Snoops in the City (A Romantic Comedy) Page 7

Crystal put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Where's this coming from, Tor? Why are you going out with this guy if you're not sure about him? It's not like you to have doubts about people."

  She wouldn't have doubts about Grady, either, if Ms. M hadn't put them there with her comment about dirt digging.

  "Like I said, I figure it's time I stopped being gullible, is all," she said. "So do you have any tips?"

  "Yeah," Crystal said. "Date him for a year or two, paying particular attention to how he acts around old people and kids. That should do it."

  "I don't have a year or two," Tori complained.

  Crystal rubbed the back of her neck. "The only way you'll get instant answers is if you give him a pop quiz. Like one of those personality tests that run in Cosmo."

  "That's an idea," Tori said thoughtfully. "A morality quiz would be even better."

  "Oh, honey. That was a joke."

  "Still, it could work. I've taken a couple of those quizzes, and they're pretty revealing."

  Crystal shook her head. "What are you gonna do, whip out the magazine and a pen and have him fill in his answers?"

  "No," Tori said. "That would be too strange."

  "Now you're talking."

  "I'll have a bunch of questions in mind that I can tailor to a particular situation. Then I'll wait for opportunities to work them into conversation."

  "And now you're talking crazy again. Listen to me, there's a far better way to figure out what kind of guy he is."

  Tori put her elbows on the table. "I'll all ears."

  "Listen to your gut."

  Tori bit her bottom lip, turning that piece of advice over in her mind. She intended to follow it, just not exclusively.

  While they were talking, the cat had worked the drawstring loose. By the time Tori noticed, she'd squiggled out of the bag onto Tori’s lap. Then she perched her tiny paws on the table and peered at Crystal.

  "Are you gonna keep that thing?" Crystal asked.

  Tori looked down at the helpless, previously unloved creature. A wave of unexpected tenderness hit her. She guessed she'd have to give her a name. "Yeah, I am."

  "If you do go through with the quizzing,” Crystal said wryly, "you should ask this guy how he feels about cats disguising themselves as scrawny, white rats."

  CHA PTER ELEVEN

  The smell of French fries mingled in the heavy night air with the sweet scent of cotton candy, filling Grady's lungs with nostalgia.

  He'd forgotten how much he loved carnivals until Tori had brought him here to the western outreaches of Seahaven where a small parcel of land had temporarily been transformed into a playground.

  Walking the midway, with loud-mouthed carnies urging them to try their luck at carnival games, Operation Citygate and Pete Aiken's claim that somebody else wanted in on the action seemed far away.

  In jeans, tennis shoes and a rust-colored shirt that made her hair look even more burnished, Tori Whitley didn't seem like she had an ulterior motive for being with him.

  If she'd acted this way at the party, he wouldn't have had his FBI contact run the background check. The agent wouldn't have the results for a few days, but at the moment Grady was in no hurry.

  Tori hadn't done a single suspicious thing since they'd arrived at the carnival although her conversation had been a bit strange.

  She nodded toward a skinny man with a mallet who was poised to test his strength on the high striker.

  "If that guy dropped a hundred dollar bill, would you pocket it, give it back to him or donate it to the church, which probably needs it more than he does?" she asked.

  He grinned down at her, wondering how she came up with these questions. On the drive to the carnival, she'd asked if he’d contest a traffic ticket if he knew he were guilty. When they'd passed a pair of nuns, she'd wanted to know what he'd do if he saw one of them pocketing money from the collection plate. Always, she gave him three or four answers from which to choose.

  "If that guy dropped a hundred, you'd better believe one of the kids around here would get to it before I did," he said.

  "Then would you turn the other way, follow the kid and convince him to return the money or tell the skinny guy what happened and let him handle it by himself?"

  He laughed, not sure he could keep the choices straight. "What's with all these questions?"

  "Nothing," she said quickly, then expanded on her answer before he could press. "I guess I'm trying to get to know you better."

  Her eyes radiated sincerity as she gazed up at him, and he realized he believed her. He'd been inspired by that old saying about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer when he asked her out. Right now she didn't seem like an enemy.

