However, he was still swearing a blue streak when the door on the passenger side opened and Billie Farrell slipped into the seat beside him.
Chapter 2
She looked flushed and exhilarated, almost gleeful-and why shouldnt she? She aimed a look at the open front of Holts jacket, inside which his hand was still clutching his shirt in the area over his rapidly thumping heart.
Well, I guess that tells me one thing about you. Whoever the hell you are. Youre used to packin.
Actually, he muttered darkly, Im just checking to see if Im having a heart attack. Jeez, Billie. He slid his hand out of his jacket and ran it over his face, which had broken out in a cold sweat. What were you thinking? If I had been packing, Id have probably shot you-you know that, dont you?
She shrugged, but behind the dark glasses her gaze was steady, and he could almost feel the intensity of it. Nuh-uh. If youd been packin Id have seen it when you took out your wallet. See, I notice things like that. Thats because I used to be in the kind of business where you need to notice things like that. But then, since you know my name, you knew that already.
Holt returned the measuring stare, his mind busy trying to gauge how much further he could reasonably hope to carry on with his charade as a horticulturally challenged out-of-town wedding guest. Or whether he should just pack it in and go with the truth.
Not being happy with either option, he decided to go with something in between. He held up a hand. Okay, look. I recognized you. Ive watched you play. I admit it-as soon as I saw you, I knew that was you, andwell- and it was only the truth, wasnt it? -I wanted to meet you.
Its been years since I played poker. Although she looked away and her voice was quiet, she didnt relax one iota.
And although he nodded and gave her a rueful smile, he didnt, either. I watch old poker tour reruns on television when I cant sleep. The game fascinates me. I know its got to be more about skill than just dumb luck, because the same people always seem to make it to the final table.
Her eyes came back to him, her lips curved in a half smile. Oh, believe me, luck still has a whole lot to do with it. Her head tilted, and the dark lenses taunted him. Please tell me youre not planning on trying your hand at the game while youre in town.
Well, actually
Oh, lord. She faced front again and hissed out a sigh.
What? Why not? He straightened, genuinely affronted.
She laughed without sound. Why not? Well, okay, go ahead, if you dont mind losing. Just do yourself a favor, stay away from the high-stakes tables.
What makes you so sure Id lose? Ill have you know I do pretty well at online poker.
Sure you do, because nobody can see your face.
Whats that supposed to mean? he demanded.
You really want to know?
Yeah, he said, and meant it.
They were bantering, he realized, though there was nothing light or easy about it. The tension in the car was almost tangible, like a low-pitched humming, but something felt along the skin rather than heard through the ears. He had the impression she was playing him, flirting with him, deliberately trying to distract him from whatever his agenda was.
But, without being able to see her eyes, of course, he couldnt be sure.
Mister-
Its Holt.
Well, Holt, youve got tells a child could read. Okay?
Come on.
She smiled, and this time a pair of dimples appeared unexpectedly. Look, dont get insulted. Most people have em and arent even aware they do. Thats why you see so many poker players wearing hats and dark glasses.
Is that why you do? he asked softly.
The dimples vanished. Like I said, I dont play the game anymore. I guess Ive still got the habit. She waited a couple of beats before continuing. Do you even have a sister?
Holt snorted and didnt bother to answer. He listened to the shush of the air-conditioning and the throb of the idling motor and the hum of that unrelenting tension, and Billie sat there and listened along with him. Patient, he thought. Probably one of the things that had made her a success at the poker tables. Because in spite of what shed said, he knew it was more than just luck.
He exhaled, conceding her the hand. Okay, so you made me. He paused, then said, Im curious, though. How come youre here? Sitting in my car? Making conversation?
Why not? Its a nice car.
Then it was her turn to huff out air, too softly to be called a snort. Youre familiar with that old saying, Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?
He jerked-another tell, he was sure, but what the hell. Im not your enemy.
Well, sure, youd say that. The almost-smile played with her lips again. Tell you what, Holt-is that a first name or a last, by the way?
First. Its Holt Kincaid.
Okay, soHolt. Why dont I let you buy me lunch and you can tell me who you are and what you really want. And Im willing to bet the farm it aint rosebushes.
