According To Plan Part 6

When he stepped back, I caught a dangerous glint in his eye when his gaze fixed heatedly on my now swollen lower lip. I got his message loud and clear. Mine. He left his armed draped across my shoulders and turned and faced Regis.

"Thanks for dropping by." Tank reached out and gave him a handshake. I know I heard bones crack. "Nice that you're all neighborly, but I gotta get Shelby in the house before she faints from hunger, right Sweetheart?"

Still a bit bemused by the kiss, I could only nod yes.

Regis mumbled his goodbye and retreated toward his house. I looked at Tank and ducked under his arm through my open door, intending to lock him out. His big boot on the threshold prevented it, so I flounced, yes, I flounced into the kitchen. My equilibrium was returning.

I'll Sweetheart him in a minute.

Mentally I prepared myself for a full frontal attack from Tank. I waited...and waited. No Tank. Where was he now? For all I knew he could be peeing in corners, further staking out his territory.

I walked back to the entrance of the kitchen. Down the hall near the front door Tank stood staring at a framed photo on the wall. The picture was of him, Aunt Tillie, my mom and I, taken on a family vacation. We stood smiling, arms around each other with the beautiful mountains of Virginia as our backdrop.

Tank had an old army buddy there he wanted to see, so we three girls opted to stay in the small city about an hour from his friend's ranch. We'd had manicures, pedicures and shopped until we dropped. It had been our last vacation together and this photo was the only one with my mom and Aunt Tillie together with me, so I never removed it from the wall.

"I always liked your mom and aunt. They were like family to me."

I knew that. Aunt Tillie had been almost as devastated as me when Tank left. The kicker was she hadn't stayed mad, like me. Both she and Polly had a soft spot for him and wouldn't let me out-and-out hate him. I grabbed my bag and headed upstairs with Tank following. Halfway up I stopped and turned. Although two steps behind, he remained eye level with me.

"Oh no, cowboy." I jabbed a finger in his shoulder. "You lost your chance to stay here. Get out and find some other woman to haunt. We're through."

"Darlin', it's my house too. But if it makes you feel any better, I promise on my mother's grave I will not lay a hand on you until you ask." He placed his right hand over his heart. "I'll stay in our guest room, cross my heart, hope to die, stick a-"

"Shame on you," I interrupted. "You told me your mother was alive and well, counting cards in Vegas."

He sidestepped me and bounded up the stairs, throwing an unrepentant grin over his shoulder. "I know, but it worked."

The guest bedroom door slammed shut.

Chapter Ten.

My first instinct when I got to my bedroom was to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and hide from the world for a day or two. But Aunt Tillie always said, Child, it's better to meet life head on than waitin' for it to sneak up from behind. That way it can't bite you in the 'you know where.'

Then she'd laugh and threaten to show me all the bite marks she'd received from life. Aunt Tillie was my mother's aunt. She'd come to live with me when mom became sick and stayed until she pa.s.sed. Tragically, a short time later, Aunt Tille was struck by a car on her way home from shopping. I lost both my mom and Great Aunt within months of each other.

Sometimes I missed them both so much it felt like a canyon stretched where my heart used to be. At one time Tank filled that huge void. Then he took off and the ditch widened even more.

The doorbell chimed and I hastily wiped the tears off my cheeks. Taking deep breaths, I willed myself to get a grip before going downstairs. I opened the door to Polly, who held a bag of nacho chips in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. The cloying scent of Poison, by Dior, wafted on the air as she breezed by.

"Do you put that stuff on by the gallon or what?" I waved a hand in front of my face to disperse the air a bit.

"Put what on?" She blithely continued down the hall to my kitchen.

"Your perfume. Geez, Polly. There's a red haze following you and dogs are crying next door because they can't breathe." I followed and watched her pull out a big bowl for chips, then gla.s.ses for the wine. I noticed she brought down three gla.s.ses.

"Polly, you didn't come by here to see Tank, did you?"

"Who me?" She batted innocent eyes. "Now why would I do that?'

I snorted in disbelief.

"I stopped to find out how your little trip went and to give you these." She pulled a sheaf of papers from her Fendi bag with phone numbers, times and dates on it. "Gorgeous, hunky man staying at your house had no bearing what-so-ever that I wore my new sweater. You like?"

Polly had on a soft pink sweater, which showed off her Mae West figure to perfection as she swayed into the living room with the wine. Sway was the only way to describe Polly's walk. She just kind of 'sashayed.' You almost expected her to put a hand on her hip and ask you to come over sometime. She made me smile, as always.

Papers in hand, I grabbed the bowl of nachos and headed into the living room. Focused on the pages I didn't watch where I was going and tripped over Tank's long legs, stretched out from the couch. He shot out an arm and caught me. Stiffening, I placed the nachos on the coffee table, moved away from him and sat in my easy chair.

