It was as if his body and mind had quietly gone on automatic pilot without his knowledge.
One second, James was looking down into Constance’s face, thinking that maybe he had seen more attractive women during the course of his lifetime, but even the most exceptional had not attracted him the way this woman did with her soft Southern lilt and her hypnotic blue eyes. If he listened closely, he was certain he could hear the crackle of electricity between them.
The next second, he was lowering his lips to hers without any conscious decision to do so. It just happened. Inevitably.
He had no say in the matter. He had to kiss her.
He had to kiss her.
Struggling for some kind of control over himself, James lightly brushed his lips against hers, silently insisting that was enough.
He rarely lied, especially to himself. He did this time. Because it wasn’t enough. All it did was create a hunger in his belly for more. A hunger he couldn’t deny. The look in her eyes pulled him in completely, leaving him without any kind of marker to help him find his way back.
Framing her face in his hands, his breath caught in his throat, James kissed her again. This time, there was no pretense, no attempt at a fleeting brushing of lips. This time, the kiss was more intense. Somewhere inside of him, he still hoped that he could somehow navigate his way through the rapids to the shore on the other side without being completely lost.
Hope died quickly.
In its wake came a need, a desire, the likes of which he couldn’t recall ever encountering. Not even with Janice. Not even with the first woman he’d ever made love to. He knew he should be backing away. Now. While he still could. But there were forces greater than his will at work, forces that impeded his following through.
A tenth of a moment later, he forgot why he wanted to flee.
Constance knew there had to be a law on the school board books that prohibited kissing in the classroom. But until someone came and physically hit her over the head with the book that contained the rule, she was content to be blissful in her ignorance. Blissful because this man stirred up something wonderful, something delicious within her, made that much more so by the edge of danger she knew was present.
Not the danger of being discovered here with this dark, brooding detective. That was almost insignificant compared to the danger attached to caring for this man. Even now, with her head spinning out of control and her pulse rate breaking every speed record, she knew caring about James came with a penalty.
It wasn’t the kind of consequence she would have had to face with Josh. Had she married Josh, she would have risked depleting her bank account.
With James, she was risking her heart.
She sensed heartbreak shimmering on the horizon. Because she had no idea if this man could ever truly open himself up the way she wanted him to.
The way she needed him to.
She had to be in touch with the person she cared about, the person she loved. The thought of continually having to knock on the closed castle door twisted her heart.
But this was logic. What she was feeling right now was light-years removed from anything logical. Light-years removed from classrooms and responsibilities.
At this moment in time, as her body leaned into his, rising in temperature, she was smack-dab in the middle of a passion that made it hard for her even to remember that breathing was a prerequisite to survival.
When he moved back, she felt herself drifting down slowly to earth, a leaf separated from the branch of the tree that had given it sustenance.
After a beat, she realized that her eyes were closed. She forced them open to look at him. Had he just gotten handsomer? More rugged? She was willing to believe anything, knowing as she did that she was on very, very dangerous ground. Crossing Niagara Falls on a tightrope made of dental floss.
She tried not to sigh and just barely succeeded. “I should have you give a talk to the students more often.”
For a second, he made no response. James was struggling with an urge so basic and so adolescent he was utterly stunned by it. With the smallest of signs from her, he would have found a place, a broom closet if necessary, and made love to her until he dropped from exhaustion. Maybe then this insanity would finally drain away from him and leave him in peace.
But he was a responsible adult. A police detective for God’s sake. Responsible adults didn’t make love in broom closets.
Not unless there was no other choice.
But he had a choice. He had free will. Or prayed he did. Summoning it, he nodded toward the door that stood closed, a million miles away.
“I’d better be going.”
She pressed her lips together, not trusting herself to say anything coherent until she could pull all of herself together. It took longer than she’d hoped.
“Thanks for coming,” she finally managed to say as she walked with him to the door.
Out the door, all you have to do is make it out that door and you’re home free, James told himself. Just a little farther.
And then he stopped abruptly, knowing he was making another mistake. He turned toward her and asked, “Would you be interested in getting a cup of coffee with me somewhere? Sometime?”
Her smile went straight to his belly, curling there like smoke. “I imagine I might.” Her eyes were shining again. And he was getting lost in them. Again. “Somewhere, sometime.”
