Truman Page 13

  “Are you blaming me?” Katie pressed a hand to her chest and looked affronted.

  Truman backed down. “No. I’m sorry.” He raised his palms in a calming gesture. “I’m grasping at straws here. I don’t want to lose this case.”

  “I forgive you.” She smiled sweetly.

  “Go ahead, continue with the review.”

  “Here’s what we’ve got.” Katie held up one finger. “Redhead gal made a phone call last night—about what, we don’t know.” She swung one leg lazily against the couch.

  Truman forced himself to concentrate on Katie’s words and not her legs.

  “This morning,” she continued, “we show up at the photo session as planned. There are two other marks there. Everything seems to proceed on schedule. Con men seem confident they’re about to make thousands in one day.”

  “At least. For all we know, they could have a dozen more lined up.”

  Katie shrugged. “Could be. Anyway, it’s all systems go, then the redhead shows up.”

  “And then suddenly everything is off,” Truman said.

  “Why?”

  “The redhead had information that made proceeding with the scam risky.”

  “Did she have that same information last night?” Katie asked. “Is that what I overheard?”

  “Who knows?”

  “Do you think she found out about us?”

  “It’s a real possibility.”

  “But how?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “So,” Katie kept talking. “If the con men are closing up shop, what the hell are we doing here arguing?”

  Their gazes met. She was right. They should have Tandy and Smith under surveillance.

  “Let’s go,” he said and headed for the door, Katie following close at his heels.

  “We’ll start with the conference,” Zack said. “See if they’re still around signing up recruits.”

  Tess nodded. If they found Tandy and Smith and the redhead among the conference attendees, they could rest a little easier.

  If only she could remember what she’d overheard the night before, damn it. Absentmindedly, Tess rubbed her fingers across the cut at her temple.

  Think.

  She closed her eyes briefly but could see nothing but the brick wall of the fountain rising to meet her. She kneaded her forehead and tried to force a memory. Something. Anything. But the harder she tried, the more resistance she felt.

  Rats.

  “This way,” Zack said when they reached the lobby. He directed her to the escalators that led to the second-floor conference rooms.

  They moved rapidly over the thick carpeting of the long corridor. At least a dozen doors lined the hallway, most of them closed with a sign outside posting what the workshop was in progress.

  In the middle of the corridor sat a long table with ice water, sodas, coffee, and tea. A few people lounged and conversed in the sitting area.

  “We’ll split up,” Zack said. “You check the conference rooms on the right; I’ll take the ones on the left.”

  “Wait.” Tess put out a hand to stop him in mid-stride.

  “What?”

  “Look.”

  Tess pointed to a large poster positioned outside a set of double doors showing a bigger workshop than most of the others. The red-haired woman’s picture adorned the poster, announcing she was Nancy Furlow, consultant to Fashion Today magazine and owner of Spectacular Dolls Modeling Agency. Her lecture topic was Breaking into the Modeling Industry.

  Tess looked at Zack. Zack looked at Tess.

  “She’s legit?” Tess blinked.

  “Either that or this scam is much more sophisticated than we originally thought.”

  “But that’s so brazen,” Tess said. “Drawing attention to yourself by giving lectures.”

  “It also gives Spectacular Dolls an air of legitimacy it wouldn’t otherwise possess.”

  “Wow,” Tess exclaimed.

  “Let’s catch her lecture.”

  Zack preceded Tess into the standing-room-only workshop. He took her hand and led her to the back, the door whispering closed behind them.

  Several people frowned at the interruption. Zack and Tess stepped over groups of women sitting on the floor in the aisles. Tess peeked at the podium and saw the red-haired woman, aka Nancy Furlow, standing in front of the microphone.

  If she noticed the latecomers, Furlow gave no sign. “Like everything in the fashion industry,” she said, “modeling is a competitive business. To break in, you need an edge.”

  “Can you imagine how much money they’ll make if they sign up everyone in this room?” Tess whispered.

  “I’m thinking the whole conference is a scam. Like those shady get-rich-quick real estate conferences put on by TV house flippers. Maybe not illegal but definitely unethical.”

  “Just a way to draw in marks for the criminal part of their business.” Tess nodded.

  They listened to the rest of Nancy Furlow’s speech. Zack pulled a pad and a pen from his pocket and took notes. Tess didn’t know if he was doing it for evidence or whether he wanted it to appear the redhead’s pearls of wisdom entranced them.

  Tess studied his profile. Who was this man really? He had told her his name was Truman

  West and that he was a detective for Rascal, Texas Police Department. But if he wasn’t her husband of three years, then how did she know so much about him?

  She knew he liked ketchup on his eggs and that his favorite color was red. She recalled that he rode horses and drove a pickup truck. She knew of the star-shaped birthmark on his lower back and that he had broken his arm in high school. How did she know so much about him when she didn’t even know if she was Tess Dupree or Katie Prentiss?

  The whole situation was eerie and yet erotic. He was a stranger, and yet, not.

  What would happen once this assignment was over? What if she never got her memory back? Was she forever doomed to believe someone invented her for an undercover role? That was a sobering possibility.

