In Deep Shitake Part 14

Heather paused before speaking again. "It has to be perfect. A girl only gets married once...at least the first time." She giggled gleefully at her joke. "No. You don't need to bother my fiancee with any of this. He's leaving the details to me. He's so in love that he hasn't even asked for a pre-nup."

Mo looked quizzically at Ross. He emphatically mouthed the word "no" and shook his head. Were they getting married or not? Surely Heather couldn't be planning such an elaborate wedding to Ross with absolutely no encouragement from him? Heather was either getting married or completely delusional.

"Remember, we must project the right image. It's not only our wedding but publicity for the new film." Heather listened to the other person for a few seconds before adding, "Perfect. Kisses."

Mo peeked out again. Heather fluffed her hair and made a pouty face in the mirror. The actress pulled the cell phone out of her purse and then pushed in a number.

"Clarence. Where did you go?" Heather demanded with a pout. "Why aren't you answering your phone? I know we just spoke, but...well, call me." She touched the ear device, cutting off the call before throwing the phone back into in her purse.

You're Beautiful trilled again. Cheesecake. Mo was definitely sick of that song.

"You're talking to Heather. Oh it's you, darling. Well, to be honest, I thought it was my sister's boyfriend, Clarence. We got separated at the convention. Anyway, it's a long story. Why do you ask?" Heather leaned over the sink to stare closer at herself in the mirror. She ran a finger around her lips, wiping an imaginary smudge from her perfectly lined lips. "No, everything is fine with Ross. In fact, I talked to my wedding planner only moments ago."

Heather abruptly straightened away from the mirror and placed a hand on her hip. "Who told you that? No, forget it. It doesn't matter. I've already seen the picture of Ross with that brunette. Some local reporter showed it to me this morning."

Did Heather refer to her? Mo's eyes flew to meet Ross's gaze. He smiled down at her. What did that smile mean?

"Why would I be worried?" Heather chuckled. "I mean really. She has tolerable legs, I guess, but that's the only thing she has going for her." Heather laughed harder. "She's old and positively pasty white. My goodness! She's not even pretty with all that stringy hair. Believe me, she's absolutely no threat... just his business acquaintance I'm certain."

Mo cringed at Heather's a.s.sessment of her attractions, or lack thereof. She found herself staring at the hollow where Ross's throat met his chest. Mo couldn't meet his eyes anymore. Son of a beef patty. Why should she become teary? What difference did Heather's opinion make? Who cared what that bulimic bleached blonde on stilts thought about anything? But the sad truth was Mo did care. Like she'd cared about the opinions of all those popular girls in high school.

Did Ross have the same opinion? She was really only a business acquaintance. And even that acquaintance was pretty darn tenuous. Here she was, l.u.s.ting after a man for the first time in... ever...when he probably thought her a dumpy old maid. He had been forced to hang around with her to safeguard his film project. And she looked like a clown. The thought mortified her. Mo furiously blinked back tears.

No. She didn't care, Mo insisted to herself. She wouldn't allow herself to care anymore.

"You don't look like a clown," Ross whispered into her ear.

Oh my good gumb.a.l.l.s. What had she said? "Yes I do," she couldn't help mumbling.

Strong fingers came to tilt up her chin. Intense blue eyes stared into hers. "Then I seem to be extremely turned on by clowns." He gently kissed her on the tip of her nose. "Or maybe it's only one in particular"

His teeth nipped lightly at her ear lobe and all her intentions to distance herself exploded in the fire of physical sensations her body was experiencing.

"Wha..." Her question stopped as his lips came over hers in a searching kiss. Momentarily startled, heat shot through her from head to toe as if she had been plunged headfirst into a hot tub and couldn't come up for air. Let's face it. She didn't want to come up for air.

Ross must have found what he sought because his mouth angled over hers and the kiss deepened. Mo's eyes drifted shut as she enjoyed the feeling.

His tongue plunged into the cavern of her mouth, caressing hers. Not being able to hold back any longer, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her hands explored his back between the cape and his white dress shirt, delighting in his muscular strength.

Clutching him close to her, she met the strokes of his tongue with counterstrokes of her own in a bold duel. He tasted of breath mints and man. Delicious, minty, man.

His hands clutched her b.u.t.tocks, bringing her into even closer contact with him. His hardness prodded against her stomach, making her quiver. Mo gyrated herself against him.

"Mo," he groaned as he broke his mouth away from hers. "You don't know how much I've longed to kiss you since I first saw your spectacularly exquisite derriere sticking out of my sunroof."

"You're not the only one with longings," she said. "I've wanted to do this ince you pulled me out of that sunroof." Mo lightly nibbled his Adam's apple and then licked a trail down the exposed skin on his chest. Mo ran one hand down his back and then delved into the top of the tuxedo pants to caress him. "And I've really wanted to do this."

Her hand was making a deeper foray when the stall door pushed violently inward, slamming into Ross. They stumbled awkwardly into a position leaning over the toilet bowl against the far wall. Ross held Mo to keep her from falling on top of the seat. To Mo's embarra.s.sment, her hand was still shoved down the front of Ross's pants.

"Son-of-a-" Ross yelled.

"There they are, officers. Arrest them." The naughty nurse stood outside the stall door, pointing an accusing finger. Apparently her naughty was all on the outside.

Mo's thinking was still lulled into a haze of l.u.s.t, but she was coming out of it when two security guards Mo didn't recognize appeared at the nurse's side. They must be the temps.

"Couldn't you two perverts get a room?" Miss Naughty Nurse ranted. "It's disgusting. Men groping each other in the ladies' room? For goodness sake. Couldn't you at least confine yourself to the men's room?"

Thankfully, Heather was nowhere to be seen. However, behind the security guards stood a familiar figure. Milton-reporter-c.u.m-chipmunk-raised a camera over one guard's shoulder and then snapped an unknown number of photos.

Mo withdrew her hand from Ross's pants. Too late.

Ross shouted. "Hey you, w.a.n.ker. Get back here."

"Thanks for the photo op," Milton called and then scuttled away like the little ratatouille he was.

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 l.u.s.t 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. .h.i.t 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 fiancee. 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 pa.s.sion to rule logic and had succ.u.mbed 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 h.e.l.l, 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 a.s.sessable 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. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, 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 pa.s.senger 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 rea.s.suring plat.i.tudes. 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.

"b.l.o.o.d.y 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."