Sex, Lies & Lace (Sex and Lies Book 4)

by Kris Calvert

  “It’s the South. We operate on the golden rule with exception.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. “What’s the exception?”

  “Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you. Unless they break the law, then you can shoot ’em and pray for their soul.”

  I laughed at his comment when he cracked a smile.

  “Sorry, it’s just a little joke. We like to cling to our guns and religion down here, ya know?”

  Handing me back my credit card, I gave him a smile. “My dad would love you, Jeb.”

  “Really? If he’s as nice as you are, I’m sure I’d like him too, Miss Weatherford. Now, you’re all set young lady. If there’s anything else I can do to be of service, you just let me know.”

  “Actually Jeb, there is something.”

  “Shoot,” he replied knitting his fingers together, placing them on the counter top.

  “I need to buy a sexy dress and a few rounds of nine millimeter, Lugar one hundred and fifteen grain, full metal jacket.”

  Jeb gave me a sly smile. “There’s gonna be a hot time in the ol’ town tonight.”

  9

  KING

  Three phone calls to the Board of Directors for Autumn Valley retirement home, one sticky situation averted with a national news reporter where I explained I wasn’t at Rose Hill the night of the accident and was saddened by the loss of life so close to my home, ten patients with various complaints and it was noon. I needed to take a break and make plans for dinner with Reagan. I wanted to impress her, but at the same time I didn’t want to overwhelm her. Reagan Weatherford didn’t seem like the kind of woman who was impressed by money or power—she was more profound than that. Reagan gave off a different kind of vibe to me. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Still, tonight had the potential to go two ways: one, we would hit it off and it wouldn’t matter that twenty-four hours ago Tina was dead on my lawn. Or two, I’ve read Reagan completely wrong and she’s only coming to dinner to pump me for information, hoping to impress the boys back at the Bureau.

  Part of the reason my relationships all were strictly sexual and had rules was because I never wanted to be close enough to anyone where the exchange of highly personal information was expected. It was easier that way—cleaner—no muss, no fuss. That being said, Reagan was the first federal agent I’d ever met I was attracted to. It could open up possibilities for me. Possibilities to have more of a normal life.

  “Doctor Giles?” Emma called to me breaking my train of thought.

  “Yes.” I motioned for her to come in.

  “You’re all set for your trip to Washington D.C. tomorrow and your meeting.”

  “Thank you.” I glanced at the commercial airline ticket that would never be used and tucked it into my briefcase.

  “You’re back in two days?”

  I knew Emma only wanted to make sure she didn’t need to cancel patients past Thursday and nothing more. “That’s correct. Although if something comes up, I’ll call in and let you know in plenty of time to reschedule all my appointments.”

  “Pretty girl in here this morning,” Emma said catching me off guard.

  “What?” I asked, not looking up from the work on my desk. Emma was in her late fifties and in charge of my office. Like Georgia who was in charge of my house, she wanted to see me settled, married and having babies like the rest of the world. After my parents were gone, the two of them had stepped in to make sure I had someone watching over me—someone to check up on me during holidays and birthdays. The thing was, I always spent those days alone—and I was fine with it. Holidays and birthdays were for family and I simply didn’t have one. Right now, I couldn’t.

  “You heard me.”

  “Yes,” I sighed. “I heard you. Between you and Georgia, why do I get the feeling you’re always colluding to marry me off?”

  “Probably because we are,” she replied. Her older, softer voice was always a kind reminder to me that life was moving forward and the more progression I made as an adult, the more I mellowed out and came to terms with my life. I’d settled into bachelorhood reluctantly, but now that I was fully present in its pros and cons, I’d learned to deal with it in my own way.

  I still had sex, I still had friends, but what I didn’t have was intimacy. It was in my mind, a fair trade. At least that’s what I continued to tell myself whenever I questioned what I was really doing with my life.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I have a date with Reagan.”

  “Yeah?” she asked, moving into my office and taking a seat.

  I shook my head at her and knitted my brow. I didn’t want her or anyone else making a big deal out of it and Emma making herself at home in my office to discuss my date plans was making a big deal.

  “Where are you taking her?”

  “Emma….” I drug out her name, shaming her for being nosy.

  “Fine. But did you ever stop to think that all that wining and dining is what these girls expect from you?”

  I stopped reading the chart in front of me and looked up to her. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re a wealthy, handsome, successful man. These women expect the big expensive dinners. They expect you to send them flowers after—you know—the wooing, the over the top romantic stuff.”

  Emma had a point. It was my usual plan. Wine and dine, then on the rare occasion, recline. I had my own agenda when it came to sex and I saved it for reciprocating partners only.

  My deep thought and silence prompted Emma to continue. “Have a little fun, King.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “I’ll think about this fun you speak of. Now get out of my office or I’m never going to make it home to prepare for my low-key, no wine or dine date. Got it?”

  Emma gave me a salute and left my office with a self-satisfied grin on her face.

  Picking up my phone to call Lilah and Georgia, I needed to stop my original plan in its tracks and pocket it for another night. Before I could dial, Red’s face and name appeared on the screen.

  “Red. What’s up?”

