Part 24 (1/2)
”What?” He asked defensively.
”This doughnut,” she said as she took another bite of a fried concoction that appeared to have about an inch of glaze slathering every surface. ”Mmmmm. Have some.” Mo tore off a hunk and then held it up to his lips.
Ross hesitated. ”No thank you,” he said, pus.h.i.+ng her hand away. ”I don't care for fried breading in the morning.” Ross grabbed for the mug on the table, lifted it to his lips, and then gulped a mouthful of coffee. He choked. ”Ughhh.”
Mo's eyes twinkled as she smiled. ”Don't you like your coffee?”
”Coffee? Foul sludge is more like it.” The place wasn't sophisticated enough to offer tea with their complimentary breakfast.
”Come on,” Mo said, holding up the bit of doughnut again. ”It's really good. It'll improve the taste of the coffee.”
”Oh all right,” Ross groused and then dipped his head to close his mouth over the glazed morsel. He couldn't help but capture the tips of her fingers in his mouth as well.
The sensation had an uncomfortable effect that made Ross glad for the cover provided by the vinyl breakfast table. Pulling back quickly, he gulped the hunk of doughnut. It lodged stubbornly midway down his throat.
”Yup,” he said, swallowing down a swig of coffee and nodding. ”Excellent quality.”
”Want some more?” Mo asked, wide-eyed as she held up another piece.
”Uh. No. I think I'll try some of this other stuff. What did you say it was?”
”Grits.”
”Oh yes. I've heard of those, but never tried them.” Ross took up a spoon to scoop some of the pasty white substance and then hurriedly pushed it into his mouth.
He tasted. ”Uh,” he choked, bringing his napkin up to his lips as he tried to swallow the stuff down with partial success. He spit the rest into the napkin. ”I suppose they're an acquired taste. One has to become a grit connoisseur to appreciate them.”
Mo's laughter trilled. ”No, I think everyone who wasn't born in the South thinks they taste pretty bad.”
”We didn't have to stay here for breakfast,” Ross said. ”In fact, I think we should go back to my hotel. Surely, Gigantor isn't back there. And even if he is, it's a public place. What can he do to us there?”
”He could probably do plenty to us before the police arrived,” Mo warned. ”But I guess your right about going back this morning.” Mo popped the last of the doughnut into her mouth and then chewed sensuously. ”Mmmmm.” She licked the bits of glaze that clung to her lips, accentuating their redness.
She swallowed and Ross had to look away. Since he'd be standing soon, getting his body under control was imperative.
”I'd like to swing by my house and drop off Talley. I talked to Leo and he said he's there with friends, putting things back in order. He's having an alarm company in later to install a system. I think Talley will be safe there now.”
”When did you talk to Leo? I didn't hear you on the phone.”
”You were in the shower.”
”But you were in the shower with me.”
”I talked to him before I was in the shower with you,” Mo said, running her hand up his arm.
This brought back vivid memories of all the things they'd done together in the shower. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. That didn't help his condition at all. Better change the subject. ”It doesn't really matter when you spoke to him. I'm glad he has got things under control.”
Mo swigged down more coffee before hopping up from the table. ”I'm going back to the room to get Talley so I can load him in your car. Are you coming?” Mo waited in expectant silence.
”No.” He dug the car keys out of his jeans pocket and then handed them to her. ”I'll stay here and handle the checkout.”
When she got outside, Mo saw a rat in the motel parking lot. The rat's name was Milton. He hunched behind the steering wheel of a car rusting in the last s.p.a.ce at the lot's far end. She knew him instantly by the morning sun glinting off the surface of his signature heavyweight eyegla.s.ses.
As Mo stormed toward the rattletrap, Milton flinched and then disappeared in the direction of the car floorboards before re-emerging with a newspaper opened in front of his face. Milton bobbed up, peeking over the top of the newspaper, and then sank back down again. The newspaper took on a slight tremble.
Approaching from the driver's side, Mo hammered a fist on the window. Milton turned toward her, the newspaper an opaque veil over his face.
”Hey.” She continued pounding on the window.
The trembling of the paper increased. Milton turned away to face the pa.s.senger side, keeping his back to Mo.
”I can still see you.”
Milton turned back toward her in his seat with a lame waive and a stilted smile. He rolled down the window slowly. ”Oh, hi. I didn't see you.”
”Yeah sure.” Mo stood, arms crossed over her chest, glowering at him.
”Fine. I admit it. I did see you,” he said with a sheepish grimace. He opened the car door and Mo stepped back to let him climb out. As he straightened, he thrust a recorder in her face. ”Care to comment on what you are doing at this sleazy motel with Ross Grant?” His voice had a weasely nasal quality as he made the demand.
”That's none of your business. Just what the jalapeno pepper are you doing here?”
”There are people who will pay good money for some dirt on Ross Grant. Even if he is a 'has-been' actor, he's still famous.”
Mo silently restrained herself from throttling him. He apparently read her lack of response as encouragement because he continued. ”You should do yourself a favor. We could make a nice tidy sum of money together. The National Star will pay you for the inside story of your illicit motel tryst. It's particularly saleable since it looks like you were able to, shall we say, steal Mr. Grant's affections from his fiance on the eve of their fabulously expensive Hollywood wedding.”
”Why you little-” Mo stepped forward and the nerd cowered away, b.u.mping into his car.
”Be careful, Mo. I make a good friend but a bad enemy.”
”That road goes both ways, little man, so you'd better think twice before you mess with me. How did you find us here, anyway?”
A hearty laugh burst from Milton. ”Now you know I can't tell you that. I always protect my sources.” Milton pushed the recorder into her face again. ”Come on, Mo, give me a good quote. Has the love investigator thoroughly investigated the heartthrob?”
”You sleazy little-,” Mo stepped toward him and Milton scuttled back behind the steering wheel of the car and then pulled the door shut behind him. He hurriedly twisted the key. The car started with a grinding sound and the engine whined.
He cleared his throat and pushed the heavy gla.s.ses up his nose before speaking. ”You act as if this is my fault. My morals aren't in question here. Mr. Grant is a cheater. Like it or not, that's news.”
”I'll give you a quote if you want a quote.” Mo choked on the blackish smoke coming from the car exhaust before she could continue. ”Ross Grant is a courageous, wonderful man. He's not cheating on Heather Davies because he isn't engaged to Heather Davies.”
”How do you know, Mo? How do you really know for sure?”
”I know because he told me. He wouldn't have made love with me last night if he was engaged. He has complete moral integrity. You'd understand that if you didn't suffer from a complete lack of integrity and have morals that couldn't stand upright under a toadstool.”
Milton shot her a sly smile and put the car in gear.