Lying Eyes Page 5

  He left the podium to loud applause and an equally loud round of laughter.

  *****

  Allison and Carlo had just returned to room 510 when his cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he turned aside. "Excuse me, I have to take this."

  "Sure," Allison said, returning her attention to the workshop schedule.

  "Hi, Mom. Sorry I haven't called. I should have let you know I'm working this weekend and won't be able to come by and see Snookums. Give her my love."

  Grinning broadly, he said, "If we get lucky, I might make it on Sunday night. If so, I'll see you then."

  Obviously embarrassed, he slipped the phone back in his pocket and cleared his throat.

  Leaning back against the headboard Allison grinned at him. "Snookums?"

  "My cat. I never should have allowed a stray to adopt me, but for some reason she took a liking to me and wouldn't leave. The colorful tabby wouldn't have survived long on my busy street. I couldn't turn her out."

  "How long have you had her?"

  "She lasted a month at my place. I'm almost never there, so I persuaded Mom to take her in and give me visitation rights. Both are extremely sociable and keep each other company. At my weekly visit with Snookums I can check on Mom, too, and she never realizes it."

  "Your mother isn't well?"

  "She's in reasonably good health, but has slowed considerably over the last six months. After Dad's death Mom had to find a job. She'd never worked before, and a housekeeping job at a nearby Marriot was the best paying work she could find. I did what I could, like hurrying home from school to clean our house and starting dinner so she wouldn't have to do anything, but working long hours for so many years took its toll on her."

  "You? Cook?" She had trouble picturing her uptight guardian ever dirtying his hands.

  He smirked. "I make a mean Portobello Paradiso with Marinara Sauce like my grandmother used to make. Most Italian men can cook, but don't let their wives find out."

  "Afraid of spoiling their macho image?"

  He grinned widely. "Something like that."

  She closed the workshop schedule, but kept her finger inside to hold her place. "Darn it. I can't decide whether to go to the 'Writing Sizzling Sex Scenes' workshop or the one about serial killers. Wouldn't you know both workshops are being presented at the same time. Which one should I choose?"

  "How should I know? Which one interests you most?"

  She swallowed a grin. I get such a kick out of teasing Carlo.

  "I think I'll go to the one about writing sex scenes. I love to watch you blush."

  "I do not blush."

  "Your ears do."

  Scowling, he glanced at his watch. "Don't move," he ordered her as he stood, yanked open the door to the adjoining room, and stalked inside.

  A drawer slammed and another one, followed by the sound of water running next door.

  He's brushing his teeth. Getting ready for the Welcome Party despite his reservations about us attending.

  She retouched her makeup, brushed her long hair until it stood away from her shoulders, and smiled at her wanton-looking reflection. Hair spray added the finishing touches to her toilette and a feminine scent to her room.

  Carlo returned and she could tell he'd noticed. His nostrils flared. Then he scowled the way she expected.

  "Too bad you never had a sister," she said.

  "Why?"

  "You would have learned when to compliment a lady and when to hold your tongue. Cheer up, though. You're never too old to learn."

  His eyebrow nearest her winged up. "Trolling for a compliment?"

  She slipped back into her shoes, his appreciative gaze now focused on her feet.

  "Hang on a minute." His hand shook as he invaded her space and adjusted an earpiece he'd placed in her ear.

  Tucking her evening purse beneath her arm, she jiggled her hips. "Ready to party, Detective?"

  Glaring at her, he visibly swallowed as he stuffed his conference badge in his back pocket. "Bring it on and whatever you do, try not to stand out in the crowd."

  "You're no fun."

  "I can't help it. I'm dreading these next two hours. How soon do you think we can make a polite exit?"

  "Tsk, tsk, Detective. Counting the minutes until you can bolt?"

  "The sooner the better, if I'm to keep you alive."

  Allison rolled her eyes.

