Hot Property

by Jenna Bennett

  I nodded.

  “There were four of them, I think, and they tied me to a chair in the kitchen, before they stripped the house and left.”

  “That’s what I heard,” I said. “What was the interesting part?”

  Lila smiled. “The interesting part was the guy who did the tying-up.”

  “What about him?”

  “Oh, girlfriend!” She rolled her eyes expressively. “This guy was hot!”

  I wrinkled my forehead. “How do you know? I thought they wore masks. That’s what the newspapers said.”

  “They did. But I could see the way he moved. And his eyes. They were this really deep, dark brown – almost black – and with the most amazing eyelashes. And he had this really sexy voice. Listen to this: before they left, he came into the kitchen and sat on the table in front of me, and then he brushed the hair out of my face and told me to be good…”

  I dropped my fork. It clattered on the edge of the plate, but for once I wasn’t aware of the horrible breach of manners. “Oh, my God! He touched you? Weren’t you scared?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Lila said. “Though you might have been scared. I suggested that maybe he’d like to tie me to the bed instead.”

  She smiled. I stared at her, and I’m sorry to have to report that my mouth was hanging open. At least it wasn’t full. “Are you insane?”

  “Why?”

  “You don’t know this guy from Adam! He might hurt you!”

  “He didn’t seem like the type,” Lila said.

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s probably what they said about Ted Bundy.”

  “I doubt it.” She kept forking up lettuce, unrepentantly.

  I closed my mouth and made an attempt to sound more worldly when I opened it again. “What did he say? When you asked him to tie you to the bed?”

  “He declined. Very nicely. Some other time, darlin’.” She lowered her voice to a husky baritone, then grinned at my stupefied expression. I smiled back, automatically, and lowered my eyes to the Caesar. Silence reigned, broken only by the clinking of silverware and muted chewing. Not from me; any appetite I’d had was gone and I was pushing the croutons around on my plate, too busy thinking to be able to process chewing and swallowing right now.

  After a minute or two I ventured, “You’d probably recognize his voice, right?”

  “If I heard it again? Sure. He picked up one of my business cards and put it in his pocket, and then he winked. I keep hoping he’ll call!” She sighed.

  “Oh, surely not!” I said, and then caught myself. “I mean, really, Lila. Don’t be stupid. I appreciate the fact that you thought he was attractive, but if he calls, put him off and then call the police. Please. Don’t take any chances with someone you don’t know.”

  “Don’t worry about me, girlfriend. I can take care of myself.”

  After a second, she added, “Although he’ll probably never call.”

  “Probably not,” I admitted. At least I hoped he wouldn’t.

  Lila grinned. “And meanwhile, if you don’t want this Collier-guy for yourself, you can always send him my way.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said, although I knew that it would be a cold day in hell before I put Lila Vaughn and Rafe Collier together.

  We parted company after another fifteen minutes or so, with more air kisses and promises to get together again soon. I let my forced and cheerful smile slide off my lips as I walked to my car.

  Exactly one week prior to my lunch with Lila, almost to the minute, I had made myself a vow. That was when I had visited 101 Potsdam Street to give Rafe the last of the paperwork pertaining to his grandmother’s house – the house where Walker Lamont had killed Brenda Puckett – and it had also been when, to show his gratitude, he had kissed me. Rafe, I mean, not Walker. Walker bats for the other team.

  Because of a distressing tendency to pass out every time Rafe comes into my personal space, I can’t give you any of the details, but I know I promised myself that if I survived with my virtue and sanity intact, I would stay away from him in the future. It was with the utmost trepidation that I dialed the only telephone number I had for him, and waited for someone to pick up on the other end of the line.

  “Storage,” a gruff voice grunted. I hesitated. The first time I’d called the number, it had belonged to a car lot; the second time, a pawn shop.

  “This is... um... Savannah Martin?” I phrased the statement as a question, expecting some sort of acknowledgement. None came. But at least the phone wasn’t hung up, so I decided to push on as if everything was normal. “I’m trying to get in touch with Rafe Collier.”

