He stood, dragging his hand through his hair. “And I’d
appreciate your advice on how to handle the information about Jimmie Forrester.
I need more background on him. You’re the best researcher I know. Plus, I still
don’t have a clue what happened the other night. Jimmie didn’t hit me, and I
sure as hell didn’t hit him, so who did? And why?”
Rising, she shrugged. Despite his apology and adorable gift,
she was reluctant to jump back into her role as assistant investigator.
“You’re usually the wordy one. Say something.”
“You’re going to tell me about your record, right? The reason
behind your suspension?”
Looking only half as reluctant as she expected, he nodded.
“An accomplice hit you both,” she said easily, as that seemed
obvious to her.
“Accomplice to what? A purse snatching? That isn’t a two-man
job. Even if it was, why would Jimmie’s own partner beat him up?”
“Maybe he agreed, so you could be framed for the assault. Maybe
the partner double-crossed him, and you were a convenient fall guy for
everything.” She angled her head as she considered. “There could have been
something extraordinarily valuable in the purse.”
“Like money or jewelry?”
“Or a top secret microchip. The thieves could be spies.”
“
Jimmie?
No way. He’s small-time,
and he doesn’t have the brains for spying or the frame-up of a cop.”
“Then we’ll have to find out who does.” She scooped up the cat,
who’d finished eating and was staring at them and looking annoyed again. “I’ll
set up his litter box in the bathroom, you put on the coffee. Before we go
forward, I’m gonna need a short history lesson.”
* * *
“T
HREE
YEARS
AGO
I
WAS
working with Homicide on a murder case,” Devin began, leaning heavily
on the balcony’s iron railing.
He and Calla had moved outside—a risk in itself, as the patio
was barely large enough for two people to stand on without touching toes. But
the night was unexpectedly warm, and he could use the air and space to tell her
about the painful past he never seemed able to put behind him.
“A guy had been stabbed in a conference room at the Marriott
Marquis. A business exec in town for an accounting conference found him when she
arrived to set up for her presentation. She ran screaming through the hotel. At
least twenty accountants trampled the crime scene before a security guard was
found. Blood tracked everywhere. Hysterical tourists. It was a big, damn
mess.
“By the time our techs examined all the prints, blood splatter
and other evidence, there was nothing to link the dead guy to his killer.”
“Smart bad guy. Leave the body in a busy place where it would
be discovered unexpectedly. Escape in a crowd of convention goers, random
tourists and hotel guests.” She made a swirling motion with her hands.
“Confusion ensues.”
He glanced at her in surprise. Though she looked like The
Sunshine Fairy, her thought process was seasoned investigator. He hadn’t noticed
the contrast until a few days ago when she’d made such meticulous notes about
his assault. “But it’s also risky,” he said, wondering how she’d counter his
challenge. “What if the body’s found by security or somebody who doesn’t panic?”
As he recalled the chaotic crime scene, he added, “Anybody with sense.”
“A tourist with sense?” she asked, rolling her eyes as she
smiled. “What are the odds?”
That smile was her silver bullet. Or, in this gang’s case, the
golden arrow. Under her influence, thousands would confess and be led to jail
without protest. Maybe he should throw himself on the mercy of the court and/or
his scheming frame-up guys with her as his defense.
He really did need her—and in more than the obvious ways. Had
he been so distracted by their attraction that he hadn’t noticed everything else
she was? Was he so afraid of tainting her with his dark life that he hadn’t
recognized her strength?
“Tourists can be smart,” he conceded. “Definitely brighter than
me, but not about a bloody stab wound.”
“Exactly. So you’re down to hoping the body’s discovered by
docs, cops, nurses and paramedics. Smart bad guy,” she repeated.
“Or at least one who was willing to risk playing the panic
odds.” There was a strange parallel, actually, between the confusion of the
night he’d chased the thief and the case that had changed the way he’d
investigated.
Though the similarity might simply be because he’d been
suspended as a result both times. Or that a stunning blonde had been on hand
both times.
