Undercover Passion (6 page)

“The proverbial free lunch,” Daniel murmured.

“Shhh,” a large lady in a velour jumpsuit told him sternly.

“Sorry,” he said, nodding his apology and reminding himself to keep his opinions quiet. You never knew what a room full of diet-crazed folk might be pushed to if they heard the truth. His wide mouth twisted into something resembling a smile. Snake oil was snake oil, no matter how pretty the package it came in.

“You have the power inside you,” the voice from the front boomed, edged with a fine emotion now. “All you have to do is make the deci
sion. Make it in your heart. And once that decision is made, be proud of it. Be ready to tell the world.”

Abby was going down along the side of the room now and Daniel strained to see what she was doing. Ah. She was passing out those brochures she had been so sure would improve the image of the Healthy Living Clinic. He stepped to the side, placing himself right in her path, and when she looked up and saw him he expected her eyes to flash with anger, a continuation of the animosity they seemed to strike so easily between them. In fact, he was looking forward to it.

“Hi,” he said softly, not wanting to be shushed again. “Do I get one?”

She hesitated for another beat, her eyes wide as she gazed into his. She looked prettier than ever, her cheeks rosy with the intensity of the evening, her eyes sparkling in the artificial light. And suddenly, to his surprise, she smiled. Her smile was large and genuine, white teeth flashing, dimples twinkling.

“Of course,” she said, handing him one. And then she turned, starting down the next row.

He stood where he was, staring after her,
knocked silly. That smile had paralyzed him. He felt as if there was an anvil on his chest and suddenly realized he'd forgotten to breathe. Gulping in a quick hit of air, he got the lungs working again. But his gaze followed her up and down the aisles. He couldn't look away.

Wow. He'd never known a smile to make such a direct hit to his solar plexus before. And as he gathered his senses together again, he frowned fiercely, just to remind himself that he was a coldhearted cop. None of this touchy-feely nonsense for him. He was made of sterner stuff.

Wasn't he?

 

Things were going great. Abby was walking on air. Everyone was so excited about the new program Dr. Richie had developed. She was really glad she'd joined the clinic and was working to promote such a great entrée to a healthy lifestyle for so many people.

“You're an angel,” one woman told her, clutching her newly acquired jar of NoWait to her chest. “I thank you people with all my heart.”

“You're an excellent candidate for this sort of
treatment, Mrs. Halliday,” Abby told her earnestly, leaning against the counter set up at the back of the assembly room.

The place was crowded with people trying to get into the close circle around Dr. Richie, while those ready to go ahead and try the oil were lined up to see one of the two assistants signing clients to contracts. There were so many of these that Abby was handling the overflow.

“I know you'll do well. Now don't forget your schedule of appointments. We want to keep close watch on you, just to be sure your body is reacting as we expect it to. We don't take any chances with your health.”

Mrs. Halliday toddled off and Abby looked up expectantly at the next person in line. When she saw Daniel O'Callahan standing there, she really wasn't surprised. For reasons she wasn't sure she wanted to analyze, she'd been expecting him.

“Oh, it's you.”

Funny. She knew she'd been annoyed at him earlier. In fact, she vaguely remembered saying some pretty mean things to him. But right now she couldn't draw up any of that animosity, and
she didn't want to anyway. She almost felt as though he was an old friend at this point. Someone she treasured.

Maybe it was because she was feeling so good about this job that it was spilling over into the rest of her life. She had a new attitude, as they said in the song. Her outlook had changed for the better.

Or maybe it was that he seemed different, too. Not quite so hard. Not quite so imposing. In fact, he looked sort of approachable with his soft white shirt under a light sports coat. And definitely hunk-like.

“Yeah. It's me.” He didn't smile and his gaze was watchful. “The proverbial bad penny.” He gave her a quizzical look, as though he didn't know quite what to expect from her and was ready to accept the worst. “So how are you tonight?”

She smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy all over. For whatever reason she'd pretty much decided there was something she very much liked about this man. “I'm really, really feeling good.”

He nodded warily. “That's nice. You look like you're happy.”

Like a woman in love.

The words flashed into his head but he shut
them out. They were words he didn't want to think or hear. He glanced at Dr. Richie and then back at Abby, wondering how far things had gone with these two. The rumors about the doctor and his casual way with women were almost as rampant as the tales of his successes as a great promoter. All in all he was the sort of man a smart woman like Abby should stay away from. Unfortunately, it was so often that very sort of man they seemed to flock to. He'd seen it over and over, in every walk of life. The scam artists prospered in all levels of society.

