She pushed aside a couple of jackets and studied option number two, a sleek, dark violet number with a deep, off-the-shoulder cowl neckline that could only be described as provocative.
Number two was probably not a good idea. Regardless of how it had started out, this was not a real date.
But a strange recklessness seemed to have replaced her usual good sense. What the heck, the relic was his problem, not hers. This was the first time she’d been out to dinner with a man in months, and she intended to enjoy it, even if she was breaking all the rules.
She headed for the shower, stripping off her clothes.
AN HOUR LATER SHE INSERTED THE SECOND OF A PAIR OF amber earrings into her ears and stood back to survey the results in the mirror. In spite of the stern lecture she had given herself in the shower, she could not suppress the little thrill of anticipation that shivered through her.
“Think the neckline is too low?” she asked Araminta.
Araminta was perched on the dresser in front of the mirror, playing with a shiny tube of lipstick. She looked up at the sound of Celinda’s voice and made what Celinda took to be an approving noise.
“I’m not sure.” Celinda leaned forward, studying the drape of the fluid fabric of the cowl neckline in the mirror. There were lots of deep shadows and some cleavage, but on the whole, everything still looked decent.
“The earrings may be a little too much,” she said to Araminta. “If there’s a fine line between elegant and boring, the line between sexy and slutty is even thinner. What do you think?”
The doorbell rezzed. Araminta bounced up and down, dropped the lipstick, and hopped up onto Celinda’s bare shoulder. Celinda could feel four of the dust bunny’s six paws gripping her bare skin.
“Watch the claws,” she said. The warning was probably unnecessary. Araminta had never scratched her, not even by accident.
The night was warm and humid. There was no need for a wrap. She stepped into a pair of high-heeled sandals and went down the short hall to answer the door.
Araminta was chortling exuberantly now, scarcely able to contain herself.
“Sheesh,” Celinda muttered. “If you like Oakes so much, why did you run off with his relic?”
Araminta ignored the question, of course. But her eagerness was plain.
Celinda stopped in front of the door to check the security peephole.
Her pulse kicked up immediately at the sight of Davis standing on the other side. He looked as if he had just walked straight out of the heart of midnight in a pair of black trousers, an elegantly casual black jacket, and a black shirt undone at the collar. The only touches of color were his amber cuff links and the amber face of his watch.
But the really startling accessory was the big ball of blue-eyed lint sitting on his shoulder. That explained Araminta’s excitement. She had sensed the other dust bunny.
Astonished, Celinda opened the door. “No wonder you know so much about dust bunnies,” she said.
“This is Max,” Davis said.
Max and Araminta made small, welcoming noises at each other and blinked their daylight eyes.
Celinda stood back to allow Davis and Max into the tiny front hall. Her astonishment gave way to deep suspicion. “Did you bring Max because you think he can find the artifact that Araminta hid?”
“No,” Davis said. “That’s not why I brought him along tonight.”
“Why, then?” she asked, still wary.
He smiled faintly. “Thought that since you and I are going to be busy, he might like to make friends with Araminta. I doubt if Verdigris welcomes critters. Figured we could leave these two in the car while we eat.”
Araminta made more small, squeaky sounds. Max responded in kind.
“Well, they do seem to like each other,” Celinda said, still a little uneasy about the situation. “How did you find Max?”
“He found me. Started coming around my back door a few months ago after I got out of the—” Davis broke off abruptly. “Made the mistake of feeding him. Next thing I knew, he had moved in.”
“That was pretty much how it was with Araminta and me. Got a hunch dust bunnies choose the people they want to attach themselves to for reasons we’ll probably never figure out.”
“Mysterious dust bunny thing,” he agreed. He surveyed the cowl neckline with masculine approval. “Great dress.”
She blushed a little. “Thanks. Nice jacket.”
“Thanks.”
There was a short pause. Celinda tried to think of what to say or do next. Now that the rules against wearing a provocative dress and allowing a date to pick you up at your home had been broken, things were getting murky fast. She was definitely on a slippery slope, but she had to admit it was exciting.
“Ready?” Davis asked.
“Yes.” She picked up the small clutch purse on the hall table and followed him out onto the landing. She paused to rez the lock and then dropped her key into the purse.
They went downstairs into the tiny front hall. Mrs. Furnell’s front door snapped open right on cue. Betty Furnell peered out. She was dressed in a pair of pink sweatpants and matching top, snappy pink running shoes, and a lot of oversized jewelry that she had purchased from the shopping channel. Her white hair was severely permed into a helmet shape, and her round face was illuminated with avid curiosity.
She gave Davis a not-so-discreet once-over before pinning Celinda with feigned innocence.
“Oh, hello, dear.” She hoisted the small plastic sack she held in one hand. “I was just on my way to empty the garbage.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Furnell.” Celinda hesitated and then decided she had no option but to introduce Davis. “This is Mr. Oakes.”
Davis offered his hand. “A pleasure, Mrs. Furnell.”
Betty shook his hand vigorously. “I see you’ve got one of those little dust bunny beasts, too. Cute little devils.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked at the plastic sack. “Would you like me to take that out to the trash bin for you?”
“Heavens no, wouldn’t dream of it, not with you all dressed up so nice like that.”
“Then, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on our way. We’ve got reservations.”
“Have a lovely time,” Betty said.
“We will,” he assured her.
Celinda was startled by the unmistakably possessive way he took her arm, opened the front door, and escorted her outside onto the sidewalk.
“I’m guessing that’s your alibi for last night?” he asked, sounding amused. “The landlady who can vouch for the fact that you were at home alone between midnight and three AM?”
“Mrs. Furnell doesn’t miss a thing that goes on around here.”
“Yeah, I got that impression. Does she greet all your dates that way?”
“I have no idea. You’re the first date I’ve had since I moved here to Cadence.”
“Hard to believe.”
She wasn’t sure how to take that, so she let it go.
“How long have you been in town?” he asked, opening the door of a sleek, black Phantom 3000.
“Four months.” Celinda got into the car. Now, why did her intuition tell her that he already knew the answer to that question? Maybe it was that subtle little pulse in his psi waves.
The passenger seat cradled her like a leather-clad lover. Araminta hopped from her shoulder onto the back of the seat. Davis closed the door and went around the front of the vehicle.
Surreptitiously, Celinda inhaled the unmistakable smell of expensive car and tried not to appear impressed. The security consulting business obviously paid well, she decided. Whatever else he was, Davis was no ordinary PI.
When he got in beside her, however, she was suddenly very aware of just how close and intimate the interior of the Phantom was.
“Where did you live before you came here?” Davis asked, rezzing the engine.
No doubt about it, she was being interrogated. Well, he was a private investigator after all. She must not forget that.
“Frequency City,” she said, cooling her tone a little.
“I’m just making conversation. That’s what you’re supposed to do on a date, isn’t it?” He eased the Phantom away from the curb. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m getting the impression that you would prefer not to talk about your life in Frequency.”