Shayne: The Pretender

by JoAnn Ross

  “My sources tell me that the princess is more than a little generous,” Cunningham conceded. His eyes, which were two shades grayer than his steely crew cut, turned thoughtful as he looked into the depths of the amber liquor, as if searching for the answer to some problem that had been vexing him. “That guy must be dynamite in the sack.”

  Unbidden, an image of Bliss Fortune’s long legs wrapped around her ex-husband’s naked hips flashed in front of Shayne’s mind like a scene from a dirty movie. “What the hell brought that up?”

  “He can call himself a venture capitalist all he wants, but the truth is he’s nothing but a gigolo who had the good luck to be born with great looks. He reminds me of that actor—what’s his name—the one who looks like Redford that all the women are going nuts over these days?”

  “Brad Pitt.” Again Shayne felt an unpleasant tug of something that felt too damn much like jealousy for comfort. “I assume there’s a point to this?”

  “The point is, that even if the guy is scum, he’s damn good-looking scum. Add to that the fact that he’s got a reputation for international bed hopping and I’d say you’ve got a motive for Bliss Fortune to want him dead.”

  Shayne couldn’t believe this. “This isn’t a case of a woman scorned. She kicked him out when she discovered he’d been cheating on her.”

  “She could have decided he got off too easily, that he deserves more...punishment.” Cunningham grinned wickedly. “The nights are long down here in the South. And hot. She’s undoubtedly going to be ripe for a little action, so you shouldn’t have any problem keeping close to her. The only thing to worry about is whether you can come up to Fortune’s performance.”

  “Correction. The only thing I’m worried about is whether or not I could get drummed out of the service for planting my fist in the middle of my superior’s face.”

  “I’d say that’s a given.” Cunningham’s voice turned as steely as the rest of him. “We’ve already got the Fortune woman pegged as a thief and a smuggler. Now that it looks like she’s not above murder for hire, I thought I ought to warn you.”

  “Consider me warned,” Shayne snorted through clenched teeth.

  “Well, now that I’ve done my duty, I think I’ll wander over to Bourbon Street and take in a few of those nudie shows. I don’t suppose you’d feel like coming along?”

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “Your loss. But I guess you’ll want to get your beauty sleep. Before your lunch tomorrow with your lady friend.” When Shayne’s gaze hardened, the older man laughed. “Don’t forget, I know everything. Which is why I’d watch my back if I were you. Bliss Fortune may look as sweet as spun sugar, but we both know that looks are definitely deceiving. And although we’ve had our differences, O’Malley, I sure wouldn’t want you to end up like a black widow male on his wedding night.”

  Point made, he left Shayne to think about this latest news. And although he still believed Bliss was incapable of killing anyone, he also had to admit that revenge was a powerful motive.

  What if she’d hired someone to take her husband out? he wondered. It suddenly occurred to him that she might know more about him than he believed.

  What if their meeting hadn’t been entirely accidental? What if she’d been setting him up the same time he’d been setting her up? The idea, as improbable as it seemed, was not exactly impossible. After all, the old “Spy Vs Spy” comic strip that had run for years in Mad magazine depicted just such a ridiculous scenario.

  “What if she wants me to be the triggerman?”

  The moment he heard the words come out of his mouth, Shayne laughed. The idea was ludicrous.

  “But so is murder for hire in the first place,” he reminded himself.

  Swearing viciously, he went over to the window, opened the drapes, looked out on the famed City that Care Forgot, and wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into this time.

  FORTUNATELY, THE NEXT morning was busy in The Treasure Trove, which kept Bliss’s mind off her scheduled lunch date with Shayne Broussard and her eyes from constantly glancing down at her watch.

  A busload of German tourists had arrived at the French Quarter from the Hyatt and were going through their traveler’s checks as if they’d just received word that the world was going to end tomorrow and the person left with the most antiques would win.

  Wonderfully, unlike so many other customers, they also seemed to find dickering unnecessary. They not only willingly paid the sticker price, but readily agreed to whatever it cost to send their purchases back home.

