The Case of the Confirmed Bachelor Page 4

  Putting her punch on a nearby table, she’d walked a little unsteadily to where he was standing in the shadows of the room while sultry blues music played from the stereo nearby.

  “All alone, Nick?” she’d asked, with pouting lips.

  He’d smiled indulgently. “Not now,” he mused. “You look nice, Tabby. Very grown-up.”

  “I’m twenty-five.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant. You aren’t very worldly.”

  “I’m working on it,” she purred. “Want to see?”

  She noted the faint surprise on his face as she suddenly stepped close to him, smoothing her slender body completely against his.

  “Tabby!” he exclaimed.

  “It’s all right,” she’d whispered nervously. “I only want to kiss you, Nick. And kiss you…and kiss you…!”

  She’d reached up while she was speaking and looped her arms around his neck to draw his shocked face within reach. She knew little about men and less about kissing with her mostly academic background, but she loved him and she put her heart into it.

  She seemed to shock him. His body froze for a few seconds. Then his dark eyes closed and his mouth hardened, and all at once, it was Nick who was doing the kissing. His steely arm clenched around her and jerked her into his body, one powerful leg moving just enough to let her slim figure intimately close while the kiss went on and on. His lips lifted while he breathed unsteadily.

  “Is this what you want?” he asked roughly.

  “Yes,” she breathed, coaxing his mouth back to hers. “Do it again,” she whispered against his hard lips.

  He obliged her. The glass of punch found its way onto a table. They were hidden from the rest of the party goers by a large potted plant and an alcove, but Tabby was beyond knowing where they were. She let her hands slide up and down his long back, gave her mouth to him totally even when he deepened the kiss far beyond her meager experience. She began to moan softly when she felt Nick’s thighs against her.

  That was when he jerked back and pushed her away with a vicious motion of his lean hands.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded harshly, his dark eyes blazing. “You’re no drunken floozy out for a cheap roll in the hay, are you? Or is that what you do want?” he added with an insolent laugh. “Do you want me, Tabby? There’s probably a room upstairs that we could use. Or as a last resort, we could go out on the patio into a dark corner and pull up your skirt…”

  She’d cried out at his remarks. “No! Nick, I want to marry you,” she’d blurted. “I know you’re ready to settle down. I want to have children with you. Isn’t that why you came back?”

  His face had actually paled. “I came back to check on my father’s house. Nothing more.”

  “But… But I thought…” She swallowed and went deathly pale. “I thought you wanted me.”

  “A dried-up spinster with a computer for a brain and no breasts to speak of?” he asked arrogantly. “My God, did you really?”

  She ran. She turned and ran out the door and went straight home—blind and deaf to the turmoil she’d created in the face of the man she’d left behind. Helen had come after her and she’d cried on her friend’s shoulder until dawn, only then swearing Helen to secrecy about her anguish.

  She hadn’t touched a drop of liquor since, and the shame lingered. But Nick would never know how badly he’d hurt her. All she required now was his help to clear her name. And then maybe she would—and maybe she wouldn’t—actually marry Daniel.

  Having Nick come back was slowly clearing away the desperation and madness of the past few empty months. She could see what she’d been doing, trying to substitute Daniel for the man she wanted. She couldn’t have Nick, but she didn’t need to make herself and Daniel miserable by trying to replace him with someone who would never be more than second best.

  That decided, finally, she smiled at Daniel when he came back and managed to keep the conversation on just a friendly level for the rest of the afternoon.

  Chapter Three

  Nick had always been fascinated by the forensics lab at FBI headquarters. It had a reputation second to none for being able to put together evidence from almost nothing. A human hair with its DNA structure could yield a pattern as individual as a fingerprint. The tread of a tennis shoe involved in a murder could be traced to the person who purchased it. A scrap of cloth could yield an incredible amount of information about its owner. And the FBI boasted the largest file of fingerprints on record anywhere. It was an agency to which Nick had been proud to belong. Leaving it had been a wrench, too. A woman with whom he’d been involved had been killed while he’d worked there. She, too, had been a special agent, infiltrating a counterfeiting ring. She’d been spotted and eliminated. That was how the supervisor had put it. Nick had been inconsolable and he’d quit the agency.

