Authors: Sophie Mouette
‘How do you know all these people?’
Valerie made one of her 1930s-movie-star gestures. ‘Oh, here and there.’ Then she looked around as if seeing who was nearby. Seeing no one paying attention, she put her arm around Katherine’s shoulder as if trying to draw her closer to whisper. She pressed her fingernails into Katherine’s upper back as she did so, galvanising her attention and making her struggle to maintain composure.
‘Some of them are old friends from our LA days and some of them I know from when I was on the board of The Nature Conservancy. But others I know from more interesting contexts. You see that group, for example?’ Valerie pointed towards three men and two women, the men elegant in tuxedos, the women in gowns straight from the pages of
Vogue
. ‘One of them is a full-time slave and another is the slave-owner. One of them is into the adult-baby thing. Another likes to mummify people in plastic wrap, and the last is wearing a chastity belt. Would you like one of those, my dear? I’d enjoy knowing you were suffering for me. And I’d make it up to you later.’
Katherine bit her lip as heat surged through her. A paradox, but the idea of a chastity belt turned her on.
Valerie added, ‘I’ll leave it up to you to chat with them and figure out which is which. There will be a quiz later. You’d better pass it.’ She smiled evilly. Then she looked towards the door and her evil smile faded. ‘Oh dear, Richard’s arrived already. I was hoping he’d be running late. Teasing you here is such fun.’ She lowered her voice even more. ‘As soon as you can, go into the bathroom and take your panties off. I’ll check on you later.’ Then she raised her voice back to a normal pitch. ‘Must dash and mingle! Ta!’
She pulled Katherine’s hair surreptitiously and melted away into the crowd.
Knees weak, Katherine leant on the bar for support. She might as well take the panties off. They were soaked through anyway.
* * *
They burst into the café. Felicia was in the lead, trying to look like her furious mood was no more than normal event-planner frenzy. Alan and Mel were close behind.
Despite the air conditioning, the room was sweat-inducingly hot thanks to the row of chafing dishes along the counter. All of the tables and chairs had been piled along one wall, except for a row of tables that was being used as a staging and food-prep area. Small dishes of shrimp cocktail were lined up, ready to go. For a kitchen where nefarious plots were taking place, it smelt remarkably good.
Debbie wasn’t enough of an actress to disguise the panic that bloomed in her eyes. Lance quickly dropped his eyes and busied himself washing something in the sink behind the counter.
‘Debbie, can I talk to you for a moment? In private?’ Felicia asked evenly. She didn’t want to panic the two chef’s assistants that Debbie had brought with her.
‘I’m
insanely
busy!’ Debbie said, plastering a false smile on her face. ‘Really, no time. Can it wait until the main courses are out?’
‘No, it can’t,’ Felicia said. ‘This is important.’ She gestured to the back door.
‘But I really can’t –’
‘Yes, you can,’ Alan said in such a strident tone that Felicia jumped.
‘I love it when he uses his cop voice,’ Mel whispered to her.
In two strides he was next to Debbie, simultaneously unhooking the handcuffs from his belt and flicking them open. Debbie jerked in an attempt to bolt, but he had one hand behind her and cuffed before she got anywhere. In a blur of motion, he had her second wrist imprisoned.
‘I’ve always enjoyed doing this to a hot blonde,’ he commented to nobody in particular.
Felicia decided she was just
so
not going to go there.
‘You can’t do this!’ Debbie protested.
‘Yes, I can,’ Alan said calmly. ‘And, trust me, it’s my pleasure. It’s what’s called a citizen’s arrest. I’ll turn you over to the cops when they arrive.’
‘No, you’ve got it all wrong!’ Debbie changed her tack. ‘It wasn’t me! It’s him – he’s the juvenile delinquent.’ She jerked her chin at Lance.
Lance glanced from Debbie to Felicia. His expression was inscrutable, but Felicia guessed he was prepared to be accused – he’d dealt with the ‘once a bad boy, always a bad boy’ assumption enough in his life.
‘Nice try, but now you’ve really pissed me off,’ Felicia said. ‘We already know he’s on our team, honey. He’s the one who took pictures of you doctoring the plates.’ To Alan, she added, ‘Take her out back until the police get here.’ The area between the buildings was cordoned off so none of the guests could wander into the work area.
