Dead on Arrival (8 page)

And ER Dano grinned.

I looked him square in the eye. “How about it? A little help?”

He got up, took a stack of dishes, and started toward the kitchen.

“Payback for me cleaning the ambulance,” I whispered as he passed me but fully not intending for him to hear.

“Touché,” he said over his shoulder.

Yikes. I had to keep my thoughts to myself around this guy. He was a sharp one!

Sharp enough to commit fraud?

I leaned against a chair and watched him walk through the doorway.

Great butt.

Geez, I hope he wasn't involved…in the fraud…or
with
anyone!

Thank goodness I had the job of cleaning up
, I thought. It at least kept me from ogling ER Dano and his great butt.

How pathetic.

Once the table was cleared, I took the salt and pepper shakers, Mickey and Minnie Mouse, which Mother had since the fifties I'm sure, into the kitchen. Lilla was wiping the counter.

Daddy had gone to the living room to read—an all night affair. Uncle Walt excused himself to go out—a date with old Lady Wimple, he'd whispered to me and winked at the same time.

Eeeeeeyew!

“I'm beat, Mrs. Sokol,” Miles said. “Gold, you ready?”

Goldie looked horrified.

My mother touched his arm. “I'll put you a slice of chocolate cake on a paper plate and you can take it home.”

He looked like one of my nephews on Christmas morning.

Gotta love Goldie.

Buzz watched my mother cut the cake, and I think he started to drool.

I had to laugh until I looked up and noticed ER Dano—staring at
me
!

I wanted to say, “What?” but held my tongue so as not to get into any argument in front of everyone. What the hell was he looking at? When I peeked at him again, he nodded his head toward the back door. Toward the back porch door.

Did he want me to follow him?

When he turned and hesitated, I nearly pointed to my chest and mouthed, “Me?” but it was clear so I said, “I need some air after all that work,” and before my mother could ask what work, I headed out the door and heard him say, “Good idea. Save me a piece, Mrs. S.”

The moon's glow shone rays of light onto the porch. In the distance the peepers chirped and a gentle breeze bathed the porch in comfort. The neighbors were their usual quiet selves, and only the din of traffic could be heard in the distance.

How very romantic
, I thought until I turned around to see ER Dano glaring at me—romantic is not the term I'd use to describe him.

“What the hell were you doing in Payne's office today, Nightingale?”

Oops.

I was never a good liar, but standing out on my parents' porch with ER Dano staring at me, almost in a threatening way, I decided I had to give it a shot. Lying that was. And, oh yeah, that sure was a threatening way.

“I got lost.” Even before the words came out, I heard myself scream inside my head. “
Are your nuts? That's the worse excuse I've ever heard, Pauline!
” However, the stupid words still came out. And now I
felt
stupid.

And you didn't want to feel stupid in front of Jagger or ER Dano.

Nope.

He took a step forward. I told myself, as I backed up, that it was his way of intimidating me, and I shouldn't let him. My butt touched the railing. Nowhere else to go but leap over. And that I couldn't do, or I really would feel like a fool when I landed on my butt in mom's hydrangeas. Besides, I had to stand up to Dano or forever face his chauvinistic attitude.

“You got lost?” His tone was almost sympathetic now—as if he thought I was some moron.

Moron? Well!

“Yeah,” I said and pushed past him with every fiber of my being trying not to notice that I'd touched his chest. Solid, rock-hard, works out 4-5 times per week chest by my best guess. Geez. I had to find a guy soon.

Dano turned and followed me, getting closer and closer until his hand was on my arm. Not as if he grabbed me. Nope. More as if he just wanted to touch me. I looked up into his darkened eyes.

Touch away, buddy.

In seconds I reminded myself that I was a professional and pulled back. “Excuse me?
Excuse
me?” Not sure even what I meant, I looked to see him just as confused.

“Why? What did you do, Nightingale?”

I faltered. The damn nickname. Then I pulled my shoulders straight and gathered up every ounce of sanity, hormone-free sanity that I could muster. “I didn't
do
anything.” This time I pushed him enough to get myself to the other side of the porch and finish with, “Nothing. I got lost, and you sound as if I did something…something wrong. And don't touch me like that.” Okay that last bit was overkill, but I knew if he touched me, I might crumble.

Now, mind you, I was not some namby-pamby weak female. Nope. But any female would crumble around a tower of testosterone like ER—and she'd probably love it.

Suddenly ER Dano was no longer appearing as a threat.

Damn it. Nope. Now he'd walked closer, stood a few feet away, looking oh-so-handsome and delicious in the moon's glow. How romantic. The only thing was, Dano might be a criminal, a liar and…a killer.

Naw.

My gut was denying all of that as nonsense, and I had to mentally agree. So, I took a step forward and said, “If you're so burned out on your job as a paramedic, why stick around TLC?” I needed to get to know him, spend some time around him—okay, make time with him. Yum.

