by Jody Wallace
We both studied my slippers, a gift from Dan, holiday booties with fluff around the tops.
John rubbed his mouth with one hand. “Yes, you are,” he agreed.
How could he not have noticed? I stamped like a horse, and the jingle bell on the bow tinkled. “Sensible and jolly.”
“That explains the ringing in my ears.” John smiled, the first he’d managed all night.
“Your talent is smelling stuff, not hearing. It’s okay.”
“Cleo,” John said, his shoulders finally relaxing, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I promise I won’t.” I hoped it was true. “If I feel any muscle spasms, we’ll call someone. I bet Sam and Alex are at Merlin’s playing pool.” Alex would be here like buckshot for the chance to recruit me some more. No matter how many times I saw him, he never let it go.
John’s smirk darkened into a frown. “Only as a last resort.”
“Two birds, one stone—I can ask Alex if he knows about Pavarti.”
“He doesn’t.”
I wanted to ask how John was so sure, but I didn’t force the issue. I didn’t like the sonuva, either. “Who from work lives around here?”
“Beau,” John said.
“Not a chance.” Who else could we call if I couldn’t handle that monster of a headboard? “Lou has family here, but I’ve only met her uncle Herman, and he’s ninety. I could ask the security guard who likes me.”
“Bad idea. He’ll think you owe him.” John tugged at the headboard, which was wrapped in thin foam and plastic. “Don’t put yourself in a position where a guy thinks you owe him.”
Funny thing for him to say. “What do I owe you after tonight?”
“Nothing.” He scowled and yanked; the headboard shot halfway out of the truck.
“Rooster might feel the same way.” I pulled my cell phone out of the capacious pocket of my khaki shorts. “He gave me his pager number and told me to buzz him anytime.”
“Rooster. That’s his name?”
“Who are you, my dad? Well, you already know what Rooster does for a living.”
“Cleo, it’s an unusual name. Grab the other end.”
I did. Rather, I tried to.
It was too heavy.
Chapter 10
You’ll Thank Me Later
Alex and Samantha pulled up twenty minutes later in Alex’s black Porsche. We waited on John’s tailgate and sipped our respective beverages—soda for me, bottled water for him—without speaking.
“Ladies,” Alex said, “how can I be of service?”
John didn’t say anything, so I said, “This won’t take five minutes.” I hopped off the tailgate, still in my shorts and slippers, and pointed at the headboard balanced against the truck. “It’s too heavy for me.”
Alex squeezed his large self out of his small car and swung his arms back and forth, crossing them over his chest and pressing his elbows. His gaze trailed down my frame and stopped at the knees, which wasn’t what snagged most men.
“Gotta loosen up,” he explained. “Wouldn’t want to hurt myself.”
“Speaking of injuries, do you know anything about what happened to Pavarti Singh?”
“Nope.” Alex smiled, his teeth twinkling with honesty. “I’m a consultant, not a terrorist.”
Samantha crossed behind the sports car and halted beside me, glancing between John and myself. Then she inspected my attire. “Having a nice...date?”
John had to have heard, but he didn’t react.
“I fell on the stairs.” I smoothed my hands down my wrinkled shorts.
“Were you in a rush to put your bed together?”
I wished I could tell her to shut up, but that would reveal how much I cared. “I hope we can get it finished tonight. I’ve been sleeping on the couch.”
“At your place?”
“Of course I sleep at my place.” She would not get a reaction out of me. “I went to see my stepfather one weekend, but otherwise I’ve been here.”
Alex and John lifted the headboard with, I was happy to see, enough strain that I didn’t feel like a gimp for my inability to do the same.
“I’ll get the door.” I hurried up the stairs to my apartment. Samantha followed. As soon as we were out of earshot, she grabbed my arm and said, “So how is he?”
“Hands to yourself.” I yanked away before she could affect me. She’d have more friends if she limited herself to business-related pushing. “John’s annoyed that I called you.”
“No, I mean how is he in bed? Have you slept with him yet?”
