The Sweetheart Racket (11 page)

T
aryn walked past Gretchen, with a good morning and a perfunctory glance at her newest pre-Thanksgiving sweater. Against a bright orange backdrop, it appeared as if two smiling turkeys were fornicating on her breasts.

A second horrified glance assured her that they were actually dancing and not making baby turkeys. Yipes.

She hurried away.

“Hey.” Summer's blue eyes turned away from the screen when Taryn stepped into her office. She gave Taryn an assessing once-over. “You look rested.”

After sending Thurston away, she'd showered, dropped on her bed, and slept through the next fourteen hours. Surprisingly, Rick hadn't invaded her dreams. She'd taken that as a sign that keeping their relationship impersonal was the right way to go.

“I did.” She ran through her day, keeping the kissing parts to herself. “It ended with my getting asked on a date.”

Blue eyes lit up. “That's something good, right? Who is the guy? Where did you meet him?”

“He lives in the house next door and he's fourteen.”

Summer snort-laughed and said in her best Texas drawl, “Darlin', you do like them young'uns.”

“Sadly, his is the best offer I've had in months.” Well, there was Rick. But his offer was more of the implied sexual variety and not the innocent date night sort. Telling Summer about that would only bring more drama, so she kept the topic on Thurston. “He brought flowers.”

“What a sweetheart,” Summer said. “Too bad my younger sister lives in Dallas. I'd ask you to fix her up with one of your teenage admirers.”

Summer was blond, blue-eyed, and beautiful. She was built like a fifties pinup, which often led people to stereotype her. Well, men mostly. She was no bubblehead. And once she opened her mouth, they never made that mistake again.

This led her to a general aversion toward dating. She wanted to be appreciated for her brain, not her breasts.

“Did I miss my invite to the party?” Jess joined them and sat on the desk. She was dressed in camo pants and matching tee for a case involving a man poaching deer off-season. She looked like she was about to be shipped to Afghanistan. “What did I miss?”

Taryn filled her in. Jess smiled and shook her head. “It sounds like
Animal House
moved in next door.”

“Geez, I hope not,” Taryn said. “I'm too old for drunken keg parties.”

“No one is that old,” Jess said. She ran her hand through her messy and cropped brown hair. The cut was something new for her; edgy and fun. Taryn liked it. Jess had the face to pull off short hair.

Irving didn't prefer it. He wanted his women PIs to have long hair in memory of a 70s TV show.

“Irving is too old,” Summer quipped.

“Irving was born at the same time as dirt,” Jess said.

Taryn jumped in, “He's so old that his mother put mastodon milk in his bottles.”

“I heard that!” Irving said from the hallway. The trio spun around and flushed guiltily, as Gretchen wheeled him past the open door. “For your information, it was saber-tooth tiger milk. Get your facts straight, young'uns.”

The three laughed. Jess stood. “I have to go. I have a poacher to catch.”

Once Summer and Taryn were alone again, they got to work.

“Have you found anything new about Teddy?” Taryn said.

“No, but I did contact three women he dated recently, before marrying his latest wife.” She clicked three Match-Mate profiles up on the screen. Two were in their sixties and one was thirty-seven. “They all thought he was charming at first. It was his interest in their financial status that chased them off.”

“Smart ladies.”

“The youngest one said he bragged about owning a property in Vail, Colorado, but I found nothing to prove that. She thought he was too old for her anyway and cut him loose. He'd told her he was forty-five. She didn't buy that, either.”

“He probably lied to look better in her eyes, once she realized he wasn't forty-five,” Taryn said. “How did he think he could pass for that young?”

“I honestly think some people use fake information and pictures, hoping that their personalities will overcome the fibs once they're face to face with a date,” Summer said. “They don't get that attraction can't be forced, and that there is someone out there for every size, age, and interest. So be honest.”

“You're right. I suspect it seldom works out for the one lying.”

Gretchen popped her head in. “Mr. Silva is here for you.”

“Send him back,” Summer said before Taryn could stand. At her frown, Summer shrugged. “What? I hear he's cute.”

“He is cute,” Gretchen said, and she and her fornicating turkeys left.

“I thought you were off men?” Taryn didn't know why she didn't want Rick to meet Summer. Oh, right. Every man turned into a slobbering idiot around her friend.

“It doesn't mean I can't look,” Summer said.

Just this once, Taryn didn't want to be relegated to second place. Selfish, she knew, since she didn't want him for herself.

It wasn't that she resented Summer for what God gave her. And Summer would never go after anyone Taryn or Jess liked. But it was hard not to feel invisible when her friend was in a room.

And Rick would be no different than any other guy. Why that irked her had no explanation.

He appeared in the doorway.

Summer sighed.

Taryn scowled.

