“The man practically oozes ulterior motives,” Mel said. “He probably figured you could get him out of the Penelope mess as easy as I could.”
Tracy crossed her arms, determined to savor the moment. “No way. I told him you were training her, not me.” She refused to believe Leon just wanted something. He’d seemed so sweet, so sincere. And, besides, he knew darn well that Mel was in charge of the animals. How much power did he think an assistant had? She stood up straighter, hoping to convince herself as much as her boss. “He was
flirting
, Mel. I know flirting when I see it.”
“Forgive me if I don’t drool.”
“Oh, come on. You have to admit he’s cute.”
Mel looked at her over the top of her aviator sunglasses. “I’ll go you one better, kid. I think the man’s positively gorgeous.”
“See?”
“See what? See you making a fool out of yourself?”
Tracy scowled. “Okay. You win. I admit I might be getting a little bit carried away, but I haven’t even had a date in six months—”
“Maybe the men just can’t catch you. You work so much.”
“I work for you, remember?” Tracy countered.
“And I appreciate it,” Mel said, the sincerity in her voice ringing through. Although Mel had been in the business for years, she’d only recently opened her own company, and— except for the two college interns who fed the animals and cleaned cages—Tracy was Mel’s one and only employee. At first, Tracy knew, Mel had struggled just to bring in enough money to buy food for the animals and pay Tracy’s salary. But now, Paws In Production was taking off, its animals regularly appearing on
Mrs. Dolittle
and a few movies that were filming around town. The company’s success meant that Mel was leaving a lot of the daily details to Tracy while Mel ran around town, having meetings, interviewing potential employees, and generally building up the company.
All in all, the situation was great for Mel and for Tracy, who’d gained a lot more experience than she’d anticipated when she’d first hired on after her grandmother died. The only downside was that she often needed to work long hours, and that put a crimp in her social life. Not that she’d ever had much of a social life to begin with.
“Well, how much I work isn’t the point. The fact is, men don’t notice me. Therefore, I happen to think that a guy like Leon Palmer—who could have any woman he wanted—flirting with me is a pretty cool thing.”
“Fine. Whatever. But don’t start thinking something’s going to come of it. He flirts with everybody and dates someone new every week. The guy’s a jerk.”
“He seemed perfectly nice just now.” A little arrogant, maybe, but Tracy had met enough Hollywood types to know that was often just a cover for insecurity. Of course Missy hadn’t exactly been her usual friendly self, but it wasn’t as if the dog was
always
a good judge of character.
“If he was nice, it was only because he wanted something. Or else he has a brain tumor.”
Tracy crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “You’re not being helpful. Come on. Tell me what I should do now.”
“Be afraid. Be very afraid.”
Tracy kept on tapping, her mouth firmly closed.
Mel sighed, her long fingers stroking Missy’s head before she put the dog back on the ground. “That’s my best advice. I don’t even like the guy. I mean, jeez, if you’re going to go all ga-ga over some unattainable guy, couldn’t it be someone you can fantasize about? I mean Leon Palmer is so
not
fantasy material.”
Tracy laughed. “I can fantasize about him just fine.”
“I was thinking someone a little more removed from reality. Someone safe. Like one of the models on those romance novels you’re always reading.”
Tracy’s cheeks warmed at her employer’s perceptiveness. So what if she had a little crush on a romance cover model? Her fantasies were perfectly innocent. And considering how boring her reality was, she didn’t intend to give them up.
“I bet those guys are arrogant and conceited, too,” Mel continued. “But at least you won’t have to see it every day at work.”
“Now
they’re
arrogant, too? You’ve never even met one.” Tracy cocked her head. “You’ve got issues, Mel. Deep, dark issues.”
“What are those guys’ names?” Mel asked, like a dog with a bone. “The ones on the covers you’re always drooling over?”
“Cherif Fortin’s one,” Tracy mumbled. She tried to control her embarrassment. Mel might have issues, but apparently they were going to explore Tracy’s. “And there’s also John DeSalvo.”
“Yeah, but there’s that one you really like. The dark-haired guy with those amazing blue eyes.”
“Hale. His name is Hale.”
“Just Hale?”
Tracy shrugged. “Maybe it’s like Cher. Or Madonna. I don’t know.” She let her head fall back as she sighed. Hale was always so nice in her fantasies. He’d come to her house dressed in a tux, planning to take her dancing. They’d never get further than the foyer, though; they’d whirl and twirl to the music until that last final note when they’d kiss...