  “Nobody here by that name,” the voice said. It was familiar. (No, it didn’t belong to Rafe. This guy’s name was Wendell. I’d met him once. Briefly.)

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I need to reach him rather urgently. Maybe you’d be so kind as to pass on the message if you happen to see him?”

  Wendell didn’t say a word, although he didn’t hang up, either.

  “Thanks,” I said, and severed the connection myself, wondering – not for the first time – about the people Rafe was involved with.

  Seven o’clock saw me back at Fidelio’s again, greeting the same gray-haired maitre d’ as had been here for the lunch shift. “Welcome back, signorina,” he said politely, bowing, “good evening, signor.”

  Todd nodded, frowning. I could tell he was curious, but he contained himself until we were seated at a table in the romantic, dusky section of the restaurant, where big, ferny plants provided plenty of cover and tinkling fountains drowned out private conversations. “What did he mean, welcome back? Have you been here recently?”

  “Lunch,” I said succinctly.

  Todd looked at me, suspiciously. “It wasn’t with Collier, was it? I thought you said you wouldn’t be seeing him again, now that he’s got his grandmother’s house back.”

  “I haven’t seen Rafe for more than a week,” I said calmly. It was a week and approximately six and a half hours, but who was counting? “If it’ll make you feel better, you can ask the maitre d’. I had lunch with a girlfriend. Her name is Lila Vaughn.”

  And may I state for the record that under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be eating at Fidelio’s twice in one day. I live on crackers and canned tuna the rest of the time; it’s only when someone else is footing the bill that I get to go to places like this. I had scraped the bottom of my checking account to pay for my half of the lunch today, and I wouldn’t have been able to afford to pay for dinner.

  One thing about Todd, he’s easily distracted. “Wasn’t she the one who was assaulted this weekend? At that open house?”

  I nodded. “Although assaulted wasn’t really...”

  “I read about it in the paper,” Todd interrupted. “You’re being careful, aren’t you, Savannah?”

  I told him I was. “But apparently it wasn’t as big a deal as the news made it sound. The robbers didn’t touch her, and she wasn’t shaken up much at all. She was more disappointed that the man who tied her to the chair didn’t choose to take advantage of her.”

  “Oh.” Todd wrinkled his aristocratic noise. “One of those.”

  I shrugged. There’s something about a remark like that, that makes it almost irresistible to say something even worse, just for shock value. And Lila was my friend; I didn’t want him to think poorly of her. However, anything I said to Todd had a way of getting back to my mother and brother in Sweetwater, so I resisted the temptation.

  “I have to host an open house this weekend,” I said instead, “so I wanted to find out as much as I could about what had happened, just to be prepared. Plus, Lila and I are friends. I thought she might need a shoulder to cry on.”

  “Not everyone is as sensitive as you, Savannah,” Todd said. I simpered. Until he changed the subject. He was like a dog worrying a bone. “So you haven’t seen Collier at all?”

  “Not since last Thursday. I already told you that.” And between you and me, I wasn’t looking
forward to seeing him again. Not after that kiss. I mean, what would I say the next time we met? Should I make reference to it, or pretend it never happened? And what if he tried to kiss me again?!

  “Are you all right, Savannah?” Todd inquired solicitously. I looked at him, blankly, and he added, “You’re flushed. Here’s the waiter. Would you like some ice water?”

  “I think I’m OK, thanks. I was just... um... thinking.” I smiled graciously at the hovering waiter. “White wine, please.”

  “And signor?”

  Todd ordered a glass of Merlot, and the waiter withdrew. Todd added, “I’m sorry if my talking about it is upsetting you, Savannah. It’s just that I know Collier, and he’s not someone a nice girl like you should get involved with. I’m concerned about you.”

  “And I appreciate your concern,” I said, just like I had done all the other times he had told me the same thing, “but you don’t have to be. I’m not involved with Rafe, and I don’t see any way that I ever will be. You seem to be forgetting that I went to school with him too, and heard all the same stories you did.”

  Todd didn’t look mollified. “You’re a lady, Savannah. There are stories nobody would have told you.”