  "Hey, buddy, come over here and impress your lady," called a man from a nearby ring-toss booth. "Two out of three wins a prize."

  The prize was a giant stuffed replica of SpongeBob SquarePants.

  "If you win me one of those things," Tori told him, "I might have to hurt you."

  He laughed again, something he hadn't done nearly enough since he'd gotten involved with Operation Citygate. He reached for her hand, which she gave him without hesitation, and realized he was enjoying himself.

  Except having a good time hadn't been on his agenda. This was a fishing expedition, designed to reel in information. He hadn't learned anything new about her, except her cheeks dimpled charmingly when she smiled.

  "Where to?" Grady asked.

  "Where else?" she answered. "The merry-go-round."

  She directed him toward a medium-sized carousel surrounded by excited children. Nobody in line looked older than twelve except the young father carrying a cute little girl who probably couldn't walk on her own.

  "You really want to ride the carousel?" Grady asked.

  "I do. And I want you to come with me." She raised shining eyes to him. "Get on one of those horses for me, Grady. Please."

  He pictured himself on the carousel, his long legs dangling from one of the painted horses as the people surrounding the ride laughed and pointed. Then he envisioned Tori's disappointment if he said no.

  "I'm game.” He visually located the ticket stand and reaching in his back pocket for his wallet. Laughter bubbled from her in a merry burst, and his hand stilled.

  He'd been had.

  "Forgive me, but I wanted to know what you'd do if your very silly date begged you to go on a totally inappropriate ride." The brown of her eyes seemed to grow warmer. "Now I do."

  "That was a dirty trick," he said, but found himself grinning. "It'd serve you right if I won you that SpongeBob."

  A high, nasal voice coming from behind him interrupted whatever she'd been about to say. "Grady? Is that you?"

  He recognized Helen Tribecka's voice even before he pasted on a smile and turned to greet her. What were the odds, he thought, of running into his mother's best friend at a carnival?

  A small, dark-haired woman with rounded shoulders and an intimidating glare, Mrs. Tribecka had flashing eyes that missed nothing. Such as the misfired baseball that dented her husband's car when Grady was ten and the curbside lilies he'd flattened while learning to drive.

  She held the hand of a dark-haired, chubby-cheeked child whose head didn't quite reach her waist. Of course. She'd come with her grandson.

  "Hello, Mrs. Tribecka.” He drew Tori closer to his side. "This is Tori Whitley. Tori, Mrs. Tribecka lives a few doors down from my parents. This is her daughter Anna's son."

  Mrs. Tribecka greeted Tori, then addressed Grady. "Your mother didn't say anything about you having a girlfriend."

  His mother told Mrs. Tribecka everything. "Tori and I just met," Grady said.

  "That explains it," she said, making use of her patented glare. "Your mother can't know what's going on in your life when you don't call."

  "I'm Tommy," the little boy interjected into the resulting silence. "I ride fish."

  Glad of the distraction, Grady bent down to the little boy's level. "Hey, Tommy, I'm Grady. That's sor
t of, um, fishy."

  "I ride big fish.” The boy spread his arms wide.

  "We've talked about this, Tommy. You rode a boat, not a fish." Mrs. Tribecka's voice gentled when she talked to the boy, who giggled and pointed to a nearby ride. Tiny boats connected by spokes circled a shallow moat.

  "No boat," he insisted. "Fish. I tell Mommy and Daddy I ride fish."

  "Speaking of parents," Mrs. Tribecka said, returning her attention to Grady, "you should call yours."

  Grady stiffened and raised to his full height. "I heard you the first time."

  Grady tugged on Tori's hand, not so subtly backing away from his former neighbor. Mrs. Tribecka thought she knew what she was talking about but didn't.

  "It was good seeing you, Mrs. Tribecka, Tommy," he said politely while he searched for an opening in the stream of people walking by. As Tori murmured how nice it was to have met them, he saw the opportunity for their getaway. He took it, pulling Tori along with him.

