Desperate Measures (8 page)

She was silent for a moment, then said, “Well, I
was just wondering how you made out with your uncle. He was so nice to me, and I’ve been feeling so bad for him, knowing he’d probably be very upset when he found out about Mario.”

Joe tried to suppress his disappointment. Her polite curiosity about Uncle Thomas was natural and normal. Dammit. Still, he couldn’t expect anything else. She’d been so hurt in the past, she would keep herself as barricaded as possible. He ought to be glad of any kind of offering from her.

“Uncle Thomas is just fine now,” he said, remembering his uncle’s initial shock at his warning. And all Joe had been able to do was warn. He still had no proof of Mario’s treachery. Fortunately, Thomas had already been upset that Mario hadn’t taken his own mother to the show. Evidently that breach of family etiquette had offended the older man and made him wonder. Joe had said something to his cousin Jamie and sister Carol too.

“I’m glad about Uncle Thomas,” Ellen said. “Well, I suppose that’s that with your problem.”

“I wish,” Joe said.

“Oh?”

He decided it must be his imagination that he heard an eagerness behind the “oh.” He continued. “A few other things have come up. I know I promised one time only, but I’ve been wondering if I could impose on you again.…”

“Well-l-l-l … I suppose one more time wouldn’t hurt. I mean, if you really need my help. We never did find that person I saw with Mario at the rink. Is Mario meeting with him again? Is that the problem?”

“Mmmm,” Joe murmured noncommittally, trying
not to lie outright. He sensed, too, that anything other than a need for her help would result in “Adios, so long, au revoir,” and other forms of good-bye. “I … well, let’s just say I have my suspicions.”

“In Atlantic City again?”

“Okay.” Atlantic City had its advantages, he thought. And she seemed to like it there. “Ah … it’s tonight. Later than the last time, I think. How about if I pick you up as soon as I can get out of here, and I’ll explain it all to you then, okay?”

A long silence answered him.

“Ell?”

“Okay.”

When he hung up a minute later, he knew his smile had to be nearly splitting his face. He promised himself he would feel guilty later, and he turned around. Terry was staring at him in clear puzzlement.

“I’ll have all of this taken care of, Terry,” he said. “No problem.”

Mario would survive the spice fiasco, Joe thought as he headed for his cousin’s office. Just barely would Mario survive this.

Fortunately for his treacherous cousin, Joe was now in a very good mood.

Ellen had called.

She still couldn’t believe she had done it.

Ellen again gazed around the Palace Casino, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Joe’s smile of pure pleasure. She battled back a wave of anxiety, thinking of how quickly she’d lost her
internal struggle over him. After a long drive to nowhere that afternoon, she had really thought she’d brought all her frustration under control. She had done a lot of soul-searching … and remembering. And she’d been quite relaxed returning up the long driveway to her grandmother’s fieldstone mansion. Until she stepped out of the car. Before she knew it, she was in the kitchen, dialing as if she were a madwoman. Maybe she was. What her grandmother had had to say about a second, even more sudden, trip to Atlantic City was unrepeatable.

Ellen resisted the urge to giggle. Poor Lettice.

She sobered when someone jostled her against Joe. An overwhelming urge to melt into his hard warmth rose in her, and she fought against it, finally straightening.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

Joe dipped his head, but didn’t look her way. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or hurt that he had no reaction to her closeness. Neither way helped her current dilemma.

The problem really wasn’t that she had made the call, she acknowledged. Any concerned person would have, especially after meeting innocent Uncle Thomas. But one little suggestion of further help, and she had thrown herself right into it again. If Joe had declined her new offer, she probably would have rushed down to his office and pinned him to his desk until he’d agreed.

Suddenly her brain conjured a vivid image of her and Joe utilizing the desktop in quite a different fashion. His hands skimming over her body …

“Help me, Lord,” she muttered under her breath, as she desperately erased the mental picture.

“Beg pardon?” Joe asked.

“I suppose we should start looking around,” she said, putting on a bright smile. What was it about Joe that made her forget everything?

Joe frowned at her. “For wha— Oh, for Mario and the man, you mean.”

