“I’m sorry,” Jessie said, moving another box out of her way to reach for the cup of spearmint tea she’d left on the coffee table beside Jamie. She took a fortifying sip from it.
“You’re right. I just don’t think I have anything in common with a bouncer.”
“Just because he doesn’t have a Master’s degree in library sciences, or whatever it is you have, is no reason to look down on him,” Jamie said angrily, completely ignoring her sister’s apology. “Besides, he does more than that. He also escorts us girls out to our cars at night so we don’t get ambushed. And he stands around looking threatening, so the customers mind the ‘no touching’ signs.” Jamie looked up at her sister reproachfully. “Last week he practically took the head off some joker who wanted to look for change in my G-string.”
“That’s just gross,” Jessie said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. It was hard for her to think of some guy groping her little sister without completely losing her mind. Jamie claimed to love the rush of being on stage, and said she found stripping empowering, but Jessie couldn’t imagine dancing in front of a bunch of strangers with practically nothing on. It sounded like a nightmare. Jessie couldn’t even bring herself to go to her sister’s show. She pictured beady-eyed, biker-gang types with drool running down their chins, wedding rings safely tucked away in their pockets, ogling her sister with outstretched hands.
Jessie’d been trying to convince Jamie to do something else, anything else, but Jamie stubbornly refused any and all of her sister’s well-meaning suggestions. Even working in the bookstore she partly owned didn’t appeal to Jamie. She always said it was too tame for her.
Jessie set down the teacup and approached Jamie, kneeling down so they were on eye level. She put a hand on Jamie’s furiously filing fingers, trying to get her undivided attention for a second. “Seriously, Jamie, why do you still work there exactly? Mom and Dad left you enough money to go back to school if you want. Besides, you’re such a talented dancer. I’m sure you could work someplace where a full body wax isn’t necessary. Let me talk to—”
Jessie was interrupted by the sound of the bell over the door. A man walked into the store and looked around for a second before focusing on the two women at the back.
From the outside, the used bookstore had stood out from the typically dark, decrepit, and vaguely threatening store fronts on West Hastings Street. For one thing the name, Forgotten Treasures, was prominently displayed in gold letters on the huge window beside the door, and the door itself was painted a glossy violet.
Inside, Duncan Reinhold took in the clean, inviting interior of the store decorated in rich, jewel-toned fabrics and brightly colored artwork with a surprised eye. Forgotten Treasures was a remarkable contrast to the dilapidated pawnshops and seedy XXX-bookstores that populated this area of Vancouver.
Jamie and Jessie looked at each and then back at Duncan. The store had been open for an hour, but customers before noon; especially ones that looked like Duncan were rare. He was in his early thirties or late twenties, a few inches over six feet tall and powerfully built with broad shoulders and a slim waist. His hair and leather jacket were both black and slick with rain, and he wore a white, button-down shirt and black tie beneath. Even from thirty feet away, Jessie and Jamie could see that his eyes were bright blue and thickly lined with dense, feathery eyelashes.
As he moved closer, the girls noticed a jagged scar bisecting one thick black eyebrow, giving him a rugged, almost dangerous appearance. Other than that small imperfection, he was the kind of man that women turned to stare at when he passed by. Jamie licked her full, painted lips in appreciation while Jessie started to feel overcome with nerves. Unlike her sister, attractive men turned her into a blathering idiot.
Duncan stared at the girls for a second before gaining his composure. He felt like he’d walked into a centerfold shoot. Dear Penthouse, he thought, I never thought these letters were true until…
They were in their mid-twenties. Both had dark-red hair, and smooth, pale skin. The one sprawled in the chair was wearing shiny, black leather pants and a hot pink tank top that revealed glitter-covered arms and cleavage. Her vibrant hair was wild and long, curling around her large, unencumbered breasts. Hot pink toenails peeked out of matching strappy sandals with heels that could only be called ridiculous and inappropriate for the rainy day outside. Obviously, such mundane considerations as weather had little or no affect on this woman. She stared at him with eyes the color of cinnamon, thickly lined with black kohl. Then she smiled—a wide, knowing smile that was both sensual and friendly.
“So, what’s your opinion on full body waxes?” Jamie asked Duncan with a deep, throaty laugh.
“Jamie!” Jessie sputtered at her sister, and gave her a look that should have frozen her to her seat. Jamie raised a finely arched, reddish eyebrow at Duncan and looked at him expectantly. Jessie hurriedly got up from her spot on the floor, and brushed at the dust on her full, cotton skirt. “What can I help you find?” She asked, moving closer to block Jamie from his view. She gave him a tight smile, nothing like her sister’s inviting grin, and pushed her glasses up on her nose with a quick jab of her index finger.
He fought the impulse to smile back at her. He was here on business, and flirting with either one of them was not part of his job. He had a missing girl to find. He needed to stay focused.
The sister who’d approached him was as prim as the other one was outrageous. A smudge of dust marred one perfect white cheek, but he couldn’t detect a speck of makeup on her. She wore a shapeless skirt and V-necked sweater set in an off-white hue that matched her flat, crepe-soled, old lady shoes. Her vivid hair was scraped back in a bun that would have looked severe if there hadn’t been several loose, curly tendrils escaping at the temples.
She looked like a woman who was completely oblivious to how she looked, and Duncan was drawn to that. It always seemed that the women he encountered were constantly primping and obsessing over their looks. He found it much more attractive when they were unaware of how they appeared. Of course, it certainly helped if they were a knockout like this bookstore woman. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that instantaneous click of attraction with someone. Maybe he never had.
