High Energy, Joy, Dara [books to read this summer .txt] 📗

with a

mysterious little grin of his own.

"Wonderful!"

"Of course, I have to shuffle some funds around, free up some cash—you

understand. Come to think of it, I have some extra bonds coming due in a couple

of months—why don't you start scouting out a location in the meantime?"

"I'll do that!"

"Oh, one other thing, Xavier, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention my name in

connection with this project. I prefer to be a silent investor." The last thing

Tyber wanted was LaLeche using his name to hoodwink other investors into this

scam.

"I understand, Doctor." LaLeche winked at him, interpreting Tyber's remark in

his own way. Which was just as well, as long as it achieved his objective of

keeping LaLeche silent.

So now he could string LaLeche on a little longer. This "business" venture was

just the legitimate cover Zanita and he needed to stay in constant touch with

the man. Hopefully they wouldn't need to be in touch with him for too much

longer.

As Tyber made his way back to the house, he realized that if worse came to

worst, he could try to set up a sting operation with the phony investment scam,

although that could be a tricky business and he hated the idea of exposing

Zanita to the kind of danger it might entail. On the other hand, he wanted the

scum out of their lives A.S.A.P.

He wondered just how risky it would be, thinking he might eventually be forced

to call Sean in.

Zanita had come straight upstairs after dinner. She had one hell of a headache.

She immediately threw off her clothes, donning her thick flannel nightgown.

Proper clothes for the proper job.

Moistening a washcloth with ice-cold water, she draped it across her forehead

and flung herself prostrate onto Tyber's oyster bed. Zanita on the half-shell.

She grimaced.

Dinner had been a complete fiasco.

Blooey got into another fight with My-Maggy. This time they fought over the

sequence of the layered salad.

Auntie had proclaimed the escarole quiche marvelous but terribly rich, this last

said while pointedly staring at Mills.

Mills threatened to use her fork as a catapult for said quiche, aiming it

directly at Auntie when Auntie wasn't looking.

LaLeche, lapping up Blooey's cooking and casting the occasional lecherous glance

at her chest, continued dropping pearls of spiritual wisdom, somehow managing to

look like the cat who had swallowed the Tyber canary.

Hambone took turns wailing piteously during the meal at the lack of tidbits

forthcoming and growling at LaLeche's ankles. At least the cat was a good judge

of character.

Throughout it all, Tyber sat in stony silence while being mercilessly grilled by

Auntie on aspects of his virile physique.

No wonder her head was splitting.

She supposed she should feel bad at deserting Tyber to their guests, but her

head was pounding too loudly for her to care. Besides, she needed to get rid of

this headache to make room for another one. She was going to confront Tyber

tonight with his attitude adjustment.

The door to the bedroom flew open—and slammed shut.

Zanita twitched, then moaned as the reverberations hit her skull. Tyber's words

sliced across her brow.

"Thank you very much for leaving me with that barracuda, Zanita."

"LaLeche?" came the muffled voice from under the washcloth.

"No. Your aunt."

She could hear him stomping across the floor toward the bed. Zanita lifted one

corner of the cloth to peer surreptitiously at him. He was unbuttoning his shirt

with short, angry movements of his fingers. When he finished, he dragged it off,

wadded it into a ball, throwing it in the general direction of the closet

hamper. It bounced off the lid, puddling on the floor. Tyber, who normally was

the neatest of men, uncharacteristically ignored it.

He turned back to her; she quickly lowered the cloth to play dead again.

"Are you sure that woman is a relative of—what the hell is that draped across

your head?"

"A cloth."

"Yes, but why?"

"I have a headache, Einstein."

She felt the bed dip with his weight. "Do you feel sick?"

His tone had instantly gone from irritation to concern. It was precisely

this—this caring behavior that was at the root of her headache in the first

place!

Not receiving a response, Tyber lifted the washcloth from her face only to be

confronted with a glaring visage.

"Put that back!"

"I just wanted to see if you were all right."

He was caring about her again! She began to smolder. In her mind's eye, she

could see smoke fuming all around her. "I told you I have a headache!"

"Then why don't you take some aspirin like most people do?"

"Because I prefer the medicine cloth. Now give me that." She tried to rip the

cloth out of his hands; he wouldn't let go.

"I've never heard a doctor say take two cloths and call me in the morning. You

are the crankiest person when you don't feel well. I'll get you some aspirin."

He started to get up; Zanita clamped her hand on his arm like a vise. "You get

off this bed, mister, and it'll be the last aspirin you ever get."

The idea of this petite woman physically threatening him over a wet rag had its

humorous side. Tyber really wanted to laugh, but relationship survival being

foremost in his mind, he settled for a confused, hurt expression. "I'm sorry,

baby." He handed her back the cloth.

Zanita felt instantly contrite. "Forget about it, Tyber." She flung the cloth

over the aquarium.

"You think the fish have a headache now?" A dimple popped into his cheek.

"Very funny."

"Here, let me massage your headache away." He scooted back against the pillows,

placing her head on his lap. His two forefingers began massaging her temples on

either side. It felt good. Real good.

Zanita tried to talk herself out of turning her head into the silky warmth of

his bare chest. Or rubbing the curve of her cheek against his heated velvet

skin. The plane of his upper torso was lightly fuzzed with gold-tipped hair and

rock hard.

The man was built like a brick! He could probably take a punch. Oh, well. She

relaxed against his lap. That left trying to reason with him.

Before she had a chance, Tyber broached his own subject.

"I had a little talk with LaLeche during our tour this afternoon."

Zanita closed her eyes under his soothing ministrations. "Did you find out

anything we can use?"

"Not exactly. He wants to open up a center for—for—" Tyber realized LaLeche