Goodbye Arizona Page 6

  Deb grinned as he repeated his sister’s words, leering at the coffee mug close by. Marcus tugged it out of her reach. “How are you?”

  “A bit sore, but okay. What time is it?”

  “A little after noon.”

  Deb pushed the borrowed laptop to take its place on his lap. Marcus took his cue, and circled her waist.

  “Marcus…” She allowed him one kiss before she tilted her head away. “We’re trying something different, aren’t we?”

  “Mmm-mm.”

  “So it means that you unload some of your burden on me, and I’m there to support you.”

  “It’s still my coffee.”

  He grazed the column of her neck. Holding on to her train of thought grew harder. Deb sighed, fighting to keep her eyes open. The addictive caress paused and then narrowed on a sensitive spot in a rhythm that curled her toes. Her fingers threaded through his hair to bring him closer. Marcus resisted, working his way up until he found her mouth. Her mind blanked. For a few seconds, she became only a bundle of sensations, one of the sparks he so easily ignited inside her.

  Marcus broke off for air and whispered against her lips. “Hello.”

  Deb laughed and nestled on his chest. “Hi yourself.” This time, she managed to pick up the mug. “Where did you find the laptop?”

  “I borrowed it from the hotel. I didn’t want to leave you alone while I made use of the business center.”

  The fuzzy—borderline mushy— feeling he’d awoken in her the previous night soothed the burn of the coffee in the pit of her stomach. Marcus allowed her one gulp before he took the coffee from her hand. “I changed my passwords and logged out of a couple of websites. It’s just a precaution, really, in case they hacked their way in.”

  “Good thinking. How’s Theo? What did she want?”

  He hesitated a moment before saying, “She worries.”

  “I understand how she feels.”

  Marcus tightened his embrace around her. “Deb, let me talk to the sheriff. After what happened, she can’t refuse to let you go home.”

  If she closed her eyes, she could almost see the house in the middle of the orchards. The blooming season must be in full swing, the air balmy and fragrant. Deb asked, “What about you?”

  His eyes changed from gray to a cloudy slate the moment the question passed her lips, the silent answer all too clear. Deb extracted her arm from between them to cup his jaw, so she could look at him directly in the eye. “What’s happening here is not your fault, Marcus. It’s not your responsibility, either.”

  “I know.”

  She stared. He kissed her lightly.

  “I know it’s not. But Flint is … I’m in the middle of this. I can’t … I can’t leave until I know how I fit in the picture, and why.”

  Deb retained a smile. Now that the shock had receded, her natural curiosity perked up again and she wanted to solve the puzzle. She nodded and untangled herself from Marcus’s arms. “Then we’re staying.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she shut it with one finger. “We’re staying,” Deb repeated. “Which means you’re taking me shopping.”

  Marcus scowled with the last word. “I fail to see how the two are related.”

  “I can hardly go to tonight’s gala in a baseball jersey. I need an evening dress. And also a new pair of jeans, a couple of blouses and some toiletries.”

  “Lingerie?”

  Deb rolled her eyes and slid off his lap. She could feel Marcus’s eyes glued to the slight gait of her hips as she walked across the room toward the bedroom. She spared him a glance over her shoulder. “You’re so easy.”

  Marcus joined her in three strides. “What about…” He picked her up so she had to cling to him with arms and legs for balance. “We skip the mall…” Her pulse spiked when his mouth caressed the underside of her jaw. “And the penguins’ parade…” Heat simmered, blurring her vision around the edges “So I can show you how easy I really am.”

  He’d brought them back to the couch, and Deb found herself gasping for air, her knees on both sides of his thighs. His clever hands followed the stitches of her shirt until he found the sensitive points along her spine. Her resistance slipped through her fingers like water. “I have to, we, oh, what are you—”

  “Crap.” Marcus bucked under her and pulled his phone from under him. “Damn, it’s Ty.”

  Now free to pay him back, Deb peppered his face with kisses. “Ignore him.”

  “He’ll just keep calling until I pick up the phone.” Marcus pressed answer and flicked the speaker on. “Your timing sucks, bro. I’m working on my marriage here.”

