Bedroom Eyes (22 page)

Tony nodded, pleased to hear proof the old man wasn’t totally bad.

“I’ll take care of my needs elsewhere.” Hinson.

“Mmmmph.” Disapproval clear.

“You like what I did to that fool with those noisy tennis shoes?”

“You gotta talk like you have a big mouth all the time? They teach you that at Harvard?” The old man rumbled, then the conversation died out, replaced by the scraping of a fork on china.

Steve lowered his earphones. “Got him on assault, at a minimum.”

Tony nodded, pleased by Hinson’s slip, but saddened at the thought of Squeek bandaged and doped, lying in a crowded ward at the charity hospital, his wife at home, even further away from her dream of carrying Squeek’s child. He’d stopped in to see him, but Squeek hadn’t recognized him.

Tony had stayed in the van two more hours. Inside the store the men played chess. Nothing else of much interest had happened and Tony considered leaving the listening to Steve and Roy when Hinson called, “Check.”

The move must have boosted his chutzpah, because he asked in his silkiest voice, “So who is my future father-in-law?”

Tony and the other two men jerked to attention, Tony for personal as well as professional reasons.

“He doesn’t acknowledge her. To do that would be to break his wife’s heart.”

“But he keeps an eye out for her?”

Snake, Tony thought. Hinson was fishing to see what was in the deal for him.

“All I will say is she comes by her legal mind through her father. He’s Chicago’s best, and if ever I need advice and you’re not around, he’s the man I would call. So if you try hard, you’ll figure it out. But“—the old man’s voice shifted to that of a father warning his child—”when a man doesn’t want to be found, it’s better to leave him alone.”

“Hmmm.” Hinson.

“We’re your family here and we’ll be that for your wife, too. Bring her to dinner. The missus will teach her how to cook.”

“She knows. Fancy stuff, too.”

“Imagine that. Never met a lady lawyer who could cook. So count yourself lucky and quit whining into your wine about tying the knot.” A grunt of satisfaction sounded. “Would you look at that—just captured your queen.”

Tony glanced over at the two other guys. Steve and Roy were good men—honest, smart, considered incorruptible. That’s why they’d been assigned to this post and entrusted with the truth behind Tony’s staged dismissal from the force. He knew Roy better and instinctively trusted him in a way he didn’t Steve, but chalked that up to personality differences.

He sensed them studying him now, an added measure of alertness revealing their speculation. How far gone was Tony Olano over Penelope Sue Fields? Tony watched them watching him, cursing himself for losing his temper and knocking Steve to the ground, and wondering whether they’d guessed the identity of Penelope’s father from the clues the old man had given Hinson.

Chicago’s best. The man the boss would call.

Reginald Vincelli—had to be.

Steve and Roy exchanged glances. Roy said, “Better to let Hinson have her, Tony. There are millions of other fish in the sea.”

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right. Just swimming around waiting for me to hook ’em with my rod.”

The guys had laughed with him and the moment of tension passed.

To himself he had said, “But there’s only one Penelope Sue Fields.”

Now, loitering on the sidewalk just outside the Windsor Court’s driveway as Penelope appeared sandwiched between two suited types, he repeated that line to himself.

It made no sense, his fascination with this woman. Tony had tried to argue himself out of being interested, tried to deny the attraction. She said something to the silver-haired man and he gave her a pleased look.

They shook hands. For once Penelope didn’t have her blouse buttoned all the way to her chin. He squinted, surprised that he couldn’t even see the top of her blouse today.

Her lips curved into the most appealing smile and her cheeks were rosier than usual this morning, her eyes shining. Tony checked out the two men from head to toe but couldn’t see anything so special about them that they’d make Penelope look so happy.

Perhaps it had been his kiss.

He sure wanted to think so.

“Move along there, no loitering,” a pimply-faced man in a hotel uniform called to Tony from the bricked drive. Tony ignored him, waiting to see whether Penelope left on her own.

A Cadillac pulled up, driven by a chauffeur. The man opened the passenger door for Mr. Silverhead.

The valet delivered the next car, which the other man claimed. Penelope got into the passenger seat and the two drove off.

