Dirty (11 page)

Fury churned deep in my belly.
 
Why was it when the divorce happened the women always felt like the guilty party?
 
I hadn’t sent my husband into another woman’s arms.
 
I was there for him.
 
“Bastard,” I muttered.

“There are few men like your father, Jackie.”

I looked up as mother, fully robed thankfully, strolled Elizabeth Taylor style, into the room.
 
She wore a dove white silk robe and matching slippers that sported a two-inch heel and were embellished with froths of fur.
 
Her hair and make-up looked as if she’d just stepped out of the salon.
 
Why hadn’t I inherited any of those elegant, sophisticated genes?

“The rest of them are real shits like your ex.”
 
She sat down beside me.
 
The movement as graceful and delicate as a feather floating down onto the cushions.
 
“Take my advice when it comes to men, baby.”
 
She clasped my icy hand in her warm, caring ones.
 
“Get a dog, they’re more loyal and they don’t live as long.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was late when I returned to the office, after five.
 
I’d spent some time with Mom. I’d needed that kind of bonding.
 
Someone to tell me the past wasn’t my fault and that there was still hope for a normal romantic relationship in my life.

I didn’t exactly get that last part.
 
Maggie Mercer, as much as she’d loved my dad, insisted that a dog was a much better solution nowadays.
 
Loyalty and all that crap.
 
Changing times, no good men to be found, et cetera.
 
I had to admit that the idea of coming home to a loving, warm body every night had its appeal.
 
But then a dog would entail feedings, doggie walks and trips to the vet.

Clearly I was on the rebound from great sex tainted with major disappointment.
 
Oh, yes, and ghosts from the past.
 
That part bothered me the most of all.
 
Was he really dead?
 
The man in the photo I remembered so very vividly, but whose name I didn’t know?

Then I thought of Derrick Dawson and his ambition to work at my agency.
 
The moment his name popped into my head tingly heat swirled beneath my belly button.
 
Evidently my judgment couldn’t be trusted just now, not that it ever could where handsome men were concerned.
 

I opted not to mention the strange message I’d received to my mother since she would only worry about me.
 
I was a big girl.
 
I could take care of myself.

I parked and made my way through the rear entrance of the Mercer Agency.

“You’ve got messages,” Hobbs said before I’d even reached my office door.
 
He looked up at me and offered a smug smile.

Uh-oh.
 
I knew that look.
 
I walked over to his desk and accepted the cluster of messages but didn’t read any of them.
 
Something was going on with my assistant.

He tapped the top message.
 
“Betsy Wells,” he said with one of those you’re-not-going-to-believe-this looks.
 
“She called to thank you for taking care of her bond. I didn’t bother mentioning that it was
moi
she should thank.”

I nodded then frowned.
 
“Betsy?
 
As in the one who goes to church with my mother?”
 
I patted the top of my head.
 
“Wears the pink bonnet all the time?”

Hobbs nodded.
 
“The one and only.”

A laugh choked out of me.
 
“What’d she do?
 
Commit a violent act against a housefly?”
 
My multi-talented assistant took care of the bail bonding as often as I did.
 
Strangely enough I was sorry I’d missed that one.
 
Betsy Wells?
 
She was like the personification of the kindly grandmother everyone pictured on the porch in a rocking chair.

“Jasper took the last beer,” Hobbs explained.
 
“Must have really miffed her because she shot him.”

I did a double take.
 
“Run that one by me again.”

“She shot her husband for taking the last beer in the house,” Hobbs said slowly and loudly as if I was hearing impaired.
 
I winced.
 
Thankfully his voice lowered as he added, “But he’s okay.
 
She didn’t hit anything vital.”
 
Hobbs lifted a skeptical eyebrow.
 
“Not that there’s that many working vital parts left at his age.
 
Anyway, he was the one who called to have her bond posted.”

I just shook my head.
 
I was too beat to cipher the messages in my hand or the strange behavior of our local senior citizens.
 
Considering the half naked mob I’d encountered on the courthouse steps maybe someone needed to look into what the pharmaceutical industry was up to besides jacking up prices.
 
“I’ll take care of these in the morning,” I said, waving the notes in my hand.

“Maybe you’d like the new investigator to take care of those.”

My head snapped up.
 
Hobbs wore a victorious grin. “What?”

He glanced past me.
 
I turned to my office and sure enough there sat Dawson.
 
At least the back of the head and the navy jacket looked familiar.

“He’s here to tell me he couldn’t handle Big Hoss, right?”
 
Some rogue brain cell from the intuitive side of my gray matter protested, letting me know I wasn’t getting off that easily.

My impertinent assistant shrugged.
 
“You’ll have to ask that question for yourself.”

“I’ll do that.”
 
I marched into my office and didn’t slow until I’d put my desk between me and the man who stood the moment I entered the room.
 
Considering he showed no outward signs of physical altercation and looked as laid back as he had that morning, I concluded he had failed in his mission.

“We had a deal, Mr. Dawson,” I said firmly as I tossed my messages onto my desk and my bag onto the floor. “I appreciate your determination but I need an investigator I know can meet the challenges of the work we do here at the Mercer Agency.”

“I understand.”
 
He tipped his head in acknowledgement of my tirade.
 
“As you say, we had a deal.”
 
He eased closer to my desk, scarcely two steps and I was mesmerized by the fluid movements.
 
He offered a document to me.
 
“I kept up my end.”

