Step Into My Parlor (5 page)

'Thank God for little miracles."

"Would it matter?"

"You mean would I toss you to the big boys? No, my momma didn't raise me that way. I stick by my friends, but it helps to know the line you're up against." He waited for a response, but she clamped her lips together, determined not to say any more. "Okay, sugar, I figure you'll talk when you're ready. But if I promise nobody will sneak a peek, will you at least lock that thing up in my vault? It's safer than lugging it around with you. I
’
ll even give you the combination."

"I
’
ll think about it."

"Fair enough."

By the time they reached the shop, she had made a decision. The case
would
be safer in the vault than with her. If Spider trusted her enough to provide the combination, she would trust him with the documents. She couldn't live her life being suspicious of everyone.

Once they were inside and had stowed the containers of food in the refrigerator, she drew a deep breath and held out the briefcase. "Here."

He smiled as he took it from her. "I
’
ll take good care of it, darlin'. And instead of putting it in the vault at the back of the shop.
I’ll
put it in the one in my bedroom. Nobody has the combination to that one or knows it's there except me. Come on. I
’
ll show you."

He led her into the room with the big brass bed. Her attention zeroed in on red satin sheets, tangled as If a wrestling match had taken place on the mattress. Before her imagination could take flight, she averted her face and followed him to the corner where the pump organ stood.

He rolled the scarred instrument away from the wall to reveal a large gray safe set in the panel. Black jeans taut across his muscled thighs, he squatted in front of the steel door and dialed the combination, calling out the numbers as he went.

When the door swung open, Anne peered over his shoulder as he rearranged several small bags and stacks of bills. Her eyes widened as she noticed that the currency was in hundreds.

"Don't you believe in banks?" she asked.

"Sure, but I like knowing I
’v
e got capital handy. I learned my lesson the last time." He grinned. "I don't trust everybody either." He shoved the briefcase
i
nside, locked the door, and pushed the organ back in place.

When he stood, Anne touched his upper arm. The silver cutlass
i
n his ear gradually stilled as she looked up into his rugged face, shadowed by a faint black stubble. "Thank you for trusting me," she said, "I won't betray you."

"I know you won't."

His hand, large and strong, closed over hers, and his thumb gently stroked the length of her index finger. Sensation swelled from the spot in warm, widening ripples until a shiver chased down her back. Like twin blue fires, his eyes sparked and captured hers, and something in them pulled at her central core. Tiny rings of azure encircling the softly tinted irises seemed to darken and pulsate behind the curve of thick black lashes.

His callused thumb continued its stroking. Her breath caught as tingles spread through her breasts. His eyes were so beautiful, so compelling that she couldn't look away. The muscles beneath her hand hardened and trembled.

Unconsciously, her lips parted and her chin lifted a fraction. His eyes flashed, then shuttered, and his hand drew away.

"I've got to check on something." His tone was gruff, and he turned and strode from the room.

A hollow ache clutched at her chest and a stinging flush crept up her throat. She was mortified by her behavior. And his. She'd almost thrown herself at him. And had been rebuffed.

She looked at the boar's head on the wall. He seemed to be grinning. "I guess I'm not his type."

It was just as well. If he'd kissed her, things could have gotten complicated. Right now she needed a friend more than she needed a lover. Yet—she touched her lips—she couldn't help but wonder how it would have felt.

Business had been slow that evening. They had settled into mismatched easy chairs in the work
room off the rear of the shop, where Spider was watching a colorized World War II movie on television. Just before closing time. Anne glanced up from the magazine she was reading to find him staring at her, his eyes narrowed so that only a sliver of blue shone through his lashes.

Uncomfortable with his scrutiny, she quickly looked back down at the magazine and shifted her position in the chair, drawing her feet under her. After she'd read the same paragraph four times, she glanced up again. He was still staring, his face drawn into a mask so tight that the scar on his cheek stood in bold relief. His gaze was so intense and ominous that fine hairs on her arms rose with a ripple of chill bumps.

Determined not to put herself in the embarrassing position that she had earlier, she said casually, "Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong." He turned back to the TV.

