Chapter 9
Lori thought she’d made it safely to the elevator when Jonathan Lockwood, the event organizer, called to her. Lockwood reminded her of how Ichabod Crane from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow had been described—not in a Johnny Depp sort of way—but in the words used by Washington Irving in the 1820 short story.
“Lori! Thank god, I found you,” he said, making long strides across the lobby. “I was looking for you earlier. Someone said you’d left the hotel.”
“No. Just met with a friend, who is coming to the cocktail party with me. That won’t be a problem, will it? I know I said I didn’t have a plus one, but I met with the newspaper publisher and invited him.”
“Ryker McKay? Oh, thank you. You know what they say, any publicity is good publicity. I did want to check in with you to make sure you were okay after finding poor Antony Cobain last night. That must have been simply dreadful for you.”
“It isn’t anything I’d care to repeat, but I must say the incident was far worse for Cobain than for me. But thank you for checking in with me.”
“I was afraid you might be so upset you’d want to leave. I just needed to make sure you wouldn’t be leaving the conference early.”
“Absolutely not. It takes more than a dead body to scare me away from anything, much less this conference.”
“Oh, that’s so good to hear,” Lockwood schmoozed.
Lori glanced at her cell phone to see the time. “Unless you need something from me, I need to get upstairs and change for the party. I’d hate to keep Mr. McKay waiting.” God, could I sound any more simpering?
“Of course. I completely understand. But do let me know if I can do anything to be of assistance.”
“My part in whatever happened is pretty much over, but I do appreciate your concern.”
“I’ll let you go and will look forward to seeing you and Mr. McKay at the party.”
Lori stepped into the elevator, pushed the button for her floor, and smiled as the elevator door closed between them. Once the door opened on her floor, she rushed down the hall and into her room. She pulled out the expensive dress she’d brought with her. She wanted to make a splash and wanted something that made her feel like a successful mystery author. She’d thought about splurging on a pair of killer stilettos, but had decided instead to wear a strappy, black patent kitten heel so she’d be comfortable all evening.
She grabbed a quick shower, letting the steam refresh her hair, making it a little damp and easier to pull into a chic chignon at the base of her neck. She touched up her makeup, brushed her teeth and went out to pull on the black asymmetrical hem satin lace dress with its plunging neckline and long sleeves that puffed at the bottom. The neckline flowed into a band that was gathered at the bottom of the plunge and then swept down to her natural waist. The bodice had a keyhole back that gave the dress the sexy, bohemian vibe she had wanted. She was glad it had a built-in foundation as she was quite certain anything other than a built-in would have shown.
As she put on a pair of delicate, crystal drop earrings, she wondered why she was bothering. She knew the answer—Ryker McKay. He was gorgeous, fascinating, and easy to be with. She found her usual awkwardness fading away in the face of his charm and the easy way he had.
He seemed to be set on the fact that they were heading for…what exactly? An attraction between them? And where would that lead? To dating him for the next few days? Sleeping with him? Something, but she really wasn’t sure. She preferred clear, direct communication. Resolving to have a conversation with him about that, she was startled by a knock on the door.
Peeking out the peephole, she took a step back and then looked again. Ryker was standing there, looking very dapper and handsome in a tux she was pretty sure hadn’t come from a rental shop. He probably had attended a lot of embassy parties in the past. She opened the door and showed him in, closing the door behind him. She needed to put a few things in her evening bag and put on her shoes. He passed by her and turned to take a long look at her before giving a deep, sensual wolf whistle.
“You look gorgeous. I suppose that was a given as you always look great, but that dress is a killer.”
She rolled her eyes and then grabbed the sides of her skirt to give him a mock curtsy. “Thank you, kind sir. I’ll be just a minute.”
“Don’t hurry on my account. I’d just as soon stay here in your room and order in.”
There it was again—an indication that he wanted something more. No time like the present.
“So, is there a reason you seem to keep flirting with me? You are flirting, right?”
“Oh god; if you have to ask, I’m really out of practice.” He held up his hand. “But to answer your very straightforward question, yes, I’ve been flirting with you.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed and transferred a few things from her big bag to the black, crystal-studded mesh bag with polished silver bangle handles that made it easy to carry or slide up over her wrist to go hands-free. When she reached for her shoe, Ryker took it from her, kneeled down, ran his other hand down the back of her calf, warming her flesh and making her shiver. Taking her foot in his hand, he slipped the shoe on before repeating the gesture with the other shoe. Lori could do nothing but watch as he stood and extended his hand and helped her off the bed.
“For the record, I’d much rather be helping you out of that gorgeous dress and into bed…”
“McKay, I don’t know what you’re thinking…”
He laid a finger across her lips. “I’m not thinking anything other than I think you are a beautiful woman who I’d like to spend time with. But I can be a good boy until you let me off the leash and want me to be the bad boy.”
