| |
Cleo woke the next morning to find Alec’s warm body spooning her. She felt so snug and cozy, it took a few moments for her to remember why this was a bad thing. The mild euphoria she felt on waking evaporated. This was so stupid. How had she let last night happen?
She slipped out of his embrace and out of the bed, snatched up her robe, and headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth and take a shower.
As the water beat down on her, she questioned her sanity. She’d never been one to jump into bed with a guy she’d just met. In her whole life, she’d had a single one-night stand, and since the guy had pursued her for weeks, she hadn’t known that was all it would be until he’d notched his bedpost and barely acknowledged her on campus afterward.
This was way worse.
She’d see Alec every day at work, never knowing if, when he looked at her, he was remembering the things they’d done in bed. She leaned her forehead against the shower stall. When had she become such a screw-up?
Well, she couldn’t change the past, but she could make sure it didn’t happen again.
When she returned to the bedroom, Alec was awake, propped up on one elbow.
“Last night was―”
Good grief, he’s talking again. “Stop.” She threw up both hands, fingers spread wide. “You said, ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ You said, ‘I won’t tell anyone,’ but here you are telling me. I want to forget last night happened, but I can’t do that if you keep bringing it up.”
He smirked at her. “You are testy in the morning, aren’t you?” He rolled out of bed.
She forced her eyes to stay on his face, fearing the sight of his naked body would weaken her resolve.
“How about this?” he said, as he closed the distance between them. “What happens in this room doesn’t leave this room. Out there”—he tipped his head toward the door—“we’re colleagues. But in here―”
His chest came up against her hands. She had to retreat, strong-arm him, or let him get closer. Against the advice of her good angel, her arms flexed. His large, warm hand found her waist.
“—Inside this room, we’re not going to pretend we don’t have some kind of nuclear fission thing happening.” He pulled her against him and kissed her.
She should have pushed him away, but the second his lips touched hers, her knees went spongy and every promise she’d made herself seconds before died quick, painless deaths. “Mmmmm.”
He let her enjoy his mouth for a few more seconds then pulled back and grinned at her. “That’s better.”
“This is madness,” she said. “It’s out-of-the-ballpark insane.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion. As long as you play along.”
He was smart enough not to smile, but the light in his eyes said he was amused. As if he knew how hard she was having to fight the temptation.
And why was she fighting this? Unless she could find a way to wipe his memory of last night, the horse was already out of the barn, so where was the harm in indulging a little more? As long as it stayed in this room.
She was pretty sure she was going to regret this. Someday. After they left Vegas. In the meantime . . . She pulled his head back down to hers, intending to kiss them both stupid.
That probably would have led them back to the bed, but music started in the living room. No way was she going to have a bedroom romp when Annaliese was already up.
An hour later, after Annaliese and Jada left to go shopping, Cleo made omelets—she’d be damned if she was going to eat soggy, toasted French bread again. Over breakfast, she and Alec hammered out a game plan.
“We have two ex-wives in Vegas,” he said as she put a plate of eggs in front of him. “Do you know either of them?”
“No. Annaliese might, but probably not well enough for us to trade on it. Not to mention, if either of them does remember her, it might not work in our favor.” She sat down across the bar from him.
“Good point.”
And while valid, it also had the bonus feature of discouraging him from mentioning Annaliese to anyone who might spill Cleo’s secret. “So which one do you want?” she asked.
“Both.” He took a bite of his omelet.
She blinked at him. “You get both and I get none?”
“Don’t get your knickers in a knot. I mean I think we should talk to them together.” He pointed his fork at his plate. “This is really good. What kind of cheese did you use?”
She shouldn’t feel pleased he liked her omelet, but it was her own personal recipe and she was also kind of proud of it. “It’s cream cheese.” She took a bite. Yup. Cream cheese made everything better. “If we both go on all the interviews, they’ll take longer.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You have an appointment I don’t know about?”
“Well, when you put it like that. Okay. So how do we get them to talk to us?”
“How did you do it at The Sun?” He forked another bite into his mouth.
“I didn’t. Not anyone like this. They never gave me a story assignment where I had to compete with every media outlet in town.”
“This is where your education starts then. We have some advantages. With that Pulitzer-nominated story behind you, you look like a respected member of the press. If that doesn’t work, we’ve also got a home-field advantage because you may know someone who’ll vouch for you. And then there’s the last trick up our sleeve.”
