Quinn was up early the next morning, wincing only slightly as he rolled out of bed, his “bowling muscles” aching in protest.
What a night! They’d bowled three games, with Shelby low scorer, but more than happy with her final game of eighty-seven. It didn’t take a lot to satisfy the woman. She was just so damn thrilled with everything, like a child set loose in Santa’s workshop or something.
It was strange. Here was a woman who traveled to Rome on a whim, who could buy and sell half of the people in Philadelphia. She was used to the best of everything, having the world placed into her hands whenever she wanted it there. And there she was last night, glowing after Tony’s small compliment, jumping up and down, clapping her hands when she finally made a spare, and downing her strawberry Italian ice after the match with all the enjoyment others would show for the finest caviar.
Simple pleasures. She was awash in simple pleasures after a lifetime of indulging in the most major of them.
He’d have to watch himself, remember that this was all a game to Shelby Taite, that she knew she could do an E.T. and phone home at any time, go back to her well-cushioned life. How badly did she worry about her lack of money, her job, when she knew that?
And how long would she be amused by these simple pleasures? How long before she missed the country club and breakfast in bed and dancing until dawn with the rich, handsome fiancé she had left behind?
Who was the real Shelby Taite? The rich socialite, or the eager, happy, actually giggling girl who had thrown herself into his arms last night, hugging him because she’d knocked down a few bowling pins?
And how well could he guard his heart when she had fit into his arms so well, so naturally?
He didn’t know. But he was damn well going to find out.
Quinn showered quickly, while there was still enough hot water—he’d learned his lesson on that one the previous evening while everyone else in the building must have been using water at the same time—and dressed in his usual black over black.
He brewed coffee in the small, automatic coffee maker that came with his furnished apartment, knowing it couldn’t hold a candle to Tony’s special blend. But Tony’s wasn’t on the menu this morning.
Philadelphia was on the menu. Philadelphia, and Somerton Taite. He’d promised a personal report today, and figured to get it out of the way before he faced Shelby again, looked into her trusting brown eyes, and remembered what a bastard he was.
* * *
Ninety minutes later he was ushered into the drawing room of the Taite mansion. Somerton stood near the mantel. Jeremy Rifkin, still clad in a striped bathrobe, sat with his legs crossed at the knee, sipping tea, his pinkie raised toward the chandelier. And Uncle Alfred, looking very dapper in red-and-green-plaid slacks and a white pullover, stood behind the decanters on the drinks table, frowning into the empty ice bucket.
“Delaney,” Somerton said, stepping forward, his right hand out. “You made good time. We didn’t really expect you for another half hour. Parker, I’m afraid, has been detained.”
“Now there’s a disappointment,” Quinn said, and smiled as he heard Uncle Alfred’s short, sharp bark of laughter.
“I like this boy, Somerton,” Uncle Alfred said, having contented himself with slipping a little vodka into his glass of orange juice. “Pity he’s working for us. Shelby could do with a little fun.”
Quinn’s head shot around sharply as he looked into Uncle Alfred’s merry eyes. What did the man mean by that? What did he see? How did he know?
Fortunately, nobody really listened to Uncle Alfred, especially Jeremy, who took this opportunity to tug at Somerton’s sleeve, asking him to be a dear and ring for more coffee, as they had guests.
Quinn had time to recover as the butler brought a fresh coffee pot into the room, assuming his stance in front of the fireplace now that Somerton was sitting beside Jeremy, spreading a linen napkin across the man’s knees.
“I’ve come to report on your sister, of course,” he began quickly, taking out his notebook but not bothering to open it. “The subject, Shelby Taite—”
“We know who she is, boy,” Uncle Alfred interrupted. “So why don’t you just do this one in English, without all that ‘subject’ and other ridiculousness?”
“Yes, sir,” Quinn said, wanting to get this interview over as quickly as possible. “Mr. Taite, your sister has secured an apartment with one Brandy Wasilkowski. A credit check and other background information assure me Ms. Wasilkowski is just what she appears, a young woman of moderate means and with a true concern for those she considers less fortunate than herself. In this case, that would be Miss Taite.”
“Less fortunate than herself? My sister? I don’t understand.”
