Truly, Madly, Dangerously

“Be back by ten,” Jennifer said as she plopped down on the end of Sadie’s bed. “I’m supposed to work the front desk since Conrad still hasn’t shown up, but I have plans. I figured since you’re here you can do me a favor and fill in for me.”

Sadie didn’t argue that what she really needed was a good night’s sleep, or that it was entirely possible Conrad would show up late. It wouldn’t be the first time, from what she heard. “It’s Tuesday,” she said as she applied a bit of mascara. “What sort of plans could you possibly have?”

“Just…plans.”

Sadie sighed. She’d probably be home by nine. Still, it galled her a little that her flighty cousin had such an active social life, while she had none. Thirty wasn’t all that old. Why did she feel ancient?

No, she wouldn’t be thirty for two more weeks. Would she officially become a spinster over a cake with too many candles? Sitting alone in her small apartment, with her girlie things around her and the television on and… What was she thinking? The day’s excitement had addled her brain. Since a social life usually included men in some form or another, she was definitely better off without one. Bring on the spinsterhood.

Not that she wanted to look like a spinster…

It was strange, to be getting ready for her first date in ages when just this afternoon she’d stumbled across a dead body. Jen had commented on the tragedy and the smell, and then she’d shuddered and changed the subject. Unpleasant things did not deter Jennifer Banks. She ignored them completely so they barely slowed her down.

“I’ll be home before ten,” Sadie promised, wondering if she could even stay awake that long.

“Nice dress,” Jennifer said, relieved and smiling once again. “It looks expensive.”

“It is,” Sadie said. The classic little black dress was her favorite. True, it made concealing her revolver a problem, but in this instance she’d deal with the discomfort of a thigh holster.

“If it was a couple sizes smaller, I might ask if I could borrow it.”

Sadie sighed, but did not growl or even turn to glare at her skinny cousin.

“Can I borrow those earrings sometime?” Jennifer asked, leaning to the side to get a better look at the diamond studs.

“Not on your life.”

In the mirror, Sadie watched as Jen stuck out her tongue. Some things never changed.

Sadie applied a little bit of hairspray to her curling dark hair, and then she dabbed some perfume behind her ears, just in case any of the day’s excitement had left a lingering odor that hadn’t scrubbed out in the shower. Eggs and grits, cheese, ammonia…and other things she’d rather not think of right now.

“You’re going to give poor old Truman a heart attack.”

“Why’s that?” Sadie asked absently.

“You look great, that’s why,” Jennifer said. “Makeup, sexy dress, perfume. The whole works. Trust me, no one around here looks like this. Are you guys, you know…”

“No,” Sadie said forcefully. “We’re just friends. There is no ‘you know.’ I’m not getting dressed up for Truman,” she added in a sensible voice. “I’m dressing for myself. I like to look nice now and then.” She’d had enough of bubble-gum-pink uniforms and maid’s aprons for one day.

“Yeah, right,” Jennifer said, a wicked smile on her face and in her voice. When Sadie stepped into her black heels, Jennifer whistled. “You can’t tell me you’re wearing those monsters for yourself. They look great, but that heel is a killer. Those shoes,” Jennifer said with a wag of her fingers, “say, Take me Truman, take me now. Why don’t you just go naked and save yourself all this trouble? Ten o’clock, Sadie. I swear, if you’re not home by ten, I’ll…I’ll…”

“Send the sheriff after us?”

“Not a bad idea.”

Sadie walked across the room. Okay, so she hadn’t worn these heels in ages. They were not comfortable, not at all. But they did look great, she knew that. Maybe she wasn’t tiny like Jennifer, but she was tall, and she had long legs and decent breasts, and when she put some effort into it she could look good.

Not for Truman, she insisted silently, but for herself. Her first full day in Garth had been a kicker, and she needed to turn her mind in a new direction. Just for tonight. Tomorrow she’d be back to being desk clerk, maid and waitress. But not for long. Hearn must’ve been involved in something nasty to get killed the way he had. Evans would find the evidence and the murderer, and he’d send Sadie on her way with an insincere apology.

