by Amie Denman
Not exactly the tool I had hoped for, but it did provide a practical solution. I nodded. “Let’s do it in the car.” Boy, that sounded pretty good.
I opened the driver’s door and Kurt went around to the passenger side. He almost had his foot in the door when I remembered the leak. “No,” I said. “Backseat!”
I was shouting over the rain, so it sounded more like an order than an invitation. Kurt looked at me curiously, but switched to the back door and slid in next to me. I hadn’t been in the backseat of a car with a man in a long time. The pouring rain streaming down the windows afforded us a degree of privacy—especially since everyone else had cleared the lot as fast as they could—and I was thinking that a layer of steam would add to the intimacy and turn this into the best experience I’d ever had in this highly disappointing little beast of a car.
“Big leak in the front seat. Your pants would be soaked,” I explained.
“Thanks.” Kurt grinned at me and for a crazed moment I thought he was going to try for a base. I’d have let him. Instead, he opened the keypad of his cell phone.
“Have you memorized the tow truck’s number?”
“Occupational advantage. We get called out on wrecks all the time and usually hang around and help the tow truck drivers clear the scene. Gasoline on the road could spark a fire, you know.”
He dialed and I listened as the driver picked up and Kurt explained the situation. Towing on a Sunday. This was going to cost me.
As soon as he stowed his “tool” on his waistband, a wave of heat rose up my body from the mud brown vinyl seat, over my middle, up my neck, all the way to the tips of my ears. I knew I must have flushed and thought I could be in danger of spontaneous combustion. Of course, Kurt would know what to do about that, and maybe it would be a good thing if the old Honda burst into flames. My insurance might total it out and I’d get something a little nicer.
Our gazes met and I wondered what he was thinking. Despite being forced to go to church, having absolute car failure and standing in the pouring rain while my fellow Christians fled the parking lot like rats leaving a sinking ship, my thoughts were on the positive side. From the look in Kurt’s eyes and the intensity with which he stared at me with his mouth open a little, I hoped he was feeling like a happy ending was within reach too.
Too much within reach, actually. I would have gone for a full lip plant, but as I leaned in his direction, a glint of movement caught my eye. The rain had slowed and a random ray of sunshine found the statue by the door of the church. A classic Catholic church statue, the Virgin Mary depicted in white alabaster kindly laying her hand on the head of a young Jesus. Nothing frightening…usually.
This time, however, the Virgin Mary herself was sending me a message as she stood there, glistening from the rain and glowing in the streak of gold that escaped the clouds. I listened for ethereal organ music and harps playing. Instead, I heard the sound of Kurt’s breathing about two inches from my ear.
Shit. I couldn’t kiss him now. He was spoken for by the Virgin Mary and her accomplice. I’d been flirting with hell for years now, but this would be throwing it in the face of a potentially merciful God. The glowing Mary statue seemed to be saying, Jazz, you slut, keep your mitts off that man or you’ll be sharing a room in hell with your ex-husband.
I pulled back to my side of the seat, gratified to note that Kurt looked surprised and disappointed. Would he have let me kiss him and put my hands all over that hard body? Hmm. Better not think like that. Not if he was really going to marry the mayor’s daughter.
Then again, if he kissed me, he’d be the slut and I’d be an innocent bystander. Of course, I couldn’t help but remember what Marlena had said about his family’s anxiety to get him safely settled down. Maybe they’d let him settle down with a nice schoolteacher instead of the wealthy and well-connected Virgin Mary. Especially if said virgin’s father turned out to be a rotten crook. For the very first time, Balcheski’s request seemed like it could turn into a personal mission. Expose the mayor, send the holy family packing and make Kurt mine.
Imagining Kurt as my personal property was definitely too sexy for me to handle, so I tried to fill the silence by loudly taking off the borrowed jacket. The slippery windbreaker material was really wet, and being in a confined space didn’t help much. When I finally extricated myself, I was winded from the effort.