“You must be Rick Silva.” Summer unfolded herself from her chair and stood to her full five foot eight. She wore a form-fitting blue sweater and cream slacks that, though modest, hugged every perfect curve. A ray of heavenly light beamed down and surrounded her blond head in a shimmering unearthly glow as she walked across the room to shake Rick's hand. “I'm Summer.”

“Nice to meet you, Summer.”

Okay, the glow came from bright fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling. Still, the effect was the same. Rick was grinning and Summer had on her brightest smile.

Taryn hoped Summer and Rick's wedding registry would contain affordable gifts and that her bridesmaid's dress wouldn't be hideous. At the same time, she knew she was being silly. And worse . . . jealous.

Rick's amused eyes darted her way. Her stomach tingled. “Taryn's told me all about you.”

She'd done nothing of the sort. He'd obviously seen her reaction to his meeting Summer and was ruffling her up.

“I hope we can find Brinkman for you,” Summer was saying as Taryn yanked her eyes away from him and returned her attention to Summer. “This man is a menace to society.”

Summer's sweet drawl was doing its job. Rick turned back to her and was transfixed. At least that's how Taryn saw it. His eyes were locked onto her friend's face and he wore the dopey expression of love at first sight.

If anything good was to come of the pair's mutual attraction, it had snapped Taryn out of her growing crush and proved to her that Rick was only a client and nothing more. She was happy she'd gone no further than a couple of brief, though still yummy, kisses. They'd get through this case and he'd move on. That's the way it should be.

Rick leaned back against the doorframe, as Summer reclaimed her chair. “How is your arm, Special Agent Silva?”

He rotated the injured limb, exposing the bottom ridge of the taped pad. His bicep bunched beneath the sleeve of his dark blue tee and he winked at Taryn. “As good at new. Taryn does an excellent field dressing.”

Summer glanced curiously between them. Taryn shot her a frown. Reading her friend, Summer moved on. “Taryn told me about the events of last night. What is your take on the shooting?”

Rick crossed his arms. “After Taryn dropped me off, I called an acquaintance who got me in touch with a local police detective. The police were already at the storage facility when I reached the officer on his cell and got permission to head over. Neighbors had called in the shots. I met the detective over there. He wasn't happy that we'd jumped the fence or broken into the unit, but I talked him down by promising I'd pay for any damages.”

Taryn stewed. “And you didn't call me?”

“I didn't think we both needed to be there. The police found nothing other than spent shell casings to link to the shooter.” He paused. “The car's VIN had been removed, so there was nothing new to learn from the Pinto.”

If he thought to calm her temper, he failed. “You were the one who wanted to be a team. You came to me for help. Now you're cutting me out of the investigation?”

“I'm not cutting you out.” Rick paused and took a deep breath. “You looked half dead on your feet last night. I thought one of us should get some sleep. Had they found something, I would have called. Right now, they're testing the shells and car for fingerprints. That's all.”

What he said made sense. She'd been so exhausted that she hadn't thought about contacting the police. And that didn't make her feel any better. She didn't want to look like a second-rate PI in his eyes.

Rick must have read her mind. “I'm sorry. We don't even know if the shooters have anything to do with the case. They were more likely just overzealous burglars.”

True. Taryn felt a little better with that reasoning. “What are the odds that someone connected to Brinkman, or Brinkman himself, showed up at the moment we were digging through his car?”

“A zillion to one,” Summer offered.

“Still, if he was connected, then this changes the direction of the case.” Taryn did a quick mental run-down of the clues. “We haven't had any luck tracking Brinkman the old-fashioned way and Summer hasn't gotten any current hits on his aliases.” She leaned forward in her chair. “I think it's time to flush the bastard out online.”

S
ummer clapped her hands. “Let's do this.” She spun in her chair and reached for her keyboard. Within seconds, she was on the Match-Mate site and clicking into the “Setting Up Your Profile” page. “We'll set you up and use the restaurants he used on his other three dates for meet-ups. I have a list.”

“Slow down,” Rick said, holding up his open hands. “Are you sure you're ready for this?” he asked Taryn. “We can still investigate more locally, without opening this can of worms.”

Taryn bit the inside of her cheek.

“Once you put yourself online, you're setting yourself up for a lot of crazy,” he added. “Every Tom, Dick, and Psycho will want to date you. We'll spend days, weeks, just slogging through the Catfishes. And Brinkman might not even show.”

“You've been watching the show,” Taryn said.

“A couple of episodes. Even though Brinkman is another level of con,
Catfish
does come across some unstable people. Do you want to open up your life to that?”

“What alternative do we have?” she said. “The police have our only evidence, and apparently the car wasn't leading us anywhere, anyway. Brinkman clearly hadn't been near the storage unit for quite some time. Jane Clark and the other wives had nothing current to offer, and it looks like our felon has gone underground.”

She did have a point. He rubbed his neck and conceded to her argument. “Hell. How hard should it be to find one aging con man?”