  He wondered now if it hadn’t been a case of simple loneliness and pity. The woman had needed someone at a time in Nick’s life when he was feeling hopelessly alone. He’d almost turned to Tabby. But at that time, she’d been shy and introverted and he’d been sure that she would back away from any advance he made. She’d seemed to see him in only one light—that of a protective, affectionate older brother.

  Obviously she hadn’t seen him like that at the New Year’s Eve party. His blood still ran hot at the memory of how eager she’d been for him. Now, having had time to adjust to seeing her in this unexpected way, he’d regretted pushing her away.

  But years ago, he’d wanted Tabby. It had been because of that that he’d pursued the woman at work in the first place, out of a need to prove to himself that any woman would do. He didn’t need a shy, nervous young woman who didn’t even see him as a man.

  Sometimes he thought Tabby was a bit afraid of him. The first move she’d ever made toward him had been at that party, when she’d had too much to drink. Apparently he was only palatable to her if she was too tipsy to think properly, and that was hardly flattering. If she’d ever wanted him in the old days, it had never shown. He was defensive toward her because it hurt his pride to think that he couldn’t even attract a backward egghead like Tabby. Good God, she wasn’t even pretty, and her figure left plenty to be desired. Why, then, he wondered angrily, did the memory of her body against his keep him awake at night? Why did her kisses haunt him?

  Momentarily diverted when the elevator stopped, he strolled into one of the huge laboratories that peppered the building and grinned at the elderly form bent over a microscope. That familiar sight had greeted him every time he’d come here during his tenure as a special agent.

  “Hello, Bartholomew,” he greeted.

  The old man looked up, and smiled with delight. “Nick! How nice to see you! Can you stay a while?”

  “At least long enough to let you identify something for me,” Nick teased. He shook hands with the amused laboratory chief. “How are you, Bart?”

  “I’ve been better. When you get to my age, even arthritis is encouraging. It means you’re still alive enough to feel pain!” He chuckled. “Why are you in town? Come home, are you? We could use a good special agent…”

  “No. I’m on vacation. I’m working as a private detective these days. It’s a little less fraught than working for the agency,” he added with a chuckle.

  “You look as if it agrees with you. What can I detect for you?”

  “This.” Nick pulled out the small plastic bag with the strand of hair. It looked odd now that he was out of the influence of Tabby and her snobbish boyfriend, and he scowled as he handed it over to Bart.

  The older man lifted an eyebrow as he opened the bag and took out the sample. “Losing your touch, aren’t you?”

  Nick let out a sharp breath. “I must be. My God, that isn’t human hair!”

  “Bingo.” Bart studied it and shrugged. “Animal fur. Someone has a dog, right?”

  He wasn’t sure if Tabby had one or not, but she’d mentioned going into the biology lab on the way over to the college. Probably she’d picked it up the
re, where they kept rats and mice and dogs and cats and such, and it had come off on her desk.

  Nick took the sample back. “A dog or a rabbit or some such thing,” he agreed. “Funny I didn’t notice that it wasn’t human.”

  “I can run it for you and tell you exactly what it is, if you like.”

  He shook his head. “No need. I’m getting careless, I guess,” he said with a rueful smile.

  “Something on your mind?”

  “Yes. A lady,” Nick replied. His broad shoulders rose and fell. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. There’s been a theft. Nothing major, to my mind, but I’m trying to help a friend catch the culprit.”

  “If you come up with anything tangible, come back,” Bart said with a twinkle in his eyes. “I don’t get a lot of work these days. My eyes, you know. These younger boys and girls are taking over my old stomping ground.” He stared at the test tubes and beakers and microscopes with a loving stare. “Don’t get old, Nick.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he promised. He shook hands with the older man. “It was good to see you again,” he said. “Sometimes I miss the old days.”

