She took the “S” dress off the hanger and held it up. It really was lovely. The fabric was as light as air, and when she put it on and zipped up the back, the fabric clung in all the right places and felt wonderful against her skin.
Definitely too racy for tonight, she told herself.
She reluctantly removed the dress, put it back on the hanger, and sorted through her closet several times before settling on what Cordie called her old lady’s mourning dress. The thing was shaped like a sack. Even Regan, who usually didn’t focus very hard on her appearance, was so appalled when she looked at herself in the full-length mirror, she actually took a step back.
Her brothers would definitely approve of this one. “It’s fine,” she said out loud, trying to convince herself that the safe black sheath was better than the I-want-to-sin-tonight dress, which made her feel so sensual and feminine.
“Yes, this is fine,” she repeated. Then she sighed. “If I were eighty.”
Sick and tired of acting like a prude, she put on the sinner dress again. Then she searched through her drawers until she found the black, fringed silk wrap she’d purchased in Italy a couple of years ago. When she draped it around her shoulders just right, her back and chest were nicely covered.
Her only jewelry was a diamond pendant that hung on a platinum chain and a pair of diamond stud earrings.
She folded the wrap on the back of a chair, took a deep breath, and then opened the doors and walked into the parlor. Wincott had picked up a french fry and had it halfway to his mouth when he saw her. He froze, the forgotten french fry dangling in the air from the tips of his fingers.
He gaped at her. She waited for him to say something, and when he didn’t, she asked, “Do you think this dress is okay? It’s… decent enough, isn’t it?”
She’d put him on the spot asking him such a foolish question, and she was sorry she’d said anything. Not that it mattered. And still he gaped. Oh, dear, she thought. He had given her the onceover and was staring at her strappy, high-heeled sandals.
“I’ll go change.”
“No, no, it’s okay. Honest. You just took me by surprise. Your legs…” He realized what he was about to say and stopped in time.
“Yes?” she asked, looking down. Her dress had a ragged hemline, and in places the fabric floated well above her knees. “What about my legs?”
“Long,” he said, nodding. “Yeah, they’re long… I mean tanned. Have you been in the sun?” He cleared his throat, dropped the French fry on his plate, and stammered, “Your dress is pretty.”
“Thank you.”
He wanted to say, Wait until Alec gets a look at you, but he didn’t. She was already feeling self-conscious, and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. The woman was a knockout. How could she not know it?
The knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. Regan went into the bedroom to collect her wrap and her evening bag while Wincott let Alec in.
She could hear the two men talking as she turned the lights off and walked back into the parlor. Wincott was watching Alec as he spotted Regan in the doorway. He gave her a quick glance and said, “You’ll need a raincoat.”
“Yes. All right.”
She disappeared into the bedroom again. Wincott stood in front of the sofa staring at Alec, willing him to say something. Wincott couldn’t stop grinning. Alec was good, all right. He hadn’t shown any outward reaction to the vision standing before him. He hadn’t even blinked. Come to think of it, he hadn’t taken a breath either.
He kept staring into the bedroom, though, even when he said to Wincott, “What are you looking at?”
“You.”
“And?”
“And I’m wondering how come you’re not drooling. Must have a lot of discipline,” he said.
Alec looked at him. “We’re here to do a job, and that’s all.”
“You’re saying you’re not going to try to get her-”
Alec cut him off. He knew where he was going. “Not another frickin’ word, or I swear I’ll shoot you.”
“Hey, I wasn’t going to say anything offensive. Well, maybe I was gonna say something like, ‘You kids have a nice time tonight, but you keep your hands to yourself.’ You know, I might have said something like that.”
Chapter Thirty
Alec was wearing a black raincoat over his tux and looked devastatingly handsome. He opened the door for her, stepped back, and said to Wincott, “Replacement’s here.”
Wincott’s phone was ringing. “I’ll go over a couple of things with him. You two go on.”
The door closed as he was answering the phone.
They didn’t speak until they were in the car and on their way north. Regan gave Alec directions to the country club-she’d written them down on a three-by-five index card-but he already knew where it was located.
“Are you always so organized?” he asked.
“I try to be,” she said. She pulled out a handful of cards, shuffled through them, and put them back in her purse.
“What are all those?”
“Notes for tonight,” she said.
“Do you have to give a speech?” he asked.
“Just a couple of words.”
She didn’t expound, and he figured he’d find out what it was all about when he got there. He was having a difficult time paying attention to the road. Her perfume was playing havoc with his concentration, and all he wanted to think about was how sexy she had looked when she walked into the parlor.
Yeah, right. Who was he kidding? He was trying to picture her naked, and that was what was playing havoc with his concentration.
They’d driven a couple of miles without speaking again, and the silence was awkward. Regan wished he would say something, even if it was a mundane remark about the weather. He had a ferocious frown on his face. What in heaven’s name was he thinking about?
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“What? Oh, sure. Everything’s fine.”
“You were frowning.”
He glanced over at her. “I was?”
“What were you thinking about?”
You. Naked. Stalling while he tried to come up with a suitable lie, he said. “Just now?”
He eased the car down the ramp onto the interstate and swung in behind a pickup. Traffic was unusually heavy, even for Saturday night, but he still didn’t have any trouble keeping track of the sedan following them.
“We’ve got company.”
“We do?”
“The gray sedan two cars back. They’ve been following us since we left the hotel, and they don’t seem to care if we notice them or not. I’m not worried, just irritated.”
She tried to see the sedan from her side-view mirror, and when that didn’t work, she twisted in her seat to look out the back window. The seat belt cut into her neck.
“I don’t see a sedan.”
He pulled over into the middle lane and accelerated, and as soon as he did that, the sedan followed.
Her eyes grew huge. “I see them. There are two men.” Turning to Alec, she said, “Why aren’t we worried?”
“They’re security guards.”
“So now I’ve got security guards following me around the city? Even when I’m with you? Who do you suppose gave that order?”
“Your brother.”
She settled back in the seat, adjusted her raincoat over her knees, and stared out the window. She didn’t say another word for several minutes. Alec glanced over at her and saw the worry on her face. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.
“I was just wondering why we haven’t heard from him,” she said. “Why hasn’t he tried to contact me? It’s been two weeks, Alec. Do you still think he will?”
He could hear her anxiety. “Yes, I do.”
“But what happens if he waits?”
“Then we wait.”
“How much time will the lieutenant let Detective Wincott and you and the others spend on this? You’re all overworked, and I know there aren’t enough of you to go around. If nothing happens, and you leave Chicago, and he goes into hiding…” She suddenly stopped, took a breath, and told herself to calm down. Alec wasn’t clairvoyant. He couldn’t possibly have all the answers.