Mad About You (10 page)

He slid his hands under her shirt and explored her like a lost traveler looking for home, his fingers searching, finding, revering. Her breasts bloomed as he caressed them through her satiny bra, teasing the peaks until her arms weakened and dropped to his waist. She kneaded his back muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt, pressing herself into his hands, opening her mouth to his plundering tongue. His groans resonated in her throat, sending a hum through her limbs.

As he slipped the strap of her bra down one shoulder, he rained kisses along her jaw, triggering waves of shuddering desire. She rolled her shoulders, arching to meet him as his mouth traveled to her neck. He gently nipped at her lobe and flicked his tongue over the shell of her ear, sending liquid heat through her midsection and arrowing to her thighs.

"Ms. McKray," he whispered between ragged breaths, "I should very much like to inspect the condition of your bedroom."

Chapter Seven

TEN HEART-POUNDING, flesh-grinding, bone-melting seconds passed before his words sank in and sanity returned. Kat froze and her eyes popped open.

James increased the urgency of his caresses, and crooned into her ear, "On the other hand, the sofa would serve us just as well." He urged her to follow him, but at her resistance, he lifted his head.

Kat disentangled herself and righted her clothes, her mind spinning. Ignoring the disappointment and longing surging through her body, she took a deep breath. "James, having sex is not going to help anything."

James glanced down at the bulge straining the front of his slacks and grinned wryly. "I'm afraid I don't concur."

She averted her gaze and backed away from him, trying to rid herself of the lingering burn of his hands on her skin. Gesturing around the room, she laughed wildly. "Look at this place—this represents the state of my life right now, and you want us to get naked!"

His eyebrows rose. "You seemed to be enjoying it as much as I, Pussy-Kat."

A hot flush spread over her
face. "I...
I lost my head. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. It's been a crazy day, and I'm not myself."

He slowly dragged his fingers through his hair, exhaling. "Forgive me—I don't make a habit of taking advantage of damsels in distress."

Part of her felt flattered that he seemed so disappointed, but a larger part felt annoyed at his inference that she needed to be rescued. Her chin came up. "And I don't make a habit of
being
a damsel in distress."

James sighed. "Once again I offend you," he said, splaying his hands. "Perhaps we should both get some rest and resume work on the case tomorrow. I'll drop the coffee cups off to the detective before I return to my hotel." He walked over to the counter and carefully wrapped the mugs in paper towels.

Barbs of remorse pricked Kat—she didn't want him to leave, and that in itself scared her almost as much as the prospect of going to jail for something she didn't do. She found a plastic grocery bag and held it open in silence as he lowered the cups into it. Her mind raced for healing words, but as she opened her mouth, a knock sounded at her door. She jumped at the noise, her nerves a jangled mess.

"Are you expecting anyone?"

Kat shook her head and walked to the door, wondering what else could happen today. "Who is it?"

"It's Valmer, Katherine."

Her shoulders eased forward in relief and she swung open the door. "Come in, Val."

"How are you doing, my dear?" The rotund man stopped when he noticed James, then addressed him, his voice tinged with suspicion. "I thought you were simply driving Katherine home, Mr. Donovan."

James nodded, then indicated her apartment. "When we discovered this mess, I helped her straighten up a bit and we ordered dinner in."

Feeling guilty and exposed without her glasses and with her hair hanging loose around her shoulders, Kat was too aware of the hot flush climbing her neck. Valmer glanced back and forth between them—he obviously suspected hanky-panky.

"Has there been a new development?" James stepped in smoothly to bridge the awkward moment.

Val turned back to Kat. "I thought you'd want to know the grand jury will hear your case in one week."

Her knees felt rubbery, so she sat down hard on the denim couch. "As of now, what are the chances I'll be indicted?"

Val's grunt was not comforting. "Well, it's all circumstantial evidence, but it's strong. I'd say fifty-fifty, but you could shift the odds in your favor if you take a polygraph."

Kat's heart pounded and she glanced up nervously at James, then back to Val. "Is that necessary?"

"It would help, Kat, and it's a fairly simple procedure."

Dread mushroomed in her stomach. "What kind of questions will I be asked?"

"Simple things to set the baseline for your responses," he said, "with inquiries about the burglary thrown in at intervals." He walked over and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll do just fine. We'll beat these charges, Katherine."

She conjured up a brave smile. "Of course we will."

James briefed Valmer about the possible significance of the coffee cups and told him he would hand-deliver them to Detective Tenner.

"Perhaps I'd better take them," Val offered hesitantly, still unconvinced of James's trustworthiness.

"Be my guest," James said magnanimously, pushing the bag toward him. "But I plan to see him regardless."

Val's mouth twisted. "I'll call Detective Tenner tomorrow morning to make sure he received them." Turning to go, he said, "Call me in the morning to set up a time for the polygraph, okay, Kat?"

She stood on shaky legs and walked the few steps to the door with him. "Val, what if I'm nervous? What if I fail the test?"

He smiled. "You won't—everything will be fine, Katherine. You'll see." Then he squeezed her hand and closed the door behind him.

Kat held on to the doorknob and kept her back to James, trying to regain her composure. Her body was still rebounding from her lapse with James, and now she had one more setback to cinch a sleepless night: She would never pass the polygraph. One impulsive sin would come back to haunt her.

James studied her from behind, the droop of her shoulders, the white-knuckled grip on the doorknob. Offering comfort to her seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Walking up behind her, he gently wrapped his arms around her, covered her hands with his, and dropped his chin to her shoulder. Her hair smelled heavenly, and that sweet, soft smell lingered on her skin. She acknowledged his presence by relaxing into him slightly. When he could no longer will his body to remain calm, he whispered, "I'll call you early tomorrow."

