Trust Me on This - Jennifer Crusie [38]
The phone rang as she was heading out the door, and she stopped to get it in case it might be Alec. Not that Alec mattered.
It was Taylor.
“Dammit, I warned you, Banks,” he yelled, and Dennie sat down hard on the bed.
“I didn’t talk to her,” Dennie said. “I haven’t said a word.”
“No, but you stared at her all the way through some speech this morning,” Taylor said. “I told you—”
“You told me after that speech,” Dennie said. “You’re about a beat behind here. I sat in the back and I didn’t say a word to anybody. I’m innocent.”
“Stay away from her,” Taylor said. “Because I do not enjoy getting these damn phone calls. One more, and you’re fired, Banks, I mean it. I don’t give a damn how good you are at weddings.”
“Thank you, Taylor,” Dennie said, and hung up.
If she went near Victoria tomorrow and Janice saw her, she was dead. She should call and cancel now. After all, she had the Bondman story.
Dennie looked at the phone as if it were a snake. If she called, she’d never get to hear Janice talk about risking and marriage and what it all meant. She’d never get to ask her the questions she’d found in Janice’s writings. She’d never get to write the interview.
The smart thing to do would be to call Victoria and cancel.
The risky thing to do would be to have breakfast.
The clock clicked over a number, and Dennie saw she had only fifteen minutes to set up Bondman.
The hell with smart. She shoved the phone away and went to find her second story.
Bond sat in the bar and thought about the brunette and the dweeb professor he was about to meet. Why the hell a babe like that would prefer some teacher to him was a mystery, since she was obviously no dummy. She’d almost blown it for him, right there. Thank God the dweeb was clumsy.
He felt somebody slide into the seat beside him, somebody brunette, his peripheral vision told him before he turned, hoping for a split second that it was Dennie before he saw who it really was.
“Sherée?” He practically goggled at her, and she smiled, obviously pleased to have the upper hand.
“Thought you’d lost me forever, huh?” she said, and snuggled a little closer.
Oh, great. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her around so much as he didn’t want her around now. “Sherée, you’ve got to get out of here,” he said, moving away a little. “I’m meeting a mark, and I don’t want to have to explain you. He’s ready to buy. Get lost, and I’ll see you later.”
“He,” Sherée repeated with suspicion. “You’re not after some other girl, are you?”
Bond closed his eyes. It had been a good ten years since anyone could have referred to Sherée as a girl, but she hadn’t caught on yet. “It’s a guy. Now get out of here. He’s coming in anytime.”
“What’s your room number?” Sherée asked. “Give me the key. I’ll wait up there.”
Bond thought about saying no, but knowing where Sherée was had its advantages, not the least of which was that he wouldn’t have to sleep alone that night. “814,” he said, handing the card over. “I’ll be there by one. Now get lost.”
Sherée kissed his cheek and slid off the stool, and he watched in the mirror as she headed for the door. She stepped back to let another woman come through, and Bond clutched his drink tighter as he saw it was Dennie Banks.
Sherée kept going, and he relaxed again until Dennie came and sat beside him. “Mr. Bondman?” she said, and he turned, intending to be cool and remote. That plan died a sudden death when he saw how close she was and how lovely she was.
“Miss Banks,” he said, and she smiled regretfully and shook her head.
“Dennie, please,” she said. “Alec has just been reading me the riot act about how I behaved at dinner so I wanted to slip down and apologize before you met him. He explained the Washington fix to me, and I see now how wrong I was.”
Bond didn’t want to believe her, but she looked