Although he'd been the soul of patience showing her around the various rooms where merchandise was stored, explaining their ticketing procedures, and answering questions, something was different. Since their strange encounter in his bedroom, it was as if a subtle, but impenetrable, wall had been erected between them. He had gone from open and friendly to aloof, and his mixed messages were confusing. His behavior was so peculiar that she was beginning to dread the next three weeks of close company. If he didn't want her around, it was time she found out.

"Spider, are you—"

The door to the shop buzzed. He looked relieved as he sprang to his feet. "Customer."

Married,
he told himself for the umpteenth time. But Lord she looked so great cuddled up in that chair that he'd almost ground his teeth to the gums to keep from dragging her into his lap and cuddling her up to him. And when she looked at him with those big brown eyes
...
He knew he was acting like a first-class jerk, but he sure as hell couldn't tell her what was the matter with him. What a mess!

He strode into the shop with Anne hot on his heels, glad to see Willie Triner.

"Hey, Willie, how's it going, buddy?" He grabbed the weasel-faced man's hand and pumped it up and down as if they hadn't seen each other for years. The truth was they got together for a beer a couple of times a month. "What can I do for you?"

Looking at Spider as if he'd lost his mind, Willie frowned over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. "I got the stuff you ordered. You said it was a rush job." His eyes darted to Anne, then back to Spider.

"She's okay, Willie. This is my
cousin
Jennifer Anne Webb."

The man gave a curt nod, pulled a brown envelope from his battered briefcase, and handed it to Spider. "One birth certificate, aged; one social security card; two credit
cards." His prominent Adam's apple jiggled up and down as he chuckled. "I used Spider's number on the plastic, ma'am, so they'll pass if anybody checks, but don't run up his account
too
much."

Anne lifted her chin and said, "I wouldn't do that."

Spider threw his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. "He was just kiddin', sugar."

She gave an embarrassed little "Oh," and Spider couldn't help but squeeze her again.

"Well,
I’ll
be getting along. The missus and the kids are waiting in the car."

"Thanks, Willie," Spider said. "I owe you one."

"Nah, I haven't caught up with the ones I owe you yet." He gave Anne a nod and left.

When the door closed behind him. Anne said, "He's an interesting little man. I've never met a professional forger before."

Spider grinned down at the bundle of sweet innocence still tucked under his arm. He ought to let her go, but she felt so damned good close to him that he pushed his luck and kept her there. "He's not a professional forger. He owns the biggest string of print shops in town. Hell, he's a deacon in the church."

"Then why?
..."
She seemed bewildered.

"Willie and I go way back. I used to work for him when I was a kid, running errands, sweeping up. Back then, he only owned a one-man shop on the east side. He might have pulled a shady deal or two to keep bread on the table, but he's a good man."

She put her hand on his chest and looked up at him with eyes big enough to swim in. "You have a lot of friends, don't you. Spider?"

When she touched him, he thought his heart was going to rip itself out it was pounding so
hard. The flowery smell of her, the soft feel of her had worked itself into his pores. At that moment, he'd have given everything he owned to kiss her.

He tried to tell himself to pull away, but he felt as if the whole Pittsburgh line had piled on top of him. He couldn't move. He ached to taste her, just once.

Anne stood spellbound, fascinated with the contour of his lips, with the line that creased the lower one and divided it into two curves, sensuous and full. How soft, how warm his lips would feel.

His mouth parted slowly, and hers responded in kind. A yearning, deep and unbidden, unfurled within her and beckoned him with ethereal fingers. It swelled and swayed, like the eerie enticement of water plants rippling in gentle currents along the ocean's floor.

His face moved toward hers in maddening gradual descent, as if pulled by the force of longing inside her. His eyes glittered like blue crystals, and as he drew closer, his distinctive scent filled her nostrils. She breathed in, savoring the delicious sensation. Her lids fluttered shut, and her hand pressed and moved across the solid expanse of his chest.

"Oh,
Lord,
darlin'," he groaned, and his mouth captured hers with a consuming power that stole the strength from her bones.

