Worst Date Ever (Scandals #3) (14 page)

Although, since he was such a lady’s man, Cody had probably already laughed it off and moved on to the next conquest.  It probably wouldn’t bother him at all to sit next to me in front of his computer…but I had a feeling it would bother me very much.

“I’ll call him now and see if we can arrange to get started today,” Christopher said.

“Excuse me, team.” Pam entered the room carrying a vase full of blood red roses.  She set them on the table in front of me and handed me the card.  “These are for you, Tulsa.”

I felt my face flush.  This was the first time I had ever received flowers...ever.  I tried to ignore the rush of excitement at the thought that Cody cared enough to send them to me.  My fingers stroked the small white envelope with my name printed neatly on it.  I slid my finger under the flap, opened it and pulled out the note.  It was typewritten and not signed.  My heart jumped into my throat as I read it.

“Alright Tulsa…share,” Killeen teased.

I could see the small card shaking uncontrollably.

“Look, if it’s personal, that’s okay,” Christopher offered.

“Oh, it’s personal…but not like you’re thinking.”  I dropped the card as if it was a hot potato.  It fell open and everyone crowded around to read it. 

“
I told you to drop the case.  Next time it won’t be the tires, Tulsa.”

Christopher picked up his cell phone and punched in a number with a little more fierceness than usual.  “Brad, where the hell are you?  I thought you were on your way.”  He listened for a second, then added, “There’s another note, this time with a delivery of flowers.”  He listened again.  “Yes, I know.  No one’s going to touch it again.”  Christopher ended the call and immediately dialed in the number of the florist that was on the back of the envelope.  This time he walked into the hallway to have the conversation.

Liberty and Killeen both reached out and patted my arm.  It was hokey, but I appreciated their concern because I knew it was sincere.  In such a very short time, we had all bonded, not just through our shared heredity, but because of the danger and the importance of the work we were doing.

“I’m sure it wasn’t from Cody,” Liberty tried to make me feel better.

“No, it’s from the same person as last night.”  I was ashamed that my voice broke.  This was upsetting me more than I would have guessed.  I thought I was tougher than that.  It wasn’t the first time I had been threatened, but this was so personal and deadly.

Christopher returned.  “It was ordered by computer and the florist shop just printed out the card from the order.  They said they don’t pay any attention to the cards because they’re used to people writing weird things to each other.  Oh, and the person paid with a gift card, which is, completely untraceable.”

I suddenly remembered the synthesized call I had gotten several days ago when Liberty and I were driving home.  “Someone knows my schedule better than I do,” I commented nervously.

“I’m thinking Michael’s bill is going to go up if we have to hire a body guard for you,” Christopher commented.  “Better yet, maybe this is a case we should walk away from.”

I straightened in my chair.  “Are you kidding?  We can’t let him get away with this.  I must be getting really close for him to be this desperate.”

“It’s not worth you getting hurt…or worse,” Killeen said.

I wasn’t too thrilled at that prospect either.  “Just let me know what Cody says when you…”

“There was another knock on the conference room door and Pam entered carrying a beautiful crystal vase filled with white tulips.  Without a word, she gingerly set them in front of me.  We could all see my name on the card.

We leaned away from it and glanced at each other warily.  No one really wanted to touch it.

“Should we wait for Brad to get here?” Killeen asked.

Christopher nodded.  “Good idea.” 

As if we choreographed it, we scooted our chairs back, putting more distance between us and the beautiful flowers.  No one said a word for the next ten minutes until Pam escorted Brad Lang, Christopher’s APD detective buddy, into the room.

“So, what’s going on?” he asked.

We all burst out then, rattling off the story, talking over each other in our eagerness to fill him in.  He lifted his hand to ward off the verbal barrage. 

“Whoa, one person at a time,” he said.  Without touching it, he glanced at the envelope on the table.  “Which one of you is Tulsa?”

“I am.”  I took a deep, steadying breath and told him the whole story from the beginning.  Of course, I skipped over the near seduction part.  I ended with a wave toward the tulips.  “And then these just got delivered.  None of us has touched them.”

