Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) Page 29

  She dropped her eyelashes and bit her bottom lip. Her slight nod told him that’s exactly what she was referring to.

  He placed his hands on her thighs, pressing his thumbs into the soft flesh.

  “Well, you know, I’m glad you brought that up. Because I’ve been doing some thinking on that very matter myself.”

  She blinked to stare at him.

  “Oh, yeah. You see, I was questioning whether or not you were getting what you needed from me.”

  If the sudden catch of her breath was any indication, the double entendre had hit its mark.

  He placed one of his hands against her neck and slid it under her thick, silky hair. “That’s why I think you should tell me what you expect from me.”

  Her pupils dilated, making her brown eyes look black. “I guess I was thinking about, you know, suggestions for lingerie. On what I might do with my hair. I’ve never, um, been able to walk in heels, but I think with some help I might learn.”

  Zach probed her provocative face. “Is that what you think makes a woman sexy?”

  “I think it’s what makes a man want to marry a woman.”

  “Ah.” They had finally gotten to the crux of the problem.

  She moved to wipe her hands on her jeans and ran into his hand, where it still rested on her thigh. She began to pull back, then changed tactics and instead laid her fingers over his.

  “I don’t know. It’s stupid, really. This obsessing I’ve been doing over my exes. It’s not that I want any of them back. I don’t.”

  He smiled.

  “It’s just that, you know, one or two dumping you then becoming engaged to someone else…well, it’s not easy, but you can explain it away. But when it happens a third time…”

  “Then it happens a third time,” Zach said quietly. “Tell me, Mariah, do you think your appearance is what is scaring these guys off?”

  She shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze.

  He hooked his finger under her chin and lifted her face up. But she still refused to meet his gaze.

  Zach chuckled softly. As stubborn as her father, he couldn’t hope to ever win in a contest against her. But if he could make her think, make her take a good, long look at herself, see how utterly sexy she was and how any man would count himself lucky to have her…well, then he would have more than done what she’d asked of him.

  He flipped his hand over so that he was gripping hers. “Come on.”

  “What?” She blinked at him, obviously surprised by his sudden change in demeanor.

  “I said come on. I think it’s long past time you and I went shopping.”

  She made a face. “I hate shopping,” she said, but slid from the table anyway.

  He smoothed his hand down over her firm bottom then kissed her exposed neck. “You won’t after I get done with you.”

  11

  MARIAH STILL HATED SHOPPING. With a passion. All those delicate boutiques. All that pink and lace. It all made her itch something terrible. She caught herself where she was scratching her arm then picked up Zach in the rearview mirror. He was following her in her father’s later-model four-door pickup. She smiled as she realized she was doing eighty and he was keeping up without any problem.

  The smile quickly vanished as she realized all the fast-food wrappers had been replaced by shopping bags. The only time she’d come near to having a good time was when she and Zach hit the menswear section of Neiman’s. Now that was an area she could identify with. Not a splash of pink to be seen. Well, okay, maybe there was one shirt here and there, but she’d bet that in Texas they’d sit on the rack until someone either sent them back to the manufacturer or some poor slob got suckered into wearing one because his pink-loving wife thought it cute.

  But when she’d started browsing through the sportswear section, Zach had caught her and steered her toward the women’s department. He hadn’t even let her buy the T-shirt she’d picked up.

  She released a long sigh. She supposed she’d asked for that, given what she’d said to him at the office.

  Okay, so maybe she liked a few of the items in some of the bags. Especially the stuff she’d sneaked into the piles Zach had collected for her. She could practically hear her savings account groan from here, but as Zach had told her, if there was anything she didn’t like she could always return it.

  She was of a mind to think he already knew she wouldn’t set foot in a few of those places again if dragged kicking and screaming. Especially the froufrou shop where Zach had made her buy a pink silk robe and matching nightgown.

  Hmm…maybe she could give it to Justin’s fiancée as a wedding present. The ensemble struck her as something Heather would wear to accept a package from the UPS delivery guy.

  Realizing she was coming up quicker than she thought to the turnoff, she eased off the gas and watched as Zach had to stand on his brakes to keep from plowing into her backside. She gave him an apologetic wave, though she could tell by his expression he was more amused than upset by her reckless maneuver. She flicked on her blinker and turned onto the road leading to Miss Winona’s two-story farmhouse. She didn’t know if the dress would be done, but she’d been short of excuses why they shouldn’t stop on their way out to the ranch.

  Something dark and leaden slowly coated her stomach. And she knew why. The repair of the dress would also do away with any remaining reasons Zach had to stay.

  Minutes later she pulled to a stop in Miss Winona’s driveway and got out of the truck, then stood and waited as Zach pulled up to park next to her.

  “Dangerous move you made there, Miss Clayborn,” Zach said, climbing from the truck cab and closing the door.

  Mariah uncrossed her legs where she leaned against the truck. “Sorry, I was preoccupied with all that…pink stuff you made me buy today.”

