Snoops in the City (A Romantic Comedy) Page 4

  “It sounds like a coincidence,” she ventured.

  He snorted. “You obviously don’t watch crime shows on TV.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The cops never believe in coincidence.”

  “That’s silly,” Tori said. “If there were no such thing as coincidence, there wouldn’t be a word for it, now would there?”

  “If this is all a big coincidence,” he said, taking a step toward her, “why are you so nervous?”

  Her sweating palms, fast-beating heart and shallow breathing made denying it pointless. She'd never perfected the art of lying anyway. She doubted she could convince a three-year-old there was a Santa Claus.

  “You might as well admit it,” he pressed. “You were following me.”

  “Okay,” she snapped. "You win. I was following you.”

  “I knew it.” His baby blues narrowed and his luscious lips thinned. He could challenge Arnold Schwarzeneggar for the starring role if they ever made a movie called The Intimidator. “What I want to know is why.”

  She resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. She'd had such high hopes that she could excel at private detective work. Yet here she was on the brink of failing not only herself but Eddie and Ms. M as well. The thought of it made her feel like weeping.

  “There’s a simple explanation,” Tori hedged as she desperately cast about for one.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m waiting."

  One of the artificial spotlights shone down on him, adding light to his captivating features. Her eyes widened, the way they had the first time she'd seen his likeness. That’s it, she thought. The perfect explanation.

  “The truth is,” she said and took a breath for courage, “I think you’re hot.”

  CH APTER SIX

  Grady carried a strawberry daiquiri and a whiskey sour past a mostly decorative coral-and-marble fireplace in Honoria Black's great room fifteen minutes later, one phrase echoing in his mind.

  Yeah, right.

  Tori Whitley, if that were her real name, hadn't fooled him. He knew some females found him attractive, but Tori was hardly the type of woman who trailed guys around town.

  Besides, if Tori thought he were so hot, wouldn't she touch him the way she casually touched everyone else she talked to?

  Not that he wanted her to touch him. Much. Okay, strike that. He might crave the feel of her hands on his skin, but he was smart enough to know he shouldn’t.

  She'd probably been hired by one of the people at this party to spy on him. Maybe, as he'd originally suspected, she worked for the mayor herself.

  He might have figured it out by now if a City Councilman and his wife hadn’t strolled up to them seconds after she'd uttered the I'm-so-hot-for-you whopper.

  After he’d introduced Tori, she'd chatted and laughed with the couple as though they’d known each other forever. She'd told them she worked part-time at Frasier's Department store while she searched for steadier work. That had prompted the councilman to tell her of a secretarial opening at City Hall.

  Grady had followed the three of them into the mayor’s stunning home, forced to bide his time until he could get Tori alone.

  But now she talked to Honoria Black by the glass doors that led to the patio, her face rapt with interest as she gazed up at the mayor. Honoria, nearly six feet tall in her stocking feet, should have drawn the eye in her bold red pantsuit. But Tori, dressed in sparrow brown, outstaged her with her laughing face and sparkling eyes.

  "Opportunity is everywhere," he heard Honoria say as he approached. "The trick is recognizing it when you see it. That’s my true talent."

  "You're too modest," Tori replied. "From what I read, you're talented at everything you do."

  "Here's my secret. I never do anything I know I won't be good at," Honoria said and laughed so loudly heads all over the room turned.

  Grady suspected at this juncture in her life the mayor excelled at profiting at the expense of the citizens she'd been elected to serve.

  If Honoria were a character in a Western, she'd be the smooth heavy — the big, rich boss who did the conniving before sending stooges out to perform the dirty work.

  Given some time and a little luck, Grady might even be able to prove it.

  "Now I know why you hosted a golf tournament, Honoria," Grady said when he joined them, handing the daiquiri to Tori. She took it with a smile of thanks that did something odd to his gut. Please God, he prayed, let it be indigestion. "You knew you were a ringer."

