DevilishlyHot (12 page)
Authors: Unknown
The girl’s brows drew together, the neon lights glinting off the silver hoop at the corner of one of them. “I think we might have wine coolers. And we have Mike’s Hard Lemonade.”
Finola stared at the girl for a moment as if she’d spoken in a foreign language, which Nick supposed she pretty much had.
“How about just another pitcher of beer,” Nick said to the girl, taking pity on her. After all, it wasn’t her fault Finola had just fallen to earth from the planet
Pretentious Entitled Diva
.
Pretentious Entitled Diva
.
The waitress hurried away, clearly glad for the excuse to leave.
“Why don’t we take a break and eat?” Nick suggested, handing Finola a plastic plate that was so scratched from repeated use that it looked more like a floor tile than a dish.
Finola accepted it, studying it dubiously.
Nick slid onto the bench beside Finola. As he served himself a couple of slices of the pepperoni pizza, he debated what to talk to Finola about.
“So how are the preparations for Fashion Week going?” he asked, knowing topics that Finola felt comfortable with would make her more relaxed. And he wanted her relaxed around him.
Finola immediately grabbed onto the topic, a real smile curving her bloodred lips. “Fabulously. This year
HOT!
will be the star of the show.”
HOT!
will be the star of the show.”
“Are the magazines as important as the designers and models?”
Finola raised a pale eyebrow. “Oh, Nick, I own most of the designers and models. There is barely a successful person in the fashion world who doesn’t have me to thank.”
Nick gave her an impressed look, although he was mostly impressed with her huge delusions of grandeur.
“We’ve definitely worked hard to be a force in the fashion world,” Tristan said, his gaze fixed on Finola as he spoke.
Finola nodded. “And our impact will move past the fashion industry into places the world can’t begin to comprehend yet.”
Nick nodded, although he found her grandiose statement weird. Was it this idea of tremendous self-importance that had triggered her to literally get rid of employees rather than just fire them? His gaze moved from Finola to Tristan and Annie, wondering if they found her words odd too.
Tristan watched Finola, but as usual his strange blue eyes were unreadable. Annie looked like she wanted to be anywhere else. She nibbled at her pizza, following each bite with a generous sip of beer. She shifted in her seat, and again Nick got the feeling Annie knew much more than she was sharing, but he couldn’t really blame her for keeping silent. If his feelings about the receptionist were correct, and she was really gone, then Annie could be in real danger.
Nick thought about what he’d seen again, as he had all afternoon. That receptionist’s behavior was so, so strange. Unnatural.
He took a sip of his beer, and realized that the prickling along the back of his neck had returned. He wasn’t sure when, but he felt it like a cold draft stealing up his back.
And now that he thought about it, the bowling alley, too, suddenly felt different. Suddenly it seemed quieter. Yet Nick couldn’t see that it was any less busy. He watched the group of men, who’d been boisterous from the moment they arrived. They still bowled, but even they were hushed.
The waitress returned with a plastic pitcher of beer.
“I require utensils to eat this,” Finola said, gesturing to the pizza.
The girl rooted around in the pocket of her apron, pulling out a set of plasticware in a cellophane wrapper. She held it out to Finola, who reared back as if the girl intended to stab her with it.
“I prefer silverware,” Finola stated.
“This is all we have,” the girl said, placing the set on the table. This time she left without asking if anyone else needed anything. Nick didn’t blame her.
“Well, that was rude,” Finola said, but reached for the packet of utensils. “I would think with the amount of metal she has in her face, she might have some real silverware back there too.” She glanced toward the waitress, who was headed back to the kitchen now.
“I guess this isn’t the type of place you are used to,” Nick said, telling himself he was imagining that the weird tingle along his spine was increasing. She immediately turned her attention back to him, offering him a wide smile.
“It’s fine. Very proletarian.”
Nick nodded, not quite sure how to respond.
“Anna actually picked out this place. She thought you would enjoy it.”
Nick looked at Annie, who suddenly looked like a mouse cornered by cats. Her wide gray eyes shifted from him to Finola and back to him.
“I—I always like bowling as a first date,” she said, smiling weakly.
“Sure, it’s a great idea,” Nick agreed. Of course anything would be a perfect first date if it included Annie.
