Authors: Tamara Larson
Walking into his apartment,
Duncan
fended off
Hannibal
’s enthusiastic greeting and immediately headed over to the balcony. The dog followed, looking up at him adoringly and he leaned down to pet the dog’s curly silver hide. Man and dog stepped out onto the large patio overlooking the city and harbor. The rain had stopped finally, and
Duncan
looked his fill at the city he had come to love.
Jessie is out there somewhere,
Duncan
thought to himself, and wondered if she was thinking of him. He tried to come up with some excuse to see her again, but drew a blank. He’d been out of the dating scene for so long that he didn’t really know how to proceed. How did a guy approach a strange woman without seeming like a stalker or a pervert? He’d groped her shamelessly already. Convincing her that his intentions were somewhat honorable was going to be difficult.
Duncan
’s thoughts turned back to Theresa. He knew she needed to be found, but a small part of him—the rebel that had left his promising future as an executive in their family business behind to follow his dream of becoming a cop—admitted that he admired his missing sister, just a little bit, for asserting herself like this and getting out from under grandmother’s control.
Mostly, he was angry and very afraid that something terrible would happen to her on the streets, but there was still that niggling sense of regret that he’d be an instrument for clipping his sister’s wings. He never thought he’d see the day when he’d be his grandmother’s ally in a scheme to control anyone, and yet here he was, waiting impatiently for his cell phone to ring, so he could put Theresa back in her cage.
Chapter
5
Jessie needed a break. She’d been unloading boxes for the past three hours, and couldn’t remember where she’d put anything. Even the alphabet was beyond her right now. Her thoughts were that far away. Well, actually only a few feet away. Specifically, they were centered on the chair where she’d sat with the Detective that morning. She kept picturing the look in his eyes as he’d leaned down to kiss her neck, and the way his hands had felt in her hair. She wondered what would have happened if Clay hadn’t come in. Would she have come to her senses on her own, or would she have gotten up to lock the door at some point? Or more likely, would the detective have grown disgusted when he realized just how innocent she was?
Clay was no help at all. He’d found the Victorian erotica book she’d stashed in the crevice between the arm of the chair and the cushion, and began to read out passages to her between customers. He claimed it was research for her upcoming deflowering. Hearing about Lady Pearl and her amorous adventures with the butler, the gardener, and the burly town blacksmith had only contributed to her overheated condition. Finally, she’d bribed Clay to stop reading by promising to buy him a Chocolate Brownie Frappacino. Clay was sadly addicted to the Starbucks treat, so he stopped. Instead, he promptly took out a pink highlighter and began underlining sections he thought she should later memorize and put into practice.
“Clay,” she said, wiping her dusty hands on a cloth she kept under the desk. “It’s stopped raining, so I’m going to take a little walk down to Starbucks. Do you want anything with your Frap? A muffin or something?” She tried uselessly to brush some of the dust off her grimy skirt as she waited for him to answer. Clay looked up from where he’d been devouring the adventures of
Pearl
, and set down the highlighter for a moment to think.
“No, I’m watching my girlish figure,” he said, and puffed out his washboard abs until he looked like he a paunch. “The Grande Frap should be enough to give me a sugar high. But you should buy some condoms while you’re out. You need to be prepared.” He pointed the highlighter at her.
Jess laughed, shaking her head as she headed for the door. She shrugged on her jean jacket and called over her shoulder. “I’ll be back in a half hour. I’m taking that book out of your salary, by the way.”
“Oooh. Fifty cents. It’ll be worth it if we can finally get you laid, missy.”
Jessie was still smiling when she reached the street. She knew exactly how lucky she was to have Clay. Not only was he fun to have around, he also knew more about running a business than she did. They’d been close friends since being paired together as lab partners in an introductory psych class eight years ago, and Jessie had thought of him immediately when she’d decided to open the shop. She’d lured him away from his management position at one of the overpriced clothing boutiques on Robson by matching his salary, and promising to never make him work weekends or after 10 PM. He’d enthusiastically agreed and they’d formed a partnership of sorts.
West Hastings
was crowded, as usual. Jessie found herself scanning the crowd for one particular blond head, but there wasn’t any sign of Theresa. Jessie hated to think of her wandering around, alone on the streets, and wondered what would make Theresa choose to live that way. Many of the street kids were there because they were alone, or escaping a situation that was unbearable. But if the detective was looking for Theresa, obviously someone cared what happened to her. Hopefully, Jessie thought, Theresa will come back to the store soon, and the Detective can get her back where she belongs.
It was still overcast, but the sun filtered through weakly, hinting at a real appearance later that day. When the weather was good like this the residents of downtown milled about, crossing the street in herds and gathering to chat in crowds of two and three. Hot dog vendors on the corners filled the air with the mouth-watering aroma of cooking meat and Jessie felt her stomach rumble in response. She hadn’t eaten since her bagel with Jamie that morning.
Jessie ducked into the corner coffee shop and ordered herself a mocha and a giant chocolate chip muffin. She wanted to sit down outside and people watch for a few minutes before getting Clay’s Frappucino. She needed to relax and think about what had happened this morning. Reaching into the pocket of her skirt for some change, she felt the smooth edges of the detective’s card against her fingers. She took it out and looked at it while waiting for her order. It would be so easy to finish what they’d started that morning. Just one phone call, and she could stop wondering what it would be like to be truly intimate with another person. Then, she could get on with her life and stop worrying that there was something wrong with her.
Jessie collected her order from the tattooed barista and grabbed a table outside. There were several other people sitting at the tiny, wobbly tables, enjoying the unexpectedly mild weather. At the table closest to her, an Asian youth and his tiny teenage girlfriend sat close together, holding hands and mumbling earnestly, occasionally pausing to look tenderly into each other’s eyes. Next to them, an ancient couple sat silently, sharing the paper, and drinking espresso.