“I doubt there are going to be any fingerprints,” he said as he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.  “But I’ll take these back and have them tested.

Christopher had retrieved the first note and envelope from my car, holding them with a pair of needle-nosed pliers.

Brad picked them up and examined the note, then put both it and the envelop into an evidence bag.  He turned his attention to the note that came with the roses, read it and then, like the first, placed it and the envelope into another evidence bag.  We all watched as he took the third note off the ribbon of the tulip arrangement.  Carefully, he opened it and read it aloud.

“Sorry I was such an ass.  Please give me a second chance,”
he read aloud, then looked up at me, his eyebrows arched.

“Oh…that may not be my stalker.  I mean…that’s probably from Cody,” I stammered.  Now I felt ridiculous.  The tulips were beautiful, and we had all assumed the worst.

“You’re sure they’re not related?” Brad persisted.

“Pretty sure,” I answered, then quickly added, “No,
very
sure.  It was sort of a date gone wrong.”

“Hmm…I guess we’ve all had those,” the detective chuckled.  He handed me the note and the envelope, both of which were handwritten in a sprawling masculine half cursive/half print.

“Now you have a good excuse to call him,” Christopher suggested.

“Yes…I’ll do that.”  I picked up the vase with the tulips.  “Did you need me for anything else?” I asked Brad.

“Nah, I know where to find you if I have more questions,” he answered, busy writing notes on his tablet.

I fled the room, went to my office and closed the door.  I needed to have all my wits about me when I made the call.  I placed the vase on my desk and smiled.  So, I had gotten two flower deliveries today…another first.  But this one was special because it was from Cody…especially because it proved he didn’t hate me.

I looked his number up from the list Michael had given me, then picked up my cell phone.  I punched in a couple numbers, then hung up and put my phone down on my desk. 

I hadn’t been this nervous since I put my first computer together and plugged it in, not knowing whether or not it would blow up or short out the circuit board.  I counted to ten, took a deep breath, then started over.  I was on the last number when my phone rang, startling me so much that I almost dropped it.

“Hello,” I answered.

“Hey, Tulsa.  It’s Cody.”

My silly heart did a little flip flop at the sound of his voice.  I forced myself to play it cool and see what he had to say first.  “Oh, hi, Cody.  Thanks for the tulips.”

“The florist said white tulips are for forgiveness.” 
He was quiet for a moment.
  “I figured I would need all the help I could get after last night.”

I admit I was touched by the admission he had put some thought into the selection of the flowers rather than just ordering something on-line.  “They’re really beautiful.”

“I was afraid you might think I treat these mixers like a booty call.” 
Again, an awkward silence.
“I’m sorry if I rushed things.  It just went from zero to seventy in seconds.”

I guessed that was probably a NASCAR reference.  I felt a pang of guilt at deceiving him.  Someday I’d come clean and admit that I knew absolutely nothing about cars…fast ones, slow ones or ones that race in circles.  “I was about to call you,” I admitted.  “I don’t know what happened last night either.”  Which was totally true.  I had planned on checking out his apartment, but having sex with him had not been on the agenda.

“I had a good time before…well, you know.  Is there any chance we could give it another shot?”

“I’d like that.”

“Great.  How about tonight?  Dinner?”

“Sure.”  I fluctuated between telling him I had a business proposition for him or waiting until we had a couple drinks under our belt.  I decided this whole crazy case would probably make more sense if I explained it in person, so I didn’t mention it.  “What time and where?”

“Any preferences?”

“I’m good for anything.  Surprise me.”

“Do you like spicy?”

“Love it.  Remember, I came from Oklahoma, and the food’s pretty bland there.”

“Then I have the perfect place in mind.  Ever hear of Fonda San Miguel?”

“No.”

“It always makes the top ten lists.  Great Tex-Mex. I’ll text you the address.  Or I could pick you up…”

“I’ll meet you there,” I hurried to answer.

“How about seven?”

“Works for me.”