“She was,” Devin said, his gaze drawn by the moon hanging
brightly in the sky, outshining even Manhattan’s brightest.
“Hang on. The killer was a woman?”
“The day after the murder, she found me at one of my pub
haunts, claiming to be a cousin of the victim. She was beautiful, upset and
lonely. I—”
“Made her less lonely,” Calla finished before he could admit
the nasty truth.
Devin clenched his jaw. Admitting his mistake in judgment
wasn’t nearly as difficult as telling Calla he’d lost his head over another
woman. “I thought she was a concerned friend. She was his smuggling
partner.”
“And honor among thieves only goes so far.”
“Apparently. We got her, thanks to determined work by my
lieutenant and the rest of the team, though obviously not before my superiors
uncovered our personal connection.”
“Resulting in the suspension.” She paused. “And a transfer out
of Homicide.”
“I was lucky I didn’t lose my badge.”
“Was this Lieutenant Meyer, by any chance?”
“No. He was the only one willing to take me on after the
stabbing case.” Devin closed his eyes against the image of Meyer being
interrogating by straitlaced Colin Reid. “I owe him.”
Calla pressed her lips to his cheek. “Things will be different
this time.”
His skin warmed by both her gesture and her touch. “How?”
“You’ve got me. And my friends.” She glanced at the kitten,
curled up on a blanket at her feet. “Sharky, too. All great teams need a
kick-ass mascot.”
Since their fierce symbol was currently flopped on his back and
sleeping off his chicken casserole, Devin wasn’t sure of his advantage. But the
cat had gotten him through Calla’s door and back into her good graces—for now,
anyway—so he had a permanent spot in the gang as far as Devin was concerned.
As he raised his gaze to Calla’s face, he noticed what she was
wearing, a filmy, pale yellow print dress. Her hair was piled on top of her
head, and her lips were painted the same glossy pink as her toenails. His mouth
went dry. Had he been so intent on his issues that he’d failed to notice his
greatest asset was an angel?
“You’re wearing a dress,” he said like an idiot.
“Thanks for noticing,” she returned without missing a beat.
“You were wrapped in a robe when I got here.”
“And then I changed.”
“Why?”
“I like to look nice. I usually wear this dress with these cute
brown cowboy boots that I got on sale at Barney’s.”
How they’d gone from murder to shoe sales at a high-end
department store was just one of the mysteries of their relationship. A
relationship it might be time to stop fighting. Distance and his clumsy effort
to be noble were getting him nowhere. “You’re tougher than I thought you were,”
he said, for once letting himself delight in her adorable girliness.
“Tougher, how?” she asked suspiciously.
“Stronger, harder, resilient. Not so...”
“Pollyanna?”
Based on the scowl marring her beautiful lips, he decided not
to agree with that assessment. “Fairylike.”
“Have you been talking to Shelby and Victoria? Is this a Robin
Hood thing?”
They weren’t stealing anything, they weren’t righting a wrong
against the repressed and innocent, since he wasn’t either. “I don’t see how.
Though, I guess he is a fairy tale.”
“Not in my world.” She turned her face toward the moon, leaving
him with her stunning profile. “His ideology is as real as the Crusades
themselves. We’re going to make things right. You’re going to get your badge
back.”
“I have no idea why, but I believe you.”
“It’s the Pollyanna Plague.” She took a step toward him. Given
the size of the balcony, they bumped chests. “Very contagious.”
At her proximity, his heart picked up speed. “I appreciate
everything you and your friends are doing. But untangling this plot of a known
thief, his assault and the reasons for it all is gonna be the biggest
challenge...well, since the last time I was suspended. And since that will
require all my effort, I’ve been thinking that the tension between us gets in
the way of concentrating on work.”
At the end of his rambling, she blinked. “You’re into long
speeches these days.” Her gaze dropped to his lips. “What tension exactly?”
“The I-want-you kind.”
“Which you’re admitting all of a sudden.”
“Seems stupid to continue to deny it.”
“How sensible of you. How do you propose we get rid of it?”
“Sleep with me.”