“Which is?”
“Unlike most other media, The Word isn’t above paying for interviews.”
“That seems so . . . unethical.”
“I suppose we could debate that, but it’s not worth the time because, when the day is over, all that counts is that it works.”
Why wasn’t she surprised? “So do we call them or just show up?”
He looked at the two bios The Word had sent him. “They’ve both been divorced from Sebastian for a while. If the other media outlets even bothered, they probably just called, hoping for something quotable.”
“And we’re going for more . . . why exactly?”
His smile was smug. “Because we’re not going for the same story they are.”
She fought to keep from rolling her eyes. Of course they weren’t.
“That’s why we’re going to be different and show up. Loretta Ellis works in management at the Hilton Grand, so we’ll wait until evening and approach her at home.”
In almost any other town, a stripper would work exclusively at night, but in Vegas, that wasn’t a given. Cleo called the Crazy Horse Too, where Candy Cane worked, and learned her shift had ended at two A.M.
At one P.M., they pulled up in front of an older brick building where Candy had lived since her divorce. The shrill yap of a small dog immediately followed their knock on the door of the ground-floor condo.
Oh, no. Please let it be one of those mostly hairless dogs.
The words, “Hush, Bruiser,” followed. Seconds later, Sebastian Koblect’s twenty-seven-year-old ex-wife opened the door.
According to the pictures they had, she’d been blonde when she was married to Sebastian. Today, her short, layered hair was Lucille Ball red. The low-cut, sleeveless, gold-lame blouse and skin-tight, leopard-print pants emphasized her taut, trim figure. Insanely spiked heels, also leopard print, completed the ensemble.
In contrast to her clothes, Candy wore almost no makeup. A little mascara, a little blush, some shiny lip balm. She didn’t need more. With one hand, she held the door open. A folded-over newspaper was in the other. “Yes? Can I help you?” Behind her, a fluffy Pomeranian barked. “Bruiser! Shut up!” Candy yelled over her shoulder.
The dog didn’t, so Cleo tried talking over his enthusiastic yap. “Hi, I’m Cleo Morgan, and this―” She turned to indicate Alec only to find his mouth agape and his eyes nearly out of their sockets as he stared at Candy.
Cleo wasn’t jealous. That would imply that she had a claim on him. Which she didn’t even want. Besides, they’d agreed there was nothing between them outside the bedroom. It was still rude, though, to gawk at another woman when she was standing right there. Not that she actually blamed him. Candy totally rocked that outfit.
That’s what she was really jealous of.
With the tips of her fingers, Cleo pressed up on Alec’s jaw. When his mouth closed, she turned back toward Candy. “This is Alec Ramirez.” Normally, she’d have added who they worked for, but she feared she’d choke on the words. “We’re doing a story on Sebastian Koblect. Would you mind talking to us for a few minutes?”
Candy glanced over her shoulder. “Bruiser! Stop it.” She turned back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why you’d want to talk to me about Sebastian. I’m three wives ago.” She waved the hand holding the paper. “That makes me ancient history.”
“We just need to . . . to talk to you because . . .” Suddenly, Cleo didn’t know what they wanted from her. Candy was right. What could she offer that was relevant?
Alec stepped forward. “I don’t think Cleo mentioned we’re from The Inside Word.”
Candy’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a silent O. She looked at the paper in her hand then back at Alec. “I love The Inside Word. I read it all the time.”
“I’m delighted to hear that,” Alec said. “Would you like to see yourself quoted in it?”
“Oh my stars, would I ever! Would you like to come in?” She took a step back, nearly stepping on the dog behind her. He yipped and dashed back about five feet before starting to bark again. “Bruiser!” Her attention snapped back to Alec. “Would you like some coffee? Tea? A drink maybe?” She scooped the dog up into her arms.
“We don’t want to be any trouble,” Cleo said.
“Oh, it’s no trouble. How about some tea? I have a bunch of different kinds and the kitchen has instant hot water.”
“Tea would be great,” Alec said.
“Come on back,” Candy said with a wave of encouragement. She didn’t put the dog down until they were in the kitchen. As soon as they were seated at the table, the dog started sniffing Alec’s shoes.
