Part 1 (1/2)
Night Whispers.
by Leslie Kelly.
Prologue.
”I WANT TO SEDUCE YOU WANT TO SEDUCE YOU.”
The five words were spoken softly, nearly whispered, yet Baltimore heard. Throughout the bustling city, people paused, falling under the spell of the sultry declaration that seemed to echo in the hot September night. Patrons in a Harbor Place bar hushed one another. Riders aboard a city bus craned forward to hear from the driver's tinny speakers. Lights were flicked off in apartments around town as residents sat back in the candlelight to listen to her voice.
”Seduction. Even the word sounds erotic, doesn't it? It rolls off the tongue and instantly floods the brain with the images that most excite us. Gentlemen, what would it take to seduce you? Is it soft, white lingerie, so pure and innocent it's utterly sinful? Is it the flash of a woman's eyes that says yes, even before you've asked the question?”
It was ten o'clock and tonight, as it had been for the past two months, Baltimore was at the feet of a mystery woman calling herself ”Lady Love.” Near Charles Street a cabdriver flicked off his ”available” light, slid his car behind a closed shopping center and settled in his seat to listen. A woman in a downtown row house lay in her bubble-filled tub, letting Lady Love take her away. Couples married twenty-five years turned off their televisions and looked at each other, feeling the spark her words always ignited.
”Maybe it's a touch. If she runs the tip of her finger across your bottom lip, will you be able to think of anything except how much you want to kiss her? If she feeds you succulent fruit, letting you lick its juice from her hand, will you want to taste more? When she so carefully allows her short skirt to ride dangerously high on her leg as she steps out of a car, will you want to push her back in and take her to a secret hideaway?”
Most of the men she was speaking to screamed a silent ”yes” in their brains, picturing the infamous Lady Love doing all these things. They'd never seen her, yet each felt they knew exactly what she looked like...she was tall and short, a redhead and a blonde, slim and elegant and built with Mae West curves. They laughed and kidded one another, telling ribald jokes even as they fantasized about meeting her, wondering if she could possibly look as good as she sounded.
Women wanted to hate her for the effect she had on their men. But once they listened to her, they understood that she was talking to them them even more than she was to their mates. In Lady Love's husky voice, they could hear their own fantasies and desires. even more than she was to their mates. In Lady Love's husky voice, they could hear their own fantasies and desires.
She had them and they adored her.
”And ladies, if he makes up his mind to make you desire him, can you possibly resist? If he stares deep into your eyes, and his breath comes faster across his lips, can you stop your body's response? If he kisses the palm of your hand and whispers 'I love the way you touch me,' can you stop yourself from touching?
”It's all about seduction. Making someone want you. Let's talk about it. I want to hear from you...tell me how to seduce you.”
And, oh, how they wanted to tell her.
Baltimore settled back to spend four hours with their lady of the night, knowing now what she had in mind for them. They were never quite sure where she would take them when they turned her on. Some nights were light and playful, some heavy and erotic. She sometimes made them laugh, sometimes made them cry...but she always always made them hot. made them hot.
”This is Lady Love on WAJO...and you're listening to Night Whispers Night Whispers.”
1.
”WHAT HAS SHE DONE TO MY YARD?”
Mitch Wymore stared out his kitchen window and shook his head. Rubbing a weary hand against his unshaved jaw, he closed his eyes briefly. He'd just returned from a six-month research stint in China-his luggage still lay heaped on the floor in the foyer. He'd looked forward to returning to his brownstone, to his own huge bed, some real American junk food, and familiar surroundings. But this place didn't look familiar! From the moment the taxi dropped him off in his driveway and he saw the little red sports car parked in his spot, he'd wondered if he was at the wrong house.
It wasn't just the yard. The kitchen was changed. There were frilly yellow curtains at the window, and copper pots hung over the cooking island. The last time he'd seen them they'd been gathering dust in a box in the bas.e.m.e.nt. A delicate-looking tea set perched on the sideboard. Pot holders and matching towels hung from a new towel rack. Fresh flowers burst out of a cut-crystal vase on the butcher-block table.