Even he looked surprised at my candor—which, by the way, came out sounding very professional and intelligent.

At first he paused for a few uncomfortable minutes.

To think of a lie?

Then he stepped closer and took both of my arms into his hands. “Good question, Nightingale. As I said, my bucket has holes in it.”

“Hm?” His sincere tone had me speechless.

“You know. My bucket of all the crap that I see, have to deal with, and have to do something about. It has holes. As each day's work filters out, it's inevitably replaced—and often with things that are much worse.”

ER Dano's eyes darkened more and tears formed—which had to be killing him to keep from flowing.

My old nurse's nurturing nature kicked in—as usual against my will—and before I could think logically, my nursing nature had me turning the tide, and now
I
was holding ER Dano in my arms.

At first he tensed. A sympathetic guy. Wasn't that an oxymoron? One thing about Dano I was certain, he never wanted anyone's help. The guy was a powerhouse of self-investment. Clearly he didn't want to feel beholding to anyone or as if he needed anyone.

He appeared so strong, and yet, I'd bet my paycheck (much needed paycheck) that he had a teeny, tiny streak of softness in him.

I wondered what Dano's past relationships were like because I surmised that he definitely didn't want to be leaning on a woman.

But I eased him closer.

His warm breath breezed across my neck. Ah. Suddenly I thought it might be hard to comfort him—if my damn mind couldn't keep this plutonic. Platonic? His lips were on mine and the word no longer had any meaning. Pla what?

Dano's mouth covered mine.

I sighed.

Then he eased his arms around me until I felt secure in his hold,and leaned into him. Oh my.

When I reminded myself that I was on Stella Sokol's porch, I snuck a peek past Dano's shoulder. Good. No one. No one was in the doorway, in the window, or within ear's listening.

So I stretched up and returned Dano's kiss.

Oh my was right.

Dano's hand ran down my back, and a hitch in my breath filled the air. Not caring if anyone hurried outside to find out what the hell that noise was, I ran kisses along his cheek while running my hands through his hair.

“You smell good, Nightingale.” His voice as rough in an ER Dano sort of way, but an underlying tenderness, sensuality, in fact, had my knees weaken.

I couldn't think of the word to say I appreciated the comment. I was way too busy right now.

And it'd been way too long since I'd been kissed like this.

Jagger's were specifically Jagger kisses—wonderful, delicious, confusing, and mysterious.

And not that I'd trade them for these, but right now, ER Dano's said reality.

And I sure as hell wanted/needed this kind of reality.

ER Dano's kisses had me walking in a semi-trance into my mother's house after he'd eased back enough to say we should go inside.

The guy had class and concern. I'm sure he didn't want to take advantage of me out on my parent's porch—no matter that I
wanted
him to! Hey, Stella Sokol would probably celebrate that her only single daughter was getting some. Getting some? Surely my mother would not use that phrase, but then again, she did change all my undies to thongs once when I was out of town working a case.

We nonchalantly walked back into the dinning room, me with Dano's hand on the small of my back.

Everyone in the room glanced up, stared, and had the look of “Pauline just had sex” on their faces.

Or so I imagined.

Actually only my mother had that look, and I wasn't sure if she grinned in applause (Again, a thirty-something only single offspring) or grinned with the evil eye—igniting my Catholic school induced conscience.

“What's for dessert, Ma?” I asked using the nickname she hated, then felt like a jerk for using it since everyone glared at me.

“We had chocolate cake before, Pauline,” my mother said in a very condescending tone.

Before I could argue, okay, with nothing to argue about, I gave a weak smile, and ER Dano stepped forward.

“I have to rush off now. Fantastic meal, Mrs. S. Thanks so much for including us.” He poked Buzz on the shoulder, who must have been on his fourth piece of cake but got up and walked to the door, mumbling his thanks with Lilla right behind.

I leaned against the doorframe for a second, then remembered who the heck I was, grabbed my purse from beneath my chair, blew a kiss to my mom, and followed them.

“Goodnight, Daddy,” I yelled, passing the living room.

Once outside, Dano paused and gave Buzz a dirty look when he followed suit. So when Buzz said bye to me and hurried to their car and Lilla left in hers, Dano turned and said, “Dinner tomorrow night. Around seven. After the memorial service and get-together at Pansy's place.”

My jaw dropped, but I managed a nod—not sure if the idea that he'd kinda ordered me on a date with him was so shocking, or that the idea that the memorial service would be a great time for me to…get into snoop at Pansy's place.

I opened the front door of my condo the next morning—and nearly passed out.

Now I knew what the term “swooned” felt like.

Jagger stood there in a black suit. A classy one that said Armani, however I was no fashionada to be able to tell the difference. It took several minutes for me to comprehend that we were on our way to a memorial service for our late boss instead of heading to some fancy, schmancy restaurant for a candlelit dinner.