Summer, without turning from the screen, piped in, “Very hard. Despite his Match-Mate presence, he's not online. No Facebook, no Instagram, no nothing with any of his aliases. I've set up a program to track his old Social Security number and aliases, if he uses them again, but otherwise I'm all out of leads.”

Although Rick knew that eventually Brinkman would make a mistake and get caught, patience wasn't his best asset.

“Most of his old crimes have already elapsed their statute of limitations,” Taryn said. “We may only get a few of these to court, including your mother's. If Brinkman's retired from conning and is sitting on the beach somewhere with Honey, he may never resurface. If he isn't retired, he'll be back online once he wipes out her assets.”

“Don't forget the shooting,” Summer said.

“That may be unconnected,” Rick responded.

“Maybe,” Summer said. “Maybe not.”

He didn't like Summer's words. He didn't like his sense that the shooting was connected to the case and that they were missing a huge chunk of clues. And he didn't like putting Taryn in any sort of danger. However, if he didn't agree to putting her profile on Match-Mate, then she'd just do it anyway without him.

“Do it,” he said.

With a nod and smiles from Taryn and Summer, they stepped off the cliff and into online dating.

“Name?” Summer said.

“Terry Jones,” Rick said.

“Why?” Taryn asked.

“She was the girl who broke my heart in second grade.”

Amused, Taryn turned to meet his eyes. “And you still aren't over her? You may need therapy.”

If Summer weren't present, he'd show her how far he was over Terry Jones. He may have agreed last night to keeping things professional, but his body wasn't on board. He wanted Taryn badly. If he could find a way around her objections, he'd like to show her that all men weren't like her ass of an ex. Naked.

Taryn's eyes widened. She must have seen something in his expression, or the wolfish smile on his face, that led her to believe he was thinking naughty things about her. She reddened slightly and turned back to the screen.

“Age?”

“Twenty-five.”

“That's too young,” Rick said. “Make it thirty-five.”

“She doesn't look thirty-five,” Summer said.

“Thirty?” Taryn asked.

“This won't work,” he grumbled. “Taryn is too young to have a big bank account and she isn't a widow or divorced. Brinkman won't take the bait.”

“I'll put in forty and we'll fudge her picture.” Summer clicked away. “Profession?”

“Pediatrician,” Taryn said. “
Widowed
pediatrician.”

At Rick's look she shrugged. “What? It's my profile. I can be what I want. I'll sound compassionate.”

“A doctor would be too smart to fall for a con,” he said.

“That's where you're wrong,” Taryn said. “Women and men will overlook a lot of alarm bells for a shot at love. Besides, a widow is vulnerable and her doctor income will be a draw for Brinkman.”

“She's right,” Summer said. She added that. “Hobbies or interests?”

“Strolls on the beach, wine, fireplaces, and travel.”

Rick cocked up a brow.

Taryn frowned. “Do you think scuba diving with sharks, skydiving, and murder mysteries will hook a guy like Brinkman? I thought not. Dr. Terry is boring and lonely and looking for a man to spice up her life.”

Skydiving? Sharks?

Was it wrong that in this moment he wanted to drag her off into the nearest broom closet and kiss the hell out of her? And maybe more?

Was there anything about her he didn't find sexy?

Summer finished up the profile and reached for her phone. “Okay, stand back against the wall and smile.”

“The wall is white.” Taryn stood. “Won't that be sort of boring?”

“I thought you wanted to be boring?”

“Not enough to induce a catatonic state in my dates,” Taryn said. “I have an idea. Follow me.”

The three of them walked down the hallway to Irving's office. His door was open. He was lining up a golf ball with a putting thingy. His orange and red plaid pants and orange shirt could cause spontaneous brain seizures in even the heathiest human.

Rick's left eye twitched.

“I thought the doctor wanted you off your feet?” Taryn scolded. “A fractured foot takes time to heal.”

“He fell into a sand trap two weeks ago,” Summer whispered to Rick.

“What does the doctor know?” Irving made the putt. “I survived a plane crash over the South Pacific in '67. Broke seventeen bones in the landing and was almost eaten by cannibals, before swimming thirty miles to safety. I can survive one broken foot.”

“You were also not one hundred and twenty-seven years old then,” Taryn scolded. “You should be off your feet.”

Irving grinned. “Someday you'll be my age and you'll regret calling me old, young lady. And I'll do as I please, so go mother someone else.”

Despite his scolding, Rick heard no anger in his tone. In fact, he was looking at Taryn with fatherly affection. She was glaring back. It was Taryn who looked away first.

“Fine, but if your foot falls off, don't expect me to bandage your stump.”

Chuckling, Irving nodded. “Deal.”

A moment later, Irving noticed Rick, hobbled over on his walking boot, and stretched out his hand. “You must be a new client?”

“Rick Silva, sir. Nice to meet you.”

