“Somebody’s hacking into your emails, and probably bugging your entire phone system,” Mouse explained. “They’re good, but somebody got clumsy just once, and with the Mighty Mouse, once is all it takes.”
“I don’t understand, Mouse. Who? Why?”
“Beats me all to hell. Maybe your Aussie boyfriend’s checking up on you.”
“He's not my boyfriend. We're merely collaborating on a book. And why should he need to check up on me? I’m living in his house, using his computer for my emails.”
“Maybe Lucifer has enemies. Didn’t you tell me he had all sorts of business interests?”
“Yes, but—”
“What I'm saying is that Lucifer... Geoffrey Barrett's system is under surveillance. I can’t find out more from here, and I certainly won't fly to Australia to help sort it out. I do not like that man! So just consider yourself warned, and don’t say anything by email, especially to me. And please don't say anything that could get either of us in trouble.”
“I’ll have to tell Geoff about this, Mouse. I mean, what if you’re right? What if it is some business thing? He should be warned.”
“That’s up to you, darling Bess,” Mouse said, as the money ran out and the call terminated, leaving her with more questions than answers.
“You say your little mate Mouse is a fair-dinkum expert?” Geoff asked, having listened to her story with a growing mix of skepticism and annoyance. But at least he hadn’t made a fuss when she insisted they check on Lady, which got them outside the house to where, she hoped, it was safe to talk. If the phones were bugged, what else?
“Mouse is perhaps the best hacker in Colorado, if not the entire United States,” she insisted. “If they ever caught him for a tenth of what he’s done, he’d be in jail for life, although he assures me he's never done anything truly harmful. He's never stolen money, or ruined anybody's' system. He’s just... curious.”
“That kind of curiosity can propel a hacker right into the FBI witness protection program, Bess. You say your little rodent's not harmful? Have you checked your bank account lately?”
“Stop it, Geoff! You should be grateful he took the trouble to warn you.”
“He didn’t warn me. He warned you, which is quite a different kettle of fish. But yes, when you chat with him again, offer my heartfelt thanks. Just don’t do it from here until we manage to sort out what’s happening. Okay?”
“Well, obviously I’m not going to do it from here,” she retorted. “And when you do get it figured out, I expect you to apologize for all the nasty things you’ve said about him. Mouse is one of my dearest friends.”
“Any friend of yours, etcetera,” Geoff replied, but his grin took the sting out of it. “Now, let's go back in the house and I'll make a phone call. Don’t get your knickers in a knot at what I’m saying, just play along and stay cool.”
Whereupon, Geoff walked straight into his office and punched out a phone number from memory. “Ida? Geoff here,” he said. “How was Fiji? I’ll bet you have a splendid tan, which I can hardly wait to investigate. Yes, of course all over, otherwise there’d be no fun to it, would there? However, I have something perhaps more interesting to suggest. There's this rather spiffy looking little redhead from America who's staying with me. She's very, very choice, and I wondered if you still got all hot and bothered over threesomes.”
Bess was still gasping, open-mouthed, when he finished listening to whatever Ida had to say. “Terrific!” Geoff didn't quite shout, but his enthusiasm was unmistakable. “Yes, three o’clock would be spot on... give us time for a little fun and games, then we can all go on to dinner someplace... the casino, maybe.”
Another pause. “Yes, darling, I’m sure she’s brought something appropriate for the occasion. Bess is a very broad-minded girl, for an American. What do you mean, how do I know? Darling, have I ever lied to you? Would I lie to you? But make sure you bring your gear, all of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t need it all. Okay, I'll see you at three, and yes, the American and I will be prepared.”
Geoff hung up the phone, turned to look directly at Bess, and signaled that she mustn’t blow her stack. Confused and furious, she flung away his hand when he took her arm and tried to maneuver her outside. Still, she followed him, half prepared to deliver a swift kick to his rump.
“What the hell was that all about?” she said, once they’d reached the bottom of the garden and had somehow both accepted that it might be safe to talk there. “A threesome? What are you playing at, Geoffrey Barrett? It had better be a good explanation, because I am not one damned bit amused.”