She coughed. “Boy, when you decide to solve a problem, you dive
right in.”
“I’m not good at subterfuge.” He slipped his arms around her
waist. “Pretending the attraction isn’t there hasn’t worked so far. I figure if
we get the sex out of the way, we can be more relaxed around each other.”
“Gee, Devin, don’t go all gooey and romantic on me.”
How could he have ever imagined he’d do it right? He’d missed
so many opportunities with her, convincing himself she couldn’t handle the
realities of his life and past. She hadn’t flinched, and he was still fumbling
for balance. “How about I want you like crazy, and I can’t go another second
without touching you?”
“I can work with that.” She took his hand and led him to her
bedroom.
She moved some clothes from the bed to a chair in the corner,
then turned, sliding her palms up his chest. “You kiss me this time.”
He had last time, if she remembered, but he knew what she
meant. If they were going to be together, he had to go all in. And since it was
likely he’d say something else lousy, he cupped her cheek and laid his lips over
hers before he could ruin everything.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and angled her head as he
deepened the kiss.
He could hardly believe he finally had her all to himself, that
she wanted him as much as he needed her. She was a dream he couldn’t possibly
hold on to, but he wasn’t going to question his bounty now.
When she grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and lifted it over his
head, he went to work on the buttons of her dress. In seconds, the fabric pooled
at her feet, and she was left wearing a pale pink-and-white lacy bra-and-panty
set. With all that golden flesh exposed, he dug deep for restraint. He didn’t
usually have trouble with women and pleasure, but there was an added pressure
he’d never felt before. Calla was special and pretending otherwise was
futile.
He fell to his knees in front of her, kissing his way across
her stomach. She slid her fingers through his hair, arching her back as he
released the front clasp of her bra and his tongue wetted her nipple.
Glorying in her silken skin and vanilla-ladened scent, he
wished for endless days to indulge in the need she inspired. Each sigh she
exhaled and every stroke of her hands set off a fresh wave of longing. Desire
unfulfilled, but assured to satisfy in short order.
When he could stand the foreplay no longer, he scooped her into
his arms and laid her on the bed. She clung to him, seducing him with her mouth
as if he needed more encouragement, then, smiling, she pulled a condom from the
bedside table.
He snatched the protection from between her fingers and tried
to take off his jeans at the same time. When he stumbled and nearly fell over,
she laughed, but in a good way.
She stripped off her panties as he rolled on protection, and he
found himself where he’d wanted to be from the moment he’d met her—on the verge
of being part of her lightness and warmth.
“Friends?” she asked, sliding her fingertips down the center of
his chest.
“Ahh...yes?”
“And more.” She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck.
“It’s about time, Detective.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
As he braced himself above her, he was more sure than ever that
he didn’t deserve her and completely certain he wouldn’t listen to anyone who
warned him off. If only for a little while she’d belong to him.
He kissed her as he joined their bodies, as the moonlight
through the window illuminated their need. She both clung to him as guide and
made sure he understood what she wanted.
He gave her everything he had.
She wrapped her legs around his hips and held him deep inside,
bringing him pleasure like he’d never known. She wasn’t a release or a conquest.
She was all-encompassing, and he was in big trouble.
As they rocked and gasped for release, he knew he’d need her
again. Every hour, every minute. He wouldn’t get her out of his system with one
night and probably not a thousand.
Maybe he’d focus better knowing she was by his side, but he’d
lied going in, and she’d eventually find out. He had no intention of “getting
sex out of the way.” He’d stay with her every moment he could, he’d touch her
every chance he got.
How could he possibly be expected to resist her light?
Her breath hitched as pleasure danced across her face. He
increased his pace, absorbing her desire like a cleansing waterfall. His own
climax had been hovering, but clawed to the surface as her body contracted
around him. Joining her as the passion peaked, he wished for strength to keep
her body satisfied, as he wouldn’t hold her for long.
Wrapped around her as the echoes of their climax pulsed, she
asked, “You’re not going to tell me that was a mistake, are you?”