  “Don’t we all. I didn’t expect to hear from you again, after your own tragedy,” he added sympathetically.

  Nick nodded sadly. “It was a blow, losing her that way to a bullet. But I don’t know that we’d ever have made a go of it. We were both career-minded, and she loved her work.” He remembered the woman who’d filled the gaping hole Tabby had left in his life with fondness. He’d never loved Lucy, but he’d been fond of her. Her death had haunted him for years; now, he was finally able to face it.

  The older man saw the bad memories in Nick’s eyes and quickly changed the subject. “Say, remember that redhead who gave you fits when you first came here, the one who was transferred to Miami and we all got down on our knees and gave thanks?” he asked.

  Nick chuckled. “Yes. What was her name…Cynthia something?”

  “That’s right. Well, she’s chief agent in Miami these days,” he told Nick. “Doing a helluva job, too. Married to one of her agents and has two kids.”

  “Imagine that,” Nick said, shaking his head. “Funny, I never thought of her as a marrying woman.”

  “Neither did I. Sort of like you and me, Nick. I never found a woman I could live with. It doesn’t look as if you ever did, either.”

  “I suppose some of us are born loners,” Nick replied. Then he remembered Tabby’s mention of Daniel as her fiancé and his eyes glittered with anger. He felt as if something was being taken from him. Ridiculous, of course. Tabby wasn’t his.

  The thing was, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. All the way back to the college, he had her in his thoughts. It wouldn’t do; it really wouldn’t do.

  Tabby wasn’t in. He went by the admissions office and picked up a catalog. It gave some pretty detailed in formation about the faculty, and he could put that to good use. He strolled up to the floor where Tabby worked on the pretext of looking for her and got an earful from a janitor who was cleaning the hall. By the time he drove back to his parents’ house, he had plenty of in formation to get him started on suspects.

  He phoned the agency, and asked for his sister. She could get what he needed without involving any of the skip tracers. He didn’t want everyone in the office knowing about his private life.

  “What’s up?” Helen asked.

  “Tabby’s career, if we don’t find a thief,” he said, and explained what he meant.

  “But they wouldn’t fire her, would they?” Helen asked worriedly. “I mean, she has tenure.”

  “That won’t matter if that artifact doesn’t turn up,” he assured her. “I’ve got a list for you. Right at the top is her new ‘fiancé.’”

  “Daniel?” she asked pointedly, hiding a smile when Nick hesitated before confirming the guess.

  “Do you know him?” he asked.

  “Sure. He’s my age, you know. He and Tabby and I were friends when we were all in college together. He’s a bit of a stick in the mud, and I wouldn’t call him exciting company. But he’s nice, and settled. He’ll take care of her.”

  “More than likely, she’ll do the nurturing,” he said shortly. “I don’t like him. He’s a prissy, self-centered snob.”

  “That, too,” she agreed without heat. “It’s Tabby’s life, Nick. She’s entitled to marry the man of her choice.”

  “Even if he’s a rank idiot?” he asked coldly.

  “Even then. Give me those names, will you, and I’ll start checking. But you won’t find anything shady in Daniel’s past. He’s much too straitlaced to have ever robbed a bank or anything.”

  “You never really know people until you dig deep,” he assured her. “You know that. Got a pencil?”

  “Yes. Go ahead.”

  He gave her the list of names and read her the appropriate information from the college catalog. “Get everything you can,” he told her. “And phone me the minute you have anything concrete on any of these people.”

  “You can count on me, Bro,” she agreed. “You might get some input from Tabby. Ask her if she suspects any of them,” she said easily.

  “That was my original idea,” he said. “But I can’t get her in the house. She’s afraid her reputation will be ruined if people see her go into a house alone with me,” he said irritably.

  “She lives in an old-fashioned world,” she told him. “She’s not modern.”