Lance stuck his tongue out at Debbie’s departing back.
‘You and you.’ Felicia pointed to the two assistants. ‘Were you in on this?’
Before they could answer, Lance broke in. ‘They’re not, unless she paid them off while I was in the bathroom. I know them – they’re both from Bella Lugosi, where I work.’
‘Well?’ Felicia asked the two.
They both shook their heads, eyes wide.
‘Good.’ Hands on her hips, she surveyed the food all over the kitchen – any of which might have been messed with – and the meagre staff.
She should have been panicking. A very tiny voice in the far depths of her brain was screaming and running around in circles. But the truth was, she was calm. She could feel the adrenalin surging through her body. Fight or flight.
They were going to fight. And they were going to win.
‘Here’s the deal,’ she said. ‘I need to confer with Mrs Turner and make a phone call. I’m also going to get more help in here. Somehow, inexplicably, we’re going to pull this thing off.’
Lance hesitatingly raised his hand.
She couldn’t hold back the smile. ‘This isn’t detention, Lance,’ she said. ‘Toss out any ideas you have.’
‘I’m, uh, taking cooking classes at the community college,’ he said. ‘And doing an online course in restaurant management. I think I know what we can do.’
‘Excellent. Get started. I’ll be right back.’
Stepping outside the café, she glanced along the rows of tables. When she found Valerie Turner, she saw the woman looking at her. Felicia nodded once. Valerie eased her chair back and stood.
Katherine, thankfully, was at the other end of the pavilion, chatting with somebody. Felicia knew she’d have to tell her boss what was going on soon, but this had to be done first.
* * *
The police arrived in record time. It must have been a slow night in Addison.
Felicia’s calm had slipped when she imagined how the guests would react when two people – including a respected board member – were escorted out in handcuffs. There was no way to get Richard into the main building without him suspecting something was going on, and bolting.
Valerie told her not to fret, dear.
The older woman grabbed a wineglass and spoon, tapped until everyone quieted down and looked at her.
‘We have a special treat for you all tonight,’ she said. ‘You’ve all been so very generous, and I know there’s some frantic bidding going on with some of the items in the silent auction, too. But we have one final fun way for you to play with your money.’
She couldn’t have timed it more perfectly if she’d tried. Or maybe she had. Felicia was slowly falling in awe of Valerie Turner. Maybe – just maybe – she wasn’t such a loon after all.
As she was making her speech, the police walked up.
Valerie continued, ‘You’ve probably all heard of this fundraising activity before. We throw someone in “jail” –’ she waggled her fingers in the universal symbol for quotation marks ‘– and you have to pledge money to raise bail to get the person out of jail. Sound like fun?’
She asked the question in such a way that nobody dared answer in the negative. There was applause and even a few shouts from those who had already made good use of the bar.
‘Excellent! I’m delighted to announce that our prisoner of the hour is our very own board member, Richard Enoch!’ Richard was sitting at a small cocktail table near her. She blew a flamboyant kiss at him and winked, every inch the dizzy society lady who’d had maybe a little too much of the champagne.
Felicia thought it was a little dicey, announcing him before the police officers were very close to him. But Richard rose, made an awkward half-hearted attempt to run, stumbled and was in custody pretty much before he knew what hit him. He started struggling ineffectually against the burly officers and shot a dismayed glance in Valerie’s direction. She cooed and patted him on the cheek as some of the more inebriated guests got into the spirit of things and shouted, ‘Lock ’im up and throw away the key!’ It probably looked like cute byplay, but Felicia could just imagine what he’d seen in Valerie’s eyes.
He sagged and let the officers lead him away.
Felicia glanced over her shoulder and saw Alan hand Debbie over to the police as well. There went the caterer…
Crap. The food.
Katherine had made her way through the crowd, a worried crease furrowing her brow, and Felicia simply dragged her into the café, leaving the crowd in Valerie’s hands. (Hands that were more capable than Felicia ever expected. Either that, or Valerie’s moment of sane clarity would end as swiftly as it had begun, and chaos would reign once again. Right now, Felicia didn’t have time to worry about it.)