  He chuckled then came to stand in front of her. His cowboy hat blocked the late afternoon sunlight, casting his eyes in shadow while highlighting the rest of his face.

  He leaned closer to her. “I can’t wait to see you in them.”

  “All of it?”

  He nodded, a devilish glint shining from his eyes. “Every last piece.”

  “All at once?”

  He chuckled. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  She covertly looked at him as they walked up to Miss Winona’s side door. If she wasn’t mistaken, he didn’t like picking up the dress any more than she did.

  But that was ridiculous. There wasn’t any reason he would want to stay in Houston.

  Zach knocked briefly on the door then stood back out of the way.

  No answer.

  Mariah frowned, and knocked herself.

  Tires chewing up gravel sounded. They turned to find the sheriff pulling up into the driveway behind their trucks just as the door opened.

  “Oh, thank God he’s here,” Miss Winona said.

  * * *

  A HALF HOUR LATER Zach was still trying to process everything that had happened. He noticed that everything that had been in place yesterday when he and Mariah had dropped off the damaged wedding dress was…well, out of place. More specifically, moved, turned over or broken altogether.

  It didn’t take a veteran P.I. to know the place had been ransacked. What remained was what the thief or thieves had been looking for, because it was obvious they were looking for something in particular. Miss Winona’s silver set hadn’t been touched, nor had any of her jewelry upstairs, apart from a diamond pendant the thief probably had taken a liking to, but which held no real worth. Not when compared to the countless items that had been passed up.

  Miss Winona hadn’t been home at the time. She’d returned ten minutes before Mariah and Zach had arrived to find her house in its present squalor.

  A familiar flowery scent filled Zach’s nose. He turned to find
Miss Winona walking behind him. But the reason the scent was familiar eluded him.

  Sheriff Crump closed his notepad and scratched his head. “Are you sure you didn’t see any suspicious characters lurking around lately, Miss Winona?”

  “Positive. You know how I am about those sorts of things, sheriff. A stray dog comes into my yard and I’m on the phone to your office.”

  The man’s grimace told Zach that was true.

  Mariah picked up an old figurine that even Zach recognized as a Remington piece. Or a reproduction.

  “You don’t think Claude Ray could have done this, do you?” Zach asked her.

  All three of them looked at him as if surprised he’d voiced the question. Not because it was stupid, but because he was an outsider.

  Mariah put the figurine down. “No. This doesn’t fit Ray’s M.O. at all. He left too much stuff behind for it to have been him.”

  “Still, it might warrant some looking into,” the sheriff said, sighing. “Can’t imagine what anyone would want way out here. Why, we haven’t had a house burglary in these parts since the Thompson twins terrorized the town back in ’76.”

  Zach frowned. Weren’t the Thompson Twins an eighties musical trio? He shook his head to clear it of the image of the English performers ransacking Miss Winona’s farmhouse.

  The sheriff directed his attention to Mariah. “What are you doing out this way anyway, Mariah?”

  “Zach and I came by to pick up a wedding dress.” She looked at Miss Winona, completely oblivious to the way the sheriff was staring bug-eyed, first at Mariah, then Zach. Zach merely shrugged, not about to dispel any strange ideas running through the guy’s mind. “Speaking of which, is it done?”

  Miss Winona nodded and passed behind Zach again, giving him another whiff of her perfume. No, no, not perfume. It smelled liked powder. The scented kind.

  And exactly the scent Hughie Clayborn had been wearing that morning.

  Zach chuckled softly, then cleared his throat when Mariah looked at him strangely.

  So Hughie was having a go at it with Miss Winona. He rubbed the back of his neck and ducked his head to hide his face from Mariah, then turned around altogether to get a good look at the fifty-something widow looking prim and proper in her flower dress and neat little bun.

  “I took it to the weekly sewing bee with me. You know, the local girls and I get together once a week to sew quilts and the like, but since there was such a rush on this, I decided I’d work on it rather than the quilt Twila’s making for Justin and…”

  She gave Mariah an apologetic look. Zach suspected that this Justin was Mariah’s ex.

  The sheriff hiked up his pants. “Why the rush on the wedding dress, Mariah? Something going on we don’t know about?”

  Mariah wasn’t paying attention to him. And neither was Zach for that matter.

  “You mean the wedding dress wasn’t here during the break-in?” Zach asked as Mariah accepted the dress. He mentally made a note to himself to check into whether or not Miss Winona had insurance. If not, he’d arrange for some compensation to help out with repairs.

  “That’s what I said. I had it with me.” She carefully folded back the material and showed her handiwork. “There. You can’t even tell there was a tear.”

  Mariah nodded, but Zach could tell her mind was clicking away on the possibilities. She met his gaze. He nodded.

  “Thanks, Miss Winona,” Zach said. “How much did you say this would be?”

  * * *

  OKAY, SO ZACH WAS RIGHT. Someone was after the wedding dress. But who? And why?

  Mariah mixed the flour and lard in a bowl at the kitchen counter as Zach had shown her and worked through the questions ticking off in her head.

