Careful What You Kiss For (31 page)

Carl plodded toward them, carrying the coffee.

“Nothing’s changed with you, Max. She was always the one you really wanted. Not me.”

“That is so fucking not true.” Hard to say it convincingly from the side of his mouth, but Carl had set the carrier down hard on the table, slopping brown liquid out of the openings in the lids. “What’s going on?” the detective demanded, pulling the cups from the grip of the cardboard container. “Here. You, you and me.”

Max wasn’t going to wait for Tensley to offer up an explanation. “She’s not sure what she’s supposed to do next,” he said. “I’m setting her straight.”

“The hell you are,” Tensley answered smoothly, lifting her cup to take a sip. “I know exactly what I’m doing next. Next time I go in that room, it will be because I’ve been scheduled to work it. I’ll let you know when that happens.”

“Makes sense,” Carl said.

“Who asked you?” Max snarled.

The detective’s cool gaze went back and forth between the other two at the table. “You and I best be havin’ a talk,” he told Max.

“Later, Carl.” Max looked down at the piece of paper with phone numbers written on it. “We can’t get him on the back room stuff until we also have him on the money laundering.”

Carl considered that. “We can if we prove they’re connected.”

“Which we can’t. Yet.”

“Not until we get in there. But if we have a witness who gives us enough for a warrant … ”

“I want a better case against him first.”

“And the judge is going to have to be convinced the witness is credible.”

Tensely didn’t lie. Ever. “She’s credible,” Max bit out.

The witness in question picked up her purse, apparently having had enough. “You two decide and let me know.”

“You’re leaving?” Max asked quickly. Too quickly.

“I have another job,” she replied. “And I don’t want to be late on my first day.”

“Gary’s gonna let you work at another club?” Carl asked. “Thought he made the dancers sign exclusives.”

The look she gave him should have frozen Carl’s thick eyebrows. “I’m working in a bookstore.”

Relief washed over Max. She’d be out of that place. That life. And he couldn’t get into trouble if — They could be together. “That’s great,” Max said. His breath sounded funny; his mouth was trying to smile, not smile, smile again.

Carl shifted in his chair. “It’s not great if it means you’ll be quitting Gary’s before we’re done.”

Tensley stood. “Guess you’d better work fast.”

Max clutched the piece of paper in his hand. “I’ll check out these phone numbers. Carl will keep working on the hardware side of things.”

“Fine.” She pushed in her chair and took a step.

Don’t go.
“You need to check in with me tomorrow.” He needed more than that, way more than that.

She didn’t reply, just walked away.

Max kept his eyes locked on the paper with the phone numbers. “I’ll check these out today. Should tell us something about Gary’s associates.”

He felt a punch in his upper arm. A hard one. “Hey. What the — ?”

“You shit-for-brains,” Carl accused. “How long you been sleepin’ with your CI?”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Max said, knowing he sounded like every perp he’d ever come across. They were all innocent. Except they weren’t.

“The hell I do.” Carl gulped his coffee. “You know what something like that can do to your career?”

He had a pretty good idea. Max stared down at his untouched cup of coffee.

“End it,” Carl said flatly. “Do not see her again. Have her report in to me from now on. I know better than to get involved with a CI.”

Max looked up. “You got involved with a captain’s daughter.”

“I married her. Different story. She wasn’t a stripper.” The detective’s eyes softened, a grin pulling at the edges of his mouth. “Though she could have been. Rhonda’s got one fucking awesome body.”

“And you divorced her.”

“She divorced me.” Carl’s gaze turned cold. “And this ain’t about me, Sunshine. You’re the one up shit creek.”

“I can handle this.”

Carl nodded. “Yeah, and I’m Brad Pitt.” He downed the last of his coffee and smacked his lips. “Let’s get out of here. You’ve got to get on those phone numbers and I’ve got to figure out how Gary’s making money off of hardware without selling any.”

They got up to leave, Max picking up the used cups to toss them in the trash. “That’s some hot wife you’ve got.”

Thunderclouds formed on Carl’s face. “What?”

“Could’ve sworn you said you were Brad Pitt.” He shoved the glass door open hard.