At the same time, Gabe returned from his run to get more ice. The bag slung over his shoulder, he cast a curious glance at the departing officers, dropped the ice unceremoniously on the bar, then followed Felicia and Katherine into the café, eyebrows raised. ‘So it
was
Richard all along!’ he said.
‘What was Richard all along?’ Katherine demanded. ‘And why did they arrest the caterer, too?’
‘We only have time for the short version,’ Felicia said briskly. ‘We can worry about details after the benefit is over. Richard was behind all the sabotage and donor messes, because he’s part-owner in the company that wanted to buy the land. He hired Debbie to cook the food, and she tried to poison the guests. Lance, bless his heart, caught her before it was too late.’
Lance, hearing his name, glanced up from where he was chopping watermelons. He’d stripped off his shirt, and hints of a tattoo on his muscled chest peered around the white chef’s apron he was wearing. He wiped sweat off his brow with his forearm, saluted them with the wicked-looking cleaver, and went back to work.
‘Are those the cats’ watermelons?’ Katherine asked weakly.
Watermelons were one of the tigers’ favourite toys, and people often donated them to the Sanctuary.
‘I washed them off,’ Mel said without glancing up from the chafing dish she was stirring. She had a chef’s hat perched jauntily on her pixyish hair. ‘The salads were trashed, thanks to that bitch, but Lance had the idea of serving fruit as a starter course. It’ll buy us some time.’
‘She hadn’t mixed up the dressing yet.’ Lance didn’t miss a beat in his chopping. ‘So I did a sweet and hot thing. Saw it on the Food Network the other day, only they used fresh chillies so I winged it with some of the chipotle dipping sauce from the appetisers. Now I just need to get it portioned. About a third of a cup into each bowl.’
Since he was still chopping, it was clearly a plea for help. Felicia picked up a spoon and gingerly began filling small bowls with the watermelon chunks. She’d hardly call herself a culinary whiz but, if Mel (who kept nothing but pet food and coffee in her kitchen) could tend the chafing dish, she could plate things – as long as she had very clear directions.
‘What about the dessert?’ the smaller and younger of the cook’s assistants asked out of the blue. ‘I mean, she brought that with her, and it’s this dark-chocolate mousse cake flavoured with Amaretto. You could hide anything in that.’
‘Toss it,’ Lance said, his voice surprisingly confident. ‘Anyone who’s ever watched a murder mystery knows cyanide tastes like almonds. I don’t think the bitch would be that crazy, but why risk it? And there’s always chocolate Ex-Lax and shit like that. Someone should go get like fifty gallons of ice cream and some good hot fudge sauce.’
This time no one bothered correcting his language. Felicia, for one, was too busy being stunned by the way Lance seemed so in his element in a busy kitchen.
Mel stopped stirring for a second and looked imploringly at Gabe. ‘I’ll go if you take over this sauce.’
He shrugged and slipped out of his suit jacket. She handed him her chef’s hat, and he put it on with a flourish and winked at Felicia as he took over stirring the sauce. They were now almost shoulder to shoulder at the counter.
Felicia inched over so they were brushing against each other. It wasn’t much, but the contact was reassuring. And she loved the way he’d calmly jumped into the breach.
‘Use the supply credit card.’ Katherine said. ‘We’ll figure out the bookkeeping later.’
Speaking was a mistake. It drew attention to the director, who’d been hovering by the door, clearly hoping to escape the chaos and get back to chatting up donors. ‘Hey, you with the red hair,’ the other cooks’ helper, a round, motherly-looking black woman, said to Katherine. ‘You look like you know your way around a grill. Keep an eye on the steaks, OK? The vegetarian entrée needs me.’
Evening gown and all, Katherine shrugged and obeyed.
It was a good thing she’d moved out of the doorway then. A small herd of waiters filed in looking for the starter course, which wasn’t quite ready. Felicia began spooning faster, trying to keep it neat and keep low-flying watermelon away from her silk dress, but not succeeding completely at either.
‘How can I help?’ someone said, and José squeezed in between her and Lance. ‘Mel left a note saying to get over here as soon as I could. So here I am.’
He was talking to Felicia, but Lance answered. ‘Help her.’