“I think it was a great idea too,” Tristan agreed. He took a sip of his beer, and almost looked like he went bowling all the time. Almost.
“You must have a great relationship with Anni—Anna,” Nick commented, not really wanting to put Annie on the hot seat, but wanting to hear what Finola said. After all, she clearly hadn’t been pleased with so many of her other assistants. After all, even if she hadn’t actually gotten rid of them, she had had many.
Finola stared at Annie for a moment. “Yes, she is the best assistant I’ve had.”
Nick nodded, watching Annie’s expression. She didn’t look proud or pleased; Nick could only describe her expression as relieved.
Again, he wasn’t surprised.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from beside Nick. He turned to find a large woman probably in her late thirties. She wore a bowling jersey sporting the name of her league and plain navy blue sweatpants.
She smiled timidly at the table as a whole, but then her gaze stopped on Finola. “I’m sorry, but I had to come over. You are Finola White, aren’t you?”
Finola looked the woman up and down, dismay clear in her pale eyes, but then she managed a smile. “Indeed, I am.”
The woman beamed. “I told my bowling team that was you, but they said there was no way you’d be here. But I knew it was. We read
HOT!
all the time and see you at all the awards ceremonies. You are a real celebrity.”
HOT!
all the time and see you at all the awards ceremonies. You are a real celebrity.”
Finola raised her eyebrows as if to say “obviously.”
“Could we get a picture with you?” the woman asked, waving her phone at them.
Nick expected Finola to outright turn her down, and she did open her mouth as if to do just that, but Tristan spoke first.
“Here, let me take the picture.”
Finola’s eyes widened with dismay, but then she stood.
She posed beside the woman, looking like an elegant queen consenting to consort with a commoner.
“Closer,” Tristan said, gesturing for them to move closer.
Finola stiffened as the woman looped a meaty arm around her, but she managed a strained smile.
“Wow.” The woman beamed, checking Tristan’s handiwork. “This is just amazing. Like I said, I get
HOT!
every month.”
HOT!
every month.”
Finola returned to her seat and picked up her napkin. Nick half-expected her to wipe herself down with it, but instead she placed it across her lap.
The woman thanked the whole table profusely, then, tickled with her celebrity sighting, returned to her lane where her girlfriends admired and giggled merrily over her photo.
“Those women might read
HOT!
every month, but they clearly skip over all the articles we do on healthy diet and exercise,” Finola said, shaking her head.
HOT!
every month, but they clearly skip over all the articles we do on healthy diet and exercise,” Finola said, shaking her head.
Nick frowned, not only at her harsh words, but at the fact that the prickling feeling was intensifying again. He rubbed the back of his neck.
Finola looked around, seeming to realize no one else was speaking and she might have said something wrong.
“Well, enough magazine talk,” she said with a wide smile. “What are your interests, Nick? Aside from tracking down the bad guys?”
Nick considered her question, still rubbing his neck. “I mostly just track down the bad guys.”
“No grand romances? Surely a gorgeous man like you has had his fair share of past paramours.”
Nick dropped his hand from his neck, although the feeling hadn’t diminished. He focused instead on Tristan and Annie, sure they must feel the change in the atmosphere here. Maybe it was a real draft. Something tangible, not just something happening to him.
“Well,” he said after a moment, “I certainly can’t say I’ve had paramours. Or even grand romances. But I was engaged once.”
“What happened?” Annie asked; then her eyes widened as if she was surprised she’d asked. A blush colored her cheeks.
“Failed romances always fascinate me,” she added, hiding further embarrassment behind a sip of beer.
“I became very wrapped up in my work,” he said, feeling strange about the direction this conversation had taken.
And because my ex thought I was nuts.
“Well, I certainly understand work being all-consuming,” Finola said with sympathy.
Just then a squeal sounded behind them. They all turned, their gazes returning to the group of women who’d been watching Finola. And in the middle of them was the one who had just had her picture taken with Finola. The woman pulled at her sweatpants, the garment clearly having nearly fallen down.
Nick blinked, telling himself he couldn’t be seeing what he thought he was. It had to be another woman, because this person was easily three sizes smaller than the one who’d come over to ask for a picture.