When his words echoed back to him, he saw how absurd they must have sounded to her. What the hell was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him. He was forceful, made life-and-death decisions in a blink of an eye. How could one small-boned female change all that in less time than it took to draw breath?
“Okay.” He looked directly into her eyes, challenging himself. Trying to steel himself off from her effects. “How about Friday night?”
Since she’d broken her engagement, unless there was some kind of charity function that required her presence, or a school conference taking place, Friday nights found her home with her television set and a bowl of homemade popcorn.
“Sounds perfect.”
He nodded, the way he might when arranging to interview a suspect. Doing his damnedest to keep it on a less than intensely personal level. “I’ll pick you up at your place. Seven-thirty.”
She grinned. “Still perfect.”
Her lips pursed around the second word. Temptation swooped in, whispering in his ear for him to kiss her again. But he knew if he did, he probably would opt for the broom closet.
So he mumbled goodbye and left.
Before he couldn’t.
Santini combed his fingers through his wet hair, getting rid of the excess moisture. It was misting and he’d been standing on the corner for the last ten minutes, waiting for James to come by and pick him up. They were both responding to the same early-evening call that had ruined both their plans.
He’d tried several times to engage his partner in conversation. Each attempt had been met with stony silence. He’d seen Munro pensive before, but this brought new meaning to the word.
“Well, you’re in one hell of a mood tonight,” Santini declared, annoyed. “If you were a rain cloud, I’d be running for high ground.”
They were driving down to Lexington and the scene of yet another restaurant robbery—R Squared the papers were calling it. It didn’t put James in the best frame of mind. The extenuating circumstances didn’t either.
He slanted a lethal glance toward Santini. “Might not be a bad idea, anyway.”
But over the years, Santini had learned to stand his ground. If he didn’t, Munro would plow right over him. “If I’m going to drown, mind telling me what crawled under your saddle and died?”
It was Friday night. And instead of being on his way to pick Constance up for dinner, something he’d told himself all week that he was dreading rather than looking forward to, he was driving with Santini to the scene of yet another R Squared. This time, the stakes had gotten higher. This time, someone had died at the scene.
Munro made no attempt to answer his question as he glared straight ahead at the glistening windshield with its sprinkling of summer rain.
“Hey, at least this didn’t ruin your plans like it did mine.” Santini’s anger mounted as he talked. “Rita’s mother took the kids to her house for the night. We were going to go out for dinner and a movie and then come back to an empty house.” He shifted in his seat, his seat belt straining as he looked at James. “I was looking forward to getting lucky tonight.”
“Lucky? You?”
Santini covered his broad chest with his hand, feigning surprise. “Hey, the sphinx speaks.” He dropped his hand and his pretense. “Yeah, lucky. Don’t kid yourself. It’s harder for a married man with kids to get lucky than it is for a single guy.” He thought of the missed opportunity and how angry Rita had been when the chief had called. They had just made it out the door when his cell phone had gone off. “Less planning went into coordinating D-Day during the World War II invasion than in arranging tonight.”
James blew out a long breath. “You’re not the only one who had plans tonight.”
Santini’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Something good on TV tonight? C’mon, Munro, you don’t date.” God knew he had tried often enough to set his partner up. Rita had maybe a hundred cousins, all female. A few were sufficiently decent for James, but the latter never agreed to a setup.
When there was no answer from James, Santini’s eyes widened as he stared at him. “You had a date.” His voice echoed with disbelief. “With a woman?”
James debated not responding, then bit off, “Yeah, with a woman.”
Feeling both relieved and incredibly let down at the same time, he had phoned Constance right after he’d received the call from the chief. She’d listened quietly, as if she’d been expecting his call all along, and then had told him that it was all right. She’d said she had papers to grade.
She’d taken the news better than he’d thought.
He wasn’t sure he liked that.
Fumbling for words, he’d mumbled something about stopping by after he was done if it wasn’t too late. But even as he’d said it, he knew it would be too late. Investigations didn’t just neatly fold themselves up and fit into preordained slots. Depending on what they found, he and Santini could be there all night.
He realized that Santini was still talking to him.
“Who?” Santini demanded. And then, for what James saw as no earthly reason, his partner suddenly declared, “It’s that woman with the cameo, isn’t it?”
