My Special Angel (22 page)

Read My Special Angel Online

Authors: Marcia Evanick

BOOK: My Special Angel
13.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

 

. . .

 

 

An excerpt from

 

Playing for Keeps

 

. . .

 

Tennie climbed the stairs feeling drained, even if it was only a little after midnight. The anxiety of finding out her grandmother was ill coupled with having to work with Reece until the mystery was solved had hit her hard. Maybe she should invent some emergency back at her office and let Reece take the heat for running her off. Only problem was that she had never run from anything in her fife and she wasn’t about to start now. When she left the security of her family five years ago to start her own business, she hadn’t been running away from something, she had been running to something. A new beginning. She was either going to make it on her own, or not. She had made it. Working with Reece for the next couple of days, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it.

The man inspired intense emotions better left unexplored and cloaked with indifferent or politeness. She was never indifferent to Reece and polite would be stretching the truth by yards. How was she going to keep these unwanted feelings hidden if she had to spend hours every day in his company?

She reached the second floor landing, kicked off her high heels, and rubbed her aching toes. Who had she been trying to impress with the fancy hairstyle, sophisticated dress, and three-inch killer heels? Reece that was who! The person who had seemed most impressed was one of the local cops who’d maneuvered her into a corner after dinner and tried putting the make on her. She had allowed herself to be monopolized so she could pump him for information about the case. She had been ninety percent sure the playboy cop was an actor planted by her family when Reece’s thunderous glare from across the room caught her eye. Who did he think he was? Reece might be her unwanted partner, but he wasn’t going to be her keeper. She had returned his glare with a sweet smile and continued to grill the cop.

Tennie inserted the key and opened the door to her room. Moonlight poured through the balcony doors and bathed the room in a soft glow. She closed the door behind her; with a deep sigh she tossed the torturous shoes into the farthest corner. Her suitcase still lay open with half its contents flung over the bed, the chair, and the small counter in the bathroom. It was amazing that the other five brand-new outfits that she had recently purchased had found their way onto hangers, if not into the closet. Neatness was not one of the top priorities in her life.

Weary, she tossed her small clutch purse onto the pile of shimmering undies scattered across the bed and, without bothering to turn on any lights, yanked the hem of her dress to mid-thigh. Her fingers made short work of the two garter snaps and bracing her foot on the bed she started to roll the silky nylons down her leg.

“Have you ever given any thought to declaring those legs as lethal weapons?”

Tennie’s startled gaze shot to her purse where a can of Mace rested secure and unreachable within its depths. As her heart started to beat again she realized it had been Reece’s voice she heard. Refusing to be intimidated or embarrassed she slowly turned her head in the direction from which his voice had materialized. Her fingers continued to roll the nylons down over her calf and off her foot. “My tae kwon do instructor told me it wasn’t necessary”—she smiled sweetly—“yet.”

Reece chuckled and flipped the switch next to his hand, flooding the room with light. He leaned against the jamb of the interconnecting door and continued to gaze hungrily at her legs. “I wasn’t referring to kicking someone to death.”

Tennie slowly lowered her leg and smoothed the dress back down. The other stocking could wait until later. She didn’t like the direction the conversation was heading. “Do you always stand around in the dark sulking?” She flipped on the bedside light.

“I wasn’t sulking.” He walked into the room and glanced around.

“Then what were you doing standing in the dark, spying on me?” She cocked her head and studied him from the new angle. He was so handsome, and his thick black hair cried out for a woman’s touch. He towered over her five-feet-six-inch height by a good six inches. Ridiculously thick black lashes framed a pair of deep brown intelligent eyes that always seemed to be asking questions. What they were asking now she couldn’t begin to fathom.

“I wasn’t spying on you. I was waiting to see if they were coming back.”

She glanced around the room perplexed. “Who was coming back?”

“The guys who did this.” Reece flung his arm out to encompass the whole room. A huge canvas purse was dumped upside down on the middle of the bed, spilling its contents across the quilt and onto the floor. Tubes of lipstick, candy bars, a can of diet cola, wads of tissues, a couple of paperbacks, and a wilted corsage were just a few of the items scattered about. “You better go through everything and see what’s missing.”

