Bedroom Eyes (29 page)

Tony raised his brows, wondering just how high Hinson’s boss had reached into the department. Apparently farther up than any of them had detected. “Your boss has friends in high places.”

“Don’t worry your head over who they are. We’re not paying you to think. We’re paying you to run the details, protect the goods, and deliver when someone needs a little extralegal aid.” Hinson smiled at his own play on words.

Tony rolled the basketball over his thighs, appearing to be deep in thought. At last, he said, as if the words were being dragged from his throat, “And what would I owe?”

Again Hinson smiled. “We’d let you know.”

“Open-ended?” Tony spun the ball. “What kind of a deal is that?”

“You want to get your own lawyer, go ahead.”

Tony pictured the only lawyer he wanted, but forced Penelope’s image from his mind. “I do need my job back,” he said slowly, “but I need more than that.”

Hinson raised his brows.

Tony thought he heard Rolo Polo make a rude noise.

“Cash.” Tony pointed to Hinson’s ring. “You understand the value of money. I could use a new car. Maybe some new clothes.”

Hinson steepled his fingers. “And when you’re given a job to do, you’ll do it?”

Tony shrugged. “Hey, I’ve got no love for a department that kicked me out in disgrace. I never took money from anyone, but where were the powers that be when I needed backup?” He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll laugh at them all the way to the bank.”

“If
we pay you.”

“No money, no deal.”

Rolo Polo bit down hard on his cigar and half-turned. “Mr. Hinson don’t like to be told no.”

“True, Rolo, true,” Hinson said in a tight voice.

“Besides, whatcha got to lose?” The fat man reached over the seat and jerked Tony’s chin up. “Look at you, living in that slum, surrounded by all those blacks. You oughta get a life. Do a good job and the money will come later. Then you’ll get those new clothes, a decent car, some Cuban cigars.” He rolled his cigar in his teeth and winked. “And working for us you can afford any woman you want.”

Tony let his interest show in his eyes. “Any woman?”

Hinson’s cheek twitched more rapidly. “Rolo, when I need your assistance, I’ll ask for it. Perhaps you don’t understand your position, Olano. Once you’ve made it known you’re willing to come to work for my boss, you no longer call the shots. No, not even a hothead like you.”

Tony thought of how he’d heard Hinson over the wiretap asking the old man if he could get an annulment after he’d married Penelope. Hinson was sure trying to call the shots in the organization and if he didn’t watch out, he’d land in a shark tank someplace.

Hinson glanced out the window, then back at Tony. “I’ve never liked you and if I were in charge you wouldn’t be getting this chance. But as long as you’re going to work for us, you may as well keep from embarrassing the outfit.”

The lawyer pulled out a money clip and tossed a wad of bills toward Tony. “You’ll get a call regarding your reinstatement hearing within two weeks. Go back repentant. Then keep your nose clean. When we need something, you’ll hear from us.”

Tony nodded, then leaned over and chucked Hinson on the shoulder. “Always knew you were a stick,” he said, then collected the bills and stuffed them into the pocket of his basket-ball shorts.

Rolo turned back around. He pulled his cigar from between his teeth and said, “Remember, Olano, there ain’t no annulments in this marriage.”

“Very well spoken, Rolo,” Hinson said dryly. He cracked his window, said something to the man outside, who reentered the car, staring at Tony with eyes as mean as a snake roused from slumber. “Now shut up and drive.”

“S’okay, boss.”

Tony nodded once, then again. Taking a deep breath, he said, “So I’m in.”

Hinson inclined his chin, the prince deigning to recognize his subject.

“A dirty cop is still a cop, you know,” Tony murmured.

“No need to justify yourself to me,” Hinson said. Then staring straight at Tony, he added, “as long as you’re not screwing with me.”

Tony held his hands up.

“Or with anything that’s mine,” Hinson added.

“Yeah, the boss is getting married,” Rolo Polo threw over his shoulder as the car crunched over the oyster-shell road, then bumped back over the railroad tracks.

“Should I offer my congratulations?” Tony kept his voice light, showing only a vague curiosity. Or so he hoped.

Hinson laughed. “Your first job can be to dance at my wedding. You can even dance with the bride. It’ll look good to have a nice showing by the men in blue. And you’ll be a commander, so that’ll make the old man happy.”