“No sir, I didn’t think you would,” Quinn told him, pressing on. “That is, however, how I see the situation. Your sister has been taken in, as it were, by a good Samaritan and is in no danger. She has also procured employment as a hostess in a local restaurant, and is actually doing quite well. I might even say you could be proud of her resourcefulness.”
“She has a job?” Somerton’s watery blue eyes all but popped out of his head before he could control his reaction. “How... how enterprising of her, surely. A hostess, you say? This would be an upscale restaurant, I’m sure? Top of the line?”
“Best restaurant in all of East Wapaneken,” Quinn declared, tongue very firmly in his cheek, as Tony’s was also the only restaurant in East Wapaneken. “So, all in all, sirs, I’d say Miss Taite is doing very well out in the big bad world on her own. Which is why,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I am here to tender my resignation as Miss Taite’s bodyguard as of this morning. My office will contact you about the final billing.”
“Somerton, I feel faint,” Jeremy said, clutching the man’s forearm.
“Not now, Jeremy,” Somerton admonished him, rising and walking over to stand in front of Quinn, his wet-combed blond hair nearly shivering in his agitation. “Mr. Delaney, I don’t understand. You can’t possibly mean to leave my sister... out there by herself, can you? You’ve seen her. She has no conception of what she’s doing, what she’s opening herself up to, a woman alone in a hostile world.”
“A babe in the woods,” Jeremy added helpfully. “Little Eliza on the ice floe...”
“Yes, Jeremy dear. Thank you, we understand. Now, Mr. Delaney. Surely you can stay with her a while longer, until she has this... this adventure out of her system and comes home to us?”
Uncle Alfred, who moved quite sprightly when the spirit moved him, stepped between his nephew and Quinn. “Oh, be quiet, Somerton, and let the boy talk,” he said, looking up at Quinn. “There is more, isn’t there, son?”
Quinn had already known that the old man was sharp. “Yes, sir,” he said, grinning. “There is more. I have no intention of allowing Miss Taite to sink or swim on her own while she’s out having the time of her life, living what she calls ‘real life,’ if we’re all still operating on that assumption. I just can’t ethically accept money for my services.”
Uncle Alfred clapped him on the back, nearly sending him reeling. “Attaboy, son! And let’s hear it for my little Shelby. Quite the woman, isn’t she? Bowled you over, hasn’t she?”
“Bowled me over? Almost, sir,” Quinn told him, once more hiding his tongue in his cheek, watching as Somerton’s expression went from confused, to totally blank, to dawning comprehension.
“You intend to... to romance my sister?” he said at last, stepping back a pace. “You do know that she’s engaged to be married, don’t you?”
Quinn’s jaw tightened. “I know she’s in East Wapaneken and Parker Westbrook is here—or, in actual fact, not here—more concerned with his business affairs than the whereabouts of his fiancée.”
“Somerton, Somerton! Isn’t this the most delicious news?” Jeremy clapped his hands and hopped to his feet. “It’s like... like Cinderella.” He pulled a face. “Only backwards, I think.”
Somerton was back to frowning. “But... but what do I tell Parker?”
“Tell him I’m on the job, because I am,” Quinn told him as he looked at Somerton levelly. “But, if you love your sister at all, don’t tell him where she is. I promise you, she’ll come to no harm, but I think it’s time you all let the girl grow up, make a few of her own decisions.”
“Somerton?” Jeremy said, patting the man’s shoulder. “Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I say there was something haunted in Shelby’s eyes these past months? I did, didn’t I? And now she’s off on her own and about to have an adventure. Surely you can’t begrudge her a small adventure?” He shivered delicately. “Although I must say I can’t be happy hearing she has a—horror of horrors—job.”
Somerton rounded on his companion. “Adventure? Is that how you see it? When this... this man has the nerve, the unmitigated gall, to stand here and all but announce he’s about to seduce my sister?”
“I’ll drink to that,” Uncle Alfred said, lifting the orange juice to his mouth as he winked at Quinn. “Best thing that could happen to her, in my opinion.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Uncle Alfred,” Somerton spat at him. He pressed a hand to his head and began to pace. “I have to think.”
“You do that, Mr. Taite,” Quinn told him, replacing his coffee cup on the silver tray. “But while you’re thinking, think about your sister and what she wants, why she left.”
