The Devil Makes Three (16 page)

“Oh,” I muttered through the pain of impact. As grateful as I was that I hadn’t been beneath it, I still felt sorry for Melissa Welton. “Sorry about that.”

Catching my breath, I got to my feet once more. Glancing up, I wondered if the few inches the vault lid gave me would help my plight. Looking up to asses my situation I found myself staring at Corbin.

“You had me worried there for a second. I really didn’t want to have to fill in the grave over you and your treasure,” he said with a smile. “Are those shoes?”

I realized I still clutched my booty in my hands and nodded. “Yeah. They’re shoes. $150.00 at Nordstrom to be precise.”

“Women have odd priorities. Tell me, will those shoes get you a dental plan?”

“Don’t mock me. How long have you been watching?”

“Not long. I was walking over here when I heard the vault lid fall. I’m serious when I say I thought I was going to have to bury you to hide your secret and maintain your precious reputation for your parents.”

Well that was something at least. He wasn’t all bad.

“Would you please throw the ladder down?” I tried to keep my tone calm and friendly. After all, if it wasn’t for him showing up, I very well could be busted.

He did as I asked, and pulled me into his arms once I stood on the grass. “You really had me worried. I thought I was going to have to find a new employee.”

“That would be a shame. Thanks for your personal concern.”

He brushed my hair back from my face and kissed me gently. His lips tasted something like an orange and he smelled like a forest. Taking a deep breath, I couldn’t help but burn the scent of him, and feeling of his arms around me, into my being, to be recalled at the slightest provocation.

“It would be a shame, Temptress. Take care of yourself. Next time you might want to use two straps, just in case you have to engage in more acrobatics.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

Chapter 14

In which Corbin brings presents from Paris.

Or so he claims.

The next morning I walked into my apartment and found the promised present sitting on my kitchen table. I had completely forgotten it after the drama of the night before. It was wrapped in a thin black box and tied with a thick black ribbon. Pulling the bow off, I flipped the lid open and found a black lace nightgown with red trim and a matching lace robe. Pulling them from the box I held them up to my body and shivered, imagining the possibilities that had flitted through his mind as he purchased it.

Of course, for all I knew he hadn’t just purchased one. He might have purchased one for every girl he had between here and France. That was, if he had actually gone to France. Probably it was just between here and Jersey.

For a moment I wondered how long it would take someone to do something like that. Had Cohen had the time to go to France and I just hadn’t noticed? If that were the case, Corbin very well could have a woman at every port between here and there.

With this idea came a tinge of jealousy. Not to mention a recollection of how good he smelled and how strong his arms were. 

In my room I shed my jeans and sweater and donned the nightgown, just to see if he had done his homework properly. He had. It fit like skin and looked pretty darn good. My initial instinct was to take it right off, but it felt cowardly so I left it on, instead sliding the robe over it and connecting the small clasp between my breasts. With the robe, it wasn’t so see-through. I turned and went back out into the kitchen, in desperate need for something to calm my nerves. I didn’t like the ideas floating around my head in connection with the gift and a sedative was just the thing needed to solve the problem.

In my cupboard I found some pills and downed them without water then collapsed on the couch, to watch M*A*S*H until sleep came.

I woke sometime later to the M*A*S*H menu screen on the TV and Corbin crouching in front of me, tracing my arm under the sleeve of the robe. The look on his face was somewhere between controlled and desperately hungry.

“I see you like it.”

He glanced from where he stared to my face. “I have very good taste.”

“Did your other women look as good as me?”

His finger stopped in its progress up my arm and his hand slid down to flatten itself against my stomach. “This may shock you, but I don’t make a habit of buying things for women.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“That’s because it doesn’t bear answering.” He rose from his position next to the couch and sat on the edge, leaning over me.

“So I’m the only one you bought something for?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Do you really want an answer to that ridiculous ploy to ascertain how many women are in my life?”

“Yes.”