  Most important, what would happen between her and Zack?

  Truman, she corrected herself. He said his real name was Truman, and she trusted that was the truth. What choice did she have?

  Would she ever see him again after this was over? What would she do about this attraction? How could she defuse it?

  He felt the same way. She knew it. It was in his touch, his look, the way he became easily muddled when he was around her. Yes, she held a convincing sway over him, but he had an equally strong influence over her.

  She ached to please him. Whatever he wanted, she longed to supply. Food, water, love. Whatever was hers to give she’d offer it up to him, with no strings attached.

  Yet how could she provide him with anything when her memory was on the fritz? Until she recalled their past link and understood what drove them together, they could not act on their attraction. Even after the investigation was over. It might take months for her to regain her memory. Years even.

  Then a horrible thought struck Tess. What if she never remembered her real identity?

  Who was she? The woman who had picked out this mousy brown floral print dress she wore? The librarian? Quiet, boring, so unlike Tess. She was living in the body of a stranger.

  So many questions, so few answers.

  “Remember, Spectacular Dolls is selective,” Nancy Furlow was saying. Tess snapped her attention back to the podium and away from her personal problems. “We guarantee placement, so we can accept only the most qualified clients.”

  She’d heard this speech before.

  Tess froze. Hey, she’d remembered something. Yeah. Paul Smith had delivered the same rhetoric last night at the reception, before she’d struck her head. Tess closed her eyes and tried to force the memory.

  Come on. If you can remember that, you can remember more.

  Zack put his hand on her arm. Tess opened her eyes and looked up at him.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered.

&n
bsp; She nodded.

  “No headache?”

  “A little,” Tess admitted.

  He angled his head toward the door. “I think we’ve heard enough. Wanna vamoose?”

  “My pleasure.”

  They edged toward the door, mumbling apologies as they went.

  “Let’s head for the hotel restaurant,” Zack said once they were outside. “You look pale. I think a hearty lunch is in order.”

  “How did you know I was starving?”

  “Your stomach was growling so loud, I thought it would bite me.” He smiled.

  Tess smiled back. She couldn’t help it. Every time she looked at him, she wanted to smile and smile and smile.

  “Would you like to hear my theory of what’s going on with Furlow and company?” Zack asked ten minutes later when they seated themselves in the restaurant, enjoying French dip sandwiches and cottage fries.

  “Please.” Tess dipped her roast beef wrapped in French bread in the juicy dipping sauce.

  “This modeling agency operation seems much larger than we thought. I’ll call the chief and have him assign someone to investigate the conference itself, and Nancy Furlow in particular. I never thought to look and see who organized this thing; anyone can put on a conference.”

  “This is true.”

  They chewed in silence for a few minutes, then Tess wiped her mouth with her napkin. “We still don’t know why they stopped the photography sessions this morning. What do you think was behind that?”

  “Just a theory,” Zack said, “but I wonder if they suspect us in particular.”

  “Do you think they’ve figured out we’re undercover?”

  “I’m assuming they don’t know for sure, or they would have pulled the plug on the whole thing. They could just be paranoid. They’ve been getting away with this scam for so long, they’ve got to know they’re running out of time. Any good con man knows when to call it quits and move on to another scheme.”

  “Let’s see if I understand you. They suspect they were on the police radar, but they don’t know for sure, so they cautiously go ahead with the conference. But then, this morning, while we’re at the photo session, Furlow comes in and puts a stop to the proceedings. Why do you suppose she did that?”

  “She’s narrowed her list of suspects.”

  “To us?”

  “And Minette and Jackie.”

  “How do you know she suspects them, too?”

  “If Nancy Furlow and her friends knew for sure we were undercover, they would have ditched the whole conference, not just the photo session.”

  “To be on the safe side, why don’t they do that, anyway?”

  “Greed. How can they call off something that could net them so much money? You saw that packed room. A hundred people at least. Most willing to part with thousands of dollars for a chance at stardom.”

  “So what does that mean?” Tess asked.

  “That we’re being watched.”

  “Right now?” Tess asked, resisting the temptation to turn her head and glance around.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Who?”

  “The photographer. Karl Tandy. He’s sitting at the bar. Last stool on the left.”

  Casually, Tess dropped her napkin. When she bent to pick it up, she cast a quick glance at the bar. Zack was right. Tandy was staring at them in the mirror mounted over the bar. Tess straightened, her body flushing with heat.

  “I feel really keyed up,” she admitted.

  Zack appeared collected. His gaze was steely, his features composed. “It’s the adrenaline rush. Quite a trip, huh?”

  “Wild. What do we do now?”

  “We put on a show.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re husband and wife, aren’t we?”

  “I thought we were.” Her voice came out wistful.

  “I know,” Zack mumbled.

  “So, should we have a fight?” Tess asked. “Argue over whether to sign with Spectacular Dolls?”

  “I had something else in mind.”

  She frowned. “I’m not sure I follow your drift.”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Zack got up and slid into the booth beside her. He rested an arm across her shoulders and drew her close to him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Acting like man and wife.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Hush up, Tess, and just kiss me.”