  He said, "Ready to go," into his radio and turned to her. "When you hear the officers across the hall step out of Susan's room, unlock your door and step out. I'll secure this room, and go out through my door. Wait for me in the hall."

  Giggling about something Marsha said, she and Susan minced out of the room across the hall dressed to the nines.

  "My, my, don't you cleanup nicely?" Allison said as her new friends surrounded her, laughing and talking as if none of them had a care. She wholeheartedly wished she had no cares, too.

  Allison's heart beat skipped and her throat tightened.

  Carlo's hand automatically caressed the butt of his weapon as he stepped out into the hall and moved ahead of them.

  Funny how safe his confident movements make me feel.

  A door opened farther along the hall and a deep voice from within the darkened room said, "Evening, folks."

  She had no doubt more than one pair of eyes followed their progress along the hall, undercover Detective Oscar Hanson among them. What a hunk!

  She liked his eyes. He had honest eyes. No way could he have ever successfully lied to his mother. And when he smiled at Allison she—

  With a quiet swish the elevator doors slid open, interrupting her thoughts.

  Yanking her inside the empty glass enclosure Carlo asked, "Where are we going?"

  "To the ballroom on the second floor again. All the large gatherings will be held there."

  He pressed the proper floor and backed with her until they were both leaning against the rear wall of the elevator while Marsha and Susan formed a feminine wall shielding her.

  Are those women carrying? I can't imagine how.

  The elevator started down and stopped at the fourth floor.

  As the doors slid open and two men stepped inside, Carlo's left hand tightened on her waist. Yes, hold me closer.

  The businessmen continued their conversation about good places to eat near the hotel without acknowledging their presence. Carlo's grip on her waist eased.

  No, slide your hand back. To my surprise I'm growing accustomed to your protective touch.

  Her pulse raced. She tucked her hand in the bend of Carlo's elbow to steady herself.

  "Are you okay?" he whispered.

  She gave him a faint smile. For now, but I'm not certain I'll make it through the rest of the evening without throwing myself in your strong arms.

  The elevator again sighed to a halt and the four of them stepped out on the second floor, their badges and party faces firmly in place.

  "A hot fudge sundae station and a cheesecake buffet are two of the promised stations. I want a sundae first. What about the rest of you?"

  "Lead the way, Carlo," Marsha said.

  "No, you lead the way," he stoically countered. "I'll bring up the rear."

  So much for having fun.

  Allison checked to be sure her badge was visible and waited for the others to do the same and strolled into the crowded room.

  "See any suspicious characters?" she asked, glancing around.

  "You're more likely to notice an inexperienced bus boy or nervous waiter than we are," Carlo said.

  "What age?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine, so relax. Enjoy the party and let us worry about watching for the perp."

  An hour later, after downing two hot fudge sundaes she'd heaped with nuts and whipped cream, munching tons of roasted cashews, and sipping two small glasses of champagne, she allowed Carlo to extricate her from the party and escort them to the fifth floor.

  He'd made a memorable impression on the conference chairman, who even attempted t
o get her hands on his holstered weapon while Allison stood at his side silently grinding her teeth.

  Once Allison introduced him to the master of ceremonies for the evening, the doting woman kept returning to their table to apologize for only providing wine and sodas for the guests.

  Do all law enforcement officers prefer beer?

  She needn't have worried. The attractive waitresses circulating with trays of delicacies and coffee kept Carlo well supplied and sufficiently distracted to assure he had a good time.

  "And to think I'm getting paid to have all this fun," Susan said as she boarded the empty elevator to return to their rooms.

  Carlo actually laughed.

  Chapter Six

  "Tell me you have it."

  "No... Not yet."

  "Why the hell not?"

  "The cop I told you about might as well be glued to the woman's side."

  "I'll find out who he is and have him assigned somewhere else. Have you searched her room?"

  "The passkey I snitched from housekeeping works, but I still couldn't open the door to her room."

