The easy answer was that she was his partner—they worked well together—understatement. They respected and trusted each other implicitly as working partners and you didn’t just throw that away. And she liked him. They were friends. She cared about him as a friend.
Weren’t those good enough reasons to stick with Dane?
Yes—but only if she could unstick the romantic notions. She needed a date.
She needed a romantic Valentine’s Day date. It was the sane, right, smart thing to do.
She would talk to Cap when they got back to the island.
They stepped out through the door of police headquarters, back outside into the sunny cold afternoon.
“Looks like we need a room at the inn after all,” Dane said. He didn’t sound disappointed or apprehensive—like she felt.
“Two rooms.”
“Come now—surely you don’t want to waste a few hundred bucks for propriety’s sake. You know you can trust me to keep to my side of the bed.” He showed one irresistible dimple.
She knew—was one hundred percent certain—that he was teasing. She even found it funny on some level, she might even laugh. Except her pulse spurted and her gut spurted and anxiety pounded and her heart sped up. If she didn’t chill she’d be breaking out in a sweat. But she needed desperately to keep her cool. She didn’t want to test their relationship tonight. She wasn’t up for it, couldn’t stand to find out what might happen or not happen. Not knowing was preferable to knowing right now. Maybe forever. She wanted to stay right where she was on her fence between possibilities and impossibilities.
She said, “It’s not you I don’t trust. I don’t trust myself not to jump you in the middle of the night. After all, you’re frickin’ Dane the legend and I’m poor little Shana George. What chance do I have of resisting you? You and your too cool to scare attitude, your killer eyes and killer instincts…”
He’d smiled at first, chuckled with amusement. But she’d gone on a beat too long and overdone it so it was too obvious she was anxious. Too anxious to control her mouth properly.
So he didn’t taunt her with a comeback and she simmered, feeling vulnerable, wishing he had.
He draped an arm around her, casually, protectively. It almost made her cry but she didn’t dare shrug him off. She determinedly clung to her fence and marched forward, back to the hotel.
To spend the night together with Dane. The one man on the planet she’d sworn never to get romantically involved with again.
And the one man that tempted her past her considerable ice queen defenses.
“You paint quite a picture. I ought to hire you for PR.”
“As if you need any more PR.” She was in for the whole pound now.
“Come on, Shana. Snap out of it. Where’s all your fight? You can’t let a little Valentine’s Day bet defeat you after all we’ve been through.”
She looked at him to see the teasing glint in his eyes. And that sad weary look right behind and realized he was counting on her to keep up her end, to buoy him. So she smiled back.
“You know I was kidding, right?”
He laughed out loud and real and it was gratifying because of its rarity—at least in her experience, in her presence. She lived for those moments she realized now, to lighten his load, to lift his spirits and hers were lifted immeasurably at the same time.
“Good. Now that we have that straight, let’s go make sure we can get a room with two beds or you’ll be sleeping on the floor. And I don’t want to have to worry about your old-man back giving out if we happen upon any bad guys.”
“That’s right. They’re lurking around every corner in this city.” He glanced around as if he meant it. And maybe he did mean it.
Chapter 8
As expected, Patty Baker was either up for the adventure or needed a vacation. Dane wasn’t sure which factor had decided it for her, but she phoned him at five—before they had a chance to leave for dinner—and told him she was coming with them back to the island. He lay back into the abundance of pillows on one of the two beds in their hotel room, feet crossed in front of him, Shana towering over him, watching him with hands on her hips. He spoke into his cell phone to the no longer lost Patty Baker.
“You sure? I—We can come back in five days and pick you up so you don’t have to stay on an empty cold island twiddling your thumbs getting anxious about your mystery date.” Dane purposely prodded her to give away something, anything that might give a clue to the identity of their client.
Shana hit him on the leg. Presumably because he appeared to be taking over the case with his conversation with the enigmatic Ms. Baker. She was more than a little annoyed that Patty called his cell phone even though they’d both given her their cards. Shana had obviously made the wrong assumption that the woman would maintain contact with her, overestimating the woman-to-woman connection.
He knew better. He got that vibe. But he also knew better than to share this feeling with Shana the beautiful. His little Shana was very competitive—in the extreme—part of what made her so much fun. But he didn’t need her competing with their subject for his attention. Bad enough she was competing with him for their subject’s attention.
“Don’t worry about me,” Patty said. His dislike for her grew. “You and Shana hold up your part of the bargain to protect me—not that I think I’ll need it—and I’ll be fine. I’d like to look around and unwind. Besides, I have the kind of job that I can do anywhere.”
“And what kind of job is that?”
“I’m a writer. I write biographies. I’ll take my current project with me and be very happy with the change of scenery.”
“Won’t anyone miss you?” He wasn’t sure about her and he was looking out for his client’s best interests in case he was a lonely besotted fool with money. He didn’t want the poor guy taken advantage of by some opportunistic woman with a greedy boyfriend scheming to get some money out of the deal. Dane knew he was a cynic. He enjoyed it.
“Like I said, you let me worry about that.”