  “Can you believe this?” Lilah Middleton, Bliss’s assistant, said as she wrapped up a Sheraton tea caddy painted with foliate swags. Although Bliss had suggested against it, the buyer had insisted on carrying this item home in his luggage. “It’s like the invasion of the Luftwaffe.”

  “It’s also going to pay this month’s rent,” Bliss answered under her breath as she wiped her damp forehead.

  Although the shop was air-conditioned, the ancient system was failing to keep up with the constant opening and closing of the door as customers streamed in and out of The Treasure Trove. The temperature outside was nearing ninety; Bliss suspected the crush of bodies was making the indoor temperature nearly as high.

  “So we should be grateful.” Bliss pulled out some more wrapping paper from beneath the counter, cursing inwardly as a small cannister rolled onto the floor. Thank goodness the pepper spray, which Michael and Zelda had insisted she keep handy, hadn’t self-detonated.

  “Oh, I’m not complaining,” Lilah said. “Actually it’s nice to be busy.” She glanced around the shop. “Oh, dear.”

  Bliss followed her gaze to a rotund woman with apple cheeks who was looking into the locked glass case of stuffed animals, checking out a turn-of-the-century Steiff plush teddy bear. “What’s wrong?”

  “I had a customer in the shop yesterday morning who was considering buying that bear. I promised to hold it for twenty-four hours, but then the phone rang, and I guess I forgot to put a Hold sign on it.”

  “Yesterday morning?”

  “A bit before lunch.”

  Bliss checked her watch. “Well, since it’s after noon, the deadline’s up.”

  “But this was a local,” Lilah said. “She mentioned living at Audubon Place.”

  “Oh.” That did, after all, make a big difference. The chances of the German lady ever returning were nil, unlike someone who lived in the gated, privileged environs of Audubon Place, where some of the most luxurious homes in the city were located. “Why don’t you finish ringing up this biscuit box and powder case and I’ll take care of it.”

  Bliss took the key for the case that housed the teddies from the cash register drawer, went out from behind the elaborately carved antique counter and approached the woman. “Welcome to The Treasure Trove,” she said with her brightest, most professional smile as she unlocked the case and took out the bear. “Do you have an interest in bears?”

  “Ya,” the woman answered, nodding enthusiastically. She stroked the brown plush fur, her appreciative gaze as bright as the stuffed animal’s boot button eyes.

  “I’m afraid this one has suffered some wear.”

  “That’s good.” The woman smiled. “It shows it was much loved.”

  Damn. Bliss had used that same argument to push a black bisque-headed baby doll just last week.

  “The growler doesn’t work,” she pointed out.

  “No matter.”

  From the way the woman continued to stroke the bear’s soft plush fur, Bliss knew she’d already fallen in love with it. Understanding such sentiment well—which was how she’d gotten into the antique business in the first place—she decided to give it one last shot. Then, if the woman held firm, in the event the Audubon Place customer actually did return, she’d just have to try to finesse her way through the situation.

  “Have you seen this one?” she asked, pointing out a cinnamon plush bear with the Steiff tag still in its ear. “It’s just a bit ne
wer—it was made in Nuremberg in 1910—but it’s in near perfect condition, And see—” she squeezed the hump “—the growler still works.”

  The low rumble seemed to appeal to the shopper. But her eyes narrowed as she checked the small cardboard price tag. “It is also more expensive.”

  “Oh dear, that’s an oversight,” Bliss improvised quickly. “I was out of town yesterday and my assistant undoubtedly didn’t have time to mark all the sale items.” She glanced over at Lilah who was watching the exchange.

  “I’m sorry,” Lilah said on cue. “Things got so busy yesterday afternoon, I forgot that bear was one of the special items.”

  “Special items?” the German woman asked, her interest suddenly piqued.

  “Oh, yes,” Bliss said. “We’d planned to take two hundred dollars off the price.” Which now put it fifty dollars below the bear the woman had been looking at in the first place.

