Authors: Ronica Black
Sergeant Ruiz was seated behind his desk, which was covered with neat stacks of files. Patricia Henderson sat across from him, wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back in her customary ponytail, a sharp contrast from the soft waves the night before. The strap of her shoulder holster pulled the shirt tight across her chest, showing off her ample breasts. She uncrossed her legs at seeing Erin and placed her booted feet firmly on the floor, rising from her chair to help her with the files she was carrying. Her eyes were bright and warm, a good sign considering what had transpired the night before. Erin breathed a little easier.
“Your hair looks great,” Patricia said in a raspy voice.
Erin knew the haircut and light color brought out the color of her eyes and the contours of her face. And she could see Patricia was noticing it as well.
She evaded the beckoning eyes and felt her cheeks flush at the attention of her beautiful colleague. Patricia crossed the room with pantherlike grace, the muscles moving under the tight-fitting T-shirt. Watching, Erin felt as if her mind had been given the key to a whole new world. The door had been unlocked and she was seeing what she had never noticed before—the allure of the female body, in particular Patricia’s.
“Mac?” Sergeant Ruiz was talking to her.
Erin struggled back from the new world into which she had drifted. “Yes?”
“You okay, kiddo?”
“I’m fine, sir.” She willed the blood to leave her cheeks and her breathing to return to normal. She felt dazed, as if she had woken from a trance.
She and Patricia took their seats in silence.
“The hair looks good, don’t you think so, Henderson?”
“Yes. Perfect,” Patricia said stoically.
“Okay, Henderson, I’ll start with you. How did last night go?”
Erin swallowed wrong at the question and coughed as she tried to regain her breath.
Patricia offered to get her some water.
“No, no I’m fine,” she said.
A slight smile. “Last night went well,” Patricia answered Ruiz, as if it had been strictly routine. “Mac and I talked a lot and I have a feel for where she’s at in all of this.”
“Good. So we’re ready to roll for Saturday night?”
“Not necessarily, sir.” Patricia maneuvered slightly in her seat. “I don’t think she’s ready.”
Erin, belittled at Patricia’s words said, “With all due respect sir, I feel I am ready.”
“Mac may believe she is, but I think we should wait until next weekend,” Patricia countered.
“Go on.” Ruiz said. This obviously wasn’t the news he wanted to hear.
“I don’t want to get too personal here, sir, but you can’t just give a woman a short haircut, dress her a certain way and throw her to the lions.” She eyed them both, stressing her point. “You can’t just snap your fingers and make a woman a lesbian. It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
Impatiently, Ruiz said, “No one’s asking her to
actually become a lesbian.
All she has to do is get Adams interested.” He paused a moment, steepling his hands. “Saturday is on. I don’t want another body showing up because you don’t think she can pull off the gay thing. A seduction is a seduction.”
Erin cleared her throat. “Look, I can put on a pretty good show. I’ve done it before and did a damn good job.”
Patricia shot her a sideways glance, her expression a mixture of fear, annoyance and something else. Protectiveness? “No one is questioning your competence, Mac,” she said stiffly. “But from what I saw last night, you’re just not ready, and it’s too dangerous. Adams would see right through it. I think you know that.”
Ruiz sighed. “So what needs to be done in order to—”
He stopped talking as Erin rose from her chair and walked seductively over to Patricia, locking eyes with her. Licking her lips, she straddled the baffled detective on her chair, slithering against her. With one fluid motion she aggressively grabbed Patricia’s face and kissed her deeply.
For a brief second, Patricia seemed to resist, but just as quickly she conceded and let Erin explore her mouth. All reserve melted away as Erin rode against her lap and sucked on her tongue. Patricia let out a muffled moan of sheer desire and lifted her hands up to Erin’s back, trying to pull her deeper.
