Heath stood a few feet from Harper Fox’s family in their Capitol Hill mansion. The three women sat together on the fancy gray silk sofa. His chest felt hollow at the sight of Harper, her face glistening with fresh tears. What could he say? Her father had been murdered, and there was no easy way to dress that shit up so it sounded less of a nightmare.
Elizabeth Fox stared at Heath, her expression defiant, as if refusing to believe such a catastrophe could befall her family. Only the death grip she had on the hands of her two daughters, Sienna and Harper, sitting one on each side of her, gave away her inner struggle.
“I can’t—” Harper broke off, sucking in a breath as her free hand twisted the skirt of her green dress. “I can’t believe this has happened.”
Seth, sitting on the end of the sofa, tightened his arm around the sweet brunette and kissed her temple. “We take this one moment at a time, sweetness.” Above her head, Seth sent Heath’s fellow detectives a warning look.
“The detectives will need to ask you questions separately, ladies, and search through Mr. Fox’s papers, but nobody’s going to bully you,” Adam Justice’s deep voice declared with an authority he didn’t possess—a fact the ex-commando ignored. Dressed in his usual attire of black cargo pants, t-shirt and boots, Adam stood ready for action a few feet away from Heath. His usual hard features softened as he caught Harper’s gaze.
In different circumstances Heath would laugh at the change in Adam’s attitude toward Harper. At one time, Adam had regarded the café owner with deep suspicion. Now, weeks later, Heath was certain Adam would give his life to protect her.
Seth had claimed Harper. Therefore, she gained the protection of Seth’s brothers.
And now the circle of protection extended to Elizabeth, Sienna, and Sienna’s family.
That’s how his family operated.
Harper glanced up at Heath, her gaze beseeching, as if he held the answers to why her world had turned upside down. “Who would shoot my father?”
That was the billion dollar question. One Tollison, judging by the way he eyed Adam with more than a hint of annoyance, wanted to solve as quickly as possible. Considering Fox’s secrecy in his dealings, shady and otherwise, Heath guessed the path would be difficult.
“We knew s-something was w-wrong.” Sienna’s words stumbled out around fresh tears. “He’d been acting strangely. Remember, Mom, you said so yourself.” She ran a shaky hand through her blonde hair, mussing up the sleek style.
Her mother opened her mouth as if to speak but closed it again, her gaze dropping to the antique rug at her feet as she looked to be searching for the right words.
“Acting strangely?” Agent Tollison leaned forward from his seat on the sofa opposite. “How do you mean?” The agent’s tone was deceptively soft, encouraging even.
Sienna blinked. “He missed social engagements, events he’d been insistent about attending.” She cast her mom a quick glance. “Dad kept losing his temper—more than usual. And once, he yelled at Mom. Lashed out at her. He’d never done that before.”
“That’s true.” Harper gently squeezed her mom’s forearm. “Mom, tell Heath and Agent Tollison about Lewis.”
Elizabeth Fox let out a long breath before fixing her gaze on Heath. “My husband had a driver, Lewis. He’d been with us for twenty years. Around two weeks ago, I spoke to him on a Tuesday evening, checking our schedules, and the next morning, a new man arrived to drive Stanton to the office.” Elizabeth clutched a pearl-like button on the pink filmy material of her blouse. She shook her head, her short, swept back blonde hair staying in place. “I didn’t recognize him. He said his name was Smith. Big, tough looking. Eyes that saw right through you. He…frightened me.” She swallowed. “Stanton was impatient when I questioned him later. He told me Lewis had taken early retirement.”
“You didn’t believe him.” Agent Tollison’s words were a statement, not a question.
Mrs. Fox’s expression turned desolate. “No, I didn’t,” she whispered.
“I tried calling Lewis a few days later,” Sienna shared. At Heath’s raised eyebrow, she rushed on. “We all had his number in case we needed a lift when in town and Dad could spare him. Anyway, his daughter had his cell phone. Apparently, Dad’s secretary told him he was being let go. Lewis received a healthy payout, more than enough to retire on, and two tickets for a world trip. Right now, he and his wife are somewhere in Europe.”
A payoff guaranteed to silence the guy.