Felicia sensed a few seconds of tension as José tried to process Lance actually being in charge. Then he smiled and grabbed a spoon.
The first trays of watermelon salad were whisked out of the kitchen.
And under the cover of that ruckus, Gabe stroked his fingers down Felicia’s bare back, making her shiver with delight.
Maybe cooking for several hundred wasn’t so bad – in the right company.
A check-in volunteer appeared, still clutching a plastic glass of red wine. ‘I thought we could mingle once the party started,’ the girl said, ‘but some older lady in a Gothy dress said to go to the kitchen and tell Dr O’Dare it’s time for her speech. And you’re Dr O’Dare so I guess I’m…grilling?’ She looked as confused as someone who’d been whisked out of a cushy volunteer job mingling with local high society to cook very well might.
The assistant who’d originally been manning the grill swooped down and poked at a steak with a fork. ‘No, you’ll be plating. After Dr O’Dare gives her speech, the main course has to go out.’ Then her eyes grew wide, realising she’d commandeered the executive director to tend the steaks.
Katherine grinned and fled.
And the other assistant took over Gabe’s sauce, freeing him to start plating. As he moved away, he brushed Felicia’s hand, blew her a kiss.
Melt.
Yeah, even a crisis had merits, with the right people.
* * *
Felicia shoved the last of the leftover food – there wasn’t much, thanks to guests who’d been either ravenous or unable to resist ‘free’ food, or both – on to a shelf in the fridge. She closed the door firmly behind her and blew out a long breath. The café looked like a food fight had occurred.
However, José, Mel and Lance had all volunteered to do a massive washing-up session the next day. (It was odd – they seemed to be almost looking forward to it.) On Monday, Felicia would track down where all the chafing dishes and other cookware needed to be returned, given that Debbie wasn’t going to be in a position to do so.
She ticked off the rest of the mental list in her head. The tents and chairs would get picked up Monday morning as well; right now, the menfolk were stacking tables and chairs and otherwise making the lawn presentable again. She’d tackle thank-you notes and bookkeeping Monday afternoon.
Was that it? Was that really it? Was the benefit-from-hell, except for the paperwork, for all intents and purposes, really and truly over?
Insanely, she felt a curious sense of loss. The damn thing had been dominating her life for so long. Now, with the adrenalin finally draining away, she felt almost bereft. What would she do with herself now?
Her spirits perked up considerably when the door opened and Gabe walked in, carrying a bottle of champagne.
‘That looks heavenly,’ she said as he grabbed plastic cups from next to the soda dispenser.
‘We deserve it,’ he said. His shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, and he looked delectable.
She hadn’t yet asked him when he was flying back to New York. She hoped it wasn’t until tomorrow night (although there was the chance that yet another red-eye flight would, in fact, kill him). She still had enough energy in her for a romp, and she couldn’t think of anything more heavenly than the idea of sleeping in and then spending the rest of the day in bed, leaving it only to answer the door to pay the food-delivery person. And maybe to take a shower.
Yeah. She liked showering with him.
She tossed back the first cup of champagne giddily, registering crispness and nose-tickling bubbles but not really tasting it. ‘Just half,’ she said when she held it out for a second helping. ‘I still have to get myself home, and I’m just now realising how little I’ve eaten today. We can take the rest with us – unless there’s another bottle or two we can make off with.’
‘Felicia, we need to talk,’ Gabe said.
Her spirits plummeted again. He looked really, really serious. And everyone knew ‘we need to talk’ meant ‘I’m going to say something that you’re not going to like’. Now he was going to tell her about the wife back in New York. The wife and passel of children, all with gold-tipped hair like their daddy.
‘I know it’s kind of soon, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while,’ he said. ‘Well, part of it, anyway. I hadn’t met you yet. I just don’t want you to get scared that things are moving too fast, or –’
He hadn’t said ‘wife’ or ‘kids’, which was a good sign. The bad sign was that she didn’t understand any of it.
‘Gabe,’ Felicia said patiently, ‘what the hell are you babbling about?’
He took her hands in his. ‘The Zoological Association has been discussing opening a branch office in LA. One of the reasons I got the assignment to check out the Sanctuary was so that I could also look at office space and decide if I wanted the promotion.’