They ended the call and agreed to meet at Logan for a flight back to the Vineyard at eight a.m. the next morning. No Ed’s puddle jumper this time. Not that the plane out of Logan would be much bigger, but the company running the flight was bigger and so the airfare would be too.
Shana stood with her hands still on her hips and stared him down.
“Did you run a background check on this lady?” he asked, serious, although it was difficult to do since he wanted to tackle her and throw her onto her bed.
“Of course I did. She’s single. Lives alone. Makes a decent income if her address is any indicator. Drives a Mercedes S class. I didn’t dig any further. It didn’t seem necessary for our purposes. I figured we covered our client making sure she was single and had enough money of her own that she wouldn’t try and take advantage.”
He smiled without thinking, that rare spontaneous smile he got when she made him proud.
“Shana, you’re too adorable for your own good.”
“Too adorable for your own good you mean.” She turned and marched the two steps in the tiny room to the small desk and ripped open the laptop computer. With her back straight as a yardstick, she sat in the chair and started clacking away on the keyboard with her too long, dressed-up fingernails and all her attention focused on her task. Energy buzzed from her like a current. He felt it.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Shut up.”
“No. Serious.”
She let out a sigh deep enough to deflate some of the rigidity from her spine, then said, “I’m sending an email to our client. He asked us to report in when we made contact and let him know how it was going. You read the letter. With the instructions.”
“Sure. What are you telling him?”
“Nick off. Seriously.”
“Is it me?”
That got her to bow her head forward into her hands before se turned around. When she did, he grinned because she was smiling and he felt that smile bone
deep.
“It’s always you, you goddam pain—”
He threw a pillow at her and rose off the bed to follow in with something more intimate, less adolescent, when her phone rang.
“Shit,” he said, standing over her chair. He fisted the hand that had been itching to touch her hair, to run his fingers through the thick long waves of it.
She didn’t speak to him, but shuffled her phone from her bag and spoke to whoever was on the line—the person he wanted to throttle right about now.
“Chauncey!”
Damn. Anyone but Chauncey Miller. He was almost as happy to hear his name as Shana was.
It was better for him—the both of them—that they went out for the better part of the night. Ending up at The Last Hurrah in the hotel lobby, befittingly, David Young joined them. At two in the morning, they were both dead tired when they got back to the room. They both fell asleep within a very short time, knowing they’d need to get up again soon to meet Patty Baker.
Or so they thought.
Chapter 9
“Where the hell is she? We have less than five minutes to board the plane,” Shana said, tapping her foot, literally. She didn’t care how cliché it was—it was better than punching someone. Preferably someone named Patty Baker. She didn’t like that woman.
“I don’t like that woman. I got a bad vibe from the start in spite of her credentials.”
“I agree,” Dane said from behind his newspaper. “We’ll wait her out. We can take the next plane.”
“It’s not until two this afternoon. I checked.”
Dane let out a whistle. “That is a shame. It’s been a while since I was forced to eat lunch at an airport.”
“It’s not about lunch, you idiot.”
“Don’t worry—we still have over a grand left of the fee even after today’s expenses—you can keep the whole thing.”
“I don’t want your charity.”
“You’re so predictable.”
“So are you.” She may as well stick her tongue out at him. It was partly about the money, but not entirely. “What about our client? I already told him we found her and she agreed to come back. His reply email was very excited. Now he’ll be all disappointed.”
“You don’t even know this guy.”
“I have a feeling we do know him. And I’d feel for him anyway.”
Dane put his paper down, so she sat—or let herself fall in a heap—in the chair next to him.
It would be so easy to lean in and put her head on his shoulder. Or seemingly easy. If you didn’t mind a prickly bush for a pillow. He’d push her away in a short while. Or she’d push him away in anticipation of him pushing her away.
They did a lot of pushing and pulling and it was exhausting. She needed a rest right now. But then she glanced around and saw a Valentine’s Day display across the aisle at the Hudson News store and thought about their bet.
“You make any progress on your romantic Valentine’s date?” she asked.
“Now how the hell was I going to do that? I’ve been here with you the whole time, haven’t I?”
“I’ve made progress,” she exaggerated. She’d done nothing more than to make up her mind to ask Cap to be her date. And she wasn’t even sure if it was strictly kosher since he was the judge. But she figured it was the right move. Her only move. The only meaningful romantic prospect she had. She refused to count Billingsly as meaningful in the romance department.
“You’re lying. I’ve been watching you. Like a hawk.” He slid his arm around her and leaned into her and nuzzled her hair, breathing in. It was something he did now and then. She let him do it even though it made her stomach flip with shock and made her entire body warm up by a good four or five degrees. It was a very pleasant feeling, not tingly, but past that—a feeling of a different nonsexual kind.
“I’m not lying. You’ll see.”
“Looks like I better step up my game then. Maybe do some courting down at the Lucky Parrot.”
“Can’t. We eliminated Marylu Deluzio.”
“How do you know I was talking about her?”
It was the cool, almost threatening way he said the words that made her pull away and turn to face him. Not that she’d see anything in his expressionless face. It was his default expression, the face he normally wore—the bored one. Better that than the threatening one.
