Rose Quartz (8 page)

Ignoring the tension between them, she made the introductions. “Jeffrey Privette,” she motioned with her hand toward Hank, “Hank McHenry.”

Holding the delicate hot pink cup gingerly with one hand, he stuck out the other. “I’m in your debt.”

Hank clasped it.

Bella watched, half fearing a macho male-gripping contest but Hank shook the lawyer’s hand then dropped it.

“Come in the kitchen and I’ll get you a cup of coffee,” she said to Hank. She strolled into the kitchen, the men behind her.

Pouring another cup of steaming dark coffee, she handed it to Hank. “So why are you here, Jeffrey?”

“To make sure you’re all right. I just heard about what happened last night. I thought you’d call, Bella.”

“As you can see, I’m fine.” She sipped her coffee, watching him over the rim of her cup.

Jeffrey’s expression narrowed to a thoughtful frown. His gaze swung back to Hank. “Your being here was quite fortuitous.”

“You could say that,” Hank said, his colorful face expressionless.

Jeffrey ran his hand down his perfectly creased gray trousers. “Bella’s never mentioned you before.”

Hank looked at him from hooded eyes. “Is there any reason she should have?”

It was a loaded question and everyone in the room knew it.

“I like to think so.”

Hank took a sip of coffee, sat it on the counter and rocked back on his heels. “Like don’t always make it so.”

“How long are you staying, McHenry?” Jeffrey’s voice had an edge to it and a tic jumped at the corner of his mouth.

“I haven’t decided yet. You got a problem with me being here?” He tucked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans, his poise casual, his eyes alert. He rested lightly on the balls of his feet.

Jeffrey sat down his cup. “I may have.”

Bella straightened. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness in checking on me, Jeffrey, but I think you’d better go.”

He jerked his head back as if he’d been struck. “Do you know what you’re saying, Bella?”

“We weren’t an item, sugar.”

“Do you always go down on men you aren’t an item with?” he sneered, his face white.

She saw Hank’s fist clench and stepped hastily between them. “He’s a lawyer,” she said conversationally to Hank. “No matter how great the provocation, never ever hit an attorney.”

Hank’s jaw was set so tight she didn’t think he’d ever pry it open. He moved her aside.

Jeffrey took one look at the fire in Hank’s eyes and opted for flight instead of a fight.

Puss–Puss, not caring for the tension in the air, swung out with his paw and hooked his claws in Jeffrey’s high-dollar gray suit, ripping it as the attorney rushed past.

Hank shook off Bella and caught up with the younger man in several long-legged strides. He spun Jeffrey around, grabbed him by his shirtfront, lifted him off his feet and planted him against the door. “Now you aren’t ever going to talk to a lady like that again, are you?” he asked in a voice soft with deadly intent.

When Jeffrey didn’t answer right away Hank thumped him against the wall. “Are you?”

Jeffrey shook his head.

Hank’s grip tightened. “I believe you owe Ms. Tremaine an apology.” For good measure he thumped him against the wall again, causing a nearby picture to rattle against the drywall.

“I’m sorry, Bella,” Jeffrey gasped out. “That was a filthy thing to say.”

“That’s better.” With obvious reluctance, Hank released the attorney and opened the door.

Jeffrey opened his mouth to say something. He looked at Hank’s set jaw, snapped it shut and hurried out.

Hank took a deep breath and flexed his fingers.

She walked up to him and touched his cheek. “My hero. Thank you for defending my honor.”

He grabbed her hand and held it. “What did you see in that man milliner?”

She laughed. “Now, Hank, you’ve got to admit he’s pretty to look at.”

He rolled his eyes then glanced down at their clasped hands. He stared at them for a long moment then raised his head and looked into her eyes. Something elemental and as raw as lightning flashed between them.

Her muscles loosened and her lips parted. She raised her face to his. He was going to kiss her and she was going to let him.

His heated gaze swept over her features then he dropped her hands and took a step back. “Are you into casual relationships?”

Her head jerked up. After Jeffrey’s comment it felt like Hank had just slapped her. “Are you, cowboy?”

“Not with you.”

“What does that mean?” she fired back, fisting her hands on her hips.

“Figure it out.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t going to jump your bones, just kiss you.”

“One of us would have been jumping bones and the other would have been responding.”

Heat shot through her, flushing her face. “That sounds rather arrogant.”

“Only if it’s not true.”

“Well,” was all she could think to say.

She touched her amulet.

“Don’t do that, Bella.” His eyes darkened, color rode high on his lean weathered cheeks.

“Do what?” she stalled.

“And don’t play games. I’m sure you are good at it but I admire the way you can call a spade a spade even if it is dressed up with sugar and goo.”

She heaved a sigh. “Actually I was trying for some inspiration when I touched the amulet. I don’t quite know what to make of you, Hank McHenry.”

“Oh, you know what to make of me, all right.” his crispy Yankee vowels softened and went as smooth as malt whiskey. “It’s us you don’t know what to make of.” He shrugged, his thumbs still hooked in his pockets. “Neither do I. I’m pushing fifty, Bella, and I feel like an awkward teenager with his first crush on a girl. You are way out of my league. And this is way more talkin’ than I’m used to doing.” He ran his fingers through his hair in a restless gesture. “Listen to me, I sound like a babbling fool.”

“That’s one thing it would be impossible for you to sound like, Hank McHenry.” For a moment her guard was down. The sugared Southern belle persona set firmly aside. Staring up at him, she jumped when the call box sounded.

He looked at her in disbelief, “Is it always this busy around here?”

Still off-center she just stood looking at him.

“Bella?”

She blinked and reached automatically for her amulet but he caught her hand and held it in a gentle clasp.