“A commander?” Tony wanted to ask about the bride, but this news took him completely by surprise. “I’m getting that much of a promotion?”

Hinson shrugged. “The boss always wanted a son.” His eye twitched furiously.

Watching the lawyer’s face, Tony suddenly understood a piece of Hinson he’d overlooked. Hinson the orphan coveted the role of son. But he’d never be more than the lawyer, the mouthpiece, the front man, despite the fact that he provided much of the brains behind the operation.

With Tony’s recruitment, Hinson stood to lose even more stature. Even more reason never to turn his back on the guy.

“So who’s the lucky woman?” Tony said.

Rolo laughed, a nasty sound that made Tony’s skin crawl. The laugh, of course, said exactly what Tony was thinking: No bride of Hinson’s could be considered lucky. He tensed, knowing he could not react to the name he was about to hear.

“I do believe she’s a friend of yours,” Hinson said, his voice as sickening as an oil slick spreading over an unspoiled bayou. “The lawyer you rescued the other day.”

Tony refused to say her name. He didn’t want to hear it in this context. “Yeah?”

“She’s not my first choice, but it’s what the boss wants.” He picked another speck of lint off his suit trousers. “He’ll want you to marry, too, so you might as well get used to the idea.”

“What about all those women my new money was going to buy for me?” Tony couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Rolo Polo snickered.

Hinson raised his brows. “What’s marriage got to do with that? I’ve learned that lesson from associating with you Italian men, whom I must congratulate on ordering the universe nicely.”

“And what order is that?”

“Let’s just say you’d never let a wife get in the way of a mistress.”

Remembering he was supposed to be one of the guys, Tony slapped the side of the basketball and laughed heartily. “You’ve got that right,” he said, noticing Rolo had driven around his block several times now. “So when’s the wedding?”

Hinson shrugged. “Whenever it can be arranged.”

“I supposed your intended is thrilled?”

Rolo Polo laughed again. “She’s a little slow in figuring out the boss don’t like to be told no.”

“You’ve got a big mouth tonight,” Hinson said, the twitch working overtime.

Rolo quit laughing.

“She’s delighted,” Hinson said. “Get out, Olano, and keep doing what you’re doing until you hear from me again.”

“Oh, yeah, you know I will,” Tony said, sliding across the seat after the strongman got out of the car.

He bounced the ball up his sidewalk, hoping Mrs. Sanderson next door didn’t mind the noise too much. As he walked, he whistled, knowing the occupants of the car kept him in their sights.

Chapter 21

The morning after the failed candle spell, Mrs. Merlin was so grouchy Penelope was guiltily grateful to escape to the office. She experienced a flash of insight into why someone would become a workaholic rather than face a difficult situation at home, something she hoped she wouldn’t do to a family of her own.

Of course, the way her life was going, she’d never have to worry about that. No one, other than a man she didn’t love, wanted to marry her.

And the man she wanted to want her, the man she wanted to devour her, initiate her into the mysterious pleasures of lovemaking, had developed a most ill-timed conscience.

Penelope rode the elevator upward to her office, conscious of her keen sense of frustration—with herself, with Mrs. Merlin’s failed spell, with Tony Olano for doing the right thing.

She squeezed her eyes tight and wished she could be like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. If she could have anything she wanted in the entire world right this minute, it would be Tony Olano holding her close and murmuring sweet nothings in her ear. Impishly, she clicked her heels together three times.

All she got for her imaginative trouble was a glare from a stem-faced woman standing opposite her in the elevator. Probably a spinster, Penelope thought, then could have bit her mental tongue. Look who’s talking, she chided herself, stepping out of the elevator and into her workday.

When Tony’s call came three hours later, Penelope should have been surprised, but somehow, staring at the receiver clutched in her hand, she decided no other result could have transpired.

She wanted Tony.

He wanted her.

If only for the moment, she would give herself to him.

Accepting his invitation to lunch, Penelope knew instinctively she was agreeing to more than the sharing of a meal. Even though the address he’d given her was clearly that of a restaurant in a historic small hotel she’d noticed several times before, Penelope couldn’t help but feel she’d consented to something much more personal, much more momentous than lunch when she’d agreed to meet Tony.