“None of your business.” Why would she ask that when she’d mocked me for calling the furniture moving expedition a date two days ago? I could hear John and Alex thumping up the stairs. “I didn’t know who else to ask for help.”
“How about the furniture delivery guys?” she suggested with an arch expression. “You’d have better luck with them in several ways. Everyone at the office has been laughing at you. You’re not going to get anywhere with him. Nobody ever does.”
“Samantha,” I said, focusing on her shadow mask, “why do you bother to lie to me?”
“Ah, but which part of what I said is a lie?”
“I read lips,” I reminded her. “I know.” There’d been no lip movement, but nobody at work was laughing at me. That, I would have figured out. Some were annoyed because I was nosy—like my “friend” Sheila—but that was the extent of it.
Interrupting our pleasant discussion, the door to 2G opened and Lou’s Uncle Herman popped his head out. His white hair stood on end like Albert Einstein, whom everyone believed had been a supra but it was more urban myth than fact. “What’s all the damn racket, Cleopatra?”
“I’m moving some furniture. Sorry, Herman. We’ll keep it down.”
“See that you do. I’m trying to concentrate.” The door slammed, and we entered my apartment, waiting for the last piece of bed.
“He’s one to talk about making a racket,” I muttered to Samantha. “The man listens to his television as if he were completely deaf, and I know for a fact he’s only half deaf.”
“He’s a supra, isn’t he?” Samantha asked. “He looks familiar.”
“I have no idea, but he is Lou’s uncle.” John and Alex trooped through the door, and I pointed at the bedroom for Alex’s benefit. “In there.”
“Do you have tools so we can put it together?” he asked.
“I’ll get them.” I had a pastel toolset under the kitchen sink, which Dan had given me when I’d gotten my first place. I handed it to John. Samantha and I watched as the two men navigated the politics of who got to hold the pink screwdriver.
“If only they’d take off their shirts,” Samantha said, so quietly only I could hear. This was, of course, assuming Alex didn’t have Alfonso ears.
I firmed my lips so I wouldn’t laugh.
“I know you want him,” she said. “Don’t you remember telling me Thursday?”
I hadn’t said those exact words. “Shut it.”
She leaned closer until our arms brushed. “He’s never dated anybody at YuriCorp.”
Why was she gossiping? Was she trying to bond? Women as pretty as Samantha often had trouble befriending other women. She hadn’t made any close friends at work—almost the opposite. Maybe she was bad at overtures.
I melted, just a little. “How do you know?”
“People tell me things.”
“I bet they do.” John lost the battle for the screwdriver, so he held the headboard steady while Alex crawled around and secured the frame. “I’m sure you’re great at keeping secrets.”
“Yep.” Our arms bumped again. “Got any?”
“Not really.” Alex had a great ass. I’d never seen him out of a suit. Too bad he was a jerk. And dating Samantha. And a liar. “What, um, do you hear about what a person should do if she were interested in John?”
“Are you?”
“No.” I’d vowed to leave John alone less than an hour ago, but if his bice
ps bulged under the mass of the headboard much longer, that could change. I found myself licking my bottom lip as I watched him be manly. “He’s pretty hot, though.”
“And?”
I shook myself out of my lust-haze. “One of the security guys here asked me out. I might go.” As long as it didn’t involve squirrels.
“You should get with John. Get him to drop his guard. You know. For the job.”
I turned and stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” She smiled. “He seems lonely.”
The guys finished the headboard and attached the footboard to the frame. I inched away from Samantha. By the time my bed was in one piece, we were several feet apart. I didn’t want John to suspect what we’d been talking about.
“I appreciate your help,” I said to everyone. “I’ll sleep better at night, thanks to you.”
We all went into the living room. As Samantha slipped past me, she whispered, “You can thank me later.”
Alex paused by the door. “I didn’t see your cats. I’ve heard so much about them.”
“I locked them in the bathroom.” If I’d thought of that before John and I had carried the footboard upstairs, I wouldn’t be minus a pair of cute shoes right now.