  13

  Lowering his lips to hers, Truman forgot about Karl Tandy watching them from a distance. He forgot about the conference, the modeling scam, the investigation—everything except the woman beside him. Katie, Tess—whoever the hell she was—he wanted her with an unstoppable yearning.

  He covered her mouth with his.

  Katie raised her hand and cupped his face. She touched him tenderly, like a wife might touch her husband.

  Exactly how much of this pretense was a put-on for Karl Tandy’s sake, and how much was Katie’s legitimate response? Most important, how much of her response was to him, and not to this made-up husband named Zack Dupree or the exciting situation they were in?

  He groaned, bewildered by the complexity of his own mixed-up emotions.

  Katie mistook his groan as one of pleasure, and she deepened their kiss, running her tongue along the inside of his mouth.

  Truman groaned again. This time with true enjoyment. She tasted delicious. He reveled in the sensations, exploring every inch of her sweet mouth. How he wanted to take her. Right here, right now. Because at this moment, she was the only thing that mattered.

  It felt good, Truman realized, to care about something besides his job. More and more, he had to acknowledge that his life was missing something. For far too long, he had placed his work above everything, striving to become the best cop on the force in honor of his father. He’d thrown himself into his job, and for a long time, that had been enough.

  But not anymore.

  After Truman had become a cop, his mother had distanced herself from him, saying it hurt too much to watch him follow in his father’s footsteps. Long hours and job stress had taken its toll on his parents’ marriage. His father’s dogged dedication to the police force caused his mother to feel neglected.

  What would have happened, he wondered, if his father had been more receptive to change? If he had placed his marriage above his career? More important, what could Truman do to avoid his father’s mistakes and change?

  When Rhonda had left, Truman hadn’t been able to see it. And although she wasn’t the woman for him, she had been right about one thing. He hadn’t been willing to change for her.

  But Katie was different. She understood his need, his hunger, his excitement for law enforcement. She not only encouraged him, but she’d joined him in his pursuits. Her acceptance made Truman want to change. Made him ache for more.

  Stunned by these thoughts, he pulled away, breaking off the kiss.

  “That’s enough of that,” he said huskily. “I imagine Tandy’s got the impression we’re hot for each other.”

  “Yeah.” Katie sighed. “I’d say our performance was quite convincing. Is he still there?”

  He sneaked a glance at the bar. Karl Tandy had disappeared.

  Truman sent Katie up to the room to get ready for the evening event while he called his boss to let him know what was going on, then he hunted down Paul Smith and cornered him in the hallway. “You ready for Tess’s photo shoot yet?”

  Smith gave him a shark-toothed smile. “We’re working on it.”

  “You know,” Truman said, “I’m really eager to see my wife make it in modeling. If you guys aren’t interested in helping us, there are plenty of other agencies out there who are.”

  “Now, Mr. Dupree,” Paul Smith placated. “Please, give us a little time. We think your darling wife has what it takes to make it, or we wouldn’t be encouraging you. We plan to reschedule the photo sessions after tonight’s banquet.”

  “You promise?”

&nbs
p; “You have my assurance.”

  “All right then.”

  “Mr. Dupree.”

  “Yes?”

  “Where is that pretty wife of yours?”

  Was it his imagination or had Smith emphasized the word wife? Truman’s gut tightened. Did he suspect something? “She’s upstairs resting before the banquet.”

  “You should take fantastic care of her, Mr. Dupree. It would be a shame if something were to happen to her.”

  “What do you mean?” Truman asked, narrowing his eyes, his heart galloping. Something was off, way off.

  “A beautiful woman is a cherished treasure. Don’t you agree?” His eyes narrowed, and his voice darkened.

  “Yeah,” Truman said, clenching his jaw. Oh, that was definitely a veiled threat. “Yeah, I do.”

  “See you at the banquet.”

  It was all Truman could do to stroll away. As soon as he was out of Smith’s sight, he bolted for the elevator, punching the button repeatedly, eager to see Katie and make certain she was safe.

  “Tess!” He burst into the hotel suite, bellowing her name. “Tess, where are you?”

  She popped from the bathroom. One eye had makeup on it, the other was bare. She wore a white terrycloth bathrobe, and her hair was twisted up in a towel. She looked gorgeous.

  “Thank God, you’re here,” he exclaimed. His pulse slowed, and he took a deep breath to steady his nerves.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked with a frown, holding a mascara wand in one hand. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I thought they kidnapped you.”

  “Huh?” she asked. “Who would kidnap me?”

  “Smith.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because you’re the ace in the hole.”

  “Calm down. You’re not making much sense. Take a deep breath. Have some water.”

  “They are onto us.”

  “Why do you say that?” she asked, capping her mascara wand and padding to the kitchenette. He followed and watched while she filled a glass with water and handed it to him.

  “I talked to Smith. He made veiled threats about you.”

  “I’m sure he was just fishing.”

  Where did she get such composure? Truman clenched his fists. He had to make her understand that she was in danger. “I’ve got a gut instinct about this. Don’t discount my feelings.”