“Lighten up, Bess. Your little mate Mouse isn’t the only person who can be cryptic, you know. I was arranging a bit of a diversion so we can find out if we’re under surveillance, and if so, how so and how bad it is, that’s all.”
“With someone named Ida? Someone who is very clearly an old and familiar acquaintance, judging from the first part of your conversation?”
“That, dear lady, falls into the category of being none of your business.”
Geoff 's voice held sufficient steel to suggest it would not only be a waste of time to pursue the subject, but possibly dangerous as well. Bess took the hint, but she didn't feel very gracious.
She felt even less gracious when, at a quarter to three, Geoff instructed her to go and change into something sultry. “Did you happen to bring a peignoir, by any chance,” he asked, and there was no tease in his tone. When she protested that of course she hadn’t, he retreated to his own quarters. Soon he emerged with a heavy, silk brocade Chinese-style dressing gown, which he thrust at her with one hand as he gestured the need for discretion with his other. Then, as she emphatically shook her head, curls flying every which way, he pulled her into a quick embrace.
“Play along, damn it,” he whispered into her ear. “We don't know yet if the whole damned house is bugged, and we have to assume that we may be watched as well. Change into the gown, and try not to act surprised when you come out and find me wearing something similar. Now go!”
A gentle pat on her buttocks sent Bess scrambling for her own room, all too aware of having opened a Pandora’s Box she could have very well done without.
The gown fit her perfectly, which should have pleased her but somehow didn’t. Worse was returning downstairs to find Geoff in a gown that was not only similar, but clearly part of a matched set. His fit perfectly, too, and served to enhance his masculinity, the pale jade color highlighting the color of his eyes.
Was this matched set left over from the “child bride” days he'd written about on their authors' loop? Or from some other liaison that Bess probably didn’t want to know about? She considered asking, but the thought disappeared with the ringing of the door chimes. Whereupon, Geoff stopped closing various curtains and drapes and went off to answer the door.
Bess didn’t know what she had expected Ida to look like, even though Geoff's phone conversation should have warned her. The vision who entered the room possessed pale, honey-blonde hair, and she was striking! Furthermore, Bess hadn’t missed the way Geoff and Ida embraced in the entrance before strolling inside together, nor the tinge of jealousy that flickered through her own mind at the sight. No, not jealousy. Envy. Paul had never been demonstrative.
Ida was the same size as Bess – she could have worn this gown, Bess thought. Ida would never see forty again, but could have passed for thirty-five in most lights. Full-breasted, she had a figure most women of twenty-five would kill for. She wore clothing that conformed to her shape; a nicely-tailored suit that revealed beautiful legs, yet was business-like in the extreme, despite accentuating a wondrous tan. How a woman with her coloring could take such a tan, Bess – who burned if she sat too long near a light bulb – could not imagine. And to top it off, Ida had a smile that could melt male hearts.
“Ida, this is Bess,” Geoff said by way of introduction. “She’s visiting from Colorado, in America.”
“Bess Carson.” Reaching out to shake
hands, Bess realized that Ida had one major asset that dwarfed all the others. She positively radiated sexuality.
There was nothing brazen about her, nothing cheap. She was clearly a lady, and a woman comfortable in herself and her world. But the sexuality hung about her like an aura, a perfume. She was a man’s woman in every way, and Bess suddenly felt profoundly provincial, very much like Geoff's perception of Kate, the fictional “flower” of Victorian modesty. Too bad she didn't have a fever, Bess thought. Too bad she couldn't retreat to a Captain's cabin.
After giving Bess's hand a firm shake, Ida turned to Geoff. “Finish drawing the drapes, darling,” she said, casually leading him over to where one set of drapes remained open.
Without so much as a glance at either the window or Bess, Ida flowed around Geoff, her arms gathering his head to bring it down to her mouth, then clenching at his shoulders as she met his lips with a kiss that Bess thought could have melted the ice in arctic wastes. In fact, Bess had never seen a kiss quite so arousing, and was staring in disbelief when she realized that the blonde had motioned to her.
