Undercover Passion (2 page)

“No, you haven't. Why don't you tell me what you want and I'll try to direct you to the office where they can help you.” There you go. Maybe she could get rid of him.

“What do most people who come to this clinic want?” he countered.

“To improve their lives,” she said promptly. “To attain a natural state of well-being through nutritional counseling, a fitness regimen and self-awareness instruction.”

He shrugged. “Count me in.”

She studied him for a long moment, glanced at the tight, narrow set of his hips, the thigh muscles that bulged beneath the fabric of his slacks, then back at the cocky set of his shoulders and head.

Nope. She just wasn't buying it.

Of course, it was conceivable that the look of fitness and assurance was just a facade. Perhaps beneath that cocky exterior lay a hidden supply of raging neuroses. It was possible that this was all a front to hide his insecurities.

Possible, but not very likely. Not with that look in his eyes.

“What aspect of our services would you be interested in?” she asked him incredulously.

“The whole rigmarole I guess. Tell me about it.” Snagging an office chair, he swung down into the seat, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Do you have a brochure of your product line?”

“Yes. But it's not current. We're having new ones printed up that are more informative.” One of her main projects since she'd been hired earlier in the summer had been to revamp the marketing plan. “Tell you what. If you come to the seminar tomorrow night, I'll make sure you get a copy of the new ones.”

His nod was saying, “Okay,” but the look on his face was saying that wasn't going to satisfy him. “Why not just give me a brief rundown right now?”

She hesitated. “I hate to try to do that.” She slumped down into the chair behind the desk, then leaned toward him confidentially. “Okay, I'll be honest with you. Everything is in chaos right now. Once I get moved into this office and have
a chance to go over the inventory and the scheduling routines, I'll be able to give you a clearer picture. In the meantime…”

Reaching out, she picked up a flyer and handed it to him. “There you go. Seven-thirty on Tuesday, in the Blue Bayou Room.” Spinning in her chair, she took another look at the piles she still had to deal with.

“Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a lot of work ahead of me here.”

 

Daniel gazed at her speculatively. He knew he'd just been dismissed, but he wasn't going anywhere. He hadn't succeeded in getting any closer to the truth about what was going on at this clinic, but at least he'd made a start. Developing a relationship with Abby Edwards, PR person, should give him a lot of access to the inner workings of the place. Besides, he had to admit, he didn't mind the view.

She hadn't seemed all that attractive at first. Despite her luxuriously long brown hair and her deep-brown eyes with the golden flecks, she wasn't classically beautiful. In fact, his initial reaction had been negative. She'd come across as a know-it-all with a chip on her shoulder.

But once she'd settled down and started talking about her work here at the clinic, her natural warmth had taken over and her face had become animated in a way that was quite winning.

Abby Edwards wasn't so bad.

Still, she very much wasn't his type.

What was his type exactly? Hard to tell. A picture of Charlene flashed in his mind but he shoved it away. No, Charlene wasn't his type either. Experience had borne that out. In fact, he probably didn't have a type. He was just a guy wedded to his job. The fact that that job might be in jeopardy right now made that situation all the more bittersweet.

“You know I'm really interested in the work this clinic does,” he told her. “And I don't want to wait until tomorrow. Do you have any samples around that I could take a look at?”

“Samples?” She turned back, blinking at him. “Of what?”

“Your products. I understand you have a line of vitamins, for one thing.”

“Oh, sure. The vitamins are very popular. In fact, last year they outsold one of the national brands in the hospital pharmacy.”

Last year. That wasn't going to help his search. Whatever was going on here, it seemed to be of recent vintage. The vitamins didn't appear to be contenders. He was looking for something new, something that had just been introduced lately.

“I'll have to look into those vitamins,” he said smoothly. “In the meantime, have you got anything else?” Anything that might make a whole population of hospital workers turn into love-crazed androids? “Any elixirs? Love potions? Aphrodisiacs? Libido revivers?”

