Trust Me on This (4 page)

She took it. "Dennie Banks." She looked in his eyes and saw nothing but blank affability.
You're up to something, sonny
, she thought, but all she said was, "I'll meet you here at seven, Alec Prentice."

"All right, Dennie Banks." Alec ducked his head again, doofus style. "You want dinner in the restaurant or in my room?"

"The restaurant," Dennie said. "You're not that ugly."

She dropped his hand and walked out of the bar while Alec watched.

She did not walk funny.

"That's the worst pickup line I've ever heard," the little bartender said.

"Hey, it got me dinner with her," Alec said.

"Yes, but why?"

"That is the question," Alec said.

Unfortunately, he knew the answer. He sighed, and went to get ready for his date with the most arresting and arrestible woman he'd ever met.

"She's in it with him," Alec told Harry on the phone fifteen minutes later, trying not to gloat that he'd been right again and feeling vaguely depressed that he was.

"You found out already?"

"I tried to pick her up but it was no go until I mentioned my aunt, whom she's already been checking out. Once she heard about Aunt Vic, she couldn't wait to date me. She's working for Bond."

"Well, stay with her," Harry said. "I'll be there in a couple of hours. You sure your aunt will play along?"

"My aunt will play anything." Alec dismissed Victoria to think about Dennie Banks again. "You know, I really am disappointed in this Banks woman. Up close, she looks like a class act."

"You're getting too damn old to be that dumb," Harry said.

"Thank you, Harry," Alec said. "I needed that. Now tell me I'm ugly."

"You're ugly," Harry said. "Watch her."

Brian Bond studied his reflection in the mirror and nodded. He still had it, Sheree's desertion notwithstanding. The looks, the charm, the shy, boyish killer smile. They all said, "Trust me on this," and people did.

Certainly no woman could resist once he set his sights on her.

And his sights were on the brunette. He'd seen her again, coming out of the bar that afternoon. A drinker. That was good. It'd make her easy to find. She'd be back in the bar again, he'd pour a few drinks down her, and pow. Another Bond triumph.

He smiled at his reflection and headed for the elevator to sell real estate and fake honesty before he sold the brunette on a night in his room.

When the brass elevator doors opened at the nineteenth floor, Alec stood face-to-face with a white-haired woman dressed in navy silk and gold braid. She beamed at him as she stepped in. "Darling!"

"Good. I was coming to talk to you." Alec leaned over and kissed her cheek, smiling because she was so cute and he was so glad to see her. "Nice getup, Aunt Vic. Planning on invading something?"

She laughed and saluted him as the elevator doors closed. "The military look is very stylish now. God knows why. Probably nostalgia for the Reagan years. But it's also wonderfully flattering. It's amazing how distracting gold braid can be." She frowned at the red velvet-covered elevator walls. "And it's not easy to stand out in this place. Who was their decorator, that Biddle Barrows woman?"

"I like it," Alec said.

"With your libido, you would," Victoria said. "What did you do all afternoon? Seduce the natives?"

"Waited for you, of course," Alec lied.

"Right." Victoria narrowed her eyes. "I left a message for you to meet me in the Ivy Room for lunch, but you didn't. What are you up to? Are you doing something for that secret agency of yours?"

"Shhhh," Alec said to the empty elevator.

"And you're awfully dressed up since you didn't know you'd run into me." His aunt looked at him in disgust. "You've picked up a blonde and asked her out to dinner, haven't you?"

"A brunette. Listen, I need—"

The elevator doors opened, and Victoria sailed out. "Don't worry," she said tartly. "I won't cramp your style."

Alec followed her with exasperated affection. "You never do. Most of the time I cramp yours."

Victoria sniffed. "Nobody cramps my style."

Alec caught up with her. "That's why I worry. You're running around with my last name, diving into fountains. Why didn't you keep your married name?"

"Why should I? I didn't keep my husband."

Alec tried to look stern. "It's time. you settled down."

"Me?" Victoria snorted. "What about you?"