“Jazz,” Kurt said. It was just one word, but considering that he was panting too, and looking alternately at my wet shirt and my flushed face made me think it meant a whole lot more. I didn’t have time to consider its meaning because he grabbed my upper arms in both of his big hands and kissed me full on the mouth. I surrendered immediately and unconditionally. Why fight it? I laid back against the door on my side of the car and prepared for bliss as he moved over me.
A violent flashing outside the car window didn’t even register at first through my half-closed eyes. The next second, though, I sat bolt upright in panicked fear that the Virgin Mary statue was flashing angry red lightning at me in retribution for considering screwing Kurt Reynolds in the backseat of my broken-down car in the church parking lot. Guess I couldn’t blame her. Kurt’s face was full startle and I heard knocking on the door of the car. Paralyzed with astonishment and fear, I tried to rationalize. Surely the Virgin Mary wouldn’t knock if she wanted my ass.
Kurt leaned over top of me and pulled the door latch. I nearly fell out of the car, both disappointed and relieved that it was not the Virgin Mary but the tow truck driver. He wore loose gray sweats, an ancient Cleveland Browns T-shirt that was missing the sleeves and a filthy green hat advertising Skoal chewing tobacco. Clearly this man had not been in church on this fine Sunday and hadn’t bothered to shave for at least three days. I could definitely sympathize with those priorities.
“Thanks for hurrying, Mac,” Kurt said wryly.
“Want me to come back later?”
“Yep.” Kurt pulled the door shut. He planted one more long kiss on my mouth before he drew back and smiled ruefully at me.
“Sorry, Jazz,” he said as he reached over and again opened the door.
Mac was still trying to pretend to look at something very interesting on the black asphalt of the parking lot.
“I give up. Take her away,” Kurt said.
I must have given him a strange look because he quickly added, “The car, I mean.”
Mac loaded up my worthless car and I climbed into the tow truck between him and Kurt. Not a fun man-sandwich, but it was the only way. Guys don’t sit next to each other anywhere there’s a remote chance of their thighs touching. Cars, movie theaters, sports events, church—all were subject to the rule. Harry was the notable exception. He would have loved being in my place.
I gave Mac my address and barely had time to enjoy rubbing thighs with the guys before we were in front of the two-story white house shining in a brief glimmer of sun that followed the drenching rain. Harry lounged on the front porch watching the water drip off the gutters and appeared only a little surprised when the tow truck pulled up. I’d been towed last week too. This time, though, the car wasn’t coming home with me.
Kurt gave me a confused look as he got out the passenger side door to let me out. “I figured you lived alone.”
I could have relieved his curiosity quickly and easily by saying, I live with my cousin who is checking out your ass right now, but I didn’t. Kurt had left me to speculate on his relationship with the Virgin Mary and sent me about two thousand mixed signals in the short time I’d known him. What was I supposed to think about that amazing kissing that, for the record, he had initiated? Did he really like me or did he just want a hot fling as an antidote to the virginal supposed fiancée? Christ, I didn’t need help getting a reputation as a slut. The boobs and the name put me in constant danger of that.
Had anyone seen us in the parking lot? If I had to wonder about all these things, he would have to wonder—at least for a little while—who that man on my front porch was.
&nb
sp; I decided on a true, but cryptic explanation. “I live with Harry,” I said as I stepped down and headed up the narrow sidewalk that divided the front lawn into perfect squares. I’d only gone a few steps when I remembered that Kurt had stood in the rain with me when everyone else had driven away. He’d even pretended to know how to fix my car and risked his manliness by admitting he had no idea. Hadn’t he called a speedy tow truck for me instead of leaving me abandoned and alone? I couldn’t be mean.
“Thanks, Kurt. I really appreciate your help today.”
He brightened a little, so I decided to kick in a small bonus. “I appreciated everything.”
I turned around in what I hoped was a movie star exit and finished walking to the house I shared with a man wearing hot pink fuzzy slippers and drinking coffee out of a cup that said Treat Me Like a Queen and I’ll Be Your Slave. If Kurt noticed either of those things as the tow truck drove away, he’d have either a lot more or a lot less to wonder about.
