by Joanne Rock
She frowned for a moment before her eyebrows lifted in tandem, her face the picture of surprise. “Because you want to break the one-month barrier with me?”
“You find that so difficult to believe?”
“A little.” She reached for his hand, smoothing her thumb across the back of his knuckles and then up to the tattoo on his wrist. “You must know even better than me that it’s tough to put yourself out there and trust in someone.”
“Hell, yeah, I know. I’m a three-time loser in the trust department.” He took her hand in his, halting her fingers in their quest. Vanessa told him he shouldn’t always expect the worst from people, right? Maybe the time had come to charge into this mess with Tempest and expect—hope for—the best.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he had more to say on that subject. If he was going to put himself out there, he would do it all the way.
“Twice I lost out to women who would probably argue I chased them away by not being committed enough.” Maybe they were right. But Wes had always felt like he gave it his best shot. “And a third time I trusted my partner could hold it together while under cover and was blown out of the water when he turned. I still can’t fully believe he went rogue, but the reports from an investigation around his murder all point to him being waist-deep in criminal activity. You’d think I’d know better by now, wouldn’t you?”
Tempest leaned forward in the desk chair, her hand brushing over his knee. “I’m sorry, Wes. I didn’t know—”
“Doesn’t matter.” He interrupted the sympathetic words he didn’t need anymore. He simply wanted an other chance with her, and he was determined to secure it before he walked out of her apartment today. “What I’m trying to say is that maybe I’m the romantic and you’re the cynic if I’m the only one willing to give this a chance.”
It was the best he could do, the most forthright he could be. He’d put himself on the line for her this time, showing a side he hadn’t shared with anyone for too many years. He didn’t toss aside his pride and call him self a romantic for just anyone, damn it.
Tempest was special.
She blinked hard, as if trying to process what he was saying. Her brown eyes studied him intently.
“I’m not being cynical.” She shook her head, denying the obvious. “It’s called being practical. I’ve had my whole life on hold for the last eight months until I figure out who to entrust with my father’s business. I’m caught between my dreams and my reality so often, I don’t even know who I am half the time. That doesn’t seem like a fair way to start a relationship.”
“Who cares about fair? I’m not a demanding guy.” He’d never asked much of any woman except fidelity for as long as they were together, and he knew without question that Tempest was the kind of woman who would view faithfulness the same way as him. Yet she wanted something else from him. Something he couldn’t seem to understand. “You’re busy and I appreciate that. So I’ll take what you can give and we’ll see how it goes.”
“But I care about being fair,” she said softly, seemingly unfazed by his appeal as she tied the belt on her bathrobe, cinching it closed. “And I’m not just worried about what’s reasonable for you. When I’m ready to take the gamble with my heart, I want to give myself a real shot of making it work.”
He didn’t know how to argue his way around that without sounding like an insensitive jerk. His damn tat too itched again, except he knew it wasn’t the tattoo. It was just a stupid head-trip that surfaced with remark able regularity whenever a woman talked about some thing like her heart.
“I’m not asking for forever, Tempest.” He wasn’t asking her to sign her name in blood, for crying out loud. He just wanted to be with her tomorrow. And the next day. And a few more afterward, if she’d let him.
“Believe me, I’m well aware of that.” She managed a lopsided smile he’d never seen before, a grin that didn’t look entirely happy to his eyes. “I just don’t think we should jump into anything when you’re not even sure what kind of feelings you have for me.”
Hadn’t he told her how he felt by asking her to stay with him and work things out? He’d given her more of himself than any other woman, and she was still turning him down. As the sound of dogs barking drifted up to Tempest’s third-floor window, Wes realized his opportunity to convince her was over.
And he’d failed.
She wanted to know how he felt? He imagined his condition at this moment in time wasn’t all that different from lying facedown on the street after fighting a losing battle. He’d been gutted and left to bleed out while her voice sounded farther and farther away.
The sensation gave him all the more reason to find Tempest’s stalker today—to close his case and get on with life. Alone. No matter that he’d put himself on the line, risking heart and pride to a woman too caught up in her own life to make time for him.
There was nothing left for him here.
“WAS IT JUST ME, or did Wes seem a little out of it when he left?” Vanessa Torres had been low-key company for most of the afternoon, staying out of Tempest’s way while she showered and then worked on a new sculpture, a male vampire figure with outstretched arms.
Tempest couldn’t think of any other way to burn off the mixture of fear, frustration and regret suffocating her ever since Wes seemed to shut her out and had left the apartment without hearing her side of things.
But apparently Vanessa wasn’t going to keep quiet on the subject of Wes all day.
“I just assumed he was getting himself into work mode.” Tempest didn’t want to discuss the trouble between her and Wes with a stranger, especially when she didn’t even understand it herself. She only meant to ask him for more time to figure out what she wanted in life, a few more weeks to become the independent woman she knew she could be.
But somehow, Wes seemed to take that as a rejection, even going so far as to tune out half of what she said. Or so it seemed. She couldn’t tell what happened any better than Vanessa, but she knew that—in Wes’s eyes, at least—she had slighted him by not agreeing to forge ahead with a relationship even though she knew she wasn’t ready.