"Why should I settle down? I'm having a great time."

"That's your problem. You always have a great time." Victoria surveyed him critically. "You need some trauma in your life."

"Hey," Alec said. "I thought you loved me."

"I do," Victoria said over her shoulder as she headed for the restaurant. "But I worry about you. Things come too easily for you. Women, work, it all just fells into your lap."

"I work very hard at what I do. Which reminds me—"

Victoria turned in the middle of the lobby and nailed him with her eyes. "Have you ever failed? At anything?"

"Of course, I haven't failed." Alec was outraged. "I just told you—"

"If you haven't failed, you're not trying hard enough."

Alec glared at her. "Who told you this garbage?"

"A friend of mine. Janice Meredith."

"Meredith." Alec frowned. "The feminist whatsit. Marriage expert, right?"

"Yes." Victoria caught his sleeve and dragged him over to the row of gilt chairs he'd seen Dennie Banks use to con Trella that afternoon. "Sit down," she said and pushed him onto a chair as she sat down beside him. "Janice is going through a terrible time right now—I can't tell you why—but she's fine. And do you know why?"

Alec tried to be patient. "No, why?"

Victoria smacked his shoulder. "Pay attention and stop patronizing me. This is important. Janice says it's better to have taken a chance and tried, than never to have tried at all. If you haven't failed, you're only doing the easy things. A failure now and then tells you you're stretching yourself."

"So you want me to stretch myself and fail." Alec patted his aunt's hand. "No, thanks. Listen, I need you—"

"How long did it take you to get this woman to agree to dinner?"

"What?"

"This blonde you're having dinner with."

"Brunette."

"How long from the time you met her to the time she said yes?"

"About five minutes."

Victoria shook her head. "See, you're going for the easy victory."

"That's a terrible thing to say about a woman you've never met." Alec grinned at her. "And I hope to hell you're right."

"You know if you weren't so charming, you'd be a rat," Victoria said. "I'll be very relieved when you settle down."

"Is this lecture over yet?"

"Yes. Although you probably need a longer one."

"You have no idea what I need," Alec said. "For all you know, I'm vulnerable and lonely."

"Ha."

"Fine. Be that way. Now pay attention. I need a favor."

Victoria smiled at him fondly. "Anything, darling."

Alec smiled back in spite of himself. "Did I mention I've missed you?"

"Oh, I've missed you, too, darling." Victoria patted his knee. "That's why I sent you the invitation. I'm going to fix your life this weekend."

"No, you're not," Alec said. "Drop that idea entirely and listen. I need you to buy some real estate from a con man. And then I will arrest him."

"A con man?" Victoria frowned. "I thought you were on vacation."

"I am," Alec said. "This is a freebie. Pure luck. My boss is flying in late tonight to talk to both of us. Can we meet you at eleven in your room?"

"Of course," Victoria said. "It sounds like fun."

"Well, it's not." Alec scowled at her. "This is serious work."

"This is what you do for a living?"

"Yes."

She shrugged. "Then how serious can it be?"

Alec stood. "On that note, I will leave you for my date. Would you like to join us for dinner?" he added politely, knowing Victoria would never do anything that dumb.

"I'd love to," she said, standing, too, and Alec started. "But I have a date of my own." Alec glared at her, and Victoria grinned back unfazed. "That'll teach you to make invitations you don't mean." Her eyes focused over Alec's left shoulder, and when he turned to see, she waved to a distinguished graying man who was smiling at her. "There's my date. I'm hoping he's not going to be the stuffed shirt I'm pretty sure he's going to be."

"Wait" Alec caught her arm as she moved past him. "I need—"

Victoria waved her hand at him. "Go amuse your blonde. And call me when your boss gets in."

"Brunette," Alec said in exasperation, but he let her go and watched her move toward the stuffed shirt who beamed his appreciation. "Bad choice, Aunt Vic," he said to himself, and then stopped. The stuffed shirt looked like prime Bond material. Maybe he should encourage Victoria to cultivate a taste for the overstuffed this weekend.