“She... she doesn’t love him?” Jeremy, always the romantic, questioned, collapsing onto the couch. “That’s it, of course. What have we done, blithely going on and on about the wedding, when she doesn’t love him? Oh, Somerton, our poor, dear girl. How dreadful!”
“Bingo, my pretty little man, bingo!” Uncle Alfred congratulated Jeremy. “And damn well about time, too. Or did you two think she’s really run off just to see how the other half lives? She wouldn’t care how the other half lives, Somerton, if she was happy with her own life, now would she? If I can see that, drunk, you certainly should be able to see it sober.”
Somerton stumbled to the couch, sat down beside Jeremy. “I’ve been a fool, such a blind fool! I just thought she was having an adventure, playing at life because Uncle Alfred put some silliness in her head. I didn’t think, didn’t see—Parker! You’ve arrived, I see.”
Quinn looked at the man as he strode purposefully into the drawing room, his briefcase clutched in his right hand. He couldn’t leave the damn thing in his car? What the hell was in there that was so damn important? What could—should—be more important to him than Shelby?
“Forgive my tardiness, Somerton, everyone,” he said briskly, helping himself to a cup of coffee. “But, now that I’m here, shall we begin?”
“We’re already finished,” Uncle Alfred said, leering at his nephew. “Aren’t we, Somerton?”
Somerton stopped himself, as he’d been biting his nails, something he hadn’t done since childhood. “What? Oh. Oh, yes. We’re done, Parker. Shelby is fine and Mr. Delaney will continue watching her. Isn’t that right, Mr. Delaney?”
“Yes, sir, it is. I’ll be watching her very closely, and promise that she will come to no harm.”
“I’ll hold you to that, son,” Uncle Alfred said, passing by him on the way back to the drinks table for another small splash of vodka. It really wasn’t done, anyway, to drink anything with color in it until at least five o’clock.
Quinn inclined his head to Parker, who was opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “Mr. Westbrook? Good to see you again, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”
“A job? Oh, naughty, naughty!” Jeremy said from his seat, the one he was nearly dancing in at the moment. “Somerton, I believe we’re being decadent. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Parker looked at each man in turn. “What in hell is going on here? That’s it, Delaney? That’s your idea of a report? She’s fine? Is this what Somerton is paying you for because, let me tell you, it isn’t enough. Not by a damn lot it isn’t enough! I want particulars. I demand particulars.”
“You don’t pay me, Westbrook,” Quinn all but growled, really wishing he could pop the guy one, just on general principles.
“No, he doesn’t,” Jeremy piped up, giggling. “And neither does—Whoops!”
Luckily, Parker Westbrook rarely listened to anything Jeremy, or almost anyone else, ever said, and only went on: “Very well, gentlemen. I see I’ll simply have to hire my own investigators.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Quinn slid in quietly just as Parker stood, clearly intent on making a grand exit. “Miss Taite is having a small vacation from reality—or in reality; I’m really not quite sure which it is yet. I’m already one new face on the scene in a very small town. So far, I’ve been accepted. But if you were to interfere, if some clumsy investigator were to let it slip that you were watching her, monitoring her? Well, I don’t think you’ll be hearing wedding bells ringing if that happens. And that is what you want, isn’t it Westbrook? Miss Taite home, and your wedding going off as planned?”
Parker seemed to chew on his tongue for a moment, then nodded shortly. “All right, Delaney. I guess I have no other option than to allow you to continue as Miss Taite’s bodyguard. But I still want her home within the month, sooner if possible, and see no reason for her to stay away any longer. After all, the bloom has to go off the rose quickly when one is living hand-to-mouth, as she most certainly must be doing.”
“She is eating well,” Quinn couldn’t help saying. “I’ll report in person again in a week, gentlemen. Until then, I suggest you content yourself with the information that Miss Taite is healthy, well, and seems to have landed on her feet.”
“For now,” Uncle Alfred whispered as Quinn walked by. “And good for you, son. About time one of us Taites had herself a little adventure.”
“Yes sir,” Quinn said, not wanting to get into a long conversation concerning Alfred Taite’s idea of what his niece needed.
