didn’t seem human—all the emotion and fun would get caged up. Until he chipped it away.
Glancing at her he realized he was going to need his ice chipper—or maybe an ax—for the ride home.
With Patty seated, Dane decided to break the ice—at least with Patty.
“Thank you for meeting us. I understand if you’re skeptical about the circumstances. It is unusual, but also it could be very rewarding for you.”
“And for you,” Patty said. And then she smiled to make it friendly again.
Dane decided to forego sugar coating, but Shana jumped in.
“I’ve—we’ve brought the original package with us so you can judge for yourself the intentions of our client. Maybe you have someone in mind who it might be?”
“He doesn’t want us to know for some reason,” Dane put in, “but there’s no harm in telling us. We are very discreet.” He wanted to know and he’d bet their fee this lady knew exactly who it was. She had a smug and excited air as she
looked over the papers Shana passed to her.
“I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Blaise.” She didn’t look up. She knew the guy and thought enough of him to keep his secret.
“Suit yourself. We’ll find out on Valentine’s Day. That is if you decide to come to the island for the proposed date.” He wanted to put her on the spot.
“I’m giving it serious consideration. But there are… so many implications.”
“Of course,” Shana said. “We understand and we don’t mean to rush you.” She darted a glare at Dane. At least there was emotion in it, even if it was negative. Shana excelled at aiming her chipped shoulder at him and she was back to that in full force.
He heaved a sigh, partly relieved and partly disappointed.
He scared Shana. He knew this because he’d done it purposefully, provoking her to this point where she’d retrench to where she felt safer. To where he felt safer.
But one of these days, he was not-so-secretly hoping that she’d stay exposed without her icy shield in place for him to grab onto her and keep her.
Problem was he didn’t know what the hell he’d do with her.
“I was hoping you would say that,” Patty said. “Can you give me until tomorrow? I’ll decide by then and if I decide to go, I’ll travel back with you—accept your offer of protective escort for the duration.”
“Protective—” Dane said. He knew this had to be one of those details Shana had neglected to mention. Damn girl didn’t know she’d end up working for peanuts before she was through—and that was only if they had something left over after the expenses.
“That sounds like a very reasonable plan, Ms. Baker,” Shana said, looking pleased—whether she was or not—but he suspected she was.
“I know I would have to pay for my own hotel on the island of course, but it would be worth having the sense of security you could provide and the time to check things out while I’m there.”
“You’re going to spy on the mystery man,” Dane said.
Patty had the temerity to blush and said, “I haven’t decided anything yet.”
Nice evasion. Shana kicked his ankle.
“Of course you should do whatever you feel you need to do. We would be there at all times to ensure your safety. We would never bring a person into a dangerous or compromising situation,” Shana said.
He thought of Cap when Shana said that and knew she was thinking the same thing—about how they’d put him in a compromising situation and he’d gotten hurt. It still stung, even if Cap was law enforcement. The setup had been Dane’s doing—his idea.
But all had ended well and he scolded himself for going back—for having regrets. That was dead set against the rules of his game.
And that was another reason he’d changed his game. Another reason he stayed on the island to play private investigator. It was humbling. It was hard to swallow. But Shana was there like the sugar to help make the tough medicine go down.
So far.
Chapter 7
“Maybe we ought to consider canceling our bet—it seems silly and we’ve got a case.” They walked from Parker’s Restaurant out the front door and headed down the block toward the Boston Police Department Headquarters. He slipped his phone from his pocket.
“You a welcher, Shana George?” he said it with mock surprise—like he didn’t care, or like he didn’t take the suggestion seriously.
“It’s not welching since I didn’t lose.”
“Forfeiting. Same thing.”
“It just seems so adolescent, really.”
“And your point is?”
She rolled her eyes and said, “Okay. Have it your way. But you can’t have Tammy. She doesn’t count because she’s off-island.”
“I knew that. That what’s bothering you?”
“It’s not bothering me. I just want to make it clear—keep you from cheating.”
“You accusing me of being the kind of guy to cheat?”
“Yes. I know your rules. I know how you play the game.”
He laughed. “Touché.” He pressed the number for David Young on his phone.
Then she gave him a generally accusing look of suspicion. He figured that would be her standard look for the duration till he could thaw her back out. He didn’t doubt for one minute that he could thaw her back out.
But there was that low level sizzle of anxiety underneath everything that one of these days she wouldn’t thaw. That she would leave. The bubble of anxiety surfaced now and he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him.
“What the hell is it with you?” she asked.
“Nothing. What the hell is it with you?”
She remained icy—if possible she stiffened harder.
“Everything is the same with me. Same as it always has been. I’m hands-off.” She looked at his hand.