“Hypocrite. How many men are in your life?” his lips brushed mine and I couldn’t help but proffer my mouth further. It was simply an uncontrollable reaction. I wanted him to kiss me the way he had kissed me the night before. I wanted to taste the oranges. Only this time, I could already tell it wasn’t oranges, but mango. The man liked fruit.

“I have way too many men in my life,” I said when he made no move to relieve me of my want. Instead, he scooped me up off the couch and carried me through the kitchen, down the small hall to my bedroom. “What are you doing?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“You should be in bed.”

“And you?”

Kissing me softly he laid me down upon my blankets. “Where would you like me to be?”

Inner conflict assuaged me. I really didn’t know the answer to that. Flirting was one thing, but now that we were here, on the threshold of a major brink, I wasn’t quite sure.

Sensing my hesitation, he leaned in closer and whispered in my ear. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have woken you up if you had left the key where I could find it. You didn’t seem in a state to deal with the business at hand last night, so I thought I’d drop by this morning. I do need the key, after all, and you need your payment.”

I blinked, registering the change in topic. “What?”

He laughed. “What? You think you’re really that irresistible? I couldn’t keep from dropping by to see if you’d model my present? Temptress, take your ego down a notch. Hot? Yes. Fantasy-inducing? You bet, but hardly a feeling I can’t restrain. Now where is the key?”

I glared and pushed him back from the bed. “You’re such scum!”

“I thought you’d be relieved to know I can control myself. But apparently you can’t.”

Standing up I strode over to where I’d left my jeans on the floor and tossed them to him. Then I stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Shedding the nightgown I got in the shower and began prepping for the day. When I came out, he was gone.

Chapter 15

In which questions lead to trouble.

Saturday night I settled into Collin’s passenger seat with Corbin’s prediction of our first dinner date running circles in my head. It was like a fly I couldn’t see to swat and thus had to suffer with.

“Is something wrong?” asked Collin, peering at me expectantly.

“Just nervous. Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Why?”

“Why? Do you really need a list? Of the two people in this car, you’ve got the most to lose.”

“True, but then I’m not anticipating any problems. It’s not like we’re having dinner in the campus commons.”

“I know. I’m just a worrier. Where are we going?”

“Well we’ve had Chinese together so I thought we might try Mexican food tonight. There’s a little place near my house that has great flavor but is a little hot. You don’t mind that, do you?”

The mental image Corbin had painted for me intensified and I busied myself by searching through my bag for lipstick. “No. I don’t mind spicy food, but I don’t have any gum, so I can’t promise my breath will be very pleasant.”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll get some gum if it proves overwhelming for you. It’s not a busy place, but it’s good. And then, after that I thought we could see where the evening takes us.”

Meaning?

The restaurant was everything Corbin predicted: small, dark and practically empty; It didn’t encourage me. It was, after all, a Saturday night. If the place was so good why was it deserted?

We settled down at a table and I peered at the menu, noticing he didn’t bother. “You must eat here a lot.”

“Not really, but I know what I want.”

“What might that be?”

“Other than you?” He smiled and twitched his menu. “I usually get the shredded beef enchiladas.”

“Smothered?”

“Is there any other way?”

I went back to the menu. Not until after the waitress had taken our order did I deem it time to address his flirtatious comment. “So you want me, huh?”

“What? Oh. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“What exactly does that entail for you?”

His smile broadened, at ease with the conversation. I was glad someone was. My nerves stood at attention, ready for anything to go wrong.

“Would you like a detailed list or generalities?”

“Generalities will do for now.”

“Wanting you entails spending time with you, figuring out what makes you tick, what you’re hiding and what makes you laugh.”

“What I’m hiding?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think I’m hiding something?”

“Aren’t you?”

The million qualifiers danced in front of me, teasing me, daring me to tell him. “Are you hiding something?” I asked instead.

“Of course.”

“It’s not a bag of hair in your closet or a fetish for cat meat is it?”

“No.”