• • •

Patsy Fowler had on running shoes today, Tensley noted, and a sweatshirt with “World’s Best Grandma” written across the front. She wore wireless rimmed glasses with a smudge on the right lens. “Good. You’re here,” she said as soon as she saw Tensley.

“I’m here.” Breathing in the subtle blend of ink, paper, old wood and dust, and feeling her heart lift.

“You know how to work a cash register?”

Tensley hesitated. “I’ve seen people do it.” She doubted that counted, though.

She was right. It didn’t. Patsy gave her a lesson, darting sharp glances in her direction to make sure she was paying attention. It wasn’t that hard, Tensley was relieved to learn. Especially since the night job and day job scenario had her operating on little sleep.

“I’ll be back before it’s time to lock up. I’ve written my cell phone number down and put it there, on the counter.” Patsy motioned toward the piece of paper. “You have plenty of change in the register and should be good to go.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tensley assured her. “Go see your grandchildren.”

“Can’t get enough of those little buggars.”

“They probably feel the same way about you.”

Patsy grinned. “Wait until they see what I’m bringing them today.” She lifted a cloth bag with a picture of the Space Needle on the front. It appeared to be filled to the brim with an assortment of books and toys.

Tensley leaned her elbows on the counter and returned the smile. “Have fun.” Once the older woman had gone, she covered her face with her hands. She’d told Patsy she’d be fine. She wished she knew if that would be true. She wished she never had to go back to that awful strip club again. She wished she could be back in her corporate office, where she belonged. She wished Max had never come back into her life to turn it upside down even more than Madame Claire had.

She wished. More than a little irony there, since a wish had been what started this whole thing in the first place.

And as far as Max, did she
really
wish he hadn’t come back into her life? If she only had the memory of that one night with him, of the shuddering out-of-body experience of their coming together, of his lips against her most tender places, of lying beside him, both of them spent, and curling up in his protective arms … could it be enough?

She sighed, from the top of her head to her toes. Like a heroine in one of her beloved Victorian novels, burdened by the tragic loss of her only love. Tensley felt as though she could understand the depths of that kind of loss, maybe for the first time in her life.

A tree next to the window rustled in the breeze; a car with a loud muffler drove by outside; a rafter in the old building creaked overhead.

One by one, Tensley opened each finger covering her eyes and straightened.

It wasn’t enough, not even close. She’d started out wanting a piece of the past and wound up only able to see a future.

She was getting the hell out of this life. Whether she stumbled into the right lesson that changed the spell, convinced Madame Claire to figure out how to undo it, or she had to save every single penny she earned from the bookstore and the club to restart her life — she would do it.

When it all came down to it, she didn’t have it in her to play the tragic heroine. Much as Tensley appreciated a good drama, she’d be the one behind the heroine, kicking her in her fictional ass.

A bell tinkled at the front of the store, signaling a customer’s arrival. Tensley brushed her hair back and put on a smile, a real one this time. She moved out from behind the counter. “Hello. How can I help you?”

She stopped short, the words dying on her lips when she saw Max, his tall frame silhouetted in the door, shadows falling across his face. “You can give me another chance,” he said.

Tensley looked down at her shoes, hoping he couldn’t see the tsunami of emotion those six words had unleashed in her. Another chance. She turned away to straighten books that didn’t need straightening. “How did you find me?”

“Detective. Remember?”

She lined up the corners of each book cover. “You followed me.”

“I did.”

“Let’s just go on from here,” she said, not daring to look at him. “Forget about that night. Pretend it didn’t happen.” Amazing how someone could say something they didn’t at all mean. She stepped away from the shelf and made a sweeping motion with her trembling hand. “Done. Over.”

He moved toward her. “Won’t work.”

Tensley’s heart leaped into her throat. By the time she found her voice, he was standing inches from her, the heat of his body pulling her in. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t risk it again. “Yes, it will. I’ve already forgotten about it.”

His jaw muscles worked. “I haven’t.”