To his surprise, she reddened. “Hey, if you're looking for Viagra,” she began indignantly.

He straightened, horrified. “No, no!” Now he felt himself reddening, and that hadn't happened in years. “That's not what I meant.”

She bit her lip, then leaned toward him, losing the outrage and looking sympathetic.

“Not that there's anything wrong with that,” she said quickly. “If that's your problem, I'm sure that a regimen of exercise will really help. But you might want to consult a sex therapist.”

He groaned. “No, wait—”

“It's a common problem. Please don't feel that you have to hide it.”

“Hide it!” He choked. This was getting him in deeper and deeper. It wasn't funny. Well, maybe a little bit. But at the same time, it was damned humiliating.

“I don't have a problem,” he told her forcefully. “Listen, you took it wrong. I've never had any trouble….” His voice faded out. Looking at her sweet, innocent face, he just couldn't say it. “That way,” he said lamely at last. “Really. I'm a normal, healthy male.”

She was still looking sympathetic. Damn it all, she thought he was just covering up his embarrassment. There was definitely a good way to prove that she was wrong, but he didn't think she'd go for it. So he stared at her in frustrated silence, wondering how the conversation had taken a turn down this blind alley.

“I can give you a referral,” she was saying, digging through the papers on her desk for a note pad.

Reaching out, he grabbed her hand. “I don't need a referral,” he said firmly. “I don't need therapy. All I want to know is what sort of products you dispense here besides vitamins.”

She was staring at him in bewilderment and he
didn't blame her. He was coming darn close to shouting, and that wasn't going to help anything. He forced a smile, knowing it must look pretty ghastly.

“Hey,” he said, remembering something and releasing her hand. “Dr. Richie was saying something about a new product at the ribbon cutting last month. Something called NoGo or Nutrait or—”

“NoWait!” she chimed in, beaming with relief. “Yes, that is a new homeopathic oil he's developed himself. He's such a genius.”

“That's the one.”

“Oh, it's flying off the shelves. It's used for weight loss, and people are getting the most wonderful results.”

Right. He knew a little something about these snake-oil salesmen. If the oil was doing anything, it was through the power of suggestion, no doubt about it. Still, this could be the missing link he'd been looking for. Except for one thing. As he remembered, it wasn't something people took into their system in the usual way.

“It's not ingested, is it?”

“Oh, no.” She smiled. “In fact, it's kind of cute. You put a dab behind your ear.”

That pretty much shot down his hopes. If you didn't drink it or eat it, how could it change the way you acted to the extent it seemed to be changing the people he was seeing all over the hospital?

“One ear or both?” he asked with a rueful smile.

She blinked. “Tell you the truth, I'm not really sure. I haven't tried it myself.” She scrunched her nose at him. “And I hardly think you need to lose any weight.”

“You never know,” he said quickly, not wanting to go back to speculating on what he
might
be needing help with again. “I'm not getting any younger. And you know how weight tends to accumulate as you age.”

“Oh, sure.” She was nothing if not understanding. “You can never start working on fitness too early.”

He nodded. She was charming when she started talking about the things she felt most passionately about. She sort of lit up with an inner glow that was quite appealing. He wondered, fleetingly, if there was a man in her life. But he dismissed the thought as soon as it formed. De
spite her spunk, Abby was soft and sweet and seemingly naive—all the things he wasn't. The women he dated tended to be the women he met in the course of his workday, and as a cop, he mostly mixed with a fairly rough level of society. He wouldn't know what to do with a woman like this.

“So tell me about the exercise programs. What are they like?”

She perked up markedly, her eyes brilliant. “Now those I have tried. They're great, really the most comprehensive I've found anywhere. That was what made me so interested in joining Dr. Richie. I admire him so much. He's been able to do what is so difficult to do—marry serious health advantages with movements that are just really fun and relaxing to do.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “But can he walk on water?”