“If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

Very funny. Tony shrugged and ambled off.

Like it or not, he had a telephone call to make.

“I have to give it to you, Penelope, you had Fitzsimmons eating out of your hand.” Hubert spoke more warmly than he ever had to her. He also looked at her more closely from his seat behind the wheel.

Penelope glowed from his praise.

“I like your new style.” He winked, then said in a more serious tone, “I don’t know what you’ve come up with on his tax situation, but I trust you to solve it. Now that he’s signing with us, you’re going to be one very busy lady lawyer.”

At one time in her career, Penelope might have corrected Hubert, asking him to delete
lady
in front of
lawyer.
But today she simply smiled and said, “I like to be busy.” Some leopards never changed their spots; as long as she got the credit and the work, she’d overlook his old-fashioned ways.

But what did he mean about her new look? She wore the same type of outfit every day, the conservative uniform that suited her so well. She shrugged off the comment and listened as Hubert added, “We were certainly fortunate to steal you away from Pierce, Turner.”

Her Chicago firm. Something niggled at the back of her mind as she recalled David commenting on the legal recruiting firm. “How did you locate me, Hubert?”

His brow wrinkled. “Well, that’s an odd thing. We’d pretty much settled on another lawyer when Greif”—who was one of the “of counsel” lawyers rarely seen in the office—“called and said we ought to talk to you through this recruiting firm. Said not to call you directly.”

“That’s odd. I certainly wasn’t looking for a new job.”

Hubert chuckled and pulled into the Oil Building garage. “Then I guess we just got lucky.”

They were riding in the express elevator, the same car where Penelope had first laid eyes on Tony, when Penelope asked, “Is Greif friends with David Hinson?”

Hubert made a sound of disgust. “Hinson? I should hope not. How do you know that snake?”

She blanched but said casually enough, “I met him several weeks ago at a pretrial conference.”

“Well, I hope your relationship doesn’t go beyond meet and greet. You’re not”—he looked at her with fatherly concern—“considering getting involved with him, are you?”

Penelope thought of the giant-sized engagement ring she had to return. “No,” she said faintly.

“Good. It would be quite sticky for our firm if you were to see much of him.”

“Oh?”

“He’s opposing counsel for the XYZ Shipping case.”

Penelope’s eyes widened. She knew that case was worth millions to the firm. She’d done some tangential work on it, all tax-related, and Hubert had already indicated she would be getting more involved.

Feeling weighted in complications, no longer buoyed by her successful wooing of Clarke Fitzsimmons, Penelope excused herself and trudged into her office.

She’d thought there was something odd about Hinson knowing details about her recruitment she’d never mentioned. She turned that kernel over in her mind, only to be interrupted by her secretary, who whisked in behind her and shut the door.

“Look at you,” she said.

“What?” Penelope tried never to be cross with Jewel, but sometimes her assistant’s good spirits rubbed her the wrong way.

“A new look usually means a new man.”

“What new look?” First Hubert had said that, and now Jewel. Penelope settled her briefcase and purse. As far as the new man, last night’s kiss had given her hope, but the way Tony had rushed off had plummeted those hopes almost immediately.

At least they were to have dinner tonight.

That thought cheered her. She played along with Jewel, who really was the world’s best assistant. “I don’t know what you mean about a new look, but you earned lunch at Commander’s for coming up with that scoop about Fitzsimmon’s yacht.”

“Oooh, you remembered to use it.”

Penelope half-laughed. “Frankly, I couldn’t think of anything else. I haven’t come up with one decent argument for his IRS problem. I lost my copy of the letter, overslept and had to wing it at breakfast.”

“Definitely a new man.”

“Would you stop?” Penelope sat down at her desk. “Any calls?”

“Several on your voice mail, and one other.” Jewel handed her a pink message slip. “No name, just this note.”

CAN’T DO DINNER.

Penelope crumpled the paper. That was that. He’d kissed her, found her uninspiring, and was blowing her off.

Jewel watched, head cocked to the side. “Bad news, huh?”

Penelope nodded, then pulled the Fitzsimmons papers out of her briefcase. “I’ve got a lot of work to do anyway.” She refused to let Tony Olano’s rejection get to her. The man could jump off a short pier as far as she was concerned. She didn’t care if she ever saw the man with bedroom eyes ever again. All he did was drive her nuts.