  "Absolutely." The mayor commandeered the Scotch and water he'd intended for himself and toasted him. "Tori tells me I've you to thank for bringing her to the party. How long have you two been dating?"

  Grady checked his watch. “For about twenty minutes.”

  The mayor turned back Tori. "I thought you said you were at the golf course because of him.”

  Tori brought a slender index finger to her mouth and laid it against her lips. “Shhh. We don’t want him getting a big head.”

  The retort was nothing more than meaningless party banter, at which Tori was amazingly adept. The mayor let out her loud, boisterous laugh, no doubt as Tori had intended.

  Grady narrowed his eyes as he watched the two women. Were they in on this together? Was the fast-friends act part of a plan to make him think they hadn’t known each other previously?

  “We’ve got to be careful not to let him get too full of himself,” the mayor said in a teasing voice. “Our Grady, he’s a real lady killer. You saw how he almost clouted me today with that ball.”

  Tori’s brows knitted. “But Grady wasn’t the one who—”

  Oh, damn.

  “You’ll never let me forget that, will you, mayor?” Grady interrupted. If Pete Aiken thought Grady had ratted on him, he'd be less likely to hook him up with other dirty officials. Grady couldn't risk that — not with Aiken hip deep in the corruption plaguing City Hall.

  “One of the reasons I’ve gotten to where I am today is because I’m careful." The mayor considered him over the lip of the glass as she sipped the stolen Scotch and water. “I look out for people who might want to hurt me.”

  Did she keep making comments like that because she knew Grady was one of those people? Was she aware that he'd love to bring her down along with her administration?

  “Even if Grady had hit that ball,” Tori said, cutting her eyes at him to show she knew otherwise, “he didn’t do it deliberately.”

  The mayor clapped her hands. “The way Tori leaps to your defense is precious, Grady. Why, you could probably convince her you're here tonight to have a good time."

  “That is why he’s here,” Tori said.

  “Like I said, she’s precious." The mayor winked at Grady. To Tori, she said, "I meant what I said about repaying the favor you did me today. Call if I can ever do anything for you. Now you'll have to excuse me. I need to say hello to Wade."

  “What did she mean?” Tori asked after Mayor Black left them to greet the late-arriving Tax Assessor. She caught her lower lip with her upper teeth. "Why else would you come to the party if not to have a good time?”

  “She thinks I’m here because I want the city to award Palmer Construction the contract to build the new community center."

  The alternative, that the mayor knew he cozied up to city officials in order to eventually double-cross them, was more hazardous for his peace of mind.

  “Palmer Construction? Is that the company you work for?”

  “It’s the company I run,” he answered. “But you already know that.”

  “How would I know that?”

  “Because for some reason you were following me.”

  “I already told you why I was following you. Why can't you accept that?"

  "Because every silver lining has a cloud."

  "That's a pessimistic thing to say."

  "It's the truth. You’re a beautiful woman.” He indicated her with a sweep of his hand. “Men are supposed to follow you.”

  She
folded her arms, stretching the material of her brown shirt across her chest. Her breasts were small, he noticed, but nicely shaped. Big, dark, angry eyes dominated her oval face.

  “This is the twenty-first century. If women want to follow men around, nobody can stop us." She glanced around the room and pointed to Ned Weimer, who was moving toward the outside patio. “There’s a man in motion. He seems to be alone, too. I think I’ll follow him.”

  She pivoted and headed for Weimer, leaving Grady to wonder what the hell had just happened. He watched in amazement as she caught up to the mayor's Chief of Staff. Weimer was divorced, fortyish and as slick as the dyed black hair he gelled back from his angular face.

  Unfortunately, Weimer was no dummy. The FBI believed the corruption in City Hall reached all the way to the top but had nothing on either Weimer or the mayor.

  Tori laid a hand on Weimer's arm, walking with him out the glass doors to the patio. Something unpleasant slithered through Grady but he refused to characterize it as jealousy.