She looked startled. “What?”

“Nothing. I was just being rude.”

The way her face was shining as she spoke of the good doctor, Daniel felt a twinge of jealousy. Though he would face death rather than admit it.

“How much do you know about this Richie character?”

She drew herself up sternly. “Dr. Richie is a well-respected expert in the fitness field. It's a real honor to get this opportunity to work with him.”

She was cute in her righteous indignation, and he had trouble not grinning at her again. Could it be the exercises that were making people act crazy? It didn't seem likely. But he couldn't afford to overlook anything just because it didn't fit the pattern he expected.

“How about a demonstration of the exercises?”

“What— Right now?”

“Can you think of a better time?”

“Well, if you come to the seminar…”

“I'll come to the seminar. But I'd like to get a hint of what I'm letting myself in for.”

She frowned. She didn't want to do it. She glanced at her piles of supplies, still languishing on the floor, and he knew she wanted to get things finished here. But she was too polite to say so, and he actually felt a twinge of guilt over putting her in this position. But it was just a twinge. He could easily ignore it.

“Okay,” she said, just a hint of her reluctance
showing. Then she visibly put all that behind her and got into the swing of things. “Tell you what. I'll do it if you help.”

Her smile was impudent. And that made him suspicious.

“What? How can I help?”

“I know some really fun things for two people to do together,” she said happily.

He forced back a laugh. He knew a few fun things for two people to do together, too, but he had a feeling they weren't what she had in mind.

“Don't worry,” she told him. “I'll show you what to do.”

Reaching under her desk, she pulled out a large exercise mat and plopped it down in the middle of the room. “Okay, we are now going to demonstrate the Giaza.”

He was skeptical. He'd much rather watch than join in. “What is the Giaza?”

“It's a set of exercises.”

“Sounds more like a set of steak knives.”

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him to his feet. “Come on, mister. You asked for it, you got it. Come sit down cross-legged.”

“Like this?” He did as she'd ordered.

“You're nice and limber, aren't you? And athletic, I'll bet.”

He muttered something. For no known reason, he was suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

“Okay,” he said, settling down, hands on his knees. He was glad he'd worn fairly loose slacks. “What's next?”

“This is the two-person routine. I'm going to sit down, too. We'll be back to back.”

That seemed odd. “No kidding.”

“No kidding.” She stood before him and held her hands together in front of her stomach, looking like an Asian princess. “This is a way to center yourself and prepare for a more strenuous workout. It's mind over matter. See if you can tune into the wavelength where I'm floating.”

Oh, brother. Psychobabble. Still, he'd better keep his caustic comments to himself if he didn't want to get kicked out of her office.

“Okay,” he said gruffly. “What happens if I bump into you?”

She started to ask him what he meant, then stopped when she no doubt realized he was referring to the floating thing. She gave him a wry look instead and he had to give her points for getting it.

“Our spiritual selves don't bump,” she said lightly as she began to lower herself behind him. “They melt right into each other.”

“Hmm.” For some reason that appealed to him.

She settled in against him. “See? Back to back.”

“‘And belly to belly,'” he muttered to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing. This just reminds me of an old folk song. About zombies.”

He could feel her stiffen.

“Listen, I don't know what you've heard, but this clinic does not turn people into zombies. That's a slander put out by another clinic in town that is being left in the dust as Dr. Richie takes off.”

He paused, a bit taken aback by her vehemence. “It was just a joke,” he said softly.

She changed immediately. “I'm sorry. I'm just a little touchy about it.”

She settled back against him. “This exercise works better when the two are more evenly matched in size, but you can get the general idea. Raise your arms. Now sway with me.”

He raised his arms and swayed.

“Calm your mind. Let your eyelids droop. Think of water lapping on the white sands of a tropical beach. Feel it lap. Feel the hot sun on your shoulders. Feel the gentle breeze ruffle your hair.”