Tennie glanced around the room in amazement. Reece thought someone had ransacked the room. Whoever heard of anyone pulling a heist in the middle of the Montgomerys’ family reunion? “Reece, I wasn’t robbed.”

He glanced questioningly at Tennie, then back at the room. Understanding finally dawned. He stared incredulously at Tennie. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m joking.” Tennie pushed a pair of jeans off the chair and sat down. “May I ask what you were doing in my room?”

“I wasn’t in your room; I was in mine.” He touched the pile of clothes near the edge of the bed, realized they were Tennie’s silken undies, and snatched his hands back as if they were on fire. He quickly paced to the other end of the room and looked out the balcony doors. “I returned to my room about fifteen minutes ago.”

Tennie glanced at his sturdy boots, tight-fitting jeans, and his sweatshirt that hadn’t had the time or washings to lose its shape yet. He looked all warm and yummy. “Where did you go?”

He glanced back over his shoulder. “For a walk.” He wasn’t about to tell her he left the warmth of the lodge to wander around some pine forest in the middle of the night so that he could get a grip on his emotions. He had wanted to smack the lovesick-puppy-dog look off the face of that young police officer who had cornered Tennie. When he noticed Tennie wasn’t minding all the attention, he had stormed up to his room, changed, and headed for cool air and sanity. Whatever Tennie did was her own business.

“Find any clues?”

“Not a one.” Tennie had the same view from her windows as his room. Miles and miles of mountains, trees, and darkness. He ignored the panoramic view of nature and concentrated on Tennie’s reflection in the glass.

“Really, Reece.” Tennie crossed her legs and lightly swung the nylon-covered limb back and forth. “If you’re going to work with me, you are going to have to help discover some clues.”

Reece’s back stiffened as he slowly turned and faced her. “And what precisely did you find out tonight?”

There was such a sarcastic slur to his question that Tennie couldn’t resist teasing him. “I discovered that French-cut undies weren’t meant for this climate.” She wondered how many cases of frostbite of the derriere the local hospital treated each year.

Reece’s voice sounded like someone was strangling him. “Tennie!”

She raised one eyebrow. “You still haven’t explained what you were doing spying on me.”

Exasperated, he ran a hand through his hair. “I checked the connecting door to see if it was locked. It wasn’t.”

“So why didn’t you lock it?”

“I tried, but the lock must be broken. I knocked, and when no one answered I opened the door. Not knowing what an immaculate housekeeper you are, I naturally thought the room had been ransacked. Before I could make up my mind what to do I heard your key in the door and turned out my lights to see if the thugs were coming back.”

Tennie stood up and walked over to the wall unit containing the thermostat. She put it on high. “You must have made one hell of a Boy Scout, Reece.”

Reece gazed at her luscious bottom and tried desperately not to think of French-cut undies. He failed miserably. “I’ll call down to the front desk and have them send someone up to fix the lock.”

“It’s after midnight.” She rubbed her hands together. “It can wait until morning.” Having an unlocked door as the only barrier between Reece and herself didn’t upset her. She knew more about Reece and his mother than probably Uncle Utah did. When Uncle Utah announced he met and married Celeste Carpenter, Tennie had pulled in a couple of favors and had a complete dossier on both Celeste and Reece on her desk within days. The reading had been as interesting as traffic signs on a one-way street. Both Reece and his mother could have qualified as Supreme Court justices. Not one ounce of dirt, mud, or scandal could be found anywhere.

Reece watched her hands generate warmth and thought about her frozen bottom. He jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “Did you happen to hear any of the autopsy report?” He knew for a fact she hadn’t been paying attention when the report was given. He had heard bits and pieces, but he, too, had been distracted.

“I’ll have a copy of the actual report in my hands before breakfast.”

“How?”

“Jake the Fake.” She pulled out the remaining clothes in the enormous suitcase and tossed them on top of the bureau. With a triumphant smile she snatched up a lumpy gray sweat suit and headed for the bathroom.

“Who’s Jake the Fake?”

“The young cop with the overactive hormones.” She paused at the bathroom door. “If you want to continue discussing what I found out tonight, you will have to wait until I put on something warm.” She just about closed the door, leaving an inch of space to talk through. “Gee, if I would have known it was going to be this cold, I would have packed my long johns.”

