Ninja Soccer Moms (11 page)

Pulling off his shades, he flashed his dimples. “It's all a matter of taste, Shaw. Some men like the . . .” he dropped his gaze down my body, “full look.”

Fat. He was calling me fat! I looked down. My stomach didn't pouch. Much. Okay, maybe just a little, a tiny had-a-couple-of-babies pouch. And I did have sturdy thighs, but I wasn't fat. Glaring at Vance, I looked down his dark suit paired with a pale yellow shirt and darker tie. Damn, no belly on him. “Yeah, well some women like men with no butts, too.” I turned my back on him. “I'd like a muffin with that coffee, Dom.”

Grinning at me, Dom set a foaming coffee on the counter and went to the bakery case. “What kind, Sam? We have blueberry, cranberry, cream cheese, banana nut, chocolate chip—”

“Chocolate chip.” If I had to deal with Vance again so soon, I needed courage. Chocolate courage.

“Add a black coffee, please.” Vance said. He reached past me to set a ten-dollar bill on the counter. Then he got my foaming coffee and his boring black coffee and went to a table. I collected my muffin and said, “Keep the change, Dom. Vance probably has a secret source of income.”
Like writing romance novels.
I went to sit down at the wrought-iron table. I wanted to face the door so I could watch for Roxy, but Vance already had that seat.

I put my muffin down, reached for my purse, and pulled out the disk of the SCOLE files. “Here,” I slid it across the table. “This is the file I took off Chad's computer.”

Vance's gaze flashed around the room. then he took the disk and stuck it in his jacket pocket. “What else?”

I took a cautious sip of the Mocha Bounce coffee. Mmm. It had a chocolate, nutty flavor and was rich enough to make the chocolate chip muffin unnecessary. Blaine was going to love me if I took him the muffin. Finally, fueled by the caffeine and chocolate shot, I looked up. “I don't have anything else.”

He fixed his gold-flecked brown eyes on my face. “What about Rick and Sophie?”

“It's barely nine in the morning. I haven't talked to them yet.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You better not hold out on me, Shaw. I'll haul your full figure in for investigating without a license and crime-scene tampering.”

“You know, Vance, you ought to consider some antidepressants. Might help your suspicious attitude.” Actually, with his attitude, Vance was telling me what I'd already suspected. Something else was going on beneath the surface of Chad's murder. A hunt for something. Maybe the soccer money, but . . . I don't know. I just had a feeling.

He stood and picked up his coffee. “What are you meeting Roxy Gabor here for?”

“How long were you standing behind me eavesdropping?”

He smirked. “You put a bug on your boyfriend's truck. I don't think you can throw stones, Shaw. Answer the question.”

“Business. Heart Mates business.”

“You expect me to believe that Roxy Gabor, the model, needs your dating service?”

I looked over Mr. Sun God with dimples. “You got a crush on Roxy, Vance? She's way out of your league. But if you sign up at Heart Mates, I'll put in a good word for you. Oh, by the way, she is a
full-sized
model. Doubt she'll be interested in your skinny butt.” I picked up my Mocha Bounce and ignored him, trying not to worry about my own full butt while I waited for Roxy.

 

 

By nine-thirty, I'd finished off the Mocha Bounce coffee and the chocolate chip muffin, and had scarfed down countless pieces of a sample pumpkin cheesecake muffin that Dom had cut up to inspire customers to buy more.

No Roxy. I reached into my purse to call her again when my phone rang.

“Boss, I have a new client here who's under the impression you actually work at Heart Mates. What do I tell her?”

Damn. “Her? It's a her? Not Lionel?” I couldn't deal with Lionel. If he said the word Midol once more, I'd hit him with his own tire iron.

“Missy Zuckerman. She's anxious to find her Heart Mate and she just knows that you can help her.”

“Are you laughing?” I narrowed my eyes and stared at my thighs. Blaine was laughing at something. Hell, he was laughing at me. “Is Missy Zuckerman another lunatic?”

“No. How far away are you?” Blaine asked.