“I have to work tomorrow, so it won’t be a late night.”

I knew that was his way of saying there wouldn’t be a repeat performance of what almost happened last night.  “See you then.  And thanks again for the flowers.”

“I’m glad you didn’t throw them out.  See you at seven.”

The phone disconnected and seconds later an address and a smiley face came through as a text message.  It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t told him where I worked.  I had kept my profile intentionally vague in the career area, alluding toward the marketing and consulting story Michael and I had agreed on.  But then it dawned on me…Cody knew his way around a computer search engine.  It had probably taken him less than a minute to Google me and find out all about the agency, my father and the whole crazy story.  Oh well, that would save me a lot of small talk to get the conversation to the case at hand.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I was just about to leave when my phone rang again.  I glanced down and saw it was Cody.

“Hi,” I answered.

“Hey, change of plans.  I called for reservations, and some kind of private party booked the entire restaurant.  Now don’t think I’m trying to pull something, but why don’t you meet me at my place, and we’ll talk about options?”

I hesitated for a moment.  He could be setting me up for a repeat of the night before, or he could be sincere.  I chose to believe the latter.  “Okay.  I was about to leave.”

“Come on up.  Use the code 7-2-9-9 and that will get you inside the building…okay?”

“See you in a few.”  I parked in a lot across the street, a little gun shy about the building’s lot.  I walked quickly to the front door, entered the code and when the door clicked, I pulled it open and went inside.  An elevator quickly took me up to the fourteenth floor.  As the doors slid open, I felt another rush of nerves.  I hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed, because I wasn’t wearing the layer of makeup I had had on last night, and my hair was back to its regular shaggy style.  I headed for his apartment door, wondering if he had a security camera on me.  I lifted my hand to knock when the door swept opened.

“Well hi.  It’s Tulsa, isn’t it?  Good to see you again.”

Amanda stood in the doorway dressed in tight black yoga pants and a hot pink sports bra.  She carried a clear plastic bag full of white powder.  By the dusting that was splashed randomly across her ample chest and smeared across her cheek, I assumed it was flour.

“Uh, it’s good to see you, too…Amanda.  Baking tonight?”  I tried not to stare at her white-frosted nipples that were pressing out against the cotton fabric or the obvious camel toe displayed by the yoga pants.

“On no!  Don’t tell me I made Cody late for his date!  I have to take some cupcakes over for the little sisters’ fundraiser tonight and I ran out of flour.  Cody and I…well, we made a mess.”  She glanced down at her chest.  “I’m afraid I got caught in the storm.  We’ve been cleaning it up.” 

I decided to ignore her attempt to make me jealous.  After all, I didn’t have any claims on Cody.  But I had to fight back the impulse to dump the baggie of flour over her sleek, blond head.  Instead, I pretended to be interested.  “Fundraiser?  That’s a nice thing to do.”

“They’re a dollar apiece.  I’ll leave some outside the door so I don’t interrupt anything.  You can pay me later.”

“I…uh…of course.”  I was still working through her inference that there would be something going on in Cody’s apartment that shouldn’t be interrupted.”

“Allison likes to bake.  I can’t leave her alone too long or she gets experimental and starts adding different flavors to things.”  She gave me that little ripple-finger wave she always did and walked toward the elevator.

Cody appeared in the open doorway.  He, too, had a generous amount of flour on his shirt and pants.

He saw me looking at him, and he tried to brush it off.  “Sorry about this.  She came over and then we dropped the flour…”

I held up my hand.  “Stop…you don’t owe me any explanations.”

“I called around and every place is booked until nine or ten, so I decided to cook.  Hey, don’t give me that look.  Firemen are notoriously good cooks.”

I wasn’t sure what look I had given him, but it probably had something to do with the prospect of being alone with him in this fabulous apartment all evening.  But I had to admit that this was probably a better place for the discussion I was planning on having with him.  I forced myself to smile.  “Well, we’ll soon find out, won’t we?”

“I’m a little behind.  Come on in.”  Cody stood aside and let me walk past before he closed the door.