“He’s not usually like that at work,” Vanessa ob served lightly, watching Tempest mold the basic lines of the vampire’s bare chest with her hands before she picked up a carving tool. “If anything, he’s hyperfocused about the job and today he seemed a million miles away.”
The comment echoed in the wide-open studio space, a weighted silence that seemed as much a presence in the room as the two dogs and two women.
She ignored it.
“Have you and Wes been working together for a long time?” Neatly changing the subject, she contemplated the shoulders of her vampire man and wondered what it would be like to be wrapped in those strong arms again.
Again?
Funny how Wes’s image was all that came to mind for artistic inspiration today. She’d started work on her male creature to take her mind off Wes, and still found his face staring back at her from the dark, half-formed clay. Her heart ached with a wrenching sense of failure and loss ever since he’d walked out abruptly the moment Vanessa returned with the dogs.
Had she thwarted any chance of a future together by asking him to give her a little time?
“A year and a half.” Vanessa stared out one of the windows at the misty rain that seemed to have enveloped the city for nearly a week, her sleek, dark hair falling in a smooth curtain over her profile. Tall and slim, she had the kind of posture Tempest’s mother had failed to instill in her despite a considerable amount of effort. This woman possessed a natural poise and elegance that had always eluded Tempest. “He’s one of the best detectives assigned to the precinct.”
“He said his former partner died on the job.” Tem pest didn’t mean to pry, but figured it couldn’t hurt to open the doorway in case Vanessa cared to share any thing that would help her understand Wes better.
Not that it mattered now, when she’d already told him she wasn’t ready for a relationship.
Regret pricked her, even as she knew her decision had been sound. Logical.
Painful.
“Wes would say that. He had a hard time believing Steve would do anything illegal.” Vanessa traced a raindrop sliding down the glass with her fingernail. “But most people think his partner died after transforming himself into the alter ego he used for a cover. He wasn’t as strong a cop as Wes—physically or mentally—and I think he suffered without his role model to keep him in line.”
Tempest’s fingers slid away from the wet clay, thinking how easily she could lose herself against the force of Wes’s personality as well. It would be hard not to lean on someone who seemed so capable.
“Wes deserves a stronger partner.” Tempest hoped Vanessa Torres provided that for him. The way Tempest figured, any woman who could single-handedly bring peace between Kong and Eloise possessed a fair amount of strength.
Vanessa peeled her attention away from the misty windowpane to meet Tempest’s gaze with clear green eyes. “He sure does. Do you think you’ve got what it takes?”
Somehow Tempest wasn’t surprised that Wes’s partner would have a flair for direct speech. She shook her head, determined to be honest with Vanessa—and her self. “Not yet. But I’m working on it.”
A ghost of a smile played over Vanessa’s lips, but be fore Tempest could be certain it had been there, it was gone again, her face a smooth mask with wise eyes. “Let me know if there’s any way I can help. Wes is a damn good guy—for a cop.”
Tempest wondered briefly what Vanessa had against the men on the force, but her most pressing concern now was how to make Wes understand all she wanted was a little more time.
Since he hadn’t listened to her, maybe this time she needed to show him she was serious. They could have a shot at a future if only he’d give her some more time to pull her life together. To find her own strength. “Actually, there is something you could do to help me.” She hoped Vanessa would go for it, but there was a very real chance she might shoot down the idea with out even hearing her out since it could be dangerous. “And at the same time, I’ll be helping you sew up your investigation all the sooner.”
SHE WOULD BE a strong partner, damn it.
Tempest clung to the thought like a personal mantra as she and Vanessa waited for Bliss Holloway, Mating Game’s operations manager, to dispense with social niceties late that afternoon in the woman’s midtown home.
Vanessa had quickly agreed they needed to hear from such a key figure in the investigation as soon as possible. Since Wes was in the middle of interviewing potential suspects, that meant Vanessa would talk to Bliss, even if it meant bringing Tempest along for the ride.
After days of silence following the break-in, the MatingGame manager had finally returned Tempest’s phone call shortly after lunch. Vanessa and Tempest had set off together—an elegant street cop and a renegade socialite with little in common except for their united effort to help Wes close his files on the MatingGame killer.
The more Tempest thought about him interviewing suspects all afternoon, the more she worried. Maybe it was the way they’d parted that had unsettled her, but she couldn’t shake a bad feeling about the day.
Now, she followed Bliss Holloway down a short corridor in a beautifully appointed suite where she said the three of them could talk privately. Bliss, a self-made millionaire before she was thirty, continued to conduct her business from the penthouse floor of an upscale hotel even though Tempest had offered to purchase corporate office space for MatingGame.
Bliss was a woman with unflagging energy and vision, the kind of lit-from-within personality that Tempest admired immediately. Her respect for the woman had only increased the longer they worked together since Bliss actively sought ways to donate portions of MatingGame’s profit to private causes that helped a variety of underprivileged people from at-risk teens to low-income single mothers.
Her blond bob swung neatly across the shoulders of her jacket as she turned to look back at Tempest.