“
You
look really handsome tonight,” she was saying, then she looked surprised, as though she hadn't realized she was prepared to say such a thing.

The remark startled him, too.

“No kidding?”

He frowned, studying her like a mystery that could be solved with enough effort. But maybe there was nothing strange here. Maybe she was playing him for a sucker. Maybe she was just setting him up for complete humiliation. Could be.

“So,” he said carefully, watching her closely. “If you're planning to hit me, do it where it won't
show, okay?” He raised an eyebrow, only half kidding. “That's the ticket. Leave no marks.”

“Hit you?” She emitted a sudden, gurgling laugh. “Why would I hit you?”

He shook his head. “I don't know. Because you…sort of hate my guts, I guess. I mean, that was the impression I had. Earlier.” He waited with a questioning look.

But she was waving away such a preposterous notion. “I don't hate anybody. That's just plain silly.”

“Uh-huh.” He was still searching her eyes for answers. “Call me silly, then, because I'm pretty sure I remember you warning me to stay away from you.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Yeah, here I are.”

Her unblinking gaze met his. “Why?”

“Why?” Yeah, why? It was a good question. “I guess because you smiled at me. Sort of threw me off my stride. I had to come over and find out what you're up to.”

She produced those dimples again, smiling broadly. “Right now I'm ‘up to' getting a drink.”

Rising from her chair, she motioned for the people behind him to go back to the other lines.
There weren't many people left, so she didn't feel very guilty about it.

“They have tea and juice in the reception room. Want to come with me?”

“Why not?”

He walked beside her, but he was watching the knots of people still hanging around, most hoping to get a chance to speak to Dr. Richie. They were like groupies, for Pete's sake. He wanted to tell them all to grow up. Or at least start using their brains. How could so many people fall for this stuff?

“Quite a turnout,” he mentioned as he stood back to let her pass through the doorway first.

“Yes, isn't it wonderful?” She was fairly shimmering with happiness.

“Great for the bottom line, I suppose,” he said cynically.

“No.” She turned and frowned at him, truly outraged by such a thought. “Great for the well-being of all who came. Great for the community. Surely you can see all the good that Dr. Richie is doing here.”

“Oh. Of course.” He managed to keep most of the sarcasm from leaking into his voice. “I've got a lot of respect for the guy.” Respect for his abil
ity to con a whole roomful of people—and one impressionable young woman.

But that answer seemed to satisfy her and she led him to the table where cups of punch were being poured. She finished off one cup and reached for another.

“I am so thirsty,” she said. “Promoting healthy living can be dry work.”

“No doubt.” He took a few sips from his own cup, watching her over the rim. Hard to believe he'd found her a bit ordinary at first. Right now she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. He was going to have to remind himself often that she was a source, not a potential date. And he wasn't sure his “self” was going to listen.

“So did you match me up with a counselor yet?”

“What?” She looked blank for a moment, then remembered. “Oh, that. No. To tell you the truth, I didn't think you would show up tonight.”

“Why not?”

She gave him a look. “Let's face it. You're not really the type. And it's obvious you don't have a weight problem. Tonight is all about the weight issue.”

“So it seems to be.”

She frowned, examining him in a new way. “So why
are
you here?”

He shrugged. He was used to supplying cover reasons for his activities. He did it all the time in his line of work. He'd been ready to do exactly that tonight. But now, face to face with Abby, he hated to add any more lies to the list he was working with.

“Just curious about what's going on,” he said evasively.

Her eyes narrowed and she scanned him with earnest intensity. “No,” she said. “That's not it at all.”

He blinked. “Okay. But listen, I really enjoyed the presentation and—”

“Don't try to change the subject.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “I'll bet I can guess what your game is. You're an investigative journalist, aren't you? Are you with the paper? Doing a piece on us?”

He hesitated. Was that a good thing? She didn't look outraged by it. Maybe because she thought of Dr. Richie as a savior of mankind and didn't realize an investigative journalist would be digging up dirt about the guy. If there was any dirt
in his background. Somehow he thought it was a good bet that there was.

She wouldn't like that. But she wouldn't like knowing he was with the Portland police department either. He was walking a line here. How much could he tell her?