“I ran into Amanda when I was about to knock.”

“She lives in the building, one floor down…actually right below my unit.  She’s helping out the little sis group she works with.  Come on in the kitchen so we can talk while I finish dinner.”

“What are we having?”

“
Stasera ceniamo a Roma
.” He struggled with his Italian, but it was cute that he was trying so hard to entertain me.  He opened a bottle of red wine and poured some into two beautiful crystal stems, one of which he handed to me.

“And that means…?” I prompted.

“It’s supposed to mean
tonight we dine in Rome
.  I’m not sure what actually came out.”

“Since I don’t speak Italian, it sounded perfect to me.  But I do know that I love Italian food.”

“Great. We’re having assorted sliced deli meats…salami,
capocollo
,
prosciutto
, 
mortadella
, and 
bresaola
followed by a fresh
Caesar salad, invented by Caesar Cardini
, an 
Italian
 immigrant who lived in 
San Diego
 and worked in 
Tijuana
…so that’s sort of Mexican/Italian.  Then!  The main course, lasagna, alongside the very best Italian bread in all of Austin.  I know because it came from the bakery across the street.” His sexy grin was contagious, and I found myself relaxing and smiling along with him.  He pushed the tray of anti-pasta toward me, and I speared some cheese and olives with a toothpick and started nibbling.

“And for dessert…,” he continued, “we are finishing with Crème brûlée.  As a member of the Austin Fire Department, we know most house fires start in the kitchen, so we don’t recommend it for amateurs.”  He picked up a small torch.  “Have no fear…I’m a professional.”

I looked around the kitchen.  “Where’s the fire extinguisher, just in case?” I teased.

He held his hand against his heart as if I’d wounded him.  “There’s no living down a kitchen fire if you’re a firefighter…it gets ugly.”  He pointed to a red canister mounted on the wall next to the stovetop.  “But there’s the extinguisher.”

“I bet.”  I pretended to be relieved, but I couldn’t stop smiling.  And I wasn’t a smiler. “What can I do to help?”

“Just hang out in here and keep me company.” He started moving quickly around the kitchen, making preparations.  Cooking was not a skill I’d ever mastered, so I watched with interest.  Most of my foster mothers just wanted me to stay out of the way until it was time for clean up, so my experience in the kitchen was limited to cans of soup, boiling Ramen noodles and opening frozen food packages and putting them in the microwave.  But I was an expert dish washer.

“What’d you do today?” he asked.

“Well, I didn’t actually leave your parking lot until after three this morning.”

At his curious expression, I told him about my slashed tires.  I didn’t mention the note…not yet.  Maybe after dinner.  I realized I was really hungry, and the lasagna baking in the oven was making my taste buds salivate.

“I can’t believe that.”  He shook his head in dismay.  “All four?”

“Tonight I parked a block away just in case the guy comes back.”

“I’m just glad that whoever did it didn’t stick around.”  He looked at me with genuine concern clouding his dark blue eyes.  “From now on, I’ll walk you to your car.”

I tried not to read too much into his suggestion that there would be more visits here.  I wanted to be brave, but the truth of it was that the threats had freaked me out.  “I’ll take you up on that.”

The timer dinged, and he was forced to turn away and take out the bread before it burned.  While he transferred the thick, golden brown slices into a bread basket, he said, “Would you carry the salad to the table?  I think we’re ready to get to it.”

I picked up the big bowl and carried it and my wine to the table.  Cody was close behind with the bread and the bottle of wine.  He refilled my glass and went back to get his own, along with a dipping oil mixture of herbs, spices and minced marinated olives. 

Cody was on his best behavior, which I thought was really sweet.  He tossed the salad and put some in each of our bowls.  “I didn’t make the dressing either,” he admitted.

I tasted it and nodded my approval.  “It’s excellent.”

“I’ll take you to the restaurant where I bought it.  Everything on their menu is amazing.”