“I got other prospects.”
“Of course you do.” She relaxed herself and the spurt of surprise that sped up her pulse momentarily subsided. She held in a hiccup. Bad sign. She settled back down into him, needing the steadying warmth of him against her. He was here now, hers for now.
But he was right. He did have other prospects.
Too late for their nine a.m. flight, and too early for the two o’clock, Dane spotted Patty Baker on the horizon, hovering and searching—and accompanied by a man in a suit.
“Damn.” He sat up and dislodged Shana from her resting—napping—spot against him. He flexed his hand to get rid of the fuzzy pinpricks of numbness.
“What is it? Is she here?” Shana scrambled to an upright position, adjusting herself to rigid alertness with breathtaking speed. Not so fast that he didn’t catch her tousled sleepy sexy off-guard look—not so fast that his damn body didn’t react to the raw sensuality of her in that state.
“We should have done more checking on Patty’s background.” Dane nodded in the direction of their subject and her unexpected companion without being obvious. And Shana glanced that way also without being obvious, as she stretched.
Dane had to turn away. He stood to get his body back in control. Shana stretched her bold body awake, releasing her intoxicating scent and practically purring with sex. It was more than he could handle. If he’d been on his game he’d have stopped her from doing it altogether because she drew attention—of course.
“Shit—she’s with a suit. Do you suppose—”
“Yes. I peg him as a fed.”
“How do you—”
“We’ll find out if I’m right in a sec. She spotted us and they’re headed this way.”
Shana stood next to him and they watched Patty and her new friend close in on them.
“So sorry we’re late. It took me longer than I realized to make arrangements,” Patty said as she stopped in front of them with a perfect apologetic smile in place. Mr. Fed had no such smile. He made no pretense when he examined him and Shana as if they were suspected of a mass murder.
“This is Kyle Beck. Kyle, this is Dane—”
“I know exactly who he is—and Shana George too. Based on your reputations from last summer and then the case this past fall, you are the last two I expected to be working a lonely hearts case.”
Dane felt the suspicion as if the man had covered them in a net. Kyle was no charmer.
“Of course I’ve heard of you too, Kyle,” Dane lied. Kyle perked up.
“Really?” The man was looking to be convinced. He felt Shana’s eyes on him, her shift in movement next to him. He knew she’d take over and bail him out. She was the ultimate partner. Knew exactly what to do and when.
“Mr. Beck, I’m very pleased to meet you.” Shana stepped forward with a flashing, interested smile and her hand out to shake his. Of course Kyle was momentarily blinded by the intensity of Shana the sun goddess’s brilliance. “To what do we owe this privilege? Are you with Patty on business or pleasure?”
“All business, I’m afraid.” Kyle sounded reluctant, but Dane watched Shana turn up the wattage of her smile.
“Really? Then I hope we’re not interfering in anyway.”
“That’s still to be determined.”
“How can we reassure you?”
“You can actually help me out. Keep an eye on her while she’s on the island.”
“Of course, Kyle. We intended to do that.”
“No, I mean I want you to stay with her. I’ve arranged for adjoining rooms for you at the Charlotte Inn. Make sure she’s not disturbed by anyone—not even her myst
ery date, until Valentine’s Day. We’re kind of running a sting operation and Patty’s a player.”
“Oh, I see. Sounds important. Can you tell us anything about it?” Shana asked in a hushed voice and leaned in. Dane knew the intoxicating scent that Kyle was being subjected to right now and smirked—but only on the inside. Outwardly, he played along with a serious conspiratorial nod at Kyle.
“I can only say that it has to do with the auction of rare books. Patty is our expert. That’s all I can tell you, but I’m sure you can figure it out from there.”
True to his word, Kyle was closed-mouthed about the nature and scope of his case. He changed the subject. Naturally.
“Weather looks good. You should have a good flight to the Vineyard. Wish I was going along.”
“Are you sure you can’t join us? Surely you could find something—business-wise—to do on the island,” Shana said.
Kyle aimed a frown at Dane, “Not unless you two have something more going on than meets the eye.”
The FBI man smirked at him and Dane refused to give him anything. Two could play.
“So Dane Blaise the legend is working on finding people. That’s it—that’s all there is to it? You’re in retirement then? No more special—assignments?”
“I’m rolling with the stones. Tumbling with the weeds. I have a partner now and we’re taking it slow.” He pulled Shana against him and she leaned in, playing his support role like she meant it.
“Yes, Shana the Surfer Girl—that’s what they call you in the field. After last summer—”
“That’s all supposed to be classified, Special Agent Beck.” Shana said what Dane was about to say. It was scary sometimes the way they synched, especially in the presence of any outsider.
“Yes, well—we should see if we can make the next flight out,” Patty said. “I’m excited to get to the island and take a vacation from all the intrigue, truth be told.”
“So you’re really writing a book?” Shana asked.
Patty gave her an enthusiastic smile. Women. They always wanted to ruin the fun when the testosterone levels got pitched good and high. Somehow they knew the right moment to stick a pin in it all and deflate things.
Beachcomber Valentine Page 5