Mentally, she sighed. Such a nice fantasy.
“Earth to Tracy, Earth to Tracy. Come in, Tracy.”
“Sorry. Distracted.” She shook her head, feeling a bit like Missy snaking off a bath. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Hale’s total fantasy, and if my crush goes any further than the two of us, I’ll have to hurt you.”
“Uh-huh.” Mel’s mouth twitched. “What I’m saying is, you should try to hook up with a real man, not some fantasy guy—”
“Leon’s real.”
“—But if you’re going to fantasize, at least do it about someone better than Leon.”
Tracy sighed. All her life, she’d been the invisible one, fading into the background against the bright light that was her grandmother. To be noticed—especially by a guy like Leon—well, that was a dream come true.
Mel didn’t look particularly sympathetic.
“Just help me out here, okay?” Tracy pleaded.
“I already gave you my best advice—run far, run fast.”
“Mel...”
“Okay. Okay. All I can say is talk to the guy. You know. Be yourself.”
“Myself?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, who else are you going to be?”
Who else, indeed? Tracy looked down at her tattered jeans and skinny legs. She didn’t have a mirror, but she didn’t need one to know that her shoulder-length, straight brown hair wasn’t exactly high-fashion. She’d pulled it back with a rubber band and as usual, a million tiny wisps had escaped to frame her face. For a model the look might be sexy. On Tracy, it just looked messy.
“Maybe I’ll be myself tomorrow. That gives me time to figure out what I’m supposed to look like.”
Instead of a sarcastic comment, Mel just gave her a stare, the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes softening the expression. “Is this really a guy you want to reinvent yourself for? I mean, fantasies are one thing. Do you really even
want
this guy?”
Tracy sighed, cracking the door for the truth that was pounding away to be let in. “I don’t know. Probably not for good.” He was arrogant, true, and the movie mags did peg him with a different woman every week. But if a guy like Leon wanted her, even for a day, maybe she wasn’t as plain as she’d always thought. “He doesn’t have to be
the
guy, does he? Maybe he can just be
a
guy.”
“So, what are you saying? You’re going to have a fling with Leon Palmer?” Incredulity filled Mel’s voice.
“Maybe.” Tracy stood up a little straighter. The idea did have a certain appeal. “Yeah. Maybe I am. He certainly seemed interested enough.” And that little fact flattered the heck out of her. Maybe Leon Palmer wasn’t Mr. Right, but at the moment she didn’t even have a Mr. Right Now. And who better to fill that role than a handsome television star? She stifled a grin.
In today’s episode, Mr. Right Now will be played by Leon Palmer
.
Her boss’s stern expression drew her out of her goofy reverie.
“It’s not like I’m going to marry him, Mel. I just want to see where this leads. I think he really liked me.” Tracy heard the desperation in her voice and added, “And I haven’t had a guy like Leon flirt with me in, well, never.”
Mel’s expression softened, then turned motherly. “All right. Go for it. Have a good time. Get all dolled up and knock him dead. Sound like a plan?”
“Absolutely.” Except for the butterflies jumping around in her stomach, not to mention the niggling feeling that pursuing Leon was utterly insane.
She pushed the thought away and smiled at her boss. “Thanks, Mel. I’ll knock him dead if it kills me.”
Hale yawned and stretched as he wondered what the heck was going on. He would have stood up and paced, killing time by looking out the windows, but the American Ops Center of the Venerate Council of Protectors was hidden deep below the Washington Monument. Windows wouldn’t have provided much of a view.
We go to California, we end up back here. My nerves can’t take this, I tell you. Up, down. Land, take off. Fly here. Drive there. I have sensitive sensibilities, you know. Stability. That’s what I need. Stability and a little R & R
. Elmer perched on the armrest of Hale’s chair, a morose expression plastered on his little face. He sighed deeply.
You really do have the worst luck with vacations
.
That Hale did, but he wasn’t in the mood to discuss it. Nor did he want to probe how thrilled he’d been to have an excuse to escape Bitsy and those other bathing beauties on the West Coast.
That
was a new neurosis he’d examine on his own.
He turned to Zoë, who was staring openly at the ferret.
“What’s he chattering on about?” she asked.