How could that be? He blinked again. It had to be a different person.
“Oh no,” Tristan said loudly, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. He held his cell phone, peering worriedly at the screen.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes still scanning the screen, “but I just received a message from Donatella Versace. She is having a cocktail party and is highly upset that Finola and I are not there. I must have forgotten to add it to my calendar.”
Finola placed her napkin on the table, already rising.
“Tristan, this is a huge oversight,” she said, disappointment evident in her pale eyes. “I’m so sorry to cut this evening short, but I don’t dare offend her completely by not making an appearance.”
Nick nodded, glancing quickly over to the group of women again, but now Finola’s fan was gone. The others talked animatedly about something, but Nick couldn’t tell if it was enjoyment or concern that had them so lively.
“I hope you understand,” Finola said to Nick. “I really must go.” She touched Nick’s bicep, her long fingers curling around the muscle there.
The prickling intensified almost uncomfortably, but he didn’t move away.
When he looked up from her hand, he noticed Annie’s gaze also locked on the touch. Her mouth turned down and Nick got the impression she wasn’t pleased.
Tristan rose to join Finola, both pulling on their coats. Only when Annie stood, too, did either of them seem to remember her.
“Annie, is it possible for you get a cab home?” Tristan asked. “I think Finola and I should take the limo directly to Donatella’s.”
Annie hesitated.
“Don’t worry,” Nick said, despite the strange feeling overwhelming him. He was not about to miss the chance to be with Annie alone. “I can make sure Annie gets home safely.”
“I’m fine,” Annie said. “I can get—” but Finola cut her off.
“That’s sweet of you,” she said to Nick with a wide smile. “So chivalrous.”
Nick raised an eyebrow at that. More like opportunistic, but Finola would never know that.
“I’m happy to do it,” Nick said.
Chapter Eleven
T
ristan slammed the limousine door and turned to his boss, or rather the demon he was apparently expected to babysit.
ristan slammed the limousine door and turned to his boss, or rather the demon he was apparently expected to babysit.
“Finola, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, you cannot do this.”
“Do what?” Finola said, looking up from her dog, who had been waiting in the climate-controlled cabin of the limo with a dish of designer dog food, a bowl of Evian and soft jazz playing.
Tristan was starting to wish he was the damned dog.
“You can’t go all demon whenever someone upsets you. You are going to give away what you are.”
Finola kissed her silly little mutt, then gave Tristan a look that said he was being utterly unreasonable. “No one even noticed.”
“That woman was losing weight like a full season of
The Biggest Loser
on fast-forward,” Tristan pointed out.
The Biggest Loser
on fast-forward,” Tristan pointed out.
Finola frowned. “
The Biggest Loser
? Tristan, sometimes you make no sense.”
The Biggest Loser
? Tristan, sometimes you make no sense.”
Tristan didn’t bother to explain; it wasn’t as if the explanation would make her understand the risks she was taking with her erratic use of her demon powers.
“Finola, that woman noticed. The men you made silent noticed—or at least they will once they can talk again.”
“Well, they shouldn’t have been so rude,” Finola said. “And I don’t see why I have to ruin the aesthetics of my evening by being forced to look at unattractive people.”
Tristan closed his eyes, telling himself not to raise his voice. Getting cast back to Hell through her was the worst thing he could imagine; not only would he lose the wonderful pleasures of the mortal world, but then this arrogant, self-centered, spoiled demon would win.
“Besides,” Finola added after a moment, “I listened to what you said earlier today. I didn’t break the the soul laws by just casting them to Hell. I actually made them better. Now that obese woman is thin. Those men will hopefully think twice before saying offensive things to a lady, and the young girl will no longer look like a transvestite pincushion. Why, she might even be able to find employment in a finer establishment now.”
“You did something to our waitress too?” Tristan groaned. Of course she had.
Finola nodded, looking quite proud of herself. “I was practically a fairy godmother to those people. A fairy godmother from Hell.”
Well, at least she got that right.
Still, she needed to understand the risks she was taking. If they messed up after working so hard, both of them were going to understand what Hell could really be like.
“I see your point,” he said, keeping his tone calm. “But someone like Nick Rossi is going to notice things like what you just did. And eventually he’s going to notice that those odd kinds of things only happen when you’re around.”