“Maybe you ought to close the drapes, Colorado,” Ida said. “I think perhaps we’re a bit busy here.” Her smile flashed in a gesture that could have meant laughter at Bess’s discomfort or just delight at being alive and in a man’s arms.
But the fun stopped the instant the final drape was drawn. “That was just to warm you up, Geoffrey darling,” Ida said in a deliberately sultry voice. “Now let me see if your young lady here is as exquisitely sexy as she looks. You do make a lovely couple, you know, and she does have beautiful hair. I'd kill for that color. Try not to make too much noise or get too impatient, my darlings, at least not until the cameras are ready. Because the last time we did this, Geoffrey darling, the sound levels were quite horrid.”
Bess stared. Geoff grinned wickedly and reached out to take her hand. As Ida delved into an enormous hat-box – the aforementioned gear, Bess assumed – Geoff motioned with an upraised finger for Bess to be silent, then led her over to the nearest sofa and sat her down beside him. “You ought to be able to fake this part; you’ve written about it often enough,” he whispered in her ear. “Just moan a lot, but not too much or too loud, and pretend we’re lost in passion.”
It would have been easier to pretend, Bess thought, if Geoff hadn’t been sitting two feet away, his gaze fixed on Ida as she moved around the room with some sort of instrument in her hands and a set of headphones clamped to her ears. And it would have been much easier if Geoff's moans hadn’t sounded as phony as a three-dollar bill. But then her own couldn’t have sounded much better, uttered as they were over the growing desire to giggle insanely at the whole scenario.
Ida, however, was not giggling, although she did occasionally add a sultry comment. Her lovely face was stern, no sign of a smile now. Whatever she was finding didn’t please her at all.
“Keep on doing what you're doing, darlings,” she finally said. “I have to make a little trip to the loo, then I’ll come join you and we’ll see if we can’t really steam things up.”
Her voice didn’t match her expression, Bess thought, watching Ida stalk off, her instruments still in hand, her hips swinging, her gorgeous legs flexing with each stride. Geoff continued panting and sighing, and Bess tried to match the tempo he was creating. But giggles kept erupting in her throat like unladylike burps, and she didn’t dare meet his eyes lest she lose it all together.
“It’s all right to let yourself go,” he suddenly said, and leaned over to gather her into his arms in a gesture so quick, so unexpected, she had no chance to defend herself. Then his lips were there, touching at her ear as he murmured delicious ideas in a stage whisper that should have carried across the room.
“Easy for you to say,” she whispered back in a stage whisper of her own, not having to fake the trembling in her voice as his fingers tucked back her hair and began to idly caress her neck and throat. “You don’t have to compete with Ida.”
“Compete? This isn’t a competition, darling. This is just two wonderful ladies providing me with every man’s secret dream. You and Ida... redhead and blonde... fire and ice. Both beautiful, both sensual, both...”
Whatever he was going to say next got lost in Ida’s return. “Goodness, it’s hot in here,” she said, snatching up a camera. “Let us retire to the patio, darlings, so that I can get some happy-snaps of the two of you while there's still enough light outside.”
Geoff scrambled to join Ida, and Bess felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief. She wanted nothing more than to get away from the effect Geoff’s caresses were having on her, especially in front of Ida. That sort of thing, she found herself thinking, should be private, damn it, even if it was only a charade for... for what?
They moved to a bower at the rear of the patio. Ida smiled a great deal as she carefully posed Geoff and Bess for a series of pictures that, while perhaps suggestive, were nothing Bess couldn’t have sent to her friends.
“The phones are bugged and I’d bet money they’ve hacked into your email system,” Ida whispered, while setting up a new pose. “I can’t find anything else in the house, but I don’t want to take a chance until I can do a better sweep with better equipment. Now, look radiant, Colorado. Think of Mel Gibson if it helps.”