  The wedding photo of Priscilla London’s important event had come through. As Mariah had expected, featured prominently in the picture was the wedding dress sitting in a box on the kitchen table.

  She pushed her hair away from her face with the back of her hand and attacked the mixture with a fork again until it looked like a bunch of white peas. “Are you sure this is how it’s supposed to look?” she asked Zach, where he stood browning chicken breasts at the stove.

  “Trust me, will you?” He stepped to the sink and half filled a coffee mug with water then took a large spoon from the drawer. “Now add three to four tablespoons of water, one at a time, mixing well after each addition.”

  Mariah sighed. “Okay, but I still think this isn’t going to be fit for anything but the garbage can.”

  She smiled, not doubting his expertise in the kitchen, but questioning her own abilities beyond making mashed potatoes and semi-edible fried chicken. She’d watched in fascination as he’d hammered out chicken breasts with a meat mallet that she’d seen in the drawer but never used except to bang on a stubborn jar that wouldn’t open. Then he’d covered each with a piece of ham and chunks of Swiss cheese and rolled them up and was now browning them.

  She looked down at what she was doing and was surprised to discover that the mixture was coming to resemble dough.

  “I’ll be darned…”

  Zach came up behind her, running his hands the length of her arms then into the bowl with hers. “That’s enough water. Now, roll it up into a ball. There you go. Scatter some flour on the counter. Mmm.”

  He nuzzled her neck where she’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail. “Would you stop.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “I want to learn how to do this.”

  “You can’t learn while I’m nibbling on your neck?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Ah.”

  Mariah firmly landed her elbow in his stomach and his breath came out in a loud whoosh. “Okay, okay,” he said, covering his abdomen with his hands and standing next to her. “I give up.”

  She glanced at him and flattened the ball out on top of the flour. “Like this?”

  “Yeah. Now do you have a rolling pin?”

  Mariah completely blanked. Did they have a rolling pin? She remembered her mother using one years and years ago, but she couldn’t recall having ever seen it outside of her mother’s hands.

  She stared at Zach.

  He scratched his chin then walked to the utility closet and pulled out a couple of brooms. He chose one with a wood handle and broke it over his bent leg.

  “Hey! That was a perfectly good broom.”

  He took the length of handle to the sink and scrubbed it with steel wool. “Yes, well, now it’s a perfectly good rolling pin.”

  Mariah watched him thoroughly clean and dry it. He sprinkled flour over it and went to work on the blob of dough, rolling it out neatly this way and that, turning it over, then rolling it again.

  This time she couldn’t resist coming up behind him. “Hmm, I like a resourceful man.”

  A chuckle resonated in his chest, where she had her arms wrapped around it. “That’s not what you said a few minutes ago.”

  “That was before you took over for me.”

  He moved to the side and slapped the makeshift rolling pin into her hands. “Here. Put it into the pie pan and smooth all the air bubbles out between the dough and the pan.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His grin looked especially dangerous. “You just made me think of those leather panties you bought.”

  Mariah’s throat threatened to close up at the thought.

  “You, those leather panties and a subservient disposition. Has possibilities.”

  The back door opened, letting in her father.

  “Hey, you two. Dinner cooking yet?”

  Something was cooking, but it definitely wasn’t dinner.

  Mariah cleared her throat and exchanged a few pleasantries with her father then waved at him as he left the room to go clean up.

  She deflated the instant he
was out of sight. “God, what am I going to say if he mentions anything about last night?”

  “What about last night?” Zach asked.

  “Well…you know.”

  “He didn’t hear us.”

  “How could he not have?”

  Zach looked away then shrugged. “He didn’t say a word to me this morning about having heard us. Don’t you think he would have said something otherwise?”

  Mariah narrowed her gaze. “How are you in the liar department?”

  “Pardon me?” he asked with raised brows.

  “You know. Did you use to forge your grandmother’s signature on report cards? Tell your teacher the dog peed on your homework. Stuff like that?”

  He shook his head as the sun slid farther south outside the window, spotlighting him in a yellow glow. All he’d need was a halo and the image would be complete.

  “Nope.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  He finished up whatever he was doing at the stove and moved to the table, where the sunlight seemed to highlight the wedding dress there. Mariah finished the dough, wiped her hands and turned to watch him.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. That the guy who stole my suitcase in Alabama is that same guy who broke into Miss Winona’s house.”

  Mariah shook her head. “Too big a coincidence.”

  “Not if the guy’s been following us.”

  She twisted her lips. “Have you and the client touched base yet?”

  Zach sighed. “Yes. He said he doesn’t have a clue who would want the dress other than him.”

  “Did he tell you where he got it?”

  Zach looked at her. “No. Why do you ask?”

  She shrugged. “Just thinking aloud.”

  Something flashed in the light as Zach slightly raised the front of the dress.

  “Hold it,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  She repositioned herself, her eyes glued to the bust of the dress. “Pull it out a little bit more. Yes, that’s it. Now move it around a bit.”