His Private Pleasure(10)

“Are you sure she knows anything? I mean, it’s been years since she’s been in the loop with Dugan. If she really knew anything important, he’s had plenty of time now to cover it up. Otherwise he’d have never left her to her own devices in the first place.”

“Maybe he knows she’ll be loyal because she still loves him. Maybe he was stupid enough about her to trust her that way. You know we all think with our dicks half the time. Why not Dugan?”

“I don’t know, Quin. It just doesn’t sound all that solid to me. Did she give you any specifics of what she was going to spill?”

“No. But we have to pursue it, D.J. We don’t have that many options with Dugan these days. So how does this Wednesday sound to you?”

That was only two days away. But it was probably best to get it over and done with. Dylan sighed and massaged his temple. Maybe he’d been wrong after all. You could go home again, but all the baggage you’d collected along the way came home with you.

“We’ll come to your place. Keep this quiet and out of the local papers.”

“No, not at the house.” If he’d had the time, Dylan would have simply caved and gone to Vegas, done the interview and put it behind him. But with the festival coming up and all the attendant council meetings, there was no way he could be gone without making explanations he’d rather not make. He blew out a long breath and decided sleeping with Liza was moving way down on the list of possible worst mistakes.

“You pick the place, then.”

Setting up secret meetings with ex-mob girlfriends wasn’t exactly high priority these days, so he had to think about it for a moment. “Mims Motel. We keep this private.” It was small, but nice enough, and more importantly, tucked away on the outskirts of town. “Reserve the room, an end unit, under the name Liza…” Damn, he didn’t know her last name. “Smith.” Lame, but he was thinking on the run here, and rusty at it.

“Hey, Boss, you trying to get the department to pay for your little shack-up?”

His jaw tensed. “You want my help?”

“Liza Smith it is,” Quin said instantly, but not without a little amusement. “See you Wednesday, Boss.”

“Yeah, great,” Dylan muttered, but Quin had already hung up. Dylan tossed the phone on the passenger seat and scrubbed his hand over his face, then around the back of his neck. He wondered what his chances were of getting Liza to hang around Canyon Springs for another forty-eight hours.

He was certain his mother had mainlined the information about his supposed showgirl’s arrival directly into the artery of the very active ladies auxiliary. The entire town was buzzing as he sat here. So, it would cause barely a ripple if he were to visit said girlfriend at a local motel. And there was the added bonus of gaining what little approval he could get from his mother over not allowing Liza to stay at his house. Why a thirty-two-year-old man gave a damn about that was simply too pathetic to contemplate.

Of course, Avis might be so thankful over his proved heterosexuality that she wouldn’t care if he and Liza swung naked from the trees smack in the middle of town.

He shook his head at the image and climbed his truck the rest of the way up the steep drive.

She was waiting for him on the deck.

“I thought you were having second thoughts,” she said, leaning over the railing. “And third and fourth ones.”

He closed the truck door and climbed the spiral stairs to the second-story deck. “What do you mean?”

She turned to face him, but stayed by the railing. “Well, you sat down there at the bottom of the hill for so long, I began to wonder.”

“Oh. Phone call. Sorry.”

“Ah.” She gestured behind her. “You have quite the view from up here.”

“You improve it greatly.”

She smiled at him. “Smooth, very smooth.”

He shrugged and the whole problem with Quin and the upcoming interview slid to the background. Maybe he should arrange to come home to a beautiful woman more often.

“I try.” Rather than move closer, which was what he wanted to do, and likely what she expected him to do, he leaned against the side door that led into the living area. The entire front wall of the house was sectioned glass. His bedroom was in the loft at the upper rear of the house and had a small balcony off the back. He wondered if she’d been up there yet and absently hoped he hadn’t left too many stray socks lying around. “Can I get you a beer or something? Or have you helped yourself?”

“Actually, I haven’t been inside.” She dangled the key. “I came up here and got cozy with the view instead.”

“You could have at least gotten yourself something to drink.” He’d assumed she’d make herself right at home. Maybe she enjoyed doing the unexpected, as well. Should make for an interesting evening.

She lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t come directly up to the house.” She grinned. “Now don’t go frowning like that. I didn’t talk to anyone. At least not anyone immediately related to you.”

“In this town blood isn’t necessarily thicker than water.”

“Not to worry. It used to be my business to make sure only the right people heard the right things. I know my way around a grapevine.”

“Well, Hollywood’s got nothing on Canyon Springs when it comes to spreading the word. In fact, we could probably teach you all a thing or two. Who did you talk to?”

She merely laughed. “I think you’re safe. For the moment, anyway.” She walked over to one of the heavy Adirondack chairs and reached in a big, blue canvas bag with some gold designer logo attached to the front. “I did manage to pick up a nice bottle of wine.” She pulled the bottle out of its paper bag. “My contribution to the meal.”

He took the bottle and the house key she offered him. “Thanks. Looks good.”

“It is.” When he lifted a brow, she said, “Those who can’t cook better know their wine. It’s the only way we get invited back.”

“Somehow I think you have a few other qualities that might recommend you as a repeat guest.”

She smiled. “Somehow I’m not as flattered by that comment as I might be if someone else delivered it.”

Now it was his turn to grin. “I guess I’d better get the grill fired up.”

“It’s your schedule. I’m just the guest.”

He shook his head as he unlocked the door. Just the guest. He wondered what she’d say if he told her she was the first woman he’d had up here. Alone, anyway. He’d had the requisite housewarming, or should he say, his mother had. But other than that…well, he hadn’t really pictured having a woman in his home, not quite yet, anyway. He figured he’d get around to developing a social life again at some point, but with his mother shoving anything in heels down his throat, he’d resisted a bit longer than he might have otherwise.

He glanced back at Liza, who was leaning against the railing, looking out at the view. He was enjoying the view as well. “Looks like the time for resistance is over,” he murmured.





5




LIZA GLANCED BACK in time to watch Dylan disappear into his house. Her smile faded to a thoughtful look. She wondered just what kind of phone call he’d taken. Despite their banter, the dark edges were more prominent now. A slight tension to his jaw, a certain flatness to his eyes… And his voice was a bit more clipped, even though he’d been nothing but charming.

She laughed at herself. She’d known him, what? An hour or two? And already she was an authority on his moods? Maybe he was always like this at the end of a workday. On the other hand, she had built an exclusive clientele based on her aptitude for reading people, judging their needs, often before they even knew they needed something. She’d met Dylan under trying circumstances and seen him frustrated, irritated, annoyed. This…edginess she’d spied just now was totally at odds with the man she’d gotten out of that tree.

Danger, danger, Liza, her little voice intoned. This was just for fun. A nice dinner, mix in a little flirting, a little seduction, a few hours of intensely pleasurable sex…and she had no doubt he could deliver it. Some things a woman just knew. And some women knew better than others, she thought with a private smile. She’d be back to her journey of self-discovery by morning. Certainly a little discovery of Dylan Jackson first wouldn’t do any harm.

Sure, he was enigmatic in a way she wouldn’t have expected. Sure, she was intrigued by the big city–small town paradox he presented. But this was just an evening out. A little detour. He was offering to be part of her adventure. Nothing more, nothing less. She’d be a fool to pass up such a delightful and relatively safe proposition.

And Liza Sanguinetti was no fool. At least, most of the time.

Dylan reappeared on the deck with two glasses of wine and a bag of wood chips tucked under his arm. She took both glasses and set them on the small round table next to the railing. She wondered how many private little dinners had been set at this intimate table for two.

She sipped her wine, then motioned to him. “You changed,” she said, faintly accusatory, although she admitted he looked damn fine in jeans and a soft ribbed Henley.