Chapter Two – Dance Fever
"Mr. Nelson," Taylor called after pressing the intercom to his office.
"Yes, Taylor?"
"The results are back from the lab on Ettore Sansone." She grimaced slightly as she said the name. It wasn't that she had anything against the man, except that he was a salesman, or his name; it was that she enjoyed the sound of it so much that bothered her. It echoed in her mind over and over. Eh-tor-ray San-so-nay. She couldn't get the name out of her head and it was starting to tick her off. "He's good to go, whenever you want to bring him aboard."
"That's good news. I'm about to head into the morning manager's meeting. Would you give him a call and ask him if he can start in the morning?"
Taylor sighed to herself and pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. "Of course," she agreed reluctantly before switching off the intercom. She took a deep breath and sat back in her chair. As she was pulling his file from the drawer to get his phone number she heard the giggles from the outer office. "Yes, ladies?"
Jenny Warner and Estelle Tracey ducked into her office. Now the dealership's accounting staff was all huddled in one office. A small staff was all that was warranted for the amount of sales generated.
"What's so funny," Taylor asked in mock sternness.
"Way-yull," Jenny drawled. "Estelle an' I were just sayin' that if you don't wanna cawl Mister Sansone…we'd sure love to."
"Ya'll get out of my office, now!" Taylor barked good-naturedly. "You two are in perpetual heat around these salesmen. I swear, one of these days."
"Sawry, Taylor," they apologized in unison.
She shook her head as she dialed the phone number. After five rings she expected an answering machine to pick up.
~*~
"Hey, boss. Ettore's getting a call!"
Donovan slowly walked into the room. After tucking his hair behind his ear, he reached for the phone and signaled Cody to connect the call. "Pronto," he greeted cordially.
"Mr. Sansone?"
"Sì," Donovan answered with a frown. He had been waiting for this call, but he had not been expecting the cool voice of Taylor Kinney.
"Yes, well…Mr. Sansone, this is Taylor Kinney from Nelson Creswell Motors. I've been asked to call and inform you that, if you are still interested, you may start working tomorrow morning."
"Sì, of course I am interested. What time do I start?" Her heavy sigh reached his ear easily and he wondered what exactly had her so irritated. This simple phone call did not seem to be enough to cause that, but then he remembered that she did not like dealing with salespeople in the least.
"There's a sales meeting at nine o'clock each morning. I would appreciate it if you would come in a few minutes early and fill out payroll forms," she replied flatly as if she didn't care one way or the other if he ever showed up.
"Of course. Until tomorrow," he answered smoothly and ended the call.
Alex scrunched up her face as she entered through the connecting doors to their hotel rooms. "She really has no desire to see you," she commented as she flopped down onto the bed.
Donovan shrugged and grimaced as he ran a hand through his long hair. He was looking forward to the end of the assignment if only to cut his hair again. He hadn't worn his hair that long in more years than he could remember. "She has no use for salesmen, that much is apparent."
"And you think getting close to her is the key to this case?" Jake asked.
Donovan reached for his Styrofoam cup and sipped at the now tepid coffee. "Until we discover how Creswell is transporting the cocaine, she's our only link to proving he's running the money through the company. As office manager, she would have full access to the books."
"Maybe so, but she won't trust you enough to share that information with you," Monica interjected.
"Not now, but eventually," he assured her. It would not be his finest hour, seducing the ice maiden, but he was confident he could win her over.
~*~
For nearly two weeks Donovan had played the part of the suave new salesperson at Nelson Creswell Motors. Because sales were so few, only three salespeople were kept on staff at a time, and he shared the privilege with Shane Matthews and Phillipe Ambrose. Shane had the all-American blonde hair, blue-eyed look sewn up. Phillipe was a Frenchman, through and through.
There were times when they all had a little too much time on their hands, and Donovan spent his idle time learning the layout of the buildings. He had gone over the blue prints and specs, but knowing the terrain on a visual basis was important. He made mental notes of where possible holding areas for the drugs might be, and speculated on how the drugs were brought in and distributed.
He hadn't been there long enough to strike up any deep and meaningful friendships; however, the two ladies in the office were most forthcoming with any gossip available. At this point he could tell anyone who might as just who was sleeping with whom, what office politics were favoring which employee, and that his objective, Taylor Kinney, was as unfriendly as he had thought she would be. Any attempt he had made to engage her in conversation was met with an immediate glare and an abrupt dismissal. He was at his wit's end when he made an unexpected discovery.
Shane had witnessed one of his failed attempts to talk to Taylor and commented that he might have better luck bumping into her at Confetti's. At the blank look he must have given Shane, he explained that Confetti's was a hyper-popular dance club that Taylor frequented Friday and Saturday nights. That news had completely floored him. He had observed her turning in early each of those nights for the past month, but according to Shane, he had seen her there many times. He happily shared that he had not recognized her at first, and they did not acknowledge each other's presence, but he was one hundred percent sure that it was her.