He kissed her with a devouring hunger. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his kiss, she clutched the front of his shirt for support. Growls from his throat reverberated in her mouth as he moved and tasted and laved with his tongue.

Her fingers left the hold on his shirt and threaded through the thick hair curling over the nape of his neck. His other arm snaked around her, pulling her close along his rock-hard length. Whimpering, she strained toward the wonderfully ravenous siege of his lips and tongue.

Suddenly, he went still. His breathing ragged, his chest heaving, he pulled away and spat out a curse. "I've got to lock up." His brows drawn together in a single black slash, he thrust her away and stalked off.

Anne sat at the yellow Formica table in the small kitchen, buttering toast and watching Spider beat eggs as if he held a personal grudge against them. His face was drawn into a fierce scowl, and he looked as if he hadn't slept any better than she had.

Except for one or two grunts, he had said barely a word to her this morning, and he kept his back to her as he worked at the stove. Things couldn't go on like this. She poured coffee into each of their mugs and waited for him to sit down.

When he did, she looked up from the food he'd set in front of her. He sat hunched over, fork poised, studying the heap of scrambled eggs on his plate.

"Spider." she said quietly, "I think it would be better if I found another place to live."

His head flew up, his swarthy scowl even more ferocious. "No!"

She flinched and her fork clattered to her plate.

He let out his favorite expletive of disgust and swiped his hand across his face. "Lord, Anne, I didn't mean to scare you. I wouldn't hurt you for anything in the world. And I'm sorry about last night. Hell, I don't know what got into me. I promised I'd take care of you, told you I didn't mess with married women, and damned if I didn't come on to you like a pumped-up bull."

His hand swiped his face again, sliding over the dark stubble on his chin to rub across his throat as if he'd have liked to choke himself. "I want you to stay here with me so I can protect you. I swear-I
’
ll swear it on a stack of Bibles a mile high—that I won't touch you again if you'll stay."

His face softened, and pale blue eyes implored. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she wasn't married and that she'd wanted the kiss as much as he. But something stopped her. He
h
a
d
frightened her. And she had frightened herself. She'd never experienced sexual feelings as potent as those unleashed by his kiss. Jolted to the core of her being, she hadn't known that emotions as intense as those existed. She'd wanted to rip off her clothes and make wild love to him on top of the gun case. She shuddered with the memory. Anne Foxworth Jennings just didn't
do
things like that.

"Sugar?"

She looked up from the paper napkin she'd twisted into a tight blue snake.

"Please stay." He gave her a hangdog look. "Don't you like me?"

"Of course I like you. Spider. You
’v
e done so many wonderful things for me, how could I help it? But my life is complicated enough without—"

"Without me hitting on you. I know. I'm sorry about that, sugar. Just as sorry as I can be. If I could take it back, I would. But don't let one slip screw things up. You're a lovely lady, and the truth is, I'm attracted to you. Damned attracted. I'd be lying if I didn't admit it. I just let myself forget for a minute that you're married and don't need anything from me right now but friendship. You don't have anyplace to go, and I'd worry about you out on the streets by yourself. Please stay. I
’
ll give you my word that
i
t won't happen again. You're safe with me."

Anne hesitated. Maybe he did just want to be her friend, but, without even trying, he was the most seductive man she'd ever encountered. A six-foot-four hunk of animal magnetism. Raw sensuality seeped from his pores and invaded the air that she breathed. Even his hair was sexy. At this very moment, her fingers itched to run themselves through the enticing shock, thick and black as sin, curling over his forehead and down his nape. She wanted to rub her cheek against his jaw and feel the rough texture of his stubble against her skin. Her lips ached—

"I promise." He made an X on his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die." He gave her a slow grin designed to melt steel.

Warmth sparked and smoked low within her. If she stayed, she was courting heartache. This man was too far removed from her world for her to be
serious about. If she'd had another option, she would have walked out the door. But her practical nature reminded her that without money, there were no other options. She would have to trust him to keep their relationship platonic. She sighed. "All right. I
’
ll stay."

"Great!" His grin widened, and his eyes grew bright. "Eat up, darlin'. We're going to get your driver's license this morning. I figured you might have a hard time with my pickup, so
I’ll
borrow Fred's Toyota for you to take your test."