I considered his calm manner. “Well, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

He nodded. “True. I don’t have people buried in my cellar or a penchant for politics. I’m fairly normal. But everyone has something to hide.”

“What makes you think I’ll tell you my deep dark secrets if you won’t tell me yours?”

“I never said I wouldn’t tell you. I’m just not going to tell you yet,” he said, sounding completely relaxed with the idea of someone finding out his darkest story. “I don’t expect you to tell me now either. That’s why I’m going to try and figure it out for myself.”

I raised my glass to toast his efforts and took a sip. Putting it back down, I licked the excess liquid from my lips and watched his reaction. His eyes studied my mouth with an intensity I recognized from both his and Corbin’s face on numerous occasions. That didn’t bode well for my Cohen/Corbin theory. “I don’t think you’ll be able to pin my secrets down on your own,” I said, brushing the thought aside. Maybe it was better if Corbin was in Collin. Crazy, yes. But then I found both men incredibly irresistible and that way I could still consider myself a one-man woman. Couldn’t I?

“Why do you think I can’t figure your secrets out on my own?”

“There’s too many of them.”

“I’ll just have to work harder then.” He sipped his drink and studied me with an appraising eye. “Let’s see. What could your secrets be? You live by yourself, you’re a twenty-something. Have you ever had a roommate?”

“No. I don’t think I could share my personal space with someone else for an extended period of time.”

He nodded. “Mental note: marriage not for you.”

I blushed slightly and took another drink. “Not now, anyway.”

“Alright. What else? You work at a funeral home late at night. You don’t see dead people, do you?”

“Define ‘see dead people’.” I couldn’t help myself. It left so many possibilities open now that I’d said it, but it was just too perfect a reply to pass up.

He chuckled, seeing nothing dark to my request. “I mean walking around, posthumously.”

“Hmmm. No, not generally. They stay in their coffins.”

“But you do see them?” His eyebrows rose.

I crinkled my nose and sighed. “Well sometimes.”

“When?”

“When I’m doing my rounds, checking windows and stuff like that.”

“I would think with that huge gate locked there wouldn’t be much need for security.”

“It’s an insurance issue.”

“So you work for your family, but really spend most of the time doing what?”

“Homework. Sleeping. TV or the Internet is in there too.”

“Do you ever think about quitting?”

I shrugged. “I fantasize about a nice, normal job for myself sometimes. But there’s really no point. I’ve got to start learning the business side of it soon. My dad doesn’t want to stick around forever and I’ll have to take over.”

“How soon?”

“Pretty soon. He’s in his late forties.”

Collin chuckled. “And then there’s my father. He’ll work till the day he dies, and not because he has to. Anyway, I thought you didn’t want to take over.”

“I don’t, but then no other career really stands out so I might as well go with the one offered. Anyway, it’s job security. There are two morticians who can handle all the wet work and I’ll handle the business.”

“Wet work?”

“Embalming and stuff like that. I’ll be the greeter in the black dress, offering tissues and sympathy.”

He smiled, eyebrows high. “That’s a job right up your alley.”

“Hey! I can be sympathetic.”

“I never said you couldn’t. I just don’t think it’s your natural disposition.”

I furrowed my brow and swirled my drink. “What’s my natural disposition?”

“Testing. Abrasive in your own quiet way. Defiant. Definitely defensive. I think you prefer to remain emotionally distanced from most everything.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Send me a bill for the house call.”

#

Dinner was perfect, much to my surprise, but nothing ever seems to go my way. As we rose to leave, Collin pushed his chair back into a passing waiter and a tray of food cascaded down over the table. Not only was I splashed with enchilada sauce, but Collin was covered with smothered cheese and jalapeños.

For a split moment, we both sat in shock, then began to laugh. The expression of humor was more out of desperation on my part than anything else. It thinly masked the urge to cry.

It took a few minutes for the staff to get things sorted out, but Collin and I soon found ourselves on the street, reeking of Mexican food and making our way to his car.