Donovan checked his watch as he slid behind the Porsche's wheel. He had been working a deal, but when it looked as though it was going to take forever to close, he tossed it to Phillipe, who was only too glad to split the commission with him. Donovan could care less, but pretended it was a hardship he would have to endure. He was just glad to get out of sales mode. He decided to forgo following Taylor and go back to his apartment. It had been some time since he had visited a dance club and he had a feeling he'd need his rest.
~*~
"What do you mean, no video feed?" Cody asked disbelievingly.
"I mean…no video feed. Audio will do," Donovan insisted.
"You're going into a loud, crowded nightclub…audio feed will be useless," Cody argued.
"You win. No audio either," Donovan stated as he opened the hotel door.
"Whoo…hot stuff," Monica commented heartily as she stepped through the doorway.
Donovan quirked a brow and offered her a hard glare before moving past her. "I'll check in with you in the morning."
Monica sighed as she flopped into the chair. "Another night staring at these four walls. Such a glamorous life."
"Tell me about it," Alex agreed. "At least Jake is seeing some action."
"Oh yeah. Hooking up with the transport company that delivers the vehicles to the dealership," Cody joined in. "Verrrry exciting."
"Exciting would be going to that dance club tonight with Mr. Oozes Sex Appeal," Alex whined.
"Damn…it would be, wouldn't it? I'd just like to watch…"
Cody held up his hand as Monica went to check the monitors. "Don't bother. Donovan ordered no feed."
"You've got to be kidding me!"
"I'm serious. I think he's afraid we'll find out what a lousy dancer he is," Cody speculated.
Alex laughed. "He's not going to dance. He's too stiff."
"He might be, but Ettore isn't." Monica grinned remembering the sight of longhaired Frank Donovan decked out in tight black jeans and a dark blue silk button down shirt. "The women in that club will fight each other for a chance to get near him."
"Let's just hope the one he's after will give him the time of day," Alex said as she picked up a magazine. "Because I'm more than ready to get on with this case."
"Patience, Alex."
"Shut up, Monica."
~*~
He arrived at the crowded dance club around ten o'clock that evening. Parking was a nightmare, but he finally found a place for his Porsche. So far, that car was the only thing he was going to miss about his current mission. He really wasn't thrilled about going undercover to begin with, but, as it happened, he had agreed with his superiors. Jake didn't fit Creswell's slick and sophisticated profile for his more visible employees; the man had never hired a woman salesperson, so that left either Cody or himself. It was not a difficult choice.
He glanced around the interior as he searched for Taylor, but he saw no trace of her. He smiled charmingly at the women who were obviously impressed with what they saw of him. If he weren't there on business he might find some enjoyment in their attention, but at this point, he just found it annoying.
He ordered bourbon straight up and settled himself down on a stool at the darkened end of the bar. The club contained two levels. The upper lever was open in the center so that the activity could be viewed easily from either level. There was one long bar located near the upper entrance; the three other sides were for mingling or dancing, whichever the patrons desired. The lower level contained a large dance floor with large dark blue glass panels. Lighted streaks of white ran throughout the floor, flashing to the beat of the music. Two large, curved bars were located at either end of the dance floor, and tables sat off at the other two sides. Strobing lights and confetti hung in streamers from the ceiling and walls, completing the effect.
He nursed his bourbon for nearly an hour while he scoured the interior waiting for Taylor to show. He was beginning to think Shane had been snorting the cocaine that the authorities believed was being smuggled through Creswell Motors. During the past hour, his attention had repeatedly been drawn to the other end of the bar. He had watched the comings and goings of the four people who sat there and had determined they were 'regulars' and that section of the bar was reserved for them. No one even dared to take their seats when they deserted the bar for the dance floor. Apparently, it was a given that it was their territory and if anyone ventured into it, the bartender simply moved them along quickly.
Three women and one man occupied the 'territory'. He watched in amusement as one of the women picked up the bottle of tequila that had been placed in front of them the moment they arrived. That was, apparently, another given; shot glasses lined the bar in front of them, as well as several saltshakers, and a large bowl of sliced limes. He watched as the woman laughed and poured out four shots. When she lifted her head from her task, he found her vaguely familiar, but could not quite place her. She licked her lips slightly as she picked up one of the saltshakers and, as if in salute, she raised the shaker in front of her and waited until the other three caught up with her. In unison, they licked a small area on their hands between their wrist and thumb before pouring salt on it. Together, they licked the salt from their hands, tossed back their shot of tequila, and followed it by sucking a piece of lime. He licked his bottom lip as he watched the woman's mouth return to a most delicious looking pout. Suddenly, he had never been so jealous of a piece of fruit before. It was then that the man next to her pulled her to her feet. Her ash blonde hair fluttered about her face as she headed off to the dance floor.
