Truman Page 8

  “No.”

  Darn tootin’ it’s not! You need a man who really loves you for you. There’s plenty more fish in the sea. Who needs that lanky cowboy?

  “I do.”

  No, you don’t! What you need is a good dose of self-respect. Now, get up and dry those eyes.

  Katie dabbed her face with a tissue, then stepped to the mirror. Tess was right. Why did she want a man who couldn’t promise to love her in return?

  Then again, some people might think she was nuts, talking to a fictional character in the bathroom mirror.

  Well, it had worked so far. Pretending she was Tess helped Katie overcome her shyness. What was wrong with using a fictional role model to improve?

  Katie splashed cold water on her face. As long as she was thinking and acting like Tess Dupree, it was easy to be brave. She had to remember why she was here. She’d promised Truman she’d help, and Katie always kept her promises.

  But being here meant more than simply doing Truman a favor. She’d jumped at the chance to help him with the investigation because she’d been longing for excitement in her dull little life. Tired of living life through the pages of books. She wanted her own adventure, her own tales to tell. Plus, she was interested in going into law enforcement. If she remembered that and forgot about her fascination with Truman, she’d be okay.

  Main trouble was, how did she forget him when he would be at her side for the next forty-eight hours?

  There was only one answer. If she had any hopes of surviving this weekend with her heart intact, she would literally have to become Tess Dupree.

  Katie was the most amazing woman Truman had ever met. When he’d told her he was attracted to her, but he couldn’t act on that attraction, she’d taken the news like a trooper. Frankly, he’d expected tears or embarrassment or resentment, not good-humored acceptance. She surprised him at every turn.

  And he found that flexible quality highly erotic. One minute she was eager and naïve, the next a coy vamp. He imagined she would be equally seductive in either white cotton panties or a black leather thong.

  “Put a lid on it, West,” he growled under his breath.

  Truman took the elevator down to the first floor where the fashion show reception was being held. Katie had sent him on ahead, saying she wanted to change clothes and freshen up before the event. Truthfully, he was thankful for the breathing room. Being near Katie was too distracting.

  It was imperative his head stayed clear. Tonight, he’d figure out whether Paul Smith, Karl Tandy, and the mysterious red-haired woman were their suspects. He didn’t want to waste time running up a blind alley.

  Concentrate.

  He checked in at registration for both him and Katie. He put on his name badge, stuffed hers in his pocket, then pulled out the conference brochure to check the schedule. The reception was in Ballroom B.

  Now which direction was that?

  The drone of voices guided him.

  He turned right and spied well-dressed people spilling out into the corridor. They packed the large room. Pushing his way through the throng, Truman made a beeline for the cash bar, knowing it held the best vantage point for checking out the guests.

  He purchased a beer, then went to stand with his back against the wall, his eyes trained on the doorway. He scanned the crowd for the suspects and thought he spotted the back of Karl Tandy’s bald head, but a flock of tall, reedy females blocked his view. He hadn’t seen so many beautiful women since he’d leafed through a Victoria’s Secret catalog. Still, none of them could hold a candle to the woman who just stepped into the room.

  Stunned, Truman watched her float through the crowd, the essence of kinetic energy, electric and alive.

  His hungry gaze licked over her.

  Katie’s light-brown hair floated around her small oval face. Her creamy complexion shone in the lighting. Her lips tugged upward in a heartbreaking smile. That glorious blue dress hinted at luscious curves without really revealing anything. She wore two-inch heels and an ankle bracelet made of pink seashells.

  Here was a goddess. A vision in blue chiffon. This was a woman comfortable with her femininity and confident in her abilities to charm. Heads turned to follow her path, but she never looked back. Something gave way in Truman’s heart. Something dangerous and scary.

  “Hi,” Katie greeted him in that refreshingly breezy way of hers.

  “You look fabulous,” he said, unable to tear his gaze away.

  “Not too shabby yourself, cowboy.” She gave him the once-over and nodded her approval.