Despite her conservative appearance, Duncan imagined what it would be like to touch her. He wondered how she’d react if he reached out and removed her glasses and shook out that hair with his hands. Would she slap him or would he see an answering heat in her eyes? He found himself wildly curious about the length of her hair. Was it shoulder length or long and wavy like her sister’s? He wanted press his nose into it, inhale its scent and feel the strands loose and flowing through his fingers. Over his chest and onto his stomach…and lower.
Whoa Nelly. Where the hell did that come from? Duncan thought to himself. He never reacted like this. But this bookish woman, without even touching him, was making him react like some horny thirteen-year-old during his first slow dance with a girl.
“Sir? Are you looking for something in particular?” the mousy one asked with a worried look. Great, she thinks I’m crazy now, Duncan thought, which is probably better than knowing that I’m actually a depraved pervert who wants nothing more than to unpin her hair.
“Sorry about that. I was just contemplating the body wax question. Put me down for against. Way too painful,” Duncan said to the lounging sister, and then turned back to Miss Prim. “Actually,” he said to Jessica, “if you’re the owner of the store, I’m here to ask you some questions.” He pulled out his badge from his inside coat pocket and flipped it open for Jessica to verify.
“Really?” she asked, eyeing the badge with interest. Was it just her imagination, or was the detective standing closer to her than absolutely necessary. Jessie moved back an inch and was surprised when he shifted slightly, just enough to close the distance between them. She could practically feel his warm breath on her face. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.
Jessie watched herself reaching out to touch the badge.
Their fingers brushed, for just a nanosecond, and yet she felt a tingle of heat run up her arm. She pulled her hand back like she’d just touched a hot curling iron and placed it behind her back protectively. “I’m Jessica Martin, the owner,” she said, and waved a hand vaguely in her twin’s direction. “And that’s my sister, Jamie. She was just leaving.”
Jamie obligingly got up and slinked over to check out Duncan’s badge. Duncan didn’t even look at Jamie’s provocative, hip-swinging swagger, he couldn’t stop staring at Jessica. She had a tiny black beauty mark just above the bow of her lip. He was mesmerized by that small imperfection, and could see himself leaning down and tasting it with his tongue.
“What on Earth would you have to ask us about?” asked Jessie, placing a hand on her chest in a prissy gesture that made Jamie roll her eyes.
“I’m Detective Reinhold with the VPD, and I understand that this place is frequented by prostitutes and street kids,” he said briskly, putting away his badge and pulling out a pad of paper and a chewed-looking black pen.
“Prostitutes?” Jamie exclaimed, pretending to cover her mouth in a parody of disapproval. “Jess, you never told me you were working girls out of this place. I’m shocked and appalled. Really.” Jamie tugged on her coat with the leopard skin collar and grabbed her bag from the floor.
“Very funny,” Jessie said to her sister, nudging her toward the door. Instead of leaving as she originally intended, Jamie stopped and stood close to Duncan, pretending to be fascinated as he wrote down the date and the address of the store. Pressing her breasts casually against his arm, she gave Jessie a wicked grin. Jessie scowled at her and mouthed a “get out” over the detective’s bent head.
“Prostitutes don’t frequent my store,” Jessie said to Duncan defensively. “I just let them hang out here if it’s raining, or if they need a break or whatever. They’re actually my best customers.” Jessie didn’t see why she should turn people away just because they weren’t going to buy anything. Her store was about bringing quality reading material to people who couldn’t afford it otherwise, not making a profit. The huge chain stores took care of that possibility. The only way she made ends meet at all was by renting the store out to Vancouver’s thriving film industry as a location.
“So they do frequent your store?” Duncan asked, not quite managing to hide his grin. He’d smiled more in the past three minutes than he had in weeks. What was it about this woman that made him completely lose his concentration?
“Okay, they come in here, but you make it sound like they’re performing tricks in the self-help section,” Jessie said with a fierce look. Usually she wouldn’t argue with someone she barely knew. Especially someone as wildly attractive as this detective, but for some reason, it was important to her that this man know she ran a respectable business.
“Jess,” Jamie said, laughing at her sister’s naiveté. “I think magicians perform tricks. Prostitutes turn tricks.”
“Whatever. Don’t you have someplace to be?” Jessie asked impatiently, gazing meaningfully at her sister. Jessie knew she was being rude, but ever since they were infants, Jamie had reveled in aggravating her older sister. She just loved watching Jessie squirm. “My point is that this isn’t some kind of prostitute clubhouse,” she said to Duncan.
“But they do come in here regularly? Prostitutes and some street kids? You know some of them?” Duncan asked, attempting to put the proper gravity into the question when he’d really prefer to forget about his reason for coming here. He would much rather concentrate on getting to know this woman better.
“I suppose so, but we’ve only been open for a short time. I don’t know them all by name or anything. Two months isn’t really long enough to establish any kind of relationship, is it?” Jessie asked earnestly. “With a customer, I mean.” She looked up and her dark eyes locked with Duncan’s startling blue ones. Suddenly, Jessie wished Jamie would leave, and not just because the younger Martin girl was so determined to stir up trouble. Jessica was surprised to note that she desperately wanted to be alone with Detective Reinhold and explore this heat that seemed to be boiling over between them.
As if reading her mind, Jamie moved away from where she’d been glued to Duncan’s side. From the sparks between her sister and the cop, she was pretty sure old Guido was going to be out of luck. “I’ve gotta go, you two. It was nice meeting you Detective. If you’re bored some night, come see me at the Kitty-Kat lounge.” With a flip of her auburn mane and a wink at her sister, Jamie was gone, leaving Jessie and Duncan alone.
Hot Property (Kingston Bros.) Page 17