“Maybe next time,” Alex said. I hadn’t planned on any next times, but I kept my mouth shut since he’d just done me a favor. “Samantha and I have to go.”
John checked his watch. “It’s late. I should be going, too.”
Samantha sidled up to him and covered his watch with her palm. “Don’t be such a fuddy duddy. You don’t work for Baumhauser, do you, John?”
John stiffened. “Why would you say that?”
“You’re too young to head home before nine on a Saturday night.” She let him peek at the watch before she re-covered it, her fingers gripping his wrist. “Cleo doesn’t know anyone in town. Don’t be mean and leave her all alone.”
A bit thick. I could’ve had a companion tonight. Rooster, among others. I could have stayed with Beau and been chided for my lack of skills. Could have gone to sit with Pavarti. But the companion I’d wanted was John.
John glanced at me, expelled a breath, and laughed. “I suppose you’re right.”
Samantha got the laugh I’d been angling for all night? I should have worked the “poor lonely me” angle earlier instead of bringing up Rooster.
“You and Cleo should watch something on her very big TV,” Samantha said. “Maybe the finale of Hero Wars. Didn’t you say you forgot to record it?”
“I did,” John said. “Cleo, do you still have it on your DVR?”
“Yeahhh.” I wasn’t sure what was going on, but if it meant John wasn’t going to rush away like his hair was on fire, I was willing to roll with it.
“Sam, butt out and let’s go.” Alex looked across the room at me until I looked back, whereupon he shot me a rueful grin. “See you later, Cleopatra.”
“Thanks again,” I said as they left. I didn’t add that I owed them. No need for the unpleasant reminder.
“Do I smell brownies?” John asked.
“You do.” He followed me into the kitchen, where I removed aluminum foil from my baking dish. “Fresh baked this morning.” I’d gotten up early to prepare them.
I reached for a cake knife and bumped into John, who was unaccountably close, his eyes trained on my face.
“You did suggest dessert,” he said, proving he’d been paying attention. But then, he had to pay attention in order to avoid topics he didn’t want to discuss. “Did you make these for me?”
If I said yes, it might hint at my premeditated seduction. “They’re for Pavarti, but you can have a few to take home. Is that better than twenty bucks and a tank of gas?”
“Yes.” He watched me slice the brownies into rows, the edges crinkling. “I’d like one now.”
“Do you want it warmed up in the microwave?”
“Sounds good.”
“Ice cream?”
John filled his lungs with brownie-scented air. “Yesss,” he said on the exhale.
“Chocolate syrup? Whipped cream?”
John leaned down and kissed me, his lips quick and warm against mine. Startled, I backed up, but the countertop was behind me. My mouth tingled.
Holding my gaze, John reached down and pinched off a bite of brownie. He ate it and licked his fingers. “I like brownies a lot.”
“I guess you do.” Where the hell had that come from? “Why did you just kiss me?”
In response, he tilted my chin up and bent to kiss me again. I closed my eyes.
Then, nothing. I opened my eyes. He’d halted an inch away.
“Because I’ve wanted to since I met you,” he said. Chocolate breath tickled my lips. He shifted his body closer to mine until we touched in some significant areas. “Cleo, you have a lovely flavor.”
“When you met me, you wanted to sample my DNA.”
“Yes.” He smiled. “I also wanted to kiss you.”
Samantha had intimated that, to catalogue DNA, John needed to delve deeper than a peck on the lips. His face brushed my cheek as he bent to smell my hair, the hollows of my neck. Hot breath puffed across my skin. When his tongue flicked out, tasting, shivers zinged from my head to my toes. His hand curved against the small of my back and brought me firmly against him.
Oh, my. He really, really liked brownies.
As delightful as this was, John’s actions didn’t feel in character. John had undergone a transformation when...
“John, Samantha pushed you.”
“I don’t think so.” He nibbled up my neck, and when he reached my ear, my knees threatened to buckle. “You’re sweet and salty, like kettle corn.”