“Put some of those astute deductive powers to work on the case, Santini,” James told him.
Technically, since he’d pulled primary on this case, he could order all the detectives assigned to the case to remain until someone found something tangible they could finally use. The robber had to get sloppy sometime. James had to concentrate to keep his mind on the case. Or cases, as it were.
As he took the corner and approached O Susannah’s, where the latest robbery had taken place, he saw the usual crowd. And more. There were several cars parked in a circle, like pioneer wagons bracing for a hostile attack. But what caught his eye wasn’t the ambulance or the M.E. truck. He recognized one of the cars. It belonged to another detective.
Gritting his teeth together, he said to Santini, “They’ve called in Homicide.” Which meant interference and grappling for territorial rights. That always slowed things down considerably.
As if they were galloping along now.
He swore under his breath. It was their case and he and Santini were going to crack it. Without the help of any hotshot Johnny-come-latelies.
“This just keeps getting better and better,” he muttered as he pulled his car up beside the M.E.’s black SUV.
It promised to be a long night. But not as long as it was for the person inside the body bag being zipped up just as James was getting out of his vehicle.
It was after eleven and he was drained.
James knew he should just keep driving straight and head for home, drop into bed and hopefully acquire a few hours of sleep. But his brain was on overtime and he knew that sleep would elude him for hours.
Besides, he had these two large containers of coffee in his car. If he went home, they’d go to waste.
He’d found himself driving toward her part of town. Getting the coffee had been an afterthought. An excuse.
Didn’t mean anything, he was just driving. The coffee was there to keep him awake. Both containers. And driving around sometimes helped work out the tension he was feeling.
Or added to it.
Looking down, he became aware that he was holding the steering wheel in a death grip with both hands. He willed himself to relax.
It took a bit of doing.
James continued driving, heading for her place even as he silently lectured himself that if he showed up on her doorstep at this hour, bearing two containers of coffee, not only might he be guilty of waking her up, but also of making her believe that there was something going on between them.
Well, isn’t there?
It was the same annoying voice, the one that saw no reason to give him any peace since the moment he’d first heard her voice on the telephone.
Yeah, he grudgingly admitted, he supposed there was “something” going on between them, but not the something. Not the kind of thing that led to long-term commitments.
As long as he kept that in mind, it would be okay to see her.
He kept on driving.
He found a parking spot less than a block away. Leaving the vehicle, he walked down the street, a container of coffee in each hand. The doorman he’d met the other day was still on duty. He greeted James with a warm look of recognition as he approached.
“Good to see you again, Detective,” the man declared as he held open the door for him.
James nodded at the man.
“Here, let me get the elevator for you.” For a heavy-set man, the doorman moved with surprising agility. He jabbed the button, then touched the brim of his hat. “Have a nice night, sir.”
Seeing as how he was putting himself out on a skinny limb, James didn’t see how a “nice night” was possible.
The ride up was even faster than he remembered, pitching his stomach against his ribs. He got off, juggling the coffee containers so that he could ring her doorbell. Mentally, he began counting. If she wasn’t here by five he was leaving.
She was there by three.
The sleep that hovered around her eyes seemed to vanish instantly the second she realized who had rung her doorbell.
“James, you did come.” She threw the door open wider. “I’d given up hope.”
Hoping. She’d been hoping he would come. This wasn’t good. He made no move to enter, frozen there by her declaration.
“Look, if it’s too late—”
“It’s Friday night. That means it’s not really a school night.” She winked as she took his arm and coaxed him into the apartment like a newborn colt who was unsteady on his legs and wasn’t quite sure what to do with them yet. “I can stay up.”
The second he was inside the penthouse, he heard the sound of tiny nails pounding against the tile in a quick, staccato motion. The next moment, Felicia was there, barking, leaping and looking as if she were going to take him and his containers of coffee down.
“I think you’d better give me those.” Constance laughed as she took the coffee containers.
His hands free, James stooped down and picked up the eager animal. Felicia appeared as if she were in seventh heaven, trying to lick every part of his face at once. It took effort not to laugh. The dog was a furry bundle of pure love.
He looked at Constance over Felicia’s head. “How’s the dog coming along?”