Victoria and her date went into the restaurant, and Alec checked his watch and headed for the bar. Enough about Victoria's dating problems; he was late to meet a beautiful crook.

Dennie walked into the bar at seven and ordered a daiquiri. The bartender slid the frosted glass in front of her, and she opened her purse.

"Let me get that," someone beside her said, and she turned to see the g-dropping farm boy from the hotel door that afternoon, smiling at her shyly.

"Brian Bondman." He offered her his hand. "We ran into each other this morning."

He ducked his head and smiled again, and Dennie wondered why she'd suddenly begun attracting men with weak necks. All this ducking and peering up at her. There was enough aw shucks in this hotel to gag a maggot. Still, he was being nice, so Dennie shook his hand with tepid enthusiasm, but when he put some bills on the bar, she slid them back to him.

"I prefer to pay for my own drink, thank you."

"Ah, you're independent." He shook his head at her apologetically. "Well, then…" He leaned closer, and she could see the deep blue of his eyes. He was probably doing that because he thought women loved deep blue eyes. He should have tried it on another woman. Dennie could spot colored contacts a mile away. He smiled at her. "How about letting me pay for dinner?"

Someone tapped on Bondman's shoulder, and Dennie turned to see her date for the evening.
John-Bay meets Opie
, she thought.
Get me out of here
.

"That's not a bad line, but I used it earlier," Alec told him. "Sorry."

Bondman stopped smiling for an instant, and Dennie thought there might be a fight. Clash of the Nerds. She opened her mouth to head them off but then Alec smiled at Bondman like a half-wit, and Bondman smiled back, much the same smile, and said, "No problem. Maybe my timing will get better later."

"Oh, it's bound to get better," Alec said, clapping Bondman on the back. "No hard feelings, right?" He looked past Bondman and smiled at Dennie. "You look super," he told her. "Let's go have dinner so I can show you off."

Dennie looked at them both. It was a good time to be giving up men if this was what the planet had to offer. If it wasn't for needing Alec's aunt to convince Janice Meredith—

Alec looked her up and down. "Great dress," he said. "Gosh."

It was going to be a long evening. She held out her hand. "Lead on, Macduff."

"Actually, that's 'lay on.' " Alec took her hand and helped her off the bar stool. "It's what Macbeth said right before he lost his head."

"Well, don't count on it happening again." Dennie pulled him toward the door and away from Brian Bondman. "I'm hungry, but I'm not about to lose my head."

Bond watched them go. The guy in the suit had to be one of those college professors. Talking like a hayseed and quoting
Macbeth
. Fine. He'd take him for every cent he had. And then he'd take the woman away from him too. He turned back to the bar and brooded on his plans for revenge and profit while he drank Dennie's daiquiri.

"So where did you learn
Macbeth}"
Dennie asked Alec when they'd been seated in the restaurant on gilt chairs, separated from each other by three quarters of a yard of virgin linen and an ornate brass candleholder covered with brass
ivy
. "Classic comics?"

"My aunt Vic is a British lit professor." Alec moved the candleholder to one side. He absentmindedly turned it upside down to look at the bottom of the holder, and as Dennie said, "No!" the candle fell out and rolled to the edge of the table, still burning. He lunged to get it and knocked over his water glass as Dennie caught the candle. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

Dennie took the holder from him and replaced the candle before she set it to one side. She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. That whole move had seemed, well, false somehow. "Your aunt," she prompted him as she mopped up the water with her napkin.

"Uh, right. My aunt." Alec furrowed his brow as he concentrated. "She made my brother and me each pick a play from Shakespeare one summer in exchange for hauling us to a cottage on Lake Michigan. My brother, the history nut, grabbed
Henry V
. I asked her if there was anything with a lot of killing and—"

"She gave you
Macbeth
."

"Actually she gave me a choice between
Hamlet
and
Macbeth
."

Dennie held up her hand. "Don't tell me. Let me guess. You counted the pages."

