by Mary Calmes
"What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you."
"No. What do you want to eat?"
"Eat?"
"Yes, eat."
"I don't want to eat."
"Yes, you do."
"No, I don't," I insisted, looking nervously around the table. They were all looking at us.
"Never mind." He shook his head suddenly, turned and gestured for the waiter. "I know what to get you."
I shed my peacoat and settled myself into the chair. When I looked up I found all eyes still on me. "Hey, sorry about this, everybody."
"No, sweetie, it's fine," Marilyn Castro told me, reaching out to pat my arm. "You're always welcome. You're more his little brother than anything else."
I wondered if that was true even as Jude nodded his agreement.
"So talk to me about the cop."
I looked back at Dane. "What about him?"
His eyes narrowed. "You're doing what with him?"
"How is that your business?"
"You're my business."
I scowled at him. "I have to testify."
"And so you're staying with him until then?"
"Yeah."
"Yes."
"Yes."
"I see. So then you can work?"
"I already said yes."
He nodded. "And if you can't? Will you quit?"
It was asked very casually, but I could tell from his eyes that my answer was important.
"Do you want me to quit?"
"Maybe the detective will want you to."
"That's not what I asked you."
"Do you want to?"
"Do you want me to?" I repeated, leaning toward him just a little.
"You're being evasive."
"You're being three."
"Do you want to?" he asked me again, pressing for the answer.
"I refuse to answer before you."
He smiled slowly, his eyes firing. I was amusing him so much at that moment. I had to grin back; there was no way not to respond when he was teasing me. "No," he answered quietly, his voice low. "I don't want you to quit."
"Then I won't." I smiled smugly, very pleased, straightening up in my seat.
He leaned back away from me and started up a conversation with Kensie and another woman at the table. I sat there chatting with Rebecca Stoler and Marilyn. They were all so very nice, even if none of them could seem to do anything else but watch and listen when Dane and I talked.
The food came and I waited while Dane moved things back and forth between our plates. Onions off both our plates, mushrooms on mine, cucumbers on his, carrots on mine, potatoes on his, and he split his steak and my chicken so we both had a little of each.
"Wow." Marilyn smiled at me. "That was quite the production."
"Well," I shrugged. "I mean, we eat together every day.
He knows what I'll eat."
"I know what he'll eat," he echoed me, and then looked at my plate. "And that looks okay."
I still didn't have much of an appetite but I picked at the chicken.
"You look better than I thought you would," Dane said, looking into my eyes, hand on my chin turning my head back and forth. "The shiner's a nice touch, though."
"Thanks," I said, pushing the plate away from me, draining my ice tea.
"The new typist is a hundred and twenty years old," he muttered.
I smiled wide. "Well, that makes sense."
"I guess," he said, arm around the back of my chair. "Are you safe at the detective's place?"
"Yes."
"You're sure?"
"Positive."
"All right."
After a while I tapped his shoulder gently.
"What?"
"Can I talk to you a second?"
"About?"
"Caleb Reid."
"What about him?" he asked casually, but I could tell from the look in the dark eyes that I was in trouble.
"I think you should do what he wants and go see her."
"I think you chose this setting to speak to me about his because you knew I couldn't kill you in public," he said pointedly.
"I think you're right."
He smiled and turned so he was facing me. "And when did you become informed of the specifics of this situation?"
"Last night. I had dinner with him."
"And you spoke to him after you said you wouldn't?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it was about you and you know I just had to know."
"Okay."
"So I'll go with you."
"Go where?" Kensie asked from the other side of him.
"Oh you will, will you?" he asked me, completely ignoring her.
"You know I will."
"It's far from here."
"I know, Texas. I can go there."
"And Detective Kage would think what about that?"
"He wouldn't care."
"No?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
"He knows you're my boss. He knows I'd be safe with you."
"Does he?"
I looked at him hard. "Yeah. Course."
"All right," he decided. "I'll go next Friday."
"You mean we."
"I mean I."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it's no one's business but mine."
"I thought I would go with you." I said quickly, trying to not let him hear the disappointment.
He smiled as he surveyed the restaurant. "Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"There's no reason for it."
"No?"
"No," he said flatly, turning to look at me.
"You don't need me to go?" I asked hopefully.
"No," he said sternly, trying to force me with his tone to quit.
"You're sure?"
"Very sure. Now drop it."
I sighed heavily. "I'll call Mr. Reid."
"I will call Mr. Reid. You're done with it."
I was about to savor my negotiation skills when I suddenly turned and looked at him. The grin was obvious and his eyes were twinkling. "You played me. You were already going to go."
"I was mulling it over."
"But?"
"But now, when it's a horror, I have you to blame." He grinned evilly.
Crap.
"So where are you off to?" Kensie asked, her hand on his chin, turning his eyes to her.
I excused myself another ten minutes later and stood up to leave.
"Where're you going?" Dane asked, rising from his chair to stand in front of me.
"Home." I yawned, smiling up at him. "I've interrupted enough for one night."
His hand squeezed my shoulder gently. "You haven't done anything."