  He opened his mouth to say something smart and flirty but caught himself. He had warned her against the dangers of following their urges. He’d best heed his own warnings.

  “Hello!” Paul Smith appeared from nowhere to take Katie’s hand. “We meet again.” The man didn’t even acknowledge Truman. Instead, he brought Katie’s left hand to his mouth and kissed it.

  Katie giggled.

  Truman rolled his eyes. Surely she was too smart to fall for that smarmy hand-kissing baloney.

  “Hey,” Paul Smith said. “I thought you two were newlyweds.”

  “We are,” Katie replied.

  “Then where is your ring? A woman as beautiful as you should sport two carats minimum.” Paul Smith leered.

  Truman froze. How could he have been so stupid as to have forgotten wedding rings? They were playing newlyweds, for crying out loud. What had he been thinking?

  “My ring is being sized,” Katie said, astonishing Truman with her glib, on-the-spot fabrication. She landed on her feet as smoothly as a cat thrown from a twelve-foot roof. Grace under pressure. She had the makings of a true detective. Did she really want to go into law enforcement or was it just a fun daydream?

  “Would you like a drink?” Smith asked Katie.

  “That would be really nice. Thank you.”

  It fried Truman to see her turn that illustrious smile on the other man, and he glowered at Smith.

  “How ‘bout you?” Paul addressed Truman for the first time.

  Truman forced a smile and raised his glass.

  “I see you’re set.” Paul turned back to Katie. “What’ll you have, Tess?”

  “Whatever Zack is drinking.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Smith, and Truman had an almost overpowering urge to wrap his hands around the younger man’s neck and squeeze.

  Hard.

  “Corona,” Truman said through clenched teeth.

  “Coming right up.” Paul Smith winked at Katie then sidled over to the bar to place the order.

  “What’s the matter?” Katie whispered in Truman’s ear.

  “Matter? Nothing’s the matter,” Truman whispered back.

  “You’re acting jealous.”

  “Jealous? Me? Don’t be silly.”

  “You should have seen the look on your face when he kissed my hand.”

  “You’re encouraging him!”

  “Excuse me, isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing?” Katie cocked her head and sent him the sort of look his sixth-grade math teacher, Mrs. Hamilton, had given him when he flubbed fractions.

  “Just watch this guy,” Truman growled. “He’s a con man.”

  “Allegedly,” Katie said. “We don’t know that for sure.”

  “Here we are,” Smith said, returning with Katie’s drink.

  She dazzled him with a smile. “Thank you.”

  “Hello, people.” Karl Tandy joined them, a martini in hand. “Are you enjoying the reception?”

  “Very much,” Katie said.

  “It’s okay,” Truman replied, irritated by everything.

  “You know,” Tandy said to Truman. “Paul and I were just talking about your wife not fifteen minutes ago. Isn’t that right, Paul?”

  “You bet, Karl.”

  With corny scripts like this, how had these guys managed to defraud so many people? They sounded like something from a bad late-night television commercial for car insurance. Maybe they weren’t the targets.

&
nbsp; “Your wife has got that special ‘something’ that high-fashion photographers are crying for. She’s got it going on.”

  “See, cupcake, I told you so.” Truman winked at Katie. “You’re gonna make it big.”

  The “aw shucks” look she was so good at crossed Katie’s face. “Come on, fellows; beautiful women are everywhere. Women much prettier than I.”

  “Maybe.” Smith took Katie’s elbow, and Truman had to bite his tongue to keep from threatening the man with bodily harm for touching his wife. “But look at them. Most are too cold, too haughty, too distant. They hide behind a mask of aloofness.”

  “Isn’t that how models are supposed to act?” Katie’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, absolutely not,” Karl Tandy said. “What makes a good model is a warm, inviting, easygoing manner. You’ve got that quality in abundance.”

  “That’s so nice of you to say, but truthfully, I don’t think I’m model material. Zack is the one who urged me to come to this conference. He says I can make important contacts.”