They returned to the house, where they hammed it up more and more until all three were howling with laughter. Ida had a genuine talent for such theatrics, and guided them expertly as she wandered through various rooms, using first one meter, then another, checking for any surveillance equipment she might have missed.
“Show’s over,” she finally announced. as all three walked outside again, away from the house. “And I’m sorry to inform you that unless this mob is better than I am, we've probably squandered our theatrical careers. Waste of good talent, that... we should all be on the stage. Anyway, Geoffrey darling, what do you want to do about your phones and computer?”
“You have a suggestion, I’m sure,” he said with one of his wild, buccaneer grins. “I can see the light of battle in your baby blues. I know you too well, Ida.”
“Ah yes, you do indeed.”
Ida had the decency not to look at Bess as she spoke, but there was something in her sudden demureness that told Bess far more than she really wanted to know.
Then the moment passed, and Ida was all business again. “I think you should leave things as they are, Geoffrey darling. I’ll put some of my people to work and see if we can’t find out who’s involved in this. Suit you?”
“Right down to the ground, but let’s figure it out quickly, Ida. Because if I’m right, it has something to do with this damned take-over thing I’ve been fighting. And if they've reached the point where they want to play dirty pool, I might have to change my own tactics.”
“Done. Now I suggest you both change clothes, and you, Geoffrey darling, can take us all to dinner at the Casino. I can get onto my mob by phone from there. I wouldn’t even trust my cell phone here.”
“Ida, you're a woman of stone,” Geoff said with a shake of his head. “You’re going to charge me an arm and a leg for this, and now you want dinner on top of it?”
“But of course, darling. After all, you didn’t give me all the other wonderful things you promised. Which I know only too well you could,” she added, a mischievous gleam in those wide blue eyes. “I’m sure Colorado just adores oysters. Don’t you, love?”
“Yes I do, and, except for one measly dress-up dinner, all that cheapskate over there gives me is pub food,” Bess found herself saying, falling in with Ida's mood.
She and Ida had a splendid time, uniting to harass poor Geoff until he threatened to leave them. Eventually, he joined in, helping to create an evening Bess thought she might never forget. The only slight note of discord was the way she felt when Ida waved goodbye, first bestowing her patented smile on Geoff.
“Now darlings, I leave you with two final thoughts,” she said over her shoulder. “Be careful what you say inside that house
until my people get through checking it tomorrow. And Geoffrey darling, I know how you adore oysters, just as Colorado here does, but remember that you’ve eaten four dozen between you, and if you go home and try to make all of them work you’ll do yourselves an injury. Trust me!”
The remark set Bess’s heart to thundering. And the champagne she’d consumed with dinner didn’t exactly reduce her pulse rate.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Your Ida is really something else.” Bess said the words without thinking. She was still flying, the champagne having gone to her head.
“You've become a master of understatement,” Geoff replied, not taking his eyes off the road. It was getting on for pub-closing time, and while he hadn’t had enough champagne to worry about being breathalyzed, there were plenty out on the roads who drove with an uncaring recklessness.
“A mistress of understatement, Geoffrey darling. And do I detect a faint note of disapproval in your voice? That surprises me. I got the impression you and Ida knew each other very, very well.”
“Just leave it there, Bess. It’s not a subject we ought to be getting into.”
“Why? I think she’s really nice. And she’s got your number, Geoffrey Barrett darling. It was quite sweet, really, to see the way she teased you.”
Geoff said nothing, didn’t so much as glance at her, but Bess saw the way his jaw muscles tightened, could see those sensitive nostrils flaring. Ida wasn’t the only woman who could push his buttons, she thought, and without further consideration continued trying.
“Not that anyone could blame you, Geoffrey darling. She’s very attractive, for her age. That figure, and those legs. I know women who’d kill to have legs like that.” Bess didn’t get into the fact that she'd seen Geoff, along with others at the casino, paying as much attention to her legs as they had to Ida’s. “And she has the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. If she could patent it, she’d put the light-bulb people out of business...”
Finding Bess Page 9
