Death, Taxes, and Peach Sangria (24 page)

“See?” I said. “You are witty.”

“And you really need to do that laundry.”

Good.
The pile of dirty clothing was already bugging her. If I could muster up enough panties
to get me through a few more days she’d cave and wash it for me. It was sneaky and
underhanded, but, hey, it’s not like she wasn’t getting anything in return. I’d given
her a free place to live, unwavering support, and, by my best estimate, 243 gallons
of peach sangria.

We ran through the personality test next. I answered each question truthfully, curious
to see what type of man it would suggest for me. When I finished my responses, Alicia
pushed the “enter” button.

The computer churned and churned and churned, the timer in the middle of the screen
continuing to circle incessantly as the system tried to find men who would be a good
match for me. It seemed to be having a hard time.

“Has it frozen up?” I asked after a couple of minutes.

Alicia eyed the screen. “I’m not sure. Let’s give it another minute.”

A moment later the screen popped up with just one match. I was as pitiful as Josh,
huh?

I clicked on the link to view the file. A photo popped up on the screen, a photo of
a gorgeous dark-haired man bearing a mildly annoyed expression.

Nick.

“Wow,” Alicia said. “There are thousands of men on this site. What are the odds of
him being your only match?”

I had no idea. But I did know one thing. I was definitely interested.

I checked the box and hit the “submit” button.

Alicia held out her hand. “You owe me fifty-nine bucks.”

chapter twenty-four

Knock Knock. Who’s There?

A knock on the door woke me at nine the next morning. Both of my parents were coming
to visit this weekend, having agreed to serve as decoy clients to help Eddie and me
nab Beauregard. But their appointment with Beau wasn’t until one o’clock and they
wouldn’t arrive until late morning.

I put a pillow over my head, figuring the person at my door was a salesman who’d eventually
give up and go away. No such luck. The knocks were still coming five minutes later,
louder and more insistent than ever.

I tossed my pillow aside and went downstairs, bouncing off the stairwell wall in my
half-awake state. Annie trotted along after me.

Muttering curses under my breath, I yanked the door open. Not what home security experts
would recommend, but with my bed head, no makeup, and wrinkled pajamas I figured I
was horrifying enough to scare away any potential solicitor or home invader.

But it wasn’t a salesman or burglar on my porch.

It was Nick.

He wore faded jeans, cowboy boots, and a brown cable-knit sweater that brought out
his whiskey-colored eyes. He also wore that chipped-tooth smile that had captured
my heart.

“Hungry?” He stepped into my foyer without waiting for an invitation.

Not sure what he had in mind, I shrugged and nodded simultaneously, hedging my bets.

“Great. Let’s go out for breakfast.” He eyed my wild hair and gestured in the general
direction of my face. “After you do something about that.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and he chucked me on the chin.

“Get moving,” he said. “I’m starved.”

I went upstairs and rushed through my morning rituals. A quick shower, tooth brushing,
minimal makeup. I pulled my hair back in a twist, securing it with a claw clip. A
pair of jeans, tennis shoes, a sweatshirt, and I was done.

I went back downstairs to find Annie cuddled in Nick’s arms. He was scratching her
under the chin and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Oh, to be that cat.

He set her down in the foyer while I grabbed my purse. Out the door we went.

When I climbed into his truck, I noticed an unmistakable hint of perfume. Once Nick
had settled in and backed out of the driveway, I said, “Your date wore Red Door, huh?”

“Yeah. Way too much of it, too.” He cracked the windows for ventilation and turned
the heater on to fight the morning chill that seeped in. “I dropped her off at ten
last night. You’d have thought the smell would be gone by now.”

Ten, huh?
Sounded like I’d worried unnecessarily about Nick putting moves on the woman. Any
date that ended so early hadn’t gone well.

Thinking about Nick’s date got me wondering about Josh. My coworker and I didn’t talk
much, but I knew the men in the office routinely shared their conquests over coffee
and donuts in the kitchen. Of course 99 percent of it was probably pure bullshit.

“What’s the word on Kira?” I asked. “Has she booted up Josh’s laptop? Tested his hard
drive? Discovered how much RAM he’s got?”
Maybe bitten his neck with those pointy teeth and sucked his blood?

