The Cop and the Chorus Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

Tornado.
    A tentative knock sounded at the suite’s front door. Flynn slammed the refrigerator shut.
    â€œWill you see who that is, sugar?” Dixie called from the other room. “I can’t find my shirt!”
    The thought of a topless Dixie answering the door sent Flynn hurrying to greet the visitor himself.
    â€œWho is it?” he growled through the door.
    â€œMaurice,” squeaked a terrified voice. “Is Miss Davis available?”
    Flynn opened the door and stepped back to permit the concierge to enter. He was a panic-stricken little fellow in a black suit who scuttled instead of walked, and he wrung his hands as he rushed into the suite.
    â€œOh, Miss Dixie, I’m terribly— Oh! Where is Miss Davis?”
    â€œGetting changed,” Flynn said shortly.
    â€œWho are you?”
    Flynn came up with a lie after a second’s pause. “Her bodyguard.”
    That was a logical explanation to the concierge. “I see. Is Miss Davis all right?”
    â€œI’ll be out in a minute, Maurice!” she caroled from the bedroom.
    Pinpointing her location, Maurice forgot about Flynn and hurried to the bedroom door. “Oh, Miss Davis, I’m terribly sorry the Honeymoon Suite isn’t ready yet. We weren’t expecting you for several more hours and—”
    â€œCool your tamales, Maurice.”
    The bedroom door opened, and another woman walked out into the suite.
    She was even prettier than Dixie Davis—tall and slim, with laughing blue eyes and a wide, happy mouth. But she wasn’t caked with makeup or dressed like a ride at Disneyland. Gone was the flamboyant showgirl. In her place arrived a fresh-faced young woman with an eye-popping figure and a sweet smile. Barefoot and wearing a pair of snug, faded jeans and a man’s plain white T-shirt that was loose everywhere but across her generous breasts, she looked delectable and innocently young.
    Her hair was blond and cut short in a face-framing pixie style that accentuated the sharpness of her chin and nose.
    From one slender hand dangled an enormous blond wig.
    Flynn blinked and realized the woman was Dixie Davis—but without her trademark haystack of hair, the gaudy clothes and the hooker’s makeup. She tossed her wig onto the sofa beside her hat.
    Flynn was speechless. Her transformation was amazing.
    â€œNow, Maurice,” she soothed, curling her arm around the concierge’s trembling one. “Don’t worry about a thing. I just came up with a plan to surprise Joey.”
    â€œA—a surprise?”
    â€œPrecisely. I hope I can count on you to help?”
    â€œWell, I—I— It won’t get me—or the hotel—into any trouble, will it?”
    â€œOf course not!” She laughed sweetly. “Would I toss you into the pigpen, Maurice?”
    â€œNot you, Miss Davis, but Mr. Torrano is—”
    â€œJust leave Joey to me, Maurice.” She patted his arm placatingly.
    â€œWill you be moving to the Honeymoon Suite?” the concierge asked, still a little nervous.
    Dixie bit her lip as if to hold back a flirtatious smile and shook her head. “Not yet. I’d like to stay in this suite without Joey knowing I’m here. For just a couple of days, you understand.”
    A smile broke across the concierge’s perspiring face. “Oh, of course, Miss Davis!”
    â€œYou’ll keep an eye peeped for Joey, right? I, er, don’t want his surprise spoiled.”
    â€œI’ll alert security immediately.” The little man bent forward and bestowed a kiss on Dixie’s hand. “You can count on the Plaza, Miss Davis.”
    A dimple popped on her cheek as she smiled. “That’s wonderful, Maurice.”
    She ushered him to the door of the suite. “Now, don’t worry about a thing. I’ll be out of your hair quicker than an armadillo out of a sausage grinder, I promise!”
    â€œYou can stay as long as you