7 Brides for 7 Bodies (7 page)

She straightened items around the displays, marveling over the fact that the men in her life so exactly matched the four archetypes. Was that why she’d had so much trouble sorting through her feelings for Jack, Peter, and Coop—because they were so different, and because they each appealed to a different part of her?

And all three of them different still from Randolph. Which was a good thing...wasn’t it?

She glanced at Patricia, who was at a kiosk with a customer, hopefully racking up a big, fat commission. Humiliation and anger rolled through her that Randolph had done something to affect the life of someone she knew. It made her that much more antsy to talk to him...to confront him and ask if he’d actually stolen money from people who trusted him.

The theme projected across the back of the booth mocked her.
Your perfect man.

If only such a creature existed.

“Hello, there.”

At the sound of a familiar deep voice, Carlotta winced, then lifted her gaze.

Jack.

Perfect timing.

Chapter Six

“STANDING HERE THINKING about me, I see,” Jack said, nodding to the
Your Perfect Man
proclamation on the booth background.

Carlotta angled her head at him. “You have self-esteem issues, Jack—you have way too much of it.”

Unfazed, he shrugged his wide shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Planning a wedding?”

“Right,” he said dryly.

“What then?”

He put his hands in his pockets and shifted uncomfortably. “After my run-in with the state boys at the jail, and...some other things, my captain thought I needed a few days off. So I put in for security work, and this ridiculous event was my draw.”

Indeed, the orange lanyard around his neck proclaimed SECURITY OFFICER.

The thought of him in the middle of this feminine fracas made her smile. “What exactly are you supposed to be keeping secure?”

He squirmed. “A muckety-muck celebrity thinks he needs a bodyguard from his adoring fans.”

“Jarold Jett?” she asked hopefully.

“Sounds right.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, then nodded. “Yeah. What is he, a reality TV star?”

“Close. He’s a wedding dress designer, and he’s a judge on a competition design show.”

“Great.”

“I’ve heard he suffers from anxiety attacks—he doesn’t like crowds. That’s probably why he wants a bodyguard.”

Jack looked heavenward. “I should’ve gone fishing.”

She grinned. “Actually, I’m hoping to get his autograph.”

He stuffed the paper back into his jacket. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Not exactly.”

“Don’t tell
you’re
planning a wedding?” His gold-colored eyes were suddenly serious.

Patricia walked close, then reached between them to pluck a sterling silver flask from a shelf. “Not Carlotta,” the blonde offered triumphantly. “She and her boyfriend broke up.” Then she sailed away to show the item to a customer.

Carlotta glanced after the woman.
Minus ten points, Patricia.

Jack’s eyebrows rose. “Broke up, huh? Did Ashford take his letterman jacket back?”

She frowned. “I’m working, Jack.”

He frowned back. “Shouldn’t you be taking care of your shoulder?”

“I’m being careful. I need to keep busy, and my boss thought this would be more light duty.”

He conceded with a nod. “Have you made contact with your father?”

“You mean has he made contact with us? No. Liz explained the visitation process and it seems that once again, Randolph is holding all the cards.”

His mouth tightened. “I’m not taking up for him, but the feds are probably keeping him under wraps.”

“Why?”

“Maybe they’re afraid you or Wes will help him hide or destroy evidence.”

Unbidden, a conversation she’d had with the doctor who’d treated her broken arm a few months ago came back to her. Doctor Eames told her he’d been a tennis partner of Randolph’s, and that Randolph had once confided he thought someone in his firm was trying to frame him. He’d asked if he could bring an unnamed item to Eames for safekeeping. But before the exchange could take place, Randolph had been arrested, then had disappeared.

But assuming such evidence ever existed, Carlotta certainly didn’t know of its whereabouts. She scoffed. “Wes and I just want to have a conversation with our dad.”

“I know. But if and when you do, be aware that your communication will be monitored.”

“Liz told me. I don’t understand what’s going on—why do the feds even want him?”