“Josh hasn’t logged onto Kira’s system yet,” Nick said. “But he did get to play with
her function keys.”

I only hoped he knew how to operate a woman’s programs. If not, her entire system
could shut down.

Shortly thereafter Nick and I were seated across from each other in a corner booth
at a neighborhood café, sipping coffee while we waited for our pancakes to arrive.
I’d ordered the short stack with fruit. Nick had gone for a full platter with sausage
links on the side.

Nick set his mug on the table. “So, giant penis, huh?”

Oh, God.
I’d forgotten Alicia had written that in my bio for the Big D site.

“Alicia signed herself up.” I shrugged. “Then we were just goofing around.”

“Uh-huh.” Nick eyed me. “How many men did the computer match you with?”

I held up my index finger.

“Just one?” The grin quirking about his mouth said Nick found my response amusing.
He narrowed his eyes and looked at me, pondering. “I suppose there aren’t many men
who could keep up with a woman like you.”

I noticed he’d said “keep up with” rather than “put up with.” That was promising,
huh?

“When’s Brett coming back?” he asked. “Maybe he could do your laundry.” He slid a
grin my way.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve only talked to him twice since he’s been in Atlanta.”
He’d sent me a few short texts, but those hardly counted as communication, especially
when they were primarily rants about the beetles.

Damn bugs are everywhere!

Beetles ate the 9th hole green.

Die, beetles! Die!

He’d also sent me a number of texts about the food.

The club serves a kick-ass mushroom omelet.

I’ve eaten so much tiramisu I’m growing love handles.

Fiona’s homemade peach ice cream is the best!

Fiona? Brett and the chef were on a first-name basis now? He’d mentioned meeting the
chef a while back, noted that she’d treated him and his crew to ice-cold lemonade
and specially prepared meals, but he’d failed to mention her name. In fact, he’d failed
to mention that the chef was a woman. I’d assumed it was a man. Probably sexist of
me, but there you go.

Nick cocked his head. “Just two phone calls?”

“Yep,” I said, “and short ones at that.”

Nick grunted in reply.

The waitress swung by with a coffeepot and topped off our mugs.

I added another packet of sugar, stirred, and took a sip of the hot brew. “How does
it feel to be back in the saddle? Having all those women chase after you?” It had
to be an ego trip. Then again, while Nick was cocky and confident, he was far from
an egomaniac.

“Honestly? I’ve been underwhelmed. Most of them seem to be gold diggers looking for
a sugar daddy.” He took another sip of his coffee. “One of them even insulted my truck.”

Putting down a man’s pickup? That was pure sacrilege. “I hope you put her in her place.”

“You know it.” Nick raised his mug as if in salute. “That truck brought me back to
freedom. I’m going to drive it until the wheels fall off.”

I shot him a pointed look. “That truck didn’t drive itself down to Mexico, you know.”

He shot me a pointed look right back. “I’m well aware of that fact. But all I’ve got
right now is the truck.” His pointed look morphed into a sexy grin. “If you were mine,
I’d drive you until your wheels fell off, too.”

It was a lousy metaphor, but it still gave my nether regions a flutter.

“What about Natalie?” I asked.

The sexy grin turned wicked. “Are you suggesting a threesome?”

I rolled my eyes. Admittedly, though, I felt sexually frustrated. With Brett gone
and Nick being the stud muffin he was, who could blame me? “Come on, Nick. I’m serious.
I don’t want to call things off with Brett only to find out you and Natalie got back
together.”

Nick let out a long breath. He gave his head a shake. “Natalie and me? That’s nothing
you need to be concerned about.”

“You’re sure?”

He gave me a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m sure.”

That was a relief.

The waitress plunked my short stack in front of me and Nick’s platter in front of
him. We took turns with the syrup, grabbed our forks, and dug in.

chapter twenty-five

Taking Another Go at Beau

My dad’s pickup was parked in my driveway when Nick and I returned from breakfast.
Alicia’s Audi was gone. She’d planned to swing by her and Daniel’s apartment today
while he was working to pick up some more clothes and things. Looked like she’d be
my roommate indefinitely. I hated for her to be suffering, but I had to admit that
it was nice to have her around. It would be even nicer if she’d wash a load of whites.

