Hot Property (18 page)

“Good work. I’ve got plastic bags in my jacket.”

“Hurry. I’ve got the darned hair clutched between my fingers, and I’m afraid I’ll lose it.”

“This way.” They couldn’t very well stand out in the open to bag evidence they were collecting illegally. The garden would provide them with some cover.

Behind a large arbor of wisteria, Michael transferred the single hair into a plastic bag, sealed it, and marked it with a permanent marker.

“You came prepared,” Joe said. “Want me to try for the champagne glass? He’s bound to put it down at some point, unless he’s planning to pilfer it.”

Michael couldn’t help smiling as he pocketed the plastic bag. “Yeah, go for the glass. You’re getting into
this cloak-and-dagger stuff. Maybe you ought to apply for some undercover work.”

“As long as I could get away with not wearing a tie.” Joe strode off, intent on his mission. Michael took another breath, thinking maybe he’d stay out there, away from the insincere conversation and the slightly inebriated laughter. Most of the guys were there for the free food and booze. Captain Patterson was called Little Patton behind his back and hadn’t endeared himself to many of his underlings.

Michael spotted a wisp of green cloth from the corner of his eye. He turned and saw Wendy walking the little dog on a leash. She had her back to him, tapping her foot while waiting for the dog to find a spot he liked. Michael took the opportunity to drink in the sight of her long neck, her bare, slender arms, and the way her dress cupped under her shapely bottom just slightly. Even the small slice of ankle showing at her hem was enticing.

She turned and caught him staring. He decided to brazen it out. “Wendy,” he called, waving. “I’d like a word with you.” This was as good a place as any to talk to her. At least they could speak without being overheard.

She nodded, then pointed toward a honeysuckle-encrusted gazebo. “I only have a minute.” She scooped up the rodent-sized dog and led the way to the gazebo. He followed, his gaze riveted on her gently swaying hips and the way the shimmery dress draped around her legs.

They settled on separate benches in the gazebo.
The dog hopped off Wendy’s lap and started to sniff all around, content for the moment to be ignored.

“The party is … great,” Michael began, lamely, he thought. “You do good work.”

“Thank you. I’ve met a couple of potential new clients. But I’m sure you don’t want to talk about my work.”

“No.”

“Actually, I’m glad you’re still speaking to me. I haven’t been the most gracious … lover.”

His heart beat faster at her use of that word, at the reminder of what they’d shared and what they should—must—put behind them.

“The truth is, I knew it was just a fling for you, so I—”

“How did you know that?” he broke in.

She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Seems to me you said as much. Anyway, you’ll be going away soon. What else could it be but a fling?”

“Whether I’m going away or not is debatable at this point.” He had considered withdrawing his application. Maybe he wasn’t on the fast track in Dallas, but he enjoyed his work most of the time. He liked Joe, and he could work for worse men than Captain Rogers. Who knew what kind of people he’d have to put up with in Washington?

Then there was the snow and ice. He’d never shoveled a sidewalk in his life, and he wasn’t keen on learning how.

But he couldn’t tell Wendy he wasn’t moving away after all, not until he was positive. He didn’t want to
give her the idea that
she
was the reason he wanted to stay.

“You’ll do what you have to do, I’m sure,” she said. But did he detect a note of hope in her voice? Did she really care whether he stayed or went? He’d been under the impression she didn’t. “Have you got any new leads?” she asked.

He nodded. “I don’t know whether it’s good or bad for you, but I’m 99 percent sure James Batliner is involved.”

Wendy closed her eyes, as if absorbing pain. “Do you think he went out with me just so he could hack into my computer?”

Michael shook his head. “I find that highly difficult to believe.” In this low light he couldn’t tell, but he thought she might be blushing. “The prosecutor will claim you two were in it together.”

She sighed. “I can’t seem to win. You finally corral another suspect and it only makes my situation worse.”

“Your lawyer can put a favorable slant on things, I’m sure. He’s good at that.”

“Is that all you wanted? ’Cause I really need to get back—”

“No. I want to talk to you about your father.”

She sighed again. “You found out about him.”