  "Call your parents," Mrs. Tribecka shouted after them.

  "Fish is fun," Tommy added.

  "What was all that about?" Tori asked as he ushered her away from them.

  "The kid thinks boats are fish."

  "Not that.” She sounded worried. "Why did Mrs. Tribecka keep telling you to call your parents? Is something wrong?"

  "Nothing's wrong, and it seems to me we were talking about something vitally important before we ran into her. Ah, yes. SpongeBob SquarePants."

  "But, why—"

  "Because she's a busybody, that's why," he said, closing the subject. "Now my question is, since when do sponges wear pants? Do you think it's when they came to life and realized they were naked?"

  She smirked at him. "Very funny."

  "What do you want to do next?" he asked. "I'm game for anything but the carousel."

  She chose the Ferris wheel and waited beside him with obvious impatience until the ride attendant ushered them onto a bright blue seat and pulled down the handlebar.

  "The Ferris wheel is my favorite carnival ride," she confided when they were settled. Their car moved up a notch, and the attendant below waited for another pair of riders to alight so he could seat the people next in line.

  "That's one of the first personal things you've told me about yourself."

  "What else would you like to know?" Her expression was open and unguarded, like a woman with nothing to hide.

  The question paramount in his mind was why she'd lied to him about the play last night, but he asked, "Does your family live in Seahaven?"

  "Nope, it's just me," she answered. "Everybody else lives on the west coast of Florida. My parents are in Siesta Key, which is near Sarasota, where my dad practices law. My sister Susan's in Bradenton, and my brother David's in Tampa."

  "When did you move here?"

  "Almost six months ago. I turned twenty-five and figured it was about time I struck out on my own."

  "Why Seahaven?" he asked.

  "I guess because it didn't seem as daunting as some other parts of Florida. I love the little downtown and the sense you get of living in a small town even though you're really not. I thought I could succeed here."

  "At what?"

  "That's the problem," she said as their car moved another notch closer to the Ferris wheel's peak. "Did I mention my sister's a pediatrician and my brother's an architect? I keep thinking there's a career out there for me, but I can't seem to find anything I'm good at."

  "You're good at giving makeovers."

  "That's a job, not a career," she said.

  Their car made its final ascent to the Ferris wheel summit. She clutched at his arm. "Oh, look."

  The carnival spread out before them like a miniature feast for the eyes. He could pick out the gaily covered canopy of the carousel, which appeared to be about the size of a nickel. He was more interested in looking at her.

  The lights illuminating the Ferris wheel captured her in their reflection, and her auburn hair appeared streaked with flames. Her shirt was golden, but the color wasn't the reason she seemed to glow. The light came from within, shining out of her big, dark eyes.

  Their car stayed at the peak for precious seconds, then rapidly descended. Tori squealed and squeezed his arm. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to put an arm around her and draw her close.

  He could feel excitement vibrating inside her as the Ferris wheel made its wide, sweeping circles.

  "This is wonderful.” She leaned close and met his eyes. Hers were smiling. "Thanks for coming to the carnival with me."

  The sentiment seemed to come from her heart, touching Grady. "You're welcome.”

  The carnival faded away until the world consisted of only the two of them. He felt her breath on his face along with the wind, a soft flutter that caressed his skin and made him feel even more alive than the ride.

  "Let me ask you another question, but you've got to listen to all the choices before you answer," he said, and she nodded.

  "If a man on a Ferris wheel kissed you, would you: a) push him off the top of the ride; b) suffer silently through it; c) close your eyes and enjoy the experience; or, d) kiss him back?"

  She didn't answer for long seconds, and he had a vivid glimpse of the woman from the other night. The one who had claimed he attracted her, then surrounded herself with people so he couldn't make a move.

  He waited for her to rebuff him by answering e) none of the above, because she had no intention of letting him kiss her.

  Then she parted her lips, blinked her big eyes and invited in a soft voice, "Why don't you try it and find out?"