He was way too sexy for his own good—or hers for that matter. She sensed there was something predatory and just a bit dangerous about Ryker McKay. She remembered thinking the same thing about both Thorn Wilder and Slade Rafferty.
Trying to cover how flustered he made her feel, she grinned, “What happens if I don’t want the good boy? What if I want the bad boy instead?”
As she reached for the door handle, he gently spun her around, pressing her into the wall before leaning down so nothing more than a butterfly’s wing could fit between them. “Be very careful about what you want.”
Deciding bravado was her best option, Lori straightened her back. “How will I know what it is I want unless I know what you’re offering?”
“Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to resist sweeping you up in my arms and carrying you back to that bed?” he asked in a low whisper, his voice sounding like it had been aged in fine whiskey, causing a surge of heat in her body. “I’ve had the most deliciously dirty thoughts about you all day. It made it damn hard for me to focus on anything else.” He pressed against her so she could feel the evidence of his arousal.
Maybe bravado wasn’t the way to go. Maybe she was better off making a joke. “You might want to think about that. You risk putting out your back if you carry me anywhere.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, you and I are going to have a long chat about you making disparaging remarks about yourself.”
When he backed off, Lori wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. She didn’t have long to figure it out as he hauled her against his body, lowered his head and captured her mouth with his. His mouth was soft, seductive, almost sweet at first. Then his lips nibbled hers—persuasive, playful. His hand slid down her back, cupping the globe of her ass as he continued to kiss her.
Lori felt intoxicated, and she hadn’t had anything to drink—but then, nothing alcoholic had ever made her feel this way. She couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her lips. She could feel a shift in him. Gone was the easy-going, laid-back charmer she’d spent time with. In his place was a predatory creature who knew exactly what he wanted: her. His tongue invaded her mouth, sliding against hers in a titillating dance that invited her to play and explore.
She sagged into him, grateful he didn’t back away and let her fall. “Your choice, sweetness. Do we go downstairs and mingle with the conference attendees, or do I strip you out of that dress, take you to that bed, and have my wicked way with you?”
For reasons she might never understand, she laughed—not nervously, but with true mirth. “If you’re casting me as the vestal virgin, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. I haven’t been a virgin in a very long time.” She felt as if she was getting back on safe footing.
“Good to know. Give me a slutty broad any day over a simpering virgin.”
He waggled his eyebrows, making her laugh harder. She reached behind herself and twisted the doorknob, opening the door.
“Damn. And I was so hoping we weren’t going downstairs,” he mock whined, trying to sound pathetic.
Shaking her head, she headed out into the hall and led him to the elevator, where they got in and headed down to the party.
* * *
The party had already started when they entered the ballroom. Ryker led her to the bar, and they ordered drinks. Bourbon neat for him and a mojito for her. They began making the rounds. Ryker was the perfect escort, charming and deferential. Most of the readers were only interested in talking about her books, but the other authors seemed to want her to give them the details of what had happened to Cobain.
“Well, well, well,” said Detective Middleton. “I thought I might find you here, Ms. Sykes, but what are you doing here, McKay?”
“Mostly I’m just here to annoy you,” answered Ryker with a smile.
Lori rolled her eyes. “Ryker and I have mutual friends. He wanted an interview for the paper, and I roped him into being my plus one.”
“Ooh,” Ryker enthused. “I didn’t know there was going to be bondage.”
Middleton all but spit his drink.
“Down boy,” she scolded Ryker. “He’s just giving you a hard time, Detective Middleton. I’m kind of surprised to see you here.”
“Why? Cobain was one of you. This room is filled with other suspects besides you. I thought it might be a good idea to just come and have a look around—see if I could hear or see anything or anyone acting suspiciously.”
“Come on, baby, let’s you and me go and hide the candlestick we hit Cobain with…” said Ryker.
“Cobain wasn’t killed with a candlestick,” growled Middleton. “He was strangled.”
“So, you admit he was murdered,” said Lori.
“I’m not saying that,” stammered Middleton, realizing his mistake. “There is no official word on how Mr. Cobain died.”
“Could that be because you’ve failed to call the MCU or have a proper autopsy done by a forensic pathologist?” challenged Ryker.
Middleton turned on Ryker. “Don’t you go calling your buddies over at MCU. There is nothing official yet, and they don’t need to be involved.”
“Somehow, I don’t think they’d agree with you,” said Ryker.
“Ryker, please,” she said, touching his arm.
“Oh damn. Why did you have to go and ask me so nice? Now I’ll have to stay quiet… for now.”
Middleton looked like he was going to snarl something but thought better of it. “I’m watching you, Ms. Sykes.”
“Understandable,” said Ryker. “I find it very difficult to take my eyes off her.”
Middleton growled something before stomping out.
Lori shook her head. “You shouldn’t bait him like that.”
“But it’s so much fun, and he rises to it so easily.”
