by Lori Wilde
Rats.
Tess strafed her gaze over his hot bod. What an unbelievably sexy man! Tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped. And he was all hers.
Or was he?
Zack picked up his blue jeans from the floor and wriggled into them.
Bummer. No more looky-looky.
Tess went over to the phone and ordered fruit, cereal and coffee for their breakfast. By the time she turned back around, Zack had pulled on a T-shirt and was holding out a dress for her.
“Get dressed.”
“In this frumpy getup?” Tess made a face. If this was what Katie normally wore, well, the woman sorely needed a lesson in fashion sense.
“You chose it for the undercover assignment. You’re supposed to be the pretty-but-reluctant wife who doesn’t think she’s attractive enough to become a model, while I’m the overeager ‘stage’ husband who wants to make you famous and ride on your coattails to stardom.”
“Wow. What is this assignment again?”
“We’re trying to bust a modeling agency scam.”
“Oh.”
“Ring any bells?”
“Uh, sorta.”
“Do you think you’re up to this assignment?” Zack angled her an expression that told Tess he’d jerk her out of the action in a second if he thought she couldn’t handle it.
“Piece of cake,” she assured him.
“Nothing is as easy as it seems.”
“It’s under control.”
He looked dubious.
Their breakfast arrived, and they sat down at the table together to eat while Zack briefed Tess about the case, reminding her they had to be at a photo shoot in thirty minutes.
“Do I need to put makeup on?” she asked.
“They’ll do it.”
She watched while Zack extracted twenty hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and folded them into the breast pocket of his shirt. “What’s that for?”
“Smith asked for two thousand dollars up front for the photos,” he explained.
“And Smith is one of our targets?”
“That’s right.”
They left the room and headed for the elevator. Zack took her arm. Tess appreciated it. She enjoyed knowing he was right beside her, no matter what happened.
“You sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“Never better. Please stop asking.”
“Does your head hurt?”
“Nope.”
They stepped off the elevator on the twenty-fourth floor. Zack consulted a piece of paper he’d plucked from his back pocket. “Room 2413. This way.”
Zack found the room and knocked on the door. A thin man in skinny jeans, younger than Zack but older than Tess, opened the door. She frowned. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t remember meeting him, nor what his name was.
Was this Mr. Smith?
“Come in, come in,” the man greeted them. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
As if sensing Tess’s memory lapse, Zack leaned over and whispered, “Paul Smith,” into her ear. She gave his hand a grateful squeeze.
Someone had set many spotlights and cameras up around the spacious suite. Extension cords snaked across the floor. A balding middle-aged man with a craggy face and a cheap suit was busy adjusting background murals. Stacks of photographs and manila folders lay scattered over the coffee table. Two gorgeous young women sat side by side on the sofa.
“Zack and Tess Dupree meet Minette Soothesby and Jackie Vann. They’re here for a sitting as well.”
“Hi,” the one named Minette said. She looked as if she weighed fifty pounds tops.
“Nice to meet you,” Zack said.
“Oh,” Tess exclaimed, remembering she was playing the modest wife who needed coaxing. “You two girls are so thin and pretty; I have no hopes of ever competing against the likes of you.”
As she studied them, the word ‘fat’ popped into her head and shame assailed Tess. She didn’t know why the word would upset her so, she only knew she suddenly felt plump and unattractive. Particularly beside these razor-thin waifs.
“That’s so sweet of you to say, Tess,” the one called Jackie replied. “But you’re equally pretty. Besides, you can always lose a few pounds if you need to.”
“Tess is the perfect size,” Zack growled. “She does not need to lose an ounce.”
“The camera adds ten pounds,” Minette said. “It’s a good idea to stay ten pounds underweight when you’re modeling.”
“She makes a good point,” Paul Smith said. “It never hurts in the modeling business to drop five or ten pounds.”
“Wait a minute,” Zack said. “You said nothing about Tess having to lose weight last night at the reception. If I remember correctly, you promised you could get her modeling jobs in a few weeks based on her current appearance.”
What in the heck was Zack up to? He was playing the eager ‘stage’ husband, but right now he sounded mad enough to storm out the door.
“You’re right, Mr. Dupree,” Paul Smith said, smoothly backpedaling. “I never meant to suggest your wife was anything less than perfect. She’ll be in big demand as a model. Just as Minette and Jackie will.” Smith threw a conciliatory glance at his other intended victims. “Plus size models are quite popular these days.”
Oh, brother, Tess thought. She was inordinately glad she didn’t remember meeting this snake-oil salesman before. How people fell for this scam was beyond her. He was so obvious.
“Are you ladies ready for your makeup session?” the balding man asked.
“You’re the makeup artist?” Tess asked.
He swept a hand at the makeup brushes situated on the counter and nodded.
“Um, shouldn’t a separate person be doing the makeup?” Tess asked.
“Since we only charge a flat fee, not commission, we do what we can to keep costs down,” Paul said. “Besides, Karl is an ace makeup artist. He’s a wizard with both the camera and a makeup brush.”
“I’m okay with that,” Zack looked at Tess. “Are you?”
“I suppose.”