I had to stop at two pieces of bread and a second helping of salad if I wanted to have room for the lasagna.  Cody and I chatted about small things.  He told me some of the crazy calls he’d been on, and I told him about my classes.  Of course, his stories were much better than mine.

“It took a while to get used to working 24 hours,” he told me.  “Sometimes we go from call to call and don’t even have time to eat.  Then on other days, it gets quiet enough that we can almost get a whole night’s sleep.”

“So, they have beds at the fire station?”

He nodded.  “We each have our own bunk with a locker.  Some stations even have bedrooms where only two or three people share the space, but since there are three shifts, usually there’s only one person in the room at a time.”

“Are there women at your station?”

“We have a couple.”

“That’s got to be rough for them.”

“They’re strong and they work hard to make it,” he answered.  “I have to give them credit because I know it’s tougher for them.  But they pull their weight.”

“So, no hanky panky?”

“You’ve been watching too much TV.  Inter-station relations are frowned on.  It would make things awkward.  Besides, like I said, we’re usually busy or tired.”

“Do your parents still live in San Diego?” 

“Yeah, and my brother lives in their basement.”

“Is he an IT geek, too?”

“No, he’s a professional surfer.  He has sponsors who pay for his travel to meets around the world.  He’s rarely home, so he has a room at our parents’ where he keeps his stuff.”

“That sounds interesting.  I didn’t realize someone could make a living at that.”

“He makes way more than I do as a fireman.  If I had to live on my salary, I’d still be in my parents’ basement, too.”  He refilled my glass that had mysteriously gotten empty.  “How about you?  I read about your father being a big music star, but what about your mother?  Does she live here?”

Damn, I hated that question.  It always sounded so pathetic and the last thing I wanted from him was sympathy.  It seemed like a good time to steer the conversation away from my childhood.  “Apparently, my father was quite a lady’s man.  He must have been a charmer.  Everyone we meet just loved him, but none of my brothers or sisters ever knew about him either.”

Cody took a sip of his wine and studied me through narrowed eyes.  “It must have been quite a shock to discover you had a famous father and several siblings.  You’re an amazing woman in a lot of respects.”

“But you don’t really know me, Cody.”

His eyebrows raised significantly and his eyes searched mine for my reaction.  “Maybe the word amazing was an overshoot.  I’ll give you that.  But you are one of the most interesting people I’ve met since I moved here.”

I wasn’t sure how to handle that information.  On the one hand, I was flattered to hear that he found me interesting, but on the other hand, I didn’t share that opinion and thought it wouldn’t take long for him to find out how really boring I was.  I didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face when he realized the real me.

The timer dinged again, and I breathed a sigh of relief.  Saved by the bell, at least for the moment.  I helped him clear the table of the salad and bowls while he took the lasagna out.

“It needs to rest for a moment,” he told me. 

I had no idea what that meant, but I played along.  I rinsed and loaded the salad dishes in the dishwasher, a kitchen task that showcased my skill, but he took my arm and led me back to the table.

“You’re the guest tonight.”  He gave me that little grin that always caused my heart to do a catapult.

I would have protested, but he seemed determined to play this scenario out to the fullest.  I waited patiently until he finally cut the lasagna into generous portions, put them on plates and carried them to the table.

It was still scalding hot, and I had to take small forkfuls and blow on them before I could actually put it into my mouth.  It tasted even better than it smelled.  I was pretty impressed that a man who wasn’t a world-class chef could put together such a great meal.  We didn’t talk much as we worked our way through the food.  When I finally couldn’t eat another bite, I sat back and groaned.

“I’m afraid I made a pig of myself.  That was really good.”

“It’s nice to see a woman with a healthy appetite who appreciates my cooking.”

“Do you do all the cooking at the firehouse?”

“No, we all take turns.”  He started to clear the table, and I stopped him by putting my hand on his as he reached for my plate.

“Can this wait?” I asked.

His eyes widened, and he gave me a curious look.  “What did you have in mind?”

“Get out of the gutter, Cody.”  I chuckled.  “I just need to talk to you about something.”

“I won’t lie and say I’m not disappointed, but shoot.”