James reluctantly released her and she moved away from the door to open it. While shrugging into his jacket, he winked at her, glad to see her mouth turn up slightly at the corners. He didn't want to leave her alone, and the revelation stunned him. "I'll come back to stay if you need company," he offered. "I'll take the sofa."

"No," she said softly. "I don't think that would be wise."

He pursed his lips, nodding in agreement. He scribbled his number on a piece of paper. "Call my cell phone or my room at the Flagiron Hotel if you require my services—" He paused and searched for firmer ground. "That is, if you wish to speak to me."

She smiled, but the spark didn't reach her blue eyes, which seemed a little too wide and a little too moist for his comfort.

James walked to his car in the early dusk of the evening, passing off his antsy feelings as simple pent-up lust. Kat was a desirable woman in trouble, and he was programmed to offer assistance. It was natural to have protective feelings for her—but these strange sensations rumbling around in his chest felt alien to him.

Then he grinned wryly. Perhaps it was his ego smarting from being turned down. He seemed to be losing his touch in several areas.

James headed to the police station and circled for thirty minutes to find a parking place, then entered the nondescript building and asked an officer seated behind bulletproof glass for Detective Tenner. The uniformed man waved him through a door where he patted James down. He warned him of the gun before the officer found it, then presented various credentials and licenses. The officer also searched the bag containing the two cups, adding his own prints before James could stop him. Finally satisfied, the man checked his weapon and gave him vague directions, sending James on a journey through a noisy maze of cubicles and people, a hodgepodge of police officers, suspects, and witnesses.

Incredibly, he heard the snapping gum before he found the detective. Tenner was sitting on a desk, his feet in a chair, his grubby white shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows. The tie was long gone, it seemed. He stopped mid-laugh in response to something a seated companion was saying.

"Well, Agent Donovan." He kicked the chair out of the way and lurched to his feet. "What brings you here?"

James nodded a greeting. "I was wondering if the lab reports are back on the coffee the security guards at Jellico's were drinking."

Tenner stretched out the gum with the tip of his tongue and squinted. James knew the tests had come back, but the detective was deliberating whether to tell him.

"You and I are on the same side, Detective," James assured him.

"Is that so?" the man asked, cocking his head. "Well, I think you've got a thing for that McKray woman."

James pursed his lips. "Which doesn't make her any more or less guilty, does it?"

"No," Tenner agreed, still dubious.

"The results have to be made available before the grand jury meets—what harm could it do to let me in on it? I'd like to keep my client in England informed of the progress on the case."

Tenner blew a bubble, then sucked it back into his mouth. "Over-the-counter sleeping pills in the coffee. Funny—they're the same brand as the ones we found in your girlfriend's nightstand."

His reference to their relationship rankled James, but he didn't react. "Which is still circumstantial," James pointed out. "What else did you find to warrant making such a mess?"

The detective grunted. "The coat, hat, and shoes."

James shrugged. "But you expected to, correct?"

"Yep, but we didn't plan on finding a piece of the gallery's missing jewelry."

The last bit of news startled James. "Jewelry, did you say?"

"Yep—a ring."

"Where?"

Tenner shook his head smugly. "I think I'll keep that one to myself."

James's pulse jumped and he experienced a twinge of doubt. Was it possible Kat had taken the jewelry? She had seemed very concerned about passing the polygraph. "Have you been following up on other suspects?"

Crossing his arms, the overweight detective frowned. "And what other suspects would that be, Agent Donovan?"

James held up the plastic bag. "I have possible evidence from Katherine McKray's flat indicating at least two people were inside."

Tenner's bushy eyebrows knitted. "I thought we gave her place a pretty good going-over."

They had, and James resisted the urge to shake him for it. "These two cups were in the dishwasher and Ms. McKray insists she didn't use them. Did you or your men happen to?"

"No."

"Then someone else was in her apartment long enough to enjoy a cup of coffee. I suspect her friend Denise Womack had a guest over, although she denied it. Perhaps you'd better have her fingerprinted to check against these cups."

"We know how to do our job here, Agent," Tenner said as he reached for the bag.

James removed a pen from an inside jacket pocket. "Unfortunately, you'll find Ms. McKray's prints on them, and the fellow at the front who's keeping my weapon until I leave. Will you please keep me informed?" He scratched his cell phone number on a piece of paper. "And I’m staying at the—"

"Flagiron Hotel, room twelve forty-five." The man grinned widely, showing coffee-stained teeth. "Like I said, we know how to do our job, Agent."

*****

Kat set the framed picture of her father on the bookshelf and rubbed her thumb over his face until tears blurred her focus. She sniffed hard and went back to her task of restoring order to the living room. Her body throbbed from exhaustion and some other distant ache that worsened when she thought of Agent James Donovan.

She ought to be in bed, regaining her strength in preparation for the week ahead, which, unless someone stepped forward and confessed to the crime, promised to deteriorate even further. But if she kept her hands busy, she wouldn't dwell on the upheaval in her life. The land line phone rang a dozen times, and each time she hoped it was James calling. But she resisted and allowed it to roll over to her answering machine.

Several reporters called. Andy Wharton left a message saying he hoped she'd be back to work soon—how were they going to host the open house next week without her? Despite her predicament, Kat felt anxious about the success of Jellico's annual open house—old habits and loyalties, however misplaced, were hard to break.