He let her go. But he was thinking of that time when she was hands-on.
“Not always.”
“Since then. We agreed. I’m holding you to it.”
He nodded and wondered if she meant forever, or just until he could change her mind. He wondered if she was counting on him to change her mind. He wondered if he wanted to change her mind. He didn’t know. Where the hell would that leave them?
“Truce. We’re strictly business partners.” He put his phone to his ear and listened to it ring.
“And friends,” she added. There was some warmth in her voice, maybe out of relief, maybe she was relenting. It was probably hard for her to keep her spine so damn rigid.
“David Young here.”
Dane leaned in toward Shana so she could hear and her smile was worth ten times the effort.
“How the hell are you, old man?” Dane winked at Shana. Her smile held—not even an eye roll. They’d both liked their mutual ex-boss—he’d been a brick backing them up on the Brazilian human trafficking case last summer.
“Dane—I had a feeling I’d be hearing from you—and Shana. Is she there?”
“Right next to me. We’re walking and talking. Heading in your direction in fact—if you’re in.”
“I’m in and you’ll be given the grand Scotland Yard welcome upon your arrival.”
“I’m afraid to ask. We’ll be there in ten.”
Dane slipped the phone in his back pocket and looped an arm through Shana’s and picked up the pace.
“Speaking of old friends, are you going to call on your pal the governor while you’re in town?” Shana asked.
“I will. I was planning to ask him if he could put us up. Save you some expense money on the case.”
“I’m relieved I don’t have to ask you the favor. I figured with all our fellows in arms here, we might impose on someone. I was thinking of Chauncey Miller. I’d like to see him—see how he’s doing.”
“I know. Another one of the wounded from our fiasco last summer. Funny how you and I escaped unscathed. If I don’t count your near brush with a knife blade.”
“Doesn’t count. Only my surfboard was wounded in that incident. But you—”
“Never mind me. I didn’t end up in the hospital.” His heart pounded a little too fast and a little too loud remembering her almost getting stabbed—while he was far enough away not to be a help and close enough to watch in horror. He stilled his nerves and held up against a threatened shudder.
They arrived at the office of the Director of the Scotland Yard Exchange Program, which resided at Boston Police headquarters on a high floor in a corner of windows overlooking a federal office building and a large part of Government Center, the city’s office complex and plaza.
“I think I like the Scotland Yard welcome,” Dane said as he sat back in his chair and accepted a glass of scotch, neat, as recommended.
“Only the best for my special visitors. You and my boss from London are the only two on that list so far.” David smiled at Shana and added, “Like you, my wife would be on the list if she drank scotch.”
Shana had refused the scotch. Apparently she needed all her faculties to keep the big bad D
ane the demon at bay. Or so he figured, being the paranoid type that he was. Too bad he was usually right about these things.
“Thanks for the glowing reference to Patty Baker,” Shana said.
“Always a pleasure. Sounds like an interesting case.”
Shana scrunched her nose and tilted her head. He knew she had no idea if David was serious or sarcastic.
“I’m calling it the Valentine’s Day Lonely Hearts Caper. It’s a hoot to get paid for doing a good deed for a change,” Shana said.
“That’s the spirit.” The director turned his attention to Dane, “Does this mean you won’t be heading off for parts unknown any time soon, then?”
Dane shook his head and watched Shana out of the corner of his eye for her reaction. Steel. May as well be a robot.
“Good. I have you on my Rolodex. You and Shana are my top choices for outside help.”
“That’s very kind of you and much appreciated,” Shana said, letting a spark of warmth through—for the director only.
“You two earned a stellar reputation after that surfing affair last summer. I don’t give gifts.”
“Speaking of fairy godmothers, I think it’s time to call the gov.”
“Let’s do,” David said.
Dane called Governor Peter John Douglas and he invited them to join his dinner party for some visiting dignitaries but Dane said no—and took a rain check. The governor had a full house at the mansion or they would have been welcome to stay there.
David apologized that he had a full house as well, but agreed they ought to call Chauncey Miller because he knew Chauncey would love to see them.
Unfortunately there was no answer on Chauncey’s cell phone or house phone and David had no idea what he might be up to. Except maybe hanky-panky.
Shana laughed at his old-fashioned old-world charm and adored his warmth. Then she looked at Dane and instantly felt the loss. There was a knowledge that she was stuck on a man who had none of what David Young had; none of the easy charm, even temper or pleasing temperament. Dane was difficult. How could she be stuck on someone so difficult? Especially someone she vowed she wouldn’t stick herself with?
What the hell was she doing with Dane?
Beachcomber Valentine Page 4