  “Your husband is a wise man,” Tandy said. “You should listen to him.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” Katie smiled, charming all three.

  She’s good. Damn good. Truman’s chest swelled with pride. And I recruited her.

  “Listen, Mrs. Dupree, based on your beauty and your charm, we can guarantee you unlimited work as a model,” Smith said.

  Truman’s ears pricked up. Guarantee? Unlimited work? These were exactly the sort of over-the-rainbow promises he’d been waiting for them to offer.

  “Unlimited,” she said. “That’s a bold claim.”

  “We’re that sure of you,” Smith said. “And not to be immodest or anything, we’re that sure of ourselves.”

  “How much money can she expect to make?” Truman rubbed his palms together.

  “If your wife retains us, there’s no limit to what she can accomplish, Mr. Dupree. Yes, you can start seeing dollar signs immediately.”

  “What did you say the name of your agency was?” Katie asked.

  “Spectacular Dolls.”

  Katie frowned and rubbed her brow. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “That’s because we’re the best-kept secret in the business,” Karl Tandy assured her, looking as earnest as a Sunday-morning preacher. “And we want you to know, we don’t sign just anybody. We pick only the best of the best. That’s why we’re able to make such exclusive guarantees.”

  “Sounds pretty good, doesn’t it, honey?” Truman nudged, playing his part.

  “I don’t know; it’s an enormous step,” Katie hedged.

  “Tell you what, Mrs. Dupree, why don’t you and your husband come by our hotel room before the conference starts tomorrow morning. We’ll have breakfast and discuss this. We can even set you up for a photo session.”

  Katie looked at Truman, the perfect indecisive wife. “I don’t know, bunny rabbit, what do you think?”

  Again with the bunny rabbit? He would have to talk to her about that nickname. “I say we grab the bull by the horns, cupcake.”

  “Do I need to come in full makeup?” she asked.

  “We’ll have a makeup artist there,” Tandy said.

  “I do want to make you folks aware of our price schedules first.” Paul Smith placed his hands to the small of his back, puffing out his chest as if he’d reeled in a big fish. “The photographs are two thousand dollars for ten superb quality headshots. Do a little price comparison and you find that’s an excellent bargain, and that fee goes directly to the amazing photographer, Karl.”

  Tandy grinned and saluted Smith. “Thank you, Paul.”

  “If you’ve talked to some modeling agencies, you’ll find that our fee structure is a little different from most,” Smith continued.

  “Different?” Katie frowned. “In what way?”

  “We won’t be taking fifteen percent of every assignment you get.”

  “That sounds great.” Katie did a little victory dance.

  “Wait, then how do you make your money?” Truman asked.

  “Flat fee,” Smith replied. “That’s the beauty of working with Spectacular Dolls. You pay us a onetime placement fee of ten thousand dollars.”

  “Ten thousand dollars for one placement?”

  “No, that’s ten thousand dollars for the length of our contract. We get you a hundred gigs, you still only owe us that initial ten grand investment.”

  “But what if you don’t get her a hundred gigs?”

  “We’ll get her far more than that, Mr. Dupree.” Smith looked so sincere he should have gone into acting.

  “But ten grand up front?” Katie’s frown deepened. “Before I ever get any modeling assignments?”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get the assignments. You’re gorgeous.” Smith slathered on the flattery so thick, Truman wished for wading boots.

  “Money is no object!” Truman interjected. If Smith could lie through his teeth, so could he. “We’ll pay whatever it takes to get my Tess on the cover of Vogue.”

  “Mr. Dupree.” Smith made an atta-boy fist. “I like your attitude. Can we set Tess up for a photo shoot at nine tomorrow morning?”

  “You’re darn tootin’. We’ll be there with bells on.”

  “Here’s our card. Our room number is on the back,” Karl Tandy said, handing the white rectangle card to Truman. “We look forward to seeing you then.”

  8

  “High five me, cupcake.” Truman held up a palm once they were back in the honeymoon suite after the reception.