  Before I could ask, the waiter showed up with our drinks and hovered, obsequiously. Todd ordered veal piccata, I asked for chicken marsala. The waiter withdrew.

  “So tell me what’s going on in Sweetwater this week,” I said brightly, before Todd could return to the previous subject. It wasn’t that I minded his concern, exactly; it was more that his harping seemed a little misplaced. We hadn’t been dating exclusively since high school, and although I still liked and cared for Todd, and hoped he felt the same way about me, I didn’t think that our current relationship was such that he had any right to question how I spent my time. I certainly wouldn’t presume to question how he spent his. Obviously Todd disagreed.

  We talked about home and people we both knew until the food arrived, and then Todd began regaling me with stories from his work. Like everyone else in my family, and like my unlamented ex-husband Bradley, Todd is a lawyer. But where my brother Dix and my brother-in-law Jonathan specialize in family and inheritance law, and where Bradley is a divorce attorney, Todd has gone into criminal law. He worked in the district attorney’s office in Columbia, while he lived with his daddy in a big four-square in the heart of Sweetwater.

  The waiter brought our food in the middle of one of his amusing anecdotes about life at the courthouse, and Todd kept talking between bites. I smiled, nodded, and nibbled while I listened. It wasn’t necessary for me to say anything; he kept the conversation going all by himself, with just the occasional encouraging murmur from me.

  We were just getting to the end of dinner when my cell phone rang. My heart sank, along with my stomach. Of all the times for Rafe to return my call...!

  “Aren’t you going to answer that?” Todd asked, looking at me. I avoided his eyes by flipping the phone open to look at the display. I didn’t recognize the number, but that didn’t mean anything. “It could be important.”

  “I doubt it,” I answered, putting the phone down next to my plate, where it kept sounding the Alleluia-chorus. “I think I know who it is, and I don’t really want to talk to him right now.”

  Todd’s bluish-gray eyes narrowed. “Is Collier bothering you?” He reached out and snagged the phone before I could stop him. I leaned back on my chair, biting my lip, while he lifted it to his ear. His terse greeting was a masterpiece of manly competence. “Satterfield.”

  The phone squawked. As I watched, the heightened color left his cheeks and his pleasant features took on a slightly sheepish cast. “Of course. My apologies. Here she is.” He handed me the phone across the table. “Someone named Gary Lee.”

  “Oh!” I snatched the phone out of his hand and put it to my ear. “Gary Lee? Hi!”

  “Hi, Savannah,” Gary Lee Hodges said politely. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. And you?” I was practically panting with excitement, and Todd didn’t look happy. I smiled apologetically at him, but I don’t think he quite caught my drift, because his expression became even stonier than before.

  “We’re fine,” Gary Lee said. “Hey, me and Charlene have been looking at these houses you’ve been e-mailing us...”

  “Yes?”

  “And we’ve found one we wanna take a look at. Real pretty – Tudor-like, you know – and with a real nice master bedroom with a skylight and stuff.”

  “Sure,” I said, nodding rapidly. “I’d love to show it to you. What’s a good time for you?”

  “How ‘bout tomorrow? I ain’t got nothing going on in the afternoon, and Charlene gets off work early.”

  “I’m not busy tomorrow afternoon. How about 3 o’clock? Or 3:30? That should give us plenty of time.”

  Gary Lee allowed as how 3:30 would suit him and his wife just fine, and we agreed to meet then. I shut the cell phone off, beaming.

  “Plenty of time for what?” Todd wanted to know. I turned my attention to him.

  “I beg your pardon...? Oh, that was Gary Lee Hodges.”

  “I gathered that. Who’s Gary Lee?”

  “Haven’t I told you about him? He’s half of that young couple who came to see Rafe’s grandmother’s house two weeks ago. We’ve been staying in touch, and now they want me to show them something else.” I beamed.

  “That’s great,” Todd said, hiding his enthusiasm well. “So Mrs. Hodges will be there, as well?”

  “Charlene? Sure. Why would Gary Lee look at houses without her?”