“Your pal James spilled the beans,” Michael said softly, suddenly feeling sorry for her. It must have been tough growing up with a father like that. Whatever her reasons for lying to him, he wanted to hear them. “It wasn’t very gentlemanly of him. He was deliberately
trying to cast guilt on you, which only made me suspect him more.”

Wendy gnawed on her lower lip, which was what she did when she was nervous, he’d discovered. “I wanted to tell you,” she said. “I didn’t like lying. But it just looks so bad, me being the daughter of a habitual criminal. And I knew that once you found out, you’d be honor bound to reveal the truth. You would never lie for me.”

“You’re wrong. I would lie for you. Or, at least, I might not tell the whole truth.”

She couldn’t have looked more surprised if he’d announced he intended to strip naked and dance on the mayor’s roof.

“I wouldn’t lie about facts pertinent to the case, but in this instance, your family history has no bearing on the investigation. I see no reason to mention it in my report.”

“Oh, Michael, thank you!” Before he knew what was happening, she’d launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug he was sure she meant to be wholly asexual. Unfortunately, his body didn’t know the difference. He’d been wondering what it would feel like to press her curves, so blatantly displayed in that wisp of a dress, against him. Now he knew. And she couldn’t help but notice what she did to him. Talk about blatant displays.

She pulled back a fraction to look into his eyes, and what he saw on her face was anything but asexual. “I’m sorry, Michael. I’m so sorry for leaving you when you were in the shower. I didn’t do it to be mean. I
was just scared and running from something that was about to overwhelm me,” she said, the words rushing out in a jumble, “and I didn’t know how I’d be able to handle it when you walked away, so I did it first.”

He ran his hands up and down the whisper-soft fabric of her dress, then deliberately tangled his finger in her fiery hair. “You think too much.”

That first touch of lips to lips was incredibly sweet, like a memory of some long-ago summer, eating homemade ice cream and watching fireworks on the Fourth of July, a good, good feeling of something so pleasurable, it almost hurts.

Then sweet gave way to a powerful, ripping hunger. Their breaths came fast as he plundered her mouth with his tongue and squeezed her bottom with both hands. Yes, he was remembering—the feel of her sweat-soaked limbs entwined with his in impossible configurations as they’d sought release in a half-dozen frantic positions.

“Oh, Michael.” She said his name on a desperate groan. “I want you so bad even though I know it’s wrong—”

He cut her off with a kiss. “It’s not wrong. How could this be wrong? I want to be inside you.”

“Here? What if someone sees us?”

“They won’t,” he said with more confidence than was warranted, because he was crazy with wanting her and he would do or say anything to have her. The Wendy Thayer Effect was now a proven fact. He’d never been so out of control in his life, and it scared the hell out of him. But it didn’t scare him enough to
make him stop. He pulled her dress up so he could feel the bare skin of her thighs and the silk of her panties. He groaned when he realized she wasn’t wearing pantyhose. Just a scrap of silk separated him from the sweet recesses he so desired.

She laughed nervously, but the laughter turned into a moan as he slid his hand inside her panties to cup her bare bottom. He dipped his head under her chin to flick his tongue over the tops of her breasts. She rewarded him with a guttural sound that he wouldn’t have believed could come from such a petite woman.

“All right,” she said. “You win. But you’re going to explain this—oh, yessss!—to the mayor if we get caught.”

“Believe me, it’s not going to last that long.” He reached for his belt, unfastening it with one yank. Wendy took over from there, unfastening and unzipping his trousers. In moments she had freed him from the confines of his clothing. She grasped his arousal, and it was his turn to groan. He wanted to explode right then and there.

“It’s now or never, sweets.” He lifted her dress higher and bunched it around her waist, then slid her panties down to her knees.

“Can we do this standing up?” she asked, though she didn’t resist at all when he bent his knees and brought her closer, preparing to enter paradise.

“I could do it on my head if that’s what it took,” he said, lifting her slightly, then impaling her.

Sweet heaven, he’d never felt anything like Wendy
all around him in their own garden of delights, the scent of honeysuckle heavy on the air, the buzz of insects serenading their dance of passion.

“Oh, Michael, I know this isn’t the right time to tell you this, but I love you. I must. I would never act this crazy with someone I didn’t love.”