“Are we interrupting? Were you going somewhere?” Cleo asked, hoping Candy would give them an excuse to cut the interview short.
“Oh, no. I was going to the store to return some shoes, but I can do that anytime.” Candy pulled cups from the cupboard.
Cleo glanced at Candy’s feet. The leopard print was exactly the kind of tacky Annaliese would buy and that Cleo secretly coveted. If these were the shoes Candy kept, what kind of shoes would she return?
While her eyes were on the floor, she saw Bruiser’s nose pushing up the bottom of Alec’s trouser leg. His foot slid across the floor, scooting the dog away.
Cleo shifted her feet, hoping the dog wouldn’t decide to investigate her next.
“What kind of tea do you like?” Candy asked, opening a shallow built-in pantry.
“Whatever you have,” Cleo said, returning her attention to the kitchen at large. “I’m happy with anything.” There was a large canvas bag on the corner of the table with white yarn spilling out of it.
Candy turned halfway around. “If you’re thinking you’re going to get Lipton teabags in my kitchen, you need to raise your standards.” She looked at Alec. “How about you?”
He looked up, the picture of attentiveness. “Surprise me.”
“A man with an adventurous spirit. Good.”
She selected from midget wooden canisters then scooped loose tea leaves into three infusers. Each infuser went into a cup.
“Where are you from?” Alec asked.
“I’m a Midwest girl,” Candy said as she filled three cups with steaming water from a tap on the corner of her sink. “Iowa born and raised. I couldn’t wait to put all those corn fields behind me. Thought I was going to make it big in LA.” She laughed. “You wouldn’t believe how naïve I was. I got off the bus, and a day later, this guy says I’m perfect for the starring role in this movie he’s making. I was over the moon until I got to the set and discovered he was making porn. I must have been the color of a tomato, I was so embarrassed.”
She set a saucer on top of each cup and set a digital timer. “I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Eventually, I ended up here.” She joined them at the table. “I would have loved to be a showgirl, but there aren’t many openings for those, so I ended up stripping.” She laughed. “Kind of ironic, huh? I was so appalled at the idea of doing a skin flick, and here I am stripping for a living.”
“What does your family in Iowa think of that?” Alec asked.
It was a softball question. Personal enough to make Candy think they were interested in her and to encourage further revelations when they got to the topics they really cared about. Not that Cleo expected any earth-shattering revelations to come from this, so she was happy to let Alec carry the ball.
“When I started, I told them I was an exotic dancer. They think it means I dance with fans like Gypsy Rose Lee.” She smiled. “Or at least they pretended to. Now, they think I live off my divorce settlement.”
“I thought you signed a prenup,” Alec said.
“I did. But Sebastian was generous with me. He gave me a settlement and invested it for me. I’ve been lucky. I haven’t had to dip into it. It’s my fallback for when I’m too old to dance.”
“Why do you think he was so generous?” Alec asked.
“Because at heart, he’s a good man.” She hesitated. “Was a good man. I guess I haven’t really taken it in that he’s gone.”
“A good man . . .” Alec prompted.
“Yeah. Sometimes he was even a good husband, but he was always busy with the casino. It was kind of a lonely marriage.”
The timer beeped and Candy brought the tea to the table. “This is Spiced Mandarin Oolong. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure we will,” Alec said.
A fusion of hot citrus and spices wafted from the cup she set in front of Cleo. This wasn’t tea like anything she’d ever had before. She took a sip and nearly melted as the flavors hit her tongue. “This is delicious.”
Candy smiled. “I know.”
“How long did you know Sebastian before you married him?” Alec asked.
“Oh, just a few weeks. It was one of those whirlwind courtships. All hearts and flowers. Some expensive jewelry Sebastian let me keep.” She sighed. “I know people think I’m naïve, but deep down, he really was a sweet guy. He had a rough life growing up, you know. His parents divorced when he was ten and they used him to hurt each other. I think that made him cynical, but when you dug down, he really wanted to believe in love. He just couldn’t do it for very long because he thought it should be perfect. You know—soul-mate love. When it wasn’t, he got all cynical again.”
“You don’t believe in soul mates?”
“No. I think it doesn’t matter how well suited you are, you still have to work at marriage. Sebastian wanted love that transcended everything, so he wouldn’t have to make an effort.”