“Well, not exactly,” he said hesitantly. “But you might say I'm investigating the whole healthy living movement and—”

Her smile was triumphant. “I should have guessed. Of course.” She leaned close and spoke in a hushed voice, as though realizing he had to maintain a cover in order to do his job. “You're doing a feature for a magazine, aren't you? What magazine is it?”

He grinned uncomfortably. “Look, I'm not at liberty to release the name of the organization I'm working for at this time. They're very strict about anonymity until we get the details nailed down.”

She smiled happily. “I'll bet I can guess who it is. I've done an interview with
City Style
magazine before. That's the one, isn't it?”

He smiled and shrugged, knowing he was as good as lying to her but unable to think of any way around it at the moment.

She came even closer so she could speak more
softly, smiling up at him with a new excitement, so close that he could feel the heat from her body, smell the scent from her hair.

“Come on. You can tell me. Ask for anything. What do you want?”

For just a second, he thought the room had tilted. To his shock, he realized being this close to Abby was making him dizzy. Dizzy. What was it about this woman that did these strange things to him?

But she wanted to know what she could do for him and he was about to tell her. He had to be careful. With his head buzzing like this, there was a risk he might be a bit too explicit. What if he told her that she turned him on and he would like to get to know her better and explore the possibilities? He would never say anything like that. But what if he did?

It never happened. The woman behind him took that moment to stumble and try to catch her balance by throwing her hand into the middle of his back, jostling him forward and sending the juice in his cup right down the front of his snowy white shirt in a large purple splash.

He guessed now he had the perfect reason to talk to her again.

“O
h!” Abby cried out.

“Hey,” Daniel said, sucking in his breath as the cold juice hit his skin.

“I'm so sorry.” The young woman who'd caused the accident apologized, but melted into the crowd as Abby tried to dab at the purple stain with napkins.

“That ain't gonna do it,” a short, dumpy-looking elderly man told them both, shaking his head over the misbehavior of the young.

Abby looked up, distracted but unfailingly po
lite. “Oh, hello. Wilbur Mason, isn't it? Nice to see you.”

“You better wash it fast or the shirt is ruined.”

“He's right,” Abby said despairingly.

Daniel looked down. He wanted to say it was no big deal. He wanted to laugh it off, say “forget it,” but the stain was huge and it was ugly. Not to mention, cold.

“Let's go,” Abby said impulsively, grabbing his hand. “I know what to do.”

Her hand was warm and smooth and he let her lead him out of the room. Hell, he would have let her lead him anywhere. It was becoming that kind of evening. The dim light, the music piped in along the hallway, the scent of gardenias coming in from the courtyard, the look of her, the feel of her hand—everything was conspiring to put him fully in the mood for…a little close contact. And when you came right down to it he didn't get in that sort of mood all that often. He was usually too busy working.

Hey, that was okay. He was working here. Being with Abby was all part of the deal.

They made their way down one hallway and around a corner.

“I get it,” he said cynically. “We're just going to walk around the building until the shirt dries on its own.”

She threw him a look and laughed, then pointed out a women's restroom.

“In here,” she said.

He balked, digging in his heels. “Whoa. I don't think so.”

“Don't worry.” She looked amused by his reticence. “This isn't the one we're using for the seminar. We're far enough away, I don't think anyone will come here. And just in case they do, I'll put out the ‘out of order' sign.”

Somehow that didn't give him a lot of comfort. “Haven't you got a men's room I could us?”

Her face scrunched up. “Sure, but I'd feel funny going in there with you.”

“No kidding. Now you know how I feel.”

“Oh, come on.” She tugged on his hand. “No one will know.”

“
I'll
know,” he grumbled, but he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and followed her inside. And looked around with eyebrows raised. “This is a restroom? It looks more like the lobby of a small hotel.”

“See? This is the best place, believe me.” She put the “out of order” sign on the door, just as she'd promised, then turned on the tap in one of the sinks.

“Take your shirt off,” she said, turning back to him. “Here, I'll hold your jacket.”

Slipping out of the sports coat, he handed it to her, then unbuttoned the shirt, took it off and tossed it into the water that was pooling in the sink.

“There you go,” he said, turning back to face her.

“Oh!”

She was standing very still, staring at his torso, and she made a little sound that caused his heart to skip a beat. For the first time in his life he was more than just vaguely glad he had the kind of build that might bring on a sound like that.