Finola stroked her dog, actually seeming to consider his words.
“Which is also exactly why you shouldn’t pursue a relationship with the man. He’s too perceptive. And we don’t want anyone asking questions. Now especially.”
Finola was silent a moment longer, then finally nodded. “I do see your point, Tristan.”
He sagged against the car’s leather seat, glad that finally Finola seemed to understand that she couldn’t act any way she wanted and not expect repercussions.
Maybe he had finally gotten through to her.
“Now I have a bit of a bone to pick with you,” she said.
Tristan raised an eyebrow in silent response.
“How did you forget that we had a cocktail party with Donatella Versace?”
Tristan almost smiled. Finola White might be a powerful demon, but no one would say she was the smartest.
“Well, I could certainly use another drink,” Nick said as soon as Finola and Tristan exited the bowling alley. “How about you?”
Annie wasn’t going to argue with that. She held out her glass for him to refill it.
After they both took long swigs, Nick shook his head, looking around the place. Annie did too, feeling more relaxed already now that her boss and—whatever Tristan was to her—were gone.
“Well, that was weird,” Nick said, vocalizing her very thoughts.
Annie nodded. “Definitely one of the more awkward nights I’ve ever had.”
“Why did you pick this place?” he asked, looking around him.
Annie debated making something up, but then decided the truth might very well offend Nick enough that he would never consider dating Finola again. Not that she thought that, after this, that Finola would want to date him. It seemed Tristan’s plan had worked just as they had hoped it would.
“Finola asked me to show her how—working stiffs date.”
Instead of looking offended, however, Nick laughed. The sound was wonderful. By far the best thing she’d experienced all evening.
Annie wasn’t sure why, whether it was the relief at Finola being gone, or the beer, or just the enjoyment of hearing this man’s laughter, but she giggled too.
Nick sobered, his gaze roaming her face. “You have a great laugh.”
“You do, too. You have the best laugh,” Annie said, wondering if he somehow read her mind. Then she blushed. Yeah, it probably was the beer making her react a little differently from the way she normally would. Heaven knows, she wouldn’t normally tell him something like that. But it was true.
Nick’s gaze dropped to her lips, just for a moment, and Annie shifted on her seat, wondering what he was thinking. Was he thinking about that kiss they’d shared? The kiss she hadn’t been able to get out of her mind, no matter how hard she tried?
He smiled again. “Well, I bet you will never agree to a double date like this again, will you?”
She laughed again. “I didn’t really agree this time. I was just told what was going to happen.”
“Finola does that to you a lot, huh?”
She nodded, focusing on the plastic tumbler she held in both hands on the table in front of her.
“So why do you think Tristan agreed to come too?” he asked.
Annie frowned at the question. “I guess he just—just wanted to keep an eye on Finola.”
“Why?”
“They are very close,” Annie said, wishing he would get off this topic of conversation. The beer had also slowed down her thoughts and she was having trouble coming up with excuses that sounded sensible.
Then one came to her, another thing that might solidify Nick’s decision not to date Finola.
“I do think they have some sort of weird relationship going on.”
Nick raised an eyebrow, although he didn’t look particularly surprised. “Divas with benefits, huh?”
Annie laughed again. “Exactly.”
“I was wondering if maybe he’s actually interested in you,” Nick said.
Annie laughed, then sobered enough to give him a disbelieving look, then laughed again. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m hardly his type.”
Nick shook his head. “Don’t believe that. He was checking you out tonight.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Annie said, shooting him a look that said he was clearly crazy.
“He was,” Nick said more emphatically. Then after a moment, he added, “And so was I.”
Annie put down the glass that was halfway to her lips, her heart leaping in her chest, making it hard to take a drink. She hated to admit it, but she loved hearing him say that.
“I know I shouldn’t say that,” Nick said, again seeming to see into her head, know her thoughts. “But it’s true.”
“You seemed to be noticing Finola too,” she pointed out.
“The only reason I agreed to this date was to see if I could find out anything about those missing people,” he assured her. “Well that, and the fact that I knew you’d be here too.”
She looked down at her plastic cup. She loved and hated hearing him say things like that.