  He couldn't be jealous of Ned Weimer. The man was phonier than a six-dollar bill. As for Tori, he hadn't invested enough emotionally in her to get proprietary.

  I don’t even trust her, he thought as he hurried across the room, deftly avoiding saying more than hello to passing acquaintances. If Tori decided in mid-date that she preferred Ned Weimer, he told himself as he stepped into the fresh air, he’d have one fewer worry.

  Tori stood with Weimer on the terra-cotta tile under a palm tree illuminated by a string of tiny white lights, sandwiched between the beauty of the mayor’s teardrop-shaped pool and the Intracoastal Waterway. Ned laughed at something she said and his teeth flashed white in the night.

  The Chief of Staff probably had them professionally brightened to complement his expertly dyed black hair. Weimer hooked his thumbs in the pockets of trendy white slacks he wore with a short-sleeved black silk shirt. Oh, please.

  Grady wouldn’t be able to stand it if Tori thought Ned Weimer was hot, too. He approached the two of them.

  “Hey, Ned,” Grady said. “I see you’ve met my date.”

  “Your date?” Weimer focused his too-small eyes on Tori. “I got the impression you were here by yourself.”

  “I drove here by myself,” Tori said.

  “Only because she followed me." Grady slid closer to her, captured her left hand and deliberately rubbed his thumb over her palm. “Isn’t that right, Tori?”

  She didn’t pull away, but then she couldn’t. Not if she still expected him to buy her story. But if she had the hots for him, why had her body gone as tense as a tuning fork? Then again, why had his?

  “Yes,” she admitted, not looking at him. “I am here with Grady.”

  “Well, hell.” Ned shook his perfectly immobile head of hair. “I should have known you approaching me like that was too good to be true.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Grady murmured.

  “No offense,” Ned said, targeting his comment at Tori, “but I see a woman over there who actually may be here by herself.”

  Before he sauntered away, Ned took a business card from his wallet and handed it to Tori. She pulled her hand from Grady’s to take it.

  “What’s this for?” she asked.

  Ned slapped Grady on the back as he moved away.

  “Insurance,” he said. “If you get tired of Palmer, you know where to find me.”

  She laughed. Grady didn’t.

  “First me, then Weimer,” he said. “Is accosting strange men a habit of yours?”

  Her chin lifted. It had a tiny cleft in its center that made him want to dip his finger into it.

  “Of course not,” she said. “Besides, you’re the one who accosted me. I never would have approached you.”

  “Why not?” he asked grumpily. "You approached Weimer."

  "Ned's more approachable," she said.

  He let out a frustrated breath. "Trust me on this. Ned Weimer is not a good guy."

  She raised eyebrows a few shades darker than her hair. Her auburn curls rustled in the gentle breeze. “And you are?”

  A painful awareness hit him that his presence at the party gave the appearance he supported Honoria Black in her bid to win re-election. In truth, Grady had already made an anonymous donation to the campaign of slow-growth advocate Forest Richardson. The local lawyer probably wouldn't turn out to be much of an improvement over Mayor Black but he couldn't be worse.

  “Hell, yeah, I'm a good guy,” he said and moodily looked around at the collection of hobnobbers and phonies on the patio.

  His gaze drifted across the pool and snagged on Wade Morrison, who he felt sure was as crooked as the Leaning Tower of Pisa. He'd suggested to his FBI contact that they offer Morrison a bribe, but had been told to concentrate instead on the officials who approached him.

  Morrison talked to a bleached blonde in a black leather miniskirt and scandalously high heels.

  The blonde tossed her long, straight hair in a gesture he recognized. His body stilled. She turned slightly, giving him a clear view of her familiar, overly made-up face as she bestowed a dazzling smile on the undeserving Tax Assessor.

  Laying a slender, long-fingered hand on Morrison's arm, she batted her heavily mascaraed lashes at him. Grady sucked in a breath, ready to rush across the room and rip away her hand. But then Morrison nodded and left her side, probably because she’d charmed him into bringing her a drink.