  Deb slapped his arm.

  “Is that what you intellectuals call it these days?”

  Marcus grimaced in exasperation. “What do you want, Ty?”

  “Theo called me. How’s Deborah?”

  “I’m all right, Tyberius, thanks for asking.”

  They heard a strangled sound, as if Marcus’s brother was choking on his abhorred first name. Then a baby wailed.

  “Ah shit. Give me a minute, you two.”

  Marcus and Deb grinned at each other while the broody, ex-hockey player crooned to the whining infant. “Shush… You don’t want to wake up Mommy, do you? Here, say hello to Mr. Rabbit.”

  Deb wriggled on Marcus’s lap, barely able to contain her guffaw. He pushed her off him with a hushed groan. “Don’t start something we can’t finish. Ty?”

  “I’m here. Tell me why my twin sister yelled at me for half an hour, as if it were my fault you were in deep … trouble. And make it quick. Ann’s got a sixth sense when it comes to Abigail’s crying. I don’t want her to worry about you in addition to everything else.”

  “What ‘else’?”

  “You’ll understand when you have kids, Marcus. Quit stalling. Oh, and spare me the bawdy details, will you? We’ll talk about your sex life when the lady’s not around.”

  The named lady narrowed warning eyes on her husband, who quickly replied, “Or never.”

  Ty’s laugh boomed from the speaker. “Sure. Spill, Shakespeare.”

  Deb pricked up her ears, curious to hear what kind of net the writer in him had cast over the past thirty-six hours.

  Marcus cleared his throat. “In a few words? A psycho threatened the contestants running against Flint for the Sue Award. The ROSA committee didn’t take it seriously, or seriously enough, to warn the participants. I learned about it myself when Deb told me two days ago. Unfortunately for Sybil Reiner, it wasn’t just a scam. She was gunned down Thursday night. Another author ended up in the hospital, because of an allergy or poison, we don’t know. Then yesterday, despite the police swarming the place, Deb was kidnapped.”

  He laced his fingers with hers, maybe in hope the contact would erase those hours and the hollow terror they had brought. “But her assailant tipped me. I can’t make sense of that. He had already killed once. Why not a second time?”

  Deb inched closer to wrap his arm around her shoulders, shivering.

  “A warning?” Ty suggested on the other end of the line.

  Marcus shrugged. “Maybe. But then, we already had one when our rooms were ransacked.”

  “Yeah, Theo mentioned that, too. Was anything taken?”

  “No. He got my laptop when he took Deborah, and that’s all. It’s a bother, but compared to anything else that might…” Marcus trailed off, more than likely conscious of the woman gripping his hand. “It’s really nothing. I wanted to buy a new computer anyway.”

  Deb rolled her eyes. She imagined Ty doing the same.

  “So a lot of smoke, but no fire. No offense, Dee.”

  A knock on the door saved Deb from shooting back that it’d been hot enough on her side of things, thank you very much. By the scowl on his face, Marcus wasn’t exactly happy with Ty’s retort either, so she let the brothers bicker and went to open the door.

  “Sheriff.”

  “Miss Stone. I’m glad to see you’re up and kicking.”


  “Up, yes. Kicking … it’ll depend on that one’s behavior.” She pointed over her shoulder at the man on the couch.

  Pooley returned her half-smile. “I have four of those at home, not including the pets. I see what you mean.”

  Deb couldn’t help but stare at the first personal tidbit they had gotten from the stern sheriff in two days. Pooley coughed, her face taking back its customary blank expression. “Our interview with the spa clerks was fruitless. The only camera is in the spa lobby, but since neither the front desk girl nor the technicians remembered seeing you, it’s useless. Unfortunately, the backdoor is not covered by video camera.”

  “Isn’t the backdoor locked?”

  Pooley nodded at Marcus’s question. The end of his phone call had deepened the frown on his face that Deb wished she could blame on Ty’s abrasive manners. Pooley shook her head.

  “The spa is accessible to any guest of the resort. Chances are he used your own access card to unlock the door.”