He attacked his eggs with gusto, but she only pushed hers around on her plate. Self-reproach crawled in her stomach with a hundred furry feet and made her queasy. It wasn't right to let him keep on believing that she was married, but it was an excellent defense against stampeding hormones. His
and
hers. At two o'clock this morning, after a restless night of tossing and turning, it had taken a great deal of willpower to keep from walking those few steps from her sensuously undulating bed and slipping into one covered with red satin sheets.

Her only salvation was the knowledge that she wasn't cut out for casual affairs. Perhaps she was prim according to today's standards, but recreational sex simply wasn't part of her value system. And she couldn't imagine any other kind of relationship with Spider. She tried to picture an unshaven man in jeans and black leather jacket, a cutlass dangling from his ear, sipping cocktails at an embassy reception in Washington or mingling with patrons at a gallery showing. It didn't compute.

Desire of the magnitude she'd encountered with Spider was totally alien to her experience. But she recognized that it was lust, plain and simple, and she refused to allow lust to win out over good sense. No, it was best that she not correct his mistaken assumption that she was married. She treasured the special friendship that had developed between them, but it was crucial that she and Spider remain friends and nothing more. When Vicki returned and helped her get this nightmare straightened out, she would be going back to Virginia to resume her life there.

With his head leaned back against the wall, Spider sat in a hard plastic chair molded for a much smaller person. Stretching out his legs, he crossed his feet at the ankle, tucked his fingers under his armpits, and stared at the tip of his

While he waited at the Department of Public Safety for Anne to finish her driver's test, he had plenty of time to think. And, as usual, his thoughts focused on Anne. There was nothing to do but admit it: He was crazy about her. Without making any effort, she had twisted his heart around her finger.

The door opened, and Anne came out wearing a big smile as she walked toward him.

"I did it," she squealed, waving a new license in her hand.

He couldn't help but grin as he unfolded from the plastic chair and stood. "I'm proud of you,
sugar. I think this calls for a celebration. How about a beer and a hamburger at Fuddruckers?"

She giggled. "Is your stomach all you ever think about?"

He looked her up and down, and one corner of his mouth curled into a suggestive message. "No."

She gave him a playful swat. "I thought we'd settled that issue."

He laughed and hooked her arm through his. "Just kidding, sugar. Just kidding."

Anne was still riding high as she gamely tackled a giant cheeseburger with all the trimmings. "Can you believe that I made a perfect score on my driver's test? I was a little nervous when I had to fudge on the application—I guess you could tell from the way my hand was shaking—but I did it!"

Spider chuckled and took a swig of beer. "I'm proud of you, darlin
’
. I never doubted for a minute that you could handle it. Now eat up. I've gotta get back to the shop to meet a production crew from the ad company. We're going to shoot some TV commercials at the Parlor this afternoon."

"How interesting! I
’v
e never seen a commercial filmed. May I watch?"

He ducked his head and drew wet circles with his beer bottle. "Nah, you'd probably be bored. Molly's planning to take you shopping this afternoon."

"Why, Spider," she said, giving a wry grin, "I believe you're trying to get rid of me. What sort of commercials are you going to do?"

"Just some stuff tied in with the holidays in February," he mumbled. "Are you about ready to go?"

Burgers finished, they drove back to the Parlor. Anne was smiling and animated on the trip home. Just looking at her gave him a warm feeling. If she was happy, he was happy.

At breakfast when she'd talked about finding another place to live, he'd felt as if he'd been poleaxed. He didn't want her to leave. In fact, he thought, he'd like nothing better than to have her around permanently. But the complications.

Of course, the big numero uno always looming in his mind was that she was married. Although eventually that could be worked out. He didn't imagine she would stay hitched to that slimeball she was running from forever. In the meantime, he would keep his promise to her and his hands to himself. It might cause a little pain, but pain he could handle.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that there were a passel of other problems, too. Anne had
big
trouble. But until this friend of hers got back in town or until she learned to trust him, there wasn't a damned thing he could do to help her out of whatever mess she was in. All he could do was be patient, stand by her, and be her friend. He could take the pressure off and keep her safe behind him.