  "If you know what's good for you, you'll keep trying. Kick in the damn door if you can't get in any other way."

  *****

  "I feel like all we've done all evening is eat," Marsha said, rubbing her flat stomach.

  "You should. It is all we've done," Allison said while she watched Carlo's gaze follow the slow, circular notion of Marsha's hand.

  As the chatting foursome exited the elevator and headed for their rooms he whispered, "Cool it, ladies. A few guests on this floor might be trying to sleep."

  Party pooper.

  He insisted the women wait in the hall while he did a room check before allowing Allison to enter hers.

  Then she and Marsha said good night to Susan. Marsha followed Allison inside while Carlo disappeared into his room.

  He returned with her new roommate's luggage. "Is this everything?"

  "Susan offered to deliver my cosmetic case and—"

  "That must be her at the door. I'll let her in." He did the peephole check, intercepted Marsha's belongings at the partially opened door and shoved them at her with a gruff, "If you ladies will excuse me, I'm going to secure Allison's door and call it a night."

  He flipped her lock with more force than she thought necessary and murmured, "Eating might be all you've done, but I've spent those endless hours trying to make sure Allison survives long enough to make both of her presentations."

  He wedged the protection rod beneath her door handle and stomped into his room.

  "Who put a bee in his boxers?" Marsha glumly asked.

  "Unless I miss my guess, the realization two ladies are preparing to undress in an adjoining room," Allison whispered with a delighted grin.

  Marsha's eye grew round. "You know what? You're good for Carlo. You have him pulling out and examining feelings he's kept to himself for far too long."

  Allison filed that comment, too, not yet ready to put faith in Marsha's assessment of Carlo's current mind set.

  In the meantime, I can hope.

  *****

  Weary to the bones, Carlo straightened the covers, expecting to quickly fall asleep.

  Hours passed before he heaved a frustrated sigh and flopped onto his back.

  Long hours of forced alertness and unwanted but ever present sexual tension had him strung tight as a base drum.

  Every time I close my eyes I see Allison's bewitching smile.

  No wonder he couldn't sleep.

  How could one exasperating woman pack so much sensual allure into such a slim package? Her dainty hands and shiny crimson nails drew his eyes like magnets.

  No way am I ever going to fall asleep, not after thinking about the feel of Allison's long nails scoring my back.

  He couldn't remember ever desiring a woman the way he did Allison.

  It must be the close quarters we're forced to share.

  He'd bet his next day off she was fully aware his gaze often followed her mince away. The hypnotic sway of her hips always increased exponentially, like waves against the banks of a landlocked lake.

  No matter where she went the reporter attracted attention.

  Damn tease.

  But was she? Or was Allison totally unaware of her innate sexuality?

  Her awareness doesn't count. I have enough unwelcome awareness of her for both of us.

  Painful awareness.

  Turning on his side, Carlo punched his pillow and closed his eyes.

  The image of Allison stretched out on the bed beside him, her sensual curves revealed for his taking, brought him upright and muttering words unfit for her innocent ears.

  Dollars to donuts the woman driving me to distraction next door is sleeping soundly, an innocent smile on her pretty face.

  Chapter Seven

  Dreaming of new ways to melt Carlo's uptight reserve, Allison grew warm. Too warm.

  Hot.

  She woke murmuring, "Darn mule-headed cop," and yanked off her now-damp sleep shirt. Tossing it aside, she promptly fell back asleep.

  Her room was still dark when her cell phone vibrated, ending her hope of more sleep. In one smooth motion she lifted her cell off the bedside table and pressed it to her ear. "Allison," she whispered.

  "Morning, sleepy head."

  Carlo sounded delighted he'd awakened her. "Drop dead."

  "Not until I get your schedule for today."

  "Arrggg," she growled. "Hold on."

  "No rush."

  "Apparently there is, or you wouldn't have called before sunrise. There. I just sent it to your phone."

  "Efficient, aren't you? Let me check—"

  He came back on the line with, "You're attending my workshop?"