Constance gestured around the apartment with one container. “She has complete run of the place, so she’s thrilled.”
That wasn’t what he meant. But a sniff of the air told him there’d been no telltale accidents. Either that, or Constance had a staff of maids who took care of that kind of thing instantly. “How’s the training going?”
“Fine.” She paused to grin at her pet. The dog seemed oblivious to her now that James was here. I know where you’re coming from, honey, Constance thought. “She has me eating out of her paw.”
Felicia was still licking his face a mile a minute, like a long-lost friend who had given up all hope of ever being reunited with him. The little pink tongue felt rough. He shifted the dog to his other side as he looked at Constance. “I don’t exactly see you as being a pushover.”
She liked the compliment. A good many people equated her soft Southern lilt to her being fairly brainless and easily manipulated. She was anything but. If she had a fault, though, it was that she was too ready to trust. To believe the best of everyone. She’d gotten a little wiser since Josh, but then, she hadn’t truly been tested up to this point.
It made her a little uneasy.
“I’m afraid I am.” Her eyes held his for a moment. “When it comes to a great many things. But I did manage to housebreak her before she broke the house,” she added with a smile.
Walking into the spacious living room, she placed the two containers on the coffee table and sat down on the light blue sofa. The Manhattan skyline, available directly behind her thanks to the bay window, completed the picture. A complement of stars shone above her.
After a beat, he took the other end of the sofa, releasing Felicia to fend for herself. She raced around the sofa once, then sank down at his feet.
“You surprised me, showing up at this hour,” Constance told him.
“Yeah, well, I guess I kind of surprised myself, too,” he admitted and shrugged. “I get too wound up in a case, I can’t sleep. I took a chance that you might still be up.”
She held the container with both hands and drank deeply before answering. “Grading papers always takes a lot of time. Especially compositions.”
“Always hated compositions,” he remarked.
Her eyes crinkled into a grin. “These are about you. Career Day,” she reminded him. “You made a very good impression on the class. We now have ten potential police detectives.”
“Only ten?”
“Hey, it’s early yet. Some of them might change their minds.”
He took a long sip of his coffee, enjoying the banter. Unable to look anywhere but at her. She was wearing those white shorts again. The ones that had been produced by a manufacturer who obviously believed in economizing by husbanding his material.
He felt warm just looking at them. It was the last thing he needed. Shifting farther into his end of the sofa, he finally asked, “You got any other shorts you can wear?”
She looked down at the ones she had on. “Is there something wrong with these?”
“Yeah.” He took another sip before adding, “There’s not enough material.”
He didn’t like the way her laugh wrapped itself around him.
With a nod of her head, Constance stood up. “I see.” Leaning over, she placed her container of coffee back on the table and looked as if she were about to go into the bedroom.
He was a grown man, James chided himself. He should be able to rein himself in no matter what kind of thoughts were going on in his head. Shaking his head, he stopped her before she could leave the room. “No, never mind. You don’t have to change. I’ll just have to deal with it.”
She wondered if he realized that he’d complimented her. “You find this distracting?”
“Hell, yes.”
Her grin was huge. “Good, I was hoping you would.” Tucking one leg under her, she sank back down onto the sofa and reached for her coffee. James obviously needed to talk. She decided to prod him a little. “So, how’s the case coming along? Or am I not supposed to ask?”
“It’s an ongoing investigation.”
“In other words, you’re not supposed to talk about it.”
He considered her carefully. “I don’t figure you’re going to leak anything to the press.”
She pretended to zip her lips. “Anything you say here isn’t going anywhere. Unless Felicia has a byline at the Daily News I don’t know about.” She cocked her head. “Might do you good to use me as a sounding board, bounce off any theories you might have.” When he looked at her in surprise, she added, “Sometimes I’d stand outside the room and listen when Uncle Bob talked to Mama about a case.”
Humor curved his mouth for the first time that day. “You might have gotten more than you bargained for, doing that.”
She shook her head. “Wouldn’t happen. Mama was completely dedicated to Daddy’s memory. Which was too bad in a way. I really thought Uncle Bob would have made a great father. But the women in my mother’s family are very steadfast. One-man women to the grave.”
James noticed that she was fingering the cameo as she said that.