  “Grady, is something wrong?” Tori’s question snapped him out of his momentary paralysis.

  “Yeah, something’s wrong,” he ground out. “I see somebody over there I need to talk to.”

  “The blonde?” Her voice spiked with curiosity. “Who is she?”

  “My sister.”

  CHAPTE R SEVEN

  Lorelei Palmer loved a party.

  She adored the way everybody dressed to the nines, the buzz of conversation, the flowing alcohol, the delectable finger food. Most of all, she loved the excitement that swirled in the air.

  The air of possibility.

  Her gaze swept over the pool area, where guests mingled in the shadow of the Intracoastal, searching for one.

  She got an eyeful of her brother leaving the side of an attractive woman with amazing auburn hair. His jaw was set, the corners of his mouth slanted downward.

  She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue, reminding herself that she loved him, too. Despite his ongoing mission to make sure she never had any fun.

  “Grady!” She went to meet him, taking very small steps so she didn’t fall off her heels. With the three-inch lifts, she still reached only five feet five, which made it difficult for her to do more than kiss the air on either side of his cheeks. “How wonderful to see you.”

  “You should have seen me this afternoon at the office." He didn't crack a smile. "But I hear you didn’t come back after lunch.”

  She ignored the censure in his voice. What a stick-in-the-mud. So she hadn’t come back to work. How was she to know he'd drop in after the golf tournament? Besides, he had other office workers. There was only so much answering the phone and paperwork to go around.

  “I bought new clothes for the party.” She twirled to exhibit the leather skirt and midriff-baring top she’d picked up at the mall. She’d put them on credit because she didn't have the money to pay for them but, hey, you only lived once. "Why do you think I’m working if not to fund my social life?”

  He ignored her question. “I wasn’t aware you were invited."

  “You know how much I love a party.” She beamed up at him. She thought about giving his cheek an affectionate pat but now didn’t seem to be the right time. “If you expected me to stay away, you shouldn’t have told me about it.”

  He screwed up his forehead. “I didn’t mention the party to anyone besides Frankie,” he said, referring to his business manager.

  She gave a theatrical laugh. “If you think I couldn’t hear you and Frankie talking, you seriously underestimated me.”

  Gra
dy’s lips thinned and he lowered his voice the way he did when he was trying to hold onto his temper. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Oh, don’t get your jockey shorts in a twist, Duke.” She used the nickname primarily because she knew it annoyed him. She tossed her head, enjoying the way the blond strands swung. The money she’d spent at the beauty salon had definitely been worth it. “Nobody cares that I crashed the party.”

  Nobody except Grady. Oh, she knew he loved her but tired of him playing the heavy. Only seven years older than her twenty-one, he acted more like her father than her brother.

  She had a father, thank you very much. Grady did, too. Along with a mother who had sobbed over him for the past month. Lorelei had cried, too. At night with her door closed where nobody could see how the growing chasm between her parents and brother hurt her, too.

  “Would you leave if I asked you?” he asked.

  She put her hands on her leather-clad hips. “Would you drop this ridiculous grudge against Mom and Dad and visit them if I asked you?”

  His face became a mask more unreadable than granite, but she sensed her words had hit a nerve.

  “We’re not talking about me,” Grady said.

  “Yeah? Well, it’s time we did talk about what’s wrong between you and them. Every time I ask, you change the subject. They’re no better.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “Lorelei, now is not the right time to discuss this.”

  “When will the time be right, Grady?” she asked urgently.

  “Not now. You shouldn’t even be here.”

  The stubborn set to his chin made her firm her own jaw. "Well, I am here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

  He sighed. “I’ll accept that if you promise me something.”

  She made a noncommittal noise, not in the mood to concede anything. She couldn’t stay angry, either. It simply wasn’t in her nature.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Stay away from Wade Morrison.”

  “Who’s Wade Morrison?”