“When she hid your watch from you, she touched your wrist. I think she pushed me, too.” I’d confessed how attractive I found John, and I’d never have told her that normally. Good Lord, what had she hoped to achieve? If I couldn’t attract him myself, I sure as hell didn’t want her infusing him with fake lust.
“Right. I’m sorry, Cleo.” He drew away from me and cursed under his breath before he stalked into the other room.
“You don’t have to act horrified,” I yelled while I leaned on the counter and regained control of my knees. My poor, scraped up, trembly knees. “I won’t force you to marry me because my honor has been compromised.”
Damn Samantha! I was going to kill her Monday. John and I needed a distraction, bad. I prepared the brownies, sans whipped cream and chocolate syrup.
“Are you still here, John?”
He didn’t respond. I hadn’t heard the door, so he hadn’t dashed into the street, tearing his hair in remorse. I toted the dessert to the living room, where he stood gazing out the darkened window.
“You still want a brownie?” I asked. “I’m having one.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t look at me, but he accepted the plate.
The sound of our forks against the saucers and the tick of my grandmother clock were the only noises in the apartment. The cats must have fallen asleep.
“Why did Samantha do that to us?” I asked, once I’d reached the last few bites. It might be safer to let him think she’d pushed the hornies on me as well.
“Who knows?” He took a bite of brownie, and his lips tightened on the fork. After he swallowed, he added darkly, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Can she be, I don’t know, censored for using her powers to do evil?” I’d demanded she stop with the pushing after our site visit, and she’d lasted two days. Were her deviousness and her relationship with a creepy Psytecher indicators she wasn’t to be trusted on a grander scale?
Like, say, with corporate secrets?
John set his plate on an empty curio table. I could see his countenance reflected in the glass. “It’s hard to prove, and there are no official sanctions for it. I should have known better.”
Known better than to kiss me? “This isn’t a big deal, John. We didn’t do anything I regret.” A lie—I regretted t
hat we hadn’t kissed more.
“I appreciate that you aren’t angry with me for taking advantage of you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” If he played the hangdog much longer, I was going to slap him out of it. “I coerced you into helping me move furniture. Who’s taking advantage of whom?”
“Cleo, I won’t try to lie to you,” he said. Which one of us was he trying to convince? “I’m attracted to you, but we work together. It wouldn’t be smart.”
“Everyone at work bed hops like fleas.” I felt a pout overtake my face and concealed it by sticking my fork in my mouth.
“I’m not everyone. Neither are you. I won’t be shoved into something because Samantha tricked us.”
He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know—thought I was cute, didn’t want to go there. “Maybe she figured she was doing us a favor.”
“She doesn’t do anybody any favors.” John sighed. “You’re a great girl, Cleo. I just can’t do this right now.”
A great girl. Damning words. Damning and not particularly accurate words since had a rare showing of shadow mask along with them.
Was I not great? Or did Samantha do favors for somebody?
I let it go. John, who left shortly thereafter, was obviously upset by tonight’s revelations, and I had to decide how I was going to deal with Samantha.
There might not be a supra police force to report her to, but it was my job to expose untrustworthy YuriCorpers. I was far from helpless in the jungle of office politics. What else did I need to find out about her before I went to Yuri?
Chapter 11
Revenge Is For Losers With No Friends
Lou snagged me as soon as I walked through the door on Monday. “Yuri wants to talk to you.”
I wasn’t ready to talk to Yuri. I needed more ammo on Sam. “I’ll go see him after I—” Kick Samantha’s treacherous butt.
“He said as soon as you got in.” The phone rang, and she picked it up. “YuriCorp. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. No, I don’t think so, let me ask.” She cupped her hand over the phone. “Uncle Herman wants to know if you have a headache.”
“Why?” After warning me to keep the racket down during my furniture fiasco, Herman had blasted the TV all day Sunday. He’d found a Star Wars marathon from the sound of it.