I gave up on Roxy. “Ten minutes at the most. I'm at Smash Coffee.”

“Oh, boy. I'll tell the troops that the boss is paying us a visit.” He hung up.

Dom was busy with customers, so I did a quick wave and left. It only took me about four minutes to make my way to work. I couldn't imagine why Roxy was acting so flaky. Could her uncle be sick or something? She did seem kind of worried about him this morning.

I parked the car and decided to worry about Roxy later. Right now, I had to focus on work. Putting on my businesswoman smile, I sailed through the door and stopped short.

It smelled like a funeral. Flowers filled the office. Loose flowers. Not vases of flowers, but single roses, daisies, and carnations were strewn everywhere. I looked up and saw baby's breath stuck into the aging, water-stained ceiling tiles.

“Uh,” I turned to Blaine. “What happened?”

Blaine grinned, used his right hand to smooth back his feathered hair, and reached beneath his desk. He pulled out a white poster board that had the words, “Hope you feel better soon” written in red ink across it.

A bottle of Midol was taped to the bottom with a big red heart around it.

A woman's voice said, “Oh, that is so sweet. A man who understands about women.”

I turned around to face the woman who said that. She looked like a rational enough woman, so I chalked her comments up to nerves. “Hello, I'm Samantha Shaw.” I tried to pretend that Blaine wasn't still holding the poster board up and smirking. “You must be Missy Zuckerman.”

“Yes, I am. I am so excited about finding a man here at Heart Mates. My horoscope says that romance is a strong possibility.”

Uh-huh. “Well then, we must get you signed up right away.” I took quick stock of Missy. She wore an olive-drab gauze skirt with a yellow gauze top that draped down to her hips. She'd twisted her dried-grass-colored hair up into twin buns just above each ear. Her face was makeup-free except for a touch of gold glitter at the corner of her pale brown eyes. I took a breath. “Have you filled out the forms, Missy?”

“Yes! That was such fun.” Her eyes lit up to a yellowish color.

I turned to Blaine, still holding the dopey card, and exchanged my smile for a frown. “Do you have the forms?”

Blaine ignored any implied threat in my frown. “I put the forms in the interview room for you. Now I'll just go put this card in your office so you can keep it forever.”

He was so dead. And Lionel Davis was so dead, too. Hell, the only man I think I liked today was Dom. And he might be gay. Forcing a smile, I said, “Missy, would you like some coffee before we get started?”

“Oh, gosh, I don't drink caffeine. Besides, I am too excited.”

I thought about slipping her a couple of the Midol to bring her down. “Well, then, let's get started.” I led the way into the interview room.

Thankfully, there was only a single red rose in the middle of the oak table. Ignoring it, I gestured to a chair for Missy, then sat down where Blaine had left the clipboard with the interview sheet. I skimmed the info about Missy. “It says here that you like dancing. What kind of dancing?”

She fidgeted all over her chair. “Ballroom dancing. My dream is to open a ballroom dancing studio.”

I looked up. “Here? In Lake Elsinore?” Was she serious?

She nodded.

“Okay.” To each his own. But I started to get an idea. Of course, first I had to make sure that I wasn't pairing Missy here up with a card-carrying stalker or lunatic.

 

 

I was exhausted. Blaine and I had discovered that every time I stumbled over a murder, Heart Mates became a popular place. We'd fielded phone calls and clients all day. I dragged myself home, determined to pull it together for Angel's party in half an hour. I didn't want to think about what the boys' bathroom looked like.

Frowning, I passed a paneled van leaving our property when I pulled onto the dirt in front of the house. Who was that? Grandpa had picked up the boys, and his Jeep was here. So was Angel's car. The phone message from yesterday threatening me sprang into my mind. All kinds of thoughts tumbled around, like my sons and Grandpa being kidnapped, bound with duct tape, and tossed in the back of that van with no windows.

Real fear brewed in my belly. I slammed on the brakes, put the car in park, and jumped out. Oh God, what if they had been kidnapped? Or, been hurt and left as some kind of warning to me?