Chapter Nine
Despite the roller coaster morning, my head had a chance to clear and the sky continued to brighten as I rode my bike to the marina. Marlena probably wouldn’t be in on a Sunday and next weekend was when things really started to heat up. She needed time to keep those nails in shape, and I didn’t think I’d mind the solitude at the store. It was only for a few hours anyway.
Perhaps I could review the backseat scene about half a million times and make some sense of it. Or at least enjoy going over the good parts as much as I could in public. There had been some very good parts despite the optical interference of the Virgin Mary. I wondered what the story was on the supposed girlfriend. We hadn’t quite gotten to that between calls to the tow truck and full-on-the-lips kissing in the cramped, slightly damp backseat of my usually uninspiring Honda. Perhaps I owed the car an apology for all the times I’d lamented its treasonous behavior. Today, it had definitely been on my side.
Maybe I was making a little progress on my current romantic obsession, or maybe I was making it worse. I hadn’t made any progress on the whole mayor-Cerberus-missing money triangle, but I had to give myself a break. I hadn’t even been on the case for twenty-four hours yet. And I had managed to keep the secret all this time already.
Secrecy mattered in this case. After all, one didn’t go around accusing the town mayor of embezzling money. Especially when you basically worked for him like Balcheski did. The chief had one thing right about me: I paid attention to details and was pretty decent at figuring things out. Mostly because I tended to be a little like a bulldog—when I grabbed hold of something, I didn’t like letting go.
That personality trait made it difficult for me to put the incident with Kurt out of my head. I’d sure like to grab a hold of him, maybe even with my teeth, but I needed to figure a few things out first. Like why he got out of a dry car for me in the flooded church parking lot, what exactly his relationship was with the Virgin Mary and what he had in mind for me.
A slow shiver ran down my back. If Kurt was so close to Mary’s family, did he already know about the embezzlement? He certainly had to wonder why his department was losing money and why the mayor seemed to have money to spare. Kurt couldn’t fix Honda engines, but he seemed pretty smart in other ways. Maybe getting close to him would further my investigation. I was doing it for God and country. Not that I would apply the same philosophy to Damien Cerberus. Getting close to him? Not so appealing.
Focus. I restocked shelves in the marina store and tried to decipher Marlena’s creative bookkeeping. If I was going to help Balcheski, I needed to stay focused and close-mouthed. The truth was that I hated secrets and wasn’t great at keeping them. No doubt, I’d crack under scrutiny and someone would torture my secrets out of me with half a bottle of wine and a dull corkscrew. I couldn’t even breathe a word to Harry or my parents tonight at dinner. I started hoping for a quick resolution to the whole thing before it made me a mental wreck and ruined what should be a peaceful summer punctuated only by constant lusting after a six-foot blue-eyed man who knew how to handle a hose.
The cheerful bell over the shop door jingled, and I looked up, hoping for hottie fireman. What I got was Damien Cerberus. He walked straight to me and leaned both elbows on the counter. Though exactly what Kurt had done only a week or so ago, it had the opposite effect. I wasn’t brave enough to take a big step backward, but I didn’t want to be that close to him. The few sentences I’d heard of the argument in the parking lot had convinced me this man could be dangerous. And so could the mayor.
“Mr. Cerberus,” I said.
“So you know my name, Jazz Shepherd.”
I laughed nervously. “Your boat is docked here and I do the paperwork.”
“What a disappointment. I thought for a moment that you might have taken a personal interest in me.”
I let that slide without saying anything. Focusing on breathing and staying cool took all my attention.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he continued.
“Me?”
“I have a proposal for you.”
Holy shit. He knew I’d overheard his fight with Ballard and was going to offer me a huge bribe to keep my mouth shut. Or kill me. I hoped for a bribe because financial solvency outranked death any day.