“Is letting a longtime employee go for no reason the kind of thing your dad would do?” Kennedy asked from where he stood off to the side near Derek and Seth. He’d kept a low profile, letting Heath make the most of his friendship with Harper.
Harper answered. “The dismissing part maybe, but Lewis was one of the few people Dad had any time for.”
An ally of sorts. An employee Fox could rely on to do his job without question, who would overhear personal conversations, observe Fox’s private life. Why would he want to lose an employee he trusted?
“That’s only the beginning.” Seth straightened up, his hand resting on Harper’s shoulder as he eyed the men. “Lewis’s replacement was a guy who looked like he might snap your neck as soon as wax a limo. Then, even weirder, staff weren’t allowed into Fox’s office unless they were vetted by this thug.”
A protector…or a handler?
Tollison’s brow creased. “He had an executive assistant to watch his door. I personally experienced her skills at running interference when we tried a diplomatic approach.”
Harper’s gaze narrowed at Tollison’s last sentence.
“And the new driver’s whereabouts now?” Heath could guess the answer.
Seth’s mouth hardened. “No one can reach him.”
Harper’s next question seemed more to herself than the men around her. “So why was some enforcer type my father’s choice of trusted door keeper?”
He figured the guy wasn’t Fox’s choice, but one that had been imposed on him.
Heath shared a look with Tollison and the other men.
Their actions weren’t missed by all three Fox women, who glanced at each other before Elizabeth spoke. “What is it you’re not telling us?”
Heath sighed inwardly. The time for any kind of subtlety had passed. “Mrs. Fox, Agent Tollison’s is heading a major investigation, one in which your husband had become a person of interest.”
The revelation earned him wide-eyed stares from the women.
Tollison’s voice was firm, but not intentionally hard. “I can’t share details. The case is ongoing. However, I can reveal we believe your husband was being blackmailed to commit certain felonies.”
“What?” Sienna’s mouth hung open.
Tollison waited a second for the information to fully sink in. “Our guess is the replacement chauffer was there to keep Fox in line.”
“You know by whom, don’t you?” Harper’s tone had an edge of demand.
Only one group of people would need such inside information on Fox—the nameless old-school tie organization.
Seth squeezed Harper’s shoulder. “Agent Tollison can’t share that information.”
Far from appeased, she glared at Seth. “So I shouldn’t ask any questions? How would you feel if this was your family?”
Well, hell. His brother was about to get his head handed to him. All the fear and the pent up frustration Harper had been feeling in the last half hour were about to find a release in the form of kicking Seth’s arse.
Before he could intervene, Adam spoke up. “Harper, sharing that kind of information jeopardizes the investigation.” She opened her mouth to argue, but Adam held up his hand. “Honey, the investigation now includes finding the bastards who were behind your dad’s murder.”
Maybe it was Adam’s words or his gentle tone, but Harper drooped back against Seth’s arm, the fight gone.
“Do you know the circumstances of the original investigation, Mr. Justice?” Elizabeth Fox asked Adam.
“Yes, ma’am, I do. Agent Tollison shared those facts with me a few weeks ago when my family was under attack.”
Heath felt everyone’s collective pause. The reference to the imposter’s strikes, and by extension, the shattering conclusion, was a stark reminder of the price that could be paid.
Harper went back on alert. “What did Agent Tollison’s investigation have to do with you, Adam? I mean,”—she gave her head a tiny shake—“what happened with Dillon didn’t involve my dad.”
Seth cursed under his breath, drawing Harper’s gaze.
Heath knew his brother had been dreading this moment for weeks, and sure, the timing sucked. What other option did Seth have except to come clean?
“There was a time we weren’t sure if your father was involved.” Seth wrapped her hand up in his. “Tollison knew Adam from his black ops days. When he saw the connection between you and me, he met up with us to see if I knew anything that could help his investigation.”
Harper drew in a loud breath. Her mother and sister could only stare. Lord knows the women had experienced more than enough shocks for one day.
“You spied on my father, on us?”
Seth tensed at the wounded tone in Harper’s voice.
“No,” Seth dragged a hand through the strands of his short brown hair. “I didn’t know anything to tell, which was exactly what I stated.” He turned to the agent, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Tell her.”
“It’s true.” Tollison nodded. “Seth never betrayed you, Ms. Fox. In fact, he defended your reputation and character during our meeting.”