The pencil she had picked up snapped in two.

Jewel shook her head. “Don’t let it hold you down long. With that new look, you can get any man you want.” With those fine words, her secretary whisked out of the office.

Her curiosity overcoming her, Penelope rose and walked to the mirror over an antique bookcase. Peering in, she studied herself for any sign of change.

Her blue eyes might glow a shade bluer than they had the day before, her brown hair, thrust so quickly into its knot, had slipped into a much looser chignon than usual. A stray tendril of hair curled around one cheek.

She stood on tiptoe to check the neckline of her blouse. Perhaps in her rush to dress she’d forgotten to fasten the top button or two.

Penelope stared into the mirror, at the image of a woman who looked exactly like her.

But the woman looking back at her in the mirror was dressed in a way Penelope would never. The delicate silver chain and initial “P” pendant she always wore tucked discreetly beneath her clothing winked at her. Worse, the lacy cups of her bra peeked past the lapels of her suit.

Penelope stared at the woman, a female so unlike Penelope Sue Fields.

She had
forgotten
her blouse.

Rather than the wave of humiliation and embarrassment she had expected to wash over her as she regarded this sexy woman so unfamiliar to herself, she experienced curiosity and daring. If the lack of a blouse did this much for her, what would happen if she let her hair down at the same time?

Raising her hands slowly, Penelope grasped the pins holding her chignon and let her hair spill over her shoulders. She fluffed it with her fingertips and blew a kiss toward the mirror.

Gazing at this new self, Penelope sensed a rush of power. “Hah,” she said aloud. “Tony Olano, just see what you’re missing.”

Chapter 17

A few moments later, as reality set in with a shock wave, Penelope dropped into her desk chair, one hand pressed against the chain around her otherwise very bare throat. Not only had she made a fool of herself flirting with Clarke Fitzsimmons, she’d appeared in public half-dressed!

And now, faced with that fact, her first reaction had been to try to look like a complete sexpot in order to catch Tony Olano.

Whatever had happened to her common sense?

Mrs. Merlin, Penelope thought, wielding her letter opener and tapping it against one hand, had a lot to answer for. Before the day Mrs. Merlin had entered Penelope’s life, all had proceeded in an orderly fashion.

Since Saturday . . . Penelope shook her head, unable to finish the sentence.

“I can’t believe you’re blaming that sweet little woman for your own actions,” she said aloud. “You’re the one who’s let the man with bedroom eyes turn your life upside down. Mrs. Merlin only happened along at the same time.”

Glancing toward the door, Penelope reassured herself Jewel had shut it behind her. She didn’t need anyone to overhear her, compounding her embarrassment further. Even now she was sure her outrageous behavior at breakfast must be the talk of the office.

With a sigh she turned to her file on Fitzsimmons. Time to look at that Opinion Letter again; she had all night to mope about Olano.

She placed the letter in the center of her desk, but instead of focusing on the black and white text, she found herself wondering what Mrs. Merlin was doing this morning.

Was she at home, sitting on her front porch sipping coffee with chicory, eating anything besides oatmeal? Or had something gone awry, as things often did with the miniature magician’s spells, and Mrs. Merlin was even now caught up in a new adventure?

Penelope stared at the letter then at the rest of her desk piled neatly with work waiting to be done. She fingered the Fitzsimmons file and made a mental note to have Jewel make another copy of the Opinion Letter for her to take home.

She opened her Day-Timer and powered on her computer.

But her mind returned, again and again, to the message slip she’d crumpled. Bending down, she found it on the plush carpet beneath her desk and slowly unfolded it.
CANT DO DINNER.

The unspoken message was clear. He might as well have added, “Tonight or any other night.”

Penelope sighed, then something inside her toughened. Who the heck did he think he was, brushing her off that easily?

The old Penelope would have buckled, would have stayed at work late, not surprised by the rejection, expecting it, assuming she deserved it.

She straightened her shoulders and glanced down. The lacy edges of her bra shifted against her skin, revealing even more of the undergarment.