“That’s pretty deep. How did you figure that out?”
“Oh, I didn’t. Loretta did.”
Wife number two. Interesting. “So you know Loretta?” Cleo asked.
Candy nodded.
“Did you know her before you married Sebastian?”
“No. She’d been out of the picture for a while then, but she was still bitter about some things. After my marriage ended, she called one day, out of the blue, and we went out for a liquid lunch.” Candy smiled. “Loretta says we’re the founding members of the Life After Sebastian club.”
“Do you see her often?” Alec asked.
“We get together every few months or whenever the mood strikes.”
“Is she still bitter?” Cleo asked.
“No, she got over that when she met her husband. He’s a great guy.”
They were starting to shoot questions at her too fast, losing the friendly, chatty quality that made people open up, so Cleo nodded at the knitting bag. “What are you making?”
“Oh, this?” Candy reached for the bag. “I’m trying to crotchet a Halloween costume for Bruiser.”
Cleo glanced down at the dog, who was sitting on the floor, gazing adoringly at Alec. Better him than me, she thought as she returned her attention to Candy, who had opened the bag and pulled out a bit of yarn.
“Do you crotchet?” Candy asked.
“No. I never learned how. My mother’s not very craftsy.” It was hard to even imagine Annaliese shopping for yarn and she’d shop for nearly anything. “What’s it going to be?”
Candy pulled out a pattern. The cover showed a dog wearing a crocheted tube of yarn. On his back were crocheted butterfly wings. “I’m trying to modify the pattern and turn them into angel wings, but it may be more than I can pull off.” She laughed. “I’ve only done doilies before, and that was years ago when I was growing up.”
“Have you talked to Loretta since Sebastian died?” Alec asked in a strained voice, pulling them back on track. Apparently, he wasn’t interested in craftsy things either.
Candy pushed everything back in the bag. “No. I’ve been wondering if I should call her. She probably doesn’t know yet.”
“How could she not know?” Cleo asked. The woman would have to be in a coma not to have heard.
“She’s in the Bahamas,” Candy said. “Two weeks with sun, sand, and umbrella drinks. Her husband’s an airline pilot, and Loretta works for the Hilton, so it hardly costs them at all to travel.”
“Do you know any of the other ex-wives?” Alec asked.
“I’ve met Donna and Liz, but the only one I really know is Loretta. You know, if she’d kept on working for him, I think they’d have had a good marriage. Well, except for the vasectomy thing. But at least she’d have seen him more.”
“You don’t seem bitter about your marriage,” Alec said.
His voice was still tight, but Cleo couldn’t figure out why.
Candy shrugged. “I knew by the end of the first week we’d made a mistake. I couldn’t compete. I wasn’t nearly as interesting as the casino. By the time the divorce rolled around, it was kind of a relief.”
“So the divorce was amicable?” Alec said.
As Candy answered, Cleo glanced at Alec. What was wrong with him? Why was he asking something so inane?
The twitch was subtle. Was something wrong? He twitched again. This time his mouth twisted for just a moment.
Cleo frowned. Something was definitely wrong. Was he subject to seizures? Why wouldn’t he have told her? A movement on the floor dragged her attention down.
Alec pushed with his foot and Bruiser went sliding across the floor on his rump. The dog got to his feet and pounced on Alec’s ankle. Alec’s foot jerked. Nothing in his neutral expression indicated the drama going on down below.
The dog wrapped his front paws around Alec’s leg and started humping his shoe. Alec’s foot waved back and forth less than an inch off the floor, trying to discreetly throw Bruiser off.
His eyes still held no emotion, but the muscle in his jaw bulged.
Cleo pressed her fingers to her lips, fighting a laugh. Shifting her gaze to Candy, who was still talking about how kind Sebastian had been when they divorced, she contemplated her options. If she didn’t rescue Alec, she’d have to carry the interview.
But rescuing him meant touching the dog. She gritted her teeth and leaned over to scoop Bruiser up. “What a cute dog. He’s going to look adorable in those angel wings.”
Candy beamed like a proud mama. “Do you like dogs?”
Cleo forced herself to smile back. “Love them,” she said, faking enthusiasm as the dog wiggled on her lap, trying to escape. She tightened her grip, hoping it looked affectionate.
Candy got up and opened the pantry again. When she returned, she held out a handful of small dog treats. “Here.”