Polly settled in next to Tank and offered him a gla.s.s. They immediately started laughing and joking. I was so jealous of their camaraderie I could have spit nails, so I pretended to study the phone list.

Tank kept looking over to me and I knew he wondered what Polly had given me, so I lifted the sheet higher to hide my smug smile. The first page had lots of phone calls to local numbers and I could see the L.A. prefix interspersed among them. I was about to check out the next page when Polly piped up.

"So, what did the hookers have to say?"

I lowered the sheets of paper and glared, willing her to realize I hadn't said anything to Tank about talking to hookers.

She caught my glare. "What?"

Tank looked from me to Polly and back at me again. "What hookers?"

He sat up straight on the couch and leaned toward me. "Did you do anything that could have gotten you hurt, or in trouble?"

"More trouble than getting arrested outside an apartment?" I quipped.

Polly choked on her sip of wine. "You were arrested?"

"No. Tank and Crocodile Dundee bulldozed me into a police cruiser and then we went for a ride."

"I was just looking out for your best interests. And I forgive you for pepper spraying me."

I felt heat steal across my cheeks.

"You pepper sprayed Tank?" Polly's eyes widened and she put her wine on the coffee table. She twisted to face him and touched his arm. "Tank, you poor thing, are you okay?"

My eyes narrowed as I watched her console poor, poor Tank. What was she up to?

He nodded, but kept his gaze on me. "So fill me in. What did you find out in L.A.?" Leaning back once more, he put both arms on the back of the couch and kicked his feet out onto the coffee table. "Maybe we can bounce ideas off each other and figure out where he's gone."

Polly picked up her wine gla.s.s and settled into the corner of the couch, tucking her feet under her bottom. It was then I noticed her wink at me as she took a sip of wine and watched the two of us. Oh no. She was playing matchmaker. Give me a gun and let me shoot myself.

"Shelby, what did you find out?" Tank's question stopped me from throttling Polly.

I paused and went back over my day. "This morning I talked to a couple of hookers who might have known Lulu. They don't believe Harrison is the murderer. They're street savvy and if they don't think he did the deed, then, my gut says they're bang on. So... I have to ask myself, why has Harrison disappeared? Does he think he's being framed? Is he a target as well?"

Visualizing Harrison's apartment I stood, tucked the folded papers into my back pocket, and began to pace. I did my best thinking when I wasn't sitting still.

"His place was too sterile. Made me think he hadn't lived there. Or, almost like it had been professionally cleaned. Most people forget something, like a bar of soap, razor blade. Little things that we just think, 'Let the other guy have it, I'm outta here.' Nope, Harrison is a real mystery."

Tank stroked his strong jaw, nodding. "You may be right. Dango didn't say Harry was the killer, only that he was a person of interest. He disappeared right after the murder."

I kept musing out loud. "I wonder why he thought he had to go into hiding. And who's bankrolling it? Harrison didn't pay his own bills, there's no way he could keep afloat and try to stay out of sight." A huge yawn escaped me and my eyelids felt like sandpaper. "I'll look closer at his parents. They might have hired me to create the illusion of Harry taking a walk."

Tank's hand paused as he reached for a chip and he shot a hard look at me. A little puzzled by it, but too exhausted to figure out why, I yawned again and stretched. After running on about six hours of sleep over the past two days, my personal gas tank hit empty. I had to get some sleep.

With another big stretch I looked over at Polly and Tank talking. They'd always had an easy friendship. Disgusted with my envy of Polly I decided to get out of there before I said something I'd regret, again.

"Good night."

Did they even notice me leave? I headed down the hall and heard Tank's deep voice ask Polly if she'd like more wine. Trudging up the stairs I wanted that to be me on the couch, laughing and teasing with him. The one thing Tank and I lost, along with trust, was having fun.

Nightly rituals completed, I finally crawled into bed. For at least an hour I tossed and turned, frustrated that I couldn't fall asleep no matter how tired I was. Through the vents I heard talking and the tinkle of Polly's laughter. Bitter jealousy tightened around my heart, squeezing until I felt physical pain. If I had a heart attack and died, would they miss me?

Probably not.

Hands grab at me, pulling me toward a big crate. I hear the cries of women from within, calling out to be released. I try to stop them. I don't want to be sold into slavery.

I awoke with a start, my heart racing. Even though I was a little disoriented, the dream remained vivid in my mind. I glanced at the alarm clock which dimly glowed a few minutes after two o'clock a.m. A bit shaken, I stared at my bedroom door, and willed Tank to come through it.

I'd never admit that his scare tactic in L.A. had worked but it would be nice if he'd wrap his arms around me and keep me safe.

The door remained closed and a tiny ache settled around my heart. Why did I think he'd come to my room after promising to leave me alone? I guess I never expected him to keep his word, at least not when it came to sleeping with me.

Slipping out of bed, I tiptoed across the room, opened the door slowly, crept across the hall and pressed my ear to the guest bedroom door. What did I think I was going to hear? Polly and Tank getting it on. I froze at the thought. They wouldn't. Would they?

