Part 8 (1/2)
”And just what did Ms. Tuttle do to incite that altercation, may I ask?” Ross's tone was supercilious.
”Wait just a minute. Are you saying that attack was my fault?” Mo advanced on the jerk and then stood on tiptoes to stare him in the face. ”I don't know who that guy was. I've never seen him before today.”
”Obviously, he perceived your natural charm from afar then. Because he certainly knew you.”
”You gumball! Maybe I do wish Stephen Dagger was here.” She stretched up as far as she could get, hoping for an intimidating stance. ”Your character was certainly more gallant than the real you. The real you is a complete and total cheese puff. Yeah, right now if I had my choice I would much rather be here with Stephen Dagger than Ross Grant.”
”Be careful what you wish for, honey,” Mrs. Nelson piped in. ”Look at me. I wished my marriage was more exciting. I certainly got my wish.”
The three of them fell silent as a car door slammed outside. Was Gigantor back? They waited expectantly as footsteps clomped to the front door followed by the sound of a key in the lock. The door banged against the interior wall and heavy steps hurried down the hall.
”What is going on here?” Walter Nelson bellowed. ”The mailbox is smashed and there are tire tracks on the lawn. And tell me what the h.e.l.l happened to Uggie?”
”Who's Uggie?” asked Mo.
”The concrete bulldog,” Jessica Nelson said.
”Oh.”
Mr. Nelson glared first at Mo then at Ross. ”Who are these people? Why are they in my house? I demand an explan-” Abruptly, he stopped and smiled, before pointing at Ross. ”Aren't you Stephen Dagger?”
”Yes, he is,” Mrs. Nelson said before either Ross or Mo could offer an explanation. . ”Let me introduce you properly.” Mrs. Nelson brought Ross forward with a smile on her face. ”Stephen Dagger, meet my husband, Sharlene Lansing.”
An hour later, Ross still wondered whether they should have called the police. At first, the idea wasn't appealing because he knew the tabloids would be onto it before the report could even be filed. But now, he couldn't help but think he and Mo might have further trouble with that thug.
Shortly after Mrs. Nelson's introduction of her husband, the couple had started to argue. Mo and Ross both made quick exits. They'd decided to call a truce and talk things over. So they'd gone to a downtown eatery for lunch.
The waitress placed a cup of black coffee in front of Ross and a slice of apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream in front of Mo. As Ross took a sip from his cup, Mo examined her dish with greedy eyes.
”Are you sure you don't want a dessert?” Mo asked.
”Yes, I'm sure. I'm not much of a dessert person. The only dish I can't resist is a good cheeseburger.”
”Oooh,” Mo exclaimed. ”I just love a good cheeseburger with peanut b.u.t.ter and onions on top.”
”Uck,” Ross groaned. ”Sounds disgusting.”
”No. Delicious. Try one sometime. They're hard to find, but life won't be the same once you've had a cheeseburger with peanut b.u.t.ter and onions.”
”No thank you.” Ross eyed the bruise along her jaw. The ice had prevented any swelling from the blow the thug had delivered. ”Don't you need to go to the hospital? You could have a concussion,” he said.
”No, I'm fine.” She dipped the spoon into the desert, scooping out a hunk of the golden pie with a healthy portion of the ice cream. Mo brought the mixture to her lips and licked at it delicately before pus.h.i.+ng the whole spoonful into her mouth.
”Perhaps we should have called the police about our row with Gigantor,” Ross said distractedly as he watched Mo enjoying her pie.
Mo swallowed. ”What would we tell them? We don't know who the guy was. We don't know what he wanted. We don't know his license plate. Basically, we don't have anything to tell the police.”
Taking another bite, Mo emitted happy noises and ran her pink tongue over succulently full lips. She had removed her hair from its ponytail, letting the brown strands fall loose around her shoulders. She pushed the hair on one side behind her ear and out of the way of her next savory mouthful.
”Ummm,” she said. ”So good.”
”We could report we were a.s.saulted.” Ross watched as a thin line of ice cream slipped down her chin. He fought the urge to lick the creamy trail back to her lips. If he leaned across the table he could sample those few pie crumbs clinging to the corner of her mouth before her tongue slipped out to swipe them away. Before he could act on the impulse, Mo applied a napkin to do the job his tongue ached to do.
”We could provide them his description.” Ross fiddled with the handle of his coffee cup, trying to ignore her lips, her hair...her.
”The only likely result from a police report would be a newspaper story about how the famous Stephen Dagger got involved in a brawl. Unless your goal is publicity, I don't see how calling the police will do any good.”
Ross definitely didn't want publicity. In his situation, with the new contract, any publicity was not good publicity. ”If the whole thing is just a one off, it doesn't matter, but what if it's not?”
”A one off?” Mo asked.
”Something that happens once.”
”What if it isn't just a one off? That fellow may have something to do with the mysterious client who allegedly hired your agency to investigate me.”
”I don't see the connection.” Mo shook her head causing a section of her long hair to sweep forward again. ”Gigantor had to have mistaken me for someone else.” She nodded. ”Yeah, it was clearly a case of mistaken ident.i.ty.”
”You hope,” he muttered.
”Yeah,” she admitted.
”Did he say anything that would provide us any sort of clue about him?” Ross asked.
”He said something that sounded like sucker. And he mentioned wanting to find something or someone. Understanding him was difficult. He had an accent that sounded Slavic or Russian... or maybe Greek. I couldn't tell. Everything happened so fast.”
”He sounded sort of Russian to me,” Ross commented.
Mo lapped at another spoonful of ice cream. ”Come to think of it, when the agency did an investigation at a strip club owned by a Russian, I found out that Sooka means b.i.t.c.h. I suppose Gigantor could have been calling me a b.i.t.c.h and that would mean he's Russian. Oops, I said b.i.t.c.h.” Mo held a hand over her mouth and then relaxed after a second. ”Oh well, it doesn't count as a slip since I was translating.”
”Do you have any reason to think Russians are involved with the client who hired you to break into my car?” Ross tried to take his eyes off her lips.
She waved her spoon at Ross. ”Don't go thinking you're going to use that guy to bootstrap your way into going with me to talk to Clarence.”
Mo shook her head, throwing her hair back and out of the way again before taking a fourth mouthful of the obviously delicious concoction. Ross wanted to run his fingers through that length of silky brown hair, wrap the strands around his hand, pull her toward him and then...strangle her. She was completely impossible.
Although she had agreed to have lunch, with Ross paying of course, Mo refused to even consider allowing him to be involved in discovering what was behind the attempted break-in of his car. The only information she'd reveal was that the agency receptionist had relayed the a.s.signment. None of his logical arguments had yet penetrated her utterly illogical head.
Mo placed her lips around another bite.
”Mmmmmm. Youshouldtrysommmme,” Mo said with her mouth full.
”No thanks.” Ross sipped at his tasteless coffee.
Mo picked up a fork and then mashed the utensil into the crumbs on the plate with the obvious intent of finis.h.i.+ng off the remnants.