  Meaning to take things slowly, he buried one hand in her hair, enjoying the silky feel of the strands against his fingers. He lowered his head, she raised hers and he captured her mouth.

  He intended to press gentle kisses across the length of it, cajoling her to open to him so he could deepen the kiss. At the first hot, tangy taste of her, he threw out his script.

  She had a mouth made to be kissed, he thought as he gathered her close. Even with the handlebar in the way, her soft, womanly body fit perfectly against his.

  The scent of cotton candy clung to her hair, making her seem even sweeter. She rested a hand along his jaw, moaning a little as she leaned into him and returned the kiss.

  His willpower snapped, and he took advantage of her open mouth to slip his tongue between her lips. She gasped and he stroked and circled her tongue with his as he kissed her deeply, wetly. The way a man kissed a woman he wanted to take to bed.

  He angled her head to give him better access to her mouth as his free hand caught at her waist, pulling her more firmly against him. The softness of her breasts touched his chest, and he was instantly hard.

  His heart lunged but it might have been due to the revolutions of the Ferris wheel. Or because of the soft sounds Tori made in the back of her throat.

  When she moaned, he took it as a request, thrusting his tongue into her mouth again and again. Her hands were at the back of his head, her fingers tangled in his hair.

  The Ferris wheel jarred to a stop, and their car swayed, not recklessly but enough to remind them of where they were. Tori tore her mouth from his and placed her hands against his chest.

  "Grady, stop," she said.

  He desperately tried to regain his equilibrium. His breathing came in ragged gasps. His heart drummed so fast it hurt his chest.

  He looked into her eyes, finding them glazed and unfocused in her pale face. The kiss had felt real and wild and out of control. He still felt that way.

  "Next time we'll have to try that on solid ground," he said, laughing a little while he strove to get his body under control. "I actually forgot we were on the Ferris wheel."

  "It's not that," she rasped, turning her head to the side so he couldn't see her eyes. "It's just that things are moving too fast."

  He frowned. "I'd never force you to do anything you didn't want to do."

  "I know," she said, still not looking at him.

  T
he night went downhill after that. Their banter dried up, and she seemed determined to keep at least a foot between them at all times. Within an hour, they were at her apartment door.

  "Goodnight, Grady," she said, slipping inside before he could touch her.

  Not that he meant to. Not after that disaster of a kiss. Except, at the time, the kiss had seemed more like a beginning than an ending.

  She’d responded to him, but then reverted to her previous touch-me-not incarnation. Could it be because she hadn't wanted him to get the wrong idea about how the night would end?

  Or was it because he’d been right about her investigating him? If she were on a job, she could be willing to go so far but no further. She'd kiss him, but she wouldn't sleep with him.

  His doubts about her, which had nearly vanished earlier in the evening, rose once again.

  CHAP TER TWELVE

  Tori kept her foot steady on the gas pedal as she drew relentlessly nearer to Boca Raton and her cousin's PI office. Dark sunglasses shielded her bleary eyes from the midday sun.

  After the way she'd bungled things the night before, she hadn't even needed her silver disco ball to tell her to get off the case before she did something incredibly stupid. Like have wild, I-don’t-care-that-you’re-off-limits sex with the man she was investigating.

  "I knew he was hot, Gordo," she told the newly named cat, which was perched on the passenger seat watching her intently. "I didn't know he was scorching until he kissed me."

  She'd never considered herself a passionate person, but last night on the Ferris wheel she'd been in favor of skipping the foreplay and going directly to the sex.

  Good thing the handlebar had prevented her from tearing his clothes off.

  After the Ferris wheel had jarred to a halt and she'd found the strength to tell him to stop, she hadn't trusted herself to get within touching distance.

  If he'd kissed her at the door, she'd probably have dragged him inside. By now, she'd know exactly how much he measured. But she was pretty sure that's not what Ms. M. had in mind when she asked her to take the measure of the man.

  The dreams she'd had involving his slick, naked flesh surfaced, and a flush of heat hit Tori hard. She reached over, turned the air conditioner down a couple notches and stomped harder on the gas pedal.