  Todd didn’t answer. “Why didn’t you want to take the call in front of me?”

  “Oh, that wasn’t... I mean...” I hesitated, flushing; my mind casting about for something plausible. Something other than the truth, which was that I had expected it to be Rafe, and that was the call I didn’t want to take in front of Todd. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to take the call in front of you, exactly. Or that I didn’t want to talk to Gary Lee. I just thought it was impolite to conduct business on the phone when we were having dinner together. You don’t talk business on the phone when we’re on a date.”

  I smiled. Todd smiled back, and although I thought I could still detect a shadow of suspicion in the depths of his blue-gray eyes, he didn’t question me further.

  He had cheesecake and I had coffee for dessert, and then he drove me home in his cushy SUV. I snuggled into the buttersoft seat and enjoyed the smell of new leather upholstery. There’s nothing wrong with my Volvo, but it’s almost five years old, and doesn’t smell brand, spanking new anymore.

  “You’re quiet tonight,” Todd said. I shook myself awake.

  “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

  “About...?”

  “Oh, this and that. My car. My income. The house I’m showing Gary Lee and Charlene tomorrow. Whether I can find another client at the open house I’m doing for Tim this weekend.”

  Or if I’d find myself gagged and tied to a chair instead. Maybe I ought to ask Todd to join me so I wouldn’t be alone, just in case something happened. But he lived an hour away, and it wasn’t fair to impose upon him, plus – honestly – I had my doubts about just how effective he’d be. Todd’s just so... civilized, and I couldn’t picture him standing up to four masked men – or even women – in coveralls and ski masks. He’s more the type who’d nail them to the wall in a courtroom later, after someone else had arrested them.

  “You need a husband, Savannah,” Todd said, and shocked me into full alertness. I gaped at him, too stunned to speak. He wasn’t going to propose, was he? Surely that was a little precipitous? We’d only met again a few weeks ago; before that we hadn’t seen each other for four years. I wasn’t even sure his divorce from Jolynn was final.

  But he didn’t say anything else, and I began to breathe again. I could even speak. “I’m not so sure about that. The first time wasn’t such a success that I’m in a hurry to try again.”

  “Maybe you married the wrong man,�
�� Todd said. I glanced over at him, but he wasn’t looking at me, just keeping his attention on the road.

  I guess I couldn’t very well deny that. However... “Sometimes it’s difficult to know who the right man is. I mean, Bradley seemed like the right man when I married him. Just like you thought Jolynn was the right wife for you when you married her.”

  Todd didn’t answer, and pretty soon we were rolling to a stop outside the gate to my apartment building on East Main Street. Todd started to open his door, and I said quickly, “You don’t have to walk me up. It’s late, and...”

  “Don’t be silly.” Todd got out of the car and came around to my side. “Of course I’ll walk you up. A single woman can never be too careful, especially in a neighborhood like this.” He looked around, at the skyline a mile or so to the west, and the cars whizzing by on their way to Ellington Parkway, just to our north. The urban grit was a far cry from sleepy Sweetwater, but not that bad, all things considered.

  “East Nashville is actually a very desirable neighborhood these days,” I said. “Home prices have doubled and sometimes tripled in the past ten years. We hardly ever have violent crimes anymore. The police have been cracking down on the drug dealers, and even the prostitutes have moved on to grimier pastures. I have a gate, and a private parking space, and a deadbolt and chain on my door. I’m as safe here as anywhere else.”

  Except maybe tiny, sleepy Sweetwater, where Todd probably wanted to see me.

  He didn’t answer, but I don’t think he was convinced. As we walked upstairs, he kept looking around suspiciously. He didn’t complain, however, probably because there wasn’t anything for him to complain about. The hallways were freshly painted and carpeted, and well lit by florescent bulbs every few feet. No dark corners where anyone could hide.

  “Well...” I said awkwardly when we stood outside the door to my apartment, “thanks for dinner.”

  Todd turned away from contemplating the hallway and focused on me. “It was my pleasure. I would be happy to provide you with dinner every night, if you’d let me.”