Reluctantly, Cleo reached out to accept them, but with only one hand holding him, Bruiser wiggled around on her lap until he was facing her, his front paws on her chest.
“Ouch.” Did he have to push there? Then he licked her cheek. Yuck. Dog saliva. On her hands and face. She pulled her head back, trying to dodge more doggie kisses. Her eyes were already itching. In about a minute, her nose was going to stuff up. She should be taking two Benedryl right now.
Alec owed her so big for this.
Suddenly, the dog disappeared from her lap.
“Hey there, little fella,” Alec said to the dog on his lap. The dog treats lay on the table in front of him. “He’s sure cute. How long have you had him?”
Distracted by a need to rub her eyes that was fast becoming torture, Cleo almost missed Candy’s response.
“I’ve had him since Sebastian and I split. He was a birthday present from one of the casino dressers.”
Maybe if she blinked hard, her eyelids would scratch the itch. Then she realized what Candy had said. “A dresser? Do you mean Willa James?”
“Why, yes. Do you know her?”
“I―”
“We’ve spoken to her,” Alec cut in. “She thinks highly of you. How did you meet her?”
Candy smiled. “I found dressing for Sebastian’s life . . .” She paused, searching for the right word. “I guess you’d say challenging. Because, really?” She made a sweeping gesture at her clothes. “Can you see Sebastian taking me to one of those thousand-dollar-a-plate dinners?”
Cleo couldn’t. Sebastian might have had a taste for women like Candy and Annaliese, but he’d branded the casino as a place of class and style. Women who dressed the way Candy obviously liked to didn’t fit that image.
“So he paid Willa to help me with my clothes,” Candy said. “She gave me advice about other things, too. She always knew what was going on with everyone, which was handy. I liked her. Though I have to admit, not worrying about what I wore after the divorce was wonderful.”
Cleo would have laughed, except she was getting more miserable by the second.
“Willa really took me under her wing. Once I met her, I always knew someone was in my corner. She was almost like another mother to me. Except I could talk to her about all the things you can’t talk to your real mother about. And she was supportive when Sebastian and I finally got divorced. She found this condo for me and helped me move. She gave me Bruiser, so I wouldn’t be lonely.” She smiled wryly. “I think she wanted to be there for me when I went to pieces. But I didn’t. I’m a lot stronger than people give me credit for.”
Cleo glanced into her cup. The tea was mostly gone. At least it wouldn’t look as if she hadn’t liked it. Candy seemed the type whose feelings would be hurt if a guest left half her tea undrunk.
“Do you still see Willa?” Alec asked.
“Oh, yes. We went shopping together last week. That’s when I bought the shoes I need to return.”
“When was the last time you saw Sebastian?” Alec asked.
Inside Cleo’s nose, a tickle started. Under the table, she reached for Alec’s knee, hoping he’d take her squeeze as a signal to end the interview, but Candy’s response stopped her.
“Let’s see. A couple of weeks ago? Yes, I remember. It was his anniversary. He didn’t stay long because he was taking Liz to dinner.”
“You saw him. Here?” Cleo forced herself to ignore the tickle. “On his anniversary?” She didn’t mean to sound so surprised.
“It wasn’t what you’re thinking,” Candy said, but she blushed pink. “Not at all.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Alec said, sounding as though the thought never crossed his mind.
But the blush made Cleo wonder. Then the tickle distracted her. She bit her lip to keep from rubbing her nose.
“Liz says they were reconciling,” Alec said. “Did it seem that way to you?”
Candy’s blush deepened. “No. I don’t think he was considering that.”
The tickle eased for a moment. Cleo reached toward Alec again, only to be forestalled by a window-rattling sneeze. Two more followed in rapid succession.
Alec stopped in mid-word and both he and Candy stared at her.
“I’m sorry.” Cleo dug into her purse, desperately searching for a tissue, knowing she wouldn’t find one unless a tissue fairy had visited.
Her nose was stuffing up. In a few seconds, it would start to run. How it could do both at the same time was one of those mysteries no one could answer.
No tissue. Not even a used one.
She looked up to find Alec looking at her speculatively.
“I think we’ve got enough for now, don’t you?” he said.
She nodded, silently and fervently thanking him. Now if she could just get out of there before her nose started dripping.