But Erin withdrew. She had proved her point. Willing herself to maintain the control she was trying to show she had, she detached herself quickly from the other detective. Their lips smacked their objection as their mouths parted. As Erin climbed off, Patricia gazed up at her, eyes dark and smoldering, hungry for more. Erin licked her own lips; the taste of Patricia was hot and sweet. Hurriedly, she returned to her seat and crossed her legs, praying the throbbing she felt between them would soon stop.
She forced a smile at her shell-shocked sergeant. “As I said, sir. I’m ready. I guess we’ll have to ask Henderson whether I’m believable.”
Patricia’s chest rose and fell quickly. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and dark with excited blood. Erin felt her heart rage. Of course she was believable—she was truly attracted to Patricia. But if that much intensity was involved in kissing a woman, she knew she was doomed as far as the Adams assignment was concerned. All the same, she wasn’t about to go down without trying. She had never quit on an assignment and she wouldn’t start now.
“She’s good,” Patricia conceded, her voice strangled.
Ruiz adjusted his glasses and looked as if he was adjusting himself mentally as well. “That’s settled, then. Henderson, I’ll leave it to you to get things finalized for Saturday night. “
“I’m sorry, sir?” Patricia ran her fingers over the smooth surface of her lips in a gesture that seemed completely unconscious. Erin watched her, wanting to do the same. Her own lips were still tingling from the heated kiss.
“I’m suggesting that you and Mac get the hell out of here and get her ready for the weekend.”
“Yes, sir.” Patricia stood and grabbed some files. She seemed as anxious to escape as Erin was.
In silence, they walked the short distance to a larger room that held their desks, along with those of the numerous other homicide detectives. Erin’s desk sat in the center of the room. On it stood two lonely plastic soda bottles, one of them half full with a straw saluting up and out of the opening. A single pencil rested next to a stack of files and a faded white telephone.
She sank heavily into her squeaky chair. “I’m sorry about what happened back there…” God, she could still feel Patricia responding to her. What happened and what she’d felt were one and the same.
Patricia held up a silencing hand. “No need. You proved your point, Mac. Let it go.” She rested her hip against Erin’s desk and took her sunglasses from the front of her shirt. “We have a lot of work to do, and not much time to do it in.”
*
“Didn’t anyone tell you not to buy a black vehicle in Valle Luna?” Erin asked as she climbed into Patricia’s full-sized Chevy Blazer. “I burned my hand on the door handle.”
Patricia folded the large shade away from the windshield and tossed it in the backseat. She started the car and switched on the air. “Hot is hot. A hundred ten, a hundred fifteen degrees, it’s all hell to me. I got black because I like it.”
There was a trace of aggravation in her tone, and Erin eyed her carefully. “Are you still upset over what happened earlier?”
Patricia pulled out of the parking lot. Her expression was difficult to read behind her dark sunglasses. “No, not at all. Actually I’m glad you can perform in front of an audience. You’ll need to be able to handle a lot of attention when you’re with Adams.”
Erin caressed her sore hand and let Patricia’s words float around in her mind. She wasn’t concerned about Adams and her attention. Numerous other targets had lavished her with attention, attempting to get her into the sack. Gifts, flowers, diamonds. It wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. She glanced toward Patricia and wondered what kind of women the elusive detective liked, what it would take to get her attention. The thoughts were ridiculous, but she felt relaxed in the deep heat of the vehicle and allowed her mind the freedom to relive the kiss and to fantasize about Patricia and her blue eyes blazing with desire.
“Do you live alone?” Erin could see they were headed for Patricia’s house, although she wasn’t sure why. Maybe they needed to talk more about personal issues. That thought made her stomach jump. She hoped Patricia didn’t have a live-in girlfriend; the possibility made her feel uncomfortable and surprisingly jealous. She blushed, certain that what she was feeling was written all over her face.
“Yes, I live alone.” Patricia paused momentarily. “Actually, that’s not quite true.”
Erin’s heart sank and her stomach flipped. Why did this woman affect her so?