"Yep." Alec grinned. "My aunt didn't raise no dummies."

Dennie began to revise her opinion of him. He was good-looking if you liked dumb grins and boyish enthusiasm. And there was something else there, something about that flash she'd seen in his eyes in the bar. And the whole bit with the candle wasn't right. He moved with too much grace to be that clumsy. He was up to something, and he definitely would bear watching. But the most important thing was that he was talking about his aunt without any prompting from her. She felt very warm toward him for that, so she smiled at him. "So did it work? Did you like
Macbeth
?"

"Yep," Alec said. "It was great. In fact, my aunt and I are still arguing about the third murderer. Nobody knows who it was."

"Sure they do." Dennie sipped her water. "It was Macduff."

Alec shook his head. "It couldn't be. Macduff was one of the good guys. Why would he kill Banquo?"

"He didn't," Dennie said patiently. "He put out the light so Banquo's son could escape. It's obvious."

"What is obvious is that it was Lady Macbeth," Alec said. "End of question."

Dennie shook her head in disgust. "Are you out of your mind? It couldn't have been Lady Macbeth. She was back at the castle throwing a party. Did you actually read this play?" She glared at him, so caught up in the conversation that she forgot to be charming, and he gaped at her.

Alec took a minute to answer her because she was having an unexpected effect on him. Nothing he couldn't handle, but still… She had lightning in her eyes, and an incredibly lush mouth, and she was bright, very bright. It was hard to believe that she was working with Bond. If he hadn't seen them together twice now… Alec tried to concentrate on the argument to lull her into a false sense of security, but her eyes kept distracting him. "How come you know
Macbeth
so well?"

Dennie narrowed her eyes. "I did my senior honors thesis on it. Now stop changing the subject. How could Lady Macbeth possibly be the third murderer?"

Alec tried to look dumber than usual. "She could have snuck out before the party. There was time."

"How?" Dennie shook her head at him, clearly amazed. "She was Queen of Scotland, and it was a state banquet. It's not like they were having the Macduffs over for hot dogs. She could not have
sn
uck out and stabbed Banquo. Where is your mind?"

"Hey." Alec was stung by her criticism even while he knew he was being unreasonable. Of course, she thought he was dumb. He was acting dumb. Still… "Lady Macbeth masterminded the whole thing."

"She did not. She didn't even know he was doing it. It's in the play that he doesn't tell her until afterward."

"Ha," Alec said. "She pretended not to know."

Dennie studied him. "Is it indicative of some deep-seated hostility toward women that you are willing to frame her for a crime she didn't commit? Or are you really this dumb?"

"Dumb?" Alec bristled again. "Hell, she'd already killed Duncan."

"No, she didn't. Macbeth killed Duncan."

"Yeah, but he wouldn't have if she hadn't egged him on. That woman was a bitch."

Dennie leaned back and folded her arms. "That's what all insecure men call powerful women."

Alec leaned back and folded his arms. "Do not tell me you are a feminist."

"Of course I'm a feminist, you moron. What did you think I was?"

"I was hoping you were a bimbo. Unfortunately, I was wrong."

Dennie's laugh startled him. "I like you." She leaned forward and picked up a breadstick. "Your grasp of
Macbeth
is pathetic, but you may have other possibilities. And you're not nearly as dumb as you're pretending to be. What is all that about anyway?" She crunched into the stick, her even white teeth neatly severing the bread.

"All what?" Alec asked, caught flat-footed, and then the waiter brought the menus.

"Would you like to see the wine list, sir?"

"Sure." Alec took the wine list from him with gratitude. He looked across the top of the folder at Dennie. "Any preferences?"

"Nope," Dennie said. "Stun me with your expertise."

Alec snapped the wine list back to the waiter. "Something in a red."

"I'm stunned," Dennie said.

The waiter looked pained. "Very good, sir."

"Do you know that blond guy at the bar very well?" Alec asked her when the waiter was gone.

"Not at all." Dennie studied her menu. "What's good to eat here?"