Business, he’d explained, kept him from coming to the office to collect her.

No doubt the same business that had sent him on his way after their interlude at Café du Monde, but Penelope swallowed her pride at that thought.

She hurried out of her office a little after eleven, unusually early for someone of her work credo. Pausing by Jewel’s desk, she said, “I’ll probably be back late from lunch.” Jewel glanced up, smiled, and said, “Can’t do dinner, but can do lunch?”

Penelope blushed, thereby giving her secretary all the data she needed to confirm her conclusion. Jewel saluted and said, “No need to hurry back on my account. I’ve got work to last me till five.”

Penelope nodded and said, “Of course, I won’t be that late.”

“Right,” Jewel said, and wiggled her fingers as Penelope passed by.

Riding down in the elevator, Penelope wondered what it would be like to take a three- or four-hour lunch. She rarely broke from work at all, choosing to spoon down a carton of yogurt or a cup of soup while she studied her legal problem of the moment.

She knew the others in her firm thought her a dull, bookish sort of woman, but she derived no pleasure in going out for lunches with people she didn’t know, and didn’t know how to get acquainted with. It wasn’t that she was stuffy, she’d pointed out to Jewel, she simply didn’t speak any language other than law.

Or cooking, but somehow she never figured how to share that with her co-workers.

So she ate alone.

But not today.

The weather had cooled slightly, bringing with it a sense of relief and a sprightly spring to Penelope’s step. She covered the several blocks to the address Tony had given her, deviating between nervous anxiety and a reckless sense of abandonment.

Whatever the day brought, she decided as she pushed open the door of the Hotel Fleur de Lis, she would embrace.

After a restless night capped off by a nightmare in which he walked Penelope down the aisle and gave her away to Hinson, Tony awoke knowing he had to see Penelope.

See
her?

Hell, he wanted to make love to her, wanted to claim her in a way that would make it impossible for her to even think of another man. As he showered, he told himself to forget it. Going undercover as an employee of Hinson’s meant he couldn’t see her at all. As he slapped lather on his face and stroked the razor across his night’s beard, he stared into the mirror and recognized the eyes of a man who would not be denied.

Just once, he promised himself.

He poured milk on his cornflakes and argued that he wasn’t being totally selfish. He was sure that Penelope, despite the way she bristled at him every now and then, wanted him as much as he wanted her. Why, she’d gotten angry when he’d held back the other night at Chris’s cottage.

He rinsed his bowl and spoon and stared at the phone lying on the counter. He’d never met a woman like Penelope Sue Fields. And despite all the women he’d dated, he’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted her.

Face it, Olano, you’ve got it bad, he told himself.

He knew as soon as he began planning where to take her there was no turning back. Both his place and hers were out. Just any old hotel room wouldn’t do. Not for Penelope, not for their first time together.

He drummed his fingers on the counter and thought about who he knew well enough to ask a favor of. Tony rolled over a few possibilities in his mind, then suddenly thought of Lucien, who’d retired from the force last year, grumbling that his wife was going to turn him into a sissy running an old place she’d inherited where all the rooms were prettied up for honeymooners.

Tony found his phone book and studied the entries under both bed and breakfast and hotels. He knew Lucien’s place was somewhere in the Central Business District. Whistling under his breath, he thought of Penelope naked and open beneath him, her hair wild against the pillows. He sucked in his breath and decided to try the Hotel Fleur De Lis. That sounded romantic. If that wasn’t Lucien’s, he’d keep calling till he found him.

He’d gotten lucky on the first call, with Lucien promising him his nicest suite, and even luckier when Penelope had agreed without hesitation to meet him for lunch. Fortunately, Lucien’s small hotel also housed a decent restaurant, so he’d been able to innocently suggest lunch.

A meal that could be delivered to his room, Lucien had assured him.

Having set the stage, Tony took himself off to check in at the supersecret site of the undercover task force operation. If he didn’t work, he’d go nuts waiting to meet Penelope.

Penelope arrived early. Peering into the dining room of the Hotel Fleur de Lis, she saw no one else had yet been seated for lunch. Embarrassed at her anxious behavior, she shifted from foot to foot and began to back away. She’d pop into the coffee place down the comer and wait until the agreed-upon time.