Heath well remembered. At the time, he had wondered if the DHS Agent would get out of Seth’s apartment without a busted nose.
He’d have paid good money to see that contest.
Seth lifted his and Harper’s joined hands to run the back of his finger over her cheek. “I’d never betray you.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. I...” Her sigh seemed to drain all the fight out of her. She slumped against Seth. “It’s a lot to take in.”
Agent Tollison stepped closer. “I’m sorry to have to push further, but—”
“No, I won’t wait.” A raised voice came from the foyer. “I’m seeing her now!”
A man dressed in a dark tailored suit burst his way into the lounge room. “Don’t say another word, Elizabeth.” In his early sixties maybe, he carried a slim leather briefcase. “I’ll handle this.” He turned to face Heath and missed seeing Mrs. Fox raise her eyebrows. “I’m Felix Patton, attorney for the Fox family. Any questions you have for them are to be directed through me.”
Mrs. Fox reached out, gently tapping the fine weave of his jacket’s forearm. “Felix—”
Patton, not bothering to turn around, held up his hand in a silencing motion. “Leave this to me, Elizabeth.”
Heath hid his smile as Elizabeth Fox straightened in her seat. Anger shined in her still reddened blue eyes. “No, I don’t think I will.”
Patton jerked around. “My dear, you’ve been through a shock. Maybe you should—”
“Felix, were you aware of my husband’s private dealings?”
Patton frowned a second before puffing his chest out. “Of course. I was one of Stanton’s oldest friends. He discussed numerous matters with me.”
Elizabeth nodded. She flicked her gaze past the lawyer. “Agent Tollison, Detectives, I suggest you ask Felix as many questions as needed. My husband shared nothing of his exploits with me, but Felix has just volunteered his privileged position as confidant. Who knows what gems he can share.” She waved a hand regally toward the now open-mouthed lawyer. “Have at it.”
Heath’s lips twitched. Damn, it wasn’t hard to see where Harper got some of her sass. In all two of his encounters with Elizabeth Fox he’d thought her a remote, somewhat cold woman. Maybe there was more to her than met the eye.
The way Mrs. Fox stood her ground reminded Heath of a certain redhead who declared to him her secrets were hers to share only if and with whom she chose. An impressive act, considering London had been handcuffed and vulnerable at the time.
Putting thoughts of London—a lady he planned on revisiting soon—aside for a moment, he watched as Patton, despite his protests, was escorted out of the room by one of the DHS agents.
Without missing a beat, Elizabeth turned her gaze to Heath. “Detective Justice, from what you said earlier, you won’t be taking a role in this investigation?”
Not officially. Feeling the hard stares of the men in the room—some cautious, Tollison’s wary—he answered. “No, Mrs. Fox, I won’t. Considering Seth’s my brother, our Lieutenant wants no possibility for anyone to question how the investigation is handled. Detectives Kennedy and Faulkner will be working with Agent Tollison.”
Elizabeth nodded before addressing Adam. “Mr. Justice, Seth tells me you’re a top-notch security expert and investigator. He’s part of your team.”
Adam and Seth exchanged a quick glance before the oldest brother nodded. “That’s right, Mrs. Fox, and please, call me Adam. There’s too many of us Justices in the room otherwise.”
“Fair enough, Adam,” Elizabeth agreed to his request. “And you handle…sensitive matters for high profile clients?”
“That’s our brief. We’re a new venture, and I’m still building my team.”
Considering Adam’s team consisted of him and Seth, and he was working out of Seth’s old apartment until he found appropriate office space, calling his agency “new” was like saying the Titanic was waterlogged.
Heath switched his gaze between Adam and Mrs. Fox. Oh shit. He had a bad feeling about this.
“Mom?” Harper voice held a hint of caution.
Elizabeth patted her daughters’ hands before rising and moving to stand in front of Adam. The top of her perfectly coiffed blonde head reached a few inches below the neckline of his form-fitting t-shirt. “Adam, I’d like to hire you to investigate my husband’s activities.” Ignoring Harper and Sienna’s gasps, she continued. “Agent Tollison and the police have a job to do; I understand that. However, I want someone working with my family’s best interests at heart.”
And have Adam turn maverick if he felt the situation demanded and, therefore, disregarding established protocol between law enforcement agencies when conducting an investigation?