I held his gaze.
"Come on," he said gruffly, hand on the back of my neck, leading me from the table.
"Good night!" I called back over my shoulder.
Dane walked me out to wait for the cab.
"Do you want to come along to the theater? I can get you a ticket."
"No thanks," I said as I buttoned up my coat. "I don't wanna die."
"What are you talking about now?"
"Your date'll kill me. She's already royally pissed off."
"She's not."
"Oh trust me, she is."
"I care." He sighed heavily, breathing in the crisp air.
I looked up at him a minute, studying the classic profile.
"Why are you out with her then?"
He gave me a look like I was clearly out of my mind.
"When I'm ready to discuss my personal life with you I'll let you know." He opened the door of the cab that had been hailed by the valet and I climbed in.
"I can't wait!" I said cheerfully, smiling widely as he closed the door. I waved hard as the cab pulled away from the curb just to try and annoy him a little.
* * * *
I made it back to the apartment about ten minutes befo
re Sam, and had his stereo blasting when he walked in the door.
"Hey!" he called out to me as he came into the living room. "What are you doing?"
It was perfectly obvious that I was dancing. On his hardwood floors in my socks, I was sliding around pretty well.
He stood and watched me, his smile wide. I sang along at the top of my lungs and he motioned me to him after a few minutes. I slid across the floor to him and he grabbed the front of my sweater and pulled me close.
"I'll shower and we can go get something to eat, all right?"
More food. "Sure."
He put his hands on my face. "You look better today."
"Yeah?" I asked, stepping closer to him, leaning my cheek in his hand.
"Somebody needs a little attention."
I lifted my chin, stretching my neck toward him. His hands were instantly on my throat.
"Huh, J? You need somethin'?"
I nodded and he eased me close and kissed me. Funny that in the span of four days the man was kissing me like he owned me. He was very possessive, whether he knew it or not.
"Keep dancing, J," he teased me, pulling back, kissing the end of my nose. "I'll be right out."
I rolled my eyes, turning off the music as he jogged out of the room.
There was knocking at the front door, so I went to see who it was. The man on the other side of the door looked stunned when I answered.
"Hi." I smiled brightly.
"Hi," he said slowly, clearly confused. "Is Sam here?"
"Yeah," I answered as two women joined him in the hall.
"Did you want to come in?" I asked them all, stepping back, holding the door open.
I closed the door behind the three and noticed that the blonde was carrying a large casserole dish. It was covered in tin foil and she was carrying it with potholders.
"Oh geez." I smiled at her. "Here, bring that in the kitchen and put it down. I'm so sorry, I didn't see you were holding anything."
She smiled wanly and followed me through the living room to the kitchen. I moved the teakettle off the burner so she could put the food down.
"Thank you," she said quickly, and her voice was beautiful.
Round tones like she'd been to boarding school or something.
Lots of diction classes. "It's hot and it was getting very heavy."
"What is it?"
"Veal piccata."
"Mmmm," I nodded. Eww, so not a fan of veal, I try not to eat baby anything. "Yummy." I held out my hand to her then.
"Hi, I'm Jory Keyes."
"Oh, well, it's lovely to meet you, Jory. I'm Christine Montero and out there in the other room are my brother Jeff and my friend Donna Norton."
"Great," I nodded. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Well," she grimaced, "I think we're supposed to be having dinner."
"Oh?"
"Yes, um, my brother made a dinner date with Sam about a week ago. I was supposed to cook my specialty that my brother's apparently been bragging about and Sam was going to supply the salad and the wine," she clarified for me. "That was the plan anyway."
"Oh," I said, completely unsure of what I was supposed to do at that point. How awkward was this. Worse was that this had been so inconsequential to Sam that he had seemingly not even remembered it. "I see. Well let's ask him if he made it to the store."
She followed me back out to the living room.
"Jeff," Christine smiled uneasily at him, "I think perhaps this sort of slipped Sam's mind."
"What?"
"I told you to call him and confirm," she said crisply, her tone almost sharp.
"No," Jeff shook his head, giving me a quick look. "He's not like that, he's got this covered."
It took everything in me not to smile. The man so did not have this covered.
"Hi," the other woman leaned forward to offer me her hand. "I'm Donna Norton, and you are?"
"Jory." I smiled at her. "Good to meet you," I said, looking over at Jeff.
"Hey," he smiled tightly. "Jeffrey Montero. I live down the hall there in 5G."
"Oh, neighbors," I blurted. "Great."
"J?" Sam called from the bedroom. "Why don't you come in here and—"
"I'm in the living room," I cut him off, and because I knew he'd just got out of the shower I was kind instead of the bitchy I felt. "And you have guests."
"What?" He came around the corner, half naked, all the rippling muscles there on display, the sculpted chest and the washboard abs. The jeans rode low on his tapered hips, top button open to reveal the white of the briefs underneath. He should have been on a billboard somewhere, the man was that mouthwatering. His smile as soon as he saw everyone was huge. "Oh, hey," he chuckled, pointing back to the bedroom. "Just gimme a sec."