I
hit the front door, clutching my key ring with the little canister of pepper spray, and rushed inside to see if my family and best friend had been kidnapped.

I hurried through the empty living room with my heart hammering viciously. Ohmigod, where were Grandpa, TJ, Joel, and Angel? I made it to the small dining room when things started registering. The smell of Pledge dusting spray, the furniture moved around in the living room, the rack of covered clothes I'd raced past in the living room. Empty serving bowls set out on the dining room table that looked ready for chips and dip. I turned right into the kitchen and stopped. Grandpa was setting up the coffeemaker. Angel was arranging blenders and margarita mixes, and the boys were bickering about making onion dip.

They were fine.

I was the one having a meltdown. I needed to get a grip. Forcing my mouth in a smile, I said, “Hi. Who was in that van that just left?”

“The house cleaners.” Angel walked over to the pantry in her black silk pants paired with a halter top, and bent over. She came out with a stack of plastic margarita glasses. “Everything's done, Sam. Go take a shower.”

Cleaners? I couldn't afford cleaners. Finally it dawned on me. “Angel, I love you!” She'd hired a cleaning company to come in and clean the house.

She flashed her billion-watt grin. “Barney's going to take the boys over to your mom's soon. They are going to eat over there. Dom will be here to tend bar and model the men's lingerie. Roxy and I will do the rest.”

“Roxy? You talked to her?” I hadn't had time to worry about her once I had gotten to work today.

Stopping to stare at me, Angel said, “Yes, I talked to her. About an hour ago, but I hired her to model for me two weeks ago. You look tired.”

TJ looked over. “That's because one of Mom's loser clients was sleeping on the porch last night. He said he was protecting her and asked her if she needed Midol. Then she tried to take Gabe's gun to shoot him, but Gabe wouldn't let her.”

Angel looked back at me. “Gabe was here?”

“Here and gone without quite answering my questions,” I clarified. “Lionel spread loose flowers all over the office and left a large poster board card—with a bottle of Midol taped to it.”

Grandpa set out a stack of Styrofoam cups by the coffeemaker, then turned to look at me. “How did he get in?”

My head throbbed at the memory, since I'd asked the exact same question. “He was waiting outside the office when Blaine arrived to work. Blaine let him in. I think I might fire him.” Walking into the kitchen, I put my arm around Joel. “How was your day?”

“Boring. Angel brought us a whole bag of candy to take over to Grandma's house. Grandma will probably want to stay there with us instead of coming to your underwear party.” Joel made a screwed-up, disgusted preteen face.

“Lingerie, Joel,” Angel walked by and play-smacked him on the shoulder.

“Whatever,” Joel rolled his eyes.

Going into my bedroom, I stripped down and got into the shower while planning what to wear. Many of the guests tonight would be the moms from my PTA and soccer days. The fact that I stepped out of that world and hardly looked back made us uneasy with one another, at best.

Ever since I could remember, I've been fascinated by relationships. That's what attracted me to romance novels and dissecting them for reviews.

And then to Heart Mates. I loved trying to successfully match people up. It endlessly fascinated me to try to assess what clients really wanted and find matches for them.

The other side of relationships—why they unravel—fascinated me just as much. Which is what drew me into the part-time PI work with Gabe. I hadn't really known the man I was married to. Okay, the truth is more like I refused to see the man I was married to.

What makes a woman refuse to see the truth? Look at the misery that denial brought.

Like Janie. She had known Chad wasn't quite the shining town hero soccer coach, but she wouldn't admit it. She let the town force her out of soccer after he dumped her for Dara. Why? Love? Even love that has died? Or something else? And now that she was trying to face the truth—including who murdered Chad and why—I wanted to help Janie do that.

But the women I'd spent years doing PTA and soccer with didn't understand what drove me. I'd done a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn in my midthirties, turning my life around. They had only known me as a committed soccer mom. I changed the rules on them and they didn't know how to respond.

