“No.”
“And you’re one of them?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Bye-bye.”
Before he could scoot to the edge of the booth, her hand shot out and grabbed his forearm, anchoring it to the tabletop. “You were the only key player on that case who refused to cooperate with our production team. You took no one’s call, and when someone did get through, you hung up on them the moment they identified themselves.
“You were unshakable against our senior host, renowned for his persistence and powers of persuasion. You wouldn’t grant him an interview or even a private conversation. He’s the one who told me that you were an arrogant prick.” Her heart was thumping. She took another breath. “I reached out in the desperate hope that you would talk to me.”
He looked down at her hand, which was clutching his arm just below the rolled cuff of his sleeve. “I don’t want to arm-wrestle you. Especially with an audience. Let go.”
“Hear me out.”
“Let. Go.”
“Please, Mr. Bowie. It would be a terrible mistake for you not to discuss—”
“My terrible mistake was being lured by an urgent and sexy female voice on the phone. Gotta hand it to you. You laid an enticing trap.”
“Give me two minutes.”
“Thanks again for the Coke.”
He moved to leave. She gripped his arm tighter. “Two minutes.”
A hard shake of his head. “I’m out of here.”
“Thirty seconds. Please. Thirty seconds and you won’t have wasted the trip out here.” When she sensed his hesitation, she squeezed his arm. “Half a minute. Please.”
He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought on it, then said, “Tell me something I don’t know.”
She exhaled and whispered, “It’s going to happen again.”
Chapter 2
Another?”
As the bartender came out from behind the bar and made his way over to them, John had seen his reflection in the blackened window. But Beth Collins, entirely caught up in their conversation, seemed to have been unaware of his approach until he spoke, and then she flinched.
John leaned away from her, smiled up at the bartender, and reached for the fresh drink. “Thanks, man. How’d you guess?”
“Well, from the look of things, one wasn’t gettin’ it done.” A chuckle rumbled from his barrel chest. “What about you, sweetheart? Something stronger this round?”
She tensed in reaction to being addressed as “sweetheart” but responded with a smile and a cool, “No thank you.” Like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
“In fact…” She opened her pricey purse and took out a twenty-dollar bill, as though she’d planned to have it at the ready rather than pay with a credit card. “This should cover our drinks. Keep the change.”
“’ppreciate it.” The bartender took the bill from her, and, as he lumbered away, socked John on the shoulder, saying under his breath, “Good luck, buddy.”
When he was out of earshot, she asked, “Do you think he’ll remember me?”
Was she kidding? If she’d been wearing a diamond tiara in place of the baseball cap, she couldn’t have looked more conspicuous in this setting. Despite the cap and plain white t-shirt, everything about her screamed class.
True, he’d only seen her from the waist up, but the t-shirt was made of stretchy stuff, and if the bottom half of her came even close to being as shapely as the top, he was thinking that an hour or two rodeo in a hasty-tasty motel wouldn’t be a bad way to play out the rest of the afternoon.
So long as they didn’t converse.
In answer to her question, he said, “Yeah, I think he’ll remember you. Why is that a problem? Does it throw a wrench into your sabotage scheme?”
“It’s not a scheme.”
He gave her a look.
She set both hands flat on the table and leaned across it. “Didn’t you understand what I said?”
“I understood perfectly. I also understand that this was an ambush. I hate myself for falling for it, but now I’m leaving.”
He glanced behind him toward the four at the billiard table and saw right through their seeming disregard of them. Of her in particular. He muttered a curse under his breath and sighed as he came back around. “Tuck that damn purse under your arm. Tight. Don’t make eye contact. Got it? Not with anybody. And don’t even think of arguing with me about this.”
He scooted out of the booth, reached down and took her by the elbow, and, when she was standing, steered her toward the exit. The bartender sent him a wink and a thumbs-up.
As they walked past the grungy group, the mustachioed one with the attitude and a matchstick in his mouth flipped him the bird. John ignored it, pulled open the heavy door, and guided the woman outside.
Rain clouds were gathering, so, although the temperature was seasonally cool, the atmosphere was damp with the promise of precipitation.