Never Love a Naked P.I.

She was so excited it was hard for Marc to contain his anger. He couldn’t believe she and her insane girl friends had taken it on themselves to follow a guy who might be a murderer, for all they knew. And who was a vicious and violent burglar, they certainly did know. Marc had the bruises to prove that.

This…this insane relationship with this…this insane woman were driving him to distraction. How could she be so brazen? So sure of herself? So sure she wouldn’t bring God knows what down on the head of her friends, for God’s sake!

Marc sighed.Heaven help her enemies.

“I knew you would be angry. I just knew it! Don’t try to pretend you’re not. I know that look.” Her voice crackled with indignation over the wires. “We were perfectly safe. Practically an arsenal of stuff from Cissy’s Dad. If that creep had tried anything there would have been such…”

Uh oh, she was really mad at him now.And what had he done?

Be concerned that his girlfriend might have gotten herself in… No! She was not his girlfriend. There was no way in hell this thing between them could last past… Tomorrow could just be the night to bring everything to a head. And then farewell and goodbye. His look softened, he sighed into the mouthpiece.

“Maybe I…” She was fighting hard to maintain her confidence in her decisions. “There wasn’t time to get in touch with you, Marc. And those women are smart. They wouldn’t have put themselves into real danger. And we did learn something.”

MINUTES LATER, Amanda’s assurance in herself slowly began to rebuild as she rushed ahead with her story to Marc. They were on Fifth Avenue, having met in front of Saks, moving down the street.

“After it dawned on me, I left Cissy and grabbed a cab back here, praying I hadn’t lost him. I hung around, watching the red door at Elizabeth Arden’s. Sure enough, Nathan came out. Probably to hang around while Christine had her facial or whatever. He headed toward the Museum of Modern Art and, Marc, I swear, the big guy just emerged from the crowd. It was spooky. I had really been keeping an eye out for him. I have no idea where he came from.”

Marc looked at her desperately. “Go on, go on!”

“Anyway, he started following Nathan and started closing in. I panicked. I didn’t know what he was going to do.

“I started to run for a cop- they’re everywhere in midtown- but the guy caught up with Nathan and stopped him right outside the museum. I was about half a block away. He acted very polite and Nathan didn’t seem to mind. It was like some guy on the street asking him for directions or something. They had a short conversation. And then Nathan just beamed. You know, the way he does when he turns in a particularly good illustration at work.

“ No, of course you wouldn’t know that. Well, he does. Or… or like when somebody really praises him. Then he gave the guy something, his card it looked like, although who would have thought Nathan had cards. And the guy thanked him profusely, backing away like Nathan had just done him the hugest favor, and walked away as Nathan strutted into MOMA. The guy started in my direction so I had to duck out of the way and when I thought it was safe to look, he was gone.”

She paused, flushed with excitement. Waiting to see if he had caught the significance, waiting to see if he was going to yell at her or praise her.

He grabbed her hard- to shut her up, to yell at her, to shut himself up, to love her- and planted a hard, possessive kiss on her unbelievably soft and yielding mouth, because he couldn’t stand one more second of being in her presence without holding her tight.

In front of Fifth Avenue Presbyterian. Where people got married all the time who weren’t even Presbyterian.

His blood ran cold.

Even as his body throbbed blisteringly hot.

Chapter 16

HE ALL but begged her to spend the night with him-at a cheap motel, at an incredibly expensive hotel, on the Great Lawn at Central Park- anywhere. Okay, hehad begged. Cajoled. Pleaded. Teased. He had ended up on his knees in the middle of the sidewalk on Fifth Avenue clutching her legs, threatening to handcuff himself to her until she agreed. For a moment Amanda wondered if the pleading private eye at her feet really might have a pair of cuffs on him.

They had both collapsed in a hugging, laughing heap outside of Trump Tower drawing an appalled, disapproving frown from the haughty, white-haired, spit and polish uniformed American doorman and an understanding, nonchalant shrug from the European one.

Marc left, grumbling, threatening to embarrass them both at the nude posing session tomorrow. And then had tenderly kissed her goodbye with such a gentle and passionate longing Amanda had immediately regretted her decision and had to clamp her jaw shut to keep from calling out after him as he vanished into the evening crowd.

The next twenty-four hours were torture.

And as busy as hell, fortunately. They talked to each other every few hours. He had met his brother’s “young woman”, he told her, and wonder of wonders, she was smart, secure, and put up with no guff when David began to rise to his full, overbearing height. She seemed totally devoted to him.

“I felt like I had stumbled into a loony bin where the people you think you’ve known all your life morph into completely different beings right before your eyes. Weird, Ace. I didn’t know the guy had that kind of…” He searched for the word. “Communication… in him. I sure as hell wouldn’t have minded him throwing a little of it my way when we were kids.”

Amanda’s heart went out to Marc. But he was a big boy now. A very big boy capable of manly acts and manly coping. An extremely impressive, complicated man who tangled her mind and her body and who forced himself into every cranny of her consciousness even as she tried to concentrate on the immediate goal at hand.

A few calls later. Amanda had information to share.

“Marc, I think the professor’s going to be all right. He’s still enormously excited, but he sound’s so much more focused. It’s the session. The anticipation seems to be doing the most amazing thing to people. Wilde can’t stop chuckling. He’s got Zabar’s whipping up Florentine goodies. Christine keeps talking about her push-up Renaissance outfit and Nathan is going to wear tights as part of the costume Mr. Wilde has rented. She convinced him. He says he’s got great legs- even better than Brando’s inJulius Caesar – ‘bout time we all saw them. Nathan, not Wilde, ding bat.” She laughed at his joke and wished he were there. But he was off to the gym.

Later, Marc had information to share. “I look terrific, Ace! Muscles even I didn’t know I had. It was a great workout. Young trainer, Chad, when he could stop chewing his cud, kept trying to talk to me about entering a competition. Can you believe that?”

He laughed, as excited as everyone else, Amanda thought.

“I had some great ideas. What do you think of the Lacoon? You know, the daddy in the middle. Too tortured? Or what about the Heracles, the one with the big bow? It’s at the Met and LA County. Too blatant? Pure classicism, but do you think it’s too modern? I want to really get through this time, Ace. Inspire you all.”

“Do the Dying Slave again; that is so powerful, so painfully beautiful.”

“I want to really shake everybody up. Get Christine’s mind off my crotch. Speaking of my crotch…”

“Do the David. That statue represents everything Michelangelo ever accomplished, spent his life accomplishing: strength, beauty, power, determination, hope.”

“I can’t do David, I’m the wrong shape, you know that. He’s a kid.”

“He’s a man, Marc. A man on the verge of becoming a greater man. Do David.”

A sob suddenly erupted from somewhere deep inside Amanda, startling them both. She gasped, choking it back, then filled her lungs with quick, deep drafts of air. A couple of sniffs and she pulled herself together. He silently waited.

“Marc? I’m sorry, I don’t… I guess I’m so on edge, too. So looking forward…”