”Someone's also been messing with my kitchen.”
Mitch didn't really expect Fred to respond. He'd been speaking more to himself than to his tenant.
”Yeah, looks nice, doesn't it?”
Mitch slowly turned on his heel and stared at him. He didn't know Fred that well, despite the fact that the man had been renting the top-floor apartment in his home for the past year. Fred was a young grad student-serious, studious and quiet-the perfect tenant, and, frankly, that was just how Mitch liked it. They'd never socialized, and in the few encounters he'd had with Fred, he'd never seen him crack a real smile. Now a huge grin creased his face.
”Is there anything else I should know about?”
Fred's grin widened, and Mitch nearly groaned.
”Well, she painted the dining room, fixed the cracked chair rail in the living room, and repapered the foyer.”
Mitch didn't have to ask who ”she” was. Of course, it was Kelsey.
He glanced back out the window and rolled his eyes. The quiet little courtyard he'd left six months ago had been a nice blend of stone patio, a few rosebushes and a little gra.s.s. Two stately old maples provided shade in the back corner. Nice and easy. Low maintenance.
Now it looked like the pictures of those English gardens, a ma.s.s of trees, shrubs and flowers. A stone path meandered around clumps of evergreens and mums. Some green, palmy thing hung right over the gate and he dreaded having to circ.u.mnavigate it when taking out the trash. A huge mound of wildflowers surrounded most of the back patio. There was even a fountain splas.h.i.+ng merrily near the fence.
He hated it.
”I'm gonna strangle that kid.”
Tossing his keys onto the kitchen table, Mitch shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie. All he wanted to do was strip away his stale clothes and take a forty-five-minute shower. Instead, he was going to leap into a confrontation with Kelsey Logan, the bane of his childhood!
”Kid?” Fred asked.
Mitch didn't pay him any attention. ”I can't believe I was stupid enough to let her move in here. She's a menace, always has been, always will be. And she has liked nothing better than to irritate me since the day we met.”
Fred seemed surprised. ”I don't see her that way.”
”Believe me, you don't know her.”
Mitch wished he'd told her mother no when she'd called last spring to ask if Kelsey could rent one of the apartments in the Baltimore brownstone he'd just renovated. But of all the people in the world, Marge Logan was one he couldn't say no to. She'd done too much for him. He shuddered to think where he might be now if it hadn't been for Marge and her husband Ralph-in jail, dead...no telling. So he'd said yes, hoping the move would be temporary and Kelsey would be long gone by the time he got back from his trip.
”How long has it been since you've seen Kelsey?” Fred asked.
”Not long enough,” he muttered. ”Where is she?”
Fred pointed out the window toward the backyard. Mitch wasn't surprised.
”I'd better be on my guard. That monster dumped a bucket of fertilizer-fresh fertilizer-on my head once, just because her brother and I made the mistake of walking through her vegetable garden.”
Fred laughed out loud until Mitch glared at him.
”I can't begin to tell you the number of acts of terror she's inflicted.” Mitch mentally ticked off memories in his head of the times she'd run his underwear up a flagpole, hidden dirty diapers beneath his bed-and then there was the time she'd told half the neighborhood that Mitch slept with a stuffed bear and liked to dress her Barbie dolls up as Southern belles. Oh, the list went on and on. And those were only the harmless pranks. She'd gotten him into real trouble a couple of times.
Mitch had, of course, retaliated. He'd considered pounding her into the ground, and if she'd been a boy, and five years older, that's exactly what he would have done. Instead, he'd reacted by treating her exactly in the way he knew she'd hate most: he ignored her. It drove her nuts. He smiled at the memory.
”That was a long time ago, though,” Fred said.
”Of course, fifteen years ago,” Mitch conceded. ”And I'm certainly not the type to hold a grudge. But I'm still going to strangle her.”