“Silva?” The old man nodded. “You are working the sweetheart con with Taryn?”

“I am.” They released hands.

Irving leaned in and said in a stage whisper, “You need to watch out for that one. If she doesn't kill you with her driving, she'll nag you to death about your health.”

“Hey!”

“She is a driving menace,” Rick agreed. “You must spend a fortune paying insurance for her car.”

The other man nodded again. “Thankfully, I love her like a daughter, so I deduct her road costs on my taxes, as the price of doing business. Otherwise she'd be sorting mail in the basement.”

Both men turned to find Taryn scowling and Summer snickering behind her hand. They chuckled.

“Neither one of you is funny,” Taryn said. “Come, Summer. Let's get that picture and get out of here before Laurel and Hardy break into their ‘Who's on First' routine.”

She stalked over to a large painting of the Great Wall of China and stood in front of it. While Summer took several pictures, Irving stepped close to Rick and his voice dropped.

“Taryn is a great girl who's had some bad breaks,” Irving said. “She needs some fun in her life and I can sense that she likes you. But if you hurt her, I'll split your skull with my nine iron and dump you in the swamp behind this building.”

Rick suspected the senior would have one hell of an aim. They locked eyes and came to a silent understanding.

“Taryn and I are business associates. Nothing more.”

The grin showed perfect teeth. “You keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep better, Mr. Silva.”

With that, the man winked and crossed back over to retrieve his golf ball.

* * *

“Are you ready to go?”

Rick's voice snapped Taryn back to the present. Summer was looking at her oddly and he had a half-smile on his face.

She didn't care for his expression. He looked like a storefront psychic wearing a cheap turban he'd bought online and waving his hands over a crystal ball, dreaming of bilking gullible clients out of their life savings. Only Rick was short one turban and one crystal ball.

But he certainly seemed to read her mind quite proficiently.

They'd just finished uploading the final file to Match-Mate. Using a photo altering program, Summer had made Taryn look fifteen years older. Rick had been leaning over Summer while they'd done a few last-minute tweaks and Taryn couldn't help but notice, again, how great they looked together.

They'd have stunning children.

After the teasing she'd endured from Rick and Irving, and a good ten minutes of reflection while watching the profile go up, she realized the truth. She had too many quirks to make someone like Rick an ideal match. Even in a temporary relationship. Rick would do far better with a sweetheart like Summer.

Heck, she hadn't kept her husband happy and she had been legally bound to him. This further proved her theory. She wasn't good at relationships. So why bother starting something new?

“I'm ready.” She stood and walked out. Her head pounded and she couldn't stop thinking about Rick kissing Summer the way he'd kissed her. Rick was probably thinking the same thing. Summer was every man's fantasy.

Taryn made it to the front door before he moved ahead of her and held open the door. They rode down the elevator in silence. They arrived at the car before he spoke again.

“You didn't tell me your friend was beautiful.”

A prick of irritation slid up her spine. “So?”

“Do you think she'd go out with me? I'm free tomorrow night for drinks and . . . whatever.”

The camel's back broke.

Taryn spun on a booted foot, ready to give him all the reasons why she was not a matchmaker, how Summer had better taste in men and would never go out with him, and why she didn't care what he did, when the look on his face stopped her.

Gray eyes danced with amusement.

He was messing with her. It seemed to be his game of choice, and she'd swallowed the bait like a starving carp taking a tasty worm on a hook. He knew she was jealous and used it to tease her.

Letting out an explosive breath, she wanted to Mace him. Too bad the can was in her bag. “You are one aggravating man, you know that?”

“So I've been told. And that's why you like me.”

She pulled out her keys. “I don't like you, not even a little bit. I'd rather befriend Jack the Ripper than call you anything more than a temporary annoyance.”

Rick caught her stare and his eyes narrowed. He stepped toward her, backing her up against the car. The sun-heated metal shimmered through her thin top and seared her skin. However, it was the heat in his eyes that burned the most. She hungered for his kisses, wanted him to kiss her again.

Taryn's breath caught and she tried to redirect her thoughts. The man knew how to both entice and intimidate her, and she didn't like that feeling. “Step back. I have Mace.

“I don't think you want to Mace me.” He tipped his head and murmured in her ear, “I think you want to kiss me.”

“You're crazy,” she said, breathless, as he pulled back to let his attention linger on her mouth and remained close with a brush of warm breath on her lips. Shivers tingled through her. If she didn't get out of this ASAP, she'd lose all control.

Using a defensive maneuver that would make a Navy SEAL proud, Taryn avoided contact with his lips. She ducked, sidestepped, spun, and managed to get several feet away before he realized he'd lost the opportunity to kiss her and try again.

Chuckling, he straightened and turned. “You are one piece of work, Taryn Hall.”

“Thank you. Now get back to work or I
will
Mace you.”