In Deep Shitake (A Humorous Romantic Suspense) (19 page)

Chapter Nine

“That was so not my fault,” Mo shouted to Ross from a few feet behind him.

Ross knew she had to run hard to keep up with his furious stride through the convention center parking lot, but he didn't care. Hot rage consumed him, just as hot as the lust that had flared in that bathroom stall.

And while he hadn’t lost his temper at Mo, he knew she read his brooding behavior as silent castigation.

He was being loutish and he knew his behavior resulted from anger. Not only at Mo,
but
at
himself
. How could he have placed himself into a position so foolish? There were bound to be repercussions when those photos hit the media. Not to mention the story of Ross Grant being thrown out of the city’s convention center. At minimum, his actions would appear as if he’d cheated on his fiancée. He could practically see Heather’s performance as the wounded party.

“You’re being very unfair about this, Ross,” Mo called again.

He tried to ignore the twinge of guilt he felt at her words. Worse than the negative publicity this whole thing might generate, was the fact that for the first time he’d allowed passion to rule logic and had succumbed to temptation. Ross usually had complete control. He prided himself on making every decision based on reason. He had never let a body part other than his brain do his thinking before. Looking like an infatuated idiot was not something he could easily laugh off.

“In the spectrum of completely blameless to guilty as hell, with blameless being a rating of one, I am a negative one-hundred,” Mo tried to joke.

He wanted to laugh, but he beat down the feeling mercilessly. Mo was completely wrong for him so why did she feel so right? It wasn’t as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world in an objectively assessable way. And he’d always preferred green-eyed blondes. But Mo, with her chocolate brown eyes, dark hair, slightly crooked nose and too wide mouth, affected him like no other woman. She somehow had a beauty, even when hiding in a clown outfit, which pulled at him. And now she had the power to jerk at his insides at will. He didn’t enjoy that feeling in the slightest.

“Neither one of
us
are to blame," she continued. "If we need to blame someone else, how about Milton?”

Ross didn’t break stride and refused to answer.

Taking his silence as an answer, she said, “No, you’re right. He’s too easy to blame. We need someone else.”

When they’d been in that bathroom stall together, Mo had overwhelmed his senses. The touch of her lush body against his, the patchouli fragrance of her soft white skin, the handful of freckles across her nose which were only visible up close, but close enough to drink from her full, pink lips. Bloody hell, he found himself affected by the memory alone.

“We should both blame Leo. It’s really his fault, if you think about it.” She caught up with Ross as he reached the Mercedes. “Blaming Leo for breaking things worked when I was a kid. It could work this time, too.”

He almost melted. “I shall drop you at your office and we needn’t see each other again,” he said with as much coldness as he could muster.

His comment produced a glare from Mo. “Oh you
shall?
” She said mimicking his accent. “I see his Royal Highness the King of Jerks has made a reappearance.”

 Opening the passenger side door, Ross waited for her to climb in. She stood stubbornly, her arms crossed over her chest as she continued to stare him down.

“If you’re expecting me to curtsey or something you’re about to be disappointed,” she said with a pout.

“I just want to get in the
sodding
car,” he growled. "We need to crack on."

“What about Clarence? What about Heather? And what about Heather with Clarence?” Mo asked. “Don’t you want to know what’s going on?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because the ‘finding out’ has been disastrous,” he said.

“I don’t understand you.”

“Fortunately, you don’t have to understand. Get in the car." He waved an arm toward the opening. "The sooner I’m out of your blasted presence, the better.”

Blinking rapidly, Mo visibly gulped before returning to a belligerent expression. “At least tell me the address Clarence gave. I’ll investigate the situation on my own.”

What harm could it do? Divulging the address wouldn’t continue the ties between them. He’d still be free to proceed with the pre-production planning for his film with no Imogene Tuttle anywhere in the picture. “The address was 528 Gaston.”

Mo blanched. She swayed for a moment and then her knees started to buckle. Oh Lord, she was going to faint.

Ross grabbed a hold of her arms. “Mo?”

Her legs steadied and she pulled away.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“That’s my address.”

It seemed the connection had survived his attempt to cut it, because he felt a distinct tug at his heart. “Oh, love.” He started to reach for her to ease her distress.

This time she couldn’t jump in the car fast enough. “Let’s go.”

* * * * *

Now it was Mo’s turn to be silent and brooding. Ross had been unable to coax any response with his reassuring platitudes. She only spoke to provide him terse and concisely worded directions to her home. Ross had never before fully understood the phrase that described someone as being ‘perched on the edge of their seat’ until now. Mo seemed ready to fly the instant they reached their destination.

What would they find at Mo’s house? Had Clarence's contact already been and gone? Would ‘whoever’ still be at the house? Would they have come at all?