“All night I wanted nothing more than to talk to you,” he said, “to be close to you. But I also believe that Finola White is a woman who gets what she wants, and she’d get rid of anyone she saw as a threat.”
Annie didn’t answer, nor did she meet his eyes, afraid he’d see the truth there. That he was right.
Then he reached out, placing his hand on her arm.
“Annie, I know you don’t want to get involved in all this. And I know you have your reasons, and I suspect they are very good ones. But you have to admit some strange things are going on at that magazine, and they seem to revolve around Finola.”
Annie still didn’t look up from her cup, but her fingers curled tighter around it. Finally she nodded, just a slight, almost infinitesimal bob of her head.
“Can I get you another pitcher?”
Annie started at the new voice, and looked up to see a different waitress at their table. Annie glanced around, hoping, praying, that the first one was all right.
Annie spotted her on the other side of the alley, but she looked different. After a moment Annie realized all her piercings were gone. Losing her jewelry was far better than her soul.
“I think we are fine,” Nick said, drawing Annie’s attention back to them.
The waitress nodded and left them.
“Annie, I just want people to be safe.”
She met his eyes then. His beautiful deep amber eyes. She knew he wanted to make sure people were safe, that was his job, but in this case, he couldn’t do that. But she could see that
he
was safe.
he
was safe.
“Finola is a difficult, demanding and often unreasonable boss, and that is all I can say for certain about her.”
Nick studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”
They were silent for a moment. Then he asked, “So why doesn’t your boyfriend care that you’re on a date with another man tonight?”
Annie didn’t take offense at the question. It was better than talking about those poor missing people and having to lie to him about what she knew. The guilt of not being able to help them was too much. Too upsetting.
“I told you, Tristan and I weren’t on a date. Not really.”
He nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “Still, you were out with another man on what was being called a date.”
Annie shrugged. “Truthfully, I didn’t even tell Bobby. He was already at the theater—he’s an actor, and since I work late all the time, he wouldn’t even notice. And honestly, I doubt he would care.”
Nick frowned. “He wouldn’t care? I know if you were my girlfriend, I sure as hell wouldn’t like the idea of you being out with someone else.”
She supposed that kind of possessive comment should have offended her independent sensibilities, but the truth was, it didn’t. His statement made her heart leap and heat curl, warm and wonderful, in the pit of her stomach.
She didn’t want to be controlled. God knows she had enough of that in her career, but it would be nice to have someone care where she was, be interested in her enough to be worried, to be a little jealous. To want her.
Nice to have Nick want her.
As soon as the thought appeared in her head, she reprimanded herself and immediately said, “He has a lot on his mind. He’s starring in a play. Well, he’s acting in a play. But it’s a pivotal role, so that’s where his head is.”
Nick made an impressed face. “So he’s an actor.”
“Yes, and he just got a part in a movie too. A horror movie, but it’s destined to be a classic.”
Again, Nick looked impressed, although she noticed his coloring seemed just a tad paler and he glanced around the bowling alley before saying, “I’m not much for horror movies; I guess reality has been horrific enough for me, but that all sounds very exciting.”
She nodded, but her attention was focused on what he’d just said about his career.
“I bet your job can be awful. Which must be why—” She caught herself, realizing she was about to refer to something she’d discovered online while researching him for Finola. Something that would reveal that her stalking had gone beyond grilling him over lunch.
“Which must be why what?” he asked, his intelligent brown eyes searching hers.
Well, what could it hurt to tell him, since he already knew that Finola had asked her to find out all about him? “Well, I looked you up online, you know, for Finola—”
“Sure it was for Finola,” he teased.
“It was,” she insisted with a laugh, but she could feel her cheeks burning. “So when I was looking you up,
for Finola
, I read about quite a few of the cases you’ve worked on and the fact you took a hiatus after one particularly horrible case.”
for Finola
, I read about quite a few of the cases you’ve worked on and the fact you took a hiatus after one particularly horrible case.”
“The Midtown Murderer.”
She nodded. “From what I read that sounded like a truly awful case.” A serial killer who mutilated more than fifteen people before he was caught.
“It was,” he agreed, but Annie could tell he didn’t want to discuss it any more than that, and she didn’t blame him.
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