  “What’s up?” I could hear the concern in his voice but I refused to play into it.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

  “There’s a fucking dead broad on your lawn, King. What gives?”

  I took a pause. “I don’t know, Red. I wasn’t home. Apparently she ran out of gas. It was a hit and run.”

  “What the fucking fuck?”

  I kept my head on a swivel. I needed to diffuse Red’s anxiety quickly and let him know that it in no way interfered with the work I was doing with BioGen—at least with him.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Red. You can call the police and they’ll give you the report. They’ve asked for anyone who saw anything to come forward.”

  “And that’s it. You’ve got nothing else to say to me?”

  “There’s nothing to say, Red.”

  “It was that woman wasn’t it? The one you were talking with at the bar. The one I had to pull you away from. Jesus H. Christ, King. She was standing on your cock in that bar. There were tons of witnesses.”

  “You need to calm down. Just because an old girlfriend wanted in my pants doesn’t mean that it had anything to do with her death. It was an accident—a horrible coincidence, but still an accident.”

  I could hear Red breathing in nervous gasps on the other end. “Sure. Okay.”

  “Good,” I said. “Is there anything else? Because I have limited time to grab lunch and make it to the retirement home to make rounds.”

  “Yeah, I understand,” he said. I knew he really didn’t care if he was inconveniencing me in the least. I knew all Red cared about was Red. “King, did you call your attorney? You know it’s always a good idea to have someone watching your back legally.”

  “I’m on it, Red.”

  “Good. Which hard-on with a briefcase did you hire?”

  “My attorney, is Joy Henderson. She’s out of Birmingham. Joy is a trusted friend.”

&nb
sp; “Shit, a woman. You hired half a hard-on.”

  “Red, I gotta go,” I said. I didn’t have time for his street slang or paranoid behavior.

  “Yeah, okay. But look—your research findings in your clinical trials aren’t lining up with everyone else’s. I need you to get on board with this. We can’t fumble the ball at the goal line on this.”

  “I don’t know what you expect of me, but I’m not fudging my findings or my numbers in my set of clinical trials. Do you hear me? This drug either works, or it doesn’t.”

  “Fine. Fine. Okay, keep me posted,” he continued.

  “Posted on what, Red? I already told you everything there is to know.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Goodbye Red.”

  I hung up and dropped the phone to my desktop. Hanging my head in my hands, I looked to the watch on my wrist and saw that my quick lunch had now turned into eating an apple in the car on my way to Autumn Valley while calling Lilah.

  I closed the last patient file on my desk. Everything had been signed and I was one step closer to my night with Reagan.

  Hustling out the door, I left my briefcase behind. There was nothing I would need for the next two days that had anything to do with my life in Shadeland.

  “Lilah,” I said as soon as she picked up and my phone connected inside my car.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Cancel what I asked you to do for tonight. I’m making other plans, but I’ll need your help.”

  “So I need to call Georgia and tell her you’re not having dinner at Rose Hill tonight.”

  “You need to call Georgia and tell her I’m not having dinner at Rose Hill tonight.” I repeated her words, hoping that would be clear enough for her.

  “Yes sir. And you’re still on schedule to leave tomorrow and back on Friday.”

  “Back on Thursday, Lilah.”

  I tried to hide the exasperation in my voice, but the truth was, Lilah was killing me. I needed someone who could anticipate my next move, not make me go over it a dozen times. Lilah was a subject I would need to visit when I returned from India.

  “Okay, King. I’ve got it.”

  I was pleased she finally got to the point where she could call me by name, but still our conversations were way too long.

  “Great. Thank you.”

  “Oh and also,” she said just as I was about to hit the end button on my steering wheel.

  “Yes?” I was afraid of what Lilah might ask next that would piss me off.

  “I’ve packed your bag for Washington D.C. using the list Georgia emailed me. Hopefully, I got everything on the list in the bag and you’re all ready to go.”

  “Hopefully?” I asked with an edge of derision to response.

  “No sir.” Lilah corrected herself to respond to my tone. “Everything is in your bag. You’re locked and loaded, sir.”

  “What?” I was uncertain as to whether I’d heard her correctly or not.

  “You’re ready, sir.”

  I took a beat. “Lilah, I will see you when I return but please have your phone handy while I’m away in case I need you.”

  “No problem sir. I mean…King.”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall of my master suite and checked myself out in the mirror once more. I’d left a voice mail for Reagan to let her know I’d be picking her up earlier than we’d decided. With my new plan for the evening in place, we needed a more daylight than I’d anticipated. She’d not called back, but I received a text from her. OK

  I smoothed my sweater across my chest. Even though we were off for a little adventure tonight, I wanted to be presentable in the chance that Reagan dressed for the wine and dine date and not the one we were about to embark upon. I was all black tonight—black pants and dress shirt and black pullover V-neck sweater that I pushed up my forearms. The cotton shirt and silk pants were nice against my skin. Particular to a fault about the fabrics that I could wear, it was a tactile thing for me that led all the way to the bedroom. My pants were of woven silk—although they look like regular worsted wool. My shirt was two by two cotton pinpoint cloth and my sweater was cashmere. As far as my underwear…well I was never a fan of it, and had been free-balling as long as I could remember.