His next stop was the offices of D & S. Maisie greeted him with her usual big smile, even as the reception area was crowded with at least a dozen suits in various stages of meltdown.
“What’s going on?” he asked, leaning over the desk.
“The Board of Directors of Swindale Memorial Library,” Maisie told him, still successfully avoiding all the many eyes trained on her in what appeared to be increasing fury. “They want us to guard their art exhibition but can’t seem to get it through their heads that we aren’t a nonprofit organization. They want us for nothing. Zilch. Nada. Grady has decided to take a profit. They’re back this morning to take another shot at him, and he’s keeping them waiting. How’re you, honey? You’re looking good enough to eat, as usual.”
“I’m doing fine, thanks,” Quinn said, keeping his own back turned to the angry Board of Directors. If they knew he was a partner in D&S they’d be on him like white on rice. “So he’s in? Really?”
“Really,” Maisie told him, sitting back in her chair, ready to punch at the telephone that had begun to ring. “But you didn’t hear it here, okay?”
He found Grady in the conference room, stretched out on a massage table, stripped to his waist, with a gorgeous young thing bending over him, working his back muscles.
“Are you supposed to do that with a separated shoulder?” he asked as he slammed the door behind him, making Grady jump.
“Damn it, Quinn, don’t you know how to knock? I was just beginning to relax.”
“Yeah, well, this happens,” he told him, signaling for the massage therapist to leave the room for a few moments. “We’ve got a problem. Or we did. We don’t now. I resigned from the Taite case this morning.”
“You did what? Ow!” Grady grabbed at his shoulder as he pivoted to a sitting position. “I know she’s a stick, Quinn, one of the Rich and Repulsives, but is she really that bad?”
“She’s not a stick.” The moment Quinn uttered the words he knew he’d made a mistake. His friend was much too quick on the uptake.
Grady cupped a hand to his ear. “What? What did you say? No, I couldn’t have heard that right. You’re defending the little heiress? Now, why, I’ve got to ask myself, would my good friend Quinn be defending the lady—and handing in his resignation from the easiest job he’ll ever find? Could it be? Is it possible? Ah, be still my heart.”
“Oh, put a sock in it, Grady,” Quinn gritted out, flinging himself into a nearby chair. “I’m off the case, not off the job, if you must know. But it’s getting personal, and I can’t ethically take money now that it’s personal.”
“Personal? Oh, more, more. I want details, Quinn. How personal is it?”
“Personal enough that I can’t reconcile myself to being paid for chaperoning her, or whatever you want to call it.”
“I can think of many things I want to call it, old sport. What do you call it?”
Quinn scratched at the side of his head. “I don’t know. but I’m interested. She’s interested.”
“Interested? All right, we’ll go with that one. You’re both interested. Which means, naturally, that you’ve not only found Miss Taite but you’ve been in personal contact with her. How personal? Never mind, we’ve already been there, right? That’s what these pain pills will do to you. So you’re going back to East Wapa-whoositz, to see what happens?”
“She’s looking for a fling, Grady, pretty determined to have one, I think,” Quinn told him, not really happy that he believed what he was saying. “At least with me she’ll be reasonably safe.”
“What a man. So sacrificing, so very giving. You know, that might have worked, except I’ve seen her, remember? You’re not making any great big sacrifices here. And then what? You let her have her mad, passionate fling with you, then walk away as she gets tired of the game, goes back to her cushy mansion—and her fiancé, remember?”
Quinn’s jaw muscles tightened. He stood up, pushed back his chair. “I always walk away, Grady, remember? It’s what I do.”
“And what if she falls in love with you? What then, Quinn? What if you fall in love with her?”
“That isn’t going to happen. You just keep holding down the fort and consider me on vacation, okay?”
“You’re not by chance staying somewhere called Heartbreak Hotel, are you, Quinn?” Grady asked as he slowly laid back down on the massage table. “Because if you’re not, you might want to think about it. Now, call Ginny back in here if you please, so that I can lie here and decide if you’ve resigned from the case so that you won’t feel like a rat, or if this leaves you free to be a rat.”
Quinn left the door open when he brushed past the massage therapist and headed for the door. Grady’s soft laughter followed after him. He didn’t really care. He just wanted to be back in East Wapaneken in time for lunch.