He shook his head and silently admonished himself. He needed to stay focused and watching some pretty piece of fluff was not going to help him accomplish what he was there for. Still, he couldn't stop his eyes from following her out onto the dance floor. Her sleeveless orange-red dress molded to her body from her chest down to mid-thigh. The neckline dipped just enough to show a slight hint of the top swell of her breasts. Unlike some of the women who littered the club, whose 'attributes' were barely covered, this woman showed some class. He nearly slid off his chair in complete surprise when she lifted her hair atop her head momentarily as she danced. How could he have been so blind?
Taylor Kinney. She had captivated him for the last hour. Without those dark thick-rimmed glasses of hers, and her hair loose around her shoulders, it was as if she had become a completely different person. He couldn't quite make out the color of her eyes, he was not nearly close enough to her, but he enjoyed the way they crinkled up when she laughed. It was one of the things he had noticed first when she sat down with her friends. Her laughter was genuine and it reached her eyes. It wasn't makeup that had transformed her, he noted easily. She was not heavily made up; as far as he could tell, she wore lipstick, a touch of blush, and a little mascara. He was completely amazed at the difference in her whole demeanor. She seemed friendly and approachable; she had not turned down one dance partner yet. In his estimation, he stood a better chance than most.
A seat opened at the bar closer to the 'territory' of the regulars. He moved quickly to it and waited for her to return. He would make his move then. Laughter preceded her as she unceremoniously hopped up onto the barstool. He leaned forward to get the bartender's attention and ordered another bourbon. Before pulling back, he glanced to his right, catching Taylor's eye. He smiled warmly and offered a slight wave in greeting.
Taylor rolled her eyes when she spied the newest sleaze that graced her every day life. She growled to herself and wondered why he couldn't show the same good judgment as Shane had and not acknowledge her at all. This place was her haven from that scourge of an existence she had to bear. Oh, good God! He's coming over here. Sonofabitch!
"Come va, Taylor," ["How are you, Taylor?"] he asked, touching her shoulder softly. She visibly recoiled, causing him to move back slightly. You're too anxious, Donovan. Ease up.
Taylor frowned as she looked up at him. She felt the various prods in her sides from her two girl friends. "What does that mean, Mister Sansone?" she asked. "I don't speak Italian."
"Perdonilo," he replied in Italian before correcting himself. "Forgive me. I asked how you are, Taylor," he responded warmly.
She sighed irritably. "I'm perfectly fine, and you?" She wondered if he could tell that she could care less how he was. What she did care about was when he would leave.
"I am fine, grazie." [Thank you.]
"Hey, Taylor! Ya gonna introduce your friend, or leave us poor deprived souls hangin'?"
Taylor grimaced as she turned toward Melanie. She prepared herself to have his name repeating in her mind for the rest of the evening. She was doomed. "Ettore Sansone, this is Melanie Hargrove and Tammy-Lynn Donaldson."
Playing his role to the hilt, he gently lifted each of the brunette's hands to his lips and softly kissed their knuckles. "Piacere di conoscerla." [Pleased to meet you.] His smile widened when they fairly melted off their seats. For all they knew he had just told them to go to hell, but the accent appealed to them, so they went with it.
Tammy-Lynn leaned close to Taylor and whispered in her ear. "He's to die for, Taylor. Where have you kept him hidden?"
Taylor shrugged her off and shook her head, pushing the irritating thought away. "And that," she added, pointing over Ettore's shoulder. "Is Devon Markinson."
"Hey there," Devon greeted, lifting his shot glass. "Another round, Taylor?"
She looked over at Ettore briefly. Ettore Sansone. Ettore Sansone. She wanted to scream; she could not shake that name from her mind. "Definitely," she nearly barked.
"Would you care for one," Melanie asked Ettore in her deep southern drawl.
He smiled and held up his glass. "Grazie, no." He watched in amusement when Taylor didn't wait for her friends. Instead she swallowed the tequila quickly, foregoing the salt and lime. He set his glass down in front of her and held out his hand. "Dance, Taylor?"
Taylor stared at his hand for a moment before looking up into his face. He was kidding, right? She opened her mouth to tell him to get the hell out of her club. If she wanted an intrusion from someone she worked with, she would march her ass back to the dealership right now. The words never came. She found herself mesmerized by the deep brown of his eyes. She had never seen eyes so dark before. He really was 'to die for' as Tammy-Lynn had described him. She had the uncontrollable urge to reach up and trace along his jaw, following the smooth line of his beard. It was the booze, she decided. She must have passed her limit.