  While Bliss held her breath, the woman hesitated, her gaze going from one to the other. But she continued to hold on to the first bear.

  “And free shipping.” It was Bliss’s final offer.

  Another long pause settled in,

  Finally, the customer returned the original brown bear to its shelf. “I will take this one,” she decided, picking up the cinnamon one.

  “I think you’ve made an excellent choice.” Bliss hurried over to the counter before the woman could change her mind.

  “Now go rescue that other one,” she said under her breath to Lilah, who didn’t hesitate to do exactly as told while Bliss took a handful of white tissue paper from beneath the counter and began wrapping it around the bear she’d just sold for the same price she’d paid for it during her recent trip to France.

  It was, admittedly, a gamble. But then again, she decided as she chatted cheerfully with the woman and continued to package up the purchase, so was life.

  That idea brought to mind her trip to Paris and the serendipitous way she’d met Shayne, and their upcoming lunch. As she had all during the long and mostly sleepless night, Bliss considered calling the hotel and canceling their date.

  But after having traveled all this way, she doubted he’d take no for an answer. And, although she hated to admit it, she was looking forward to seeing him again.

  5

  A STICKLER FOR details and punctuality, Shayne arrived at The Treasure Trove at precisely two o’clock. The bells tied to the door tinkled merrily, but he doubted Bliss could hear them over the din in the store. He hadn’t heard so much German since his disinformation days hanging out with Helga in Düsseldorf.

  He moved out of the doorway to stand in the shadow of a tall case clock and enjoyed the advantage of watching her undetected.

  Her face was flushed from the heat in the small cramped shop, her curls were a wild fiery halo around her head, and she appeared to have chewed off most of her lipstick. But she was still one of the most dazzling creatures he’d ever seen.

  Her eyes warmed everyone she spoke with as she rang up a steady stream of purchases. Her smile was quick and genuine, basking the recipient in Southern sunshine. Somehow she managed to answer questions, ring up sales, package purchases and hand out sightseeing tips without missing a beat.

  She was clearly in her element, unlike the party in Paris, where her wood sprite energy had appeared so out of sync with the studied, almost bored nonchalance of the French.

  As if sensing his steady silent appraisal, she suddenly looked up, and met his gaze. Although he fought against it, Shayne found the rush of additional color into her already pink cheeks the most charming thing he’d ever witnessed.

  She recovered quickly. “Hi,” she called out to him. “I hope you don’t mind waiting. As you can see, I’m a little tied up at the moment.”

  “Now that’s an intriguing thought.” His voice was quiet, the comment spoken more to himself than to her, but since everyone else in the shop had chosen that moment to fall quiet, his words rang out like the chimes of nearby St. Louis Cathedral.

  The color edging her high-cut cheekbones deepened, reminding him of the rosy azaleas in his mother’s garden.

  “You go ahead and take care of business,” he answered, fully aware of the appraisal of more than one woman in the room. Including the busty blond clerk who looked as if she belonged in a Playboy pictorial featuring Belles of the Bayou States. “I’ll just look around.”

  “We can always reschedule.”

  He laughed at that. “Good try. But I’m a patient man.”

  That said, he turned his attention to a leather-bound book of old maps that had been on the manifest of the items shipped from Paris. There was no way she could have managed to hide the jewels between these thin parchment pages. He’d just have to keep looking.

  Nearby, Hercules was lying atop a needlepoint pillow in a pool of sunshine. When Shayne glared at him, the cat haughtily turned his head away and began washing his paws.

  “Who in heaven’s name is that gorgeous man?” Lilah hissed as the two women continued to ring up sale after sale.

  “Just a man.”

  “Honey, far be it from me to argue with the boss, but you’re dead wrong.... Here you go,” she said, handing over the safely packaged frosted-glass perfume bottle to a dour fifty-something German. “Enjoy.”

  The woman responded with a grunt.

  “Cheerful, isn’t she?” Lilah muttered.

  “She may not speak English,” Bliss replied, grateful for the change in subject.