Driving as fast as he could over un-familiar terrain and avoiding as many red lights as possible, Ross pulled the car to a stop barely ten minutes later. Mo threw open the door and, with a hand on her arm, Ross restrained her from jumping out. She started as if she’d forgotten him beside her in the car.

“Don’t go in there alone. I’ve called the police. We should wait for them to arrive.”

“You wait here if you want. I’m going in.” Mo tugged her arm away and then leapt from the car as Ross unfastened his seat belt.

“Bloody woman,” Ross grumbled as he climbed out of the car to chase after her. “You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

Mo made it to the porch and then up the stairs to the front door before Ross could even cross the street. He followed her up the stairs. She had stopped at the door, which stood ajar.

“I don’t suppose you left it open.”

“No.” She gulped and slowly pushed the door inward.

Mo took a tentative step inside and Ross pulled her back.

“If we’re going in, let me go first.”
That’s right. Be a hero, Ross.
He’d seen enough movies to know entering the house was a stupid action for a character to take. He didn’t know what he would do if they came face-to-face with a bad guy. He’d probably get pummeled for the second time today.
Pummeled or worse.

But when Mo smiled at him gratefully, Ross felt certain that whatever happened would be worth it.

Ross crept forward with Mo behind him. There were no lights on. Afternoon had turned to dusk preventing him from seeing anything in the shadowed hall.

A front parlor room was located to the right. He saw no one in the room now, but the cushions that had been swept from the sofa and chairs signaled that someone had definitely been there.

As they stepped over the threshold, Ross stared down at the mess before them. A lamp, a vase and picture frames—some broken—were scattered across the floor. Papers were tossed about. Mo was either a terrible housekeeper or the place had been ransacked. He hoped for the former. He didn't want to think her house had been burgled.

“You probably didn’t leave it in this state this morning, did you?”

“No,” she said.

Mo came around from behind him, picked up a floor lamp, and switched it on. She frantically darted about the room, looking this way and that. She strode into the next room and made another quick scan. Ross followed and saw several dining chairs from the table at the center of the room had been knocked on their sides. Mo brushed past him to stride to the next room.

“Mo, wait! We don’t know if someone is still here,” Ross called, trotting after her. When he reached the door of the kitchen, she had turned back, and almost slammed into him. She pushed past with a surprisingly strong shove.

“Get out of my way. I’ve got to look upstairs.”

Mo ran down the hall and then up the stairs. Ross chased after her. The second floor rooms were in a condition similar to the parlor. Items were tossed about and broken, papers scattered, and furniture flung around. With each succeeding room, Mo became more and more distressed looking over and under furniture.

Fortunately, they didn't meet up with the burglar.

They finally ended up back in the parlor. Mo’s movements were twitchy as she paced with her arms wrapped around herself.

Ross tried to pull her into his arms, but she wouldn’t allow the embrace and jerked away.

“I know it must be upsetting, but we can get all these things replaced. It’ll be okay,” Ross said in his gentlest tone.

 “You don’t understand,” she cried. “I don’t care about any of these
things
.” She spat the last word. “They can destroy every
thing
I own. I just want my baby.”

“Your what?” She had a baby? Ross thought back quickly. He didn’t think he’d seen a nursery anywhere in the house.

Mo rushed to the corner of the room and then looked under the sofa. “Talley, Talley,” she cried. “Baby kitty. Come to Mommy.”

Oh that kind of baby.

Ross joined in the search. They walked through the house more slowly this time and examined every nook and cranny. Nothing. Mo became increasingly hysterical as they checked first in this cranny then that nook and didn’t find her cat. She went outside to call for Talley from the porch and then descended the steps to the sidewalk in front of the house. When they'd exhausted their search, she collapsed to sit on the steps.

“Oh, Ross, what am I going to do? He’s nowhere in the house. He probably ran outside when… when whoever did this was still here.”

Ross placed an arm around her shoulder and she turned into him, hiding her face against his chest.

“It’ll be okay, love. He’s probably hiding. He’ll come out when things calm down,” he soothed. Ross hugged her tightly to him. Her face was wet with tears.

“I’m soaking your chest,” she said, wiping at the fabric of his dress shirt.

A distinct tingle radiated from the skin-to-skin contact. He suppressed the urge to press it further. This hug was all about comforting Mo, not about his urges. Anyway, he shouldn’t have any urges. Hadn’t he decided less than an hour ago to suppress his feelings toward Mo?

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, patting her hand partly to console her and partly to stop her from the stroking that gave him those dastardly urges.

“I know I’m being ridiculous, but Talley isn’t an outdoor cat. If he got outside, he could get hurt. An alligator could get him.”

Ross had heard about the extremely infrequent alligator sightings in downtown Savannah. Should he point out that her emotional concerns were probably unfounded? The cat would come out of hiding and come home in time. She only needed to wait. However, it felt wrong to try that type of reasoning with a hysterical Mo.