"Ya snooze, ya lose," Tammy-Lynn called out, grabbing Ettore's hand and leading him onto the dance floor.
Frank groaned inwardly. It was bad enough he had to humiliate himself, but for the entirely wrong person. Actually, it didn't take him long to get into the rhythm of the music and the suggestive movements came quite naturally. Add to it that Tammy-Lynn practically had herself wrapped around him, and he found it fairly enjoyable. She was a very attractive girl, and what red-blooded male wouldn't enjoy her attention?
Devon and Melanie watched in amusement as Taylor seethed in silence. They were both well aware of Taylor's feelings regarding those she worked with, and yet it was apparent that she was a little more than upset that Tammy-Lynn had snatched up the man she so clearly did not want to have anything to do with.
As the music changed and another song began thumping throughout the club, Taylor downed another shot of tequila. Devon laughed good-naturedly as he reached out and took her and Melanie by the hand. "Come on, ladies. Let's show 'em how it's done."
Melanie laughed along with Devon, but Taylor was not amused. She kept her eyes on Tammy-Lynn and the more-than-sexy Ettore. Ettore Sansone. Ettore Sansone. Ettore Sansone. "GAWD!" she bellowed in irritation as her hand closed around Devon's while they moved through the crowd.
Devon was having a wild time, bumping and grinding with both Taylor and Melanie. He wasn't stupid; he could see the way Taylor's eyes followed Sansone and their friend Tammy-Lynn. He also hated seeing her like that. It was highly unusual when she took an interest in anyone except to dance with them. Tammy-Lynn would probably hate him for what he was about to do, but he knew she would get over it quickly. He swung around, bringing himself closer to the couple. Reaching out, he grasped Tammy-Lynn by the wrist, pulling her toward him. At the same time, he twirled Taylor around with his other arm until she was facing Sansone. He smiled wickedly when Taylor whipped her head around to glare at him. "Enjoy," he mouthed as he turned his attention back to Melanie and a decidedly unhappy Tammy-Lynn.
"Hey, no fair!" Tammy-Lynn griped.
"No fair was you snatching him out from under her. Besides, I'm jealous," Devon pouted playfully.
"Oh…well, in that case," Tammy-Lynn teased, falling into his arms as the trio headed back to their 'territory'.
Frank didn't miss a beat. He twirled Taylor into his arms and smiled down at her.
She released a defeated laugh. She was trapped. She could leave him standing on the dance floor, but she found herself pushing that idea aside. She was also enjoying his dancing. Unlike most men, he held her close as he moved in a Patrick- Swayze-Dirty-Dancing motion. Oh, she could deal with his lean, muscular body pressed against hers for a few minutes. It was nearly midnight; she would call it a night and go home early.
He dipped her back slightly. He brought his face close to hers, his cheek nearly touching hers and he whispered in her ear, " diami una probabilità." ["Give me a chance."] He closed his eyes as the subtle aroma of her perfume floated into his nostrils. His lips were so close to the soft flesh of her neck and it took all of his control to keep from tasting her.
Taylor pushed at his shoulders, forcing him to pull her upright. She shuddered with an unexpected delight when his beard tickled her skin. "What did you say?" she demanded. The dance, the music, the entire room had been forgotten as she stared into his fathomless dark eyes.
He took her hand in his and squeezed it softly. "Give me a chance, Taylor."
She frowned and pulled her hand from his. "A chance for what, Ettore?" She shook her head and turned from him as she began to pick her way through the crowded dance floor.
His fingers closed around her upper arm and he turned her gently to face him. "Get to know me before you make the decision that I'm trash. Give me a chance," he repeated.
Taylor threw her hands up in exasperation. What could he possible want from her? In her eyes, she was less than appealing. She had done her best to make sure she gave the attitude and appearance of someone that most men would not look twice at. Here he was, Adonis in black jeans, paying attention to her as though she was the most desirable creature on earth. It made little sense to her, and yet, he fascinated her. It was his eyes, she decided. His eyes held her captivated. Was it his touch? It was electric. No, it was his lips. She hated herself, but she wanted to taste their fullness just once. It was many things, and each one made her thoughts crazier than the last.
"Taylor?"
She shook her head as she approached him. "It's midnight," she yelled over the excited calls of the crowd.
"And that means?"
Taylor laughed and lifted a hand as the confetti fell from the ceiling and covered the dancers. She knew she would hate herself later for her actions, but she took one of the long streamers and slid it around his neck. Pulling him toward her, she stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his ear as she whispered, "You're getting your chance. Don't make me regret giving it to you."
…to be continued…