She watched the small scar on his cheek move with the tension in his jaw. Her mother had done that to him. She tried to turn away again, but his arms folded around her, gently at first and then harder, with more urgency. His mouth closed in on hers and everything in her world blurred. Into a kaleidoscope of colors. A swirling torrent of colliding feelings.

She couldn’t breathe for longing to be with him again, to feel his body on hers.

“Ten,” he whispered in the brief second their lips were apart.

She lifted her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair as he closed in again, harder this time, holding her as though nothing could ever part them again.

Through her haze, she heard a tingling, a bell. Angels applauding? No. The door.

Her arms came down to push him away and she stood back, trying to catch her breath. “You have to go,” she managed to push out.

He shook his head. “No.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “I’ll wait.”

Tensley turned away, focusing on a stack of bright covers in the romance section. A sliver of sunshine landed on the image of a man with his lips on a woman’s neck. She closed her eyes. “Leave.”

“Ten — ”

“I have a customer. A job. A real one.” What had she let herself do? He’d only break her heart again. She’d never asked him about kids. He probably had a whole family with Rhonda the Skank. One he’d be tied to for life. She snapped every last mental Tupperware container shut and stored it on a shelf so high she had to tiptoe to get to it. “Go.”

“I’ll be back.”

“Yeah, well.” Her fingers shook, but they waved him away. “I don’t think so.”

She straightened and took a deep breath. Max turned and left, the sound of his footsteps ringing on the wooden floor.

It wasn’t until after she’d helped her customer find a stack of mysteries, and she was alone in the store again, that she let her tears fall onto the wooden counter, sliding off the edge to land on the floor.

• • •

Patsy returned, glowing from time spent with her grandkids, in time for Tensley to go back to Kate’s and get a few hours of sleep before she had to be back at the club.

As she opened her locker, steadfastly avoiding another flyer with her picture on it, she wondered if Max and his detective friend had come up with anything else to pin on Gary yet. The sooner they did, the sooner she was out of here. Gary was such a sleazebag, it didn’t seem like it should take that much time.

She finished pulling on her costume, what there was of it, anyway, and shut the locker door, jumping in surprise when she saw Tawny standing behind it, staring at her. Hands on her leather-clad hips, the other dancer pinned Tensley to the wall with a single gaze. “You’re up,” Tawny said.

“What?”

“Half the damn world is out sick. I’ve got nobody to work the back room and two paying customers on the way. I said you’re up, so move your ass.”

Oh h-e-l-l no
. Now that push had apparently come to shove, she didn’t want to work that back room; she just wanted to get back there to see what went on. And call it in.

“Oh, okay. Great,” Tensley said, her voice faint. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to think what to do.

“You said you wanted extra time.”

“I did. Yes, I did. I said that.”

Tawny’s frown could have curdled milk. “Then get your ass back there so I can send them in.”

“I will. Going right — ” She pointed her finger at the dressing room door. “Now.” She studied her finger, then let it drop. “Just have to make a quick call and I’ll be right there.”

“Uh-uh.” Tawny shook her head. “No phone calls. No time.” She narrowed her eyes, looking suspicious. “Milo’s already back there. You want this or not?”

“Don’t I maybe get a trainer? Get to watch somebody first, so that I, you know, am sure about what I’m supposed to do?” She sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.

Tawny closed the short distance between them in less than a second, her eyes blazing into Tensley’s. “What do you think this is, McDonald’s? No, you don’t get a trainer. You get to tell me what the fuck is going on. And you get to tell me right now.”

“Noth — Nothing’s going on.” Tensley cleared her throat. “I just want to be sure I do a good job.”

“Milo will tell me if you screw up.” The dancer’s index finger stopped less than an inch from Tensley’s nose. “So don’t screw up.”

“Okay,” Tensley whispered.

“Follow me.”

Tensley had no choice but to do as ordered, leaving her cell, and the ability to call Max for help, in her locker. Oh God. What were these men expecting to get for their money? Olympic high divers began performing soaring plunges in her stomach as she followed Tawny out the door and down the hall.

She was a corporate executive. She didn’t get paid for sexual favors. She didn’t —
Whoa
. A dive from the highest board. She clutched at her midsection.