“I’ll admit, I was worried when I got back from Tokyo this morning and heard your message.” Their hostess led them into an open salon in the back of the penthouse after both Vanessa and Tempest had nixed her offer for tea. She gestured to a seating group near the fireplace and took a seat in an elegant wingback covered in dainty yellow flowers. “And now that you’ve arrived with a police detective in tow, I’m all the more concerned.”
Briefly, Vanessa filled her in on the break-in and vandalism at Tempest’s apartment, without mentioning the link to the murder they were investigating. And while Tempest had hoped Bliss would be able to offer an explanation that would somehow deflect attention away from the prostitution angle, instead she watched the woman’s face turn pale.
“Someone wrote those words on your door?” Bliss turned to Tempest as if for confirmation, her fingers smoothing over a weighty tennis bracelet at her wrist. At Tempest’s nod, she took in a deep breath. “What makes you think the vandals referred to MatingGame? Boucher Enterprises must own at least fifty companies worldwide.”
Vanessa interrupted before Tempest could answer, no doubt wanting to be in control of an interview where crucial information could be at stake. “The police have additional evidence linking MatingGame to prostitution and perhaps to a more serious crime. Do you have any explanation for this, Ms. Holloway? Do you know of any women—or men, for that matter—using your dating service in an illegal manner?”
Bliss opened her mouth and closed it, as if unsure how to begin. When she tried again, her words were steady and calm. “To my knowledge, no one is using the service illegally, or I would have reported it immediately. But I’m afraid I may have information regarding the origins of the prostitution rumor.”
Tempest sucked in a breath, nerves tense. If MatingGame turned out to be involved in something illegal, it could cost Boucher Enterprises millions in damage control and lost revenues. The hit to their credibility would trickle down through the company to hurt so many people, and yet Tempest couldn’t stop herself from thinking she could withstand all of it if only the truth meant Wes wasn’t in any danger tonight.
His safety meant more to her than anything.
“As MatingGame has become more commercially successful, I find myself with more opportunities than ever to reach out to people in the city who need a hand.” She shifted in her wingback, adjusting her red-and-ivory-colored houndstooth skirt to cover her knees. “Recently, I needed some help around the office and because I work at home, I thought it would be okay to hire some young women away from their careers in the…um…oldest profession so they could have a fresh start.”
Vanessa leaned forward in her chair, leather jacket squeaking. “You hired hookers?”
“I hired desperate women with small children who really needed a way out of their situations.” Bliss straightened in her chair, spinning her words as smoothly as a trained politician.
“Where did you find call girls for hire, Ms. Holloway? I don’t imagine you run into your average street walker on this block too often.”
Bliss offered a tight smile, but her eyes remained cool. “This is New York, Detective. Let’s not forget that no matter how lofty your address on Central Park West, you’re still hovering on the edge of a playground for crime.”
Tempest sensed a subtle tension between the women, but couldn’t put her finger on it. Besides, right now, her sole concern was giving Wes whatever help she could to show him she was willing to work with him—for him—as soon as she got her own life straightened away.
She nudged into the conversation, hoping to speed things along. “So you met these women in the park?”
Bliss crossed her ankles beneath her chair. “No. I was simply making a point. I happen to have an old friend in the business who I’ve never managed to coax over to the other side, and I learned of these two troubled women from her.”
While Vanessa continued to quiz the MatingGame manager about the ex-hookers allegedly providing no more than clerical help, Tempe
st waited impatiently for their conversation to turn back to what seemed most important.
Finally, she interrupted them, too keyed up and worried about Wes to wait. “Do you have any reason to believe either of your office employees might be using MatingGame as a dating service?”
Bliss shook her head. “It’s against the rules for direct company employees, and I post all of the Mating Game profiles so I would see any—” She halted abruptly, her fingers pausing in an idle dance across the tennis bracelet. “Unless they broke office policy and used Blind Date.”
Perhaps she had the same bad feeling about the possibility as Tempest did, because Bliss was on her feet and hastening over to her computer before the words had all left her mouth. Vanessa and Tempest followed, their shoes sinking into the room’s plush white carpet as Bliss’s fingers flew across her keys.
“Should we call Wes?” Tempest whispered behind her hand while Bliss scanned page after page of data on a spreadsheet.
“We’ll head over to Mick’s Grill right after this and call him on the way.” Vanessa never took her eyes off the computer screen.
Bliss paused her scrolling screen to point to an entry in the Web site user log. “This is it. Marianne Oakes’s personal e-mail ID.” She shook her head, eyes wide with disbelief. “I can’t believe she would skirt the regulations and use our service after I gave her a chance to start over here.”
“This woman is one of your office staffers?” Vanessa copied down the line entry in a notebook while Bliss pressed a button to print the whole file.
“She’s been with me for six months,” Bliss con firmed, typing in the user name to search the rest of the log for repeated visits. “A really bright girl with lots of potential, but she fell on hard times last year and got involved in an escort service to pay the bills.”
Vanessa tapped the end of her pen on her notebook spiral. “Can you find out how many men she’s been in contact with? We have reason to suspect her in a murder committed the Saturday before this past weekend.”