  Katie gave a little hop and slapped her bare palm against Truman’s.

  The minute her skin touched his, all her confidence vanished. Gulping, Katie retreated, scuttling across the room to plunk down on the couch. While at the party, she’d mentally become Tess Dupree.

  It had helped. A lot.

  She talked like Tess, using the words and inflections of the fictional character. She moved like her too, energetic and powerful. Copied her mannerisms. Used frequent conspiratorial winks. Cocked her head at a jaunty angle to show interest in the person she was speaking with and mirrored body language.

  But now that they were back in the hotel room celebrating their victory, Katie’s doubts came flooding to the forefront. The sexual attraction hung in the air, an invisible barrier neither of them dared span.

  Despite the great size of the room, claustrophobia seized her, and she jumped back up. To distract herself, she took her cell phone from her purse and plugged it in to recharge, but that only took half a minute.

  Restlessly, Katie moved to stare out the wide picture window at the city lights shining below. She studied the cars maneuvering through the downtown Fort Worth streets and wished she was out there instead.

  Truman should have stayed an untouchable fantasy. As long as she kept him in her dreams, he couldn’t hurt her. But now, so close, and yet, so far, knowing she could never truly belong to him, festered a throbbing ache inside her as big as Texas.

  “Katie?” he murmured.

  She turned.

  He stood beside the couch watching her intently, so handsome and honorable.

  Emotions knotted her throat, and she sucked in a gulp of air. “Yes?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I can’t congratulate you enough on your performance tonight. You couldn’t have done any better if you were a trained police officer.”

  “Thanks.” It wasn’t her. It was Tess Dupree. Katie felt like a fraud. That was who Truman admired and respected. Not her. Tess. What would he say if she were to tell him he was essentially attracted to a character from a mystery novel?

  He moved closer, his eyelids at half-mast, his voice lowered. “Right now, I see a glimpse of the girl you used to be—shy, reserved, quiet.”

  Katie ducked her head. Please don’t touch me, she prayed. I couldn’t bear it.

  “I think I have a bead on you, and then a few minutes later, you’ll hit me with a witty zin
ger that’s so like the bold woman you’ve become—it’s breathtaking.”

  “Which one do you like the best?” Katie whispered, scarcely believing she was courageous enough to ask. “The shy me or the brash me?”

  “Nice as that girl next door is, I’d have to say I have more fun with the intrepid woman who’s not afraid to take a risk.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Her disappointment morphed into hopelessness at the no-win situation.

  “You seem down. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No. Would it be all right if I took a walk around the hotel grounds to clear my head?”

  “I’ll go with you,” he offered.

  “I want to be by myself…” She paused. .“Please.”

  He gazed at her, tapping an index finger against his mouth. That red-hot kissable mouth. “Sure, Katie, whatever you need.”

  “Thanks.”

  Taking the plastic key card from the table and stuffing it in her purse, she left the room. Chin to her chest, Katie trudged to the elevator, her spirits hanging lower than her head.

  Wimp.

  Go away, Tess. Katie mentally shoved aside that pesky inner voice.

  Wuss. A real woman would seduce that hunky cowboy cop, no matter the consequences.

  Okay then, you win. I’m not a real woman.

  Chicken. What are you afraid of? Living a little?

  No, Katie thought, irritated. It scared her to think of blowing any future chance she might have with Truman.

  Don’t you get it, numbskull? You don’t have a chance with him. Not unless you stand up and make your feelings known.

  “Easy for you to say, Tess,” Katie grumbled. “You’re not real.”

  An older couple coming down the hallway gave Katie a peculiar look, and she realized how nutty she sounded. It was one thing to have a hero, a mental coach who helped her reach her goals. It was quite another to talk to an invisible person who did not exist.

  “I’m losing it,” she groaned and climbed into the elevator. A few seconds later the door jerked open and deposited her into the lobby. She glanced at her watch. It was almost eleven p.m., but a few conference goers were still hanging out at the piano bar.