Sadie didn’t belong here any more now that she had at the age of eleven.

Sadie was overdressed for Bob’s Steak and Fixin’s, but then she was probably overdressed for anything this side of Birmingham. Since Truman had worn jeans and a nice cotton button-up shirt, she was definitely overdressed for him. She’d done this to get back at him, he imagined, to repay him for telling her not to leave town or for sticking her tip in her bra.

Truman tried not to let on that he was at all affected by the red lips, the black dress, the long legs or the way she walked in those heels. When had Sadie Harlow gotten so gorgeous? She’d always been cute, his best friend’s little cousin who had a crush on him. Back in those days she’d had a tendency to show up wherever he and Johnny happened to be. He hadn’t minded her tagging along now and then, not the way Johnny had. He’d always thought she was kinda sweet. But he’d been caught up in the high-school-jock thing and she’d seemed so young. Plus she’d never had this effect on him. And if she had, Johnny would have killed him.

It was a cruel form of punishment, he imagined. Sadie’s way of waving a red flag in his face. Look what you could have had. Look what you’ll never have. Look, but do not touch. He should have accepted his mother’s invitation to go home for a nice, safe dinner of chicken and dumplings and left Sadie alone.

His motives had been honorable. She was exhausted and needed a couple of hours away from the motel. A friendly meal and conversation, that’s all he’d had in mind when he’d suggested dinner. Really.

He hadn’t known she’d stumble across a dead body minutes after grudgingly accepting his invitation. And he definitely hadn’t expected this. He was on edge, wound so tight every muscle in his body had tensed. He looked at Sadie sitting there, all dolled up and grown up, and all he could think about was getting her naked. It had been a long time since he’d wanted any woman this way.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” she asked. “Having dinner together doesn’t seem at all ethical, given the circumstances.”

“Why not? I’m not investigating the murder.”

“We’re just old friends sharing a meal, and the fact that we found a dead man a few hours ago means nothing,” she said.

“Yeah.”

She played with the food on her plate, and her eyes scanned the restaurant almost casually. Almost.

Truman gladly studied the full red lips, the curve of her cheek, the fire in her eyes. Yeah, naked would be good. “So, how long have you been a PI?”

Sadie didn’t drop her fork, but her head snapped around. She glared at him, dark eyes flashing. He’d managed to surprise her. Good.

“You’ve been poking around in my life? You said you didn’t have anything to do with investigating the murder.”

“Actually, I did a quick search on you this morning, after breakfast and before you found that body.”

Sadie pursed her lips and lifted her chin. She wasn’t the same little girl who’d followed him and Johnny around. She’d gotten tough.

“Lillian likes to tell everyone that I’m a receptionist in Birmingham.”

“I know. Where’s the gun?” he asked.

She did her best to look innocent.

“I know you have a permit. This afternoon you were wearing it under your jacket, neatly concealed. Where is it now?”

She didn’t bother to deny that she was carrying. “In a place where you’ll never have the chance to find it.”

He grinned. Yeah, he liked her tough. He liked her all grown-up. “So, how did you end up a PI? Seems like nasty work for a pretty girl.”

Sadie smiled. “I’m not pretty, I’m not a girl, and the work is only occasionally nasty.”

Truman wasn’t looking for a fight, so he didn’t bother to argue about the pretty thing. Surely Sadie knew how gorgeous she was. Pretty women, they always knew. “Okay. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

She relaxed a little, and leaned forward. “I fell into it. I was supposed to get married, but it didn’t work out. I was tired of knocking around college without knowing what I wanted to do with my life, and I needed a way to pay the bills.” She smiled. “I found a job working as a receptionist for a small PI agency. Strictly temporary, of course.” Something in her smile changed, turned more genuine. “I’d been there three months when a displeased client came barging in with a gun in his hand. He used me as a shield, and I spent the better part of an afternoon wondering if I was about to die.”