Sweet Jesus. No.
Tollison’s soft curse filled the room. Kennedy straightened up, his brows forming a deep V. And Faulkner? His fists were clenched like he wanted to tear apart a phone book with his bare hands.
For once, Adam didn’t have a quick reply. He took his time before he answered, his tone serious. “You may not like what I discover, Mrs. Fox. If I find proof he’s committed crimes, I’ll be sharing the information with other parties.”
Interesting. His brother didn’t automatically say with the DHS.
“I only ask you to give me warning. I don’t want my family blindsided by a headline in the press.”
“Fair enough.” Adam held out his hand.
Her small, dainty hand was swallowed up in Adam’s as they shook on their deal. “Call me Elizabeth, Adam.”
The deadly ex-commando was teamed up with the society dame.
Now things had become complicated.
****
The polished floorboards of London’s sunroom were cool under her bare feet as she walked in from the kitchen. She smiled to herself. It wouldn’t take long for the lazy summer weather to warm up the room.
Hard to believe Sunday had come around so fast. Hopefully, the fine weather would last all day.
She placed her mug of coffee and plate of peanut butter toast on the old wooden farm table she used as her writing desk. Potted plants and stacks of printed white paper sat alongside old mason jars full of pens, pencils, and her collection of Sharpies in different shades of purple—her favorite color. A new laptop—her treat to herself when she started her latest book series— sat in front of a large swivel chair.
For once, the screen saver of Richard Castle didn’t grab her attention. Oh, no. Her thoughts had been taken over by a certain detective.
How many times had Heath’s deep voice with that sexy accent played in her head? And those blue eyes of his—ever watchful—were an image she couldn’t banish, nor did she want to.
She sighed. You’re pathetic, girl. One encounter and she was fascinated by the tall Aussie.
Tall. Her mouth twisted. Such a plain description. But what words would describe him best?
Protective? Yes. When he’d held her prisoner near the garage and swept his thumb over her arm? That small sign of reassurance gave her the courage not to back down.
Confident? Oh, yeah. His touch—firm, not painful—masterful, not bullying. This man knew his own strength and his abilities.
Commanding? Absolutely. The moment in front of the garage when he had dragged her against him and threatened to hogtie her… London’s breath caught at the memory. And the overwhelming rush of excitement despite the inappropriateness of his threat? Uh huh. Commanding worked just fine.
But thoughts of him wouldn’t get her day started. She checked the clock on her laptop. Eight thirty. Two hours until she was due to meet Cleo at A New Chapter, the bookstore her friend managed. Enough time to eat breakfast, check her email, and get ready.
Reaching for a slice of toast, she knocked over a stack of Post-it pads onto the laptop’s keyboard. Her desk was a mess, but hey, that’s how she rolled. Everything within touching distance yet buried.
After taking a bite of her toast, she opened her email account reserved for her author business.
Thirty new emails. One from her agent, reminding London of their phone conference scheduled for Wednesday morning, a few from readers she would open later when she had time to answer properly, and then…
She hovered the cursor over the next two emails. Both were from fellow members of a writing group for published authors. The first was from Henry Banks, a best-selling author of thrillers known for his meticulous research. His subject line stated, ‘Meet with me’.
That was Henry, no social graces, just a demand. But the loner in his mid-forties had been a fountain of help and encouragement to London when she had first joined the writers’ group, and despite his abrupt style, they had developed an unlikely friendship over coffee and pastries.
Glancing at the other email, with the title “Beta read for L Shaw – Chapters One to Five, Untitled New Book”, London decided to leave Henry’s email for last.
Beta reads were a blessing and a curse. Her belly tightened at the thought of opening those emails. A fellow author critiquing one’s work and giving their opinion was like walking naked through a crowd of strangers. Mindless of the writer’s feelings, the critique partner might praise or criticize the work. London had submitted her chapters to the group’s website. Fellow members posted back their comments, allowing everyone in the group to read the verdict.
Here’s goes. With a few clicks, she was logged in and started reading.
By the time she had finished examining all the comments, her stomach felt like a hollowed out pit. The critique partner disliked…no, hated her work. Phrases such as “amateurish plotting” and “lackluster conflict” were just for starters.