He looked
that
delicious.

And what really made my day was how he looked at
me
. As if I were a tasty morsel too. Not that I was aiming for sexy for a memorial service, but the only little black dress that I owned was a Jones New York one with three quarter length sleeves, slinky material and a V-neck that allowed a sampling of cleavage.

I did look tasty.

Jagger stood for a second, eased past me, and said, “Ready?”

I smiled. “I'm ready, and the car is that way.” I pointed behind him.

Without a word, he walked toward the kitchen. “Any more phone messages?”

Damn. I'd nearly forgotten since I hadn't received anymore. “No. Maybe that was just a fluke. Someone playing a joke.”

“Murderers don't joke, Pauline.”

“Gee. Thanks for that.” I followed him into the kitchen where I found him petting Spanky.

I think Jagger actually looked forward to seeing the dog. Maybe he was the only thing that could ground Jagger in reality. Give him a sense of family. Pets were amazing.

“We need to go or we'll be late.” I held the door open to the living room.

He patted Spanky on the head, turned and walked past me. When I followed him out the door and into his SUV, I thought of what an odd scene that had just been.

Jagger had seemed do down-to-earth. So un-Jaggerlike.

Maybe he was softening.

Jagger pulled his Suburban into a space in the parking lot of the TLC Ambulance Company. The lot was full since I figured all the employees were here to pay their respects. Coincidently the funeral home was just across the street, so parking here was logical since there was a get-together at Pansy's directly after the service. No trip to the cemetery, thank goodness, since Payne had been cremated.

Jagger took me by the elbow and guided me across the busy intersection. Waiting outside the door was ER Dano, who looked as if he cared that Jagger held my elbow.

Two guys showing interest in me. Two!

What a great feeling
, I told myself as I walked under the green canopy entryway. “Morning,” I said, smiling slightly since I didn't want to seem jovial at such a solemn event.

Dano nodded.

Jagger tightened his hold.

And I raised one eyebrow, moved away from both of them, and walked inside where I found Lilla, who had saved us a few seats.

I nodded to her, tried to ignore the huge cutout of Payne, and sat directly in front of Sky and Mario. Buzz was on the other side of Lilla, and I thought sitting much closer than necessary. Cute. Talk about opposites attracting.

Maybe he was vying for slot number five in the Lilla Marcel wedding bliss department.

I had to smile to myself because that was not a bad idea. Buzz, geez, now I was calling him that and had to remind myself that his real name was Jeremy. Might be just what Lilla needed for happiness even though he was a few years younger.

She leaned over. “Isn't that cardboard thing eerie?” I wanted to say, “You should have seen it in Pansy's office when I was snooping,” but remembered Jagger's sage advice that one never knew whose ears were tuned into you and would hear stuff about your case. I nodded and watched a man, I assumed was the minister, take the podium.

After several people had gotten up and spoken kind words about Payne, and most of the staff seemed to raise an eyebrow or shake a head at the falsehoods, Pansy was guided up to the front by Sky.

She looked at her cardboard brother and then at the crowd. No tears I noticed. But her face darkened in a deep crimson color. Then she turned again, glared, and pointed at Payne's image and cursed like a sailor!

Between the gasps of the mourners and the high-pitch of her voice, the place became a creepy, almost surreal atmosphere.

Pansy accused her brother of just about everything under the sun except the fraud, although she alluded to his “unhealthy business practices,” then she looked above all of our heads and offered a half-hearted apology of some sorts.

I could barely make sense of her rambling, but Sky and ER Dano finally got up, guided her away from the microphone down to her seat. Before she sat, she turned to us and yelled, “Everyone come to my place after this fiasco and celebrate.” Then she seemed to catch herself and added, “His life. Celebrate my brother Payne's life.” In a very unflattering, unbelievable tone she said, “He would have wanted that.”

She pushed Sky's arm from hers, nearly knocked ER Dano down in her haste, and hurried out the door.

The two guys stood speechless, the minister cleared his throat over and over and over, and the crowd hushed until Jagger got up, took my arm, and led me toward the door, which got everyone else moving.

“Wow,” I murmured.

Jagger looked at me and shook his head—this time not at me though. “Just shows you that it takes all kinds.”

“How prophetic,” I said and this time his hand was on my lower back, so I immediately felt safe and couldn't care less about Pansy's nutty eulogy.

Okay, I'd relive her whacko words over and over to see if it would help my case but later—I mean, Jagger's hand was on my back.

We crossed the street, followed by the crowd of mourners who were now laughing and chatting about Pansy—and, I might add, agreeing with everything she'd said.

“Seems as if finding Payne's murderer is going to be difficult if one considers motive,” I said.

Jagger looked at me. “Sure is. Feels like a mob mentality. And they are all in agreement.”