All Things Pretty
Page 10
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I face him and his sinfully dazzling eyes. “I don’t trust anyone.”
That one sentence contains more truth than I’ve spoken in years.
CHAPTER TEN- SIG
I watch Tommi’s delectable ass as she crosses the sidewalk and enters the building. Luckily, there’s parking out front, so I ease her car into a spot and get out. Her instructions to stay here until she gets back, that she won’t be long, only make me more curious as to why she wants me to stay away. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s something. There’s only one way to find out.
I lock up and jog to the door, nodding to the attendant as I pass. Inside, I pause for a few seconds to let my eyes adjust to the dimly plush interior. I scan my surroundings, spotting a discreet sign for a bar at the back of the lobby. I walk that way, thinking I can easily keep an eye out from there.
Something colorful sticking out of a trashcan catches my eye as I pass. It looks an awful lot like the baby shower present Tommi came in with. There’s no way I can confirm without making a scene and digging it out of the trash, but I’m pretty damn sure that’s what it is. Either way, it’s enough to have my instincts on high alert.
At the bar entrance, I look for a table close to the door so that I can have a good view of the mysterious Tommi as she leaves the building. At least I can see if she comes down with someone.
Turns out I don’t have to wait. And that I was right about her lying. She’s up to something. And it’s not a baby shower. She’s here in the bar.
Even if she wasn’t blonde, which so many women are, and even if she weren’t wearing a green blousy thing that matches her eyes, I’d still be able to pick her out of a crowd instantly. Something about her pulls at me. Like a magnet or gravity. Or temptation. Even though her taste in men is practically criminal (for criminals) and she’s likely at least knowledgeable about what Lance is into, I can’t not be attracted to her. I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to her. It makes no sense, but then again it doesn’t have to. In a house full of cops, gut instinct is a way of life and I’ve learned never to ignore it.
I’ve always been damn good at reading people and as soon as Tommi said it, I got the feeling she wasn’t being entirely straight with Lance about this baby shower thing. Then, when I saw the shocked look on her face when I asked her where she was really going, I knew I was right. Something’s up. And I’m just the guy to find out what that something is.
I drop into a seat that’s behind a big column near the entrance to the bar and I wait for a few seconds before I straighten enough to see Tommi again. She’s sitting at a corner booth, alone, like she’s trying to hide. Kinda like I’m doing. She’s got a little tablet in front of her and she looks engrossed, totally oblivious to what’s going on around her.
The waitress comes and I order a Coke, handing her a ten and then turning my attention back to the beautiful platinum head across the room. I watch her for forty-one minutes. She only rouses to her surroundings a couple of times, stretching and glancing around nervously before focusing once again on the screen. Whatever she’s doing, she doesn’t want to get caught. I don’t know if Lance even knows where we are, if she gave him an address. Hell, for all I know, there might not even be a pregnant friend. What I find most interesting, though, is that she’s playing Lance. That much is obvious. And that means there are only three options for the beautiful Just Tommi: She’s dumber than I think, smarter than I think or she has a death wish. And I’m determined to find out which one is accurate.
When after the better part of an hour, she folds the collapsible keyboard and starts closing up shop, I slip out unnoticed and haul ass to the car. I’m sitting in the driver’s seat with the window rolled down when I see her appear on the sidewalk at the front door. I start the engine and she looks my way. Her lips curve into a faint smile, which dies almost immediately, almost like she didn’t mean to smile. Yet she did.
I watch her walk primly toward me. I get out at the last minute to open the back passenger door. Her step falters for a second. “You don’t have to open my door.”
“Of course I do.”
“You’re not a chauffer.”
I shrug. “No, but I was raised in the south. This is what a man does.”
She considers me for a while before she bends gracefully to get into the car. I close the door behind her.
Once I’m settled in behind the wheel again, I find her eyes in the rearview. “Where to now?”
“Back to Lance’s.”
A few minutes of silence. I glance back several times to find her staring out the window, her expression blank. I’d love to know what’s going on behind that beautiful face, because I know something is. Probably a lot of something. If I had to guess, I’d say this woman’s mind never stops running.
“How was the shower?”
Her eyes slide to mine and she frowns. “Pardon?”
“The baby shower. How did it go?”
“Oh, right. Fine.” She sighs. “She’s having a little boy. She got tons of stuff. Clothes, diapers, a stroller, a baby swing, bottles, travel kits, a little bathtub. She shouldn’t have to buy much.”
She doesn’t bat an eye, just rattles this shit off like she was actually there. I’m impressed. This girl can lie her ass off. The question is: Why would she need to?
“Nice.”
Neither of us speaks for the rest of the trip back.
When we reach Lance Tonin’s building, I drop Tommi at the front and go back around to the side to park in the garage. Alone, I take the elevator up to the penthouse. I can hear the raised voices as soon as I pass the two goons that stand guard in the foyer.
“It’s for your safety. If you have nothing to hide then it shouldn’t be a problem,” Tonin is saying.
“Just what is it that you think that I’m doing?”
I’m ushered by a third goon through the marble foyer, with its light gray walls and muted lighting. To me, everything has this cold, dark look, like there’s perpetual shade in here. Or maybe it just looks shady. Like the owner of the place. Goon number three drops me off in the equally drab living room. It’s a sea of whites, blacks and grays and the only color besides Tonin’s ruddy, pock-marked face is in Tommi’s flushed cheeks and her jewel green shirt.
