Troubleshooters - Into The Night Part 29

"No," Joan said again, more irate than she had the right to be. "I don't know. For G.o.d's sakea""

"Women come to me," Muldoon told her. "If I want to be with a woman, I go someplace where women hang outa"a bar, a party, an aerobics cla.s.s, the grocery store produce section..."

"Oh, my G.o.d," she said. "You're really not kidding, are you?"

"No," he said. "Women approach me. All the time. I basically just say yes or no. I mean, obviously it's not as blatant as that. There's a whole game to ita"or maybe dance would be a better way to describe ita"but..."

"Well." Joan leaned her forehead against the coolness of the gla.s.s. This was crazy. What was she supposed to say to him to help him snare Brooke Bryant? "It sounds like you've had a lot of experience from the pursuer's perspective. What makes you say yes?"

He was silent.

"Other than the size of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s?" she added tartly.

"I don't know," he said. "I guess I say yes when she looks me in the eye and doesn't pretend it's going to be anything more than what it's actually going to be."

"So make sure you look Brooke in the eye," Joan said. G.o.d, she couldn't believe she was doing this. "You know, Mike, she's got a lot of issues, a lot of luggage. I'm not sure you really understanda""

"I look her in the eye and say... what?" he asked.

"G.o.d, I don't know. 'Wanna do me, baby?' "

"Hey, I'm being serious here. Help me out," he said. "Tell mea"I don't knowa"is there some kind of line or approach that gets you every time? Something you can't turn down?"

"Honesty," she told him. "Kind of the same as you, you know? With the not-pretending thing. No lines. No bull. I like men who can hold my gaze and tell me that they like mea" and mean it. Kissing works, too," she admitted.

"Kissing."

"Yeah, I'm not talking 'let me see how far down your throat I can stick my tongue.' I'm talking artful kisses. Persuasive, persistent kisses. Sweet kisses. There's a message being sent therea"a very subtle message that says, 'This is not just about me getting off. This is about your pleasure, too. And see how good I am at that?' "

"Hmmm," he said. "Yeah, that's... good to know."

"It's a positive message to send to a woman. Of course, you could be less subtle and throw yourself on your knees before her, proclaim her your G.o.ddess, and beg to be her personal slave. That one gets me every single time."

He laughed.

"Michael, it's entirely possible Brooke was just messing around with that email. I've heard some stuff recentlya" rumorsa"that make me think she might be involved with someone right now."

"Yeah," he said. "And we all know how true most rumors turn out to be. Hey, whoops, I've gotta go. Thanks for talking, Joan."

"Mike," Joan said, knowing that she had to tell him the truth about who wrote all that email, but he was already gone.

"I'm so sorry I'm late." With Haley tightly secured on one hip, Mary Lou pulled a stray strand of hair out of her mouth and back from her face as she tried her best to smile.

Bob Schwegel, Insurance Sales, held his own against the embellishments several days of imagination had added to her memory of the man.

His blond hair gleamed in the suns.h.i.+ne, his chin was smoothly shaved, and his s.h.i.+rt was crisply whitea"obviously freshly laundered beneath his well-tailored business suit.

Mercy! Not only did he hold his own, he knocked that memory clear out of the park because he smelled so d.a.m.n good.

"No problem. I always have plenty of files to read. Besides, you're doing me the favor, right?"

Mary Lou wondered if the makeup she'd bothered to put on this morning had already run down her face from the marathon she'd just raceda"thanks to Haley's waiting to p.o.o.p until they were out the door and halfway in the car seat and already five minutes late.

He smiled, his perfect teeth gleamingly white against his perfect tan. "You ladies look particularly lovely today."

He was still slinging the BS with an elephant-sized shovel, same as he had when they'd met at the library. Haley was mottled from crying, her eyes red and her entire face runny, and Mary Lou... Well, G.o.d only knew what she looked like now.

"Hi, Haley," he said directly to the baby. "How are you today? A little grouchy, huh, kid?"