“Securities fraud falls under the jurisdiction of the Secret Service and the FBI. They might eventually pass the case back to the county D.A., but my guess is they want to see if the case is juicy enough to hang on to. Randolph wasn’t connected to The Charmed Killer case, except where you’re concerned, but they don’t know that yet.”

“Are you going to get to question him?”

Jack dropped his gaze for a few seconds, then looked back to her. “No.”

“But you’ve been working Randolph’s case, and you were the arresting officer.”

“I’ve...um...been warned to stay away.”

“Because of what you did for us at the penitentiary?”

“Maybe. Whatever the reason, I had to hand over the case files, and I was told only the feds are allowed to talk to him.”

She made a frustrated noise.

“I know it’s hard, but sit tight, and everything will eventually work out.”

She nodded, trying to believe him, then gestured to a customer. “I really should get back to work.”

“Me, too. After all, I did agree to stay away from you.” He looked her up and down, taking in her pale yellow silk blouse, slim turquoise skirt, and strappy pink sandals. “Remind me why I did that?”

Carlotta’s skin tingled from the electricity pinging between them. “Because you arrested my fugitive father, and things could get messy?”

“Oh, right.” He worked his mouth from side to side. “Do you think we could suspend our agreement for a while?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“I’m on my way to meet the hoity-toity dressmaker, and I could use a translator.”

“Jarold Jett is American, Jack. He speaks English.”

“But I don’t speak designer. I need a buffer.”

She laughed. “Okay. If I can bring my autograph book.”

“Get it.”

Carlotta walked over to Patricia. “Can you handle things here on your own for a while?”

“And keep all the commissions for myself? No problem.”

She balked, remembering the money the Alexanders had lost. “Patricia, I had no idea your parents were—”

“In fact, if you want to cover the fashion show later,” Patricia cut in, “that would be fine with me.”

At the woman’s matter-of-fact change of subject, Carlotta bit down on her tongue. “Okay.” Patricia had a right not to want to discuss the matter, not to accept her apology.

“Edward from the men’s department will be there. Check in with him.”

“I will. See you later.”

When she fell into step next to Jack, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

She gave a humorless laugh. “You mean something else? I found out this morning my coworker’s parents lost their home because of Randolph.”

“They invested with him?”

“Right.”

He sighed. “It’s not your fault, Carlotta.”

“It sure feels like it is.”

As they threaded their way back through the booths, the noise and flurry was cacophonous.

Jack winced. “I didn’t know things like this existed—a trade show just for weddings?”

“It’s big business.”

“A big scam, more like it.”

A woman wearing a voluminous white wedding gown and holding a tray offered them a taste of a wedding cake with edible golf leaf. They declined.

“Like I said,” Jack muttered, then gestured to a booth featuring caged cooing white rock doves available for release at ceremonies. “Do people actually do this stuff?”

“And more,” Carlotta said. “It’s the day most women think about their entire lives, so they want to make it special.”

“Special is one thing—spectacle is another.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to.”

He frowned. “Is that something you’ve always wanted—a big wedding?”

She shrugged. “I never really thought about it. When all the girls I grew up with were getting married, I was being a mom to Wesley.” And she hadn’t been invited to any of their elaborate weddings...had only sold them dresses for their bridal parties, and read about the galas after the fact in the society section of the newspaper. To lighten the mood, she teased, “Don’t you think everyone should get married at least once, Jack?”

“I’m not against marriage,” he said, surprising her. “I just think some people are more excited about the ceremony than about the person they’re marrying.”

“I agree it can get over the top. But some people think it’s important to have a lavish ceremony to make a statement, to include their family and friends, to make it mean something.”

“With a cop’s salary, I guess that leaves me out of the marrying business.”

“Whew,” Carlotta mocked.

He laughed. “So...you and Ashford parted ways, huh?”

She didn’t want to lie, so she sidestepped. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Randolph’s reappearance is bound to cause Peter problems at the firm.”