  “I suppose not. It’s so damned silly…”

  “Humor her,” Helen said. “Probably she’s still raw about New Year’s Eve. Tabby never drinks, and I really fouled things up for her by telling lies about your intentions,” she added with quiet regret. “I was only trying to be a good scout, but I made her life miserable. She’s probably embarrassed to be alone with you at all, in case you think she frequently gets drunk and throws herself at men.”

  “I know she isn’t going to let history repeat itself, for heaven’s sake,” he said angrily. “She doesn’t have to avoid me.”

  “Tell her.”

  He sighed roughly. “Maybe I should.”

  “Good man. Go to it. I’ll get busy in the meantime. I’ll give you a call when I find something. Bye.”

  She rang off and he put the receiver down. He wondered how long it would take Tabby to get home.

  As it was, her car didn’t pull into the driveway until dark. Nick watched her out the window, angry that she’d taken so long to come home, that she’d been out with her idiot fiancé. Tabby deserved better than that stuffed shirt. She was too good for him.

  He went out and strolled over, just in time to open the door for her as she climbed out of her car with an armload of books.

  “Oh. Thanks,” she faltered. She hadn’t expected to see him twice in the same day. Maybe he’d found out something. “Anything new?” she asked hopefully.

  He shrugged. “Nothing yet. I’m working on it.” He lifted the glass to his lips and caught her eyes on him. “It’s whiskey and soda. Want some?”

  She made a face. “I hate whiskey.”

  “You didn’t mind it New Year’s Eve. Did you?”

  She flushed and turned toward her front door. “I have to get inside.”

  He caught her arm and held her back, so that her shoulder touched his broad chest in its thin shirt. She could feel the warmth, the maleness of him, and it made her ache.

  “Don’t, Nick,” she pleaded gently.

  “You did all the running that night,” he accused at her ear. “Primped and swanned around me until all I saw was you. Then you plastered yourself against me in that black dress that fit you like a second skin and started kissing me.” His body tautened with the memory. “I had to do something, quick, so I pushed you away and read you the riot act. But it was for your own good. You have to understand that it wasn’t malicious on my part.”

  “I know that,” she said, almost choking on wounded pride. “I’m engaged…”

  “Oh, hell, he isn’t an engagement, he’s an eg
o trip. You only took up with him to prove to me that I was off the endangered list. Okay. I get the message. You don’t have to shove it down my throat.”

  She turned, the heavy books clasped close to her breasts. “Nick, I’m not marrying Daniel to…to prove anything to you. I’m twenty-five. I want to settle down and have kids. Daniel is settled and he doesn’t smoke or gamble or…drink,” she added averting her eyes from his drink.

  “I don’t drink, either, as a rule,” he said quietly, “and never to excess. I’m not driving, you notice,” he added mockingly.

  “Good thing,” she murmured, grimacing at his breath. “You could probably fell an oak tree if you breathed on it. For heaven’s sake, don’t light a match.”

  “Funny girl,” he said without humor. His eyes slid down to her vulnerable mouth and lingered there. “You still don’t know how to kiss, do you?” he asked conversationally, ignoring her embarrassed start. “I should have taught you years ago, but you were afraid of me.”

  “I was not,” she said defensively.

  “You ran every time I came close,” he challenged. “Once, I tried to ask you out. When you saw me coming, you left through the back door.”

  “I didn’t know you wanted to take me anywhere,” she said, avoiding his piercing stare. “You told Helen I was a pest and you wanted me out of your life. I got out.”

  He stood very still. “When was this?”

  “That night you came over and asked to see me, when I was eighteen. I figured you planned to warn me off. I had a feeling that someone had told you how I, well, that I had a crush on you, and you were going to tell me it was no use. I didn’t want to hear it, so I ran.”

  He hadn’t known about any crush. Helen hadn’t told him anything. “Did Helen tell you that she’d said any such thing to me?” he persisted.

  “Oh, not Helen. She wouldn’t have been so cruel. No. Mary Johnson told me. She said Helen had confided it to her. I was too embarrassed to say anything to either of you about it. I thought everything would be all right if I just kept out of your way. And it was.”