“A proposal?” My mouth was so dry I thought I might crack my lip open if I tried to smile.
“You’re an attractive woman, Jazz. I can hardly take my eyes off you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, hoping his eyes were the only thing he planned to touch me with.
He leaned closer and stared at my boobs. “Your…endowments could be mutually profitable for you and me.”
“Profitable?”
“I’m planning an event at my marina in about two weeks. A boat show, some food and wine, and perhaps a big announcement.”
“And you want me to…”
“Be a boat hostess. Mingle. Wealthy men who might want to invest in a new boat or my next project like to have a little personal attention from an attractive woman.”
Marlena had mentioned the show. I should want to work it. I could make some money and help Balcheski’s investigation. The sight of Cerberus’s arms on the counter, his hand toying with a set of boat keys, made me want to say no. I didn’t want him toying with me.
“A boat hostess,” I repeated.
He brushed a lock of hair off my shoulder. His fingers grazed my collarbone and I shivered.
“I wouldn’t mind a little attention from you myself.”
“What exactly would I have to do?”
“Well, I guess that depends on whether or not we’re alone.” He ran his finger down my cheek, and I mustered all my courage not to flinch.
“I mean at your marina. Your big party.”
“Just look beautiful, be friendly, open a bottle of wine when it seems right.”
Nothing seemed right about this to me. I hesitated. This was a perfect opportunity to do what Balcheski asked me to do. Get close to Cerberus. Get in his business. But at what price?
“What does this job pay?”
“Now you’re speaking my language. The pay is negotiable, but very generous.”
“I’ll have to think about it.”
“I’ll be waiting. But I’ll warn you. I don’t like taking no for an answer.”
I closed shop a half hour early and considered putting a note of explanation on the glass, but I decided against it. What the hell? The only person I’d seen all afternoon was Cerberus. The weather had vacillated between pouring rain, blinding sunshine and heavy clouds just waiting for the opportunity to spill their guts. No harm in locking up the store early in a deserted marina on a Sunday like this.
I went out back to get my bike for the two-mile trek home, only to discover that the gods of transportation were not only against me, they were having a hell of a time dangling me over a pit of flames. Probably taking bets to see if and when I would snap. A dead Honda and a man-sandwich ride in a tow truck had made up my morning, and now a fl
at bike tire was rounding off the afternoon.
I glanced up at the gray skies and tried to gauge how long it would take to walk the wounded bike home. Two miles wasn’t far, but walking a bike with a tire flapping on the rim is definitely not for beginners. I threw in the towel and went back in the store to call Harry. His phone rang about fifteen times with no answer. I dialed again in case I’d had the wrong number. I let it ring twenty-five times just for good measure before realizing that the transportation gods had fixed that one too.
Outside, I put up the kickstand and started to walk. Every couple of steps, the pedals came around and nicked my ankle. It hurt like hell and did nothing to improve my mood. After the first half mile or so, I felt experimental so I decided to try to walk on the other side of the bike. Going with the left-handed option didn’t work out so well, but I did get a more even nicking of my ankles.
The road got lonely as I headed out of town toward where Harry lived on the fringes. Because of Balcheski’s visit last night and the offer from Cerberus today, the sound of a truck moving slowly behind me put me on edge. It stopped once and the door slammed before it started again. Maybe the embezzlers were going to wipe me out before I had a chance to solve the crime. If they even knew I existed.
A cold shiver ran over me. I thought of the girl who had died in the fiery crash. The friend of the mayor’s daughter. An article in the paper said she had worked as a clerk in the mayor’s office. Maybe…and I didn’t even want to have this thought…maybe that poor girl had known too much? Maybe the accident wasn’t an accident at all. Great. Now cold fear coursed through my veins and I thought I might have to stop and throw up in the bushes. I started scooting along faster.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shiny front bumper of a truck pulling alongside me, but I refused to look at it directly. I kept my eyes ahead, scurrying as fast as my short legs would take me with my bike as a dance partner. I heard the window roll down and prepared myself to die.