He saw that Mary Lou was juggling her car keys and her purse, and he reached over and plucked Haley from her arms, snot and all.

"Don't let her get youra"

"I've got it." And he did. He was actually carrying a handkerchief in his pocket and he whipped it out and expertly wiped Haley's face and nose.

Mary Lou put away her keys and pulled the straps of her purse up onto her shoulder. "I didn't think men knew how to do that," she said, as she reached for Haley, who was starting to come out of the shock of being held by a strange man and beginning to look as if more tears were imminent.

"Back to your mommy," Bob said, smiling at Mary Lou and slipping the handkerchief into his jacket pocket.

"Thank you," she said.

"My pleasure." His eyes actually twinkled as he gazed down at her.

After picking up Haley from Mrs. Ustenski's, Mary Lou had come home from the AA meeting last night to find a message from Bob on the answering machine.

"Mrs. Starrett, this is Bob Schwegel from Medway Insurance," he'd said. "We met at the library a few days ago. I helped you carry your books out to your car? Forgive me for calling you like this, but I think I might've left my book with yours."

He'd left his number.

Mary Lou wrote it down and was about to erase the message on the machine because what would Sam think? But on second thought, she left it there. Let him think whatever he wanted to think. Of course, that was a.s.suming he ever thought of her at all.

She'd called Bob back this morning to tell him that his book wasn't in her pile. In fact, she'd already returned most of those books to the library.

He'd asked her, please, if she didn't mind too much, to check in her car. Maybe it had slid underneath the seat. Unfortunately, it was a forty-five-dollar book...

But Mary Lou couldn't check. Her car was in the body shop.

That was when they'd made plans to meet here.

Mary Lou led the way into the cluttered shop office, where a biker type looked up from a stack of grease-smudged papers.

"Hi," Mary Lou said. "My husband brought my car in for a repair to the trunk, but I need to see if I maybe left something in it..."

"Starrett, right?" the biker said, glancing from Mary Lou to Haley to Bob and back. "That's done. We replaced the entire trunk lid." He rolled in his office chair to a rack on the back wall and plucked a set of keys from among dozens hanging there, then rolled back. "Our key machine's down, so there's only one key to the trunk. You might want to get that copied." He handed the ring to Mary Lou. "It's in the back lot. Row D."

"But... my husband's away. I have no way of getting the car home right now," she told the man.

"Sure you do," Bob said. "You drive the truck home, I'll follow, and then I'll drive you back here for your car."

"I can't ask you to do that," Mary Lou said, letting Haley hold the keys but keeping her from chewing on them.

"You can leave it here for as long as you like," biker man said.

"Thank you," she told him as she followed Bob out of the office.

"Say in to Sam for me," the biker added. "Tell him I said we're even."

"I will," she said.

"I really don't mind helping you out," Bob told her as they headed past rows B and C.

She s.h.i.+fted Haley to her other hip. "I hate to break it to you, Mr. Schwegel, but my husband's a Navy SEAL. Believe me, we've got our insurance needs handled."

Bob laughed. "You think this is about me selling you insurance?"

"Isn't it?"

"No. It's just me doing you a favor after you did a favor for me. Very innocent. Just two people being friendly. No ulterior motives. And the name's Bob."

And there was her car. "Oh, drat!" With a new maroon truck lid that was a dark contrast to the light blue body. There was no doubt about it any longer. She drove a white-trash-mobile. She wanted to cry.

"Hey, it just needs a paint job," Bob said, touching her lightly on the arm. "It'll look greata"you can have the whole thing done in maroon. It'll be almost like having a new car."

"Yeah, sure," she said unenthusiastically. The paint job would never happen. She'd make some calls, get some estimates, and be stunned at how expensive it would be. Sam would tell her to go ahead and spend the money, but she'd be unable to. She'd spent too many years with her mother and then Janine, counting nickels and dimes, to be able to spend any money at all on something that foolish.

It ran, didn't it? It got her and Haley where they had to go. That's what really mattered.