“I suppose it could be awkward,” he agreed.

“Besides, right now I need to be available for my family...such as it is. Wesley isn’t taking this situation with Dad very well.”

“Wes has a lot on his mind.”

“How much longer will he be working undercover in the loan shark’s organization?”

He gave her a pointed look. “Which you aren’t supposed to know about, remember. And that’s up to the D.A.”

“The man who has it in for my family.”

“Don’t forget that Kelvin Lucas owes you for helping to close The Charmed Killer case.”

“You mean for not becoming his last victim? Actually, Lucas owes Randolph for that...and you.”

His face went hard. “I might not have arrived in time to save you. And don’t think I haven’t replayed that scenario in my mind a hundred times. After what happened to Maria, I don’t think—” He broke off, his voice hoarse.

Alarmed at his tone, she reached over to touch his arm. “Don’t go there, Jack. I’m fine.” But she understood why his captain had suggested he take some time off. She had a feeling the GBI agents weren’t the only people Jack had been short with lately. He needed to decompress after the shocking loss of his partner.

They exited the convention hall and walked across the plaza to a turnaround where taxis dropped off passengers. From the expression on Jack’s face, she knew he was still far away, picturing the scene where Maria had been found drowned in her bathtub, they’d later learned, at the hands of her violent ex-husband. Carlotta wet her lips, wanting to offer Jack some kind of comfort where his former partner was concerned.

“Jack, a couple of nights ago, I...went somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Um...to a place where we’re all living slightly different lives. If it’s any consolation, Maria was fine there...and I gave you information that would keep her safe.”

He gave her a dubious look. “Are you high?”

“No. Although I might have taken one too many pain pills the night I went to this...place. And I know it sounds crazy, but trust me, it happened. Wes was there, and my parents.”

“Your parents, huh?”

“I got to see what my life would’ve been like if they hadn’t left.”

Jack arched an eyebrow. “And?”

“And...it wasn’t as perfect as I’d fantasized, just different than my life now. I, um, was married to Peter.”

“Really? And how was that?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine? Hm.”

She ignored his teasing. “And you were there...and Coop...and Hannah. We didn’t know each other at first, but we did by the time I left.”

“Left?”

“To come back here, of course.”

“Of course. Through a wormhole in the space-time continuum.”

“Laugh if you will, but it happened. I just thought you’d like to know that somewhere, Maria is fine.”

He looked unconvinced. “If you say so.”

She gripped his hand and locked gazes with him. “I do say so.”

He startled at her seriousness, then squeezed her hand. “Okay.”

“You believe me?”

His smile was sad. “I want to.”

It was the most he’d ever revealed himself to her. Ironic, considering he’d recently promised to take a step back from her...and considering he’d just arrested her father. Wesley’s suspicions about Jack reared in her head. Was he being vulnerable...or manipulative? After all, he knew how to play good cop
and
bad cop.

A black limousine pulling to the curb dragged her attention away from Jack. When the driver opened the rear door, a well-dressed man with salt-and-pepper hair alighted, managing not to touch anything. He was handsome, stocky and tanned, and glanced around with an air of “I have arrived.”

“That’s your man,” Carlotta said, then glanced at Jack with an unsettling sense of distrust.
And you always get your man
.

Chapter Seven

“HELLO, MR. JETT,” Carlotta said, stepping forward with a smile. “I’m Carlotta—I work for Neiman’s. And this is Jack Terry, he’s with event security.”

Jarold gave Jack a once over glance. “Good. You look like you can keep the riffraff away from me.”

Carlotta swallowed her judgment over the man’s declaration—maybe he’d been stalked or assaulted in the past.

“My personal assistant couldn’t get on my flight,” he continued, “so she won’t arrive until tomorrow.”

Jack offered the man a curt nod. “I’m supposed to tell you your trunks arrived.”

“I certainly hope so,” the man said, then made a face. “Traffic was hideous.”