‘Promotion?’ Felicia echoed. OK, now her head was really swimming. Did he mean what she thought he meant? ‘You’re…moving out here?’
‘I was already considering it before I even met you,’ he said. ‘I’m not trying to scare you away, or let things get too serious too fast.’ He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. ‘But I’ll be honest: you’re definitely one of the reasons I told Tom I’d take the job. I’d like the opportunity to get to know you better.’
‘Um, OK,’ she said, unable to formulate a clearer response. Sunshine filled her, and it wasn’t from the champagne. He
still
hadn’t said ‘wife’ or ‘kids’, and she was now pretty darn sure he wasn’t going to.
‘We can take things as slow as we need to,’ he said.
‘Yes, let’s take it slow,’ she agreed cheerfully, and snaked her hand into his trousers.
‘Felicia!’ He sounded surprised, but not particularly shocked – and certainly not upset.
‘We can take the relationship as slow as we want to,’ she said, delighted to feel him twitch beneath her palm. ‘But we’ve already had a head start on the sex and, while slow has its merits, there’s nothing wrong with a quickie.’
‘Good point.’ The kiss he gave her sent shockwaves through her body. ‘Can’t get caught, though. I still haven’t finished my report – had to wait ’til after the benefit – and we don’t want anyone thinking that you unduly influenced me.’
Before she could ask where he proposed they go, he’d pulled her into the walk-in fridge, leaving the door open just a crack so they didn’t accidentally get locked in, and started kissing her again.
Felicia’s nipples budded from the cold of the fridge and the heat of arousal. No stress, no worries – no more benefit! – just intense, immediate desire.
She hadn’t bothered to find a longline bra to go with the dress, and her arousal was clear. Gabe brushed his thumbs over the peaks, sending a thrill through her.
‘Just like when we talked,’ he murmured. ‘But now I’m here.’ He dipped his head and sucked one of the nipples into his mouth, tugging and nipping in a rhythm that her clit picked up, pulsing in time. When he switched to her other breast, the cold air and wet silk felt like fire and ice, sending echoes between her legs.
He stopped long enough to drop his trousers and briefs. His erect cock jerked in the cold but lost none of its hardness. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said, then groaned when she wrapped her hand around him and stroked.
He turned her around, and she obligingly grabbed hold of the shelf in front of her, tilted her hips back and wiggled her ass at him. Normally, the icy metal shelf would have felt almost painful under her warm hands, but she was so heated now that the intense sensation became part of the experience. He shimmied her skirt up her hips to her waist and whistled at the sight of her mostly bare ass, which was bisected by a little fire-engine-red thong.
‘There’s a part of me that’s tempted to spend some time playing here,’ he said, running his hands over her sensitive curves, ‘turning your fine bottom as red as your thong. It would sting extra good in the cold, don’t you think?’
The only response she could manage was a long low moan because, as he spoke, he slipped one hand around her and under the scant front of the thong. He fondled her clit with long skilled strokes, bringing her to the edge but not quite – not yet – over it.
‘I think we’ll have enough time to explore that later,’ he continued. ‘Right now we should probably hurry before someone comes in. Can you hurry for me, Felicia? I want to feel you come.’
His coaxing voice was the final trigger. Her hips jerked as she convulsed through her orgasm.
A moment later he was sliding inside of her, clutching her hips for traction as he pumped. He felt so good, the length of him filling her, pressing into her. She thrust her hips back to meet his strokes, and felt herself building up, a giant wave rising inside her towards a crescendoed release.
Then, over the hum of the fridge and their simultaneous panting, she heard the café door bang open. They both froze. Felicia wanted to cry, she was so close.
‘Hello? Hello-oo!’
Oh no. She leant her forehead against the cold metal shelf in front of her. Valerie Turner.
‘Felicia, dear, are you in here? Hmm, I could have sworn I saw you come in here, but I didn’t see you leave.’
Gabe put his mouth right next to Felicia’s ear. ‘Don’t. Make. A. Sound,’ he said so quietly she almost couldn’t hear him. Did he really not realise she had no interest in ending their encounter to talk to Mrs Turner? Then she felt his lips touch her ear, felt his warm breath as he nibbled on her lobe.