Molly Painter, the short, perky young woman who worked part-time for Spider, was anxiously awaiting their return.

Spider peeled two hundred-dollar bills from his money clip and handed them to Anne. "Will that be enough, squirt?" he asked Molly.

Molly rolled her blue eyes. "Give me a
break."
He handed her three more and Molly nodded.

"Here," he said, giving her another. "See if you can find some cowboy boots and a western shirt."

"What in the world for?" Anne asked.

The rodeo's coming up, sugar. Everybody dresses up for the rodeo. And buy something fancy." He peeled off another bill and grinned. "A present from me."

Anne started to argue, but he seemed so pleased with himself that she smiled and thanked him. Spider was the most generous man she'd ever met—not only with material things, but also with his time and concern. No wonder he had so many friends.

She stuffed the money in her purse, mentally adding the cash to the figure she owed Spider. At the moment, seven hundred dollars seemed like a fortune, but only a month ago she would have paid that much or more on a single sports outfit without giving it a second thought.

After she and Molly made a quick check of Anne's meager wardrobe to determine what clothes would be needed, they said their good-byes. As they buckled their seatbelts In Molly's little red car, Anne said, "I don't see how I can afford to buy too much."

Molly laughed as she zipped out of the parking lot. "You don't know the places that I do. I
’
ll bet you've never been to an outlet store or a resale shop."

"No, but Spider and I did go shopping."

"Oh, that's fine for jeans and stuff, but the
stores I have in mind sell a different kind of merchandise
—
the kind you're used to."

Anne tensed. "How do you know what I'm used to?"

Molly shrugged. "I'm in clothing, remember? I recognized the quality of your silk blouse and wool slacks. Designer labels. Trust me, for what you paid for one blouse. I could have bought half a dozen similar ones for the same price."

"Half a dozen?
Really?"

"Yep. It takes more time to shop, and you have to know where the bargains are." She grinned and gave her short, dark hair an exaggerated pat. "Lucky for you, I'm an expert, dahling."

Anne laughed at the saucy comment. "I appreciate your help, Molly."

"No problem. I
’
ll use you as a class project. An entire wardrobe for seven hundred dollars."

Anne doubted that it could be done, but she did need only a few things, enough until Vicki returned. After all, she had closets full of clothes in Virginia.

Molly made a quick exit off the freeway, then twisted through a maze of streets before she pulled" up to a large warehouse building. "Let's try this place first. They usually stock on Monday mornings, and they have the best selection in town."

Racks and racks of clothes filled the gigantic room. Anne's mouth must have dropped open, for Molly giggled as she headed down an aisle with Anne in tow. They stopped at a long row of suits.

"I figured we ought to start with something basic. What size are you?" Molly looked her up and down. "About an eight?"

Anne nodded and Molly began flipping through suits like someone possessed, pulling out one, then another, holding them up to Anne, shaking her head, then putting them back.

"Bingo!" She jerked a camel-colored suit from the rack and held it against Anne. "Perfect!"

Anne fingered the well-cut fabric. "It feels like cashmere."

"It is. And only seventy-five bucks."

"Seventy-five dollars?" Her eyes widened in surprise. She'd noted the distinctive label. "It can't be. Is something wrong with it?"

Molly grinned and stuck her nose in the air. "Last year's collection, dahling. Think you can live with it?"

Anne giggled and lifted her nose in the same pose. "I suppose I can make the sacrifice."

Catching the bargain fever, Anne raced around with Molly, gathering up things to try on. When they stopped, arms laden with possibilities, they sought out a dressing room. Only a frazzled, olive-green curtain separated the large community dressing room from the showroom.

Lined with mirrored walls and racks for hanging, the area was teeming with women in various states of undress. Shy about disrobing in such a public place, Anne whispered, "Isn't there someplace else I can use?"

Molly shook her head. "Sorry. It's the price we pay to keep overhead low. If she can," she whispered, inclining her head toward a woman trying to squeeze her size eighteen hips into a size twelve dress, "you can."

