Trust Me on This - Jennifer Crusie [48]
Alec must have heard her anyway. He broke the kiss and closed his eyes as if he were as thrown by it as she was. Then he rolled off her to sit on the edge of the bed. “Listen, I’m not a crook. But I very much need you not to blow my cover to Bond.”
Dennie sat up and tried to remember what they were talking about. “I won’t. I need to see Bond again, though. I’m working on a story about him.”
Alec frowned at her, pulling away even more. “I thought you were working on Janice Meredith.”
“I can do two things at once.” Dennie held out her hand. “But I won’t get in your way, and I won’t blow your cover. Deal?”
Alec took her hand and held it. “No deal.” He started to say something and then he stopped, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek instead. He hesitated as if he was going to move to her mouth, and she held her breath, but then he stood up. “This thing with Bond is just about over, and it would have made a lousy story anyway, so do me a favor and forget him.” Dennie started to shake her head but he went on. “You don’t need to be there tonight, and I probably won’t see you again before I go tomorrow. Have a good life, Dennie Banks. I’ll watch for your byline in all the major publications.”
He turned and left before she could think of what to say, and Dennie felt the bottom of her stomach plummet as the door closed behind him. It was probably all those damn daiquiris. So he was leaving. Big deal. There were other great kissers in the world. But if he thought she was giving up the Bond story, he was nuts.
Dennie let herself slip back down into the bed. Now she could concentrate on the two greatest stories of her career. She’d certainly handled everything beautifully. Patience would be so proud. She got her laptop and began her Bond notes. It was going to be a great story. She’d really handled things well.
Of course, Lady Macbeth had probably felt the same way after she’d washed off all that blood.
Stupid analogy. Dennie hadn’t killed anybody. She didn’t have anything to regret.
With a great deal of willpower, Dennie dragged her mind back to her story and began to type but it was no go. You just need sleep, she told herself, and slid down into her bed and stuck her head under the pillow and tried her damnedest not to think about Alec.
When Alec got back to his room, he found a message from Harry telling him to meet them in Harry’s room. Why? Alec thought. What difference did any of this make? They’d put Bond away for a little while, and then he’d be out on parole, and the whole mess would start over again in another state. Even Harry’s database couldn’t stop these guys; it would just make them easier to catch.
And that was something, Alec had to admit. It just wasn’t everything anymore. He shoved that thought aside and went to tell Harry that he was pretty sure Dennie wasn’t a con.
* * *
“I know,” Harry said, when Alec was in his room. Harry sat on the edge of the brass-bound desk by the window and looked despondent. Victoria sat in the red plush desk chair and looked worse. Harry went on. “The checks came back. She’s a reporter, nothing to do with Bond.”
“I told you so,” Victoria said, but she didn’t look happy.
Neither did Harry. Well, Alec didn’t feel particularly joyful either. They weren’t supposed to be happy. They were working.
“I told her not to bother about tonight,” Alec said. “She wanted to do a story on the whole mess. I just want it over with.”
“So do I,” Harry said. “But we hit a snag. A big one.”
“A snag?” Alec looked at them both warily. “I do not want to hear about snags.”
“Well, you’re going to—” Harry snapped, and then Victoria cut him off.
“The two of you seem to have missed a detail,” Victoria said acidly. “Evidently, it is not illegal to sell land you own.”
* * *
When the