He glanced in the mirror, noticed with a bit of surprise how the light gleamed on the rounded muscles of his shoulders and the hard panels and ridges that made up his chest. Well, yeah, it was a damn good bod if he did say so himself.

Abby certainly seemed to think so. She was staring at him as though she'd never seen a man
without a shirt before. He had a moment of suspicion, wondering if she was putting on an act. She was a little old to be quite so seemingly naive and overwhelmed by a male body. As a cop, he suspected everyone and everything. But his distrust melted away quickly.

It wasn't that there was any proof that she was for real; it was more that he wanted her to be for real. So he was more than willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Here,” she said a bit shakily, handing him back his sports coat, blinking fast and swallowing hard. “You'd better put it on. You might get cold.”

He took it from her but hesitated, fascinated by the wide-eyed way she was staring at him. “You okay?”

She raised her gaze to meet his and nodded. “You are so gorgeous,” she said breathlessly. “Could I…?” She raised her hand. “Could I just touch you?” she asked softly.

That pounding he heard could have been someone trying to get in, but after a second or two he realized it was just his own heart beating out a primitive tattoo in his head as the blood began to race through his veins.

“Sure,” he said, glad to hear that his voice didn't sound as choked as he'd expected. “Go ahead.”

Her hand reached out tentatively, then settled just below where his collarbones met. It flattened out and began a slow trail down across his taut flesh.

“Oh!”

She made that sound again and he was instantly as aroused as he'd ever been. Grabbing her hand, he pressed it over his heart so she could feel the pulse. She closed her eyes, as if savoring it. He was beginning to lose rational thought. Another moment and he would be stepping over the boundary into pure animal instinct. Did he really want to do this?

Her face tilted up toward him and her lips parted and he decided kissing her was only going to be the first step. The sports coat fluttered to the floor and he kicked it out of the way, then pulled her up against him and lowered his head to take her mouth with his.

She opened to him as though she were giving him her soul, with no hesitation. She tasted sweet and hot and more exciting than the speed of a jet
plane. The room was pulsing now, pulsing and throbbing and spinning—egging them on, driving home a rhythm meant to entice them into an ancient dance. He was ready. He felt as though he'd been born ready. Was she?

If not, she was giving a good imitation. Her body was melting against his, soft and warm and wonderful. He pressed harder so that she could feel how much he wanted her and she didn't pull away. That only made him hotter. All he wanted was to have her. Nothing else mattered anymore.

At first the sound of water running was just a part of it all, the river of existence, the lifeblood of the moment. It took the extra-loud splashing sound to remind them both of what they'd come here for.

“Oh!” Abby cried, jerking away. “The water!”

Water was pouring over the edge of the sink and making a mess. Daniel scooped up his sports coat, just saving it from a hungry stream, and Abby turned off the faucet, then grabbed paper towels and began mopping up the puddles, laughing all the while at this ridiculous situation.

Daniel watched her. He was breathing hard, but he was slowly regaining his equilibrium. As he
did so, his brain came back online, and eventually, a thought came to him.

He was an idiot.

That thought began to hammer him insistently and he couldn't ignore it. What was he thinking? How could he be so dense?

Abby was mopping up the floor, then scrubbing at the stain in his shirt, and all the time she was chattering on and on about something. But he wasn't listening. His head was filled with a throbbing again, only not the good kind this time.

Logic, man. Where's that critical thinking you're so proud of?

Okay, you met Abby. She was a little put off by you from the beginning. She didn't exactly fall into your lap. You manipulated her a bit and she didn't like it. Then you got her in trouble with her boss and she really didn't like it. Finally, you spent a nice half hour trading insults with her in your grandmother's hospital room. You parted ways as you were thumbing noses at each other.

The next time you see her she's passing out brochures and tending to the needs of Dr. Richie. For some reason, she's suddenly your best friend. No, more than a friend. She's doing the eye thing,
and smiling. She's become a different person. And worse, she's suddenly practically begging for love.

This was all wrong. With his training and his finely honed instincts, he should have seen it right away.

Abby had gone to the dark side.

Mentally he slapped his own forehead. Of course. Why did he notice it so quickly on others but take so long with her?

Because you wanted her new attraction to be for real. Sucker.

He swore softly, but Abby didn't notice. She held up the shirt.

“I can't get it out. You'll have to try stain remover.”