“I do share my home with another.” Patricia grinned as she spoke. “Come on in and you can meet him.”
“Him?” Mac asked as she climbed down from the truck.
Patricia was ahead of her, walking through her garage to the interior door. The house was in a nice neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. It wasn’t nearly as large as Erin’s, but it was big enough, with a trim front yard and well-kept rosebushes flanking the garage.
She followed Patricia inside and directly into the spacious kitchen. Deep red Spanish tile and oak cabinets gave the room a warm feeling and she instantly relaxed in her surroundings. The house was larger than she had expected, sitting deep into a spacious backyard. Adjoining the kitchen was a sitting room with overstuffed sofas and a moderate-size television.
“Mac,” Patricia called from a large living room in the center of the house. She was kneeling in front of a comfortable-looking tan leather sofa.
“What are you doing?” Erin walked toward her.
“This is Jack,” she said with a smile.
Nestled on the leather couch, a Jack Russell terrier slept peacefully, curled into a tight ball. Erin smiled involuntarily at the little dog. He had one brown ear that matched his collar, the rest of him being stark white.
“That is the cutest thing I think I’ve seen in long time,” she whispered, careful not to wake him. Mark despised animals, dogs and cats alike, and had forbidden them from the house. “Why doesn’t he wake up?” she asked with concern.
“Jack’s deaf.”
“He’s deaf?” Erin shook her head in disbelief. It had never occurred to her that an animal might be stricken by something she had always associated only with humans.
“He usually wakes up by feeling vibrations or by catching my scent.” Patricia patted the couch next to the sleeping dog and Jack jumped nearly out of his skin. Quickly, she sat down and comforted him, speaking softly as she rubbed and scratched his back. . “I know it’s ridiculous to talk to him when he can’t hear me, but I just can’t help myself.”
Jack stretched for a brief instant and gave a Snoopy-sounding yawn before he turned to assault Erin with attention.
“I don’t think it’s ridiculous. Not at all.” In fact, she was touched by the love and tenderness Patricia showed her dog.
Jack licked her palm and then, seeing his owner stand to leave the room, he jumped off the couch to follow the women into the kitchen. Patricia opened a cabinet and removed two glasses.
“Iced tea okay?” she offered as Jack shot out the small dog door in the connecting TV room, bounding into the backyard.
“Please.” Erin sat on a tall stool at the counter, watching her pour the tea.
As they sipped, Jack surged into the house like a rocket, carrying a small ball in his mouth. Erin set down her glass and threw the ball for him to retrieve several times.
“You’ve started something now,” Patricia warned laughingly. “You’ll have to end it or he’ll play all night long.”
“I wish I had that kind of energy.”
Jack was trotting toward her with the ball in his mouth when he suddenly stopped and dropped it, the hair on his back raising up. Growling, he faced the front door and a split second later the doorbell rang and he started barking. Patricia scooped him up as she opened the door.
A small cardboard box sat next to the potted plant at the entrance, and Erin heard a delivery truck start up and drive away. “How did he know someone was here?” she asked, amazed by the dog’s reactions.
“Probably the vibrations of the truck.” Patricia closed the door and made a hand signal at Jack, who wagged his tail and followed her into the kitchen, where she gave him a treat.
“What was that signal?” Erin asked.
“I trained him with hand signs.” Patricia placed the box on the kitchen counter and cut open the taped seams with a steak knife. After pulling back the cardboard flaps, she leafed through the contents and pulled out a paperback book, which she set on the counter.
“No kidding? That really works?”
“Sure does. He knows about thirty different signs.” She slid the book across the counter. It was
Deep
by Katherine Chandler.
Erin casually flipped the book over to read the back cover, wondering if it was any good.
“Katherine Chandler is a well-known lesbian fiction writer.” Patricia said.
“Oh I get it, more research for me, right?”
Patricia laughed. “In a manner of speaking. Erin McKenzie, you are now Katherine Chandler.”