I opened the door a crack and listened again. Tank's gentle snoring was all I heard. I eased the door open further, poked my head in and looked around toward his bed.

From the light of a street lamp, filtered through gauzy curtains, I saw him spread out, blankets all tangled, his arm flung over the edge of the bed. I edged in a little further. As I got closer I confirmed he was alone. A deep sigh breathed out of me from relief. And, call me a klutz, but I accidently b.u.mped the bed.

Who was I kidding? I practically kicked the bed to jerk him awake. My motivation for waking him was lost, even to me. Maybe I thrived on having my heart broke. I backed away and ducked down so he wouldn't see me and think maybe it was a dream.

"Trouble sleeping?"

I knew by the inflection he was trying not to laugh. Embarra.s.sed at getting caught, I stood.

"Thought I heard a noise and came in to make sure you were okay," I lied and turned to leave.

"Wait," he called out, his voice deep and husky from sleep. "Stay with me."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"To sleep only, darlin'. I miss having you next to me. And besides, I promised I wouldn't lay a hand on you unless you asked."

I looked over my shoulder and felt so torn. The logical side of my brain said, 'get out, don't make a bigger fool of yourself'. But the mushy heart side, the one that needed him, shouted, 'stay, stay, stay'.

My heart was a traitor to my mind.

"Okay, if you insist." I crawled over him, into the bed. "Don't think this makes up for arresting me in L.A."

He wrapped his arms around me and I curled against his chest, twining my legs with his.

"Didn't think it would. Go to sleep, you'll feel better in the morning."

The steady rhythm of his breathing and heart soothed me. Through my hair I felt a feather light kiss and he pulled me in a little closer. I loved him so much.

Within minutes, I was sound asleep.

Chapter Eleven.

...his mouth follows the curve of my collarbone before sliding up to capture my lips. Instinctively I arch, and push up against his hard body. One hand caresses my thigh while the alarm clock rings, and rings, and rings....

My hand groped around the nightstand, searching for the alarm clock. It took a few more rings before I realized the 'alarm' was actually a cell phone. Who would call this early in the morning? I found the offending phone and glared at it. All the call display showed was unknown number, so I hit talk and held it to my ear.

A disembodied voice droned, "Enter the four digit code from your computer."

What the...? I held the phone out and studied the unfamiliar icons. Rubbing sleep out of my eyes, I looked again. Uh oh, not my phone, it was Tank's. I punched end and dropped his phone back onto the nightstand. Simultaneously, I remembered I was in the guest bedroom. The same guest bedroom and bed where Tank slept and where coincidentally I happened to be all cozy beneath the duvet.

Groaning softly, I flopped back onto the pillow and I covered my eyes with the back of my hand, flushing at the memory of using Tank as a personal body pillow. I pushed the duvet off and sat. Where was Tank anyway? The deep baritone of Tank singing, I Love This Bar, filtered down the hall. A giggle slipped past me.

He only sang Toby Keith in the shower when he was in a good mood. This was almost always followed by a gourmet spread of French toast, crisp bacon and the best coffee in the state.

I wasn't ready to face him yet. Not after practically begging to let me sleep with him. So much for the hands-off message I'd instigated. I skidded into my bedroom and fell back against the closed door just as the shower stopped. That had been close.

I pushed away from the door and had my own solitary shower. Heat unfurled within me at the thought of Tank naked in the other shower. I dropped my head against the cool tile. Oh, how I wanted to skip my dripping body down the hall and surprise him like the good old days. The pull to join him was so strong my stomach churned. I had to get my thoughts and hormones under control. A friggin' yo-yo bounced around less than I did.

Although I wanted to, in a bad, bad way, I didn't jump Tank. I finished my shower and proceeded to pull on clean jeans and the ever present tee shirt. Fresh coffee and the mouth-watering smell of bacon a.s.sailed my senses while I dressed for work. I'd never admit it to him, but I missed his cooking.

What would I say to him over breakfast? He didn't know I'd had this great epiphany before I fell asleep. And I wasn't ready to be the first one to say 'I love you.' Not after what he had done. He left me, not the other way around. I expected some major groveling from the boy.

Once dressed, I walked over to my dresser and put on my watch. As I hooked the clasp I glanced over the phone bills I'd left lying there. The ones Polly brought over last night. Smoothing out the paper, I examined the long list, turning to the second page. A series of phone calls made to a familiar number practically jumped off the page and alarm bells rang.

Why were the Grants calling Tank?

This tidbit of information was something I hadn't expected. Harrison's disappearance took another fascinating turn. In fact, going by this print out, they had been calling Tank for several months. My previous suspicions that this whole business had been too coincidental were confirmed by this list. I ticked off on my fingers all Tank 'coincidences.'

1. He'd shown up right after I was hired by Raymond Grant.

2. He'd been waiting for me at the end of their drive.