Reece glared at the closed door. “What do you mean by overactive hormones?”

Tennie chuckled. “You sound like a protective big brother.”

“I’m not your brother, Montana is. By the way where is he? I haven’t seen him yet.”

“I’m not sure if he’s going to make it this year. Sue Ellen just delivered another baby boy three weeks ago. I guess it will all depend on how she and little Galveston are doing.”

Reece tried to disregard the enticing rustle of silk behind the closed door. “Why’s Montana breaking the Montgomery tradition of naming kids after states? Aren’t all his boys named after cities in Texas?”

“Yep.” Tennie’s voice was muffled for a moment. Reece envisioned the sweatshirt being yanked over her head. “There’s Austin, Dallas, Houston, and now little Galveston. Montana and Sue Ellen wanted to start their own tradition, and besides all the good states were taken. Montana always swore no child of his would go through life with the name of New Hampshire.”

Reece chuckled. “He has a point there.” He waited for the sound of running water to stop before asking, “Are you going to name your kids after states?”

Tennie opened up the door and tossed the silky dress over the back of a chair. “Haven’t even thought about it.” She was wearing a stretched-out, faded, entirely comfortable, warm gray sweat suit. She had scrubbed the makeup off her face and brushed out the fancy hairstyle that had taken her forty minutes to perfect. She felt more in control. More like her true self again.

“You never thought about what you would name your kids?”

“Nope, I haven’t even thought about having them.” She sorted through a pile of lingerie and pulled out a pair of thick teal-colored socks. She sat in the chair and put them on.

“Why not?” It had been his experience that any woman approaching thirty was at least asking herself about settling down and starting a family.

“First off I’d make a lousy single parent. My cats would starve to death if they didn’t remind me to feed them once a day. Second—”

“I didn’t know you had cats.”

“Dick and Peter have me, I don’t have them.”

“Dick and Peter?” Reece couldn’t prevent the lewd grin that spread across his face.

“Dick Tracy and Peter Gunn are their full names, so get your mind out of the gutter.”

He tried to force the grin into a pleasant smile. “What’s your second reason?”

“Mr. Right would have to be downright insane to marry me. There’s one thing I do worse than keeping house.”

Reece glanced around the room in horror. She was worse at something else? “What’s that?”

“Cooking. If it doesn’t come in its own cardboard box with microwave instructions printed on the back, it doesn’t get bought.”

He shuddered at the thought of eating dinner out of a cardboard box. “You may have a point there.”

Tennie wiggled her toes. The feeling was coming back into them. “I don’t think tracking down stolen jewelry, coming up with a motive for using some guy’s head for target practice, or following a sleazeball of a husband while he cheats on his wife are the kind of qualities most men look for in a wife. Right?”

“I guess not. Most men don’t consider knowing thirty-six untraceable poisons as a bonus in the marriage market.”

Tennie grinned. She knew of at least thirty-eight. “Why haven’t you tied the big knot yet?” She didn’t like all the focus directed her way and besides that, she was curious. Reece was handsome, had a body that was built for pleasure, owned his own business, and was intelligent enough to guarantee there would be conversation over the breakfast table for the next fifty years. So why hadn’t he married and produced the grandkids that Celeste and Uncle Utah had been clamoring for?

Reece looked uncomfortable for a moment. “I guess for the same reasons you haven’t.”

Tennie arched one brow. “You’re a slob too?”

“No.” He watched as that one brow shot higher. “What I mean is, I don’t mind picking up after myself and cooking can be a great tension reducer.” He started gently to push the scattered items spread out across the floor into a pile with the toe of his boot. “I was referring to the work we do. Most women find it exciting at first, but then the long hours, the trips out of town, and constant danger begin to wear the relation-ship pretty thin.”

“Yeah, most murderers I’ve met don’t want to be caught. And being stood up for dinner because of some hot lead just doesn’t cut it too often.”

Other books

The Big Hunt by J. T. Edson
The Book of Jane by Anne Dayton
Burn Down the Night by M. O'Keefe
Shaping Destiny by Hmonroe
Crazy Cock by Henry Miller
Murder Close to Home by Elizabeth Holly
The Shadow of War by Stewart Binns
Wise Blood by Flannery O’Connor