“I will have to ask for payment for the photographs up front,” Paul Smith said, holding out his palm. “In cash. Alas, this money is nonrefundable. But even if you decide against joining our agency, you will have purchased some lovely photographs for your personal portfolio that you’ll be free to use however you like.”
“You’ll sign a release form?” Tess asked.
“Absolutely. We have a template.” Paul kept his palm outstretched.
Zack handed over the money. Jackie and Minette dug in their purses for their share. Tess wanted to tell them not to do it.
The cameraman turned on his Spotify app. “Mood music,” he said as the strains of a current pop tune filled the room. “Like the professional models use.”
“‘Cause that’s what we’re gonna be, right?” Minette giggled. “Professionals.”
Not with this agency, Tess thought.
“That’s correct,” Paul Smith said. “We guarantee assignments in two to three weeks after we circulate your photographs. Remember, we recruit only the cream of the crop. We’re renowned across the country for the exceptional quality of our beautiful models.”
Both Minette and Jackie giggled in unison. Tess considered gagging.
“Who’s first in the makeup chair?” Karl asked.
“Me!” Minette raised her hand as if she were in grade school.
“Me!” Jackie said, striding forward.
“You called dibs first,” Karl said, pointing a makeup brush at Minette. Hop in the chair.”
“We’ll sit over here and watch.” Zack took the seat vacated by Minette and Jackie. Tess settled in beside him.
He reached over and took her hand in his. Tess looked at him. He winked at her, sharing their secret.
Minette took her place on a stool placed in front of a makeup mirror. Pouting, Jackie plunked down beside Paul Smith at the table.
“I hate that these poor girls are getting robbed,” Tess w
hispered in Zack’s ear.
“Shh,” he cautioned, laying a finger across his lips.
It felt good, knowing she and Zack would bring down these thieves. They took advantage of naïve young women with high hopes. She clenched her jaw, strengthening her resolve not to let Zack find out her memory hadn’t returned. She wanted these scumbags caught. The swindlers would pay and pay big if Tess Dupree had anything to say about the matter.
Whenever she leaned in close, she could smell his tangy aftershave, and the aroma muddled her senses. She tried to concentrate. Instead, she admired the way Zack’s neck curved into his crisp white shirt. No wonder she couldn’t remember anything. Zack was too darned distracting.
Just then a knock sounded at the door. Smith got up to answer it, and a red-haired woman walked in.
At the sight of her, Tess sucked in her breath and stared. Something niggled at her memory. Something critical to the case.
But for the life of her, Tess couldn’t recall what it was.
Paul Smith and the woman whispered together in the corner. They cast occasional glances at Truman and Katie, Minette and Jackie.
Truman shifted in his seat. He didn’t like the way things were shaking out. Not one bit. An uneasy feeling settled over him. A feeling he’d learned over the years not to ignore. A feeling that told him things were about to go bad.
Minette vaped an e-cigarette. Jackie gnawed her thumbnail.
The red-haired woman was frowning and shaking her head. Paul Smith stepped away from her and consulted with Karl Tandy. A few minutes later, Smith clapped his hands for attention.
“Excuse me, everyone.”
They all glanced over at him.
“I’m afraid there’s been a change in plans.”
Truman groaned inwardly. Something was up. Had they already blown their cover? But how? Did it have something to do with Katie’s fall in the fountain? Had the swindlers witnessed it? If that were true, how come they’d kept the appointment? If they were onto him and Katie, wouldn’t they have already closed up shop?
“What’s wrong?” Minette whined.
“I’m afraid we will have to reschedule this morning’s photo shoot.”
Definitely not a good sign. Truman schooled his features to remain impassive. “Why?”
“Something’s come up.” Paul Smith acted agitated. He stuffed his hands in his pants’ pockets and jiggled his coins.
Play it cool, Truman’s instincts warned. Don’t make a fuss. If they already distrusted him and Katie, pressing the issue would only confirm their suspicions. Better to back off and see if they could salvage this case.
“No-o-o-o,” Jackie wailed. “It’s not fair. We’re already missing out on part of the conference just being here. I came to have my picture taken, and that’s what I want!”
“Later,” Paul Smith soothed.
Truman shifted his eyes to the red-haired woman. She was the brains of the outfit, he decided. She wisely stayed in the shadows, allowing Smith and Tandy to take the heat.
“Thank you, folks, for coming. We’re really sorry about the delay. We’ll call you to reschedule,” Paul said.
“Does this mean we get a discount?” Katie asked. “I mean we are missing out on a conference we’ve paid for. And since my husband seems determined to throw his money away on this venture, I wouldn’t mind saving a few dollars.”
Startled, Truman looked at Katie. Damn, but she was good. Instead of whining and pouting like Minette and Jackie, she calmly demanded a refund. She must have regained her memory. This morning when she told him she was Katie, he had wondered if she was merely trying to convince him, but she handled herself so well that surely she must have remembered her role. Or at least that’s what he tried to convince himself of.
Truman jumped in, playing his part as if they’d rehearsed it. “Now, cupcake, money is no object for your career.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, stalwartly denying the lightning bolt that crashed through him in response to touching her. “We both know I’d pay double what these folks are asking if it would get you on the cover of Vogue.”