She nodded, wondering where his brain was. Not with hers, she hoped. Slipping gratefully into the role of spy once again, she asked, “Got any impulses, Robinson?”

He grinned at her, and she instantly felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

“For finding two men this time,” she clarified, glaring at him.

“Just wander around and look,” he said.

“We could always try another page.”

He laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I don’t think Mario would fall for it twice, do you?”

“Probably not.”

“Well, we’d better look around.”

As they made their way past the various gambling tables. Ellen tried not to notice Joe’s fingers casually wrapped around her elbow. It was a simple gesture of male courtesy. And it also was igniting her attraction to Joe to a new high, for his hand brushed the side of her breast once, twice, three times through her silk blouse. Her breasts ached, and her mind traitorously dredged up more images of his strong fingers igniting more than attraction within her. Her heart reveled in the knowledge that they were alone.…

Ellen gritted her teeth and forced herself to put
more space between them. She was in big trouble if she thought that wandering through a mobbed casino was “alone.” She must be nuts. Where, she wondered frantically, was her common sense? Probably out to lunch with the rest of her brain. She had to get a grip on herself. She knew more than most the unexpected ways life could hurt. She couldn’t pay the price again. She wouldn’t survive it.

She decided to quit torturing herself. Okay, so she’d made a little mistake. Now that she was here, she ought to forget it and just concentrate on helping Joe stop his cousin. And she should definitely stop this … daydreaming like a schoolgirl at a man’s touch. In fact, she ought to be feeling justified about getting reinvolved with Joe and his problem, especially after what he had told her about the oregano. Mario had to be caught and stopped. Still, there must be a better way to go about it than hanging onto Joe the entire time.

“I think we should split up,” she said briskly, “so we can cover more territory.”

“But how would we find each other again?” Joe asked, looking at her in puzzlement. “This place is bigger than the Taj Mahal.”

“Well—”

“What if you found them when I’m not with you?” he added. “By the time you found me, they could be long gone. Or if I were to see them without you, how would I know if it’s the same man from the rink? You said the guy was average. Hell, that’s just about everybody.”

“But we might spot him sooner this time if we split up,” she said lamely.

“Maybe,” he conceded. “But that’s about all we’d do. You’re making me wonder if you’re playing the impulsive spy this time.”

She shrugged. “I just thought you should have a crack at being Bill Cosby.”

“Very generous of you,” he said, rubbing her arm and sending sensual sparks to every corner of her body. “But I like things just the way they are. Look, if we don’t find them by eleven, why don’t we just relax and do a little gambling in earnest? I hate losing for Mario’s sake. Anyway, it’s a shame to be at the shore and not even take a look at the ocean, especially at night with the moonlight glowing on the waves.…”

Ellen nearly moaned. He was driving her crazy.

And she had the feeling she would love every minute of it.

Eleven o’clock couldn’t come soon enough, Joe thought, glancing impatiently at his watch again. Twenty more endless minutes until he could finally call a halt to this farce of searching every nook and cranny for a nonexistent meeting. Then he and Ellen could enjoy themselves.

He glanced at the woman beside him and felt guilty yet again that they were here on a wild-goose chase. When confronted with the bad oregano, Mario had made a very affecting plea, which even Joe couldn’t poke a hole into, of innocently experimenting with new cost-effective sources. Joe knew that right this minute his cousin was in his office, straightening out the mess and preparing a report. Joe smiled, thinking of that report. Since
Mario was so eager to save the company money, Joe had decided a thorough investigation on the subject was in order and volunteered Mario to do the job.

As Ellen’s subtle and highly sensual perfume teased his senses, Joe admitted he didn’t feel
that
guilty for lying. He glanced at her, studying every curve of her body. Her tantalizing breasts, small yet perfectly shaped; the slender indentation of her waist; her long, graceful back as it flowed into her rounded hips. He didn’t have to put his hands on her to know those spots intimately. His imagination had played with them from the moment she had gotten into the car.

She sighed. “Are you sure Mario was supposed to be here tonight?”