It took an excruciatingly long time for him to find a T-shirt because the silence was oppressive. Jeff was downright glaring at me and Donna just looked like she was going to burst into laughter at any second. Christine had her arms crossed over her chest. Her face was unreadable.
"Hey, sorry," Sam apologized, coming back into the room.
He walked to my side and put a hand on my shoulder.
"What's up?"
"Dinner," I told him, tuning to look up into his face. "You told Christine—"
"No, he told Jeff," Christine corrected me, smiling at Sam, moving to stand a little closer to him.
"Oh," I said, stepping away from Sam so his hand dropped off of me. "Sorry. You told Jeff that tonight would be good for dinner. Did you remember to pick up wine and salad on your way home?"
His grin was just out of control, flirtatious and evil at the same time. "You're pissed."
"What?"
"You are." His eyes were sparkling as he turned from me to Jeff. "I'm sorry, man, I completely forgot about this. With all the shi—stuff going on at work, I just spaced it. Can we reschedule?"
"Christine made her specialty," I informed him. "It's on the stove."
"Oh," he nodded. "Okay, well then I can run and get something now if you guys aren't in a big hurry."
"No, we're not in any hurry." Jeff smiled at him. "I'll go with ya."
"No-no. It's freezin' outside, man, stay here and I'll just run over to Ponti's. You guys want like, antipasto and some Chianti?"
"Sounds great," Christine said gently. "I can make the run with you. I don't want you to go alone."
He turned and looked at me. I shrugged before I said, "It's veal." And tilted my head to the side with a snap of my neck.
I knew the attitude was just dripping off of me but I didn't care.
"Veal?" I saw his jaw muscles flex. Apparently he didn't like to eat babies either.
"Mmmm-hmmm," I said cheerfully.
"Huh," he chuckled, turning back to Christine. "Okay, let's go."
I was left alone with Jeff and Donna, who immediately sort of closed ranks and started talking in low whispers. It was really very rude, and even when I offered them each something to drink, they just declined and went back to talking. Instead of just standing there getting mad, I walked around the apartment that I'd still not really explored.
Sam lived in Lincoln Park and his apartment was on the fifth floor and had one of those cool old elevators that you had to close two metal grate doors to get going. The apartment itself was very cozy, lots of brown, tan, taupe, black, and rust colors everywhere. The black leather couch and chair, American Indian print rug, cherrywood coffee table, and a butcher-block kitchen table with tall, straight-backed chairs flanking it were what the eye saw immediately.
It was a clean, clutter-free space.
In his bedroom there was a sleigh bed in cherry and matching armoire, a leather weave rug, and a down comforter. Paintings of the desert adorned the walls and there was nothing—no knickknacks or little dishes to hold stuff like a watch or a ring—anywhere in his place. His home exuded a masculine vibe without lacking details like candles or scattered pieces of art. In the second bedroom was his computer, weights, and a daybed covered
in brick and burnt orange colored pillows. In the living room the TV, DVD player, Wii, PlayStation, and stereo were all housed in a huge cherrywood entertainment center that was flush against the wall. There were assorted shelves on the walls beside it, and I walked over to those and looked at the faces of strangers who were all apparently dear to him.
I gazed at a wedding picture, another of some men at a firehouse, a black and white studio picture of his parents—his mother a vision, his father very dashing—more wedding photos, and one of him and all his buddies from days spent in the Marine Corps. There were a lot of framed shots and I found that I liked that there were all these people in his life that loved him.
"So, Jory, how do you know Sam?" Jeff asked, walking over to me.
I looked up at him. "We go way back," I lied.
"How far back can you go?" Donna winked at me, stepping around the other side of me. "What are you, all of eighteen?"
"Twenty-two," I corrected her.
"Oooh, that's ancient," she teased me.
I looked at her. "Why? How old are you?"
"Sacrilege," she laughed.
I liked her. "You wanna drink now that you're done being bitchy?"
"I would love one," she sighed, looking me up and down.
"What happened to your eye?"
"I walked into a door."
"I see," she nodded, clearly not believing a word of it.
"What do you do for a living, Jory?"
"I'm an office assistant."
"Really. You don't model?"
I scoffed.
She gave me a knowing smile. "Darling, with your skin and those big dark eyes and that body you could model. I work for Pulse Magazine. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."
I looked at her as she stepped forward, brushing my hair back from my face. "How do you get blond hair and brown eyes? That's amazing."
"Hey, we're home," Sam announced as he came through the door.
I turned and looked at him. I was so happy he was back.
"What?" he asked, glancing at Jeff, his brows furrowing.
The look suggested he was annoyed.
"Sam, you should tell your friend over here to let me introduce him to some photographers I know. I think he could model if he wanted."
"Oh yeah?" The smile came instantly as he dropped the takeout and wine on the couch and strode over to me. His fingers slid under my chin as he raised it to look down into my eyes. "You wanna do that, J?"
I trembled under his touch and stopped breathing.
"No?" He was speaking to Donna but his eyes never left my face. "He's not really model material."