“Could we have a discount please?” Katie asked.
Smith looked to the redhead. She nodded.
“Okay, fifty-dollar discount for the inconvenience,” he said.
“What a deal,” Minette squealed. “Now I can buy those new shoes I wanted and get my publicity photos, too.”
“We’ll try to reschedule your appointments for later this afternoon,” Paul Smith said, giving them all fifty dollars.
“Make sure you do. My wife will be a star with or without you guys.” Truman laced his arm through Katie’s and guided her toward the door ahead of Jackie and Minette.
12
“What was that all about?” Katie asked once they were back in their own suite.
“I don’t know.” Truman shook his head. “It’s not a good sign, shutting things down and throwing paying customers out the door.”
“Do you think we tipped our hand?”
“Do you?”
“I don’t know.” Doubt flared in her blue eyes, and in that moment, Truman knew the truth. Her memory had not returned. “You still don’t remember who you are, do you, Katie?”
“Sure, I do,” she swore, but she refused to meet his eyes.
“Then tell me about your parents’ house on Lee Street. What style was it? When was it built?”
Her jaw twitched. “Okay, so I don’t remember. But you can see my memory loss didn’t affect my performance.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Not unlike some people I could mention.” She sailed over to the couch.
“What are you talking about?” Truman advanced on her.
“You took forever to jump in with that line about sparing no expense.”
“Forever? I didn’t miss a beat.”
“Oh, yeah? Is that right?” Katie crossed her arms and glared at him.
Truman frowned, not sure why she seemed irritated. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Admit it, someone distracted you.”
“Distracted? Come on, my senses are razor-sharp. I didn’t miss a thing.”
“You didn’t miss Minette’s legs.”
“Excuse me?”
“I saw you studying her like a side of beef.” Katie picked up a pillow from the couch and positioned it like a shield between them.
“Katie, it’s my job to observe.”
“Right down to ogling shapely calves?”
“Jealous?” Truman grinned, realizing that Katie was sea green with envy.
“Jealous? Me? You’ve got to be kidding.” Katie’s laugh sounded forced and shaky.
Truman eased down on the couch beside her.
Katie scooted to the far corner.
“She’s not my type,” he said, getting a bead on her with his stare.
Katie’s eyes widened, and she inhaled sharply. “Oh, no?”
“She’s too whiny, too empty-headed.”
“Is that a fact?” She leaned back to slant him a disdainful look down the end of her nose.
“I prefer my women tough and smart and curvy.”
“What are you suggesting, Zack?” Katie grinned and sprang forward until their noses almost touched, switching the tables on him.
How had he gotten himself into this? One minute he’d thought how cute Katie looked miffed, and the next minute he was nose-to-nose with a very sensuous lady.
Hopping off the couch, Truman hurried over to the kitchenette. “Man, I’m thirsty. Are you thirsty? Would you like something to drink? I’d like something to drink.”
Good God, man, you’re blathering.
And it was all Katie Prentiss’ fault. When he was near her, Truman could think of nothing but kissing her. His body yearned for her, night and day. Their investigation was hanging by a thread, and all he could focus on was the shiny glow of her honey-colored hair and the sexy gleam in her blue eyes.
“I’m not thirsty, thanks.”
Truman
poured a glass of water and downed it in one long swallow. He felt hot, boiling hot. Restless, he prowled to the hallway and flicked the air conditioner thermostat down two degrees cooler.
“Okay,” he said, returning to the sitting room and taking a deep breath to fortify himself against the heat and tension. “Let’s review what happened back there.”
“You mean other than you giving Minette the once-over?” Katie teased.
“Will you forget Minette?”
“Will you?”
“Dammit, Katie, we’ve got a problem.”
“Tess.”
“What?”
“Call me Tess.”
“Fine.” Truman threaded his fingers through his hair. He’d lost all perspective on the case. “Now what was I saying?”
“That we’ve got a problem.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Katie patted the cushion beside her. “Come sit down, you’re wearing a hole in the carpet. I promise I won’t tease you anymore.”
“I’m just fine where I am.” He winced and shook his head. He stopped pacing and placed a palm to his jaw. “Let me think for a minute.”
“You’re never this tense.” she said.
Tense? She didn’t know the half of it. If she had any idea how tight his jeans had become... Truman feared all the blood had drained from his head and pooled in his groin. Miserable. He was miserable with desire.
It was Katie. She was too darned beguiling with that come-hither smile, that great pair of legs, that heavenly aroma. He shouldn’t have involved her in this investigation. It was a mistake, one he was already regretting.
“Why don’t you recap what happened,” she suggested. “For my memory.”
“Good idea.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and avoided looking her way.
“Last night I remember trying to eavesdrop while the red-haired woman was on the phone talking to someone. Unfortunately, I don’t remember what she said, but I have this pressing feeling it was something important.”
“What?” He stared at her. “Why are you just now telling me this?”
“I didn’t remember it before. I got hit on the head.”
“Because you were silly enough to climb into that fountain.”