  Deb thought for a second. “I didn’t have it. I left my key in Marcus’s room when we went out for lunch.”

  The sheriff squinted for a second before she returned her attention to her. “Then it’s worth checking the logs.”

  “What about the break-in? Did you find who’s responsible?”

  “Not yet.”

  Marcus snorted impatiently. The petite woman raised one hand. “I’m not giving you the ‘no-comment’ line, Mr. Turner. In fact, I’m here to discuss something with you. Can we sit down?”

  ****

  On the first floor, a glimpse at the ballroom confirmed the last-minute change of plans had been the right move. The place was swarming with cops who were ferreting everywhere. The shadow snorted in derision. They would find nothing. But tonight, liars and cheaters would pay in kind…

  Chapter Nine

  Marcus fumbled with his tie, his attention riveted to the dream in gilded satin at the dresser. Deb clipped her hair aside. The curls spiraled over one shoulder, leaving the other free. She admired the effect in the mirror with a little moue. “What do you think? Hair up? Or down?”

  He finally completed the knot and joined her at the dresser. “I like it this way.”

  Marcus dropped a kiss on the naked skin between the curve of her shoulder and the sequined strap of her dress. His nose caught a whiff of the perfume she must have dabbed on her throat, something sultry and mysterious that shot straight below his belt. He took a prudent step back. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

  Deb held up her hand so he helped her to her feet. The fabric flowed along her body, catching the light in gold streaks. The way her curves moved freely under it finished drying his mouth.

  “Thank you. You look quite dashing yourself.”

  She arranged his tie, brushing those curves against his chest with a wicked smile. Of course she’d noticed his retreat and decided to tease him. Marcus pulled one hand from behind his back.

  “Here.”

  Cautious surprise flashed in her smoky eyes instead of mischievous amusement, as she eyed the palm-sized box, then him. “A bribe?”

  “A promise. Open it.”

  She did, with a quick catch of breath. The rose gold curved band gleamed between velvet rims. Deb wet her lips. “It looks a little lost in such a big box.”

  Her voice wavered a little, telling him he’d chosen correctly.

  “Better to rescue it, then. May I?”

  The ring slipped easily onto her fourth finger. Marcus brought her hand to his lips to kiss it. Deb laughed and launched herself into his arms. “Thank you!”

  “Oh… Does this mean you don’t want the matching piece?”

  She detached herself from him, suddenly remembering the too-large box he still held in his left hand. “What matching piece?”

  Marcus plunged his free hand into his breast pocket, and extracted a tri-set-linked bangle bracelet, in the same shade of delicate gold and pink. “It doesn’t exactly match the color of your dress, but … happy anniversary.”

  Deb cocked up one perfect eyebrow to tamper the guilty pleasure shining on her face. “Definitely a bribe. We got married in February so it’s not our anniversary.”

  Marcus chuckled and then kissed her hard on the mouth. “You’re too literal about those things. Just accept the gift your devoted husband spent an hour chasing after, while you tried on every single pair of shoes this afternoon.”

  The eyebrow moved higher. “Devoted?”

  “Devoted, besotted, and everything in between. Come on, now, let’s go downstairs before they eat all the hors-d’oeuvres. I’m famished.”

  Deb moved away from him to pick up a hand purse matching her dress, then hooked her hand around his elbow. “I don’t know how you can be hungry. My stomach is tied into knots. This plan is crazy. You’re playing the bait—”

  “To be literal again, I am not. That’s the beauty of Pooley’s little stunt. Ready?”

  “If I say no, will you change your mind?”

  Marcus kissed her powdered cheek. “We’ll be fine.”

  Deep down, he wasn’t so sure about that. But it was too late to back out now.

  ****

  Standing in front of the mirrored wall of the elevator, Eden gave her image a critical look. The black and champagne chiffon dress was a bit shorter than she would have liked. She shrugged, arranging a strand of hair behind her ear. She doubted any of those paysans knew the difference between cocktail attire and an evening gown. She liked the asymmetrical hemline over the straight skirt. At least its ruffles gave the illusion of length, and they would not block her movements. The scoop neck assured she would not make a fool of herself if she needed to break into a run.