I stared at the paper for several seconds before my brain assimilated what my eyes saw.
 
Body receipt.
 
Hoss Aiken.
 
Today’s date.
 
All in a nice big, bold font typed by the processing sergeant.
 
Probably the same one who hadn’t smiled at me that morning.

A traitorous surge of admiration went through me before I could beat it back.
 
“Mr. Dawson—”

“Just Dawson,” he countered.

Oddly there was a vulnerability in those blue eyes that I hadn’t noticed that morning.
 
Maybe this job meant more to him than I’d first thought.

And maybe I’m the biggest sucker on the globe.
 
This guy had trouble flashing like a neon sign from those baby blues.
 
He was too damned good-looking.
 
Too sexy.
 
Too young.
 
Trouble with a capital T followed by a long line of exclamation points.
 
But somehow I couldn’t deny that every female chromosome in my body went on alert whenever he was near.
 
There was just something about the guy.

And I had made a deal with him.
 
I’d been so sure he would fail I’d wagered it all and lost the farm in the process.
 
Talk about cocky and I didn’t even have any balls.

I was about to break my own first rule: keep my work life totally separate from my sex life.
 
For ten years I had adhered to that distinct division better than most politicians managed their first year in office.

“All right, Dawson.”
 
I swallowed, even his name stuck in my throat in that way that told me in no uncertain terms that I was dangerously attracted to the guy.
 
“You get the job.
 
But
,” I qualified, forcing a firmer tone and using his own offer against him, “if I’m not fully satisfied with your performance you’re gone.
 
No questions asked.”
 
Already I felt myself clinging to the desperate hope that he would screw up...otherwise I surely would.

He smiled.
 
My knees pulled a Judas on me by giving way and making me sway ever so slightly.
 
“I’ve never failed to satisfy a woman in my life,” he let me know.
 
The smile widened to a grin.
 
“Trust me.”

Oh yeah.
 
Trouble, indeed.

Ignoring his overconfident assurances I gestured to his chair.
 
“We still have a few things to clarify.”

He dropped back into the upholstered chair, a maddening look of triumph in his expression.
 
“Shoot.”

Don’t tempt me, was my first thought.
 
But a deal was a deal.
 
“I need to know why you assaulted your superior.”
 
Before he could protest, I explained, “It’s important that we start out here with a clean slate.
 
Anything less than complete honesty is unacceptable.”

He crossed one leg over the other, propping an ankle on his knee and flared his hands in a sign of openness.
 
“All right.
 
No secrets.
 
My lieutenant was banging my fiancé.
 
I punched his lights out when I caught them in my bed.
 
That’s why he was so eager to keep the incident off the record.”

Damn.
 
I hadn’t expected that.
 
“That’s tough.”

“Yeah, well.”
 
He shrugged.
 
“I guess she was kind of like your ex.
 
Unreliable in the commitment department.”

I tensed, resisted the urge to leap to conclusions.
 
“What do you know about my ex?”
 
Dawson was a former detective.
 
It wasn’t actually surprising that he’d checked me out.
 
What was totally unnerving, however, was that he had the brass balls to bring it up.
 
Balls appeared to be part of the underlying theme for today.
 
Bob, my mother, my assistant and this new hireling took obvious pleasure in flaunting theirs.

“I know a lot about you.”
 
That smile curled those carnal lips once more sending a new flush of warmth across my cheeks and an insistent throb between my legs.
 
“I’ve read everything I could find on you and how you made this agency what it is.
 
A few flicks of the keys on Google is all it takes.”

I blinked, startled.
 
Told myself that he merely admired and respected me.
 
“That’s why you wanted to work here?”

“I wanted to work with the best.”
 
He paused a moment to give impact to his next words.
 
“You’re the best, Jackie.”

It was his eyes more than what he said...a kind of sizzle reached all the way across my desk and burned right through me as if I’d touched a frayed electrical wire.
 
I rocketed to my feet almost stumbling over my treasured Birkin on the floor where I’d foolishly left it when I sat down.
 
For the first time since my divorce the urge to run was almost overpowering.
 

“Well.”
 
I grabbed up the handful of messages I’d abandoned and shuffled through the stack with feigned interest.
 
“I should finish up here.
 
I have plans tonight.”
 
I refused to look at him.
 
He was far too perceptive to risk him recognizing the lie.

The chair creaked as he pushed to his feet.
 
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

I made an agreeable sound, still mulling over the yellow slips in my hands.
 
God knows I couldn’t read half the words.
 
I needed those damned glasses Hobbs had out there on his desk.
 
I hated getting old.

“I guess I’ll be going.”

Dammit.
 
He kept standing there.
 
Waiting for me to look up...to acknowledge him somehow.
 
Finally, I forced myself to do the necessary.
 
I looked up, organized my lips into a passable smile. “Have a nice evening.
 
Hobbs will get you settled and answer any other questions you have in the morning.”

Dawson nodded, those keen eyes studying me as if I were a newly discovered substance under a microscope and he couldn’t wait to patent me.
 
I blocked the intrusion, barely deflecting the full reach of that penetrating stare.
 

“Good night, Jackie,” he said after what felt like forever.

He turned around and took his sweet time swaggering out of my office, ensuring my rapt attention fastened on his gorgeous ass. Like it wasn’t bad enough that I was still smoldering from the way he said my name.
 
This was such a monumental mistake.
 
One I could already feel myself regretting and I hadn’t done anything yet but lust after the guy.