"I hear everything is good here." Alec stared at her while she considered the menu. She was too smart to be working for Bond. Maybe he was working for her. That was a depressing thought. It was going to take a lot of work to get the truth out of her. He might even have to have sex with her to get it. That was not a depressing thought.

The waiter came back with the wine.

Alec touched his glass to hers and looked deep into her eyes, smiling his best vulnerable-puppy smile. "To the start of something wonderful."

"Probably not," Dennie said, and drank.

Alec stopped his glass halfway to his mouth. "Probably not?"

Dennie nodded. "I'm giving up guys like you to concentrate on my career. That's why I need to meet your aunt. I should probably have told you that earlier. Should we go dutch on dinner?"

Alec looked confused. It was a look he was quite good at faking, but talking with Dennie made it even easier than usual. "Uh, no, I have plenty of money. What do you mean, guys like me?"

Dennie sipped her wine. "You know. Sophisticated. Charming. Good with wine lists. What is it that you do that gets you plenty of money?"

"Investments." That should interest her. Alec frowned at her, knowing he should concentrate on the investments part but wanting to pursue other things. "So why are you giving me up if I'm all of that?"

"Because right now I'm at a turning point in my career. I have to give it everything I've got." Dennie dismissed him with her hand. "I can't fritter away my time on dinner and sex with guys like you. What kind of investments?"

"Land." Alec meant to go on waxing eloquent about his big investment habits, but instead he said, "And you couldn't have had this realization later in the week? My timing has reached an all-time low."

"I'd feel bad about this, but obviously you're not going to suffer." Dennie surveyed him critically. "You're one of those boyishly good-looking types. You probably never suffer. Actually, a little suffering might do you good."

Alec scowled at her. "Did my aunt put you up to this?"

Dennie looked interested. "No. Let's talk about your aunt. She's out to get you? Why?"

The waiter interrupted them.

"Separate checks, please," Dennie said.

"Ignore her," Alec said. "She's having an independent fit. With any luck, it will go away."

"No chance," Dennie said. "But if it bothers you that much, I'll let you pay for dinner."

"Would you care to order?" the waiter asked, confused but determined.

Dennie studied the menu. "You're in trouble. I'm starving."

Alec tried to recapture his doofus persona. "Good. I love a woman who eats hearty."

"Well, then…" She smiled up at the waiter. "Prime rib, very rare. Asparagus. Cheddar cheese baked potato. Ranch dressing on the salad."

"Same for me," Alec said, snapping his menu closed, and the waiter rolled his eyes and left. "Now about sex—"

"Tell me about your aunt." Dennie bit into her breadstick again, and he watched her mouth move and lost his place in the conversation. "Why does she hate you?"

"My aunt?" Alec looked away from her mouth so he could think. "She doesn't hate me. She adores me. She just thinks I need more trauma in my life."

Dennie stopped chewing. "Trauma?"

Alec picked up a breadstick of his own. "Things come easy for me. Always have." He scowled at her. "Until you. She thinks it would be good if I failed for once."

"She's right," Dennie said. "She's absolutely right. That's why I'm getting serious about my career."

"So I can have trauma?"

"No. So
I
can. I'm like you. Everything's always been easy for me. But I think that's because I haven't tried anything tough, you know? And then I overheard Janice Meredith in the restaurant this afternoon. She said that if you're not failing every now and then, you're not trying hard enough. And I've never failed."

Alec snapped his breadstick in half. "I have a score to settle with Janice Meredith."

Dennie leaned forward. "Do you know Janice Meredith?"

Alec looked down the neck of her dress. She was wearing a purple lace bra, and she was rounder than he'd imagined. "Don't move for a minute, will you?"

Dennie tapped him on the nose with her bread-stick. "Pay attention. Do… you… know… Janice… Meredith?"

"No," Alec said, enjoying the view. "But my aunt does. You know, Thursday is a notoriously bad day for making decisions. Maybe you ought to reconsider—"