  "Of course. You'll be attending mine. What better way to find out what makes you tick?"

  He didn't respond for so long she asked, "Carlo, are you still there?"

  "Yes. What time do you want to eat? And where?"

  "Workshops begin at half-past eight. Why don't you order room service? The pancakes with eggs special for me, sausage, and gallons of coffee. While we eat we can discuss any details about today's events causing you heartburn."

  "Good idea. I still have to write a bio for the room hostess introducing me. I promised I'd send it to her a week ago, but had no idea what to say. Would you mind helping me crank it out?"

  Is your bio the real reason you woke me?

  "Sure. How about I knock on your door in an hour? Or when I hear the food arrive, whichever comes first."

  "Right."

  He ended the call just as Marsha stirred. "I see you're an early riser, too," she said.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. Carlo's call woke me long before I was ready to get up."

  "Anything going on I need to know about?"

  "No. He said he needed today's schedule, but I suspect he couldn't sleep and didn't want me to, either."

  *****

  "Demetri."

  Carlo put his phone on speaker and continued straightening his room while he listened to the Captain and answered his questions.

  "Did you get Allison's schedule?"

  "Yes, Captain. I don't see anything in particular we need to—"

  "Whatever you do, don't let down your guard. Allison is not ready to admit it, but I could see she's depending on you."

  "Not that I can tell."

  "Forget what she says. Strong women always resent being forced to depend on someone else. I'd never go along with this outrageous plan if I wasn't convinced you can pull this off without her getting hurt."

  Carlo nearly swallowed his tongue.

  "By the way, Sergeant Knox came to see me. All but demanded I reassign you to his team, starting today. Something about his task force being shorthanded. A family problem with one of his men."

  "I'm sorry Link put you on the spot. My troublesome mentor can be persistent. What did you tell him?"

  "The truth. You are on special assignment and I didn't know
when you'd be available again. Once this case breaks I intend for you to take some much-deserved time off."

  Carlo chuckled. "Good to know."

  "Why do you call Link your mentor?"

  "It's Link's term, not mine. Like a lost puppy, he took me under his wing when I transferred from Hollywood Division. He used to live in my neighborhood, and was in the same room in fourth grade. Then he moved away and I didn't see him again until our paths crossed at the Academy."

  "I wasn't aware—"

  "Neither of us considered those days anything worth bragging about. When I made detective, Link announced he was going to show me the ropes. He never liked to be crossed so I agreed, but all this buddy-buddy stuff is becoming tiresome."

  "Do you want me to speak to him?"

  "No, I can handle it, and don't worry. I don't let anybody influence my work decisions."

  Carlos glanced at the connecting door as it opened and Allison peered around it. He waved her in.

  "Allison is ready to start our busy day. I'll let you know how things go."

  "Good. Did she sleep well? I can tell you didn't."

  "If looks truly are revealing, she had a restful night. I'll keep you posted."

  Allison preened.

  "That was the Captain, checking in. Breakfast hasn't—"

  A sharp knock interrupted him.

  She grinned. "Hopefully it's here. I'm starved."

  While the waiter pushed the covered table in and placed a chair on either side of it, Alison glanced around.

  "Looking for something?"

  She shook her head. "Just verifying there's not a single item out of place, which doesn't surprise me. A buttoned-up officer like you wouldn't have it any other way. The neatly pressed creases in your uniform trousers speak volumes about the man wearing them."

  Carlo signed the tab, double-locked his door, and turned to her without comment. "Shall we?"

  She sat opposite him and smiled in anticipation. "Coffee, first, if you please. Then business."

  He grinned. "You'd fit right in at Central."

  "Did the Captain change our plans?" she asked, pouring cream in her coffee.

  "No, we're all set. The team has your schedule. All we have to do is show up at each of the scheduled venues, where at least two undercover cops and two from hotel security will always arrive ahead of us."