Mr. Fiancé(181)

Dominic smiled and shook his head. "Me too. In fact, Detective, I would say unless you're going to name Miss Mendosa a person of interest in this case and read her her rights, this interview is over."

The other detective, Turner, glared at Fritz while I gathered my things. "Miss Mendosa, there might be a need for you to give a video deposition," Detective Turner tried at a last gasp as I was leaving the room. "Would you at least agree to stay in town?"

"For now," I said, "until the man is caught, I hope. I wish you luck with your search, Detective."

Outside, I found Tomasso leaning against a planter, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet cocked in front of him. "So how'd it go?"

"I thought you were saying you wanted to stay away from the police," I remarked with a surprising smile. "Or are you turning over a new leaf?"

"I already did that—found out the new leaf wasn't as good as the old leaf, so I went back," Tomasso replied. "How was Detective Taguchi?"

"It was Fritz today," Dominic replied, holding out his hand. "Good to see you, Tomasso. When I heard you were back in town, I was hoping to come say hello. Sorry it had to happen like this."

Tomasso shook the offered hand while shrugging. "It always happens like this, Dominic. That's why your son gets to go to prep school and you only have one client. You earn every penny though."

Dominic chuckled, then looked at his watch. "Actually, I have more than one client, and I’m due for a meeting with another in about an hour. I'd normally let my secretary handle it—it's nothing but a probate technical issue involving a will—but I figure that you've got no problem with helping Miss Mendosa back home.”

"That's my job," Tomasso replied, waving at Dominic as he walked away. Turning to me, he flashed his cocky grin again. "So you survived the American police. Good to know. Now, where to?”

“Anywhere but back to your father’s house," I said. “I’m going to be stuck there enough as it is."

“I guess we don’t have to go back right away. Tell you what, let's go see the Space Needle."

"Really? Isn't it a little touristy?" I asked, still smiling. There was a certain rakish charm to Tomasso when he wasn't trying to come off as totally cocky.

“Maybe, but I bet you haven't been there yet, and it does give you one hell of a view from up there," he commented with a laugh. "Come on, it's not going to be that bad. And it'll keep you out of the house for a while."

I thought about it, then nodded. "Fine. Go on, American man. Show me around your city."

Tomasso grinned his little twisted, cocky grin that sent a thrill down my neck while at the same time irked me, and led me to his car. I climbed in, buckling my seat belt. "By the way, what is it with your family and Italian cars?"

“That’s all we drive,” Tomasso said. “Only the best. What do you have back home?"

I chuckled and looked out at the weather. "A TAC, actually."

"A what? Seriously? I would have taken you for a Porsche or Lambo girl," Tomasso said. "Lots of power, lots of curves."

I felt heat rise in my cheeks at his compliment and glanced over at him to see if he was making fun of me. His eyes were on the road, and his face seemed honest and open, which made the heat in my cheeks go up even more. “Nice try. But like you, my family likes to stick to cars in our heritage. TAC is a Brazilian company, not a subsidiary of someone else. They only make a single model, and it looks a lot like a Jeep. There are lots of roads outside Porto Alegre that make four-wheel drive and high clearance a necessity, so I drive that. I've gotten out of ruts and mud holes that would have gotten a Ferrari or BMW stuck to the rims."

Tomasso smirked and looked over. "You know, you continue to surprise me. I'd never have pegged you as a person who goes for practicality."

“Says the man who wears a thousand-dollar suit to do pickups," I noted, then shook my head. “I’m sorry. I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just saying that there’s more to me than meets the eye.”

"That goes both ways," Tomasso said softly, as if I'd touched a nerve. He found a parking spot and shut off the engine. "Shall we?"

Walking through the park that surrounded the Space Needle, I was taken with the prettiness of the day. As opposed to the previous day's gloom, the sky was clear, and the warmth of the sun felt like a taste of home. "This is nice," I said, stopping and facing the sun. "There are days, back home, when I use to do this over and over."

"When I first got to Alabama, I spent so much time outside that I turned a dark tan," Tomasso said. He sighed and looked up at the Needle. "There were a few years there when I could have stayed that nut brown and bummed my way around the South. I'm sure Dad would have cut me an allowance until I made something of myself."