“It’s the onset of ferret psychosis. Ignore him.”
Elmer managed the ferret version of a glower, which Hale ignored as he continued to focus on his sister. “They really didn’t tell you anything about why we’re here?”
She shook her head, her coppery hair flying. “Nope.”
Hale frowned. He hated not knowing what was going on.
“I got a communique, same as you,” Zoë added. She took a deep breath and snuggled back into one of the overstuffed recliners that surrounded the hologram dais. “I just think this is so cool, don’t you? We must be getting assigned to work together on a mission.” She bounced a little in her seat. “I can’t wait.”
“Hold your horses, kid. We don’t know why we’re here. For all we know it’s a surprise party for Dad.”
His half-sister rolled her eyes and looked smug. Heck, she was probably right, and Hale needed to get over feeling so protective of her. Just a few months ago, she might have been a halfling, unskilled at handling her superpowers. But she’d proved herself by saving the world. Not too many people—Protector or not—had that particular claim to fame.
Still, though, he was her older brother, and it was his prerogative to worry. “Where’s Taylor?” he asked.
“Back in Los Angeles, of course.”
“He didn’t mind you coming out here?”
She laughed. “He knows what I do, Hale. Heck, he’s involved in half my missions.”
Hale nodded, that particular fact making him more than a little nervous. Taylor’s private-investigation business might be the perfect front for a crime-fighting Protector, but Hale hated the thought of his little sister relying so much on a mortal. Of course, considering his sister had gone and actually
married
said mortal, it wasn’t as if he could reason with her.
“Admit it,” she said, her voice teasing. “You like him.”
He mumbled something noncommittal.
“Come on. I saw you two last month watching
Star Wars
together.”
“It’s a good movie.”
“And you were awfully complimentary when he helped you catch those counterfeiters.”
“The guy’s smart. I never said he wasn’t.”
“And you let him drive your Ferrari.”
“I keep it parked in your garage. It’s not like I need it in Manhattan. It would be rude not to let him drive it.”
“And ...” The corner of her mouth twitched.
“And he’s a good guy.” Hale shrugged, giving in. “You know I like him. I’m just a little wary of...”
“Yeah?” she prompted.
His shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry, kid. It’s just that I—”
“—have a problem with mortals. I know.”
Hale drummed his fingers on his thigh, irritated. His “problem” wasn’t exactly unreasonable. Mortal-Protector relationships didn’t work. Oh, sure, maybe the odd couple, like Zoë and Taylor, or Hale’s friend Starbuck and his fiancée Jenny, but more often than not, mortals were not to be trusted. They’d tear your heart out and leave it bleeding on the floor.
Heck. Zoë should know that. It’s what her mom had done to their father. Hale had been a little kid at the time, and when Tessa had found out Donis’s secret, she’d told him to get out of her life and stay out. By default, she’d told Hale the same, and he’d lost a woman who’d come damn close to being the only mother he could remember. It had hurt like hell, and even though Donis and Tessa were back together, that didn’t erase the past hurt. His father might be able to forgive and forget, but Hale was smarter than that.
As if the past didn’t hold enough red flags for Hale, now Donis was cutting back on his Protector assignments. He said it was because he wanted to retire and spend more time with Tessa, but Hale had to wonder how much was because Tessa was demanding Donis change his lifestyle. She was making Hale’s father re-examine his priorities, and that, to Hale, was bad.
Zoë shot him a peevish look. “One of these days, I hope you meet a mortal woman who’ll bring you to your knees.”
And then we‘ll have to enroll you in a twelve-step program for mortalphobes
, Elmer chittered, shaking so hard with silent ferret laughter that he almost fell off the armrest.
“Don’t hold your breath, kiddo,” Hale said to Zoë. Protect mortals? Sure. Sleep with them? No problem. Fall for them? Never. For good measure, he turned to glare at Elmer. “And you behave.”
“Shhh.” Zoë suddenly held a finger to her lips, her eyes widening. “I hear something.”
Zoë superpowers included super senses, so Hale didn’t doubt her, though he did wonder what his sister could possibly be hearing considering the viewing room was supposedly soundproofed and cut off from the buzzing computers and clackety-clack of keyboards out in the central processing area. He didn’t have long to wonder. Soon enough Zephron’s image appeared on the dais in front of them, and Hale realized his sister had heard the faint whirring of the hologram projector.