  But Lilah was not to be deterred. “Tom Selleck is just a man,” she said. “Brad Pitt, Val Kilmer, Keanu Reeves, George Clooney are all just men. But that guy—” she glanced over at Shayne who’d moved on to a collection of Confederate army swords and sighed deeply “—is a divine being.”

  “I suppose he’s good-looking enough, if you’re interested in that type,” Bliss allowed.

  “Tall, dark, built and handsome? Who isn’t?”

  “Me.” Bliss only wished her tone held more conviction.

  “If that’s the case, hon, then I think I’d better call the men from the funny farm to come take you away in one of those nice comfy straitjackets.” Lilah stopped in the act of tearing tape off the dispenser and gave Bliss a long, probing look. “Oh, hell. He’s rich, isn’t he?”

  “Filthy.”

  “Now that is truly a crime.” Lilah shook her head. “Honestly, Bliss, don’t you think it’s time you stopped tarring an entire class of men with that brush your rat of a husband left you holding?”

  It was the same thing Lilah had been telling her for months. The same thing Zelda had told her. The same thing Shayne had suggested their night together in Paris.

  Lilah pressed her case. “You’re the one always saying people shouldn’t be prejudiced.”

  “Point made.” Bliss forced a smile as she greeted a stocky man who’d come up to the register gingerly carrying an old Raggedy Ann doll. “Oh, that’s one of my favorites.”

  “For my daughter,” he said.

  “I’m sure she’ll love it. I certainly did.” Bliss did not add that there’d been a time when she’d hoped to save the well-worn rag doll for her own daughter to play with some day.

  He arched a blond brow. “This was your doll?”

  “It was a very long time ago.” Terrific. Open mouth, ruin sale, Bliss thought. “As you can see, I’ve grown up and moved beyond dolls. But I’m sure your daughter will be thrilled.”

  “I hope so.” He frowned. “She is very young. But it seems girls grow up much faster in Germany these days.”

  “In America, too.” Bliss experienced a fleeting sense of loss as she folded the doll’s floppy arms and legs into a box. Business was business, she reminded herself firmly. If she hadn’t wanted to sell the damn doll, she shouldn’t have brought it down to the store.

  He paid for the doll, took the package and left the store. Busy ringing up a trio of inkwells, Bliss didn’t notice Shayne leave the shop.

  It was nearly three o’clock when the sto
re finally emptied. Glancing around for the first time in an hour, Bliss realized she and Lilah were totally alone. Obviously, Shayne’s patience had reached its limits. She told herself she should feel good about this, but Bliss was vaguely disappointed that he hadn’t waited.

  “My feet are killing me,” Lilah complained, sagging down onto the rush seat of a painted pine chair.

  “You shouldn’t wear heels to work.”

  “True.” She kicked off the strappy high-heeled sandals and wiggled her toes. “But I have a dinner date tonight and wasn’t going to have time to change, and it’s been so slow around here lately, I thought I could get away with it. Hell, how was I to know that we were going to get overrun by a horde of huns?”

  She groaned at the sound of the bells signaling another customer, then flashed her teeth in the same smile that had gotten her named Mardi Gras Queen her senior year at LSU.

  “Well, hello.” Her drawl was as rich as pralines. “I was afraid you’d left Bliss in the lurch.”

  “Never happen.” Shayne’s answering grin was unreasonably cocky. Even as she warned herself of its dangers, Bliss found herself attracted. “I just decided to get out of the way until the crowd dispersed.” He turned toward Bliss. “You look wiped out.”

  “Flatterer,” she muttered, pushing a damp, wayward curl out of her eye.

  When the rebellious curl immediately bounced back, Shayne crossed the room and plucked a small, mother-of-pearl comb from a satin-backed display beside the cash register.

  “Here. Let me help.” His fingers brushed against her too warm temple as he pushed the curl back and secured it with the comb. “There. Perfect.”

  Bliss didn’t know which she hated more. The way his touch caused her pulse to leap or his unwavering confidence. A rich man’s confidence, she reminded herself.