Trust Me on This - Jennifer Crusie [61]
“That’s not what I said.” Dennie rolled into him and let her own hand roam. “I’m pretty sure what I said was, ‘Why aren’t you in me?’ At least, I think—”
Then Alec stopped her mouth with his, and they both forgot about Bond for the rest of the night.
The next morning, they had to remember him.
Dennie had slipped out of Alec’s room at eight, wearing the red dress Alec was never going to forget and carrying the purple underwear that he was really never going to forget. “We’re meeting Bond at ten,” he’d called after her, and she’d waved the purple lace at him and closed the door behind her.
The room was a lot colder once she’d gone. What had been his plan? To talk her out of a life of crime, to talk her into moving to Chicago, and to talk her into bed with him. Only one to go. Not bad. Alec got up and headed for the shower, feeling very cheerful.
Two and a half hours later, he wasn’t nearly as upbeat.
“I know they’ll be here any minute,” he told Bond.
Bond looked uneasy, clutching the contracts as if Alec were going to rip them from his hands, which Lord knew, Alec wanted to do. Bond had showed him the new clauses while they were waiting, and it was all there. Once they both signed it, he could arrest Bond and go back to seducing Dennie into moving to Chicago.
But first Dennie had to show up, dammit. Donald and Victoria would also be nice, and he didn’t know where the hell Harry was, which was unusual to say the least, but Alec wasn’t being greedy. All he really needed was Dennie. If Dennie were there, Bond would sign anything. “We were up late last night,” he told Bond. “You have no idea how much Dennie wanted that house. That little girl can be very grateful.”
Bond looked interested enough to loosen his grip on the contracts a little. Alec remembered Dennie the night before. She hadn’t been grateful but she had been amazing. The thought must have showed on his face because Bond leaned forward.
“She’s probably still asleep,” Alec said, getting up. “I’ll just phone upstairs and check. Don’t go away. She’s bound to want to thank you personally.”
“I’ll be right here,” Bond said. “You tell her I’m waiting for her,” and Alec thought, In your dreams, buddy, and went to call Dennie and find out what the hell was going on.
Dennie had her own problems.
She’d hit the lobby a little past ten, knowing she was a few minutes behind and hurrying because of it. She’d showered and changed into a purple jersey dress that could be left unbuttoned at the top, a good idea since Bond was a sucker for cleavage and they wanted him as happy and as distracted as possible. After experimenting with three buttons undone, which made her look like a tramp, and two buttons, which made her look only trampish, she’d decided on three and then realized she was late. Self-conscious about her cleavage and guilty about being tardy, she’d almost run Baxter down when he came to stand in her path.
“Uh, Miss Banks?” he said, recovering and trotting beside her.
“Not now, Baxter,” Dennie said. “I’m late for a meeting. Not with Janice Meredith. Go away.”
“This is about Miss Meredith,” Baxter said, breaking into a trot. “She seems to have called the police.”
Dennie stopped in her tracks, and he overshot her and came back. “The police?” she said. “Why? I didn’t go near her.”
“Evidently you talked to a friend of hers and the friend called and there was an argument and she blames you.” Baxter spit it all out in one breathless sentence, and Dennie thought, Victoria, you were supposed to be tactful.
“Okay,” Dennie said. “We can handle this.”
“I would really prefer you just left the hotel,” Baxter said. “If you leave, I’m sure she won’t pursue this.”
“I can’t leave.” Dennie turned to go toward the bar. “I’m late for—”
She bumped into a guy in a dark suit, standing next to a really beautiful brunette.
“That’s her,” the brunette said. “She’s in it with him.”