I shut off the shower, got out, and dried off. I used the blow-dryer to smooth the frizzies and did my own brand of magic with mascara, blush, and lipstick. Then I slipped into my electric-blue thong panties and matching camisole. I walked out of the bathroom.

Angel sat on my bed reading my romance novel. “Don't you dare tell me the end!” I warned as I went to my closet. Of course, all real romance novels had a happy ending, but how they got there was the key. I tugged on a pair of low-cut jeans and topped that with a sheer electric-blue top that allowed my camisole to peek through. Sexy but not slutty. Hopefully. I stepped into a pair of slip-on heels and turned around. “Well?”

Angel looked up from the book. “Depends. The women will hate you, but if Gabe stops by, he'll kidnap you for hot monkey sex.”

I wrinkled my face. “I could never figure out what the hell hot monkey sex is. Why would anyone want to swing from trees naked?”

Angel laughed, leaned over, and put the book on my bedside table. “So Barney mentioned a plan to get a few people drunk and pump them for info. Oh, he's got some stuff on Dara that he'll tell you tonight. He and the boys have left. Dom's in the kitchen re-doing the coffee. He brought his own coffeemakers, liqueurs, and stuff to make coffee desserts.”

I went to my desk and got my yellow pad. “I made some notes. First on my list is Sophie Muffley. We want to get her drunk and find out more about Chad, the missing soccer money, and what Sophie was looking for in Chad's office.” Quickly I got Angel up to date on my rendezvous with Vance in Chad's office last night.

When she stopped laughing over Gabe's changing the tracking device to Vance's car, she said, “So you are spying for Vance now?”

I glanced over at the romance novel. How many books had heroines forced to go against their morals, but that always found a way around, a way to do the right thing? I just had to figure out what the right thing was. I'd give Vance what I thought wouldn't hurt any of the players. Chad had been murdered, and we had to find the killer.

Turning my gaze back to Angel, I answered her question about spying for Vance. “I gave him the disk for the SCOLE books. I should have done that right away. But I'm not going to give Vance information on people that could hurt them.” Like if Dara had a brutal husband searching for her.

The doorbell rang. Angel leaped up from the bed. “It's show time!”

I smiled. “And you look gorgeous. Let's go launch Tempt-an-Angel lingerie. When we are finished, your lingerie will put Viagra out of business.”

We hurried down the hall to answer the door and get the party started.

Twenty minutes later, I went into the kitchen. Dom had two fresh batches of margaritas ready. He glanced over at me. “How's it going in there?”

Over a loud roar of bawdy female laughter, I grinned. “Good. Really good. Angel's lingerie is a hit. Roxy just came out to show some of her full-sized line. You're next, and then Angel's going to coax some of the guests to try on the lingerie.” I took a blender full of margaritas from him. “You'd better get ready.”

“Sweetie, what's to get ready? I strip off my clothes and the ladies adore me.”

Uh oh.
I clutched the sweating pitcher and eyed Dom's clothes. He had slip-on shoes, butt-hugging jeans, and a blue and green Hawaiian print button-down shirt. “You aren't going to actually strip, are you? My mother's out there!” A twitch started in my left eye.

“Darlin', those women all came here expecting to see Dominic Danger, and I will not disappoint them.” He touched my face. “Lighten up, Sam. It's all for fun. Your mom will have the time of her life.” He took the second blender of margaritas and went into the living room to refill drinks.

And strip.

I looked down into the full pitcher of margaritas in my hand and seriously considered drinking it straight down. But if I was going to get Sophie drunk enough to talk to me, I had to stay sober enough to remember what she said. I forced my feet to move into the living room.

About twenty-five women were crammed into the living room, spilling over the couch, love seat, and folding chairs. They watched Roxy as she came out in her last outfit. Roxy had her blond hair cascading around her face in loose waves. She wore a black-and-white silk lounging pants set that looked only slightly suggestive, but beneath that, Angel informed us, was a very sexy bra and panty set, and she held up a matching set for the women to see.