“Yes, that was what I … understood. Don’t worry about it, Ell. It’s not the end of the world if we can’t find Mario this time. It’s almost eleven anyway, so why don’t we enjoy ourselves? I’m sure even the pros would say we were entitled.”

Although her mouth pursed as if she were unsure, he could see a hint of anticipation in her eyes.

Without a word, he guided her toward the boardwalk exit. He resisted the urge to caress his fingers along the satin flesh of her arm. They’d never get out of here if he did.

“Where are we going?” she asked, taking nearly two steps to each one of his brisk strides.

“To look at some fish,” he said, steering her through the gamblers.

“Fish?”

“You know. A few scales, a couple of fins, and a glassy stare.”

“Okay,” she said, clearly humoring him. “As long as they don’t have great big jaws.”

“Not a single great big jaw.”

They had no sooner stepped out onto the board-walk when Ellen pulled back. Joe turned around.

“What?” he asked.

“I don’t think I want to look at some fish, Joe.”

He smiled in challenge. Dammit, he’d get her to take a stroll on the boardwalk if he had to carry her.

“What’s the problem with fish, Ell?”

“They smell.”

He glared at her through the gloom of the erratic street lighting. “Now that you’ve taken any romance out of the evening, you can relax.”

“As long as we understand each other.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or get angry all over again when she really did relax. He finally settled for a silent chuckle. In a way, it was kind of nice to be thought of as a sex maniac ready to hustle her into the nearest bed. At least it meant she was thinking about him in physical terms.

He bowed and waved his hand with a flourish. “After you, my friend.”

She eyed him for a long moment, then began to walk.

“At last,” he muttered as he strode, without touching, beside her. Not touching her did nothing to stifle his awareness of her. He sensed that she, too, was aware of him.

Only a few people were strolling the boardwalk at this hour of the night, and Joe didn’t plan to
go far from the casino entrance. The sky was clear enough to see the stars, although the half-moon played peekaboo with several lazily drifting clouds. In the distance, the waves lapped one after the other against the wet sand. The breeze coming off the Atlantic was fresh and clean and cool.

They stopped by the railing and gazed out over the water. Ellen lifted her face, as if scenting the air like a wary doe. “I’d almost forgotten,” she murmured.

“What did you forget?” Joe asked quietly, leaning his elbows on the rail.

“How soothing the ocean could be.”

He smiled at the contentment in her voice. The distance between their bodies was inches, and yet they might as well have been miles apart. He shouldn’t touch her, he thought. She wasn’t ready. That she was actually standing alone with him was enough.

He gritted his teeth as her skirt fluttered against his legs. So close …

She turned around and leaned back against the railing. His internal conflict mounted at an alarming rate, for her stance thrust her breasts outward just a hand span away. He closed his eyes and decided she was torturing him. Somehow she had found out that he had brought her here under false pretenses and had set out to torture him in revenge. She was damn good at it too.

“Thank you, Joe.”

He opened his eyes and turned his head. She was gazing at him, a slight smile playing around her lips.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice raspy with the need that was overtaking him.

She turned to look back at the glittering casino on the other side of the boardwalk.

She was killing him, and she didn’t even know it. The hell with it, he thought, giving up the fight. One kiss. Just a taste of her was all he wanted, to confirm the kind of attraction that existed between them. He’d deal with any consequences later.

Suddenly, she gripped his arm, throwing him off balance.

“It’s him!”

“What?”

She glanced at him sharply. “The man from the rink! The reason we’re here. It’s him!”

“But it can’t be!” Joe exclaimed, his gaze sweeping the boardwalk. Nobody leaped out as distinctive to him.

“Of course it can!” she said in exasperation, pointing toward their left. “Over there. In the white windbreaker.”

“But, but—”

She tugged on his arm, pulling him with her. “I’m almost positive it’s the same man. I better get closer, just to be sure.”

Joe had no choice but to allow himself to be dragged along with her at a near run. It couldn’t be, he thought. Mario was back in Philadelphia, loaded with paperwork. He’d seen to that himself. Nobody was supposed to be here, dammit! She must have spotted someone who looked like the man at the rink. That shouldn’t be hard to do, either. She had said he was “average.”