Stella, Get Your Man. Nancy Bartholomew

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in front of Jake, the same expression mirrored in my own eyes. Now, here I was, the bystander, while Mia Lange, the dark-haired pixie, was the object of Jake’s very rapt attention.

      “I just knew you’d be the one,” she whispered. “I’ll be in touch.”

      Oh, no you won’t, I thought, you will so not be touching this man. He’s mine! The thought jumped unbidden into my head and just as quickly I forced it back out.

      “How will we reach you, Ms. Lange?” I asked.

      “It’s all in there,” she said, indicating the manila folder she’d given Jake. “All my numbers are in there, my sister’s, my cell and my pager.”

      Jake and I watched Mia Lange turn and walk away. She strode out the door past Nina without so much as a sideways glance. She almost collided with Spike in the hallway.

      “Excuse me!” Spike said as Mia practically ran her down.

      “Certainly,” Mia murmured, apparently oblivious to the sarcastic tone.

      Spike stepped into the waiting room, saw the three of us staring after Mia and stopped.

      “Who the hell was that?” When no one answered, Spike shook her head. “Important client, huh?”

      Nina was the first to snap out of the Mia trance.

      “Oh. My. God!” she squealed. “Important? You wanna know what’s important? Me and Stella almost got killed at Sheeler’s gas station! Some idiots shot at us! Oh. My. God!”

      Spike stared at Nina, her face whitening as the news sank in. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Who did this?”

      She crossed the room to Nina, put her arm around her shoulders and hugged her. “Honey, are you okay?”

      Nina nodded, her eyes huge with remembered fear. “They could’ve killed us! But don’t you worry, I’m ready for them now!” She reached underneath her desk and pulled out the tire iron and a spray can of room deodorizer.

      Spike looked at the two objects and frowned. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I understand the tire iron, but what about the room freshener?”

      Nina grinned, pulled a lighter out from the pocket of her jeans and brandished it in front of us.

      “My secret weapon,” she said. “The bad guy comes for me. I try to hit him with the tire iron, but in case it doesn’t work, I pull out my spray can. I point it at him, flick my Bic, and push! Instant flamethrower! See?”

      She made a move to click the lighter, but Jake was faster, pulling the Bic out of her hand as I grabbed the spray can.

      “I believe you!” Jake said. “I just don’t want you to miscalculate and torch the office.”

      Nina rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t going to actually do it, stupid. What do you think I am, a pyronaut?”

      “Pyromaniac?” I prompted.

      “Whatever!” Nina groused. “I’m not stupid, that’s all I’m saying.”

      “Well, of course not, baby,” Spike cooed. “No one thinks you’re stupid. I think you’re very brave.”

      Nina quit pouting and smiled. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Totally. You do?”

      Spike nodded.

      Jake nudged me, motioning me back inside our office. “Joey Smack, you think?” he murmured.

      “Absolutely. I think paybacks are murder and he’s pissed. We’ll be on his shit list for quite a while.”

      Jake smiled. “Nothin’ we can’t handle, especially from New Jersey.” Jake plopped back down in my chair, propped his feet up on the desk and turned his thousand-watt attention to me. “Yep, old Joey Smack is gonna have a hard time exacting his revenge when we’re in New Jersey and he doesn’t have a clue.”

      “New Jersey?” I echoed stupidly.

      “Yeah, I mean, that is where the boy was born and raised. Don’t you think we oughta take up the trail there and see where it leads?”

      Jake’s eyes twinkled as he picked up the envelope stuffed full of cash and tapped it against his open palm.

      “Oh, yeah, babe. Me and you. A tiny mom-and-pop motel, all but vacant for the winter and a missing brother. Oh, yeah. What a life! It could take weeks to find that boy. Imagine.”

      I kept silent, knowing full well Jake was quite capable of hanging himself without my help.

      “Yep,” he said, stretching back in the leather chair. “Two people could get to know each other quite well in a situation like that. Intimately, I’d say.”

      There you go. Give a man enough rope and he’ll ruin every opportunity, usually with his mouth.

      I leaned in the doorway, arms folded across my chest, the perfect nonverbal picture of the word no.

      “So, you’re looking forward to a little time away, just the two of us?” I purred, enjoying the setup.

      Jake gave me the look that flipped my stomach like a pancake, savored the effect, and practically crowed. “Oh, yeah, babe. I’ve been waiting for this for a lifetime.”

      “Obviously,” I murmured. I let my gaze drift lazily down his body, stopping midway as I licked my lips and only half faked anticipation.

      Jake smiled. It was a shame to have to burst his bubble.

      “So, Jake?” I cooed.

      “Yeah, babe?”

      “Has it occurred to you that Joey Smack won’t settle for us being out of town and that he’ll come after Aunt Lucy and Nina next? Have you forgotten that Aunt Lucy is a very valuable chemist and that you remain under government contract to ensure her safety? Have you completely stopped thinking with the Big Head because the Little Head is currently in charge of your life, thus insuring that I won’t come within thirty yards of you, even if you were suddenly the last human being alive and all the vibrators had dead batteries?”

      I fired the questions like rifle shots and the effect was worth every word. Jake went from complacently confident of popping me in the sack, to confused and finally, irritated. I had him, all right, right where I wanted him. So why did I still feel disappointed?

      “So what are you saying, one of us has to stay here?”

      I shrugged. “That’s one option, or they could come with us.”

      Jake exploded. “Oh, now that’s a plan, Stella. We pack up two, maybe three cars, with your aunt, your cousin, her girlfriend and Lloyd, then proceed to Surfside Isle, New Jersey, to look for a missing person whom we are to find but not approach. We don’t have a name, a description, or any other information, but you want to make this ‘easy’ case into a family fishing trip. Oh, now that’s professional. Yeah, the Beverly Hillbillies Private Investigation Company is at your service!”

      I

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