He stilled for just a moment and reveled in those words. He’d never imagined a woman’s love could make him feel like such a … such a man.

“See, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Shh,” he said, moving inside her by pulling her against him with the most subtle of motions. He almost said it back. But he knew from experience that making a promise he couldn’t keep was worse than keeping silent.

They spoke no more as their passions took complete control of them. Michael held back, prolonging their coupling longer than he’d predicted. But he’d be damned if he would take his pleasure before she’d enjoyed hers. And he knew from their night together that she would. He only hoped she could keep from screaming this time, or a hundred cops would come running to see who was being murdered.

When she reached her climax, he watched her face, enthralled at the rapture he saw there. Then she pressed her face into his shoulder and muffled her cries of ecstasy. His own peak of pleasure followed soon after. Only after he’d made one final thrust and released himself inside her did he realize they’d done it again. Like a couple of ignorant, horny teenagers, they’d forgotten to use any form of birth control.

He didn’t care. He wanted her to bear his children, he thought with a rush of understanding. Why had he fought the feelings? So, he’d known her for less than a week. That was long enough. Screw the FBI. He’d stay in Dallas and make babies with Wendy.

He was about to tell her just that when he heard his name over the strains of country music coming from the patio, riding on the wind in a hoarse whisper. “Tagg? Hey, Tagg, where’d you go?”

If someone had been timing him and Wendy, they’d have won a world speed record in clothes-straightening. “That’s my partner. Don’t leave the party without me.” He gave her one final kiss and left her in the gazebo to compose herself before facing the party guests.

Wendy scurried upstairs and deposited Misha in the Munns’ bedroom. He gave her a knowing look.

“Not a word to anyone, now,” she admonished him before closing the door.

She was out of her mind to make love to Michael in the gazebo of the mayor’s house. If they’d gotten caught, she would have lost every shred of credibility she’d possessed. But they hadn’t gotten caught. Now she felt deliciously optimistic about her future. James, the creep, was involved in the crimes she’d been accused of. Once subjected to Michael’s interrogation, James would sing like a canary on speed. Mr. Neff would be caught. And Michael had said his appointment to the FBI wasn’t a sure thing.

Not that she would want him to be turned down, if that’s the job he really wanted. But if his application was rejected, it wouldn’t be all bad.

She took a quick tour around the downstairs. They
were getting low on plates, and guests were still arriving. She breezed into the kitchen, saw that the dishwasher was almost through its cycle, and nodded with satisfaction.

Alice came in right behind her. “Oh, Wendy, there you are. Misha must have taken you on some walk.”

“Sniffed every blade of grass,” Wendy said, hoping she wasn’t blushing.

“Is everything going okay?”

“Fine.” She and the head caterer both nodded.

“Have you checked the candles out front?”

Ah. She’d been caught neglecting her duties. “I’ll go right now.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I want you to meet the guest of honor, Captain Walt Patterson.” Alice took Wendy’s arm and dragged her out of the kitchen. “Now, where did I see him? Oh, there, by the bar.”

Wendy could see a small, wiry man standing at the bar, chatting up the bartender as he mixed a drink. Darn, she didn’t have her business cards with her. Well, if he was at all interested, she could slip him one later.

“Captain Patterson?” Alice said. “I’d like you to meet the young lady responsible for planning and carrying out your party. Wendy Thayer.”

The man turned. And Wendy found herself staring into the faded blue eyes of Barnie Neff. The gold tooth was gone, replaced by a good pair of dentures. The glasses were different, and he wore a toupee. But she wasn’t in any doubt at all.

To his credit, he showed no surprise, no inappropriate
reaction at all. Just a pleasant smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Miss Thayer.” Wendy just stood there frozen as he shook her hand.

What should she do? My God, Mr. Neff was in the police department, a captain respected and revered by everyone! If she suddenly started shouting and pointing to him, accusing him of being a criminal, they would lock her away in an insane asylum.

She expected he knew this, as he didn’t seem to be even slightly uncomfortable.

“Very nice party,” Patterson said. Alice wandered away, secure that she’d done her duties as a hostess and that a friendly conversation was under way. “I’m sure Dallas’s elite will miss you when you’re gone.”