Still, the c.r.a.ppy way it looked depressed the h.e.l.l out of her.

Mary Lou unlocked the pa.s.senger's-side door and stepped back to let Bob look for his book.

With a triumphant "Aha!" he pulled it out from underneath the seat. "Thank you," he said, "so much."

"You're welcome," she said, trying out the key on the trunk. It popped open.

He took the keys from her. "Here's what we'll do. You take the truck, I'll drive this car home, then you can drive me back here to get my car. That way you don't have to move the car seat out of the truck. Smart, right?"

"Oh," she said. "I'm sure you don't have time toa""

"My next appointment's not until two-thirty," he said. "Not only do I have time to help you get your car home, but I have time to stop for lunch, too, preferably with a little company for a change." He opened the driver's-side door and slid in behind the wheel. "I'm not going to take no for an answer to either suggestion."

Bob started her car with a roar and, bemused, Mary Lou started backing away.

He made an impatient face at her through the winds.h.i.+eld, motioning her to move faster with his hand, and laughing, she turned.

She could feel him watching her as she walked to Sam's truck, and when she glanced back at him, she caught a definite glint of admiration in his eyes.

Sam probably wouldn't like the idea of her having lunch with a relative stranger. He was always full of warningsa" don't do this, don't do that.

But right about now, with a handsome man checking her out for the first time in a long time, Mary Lou didn't give a good G.o.dd.a.m.n.

"I've always loved your house," Joan said as she helped clear the table after lunch.

Charlotte looked up at her granddaughter, who laughed and held up a hand.

"I know," Joan said. "You don't need to say anything. I remember the hissy fit I threw when you moved here, too. What was I? Eight years old?"

"Seven," Charlie told her as she put the leftover chicken salad into a bowl. "And it wasn't a hissy fit. It was more of a tragic pout. Deep sighs and big, sad eyes. Very melodramatic. It was all Gramps could do to keep from laughing whenever you came over."

Joan remembered which drawer held the lids and fished out the right one. "He finally yelled at me. That was a little scary. Gramps mad. I almost fainted."

"He wasn't really mad." Charlie took the lid from her and sealed the bowl, popping it into the refrigerator.

"Yeah, I know," Joan said. "He was just ready for me to snap out of it. Your old house was great, though."

"It wouldn't have been after they widened the street."

"I know. I drove past it last time I was in town. The traffic's terrible over there. Really noisy. And the entire front yard is gone."

"I do miss that pantry," Charlie admitted.

"And the dumbwaiter, and the front and back staircases," Joan said, remembering. "It was a great house for hide-and-seek, but that's not what made it magical. You and Gramps did that. And when you moved, the magic came with you."

Charlie hugged her. "What a lovely thing to say."

"It's true. I couldn't see it back when I was seven, but I finally caught on."

"There are some truths we're just not ready for," Charlie agreed. The coffeemaker was finally done dripping, and she poured them both a cup. "Are you still drinking this black?"

"Depends on how many calories I had for lunch," Joan admitted. "And today I had way too many, so yes."

"You don't need to diet. I think you look wonderful," Charlie told her, leading the way out onto the porch.

"Thanks, Gramma, buta""

"Tell me about this Lieutenant Muldoon."

Joan laughed and rolled her eyes. "Still trying to get me married, huh? I knew this was coming as soon as Gramps made himself scarce."

It was a habit Charlie and Vince had fallen into over the years, after Sheryl had died. Vince would disappear for a while so that Joan and Charlie would have a chance to talk privately. She didn't think for one moment that she could take the place of Joan's mother, but still, she hoped that being available to listen made things a little easier for her granddaughter.

These days it was tougher than ever to be a young Woman.

"He's just a friend," Joan told her.

"Have you told him that? I may be old, but I still know smitten when I see it."

Joan shook her head as she smiled into her coffee. "Gramma, he's a twenty-five-year-old man. He wants to sleep with me. But he wants to sleep with me because he wants to sleep with everyone. That's what twenty-five-year-old men do."