  This copper-skinned sheriff was not to be trusted. Sang-mêlé never were. One way or the other, she had no intention of being on the receiving end if/when things became blown out of proportion.

  Eden straightened her back before she strode out of the elevator.

  ****

  Josepha Pooley arranged the folds of her palazzo slacks so it would hide the holster at her ankle. The 9-mm Glock was lighter than her service semi-automatic, but the weight still made her walk like a limping badger. She shrugged the thought off. She was here to catch a murderer, not to parade on a runway.

  The room filled quickly. The gala dinner, the last event of the conference, would host about a hundred guests. Some looked absolutely ridiculous in too-tight dresses or ill-fitted suits. Others, well, others had class, with a capital C.

  Eden Guillot portrayed money and high-class education all the way from the impeccable hairdo to the curve of her disdainful smirk. The pretty blonde was feigning interest in Rachel Hunter’s never-ending chatter.

  Suddenly, Eden pinched her lips. Pooley turned her attention to the couple at the reception table at the entrance of the ballroom. Now, those two made a picture. Deb Stone glowed, in every sense of the word. Her dress shone in the dim light, and if the peacock-like beam of her escort was any indication, Marcus Turner was rather pleased with the sight. The brunette’s smile paled a little when she noticed the sheriff, but she nodded politely before Marcus swept her away to their table.

  Pooley narrowed her eyes on the vigil she’d put at the door. Her man shook his head. They were still missing some of the attendees. The sheriff bobbed her head once, then resumed her survey of the room. She’d planned to have everybody’s room searched once they were occupied. She would just wait for the circus to begin.

  ****

  “She’s here.” Deb tightened her grasp on Marcus’s elbow. The room seemed to have shrunk the moment she spotted the petite woman in the corner, surveying the colorful crowd like a hawk.

  “I know. I saw her.”

  “Do we go and say hello?”

  She hoped with all her heart he would refuse. If they stayed far from the sheriff, maybe that mad scheme would not come to fruition. The people around them chattered, exchanging compliments or gossip, unsuspecting.

  Marcus shook his hea
d. “Actually, it’s Eden I have to talk to.”

  From Charybdis to Scylla.

  Rachel was frowning at the blonde as if she were ready to kill her. The glare on both women suggested acrid comments and sneaky insults Deb wasn’t in the mood for. “Do we really have to?”

  “Hello, I’m Elizabeth Wolski.”

  The lonely elf with a tumble of dark red copper curls offered a bashful grin.

  Deb felt Marcus’s biceps tauten under her hand, though he nodded politely. “Good evening. I’m Marcus Turner, and this is my wife, Deborah.”

  “Oh, I know who you are.”

  The chuckle chilled Deb to the bone.

  ****

  “What do you mean, ‘not here’? You assured me… This is unacceptable, totally unprofessional.”

  Eden did her best to contain the growl boiling in her throat. Once again, she had to mop up after Marcus while he paraded his idiotic wife around as if she were the eighth wonder of the world. And Rachel Hunter whined, and complained, and threw a tantrum in the middle of the packed ballroom. She wished she could swat the wench but, unfortunately, the ROSA president was among the most influential people in the industry, so Eden swallowed her gall.

  “I am as puzzled as you are, Rachel. Our agency knows how important this conference is, and how much people were excited about this evening. I assure you this delay is absolutely out of our control.”

  “Whatever. Oliver!”

  The insufferable woman spun on her heels without even a word to excuse herself. Eden let out an exasperated huff. Marcus had better outdo himself with his next book, after all she endured for it.

  ****

  The sheriff completed her circuit at the guest table. The dynamic duo that had welcomed the attendees for the past hour was gathering tags and rolls of free-drink tickets. The petite woman approached her deputy. “Anyone missing?”

  “Five in total.” He took out a pocket pad. “Sponsor Leonard Orseti and guest. Doctor Terry Fueller. Nominee R.J. Flint. I couldn’t get what the initials mean. And a Mrs. Corina Sanchez. That one touched base, apparently stuck at home with a sick daughter.”