They made their way over to an empty table. It took them far longer than it should have as just about every other person they encountered wanted to talk to her about what she’d seen, what she might know, and what the detective had been saying. Finally, they found an inconspicuous table.
“I didn’t know Cobain was that popular,” said Ryker.
“I don’t think he is. His books might be, but most authors didn’t much care for him. Keep in mind we’re mystery and crime writers. Everything…”
“…is grist for the mill,” he finished. “Let me go grab us something to snack on. Anything you don’t like?”
“Mushrooms. The idea of eating something that grows in the dark in horse shit makes my stomach turn.”
He grinned. “My kind of girl.”
Ryker had barely left when Ezra Kane—another mystery author who had two incredibly popular series going—sidled up to her. “I thought he’d never leave.”
“Ezra,” she said measuredly. Lori could never quite decide how she felt about the man. There was something just this side of creepy about him.
“Lori. Please tell me the rumors of Cobain’s death are true.”
“I wouldn’t say rumors; it seems to be pretty common knowledge.”
“True enough. But I’d just like to know you saw the light go out of his cold, reptilian eyes.”
“He was dead by the time I got to him.”
“Do tell. No final words; no last gasping confession of all he’s done wrong?”
Lori turned to stare at him, glad to feel Ryker’s hand on the small of her back as he reached around and placed a small plate covered in delicious-smelling foods on the table.
“The man died, Ezra. I don’t care how much you disliked him, he didn’t deserve that,” said Ryker in an even tone.
“Trust me; if anyone deserved it, he did. You have no idea about all the things Cobain did. This whole room is a veritable hodge podge of people who won’t be shedding any tears at his grave; myself among them. He was a thoroughly detestable man—wildly successful, but a horrible person. He never should have been given the accolades he received.” He stopped for a moment and seemed to spy something on the other side of the room. “Well, I just wanted to check on you. Do ring me up if you hear any juicy gossip.”
Ezra hurried off. “No love lost there,” said Ryker. “Did he upset you? I felt your skin quiver.”
“At the risk of sounding like a heroine in a romance novel, that wasn’t in response to Ezra and his musings.”
“Maybe they were more than musings. But if it wasn’t in response to Ezra, might I dare to hope it was in response to my return and a stirring in your loins?”
Lori almost spit out her drink. It was an outrageous thing to say, but it seemed to lighten her mood, which she suspected was his goal. “Now you sound like a hero from a bad historical romance.”
“I know but answer the question.”
“Yes, to your question, but changing the subject, do you think Kane might be our man?”
“Is he the right size and shape?”
She shook her head. “That’s the problem: I was too far away and at an odd angle to get a real fix on the person’s size, not to mention gender. I just wish that every time I closed my eyes, I didn’t see a replay in my mind.”
Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her close. “It’ll be okay, Lori. We’ll figure it out and see that whoever did it is held responsible.”
“That isn’t really our job…”
He indicated Middleton, who was managing to make an ass of himself across the room. “You want to leave it to him?”
Lori looked from Middleton to Ryker and back again. “When you put it like that, no.”
The cocktail party was starting to wrap up and they were making their way out when Jonathan stalled them, reminding Lori she needed to stay for the annual slide presentation. Ryker smiled and turned her back toward the front of the room where a large projection screen had been pulled down.
As neither of them had been there the year before, watching as the photos came and went was rather dull, especially when, with Ryker’s arm wrapped around her, she was thinking about what the rest of the night might bring.
A photo flashed up, and Lori spotted Cobain. “Ryker, look,” she whispered, trying to point to Cobain without drawing attention to their interest.
Another photo. “And look at Kane.”
“Where?”
“Almost out of frame. The camera is focused on Cobain—clearly the darling of the crowd—but look at the expression on Kane’s face.”
“He is not a happy camper,” said Lori.
“No, he is not.”
Another photo. “Who’s that?” asked Lori, indicating a woman standing next to a display of vintage typewriters, beaming up at Cobain.
“I don’t know. She looks vaguely familiar, like maybe she lives in the area, but I don’t know her name.”
Jonathan moved up to stand beside them. “It was a good party. I think we got some nice pictures of both of you. I’m so glad you decided to join us, Ryker.”
“Thank you for having me, Jonathan. If you don’t mind, I’d like to see that Lori gets back to her room. We don’t want a repeat of last night, now do we?”
“No, indeed we do not,” agreed Jonathan. “Thank you for looking after her. I’m hoping it won’t dissuade her from joining us next year.”
“If I’m invited, I am most definitely coming.”
Taking her hand in his, he led her out of the room and into the elevator.
“What I’d really like is for you to come back with me to my room and take you up on your earlier offer,” she said. “I want to lose myself in you.”
Ryker grinned, “I think I can arrange that.”
When they reached Lori’s floor, they’d barely stepped off the elevator when Ryker swung her up in his arms and headed to her room, Lori laughing the entire way.