Chapter 22 #2
“Rick?” she called. Joell sprinted through the lobby, checking conference rooms and searching the sea of faces. How could she lose a six-foot Cupid with a goatee and quiver of arrows? Something was wrong.
“Damn, not another one!”
“You’ve been staring at that cup of coffee for twenty minutes,” Crystal said.
“I know. My scrying sense is really on the fritz. I can’t see a damn—” Joell’s posture straightened. “Wait a minute…”
Crowe had been in her lap, but wanted to see too, so he jumped up on the table and turned to look into the mug. That’s when he saw him, standing right behind her.
“Wow! He’s wearing an eye patch. I can’t tell what else he’s wearing, but damn, he’s smokin’ hot.”
“Really?” Crystal asked casually.
“I hope that doesn’t mean they’ve done something to his sexy, brown eyes. That would be a terrible shame, and one I’d have to make them pay for. Now I just need to get a fix on the background, if I can take my eyes off the handsome foreground.”
Joell was going to hate herself when she realized Rick was listening to every word. His grin grew until he slapped a hand over his mouth and backed away, probably to keep from laughing.
“Well, he must not be in danger. He was smiling a second ago. Have you noticed his straight, white teeth against his tan face when he smiles?”
Crystal bit her lip. She and Stan looked as if they were about to burst out laughing. Crowe wondered what he should do. Meow? Nudge her until she looks up? Or would she shoot the messenger? He just sat and waited quietly.
Rick reached out and placed a hand on Joell’s shoulder, causing her to jump and whirl around.
“What the—” As soon as she saw him, she leaped out of her chair and smacked him upside the head. His long hair flopped to one side, but he was laughing so hard, obviously no harm had come to him… yet.
“You had me worried sick! I thought we had a ninth victim. Where the hell were you?”
“Changing my costume, or didn’t you notice my smokin’ hot eye patch?”
She hit him a couple more times on the arm as he, Stan Gold, and Crystal laughed loudly. “Hey, be careful not to bruise me! I have to compete in something skimpy.”
Then Stan’s cell phone rang. The group fell silent while he answered it.
“Gold.” His eyebrows shot up, and he reached into his breast pocket for a pad of paper and a pen. “Where?”
He scribbled something down, looked at Rick, and handed him the paper. “Do you know where this is?”
“Yeah, it’s about thirty minutes from here in good traffic.”
Gold spoke to the caller, asking him to wait at least an hour, thanked him, then hung up.
“What’s that address?” Joell asked before he could volunteer the information.
“That’s the pharmacy. Gabriel’s doctor was asked to call in a replacement prescription.”
Rick said, “I’ll change into my jeans and t-shirt and get right over there.” He headed for the elevator.
“Whoa. I’m coming too,” Joell called after him.
She grabbed Crowe by the scruff of the neck, plopped him back into her Louis Vuitton, and ran after him.
“No, it’s too dangerous.” He pushed the up button a few more times than necessary.
Joell jammed her hands on her waist, sending the slinky red dress swishing. “What do you think I am? Helpless?”
“You’re wearing a dress. I’m riding a Harley.”
“And?”
Oh wonderful. Rick was about to find out what arguing with a brick wall would feel like. The elevator arrived, and the doors whooshed open.
“Stay here,” he said, “I’ll be right back.”
“Ha. If you think I’m falling for that, you continue to underestimate me.” She stepped into the elevator at the same time he did.
They eyed each other as they rode to his floor. No glares this time. Crowe sensed some curiosity on both sides, as if trying to size up the other. It was more than that, though. The tension had changed. No longer posturing for dominance, one would almost think they were ready to cooperate.
“So, are you going to follow me into the bathroom while I change too?”
One side of Joell’s mouth rose, and she looked as if she might be picturing the possibilities.
“No need to leave the room on my account.”
Obviously, Crowe was missing something here. Like the throwing down of some sort of gauntlet. What is a gauntlet anyway? If it’s an article of clothing I wouldn’t be surprised to see these two throwing theirs off into a pile on the floor.
When they arrived at Rick’s room, and he opened the door, Crowe noticed a big difference between this room and those of the “real” models.
The small room felt claustrophobic. One double bed took up most of the room, and a dresser filled the rest. He didn’t even have a small table and chair set in a corner, as so many rooms do.
Ah, New York. So much money. So little space.
Joell plopped onto the bed, then reclined, bracing herself on her elbows. At least the maid had been there, so it was neat, and the linen smelled fresh. Rick reached into the dresser drawer and grabbed his jeans and a T-shirt.
Hesitating at the bathroom door, he looked at Joell with a saucy smile and said, “Sure you don’t want to come in with me?”
“Why? Do you need help with something?”
It was at that moment that Crowe noticed the huge bulge in his black pirate breeches. His witch had probably spotted it long before he did.
He chuckled. “Ah, there she is.”
“Pardon me?”
“The sassy, insulting woman I met yesterday. I was wondering where she went.”
Joell fell silent for a few seconds. In a soft voice, she asked, “Was I really insulting? I’m sorry. Sassy, yes. Speaking my mind is sort of my thing, but I know how it feels to be outright insulted. I didn’t mean to—”
“Forget it.” Rick lowered his zipper and kicked off his shoes.
Joell’s eyes grew large as the undercover cop stripped in front of her. His eyes never strayed from hers. Most women would turn away to offer the man some privacy, but not this witch. His falling breeches revealed a gun strapped to his thigh.
“I wondered where you hid that thing.”
He glanced down at his torso. “Which thing would that be?” The grin forming on his face showed he knew damn well what she was talking about, but his question focused attention on his other…
er, thing. To Crowe’s amazement, her face reddened, and her gaze dropped to her lap while Rick quietly removed his weapon—the one with the strap—and set it on the floor.
Wearing only his underwear, socks, and unbuttoned shirt, he sat next to her and cupped her chin. “Who hurt you?”
“Pardon me?”
“Someone must have done a number on you. Women aren’t usually so defensive unless they’ve had to defend themselves.”
She shrugged. “I guess I’ve always had to defend myself because I’ve always been a little bit different. It doesn’t even matter if you’re different in a good way. Some people find it threatening and try to make you feel like a freak.”
“They’re jealous of you.”
“Maybe.”
“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it. Look at you. You’re strong, smart, and deliciously sexy. There are plenty of women with fine qualities, but how many have the whole package like you do? Very few. How many would like to have it? All of them. Trust me, they’re jealous.”
She looked into his eyes and held his gaze until he leaned in. It was apparent he meant to kiss her. Crowe knew his witch would never allow that. She’s far too professional to get involved with a man while work—