  It was one of the many secrets I had about myself—one that only became a problem in the summer if my shorts were not sufficiently long or if I popped a hard on while still fully clothed—but that hadn’t happened in years. I’d learned tremendous control in my sexual life and appetite.

  Stroking my closely shaven beard from my temples to my chin, I wanted to make sure my facial hair was soft. I’d planned on having the pleasure of tasting Reagan’s sweet lips.

  My hair was still damp, but if I was going to be on time—and I was always on time—I needed to leave the house. I did one tour around my bedroom, as was my usual procedure to make sure nothing was out of place. I liked my room tidy and clean—no loose ends. Running my hands through my waves of thick hair, trying my best to dry it, I hurried down the staircase to the main entrance where on the table next to the door lay a beautifully wrapped box.

  “Georgia?” I called through the house. “Georgia?”

  “You don’t have to shout my name, son. I’m right here.”

  I dropped my head and hung my hands on my hips, grinning at the floor. If I smiled at Georgia it would only elicit another saucy remark.

  “Ah…” I drug the word out as I pointed to the box without looking at it or her. “Wanna tell me what this is?”

  “It’s a little something for you to take to your girl tonight.”

  Bringing my gaze to Georgia’s wise and wrinkled eyes, I raised my eyebrows to question her answer.

  “I know what you’ve got planned tonight. It might get a little chilly and I thought maybe it would be a good idea to be…you know… prepared.”

  I picked up the white box with the bright red bow and walked to Georgia, giving her a one armed hug and a kiss on the forehead. “You’re too good to me Georgia. You know that?”

  “Of course I know that,” she replied as she placed her hand on my chest and pushed me away. “Now get out of here before you’re late. I know how you hate being tardy, but I hate the thought of you speeding through town to be there on time.”

  “Don’t wait up.”

  “Child, please. You know I’m going home.”

  I shot Georgia a wicked smile. You’re a sassy old broad, you know that?”

  “Get!”

  10

  REAGAN

  I’d spent my day at the local mall and then caught a cab to the firearms store just on the edge of town. I didn’t know what I needed or when I would need it, but something inside me gave me an uneasy feeling that more bad things were lurking in the darkness just waiting to show themselves in Shadeland, Alabama.

  The mall was filled with big hair, southern drawls and lipstick. Everyone was more than nice and the ladies at the cosmetic counter took pity on me. They couldn’t wait to make me up. King rang me while I was buying lipstick and I let the call go to voicemail. When I did listen, he’d changed the time of our date and I found myself in a rush for the rest of the afternoon. But here I was, standing in my sad hotel room waiting for Dr. King Giles.

  Turning side to side in front of the mirror, I checked out yet again the sleeveless black dress I’d bought. It hugged my lean body and showed off my muscular arms. I was a woman, but I looked like I could go a few rounds in the ring with someone and I refused to be ashamed of it.

  The dress was short and modest but still revealed a peek of cleavage. I needed to be distracting enough for King Giles to be off his game. I wanted information from him—information that was going to help me uncover the cover-up. I needed to remind myself of that fact all night.

  It was easy to be distracted by the alluring doctor’s charms. His tall, dark and handsome oozed from every pore on his perfectly tanned skin and his voice made me a little weak in the knees. King Giles was the kind of man who could read a
book on tax code and make it sound sexy.

  Shaking the vision of him from my mind, I tried to focus on my own look for the night.

  Slipping my feet into a pair of sling back black pumps with a high enough heel to give me a leg up on King’s six-four stature, I admired the way my calves popped. I knew from looking at King’s body, he was a workout zealot. No one could be cut like he was without lifting on a regular basis. I was into it—really into it.

  Glancing at my reflection, I pushed the blonde curls from my face. I decided to wear my hair down tonight. I hadn’t been on a date in a really long time and it felt good to show off my softer side. Being around men all the time and doing my best to fit in, I’d lost the feminine edge I used to be so proud of. I was a woman—a fact I needed to remind myself of before I lost who I really was.

  I looked to my phone as I nervously sat on the edge of the bed. I’d received one text from Win letting me know he thought I was crazy for staying behind and since he’d not reported in to Agent Daniels, I was thought to be safely back in New York City. I knew if I was to make any headway with King it needed to be tonight. I didn’t have much time and even less if the home office found out what I was doing.

  With ten minutes to kill, I turned on the news trying to calm myself. Once again the media rolled out the story of the poor victim of a hit and run on King’s road. I wondered what they would think if they could see the three bullets in her body. What would they think if they knew her hands were bound and panties were shoved down her throat post-mortem? Panties with the name of the man I was to meet in mere minutes.

  My phone rang out and I jumped, so deep in my own thought I’d become lost.

  Arnold Harper’s name and my dad sticking his tongue out at me came up on my screen. I had just enough time to chat and my conversations with Dad were always short, sweet and to the point.

  “Daddy,” I said keeping my voice light. He could always sense when I was stressed and the last thing I wanted to do was to give that impression.