“Don’t. If you ratchet up your beauty one more notch I won’t be responsible. You don’t need this for a creative response. You’ve got a good mind, woman, use it.”

“Damn but you’re right.” She could feel her eyes sparkling as she gave him a sensual smile, studying him beneath hooded lids. Her lips stretched in satisfaction. His reaction was all she could hope for. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He dropped her hand and took a step back.

The call box sounded again. She flipped her hair off her neck with her fingers and raised an eyebrow then turned and sashayed into the foyer. For a moment back there she’d let the cowboy get to her but she was back in control and that’s just the way she liked it.

“Ms. Bella.” Bobby’s voice echoed through the foyer.

She pressed the button. “Yes, Bobby?”

“You have a visitor.”

Who
,
Bobby
?
She rolled her eyes but said in a calm voice, “Who is it?”

There was a long pause. For a moment, Bella was afraid he’d forgotten the question.

“Mr. Johnny Morelly.”

Bella reeled, finding her newly won control slipping. Too bad there wasn’t a back way out of this place.

She cleared her throat. “Is there anyone with him?”

“There are two goon…er, men standing in front of his car.”

“Miz Tremaine?” Johnny’s slick-as-oil voice came over the speaker.

She leaned forward, toward the box. “Yes?”

“I’m alone, may I come up?”

“Why?” she asked bluntly.

“I need to speak to a Hank McHenry and I believe he’s staying with you. Would you like your doorman to pat me down?”

She bit back several pithy remarks, none of them complimentary to the mob boss or her doorman.

As she turned her head, she saw Hank standing at the edge of the foyer, his legs splayed, his muscles taut. He gave a curt nod.

“Are you crazy?” she mouthed.

For a moment she could have sworn his eyes twinkled but she must have imagined it. The next instant his features were as taciturn as ever. “Do it, Bella.”

She heaved a sigh from deep in her belly, causing her breasts to rise and fall beneath her paint-stained white tee shirt. Hank glanced away. “Send him up,” she said.

Taking her finger off the intercom, she whirled on Hank and hissed, “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“No point in putting this off. Where’s your little derringer?”

“Where’s your pistol?” she countered.

“Under the seat of my truck. Damn stupid of me.”

“You’re slipping, sugar,” she drawled then turned and headed upstairs. She walked into her bedroom, slid open her bedstand drawer and pulled out her little pearl-handled derringer. Checking to see if the safety was on, she slipped it in the waistband of her jeans and walked back downstairs just as someone knocked on the door.

Hank looked a question.

She nodded. He motioned her back toward the stairs. She stepped backward onto the first step where she could keep a discreet eye on the situation then slid the gun out of her pants. Hank opened the door.

Johnny Morelly stepped in. It had been a while since Bella had seen him. She studied him from her perch on the stairs. He hadn’t changed a bit except maybe a few more lines creased his forehead.

He kept in shape. She’d give him that. Of medium height, his body looked hard enough to bounce balls off. He wore a flashy pinstriped suit and a three-carat diamond stickpin centered in a silver tie. Black patent leather wingtips graced his large feet. He had a swarthy-olive complexion and curly black hair that he slicked back from his forehead. A good-looking man if you were into criminal types.

Johnny’s gaze swept Hank, a hard, encompassing look that Hank returned and then some. “I’m Johnny Morelly.”

Hank gave a clipped nod. “Hank McHenry.”

Neither man extended hands.

Johnny glanced up the stairs. “Ah, Bellissima, you are as lovely as ever.”

“Johnny.” She dipped her chin.

He stared pointedly at the gun and his face filled with sadness. He put his hands out, palms upward, “You don’t need that. I come in peace, a truce if you will. To see if we can’t find a common meeting ground and come to terms.”

With each word out of Johnny’s handsome full-lipped mouth, Hank’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching and unclenching. He bared his teeth in a snarl. “You bastard, you tried to kill her.”

Johnny shrugged. “Business.”

Hank’s eyes sparked with loathing. “You kill women and call it business.”

“Life is not for the weak stomached.”

“Why you…” Hank lunged.

The two men grappled.

Bella came pelting off the landing. “Stop it. Stop it, you two.”

They ignored her, each determined to pound some respect into the other.

She ran to the kitchen, threw her gun on the counter, grabbed a pan and filled it with water. Cold liquid sloshed from the saucepan as she raced to the foyer. She drew back her arms and heaved. The water lifted in a magnificent arc and fell like a waterfall over both antagonists. They came apart, sputtering.

Her head tipped to the side, she looked at Hank critically. “You need to watch your temper.”

Johnny pulled a Glock from his shoulder holster and aimed it at Hank. Hank’s eyes cut to Bella and this time it was he who looked critical. “Where’s your gun?”

She gave him a weak smile. “In the kitchen.” She lifted her pan. “I could always try bashing it over his head.”

Johnny shook his head and sighed heavily. “You have turned a serious occasion into a farce.”

Hank’s eyes remained fixed on the gun, his eyes narrowed, his expression intent.

The cat stalked into the room, back arched, fur standing on end.

Johnny moved the gun with practiced ease between Hank and the cat.

Bella’s heart gave a hard leap. If two men old enough to know better wanted to kill each other so be it, but no one messed with her cat. She gripped her pan. Looking at Johnny, she spoke with deadly intent, a promise ripe in her voice, “You hurt my cat, sugar, and I’ll kill you myself.”

Johnny slipped the gun back into his shoulder holster. “As a gesture of good faith. Now will you invite me in? We need to talk.”

Bella gestured toward the living room.

Johnny looked pointedly at the cat.

Bella bent and sat her pan on the floor. “Puss–Puss.” She patted her chest then held out her arms. With a graceful leap, the cat landed in them. “Gentlemen, shall we?” She led the way into the living room.