Couples surround me, Jessie thought, shaking her head and picking at her muffin. Her awkwardness around men had made her feel like an outsider most of her life, but lately it had become almost unbearable. Everywhere she went, she saw people connecting and building relationships, and yet she seemed to be excluded from that. It was like she was different from everyone else.
Sometimes she wondered if Clay had the right idea. Maybe all she needed to do was get out there and connect with someone, anyone, on any level. But the thought of a one-night stand with an anonymous stranger didn’t appeal to her at all. She’d just laughed and shrugged off the idea as one of Clay’s crazy projects, until Detective Reinhold had entered her store, and her life.
It wasn’t just that he was achingly attractive, though that certainly did contribute to her enthusiastic response to his caresses this afternoon. There was something about him that put her at ease in a way that she had never experienced before. After a few minutes in his presence she’d actually been able to relax and hold up her end of the conversation without babbling on about the weather or some irrelevant childhood experience. That was remarkable, and Jessie couldn’t bear to think of never seeing him again.
On some level, she was certain that an actual relationship with the handsome detective was out of the question. He was way out of her league for that, but he might be the perfect person to make love to for the first time. She wasn’t sure what exactly made a good lover, but she thought like anything else, practice makes perfect. Undoubtedly, a man as good-looking and exciting as the detective was very experienced.
According to Jamie, who knew a lot more about this than she did, a good lover was also considerate and generous. Jessie didn’t know the detective well enough to say if he met these requirements or not, but she could tell from the gentle way he’d touched her that he was at least interested in giving her pleasure. For a moment, she closed her eyes, and remembered the way he’d brushed his fingertips across the back of her knees. Yup, definitely interested in giving her pleasure.
Jessie also suspected from his behavior this morning that he might actually have a sense of humor. Add in the fact that she could actually talk to him and that he seemed to find her desirable, and he was the perfect candidate for being her first lover. Could she really let this opportunity pass her by and live with herself? How often did sexy, kind, sweet, funny men come along anyway? Not very often, or at least she didn’t think so. Jamie and Clay were both veterans of the singles scene, and they never seemed to find even one that wasn’t, deranged, attached, or on the rebound.
Jessie looked around and spotted a rare pay phone in an alcove by the entrance. Should she be wild and crazy and go for it, or wait and see if he contacted her? The thought of calling him terrified her, but waiting for him to make the first move seemed the worse of two tortures. What if he forgot about her?
With a fluttery feeling in her stomach, Jessie approached the phone. She set her purchases on a nearby table and fished a quarter out of her pocket. With a shaking hand, she put the quarter in the slot and dialed his number from the card. She held her breath and waited. The ring echoed over the line…once…twice…three times, and then she heard his voice.
“Reinhold,” he said gruffly. He sounded slightly annoyed.
Jessie nearly hung up the phone. This is crazy, she thought to herself, this isn’t high school. I should be able to talk to a man without freaking out like this. She flapped her free hand in indecision while several seconds passed.
“Hello…”
Duncan
said impatiently. “If this is an obscene phone call, buddy, you need to work on your delivery.” The last few words sounded distant, like he was about to hang up.
“Detective?” Jessie finally managed to say.
“Yeah?”
“Sorry, I dropped the phone. This is Jessica Martin. We met this morning. At the bookstore?” Of course he knows who I am, she thought, we were making out just a few hours ago. Surely, that doesn’t happen to him several times a day. Jessie desperately wished she could take this phone call back.
“Jessica, I’m glad you called,” he said in that deep rasp she remembered from their encounter that morning. She felt a tingle go up her spine at the warmth in his tone. “Did Theresa come back? Can you somehow keep her busy until I get there?” He asked.
Of course that’s why he sounded glad to hear from her, she thought. He thinks I’ve got news about Theresa. “Uh…No. Actually, Detective, I haven’t seen Theresa. I was just wondering if you might have some more questions for me. We kind of got interrupted this morning.” Oh my God! Jessie thought to herself, that is so lame. He is going to hang up. He should hang up. I sound completely desperate and insane.
The pause on the other end became too long and unbearable for Jessie. “Because, if you want, I could answer them now or perhaps later, when you’re not so busy. You’ve probably got a lot to do, tracking down runaways and saving the world and all.” Jessie’s voice rushed at the end, and she was tempted to just walk away. Instead, she pressed her forehead to the phone box, and thumped it gently a few times.
“No, no, I’m not too busy. I’m just surprised you called,”
Duncan
said. Jessie heard something in the background. It sounded like voices. Was he with someone right now? She imagined a tall, lanky blond straight out of the
Victoria
’s Secret catalogue, probably giving him a sponge bath. Suddenly, she felt like being sick.
“Listen,” he said, “My dog is taking me for a walk in
Stanley
Park
right now, and I don’t have my notepad or anything with me. But I’d love to meet with you sometime. How about over dinner? I’d be glad to take you out somewhere really nice. Or…” His voice trailed off and there was an uncomfortable silence.
“Or what?” Jessie asked, praying that he wasn’t trying to come up with an excuse not to see her.
“This is probably a stupid idea, but why don’t I make dinner for you?”
Jessie breathed a huge sigh of relief. She hadn’t imagined the connection between them. He actually sounded a bit nervous. “Why would that be a stupid idea?” she asked, too thrilled to be seeing him again to think about the details.
“Well, you don’t know me very well. I could be a crazed serial killer for all you know. Though I can tell you that serial killers rarely live in high-rise apartments—too difficult to hide the bodies, not to mention the smell.”
“Detective, I wasn’t worried about meeting you at your apartment until you said that. I think I’m going to hang up now.”