He didn’t quite know what it was about Ripley Logan that captured his attention. Yes, she had Julia Roberts’s girl-next-door good looks, but compared to the women at the strip club earlier in the evening, she didn’t begin to scream bedroom material. But that’s exactly where he wanted to get her—in his bed. Take up right where they’d left off.
The top few buttons of the oxford she filched had been left undone, and as she leaned forward to take a French fry from his untouched plate, the shirt bowed open, revealing more than a healthy stretch of soft skin. He nearly groaned, remembering all too vividly how it had felt to have the rounded flesh of her breasts pressed against his chest.
He started coughing and reached for his water glass only to find she’d already drained it.
“Sorry,” she said. She wiped her hand on her napkin, then held out her cola. “I guess I was thirsty, too.”
So was he, but he wasn’t about to say for what. He gulped the rest of the cola then held out the glass. She narrowed her eyes and took it back.
Brushing her hands together, she said, still chewing, “So that’s it. What I know, you now know.”
Joe sat back. Well, that had ended quicker than he’d thought. He’d entirely missed all the cues women usually gave when they were reaching the end of their monologues. Which caught him off guard. “Well, that’s…interesting.”
“Exciting,” she said, and that twinkle entered her eyes, making him wonder all over again what put it there. “At least after the bath part.”
“Hmm. The bath.”
She laughed, and he had the distinct impression it was at him. “You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?”
His brows rose high on his forehead. Women were usually offended when they figured out he wasn’t paying attention. She appeared amused. He scratched his head. Go figure.
“Sure I did. I heard every word,” he said, feeling required to make at least the token objection.
She pushed her plate away and rested her elbows on the table, then crossed her arms. “So tell me what I said.”
Now this he was used to. All he had to do was choose a few words he’d picked up during the past half hour and he’d convince her he had been listening. “There’s the missing person…the bath…the gunmen.”
Her full lips quirked. “And?”
“And…” He was surprised at his own laugh. “Okay, you’re right, I wasn’t listening.”
Now why had he gone and admitted it? He’d never done that before.
Ripley waved her hand. “That’s okay. I don’t think I made much sense even to myself. I probably won’t until I figure out who those guys are and what they wanted.” She looked to her left, then her right, then leaned forward to peer into the bedroom. “Is it nearly two already?”
She began to get up, and he caught her wrist. “What did you say?”
She blinked at him. “Is it two already?”
He shook his head. “No. The other part.”
“What? That I’m going to figure out what those guys wanted?”
Yes, that was it. Now that his mind was functioning at least seminormally, an obvious thought emerged. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea if you reported them to the police first?”
“Police? Why would I call the police?”
She glanced at where his hand rested against her slender wrist. He swore he could feel the thrum of her pulse there. He removed his hand. “Oh, I don’t know. Call me stupid, but if three armed men were pursuing me, and one was still possibly camping out in my room, the police would be the first people I’d call.”
She reached out and grasped his shoulder, bringing her face mere inches from his. He caught a brief whiff of peaches. “Don’t worry, Joe. I think I can handle a couple of armed men all by my lonesome. That’s part of what being a P.I. is all about.”
“Uh-huh,” he said slowly. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re one scary woman?”
She was insane. It was as simple as that. And if he knew what was good for him, he would be picking up the phone right now and calling the police himself.
She smiled, then turned from him, allowing an unobstructed view of her from behind. Okay, maybe he’d call in a minute. The shirt she wore was creased at her waist on one side, revealing just a glimpse of a curved cheek. He cleared his throat.
“Besides, what do you think the police would say?” she offered along with the fantastic view. But he’d bet she didn’t have a clue what she was doing. “‘Do you know who the men were, Miss Logan?’ No. ‘Do you know why anyone would want to hurt you, Miss Logan?’ No. Then they’d flick their little notepads closed and tell me to call them if anything else happens.” She waved her right hand, hiking up the shirt even more as she walked away from him. It was all Joe could do not to slump in the chair and groan.
She tossed him a glance over her shoulder. “By the way, you’re not married, are you?”
“Married?” He all but croaked the word.
She smiled. “I’ll take that as a no. Good. I wouldn’t want anyone getting jealous over my staying here.”
“Jealous?”
“Yeah, you know. Wives tend to get a little crazy when they find other women staying in their husbands’ rooms.”
“Yeah, um, crazy.” Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. “What do you mean by staying? What—here?”
She frowned. “Why, yes. Where else would I stay so long as one of those mean, nasty men is still in my room?”
Mean? Nasty? Joe scratched his head. Did those words come straight from the P.I. academy?
He didn’t get a chance to ask. Ripley waggled her fingers at him, then disappeared into the bedroom, not even the view she’d offered enough to take his mind from the situation at hand. “Good night, Joe. Oh, and thanks again.”
She closed the door.
Huh.
Joe sat there for long, silent moments staring at the white enamel of the door, trying to convince himself that what had just happened had, in fact, happened. Had she really locked him out of his own bedroom? He slowly shook his head. This was nuts. In fact, not much of what had happened tonight made much sense. First a naked woman smelling of peaches climbs into his bed buck naked and plants a wet one on him, awakening all sorts of reactions he had just been wondering if he’d grown immune to. Then she virtually takes over his hotel room, wearing his clothes and ordering room service on his tab. Now she’d just told him she was taking over his bed…without him in it.
The same woman who claimed to be a P.I. but struck him as anything but.
Making that phone call to the police was looking more and more appealing.
“Oh,