That one sentence contains more truth than I’ve spoken in years.
CHAPTER TEN- SIG
I watch Tommi’s delectable ass as she crosses the sidewalk and enters the building. Luckily, there’s parking out front, so I ease her car into a spot and get out. Her instructions to stay here until she gets back, that she won’t be long, only make me more curious as to why she wants me to stay away. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s something. There’s only one way to find out.
I lock up and jog to the door, nodding to the attendant as I pass. Inside, I pause for a few seconds to let my eyes adjust to the dimly plush interior. I scan my surroundings, spotting a discreet sign for a bar at the back of the lobby. I walk that way, thinking I can easily keep an eye out from there.
Something colorful sticking out of a trashcan catches my eye as I pass. It looks an awful lot like the baby shower present Tommi came in with. There’s no way I can confirm without making a scene and digging it out of the trash, but I’m pretty damn sure that’s what it is. Either way, it’s enough to have my instincts on high alert.
At the bar entrance, I look for a table close to the door so that I can have a good view of the mysterious Tommi as she leaves the building. At least I can see if she comes down with someone.
Turns out I don’t have to wait. And that I was right about her lying. She’s up to something. And it’s not a baby shower. She’s here in the bar.
Even if she wasn’t blonde, which so many women are, and even if she weren’t wearing a green blousy thing that matches her eyes, I’d still be able to pick her out of a crowd instantly. Something about her pulls at me. Like a magnet or gravity. Or temptation. Even though her taste in men is practically criminal (for criminals) and she’s likely at least knowledgeable about what Lance is into, I can’t not be attracted to her. I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to her. It makes no sense, but then again it doesn’t have to. In a house full of cops, gut instinct is a way of life and I’ve learned never to ignore it.
I’ve always been damn good at reading people and as soon as Tommi said it, I got the feeling she wasn’t being entirely straight with Lance about this baby shower thing. Then, when I saw the shocked look on her face when I asked her where she was really going, I knew I was right. Something’s up. And I’m just the guy to find out what that something is.
I drop into a seat that’s behind a big column near the entrance to the bar and I wait for a few seconds before I straighten enough to see Tommi again. She’s sitting at a corner booth, alone, like she’s trying to hide. Kinda like I’m doing. She’s got a little tablet in front of her and she looks engrossed, totally oblivious to what’s going on around her.
The waitress comes and I order a Coke, handing her a ten and then turning my attention back to the beautiful platinum head across the room. I watch her for forty-one minutes. She only rouses to her surroundings a couple of times, stretching and glancing around nervously before focusing once again on the screen. Whatever she’s doing, she doesn’t want to get caught. I don’t know if Lance even knows where we are, if she gave him an address. Hell, for all I know, there might not even be a pregnant friend. What I find most interesting, though, is that she’s playing Lance. That much is obvious. And that means there are only three options for the beautiful Just Tommi: She’s dumber than I think, smarter than I think or she has a death wish. And I’m determined to find out which one is accurate.
When after the better part of an hour, she folds the collapsible keyboard and starts closing up shop, I slip out unnoticed and haul ass to the car. I’m sitting in the driver’s seat with the window rolled down when I see her appear on the sidewalk at the front door. I start the engine and she looks my way. Her lips curve into a faint smile, which dies almost immediately, almost like she didn’t mean to smile. Yet she did.
I watch her walk primly toward me. I get out at the last minute to open the back passenger door. Her step falters for a second. “You don’t have to open my door.”
“Of course I do.”
“You’re not a chauffer.”
I shrug. “No, but I was raised in the south. This is what a man does.”
She considers me for a while before she bends gracefully to get into the car. I close the door behind her.
Once I’m settled in behind the wheel again, I find her eyes in the rearview. “Where to now?”
“Back to Lance’s.”
A few minutes of silence. I glance back several times to find her staring out the window, her expression blank. I’d love to know what’s going on behind that beautiful face, because I know something is. Probably a lot of something. If I had to guess, I’d say this woman’s mind never stops running.
“How was the shower?”
Her eyes slide to mine and she frowns. “Pardon?”
“The baby shower. How did it go?”
“Oh, right. Fine.” She sighs. “She’s having a little boy. She got tons of stuff. Clothes, diapers, a stroller, a baby swing, bottles, travel kits, a little bathtub. She shouldn’t have to buy much.”
She doesn’t bat an eye, just rattles this shit off like she was actually there. I’m impressed. This girl can lie her ass off. The question is: Why would she need to?
“Nice.”
Neither of us speaks for the rest of the trip back.
When we reach Lance Tonin’s building, I drop Tommi at the front and go back around to the side to park in the garage. Alone, I take the elevator up to the penthouse. I can hear the raised voices as soon as I pass the two goons that stand guard in the foyer.
“It’s for your safety. If you have nothing to hide then it shouldn’t be a problem,” Tonin is saying.
“Just what is it that you think that I’m doing?”
I’m ushered by a third goon through the marble foyer, with its light gray walls and muted lighting. To me, everything has this cold, dark look, like there’s perpetual shade in here. Or maybe it just looks shady. Like the owner of the place. Goon number three drops me off in the equally drab living room. It’s a sea of whites, blacks and grays and the only color besides Tonin’s ruddy, pock-marked face is in Tommi’s flushed cheeks and her jewel green shirt.