He laughed, then sat still and did a slow five-count inside his head. Then, still slowly, before he shifted from Park into Drive he reached up and unhooked his sunglasses from the sun visor and put them on. And heard her knowing chuckle in response.
He didnt think hed let himself show the triumph he was feeling, but he was beginning to realize that with this lady, there was no such thing as a sure bet.
She directed him to an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet place in a strip mall not far from the nursery, and since it was fast, convenient and kind to the pocketbook, Holt figured she was probably a regular there. That theory was confirmed when Billie gave a wave and a friendly greeting to the two women at the cash register-mother and daughter, by the look of them-and got smiles in return.
She breezed through the dining room, heading for a booth way in the back, one he happened to notice was turned sideways to the entrance so that neither of them would have to sit with their backs to the door. Somehow he doubted that was a coincidence.
Is this okay? she asked with apparent innocence. And although the lighting was low, she didnt take off those shades.
Sure, he said, and she swept off to the buffet.
Because he didnt entirely trust her not to slip out while he was dithering between the kung pao chicken or the sweet-and-sour shrimp, Holt got himself a bowl of wonton soup and settled back in the booth where he could keep an eye on her. He watched her slip in and out among the browsing diners, adroitly avoiding reaching arms and unpredictable children, wasting little time in indecision, since she obviously knew exactly what she wanted.
And he felt an odd little flutter beneath his breastbone when it occurred to him he wasnt just watching her because she was someone he needed to keep track of. He was watching her for the sheer pleasure of it.
Okay, so shes attractive, he thought, squirming in the booth while a spoonful of wonton sat cooling halfway between the bowl and his mouth. So what? Given what he was pretty certain was her genetic makeup, that was no big surprise. So far, all of Cory Pearsons siblings had been exceptionally attractive people. Why should this one be any different?
And yet, she was different. He couldnt put his finger on what made her so, but she was. Not beautiful, and certainly not pretty-both of those adjectives seemed both too much and too little to describe her heart-shaped face and neat, compact little body. She wasnt tall and willowy, like her twin sister Brooke, and while her hair was blond and neither curly nor straight-also like Brookes-hers was a couple of shades darker and cut in haphazard layers, and it looked like she might be in the habit of combing it with her fingers. He couldnt tell about her eyes, of course. But, maybe due to being unable to see past the shades, hed spent quite a bit of time looking at her mouth. It fascinated him, that mouth. Her lips werent particularly full, but exquisitely shaped, with an upward tilt at the corners. And then there were those surprising dimples. Her teeth werent perfectly straight, which led him to surmise shed run away from home before the mandatory teenage orthodontia had taken place. In an odd sort of way, he was glad.
What she was, he decided, was dynamic. There was just something about her that drew his gaze and held it, like a magnet.
That all youre having? She asked it in that breathless way she had as she slipped into the booth opposite him, carrying a plate loaded with an impossible amount of food.
Just the first course. He stared pointedly at her heaped plate. Is that all youre having?
Just the first course. She contemplated the assortment on her plate, then picked up her fork, stabbed a deep-fried shrimp and dunked it into a plastic cup containing sweet-and-sour sauce. So, what are you, some kind of cop? She popped the morsel into her mouth and regarded him steadily while she chewed.
Holt raised his eyebrows. What makes you think that?
Oh, please. She forked up something with a lot of broccoli and bean sprouts. You have cop written all over you.
He didnt know how to answer that, so he didnt, except for a little huff of unamused laughter. She was beginning to annoy the hell out of him, with this cat and mouse game she was playing.
He pushed his soup bowl aside, and instantly a very young Chinese girl was there to whisk it away and give him a shy smile in exchange. He watched her quick-step across the room while he pondered whether or not to ask Billie why she was so well acquainted with cops, since in his experience your everyday law-abiding citizen wouldnt be able to spot a cop unless he was wearing a uniform and a badge. He decided there wasnt much point in it, since he was pretty sure shed only tell him what she wanted him to know-either that, or an outright lie.
He excused himself and went to the buffet, where he spent less time deciding on his food selections than on how he was going to handle the next round with Billie Farrell. He was beginning to suspect she might not be an easy person to handle. Maybe even impossible. Hed already concluded that asking her direct questions wasnt likely to get him anywhere. So maybe he ought to try letting her do the asking. See where that led him.