“That's okay,” he said gruffly, working hard at coming back to earth and steeling himself against falling into the Abby trap again. He should have known what it was from the first. He should have guessed that it would only be a matter of time before she'd succumb to whatever it was that was infecting everyone who had anything to do with Dr. Richie and his clinic. The love attack.

“Thanks for trying.”

She turned and favored him with a glowing smile. Just a few minutes before, that smile would have had him panting like a puppy. But he was on to her now. He didn't even smile back. It was time he made another stab at being a professional.

“Tell me this, Abby,” he said, shrugging back into the sports coat. “Have you been drinking?” He might as well eliminate any normal reasons why she might be acting so out of character.

“Nope. I don't.”

He frowned. “You don't what?”

“Drink.” She dazzled him with her smile again. “I never touch alcohol.”

He nodded skeptically. “Right. Then you've been taking something.”

She stared at him blankly. “What are you getting at?”

He hooked his thumbs in his belt and stared at her coolly. “I want to know what you're taking.”

She frowned, shaking her head. “I'm not taking anything.”

“Besides the clinic vitamins.”

“Not even the vitamins. To tell you the truth, I
can't stand swallowing pills. So I don't take them.”

He stared at her. She looked completely open. Would such a pretty face lie?

You bet.

Could he take her word for anything at all?

Not on your life.

But she claimed she hadn't taken anything.

Was he wrong? Was all this just a natural progression for her? He thought it over again, step by step.

Nah. No way.

She was acting like a girl with a crush—but earlier in the evening he could have sworn her crush was on Dr. Richie. As far as he could see, that meant she was as far gone as all the other love zombies he'd seen haunting the hospital halls.

“So I guess we're down to looking for pods in the clinic basement, huh?” he said grimly.

“Basement?” She was beginning to look perplexed. “I don't think there is a basement.”

“Oh, there's a basement all right,” he said knowingly. “If only in your mind.”

She shook her head. “You're talking crazy.” Her puzzled look faded and she smiled again.
“But you're awful cute.” She sighed and looked down at the soggy shirt. “Why don't we go back to my apartment? I'll see if I've got the right kind of stain remover. I just can't stand to leave your shirt this way.”

He hesitated, considering. Why not? It would be one more chance to see if he could figure out what she was taking. Because she had to be taking something. Unless the good doctor was in to some sort of remote mind control. Daniel couldn't actually rule it out, but he was pretty sure the chances were slim.

“Okay,” he said. “Let's go.”

 

Abby wanted to stop by the reception hall to let the others know she was leaving. Dr. Richie was still surrounded by fans, so she checked on the two assistants and told them, then stopped by the counter to pick up her things.

At each stop she looked back at where Daniel was waiting for her, and each time she did, her breath caught in her throat. He gave her chills, he was so sexy, standing there with his jacket hanging open, revealing that iron-hard chest with its lovely tanned ridges.

Janet Greco, one of the women she'd signed up for the NoWait treatment program that evening, noticed, too.

“Oh, my,” she said appreciatively. “Is he yours?”

Abby felt as though she was glowing. “For the moment.”

Janet sighed. “Where can I get one like that?”

Abby looked at him and her heart skipped a beat. He really was gorgeous. She slowly shook her head.

“I don't know. I think he's one of a kind. Sorry.”

She was doing that floating thing again. She wasn't sure what it was, but she felt as though she were living on two levels at the same time. It was interesting that Daniel had asked her if she was drinking, because she felt like what she'd imagined it'd be like if she was drunk. Only not really. In fact, she didn't think she'd ever felt quite like this before.

Still, the duality was fascinating. There was the old, sober and sensible Abby on one level, watching all that was going on, and then there was the new bubbly Abby having a lovely time
and feeling a deep, abiding love for all of mankind. And an especially deep and interesting attraction for one Daniel O'Callahan. She wanted to be with him, to talk to him, to kiss him again. She was beginning to think she might just be crazy about the man.

This had never happened to her before. She'd dated, had even liked a few of the men she went out with. But she'd never had that sense of having found that special one before. Hearing other women talk about falling in love had always left her feeling a little out of it. She'd begun to wonder if she'd just been born without the love gene or something.

And now it looked as though she might have found out she had one after all. If it had finally happened to her, she was glad it was with Daniel. He was strong and compelling and hunky as all get out. And he could kiss like nothing she'd ever dreamed of. Sighing happily, she went back to meet him.