For an hour Anne tried clothes on and took them off, with Molly passing judgment, keeping tabs on her calculator, and occasionally running out to ru
m
mage through a bin of five-dollar scarves and belts.

At last they settled on several outfits. 'These are wonderful," Anne said as she tied her shoelaces. "And I can't believe the prices. But are you sure we haven't spent more than seven hundred dollars?"

When Molly had punched in the last number from the price tags on her calculator, a broad grin spread over her gamine face. "Nope. Would you believe that all this is only three hundred and seventeen dollars?"

Anne's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding!"

Scooping up a load of clothes, Molly wiggled an eyebrow and said, "Stick with me, babe. You ain't seen nothing yet."

Laughing, Anne said, "I can't imagine anything more."

When their purchases were stowed in the car, Molly said, "Next stop, Bankruptcy Shoe Warehouse. Charge!"

Molly's excitement was contagious, and Anne couldn't remember when she had enjoyed shopping more. She'd been to countless showings and sipped wine in the finest houses in Paris, Rome, and New York, but she'd never had more fun than she was having looking for bargains in Houston.

They bought shoes and boots for unbelievable prices, and at a resale shop they found the fancy dress Spider had instructed her to buy. While they were there, Molly rummaged through the used
items and got excited when she pulled out a red Jumpsuit in soft challis.

"Oh, I don't think so," Anne said. "I
’v
e never worn red well." But Molly insisted she try it on. The supple fabric felt wonderful, but she frowned at the seductive image in the mirror. All she could think of were red satin sheets, and her face flushed
and her palms went damp. "It's j
ust not me."

"Oh, but it is. It's funky. And it's sexy. Spider will go into orbit. My special guy would."

"Molly, there's nothing like that between us. Spider and I are just good friends."

"Uh-huh," Molly said, as if she didn't believe a word Anne said. "I
’v
e seen the way he looks at you. To die for! I
’v
e worked at the Pawn Parlor for over a year, and I've never seen Spider so goosey over a woman. You're a lucky lady. Spider's great."

In spite of Anne's arguments, she ended up buying the Jumpsuit. Thirty dollars
was
a bargain, she rationalized. And the quality was excellent.

They wandered through a wholesale jewelry store, and Molly filled their basket with a mound of costume jewelry, most of which Anne felt was much too gaudy, but her perky companion insisted the pieces were the "in" thing and perfect for her new look. "Funky" was her favorite word. And even though Anne wasn't used to jangling and clunking and flashing as she walked, she had to admit that the things were kind of fun. Maybe being blond made the difference.

A pair of earrings caught Anne's attention, and she stopped to look at the small gold spiders with tiny blue jewels for eyes. "Oh, look. These would be perfect for Spider."

"Why don't you get them? He'd love
i
t."

"Do you think so? I thought maybe there was some significance to the cutlass. I
’v
e never seen him wear anything else."

Molly shook her head. "Not that I know of. He used to wear a gold hoop sometimes, but I think he lost it."

On their way out the door, Molly said, "Well, we did it." She checked her watch. "And in four hours and sixteen minutes. It must be a record." Her face lit up with a smile. "We have sixty-three dollars left. What do you want to splurge on? Another purse? Sexy lingerie? I think we ought to go back for the red polka-dot shoes we saw at the warehouse. They would be fabulous with the jumpsuit."

"I'm pooped. Why don't we save it for another time?"

Winter's early darkness was falling as they cut across a poorly lit area to the car, parked a distance away. Anne felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, and she looked over her shoulder, searching the shadows. Being out at night made her feel nervous and vulnerable.

With the sun gone, the air was chilly and she shivered. A gust of wind rattled a discarded sack and sent it sliding across her feet. She kicked it away and shivered again.

A car roared to life, and she jumped. How silly, she chided herself, to startle with every little sound. But still, she'd be glad to get back to the safety of the Parlor. And Spider.

Suddenly, an explosion pierced the quiet. Anne
screamed. Her shopping bag went flying as she grabbed Molly and dragged her down, flinging them both flat against the ground.

Molly yelped and tried to get up, but Anne held her fast.