The older women, in particular, liked the nice look of the lounging set, yet appreciated the charge from the secret knowledge of naughty clothes beneath.

I flashed a smile at Angel and went over to where Sophie sat on the love seat with—

Oh, boy.
It was Iris, Gabe's mom.

What was she doing here? Panicked, I looked around the room. My mom was chatting with Linda Simpkins, the PTA president, and Molly, who owned Frank's Flowers with her husband. Dominic finished filling my mom's glass, said something that made her laugh, and headed toward me on his way back to the kitchen. He winked at me as he passed by.

He was going to strip. In front of my mom and my boyfriend's mom.

“All right, ladies!” Angel shouted out. “Does everyone have their drinks? It's time for the main event!”

Catcalls and whistles broke out.

My eyes widened. I felt like I was standing on the tracks with a fast-moving train barreling down on me. I didn't know how to stop it. I waved my free hand toward Angel, frantically shaking my head, trying to signal her to stop Dom.

A warm hand touched my arm. “Sam! Hello there. Sophie invited me and she introduced me to your mother. Is that more margaritas?”

I looked at Iris's smooth face and twinkling eyes. Then at the glass she held out. Not knowing what else to do, I filled her glass, and then topped off Sophie's glass.

While I poured the frozen drink, I wondered if Iris had finagled the invitation from Sophie to get her drunk and pump her for information to help Gabe and Dara. I hoped not, since Iris would probably have more luck than I would. Sophie had been pretty annoyed at me when I saw her in the beauty shop yesterday. It was going to take a lot of alcohol to soften her up toward me.

On the other hand, Iris could be here to check up on her son's girlfriend. I was sure a man stripping in my living room at any second would make quite an impression. Cripes, how do I get myself into these situations?

The music started. The fast, pulsing beat of “I'm Too Sexy” blared out of the stereo.

Dom burst out of the kitchen and into the middle of the living room. By the time the song hit the part about being too sexy for his shirt, Dom reached for his top button.

I stood there, seeing my life pass before my eyes. What would my mother say? What would Gabe's mom say to him?
Your girlfriend has sex parties?

“Sam,” Iris said from her seat behind me. “You're in the way, dear.”

I stepped to the side and sat down on the arm of the couch, holding the pitcher.

Dom was down to the bottom button of his shirt, swaying and teasing the women. His natural boyish charm was combined with just enough sexuality to keep the tension on the fun side. He edged the shirt off his shoulders.

Sophie shouted, “Pants.”

Shocked, I turned to look at her. Her thin face was flushed to a pretty glow, and she was clapping in time to the music. The tension lines around her eyes and mouth eased. She'd had enough to drink to slide into happy giddiness. Was it enough to answer my questions?

My thoughts were interrupted when I saw Dom toss the shirt.

It landed on my mom.

My mom! The woman who had built herself into the Queen of real estate and had successfully convinced herself she did not grow up in a trailer right here where this house was. Mom worked hard to be a lady of class.

A man had just thrown his freshly stripped-off shirt at her.

Mom picked up the shirt and put it around her neck like a fine silk scarf, the bright Hawaiian print standing out starkly against her beige blouse.

Dom ripped open the buttons on his jeans and began to ease them down his hips.

Beneath was a pair of pure white satin boxers. Kind of disappointed, I watched him kick off the jeans directly into Missy's, my new client's, lap.

Missy looked down at the jeans in her lap. Then she smiled and drained her margarita glass.

The music was winding down when Dom turned around and shook his behind.

There, in a blaze of red embroidered on the white satin, read “Tempt An Angel.”

Laughter and clapping broke out. Dom basked in the attention, going around and planting kisses on various women's cheeks.

Dom did a few more changes, modeling some items Angel had for the men, before Angel coaxed some of guests into trying things on for themselves and coming out to show us.

I relaxed. So far my mom and Gabe's mom appeared to be having a good time. They weren't going to make an issue of Dom's little strip show.

Dom had managed to get his jeans back to make another batch of margaritas, and then he switched to coffee with or without Kahlua.