I climbed out of Nick’s truck and caught a whiff of roses. I glanced over at my town
house, at the row of pink rosebushes Brett had lovingly planted for me. The bushes
sported their last blooms of the season, still flowering but fading fast. Soon it
would be time to snip them back to bare nubs. Whether they would survive the unpredictable
North Texas winter and flower again in the spring remained to be seen.

The bushes were the perfect metaphor for my relationship with Brett.

Nick followed me inside to say hello to my parents. We found them in the kitchen.

Mom stood from the table and gave Nick a hug, shooting me a questioning yet hopeful
look over his shoulder. “Nice to see you again, Nick.”

Dad stood and shook Nick’s hand. “How ya doin’, son?”

Nick inquired about the purpose of my parents’ visit.

I set my purse on the counter. “They’re helping me and Eddie today,” I said, explaining
about the latest developments in the Beauregard case and my plans to deploy my parents
as decoy clients.

“If you’d like some extra manpower,” Nick said, “I’d be happy to help you and Eddie
out.”

Given that Beauregard had managed to escape two of the office’s best agents before,
it couldn’t hurt to have another agent along to assist. “That would be great. Thanks.”

“No plans for the day, Nick?” Mom asked him, shooting me another look, one that said,
So he’s still available, huh?

“I’m going shopping for a bass boat,” Nick said, “but I can do that later this afternoon.”

At the mention of a fishing vessel, Dad’s ears perked up. “A bass boat, you say?”

Nick nodded. “Lu talked to the higher-ups at the IRS and got me back pay for the three
years I was stuck in Mexico. I just received the check. Figured I’d treat myself.”

Dad’s blue-gray eyes grew starry. He’d always dreamed of owning a bass boat himself.
Sending three kids to college had taken precedence, though. He’d had to settle for
a johnboat with what he called a “sissy” motor. The substandard boat hadn’t affected
his fishing, though. He’d held the county record for the biggest bass until last year
when an eight-year-old kid had landed one three ounces heavier, with some help from
his uncle.

Nick must’ve noticed my father salivating. “If the women don’t mind, maybe you could
come along with me, give me your opinion.”

Dad looked to Mom for permission. She rolled her eyes but waved her hand. “I’d love
to get you out of my hair for a few hours.”

A half hour later we headed out, Nick and Dad in Nick’s truck and Mom and me in my
BMW. We met up with Eddie at a junior high a mile from the Denny’s restaurant where
my parents were to rendezvous with Beauregard.

Eddie didn’t seem all that surprised to see that Nick had come along. He just looked
from me to Nick and back, his brow and lip quirking. “Something going on between you
two?”

My “no” was drowned out by Nick’s “maybe.”

Eddie and Nick chuckled.

“Women,” Eddie said. “They’re nothing but trouble. Am I right?”

“Amen,” Dad said, earning him a “hush” and a glare from my mother.

Beau had arranged to meet another client at the restaurant, too. It was the last weekend
before the extended October 15 tax return deadline and no doubt he was busy.

I supplied my parents with phony W-2s and brokerage statements, along with fictionalized
sales records from a purported Mary Kay cosmetics business operated by my mother.
We had to ensure their return would take sufficient time to prepare so that Eddie,
Nick, and I could get into place for the takedown.

Ten minutes before their scheduled appointment time, Nick gave my parents the keys
to his truck. We three agents loaded into Eddie’s fleet car. Eddie followed my parents
at a safe distance. While my parents parked and went into the restaurant, Eddie took
a few turns around the neighborhood, looking for Beauregard’s beat-up Suburban.

“There it is.” I pointed down a nearby side street where the SUV was parked. Beau’s
camp trailer with the Puma logo was hooked up to it. Looked like he’d been on the
move.

Eddie pulled to the curb a block down and the three of us donned our ballistic vests
and raid jackets.

Eddie slid his gun into his hip holster. “One of us should keep an eye on his car
in case he makes a break for it.”

Chances were Beauregard would never make it back to his car, and neither Nick nor
I wanted to miss out on the action. We hadn’t become special agents to sit on the
sidelines and play it safe. The only fair thing was to settle the dispute with rock-paper-scissors.
I won, paper over rock. I took advantage of the situation to touch him, wrapping my
hand around his fist as if to demonstrate how paper beats rock. It felt good to touch
him, to connect with him physically, even if only in jest and for a brief moment.