London sank deeper in her chair, a boulder-sized serving of self-doubt weighing her down.
Had she gone astray in her crafting of this new series?
If so, what did this mean for her decision to move from writing young adult romance to mystery and suspense?
This author, a huge bestseller in the mystery and thriller genre, had judged her story wanting.
She massaged the back of her neck with her hand. Dammit, she didn’t have time to stress over this today. At least not right now.
Another check of the clock revealed she now had only an hour to get ready and meet Cleo. God, she always ended up running late, even when she tried to plan ahead. At least she’d washed her hair last night.
She’d answer Henry’s email later today.
Dressing in a pair of jeans and simple white t-shirt, London threw on a beaded glass necklace in different shades of blue with matching drop earrings and gathered up her supplies as instructed by Cleo. After loading her large rolling carry-on bag into her yellow VW Bug, she drove from her gran’s house in Green Lake to downtown Seattle and parked half a block from A New Chapter. With a relieved sigh, she wheeled the suitcase into the bookstore right on the dot of 10:30 a.m.
Cleo Washington stood near a display of Dr. Seuss books arranged around a giant red and white hat. Her violet colored eyes shined at the sight of London. “Look at my girl, all ready to play Cinderella.” She laughed and slung her handbag over her arm. “You ready for this?”
“No.” London chuckled. “Cinderella is about right. Am I crazy for allowing you to talk me into today?” Hiring a personal stylist? Wasn’t that for authors who signed million dollar contracts?
With a wave of her hand, Cleo dismissed London’s fears. “Girl, you’re going to be on TV. It’s not every day a local station covers a book signing at the store I manage.”
London had to chuckle at her friend’s reasoning. “True, but the station’s doing a news story about local authors. I’m just one of five they picked. The segments they’re filming about me may not even end up on TV.”
“Maybe so, but I’ve hired a photographer to take shots the night of the show. They’ll be great for the store’s website and promo material, so you’ll need to look your most glamorous. And before you ask, you can use whatever pictures you want. The photographer’s fee is a tax write-off for the store’s owner.”
Write-off or not, that was a generous offer. “Great, thanks so much.” London would let her mom know she was no longer on photo duty. “I can’t believe Jinx Malone agreed to see me on a Sunday.”
Cleo smiled. “Jinx works whatever hours she pleases, and Sunday fitted her best, so it all worked out.”
“London, you read my email?” a male voice asked from behind her.
She turned to see Henry Banks walking toward her. Wearing jeans and a black polo shirt, his exceptionally neat short hair and overall tidy appearance was a trademark of the author.
“Hey, Henry,” she greeted him. Standing at around London’s height of 5 feet 4 inches, Henry seemed short when standing next to Cleo, who was a good three inches taller. “Yeah, I was running late this morning, and was going to reply later. How about we meet up next Friday? Wednesday’s my book signing, and I’m rushing to get some more chapters of my new story finished before I ask you to read it for me.”
Henry looked to the side, likely thinking through his schedule. “That works. I’ve got some questions for you regarding a female character, and need your viewpoint, but they can wait until then.” Typical Henry, his mind focused solely on his ‘world’.
“I know publicity isn’t your thing, but you’re more than welcome at my signing on Wednesday. Maybe stay for a drink?”
“It would be fun to have you here, Henry.” Cleo encouraged.
He stepped back, as if needing distance from the very idea of socializing. “No, but,”—he shrugged—“thank you.”
London hid her smile. The fact the socially inept, genius author had thanked her was a huge win.
She nodded at the book in his hand. “New Zealand, huh? You thinking of traveling there one day?”
He frowned as he regarded the book. “Picked it up from the travel section.” He nodded toward the back of the store. “Fascinating place, New Zealand. I’ve always wanted to go there. Peter Jackson no doubt doubled the country’s tourism,” Henry said, referring to the director of the Lord of the Rings films which had been filmed in New Zealand. “It’s so far away. I’d be on a plane with so many people. For hours.”
London bit back a laugh. “Yep, but hey, we’ve got to chase our dreams, Henry. I should go hunt down a travel book on Italy. I sometimes imagine spending a month in a villa on Lake Como and writing the next great novel.” She reached out and playfully smacked his arm. “Don’t give up on the dream, buddy. You’ll get there one day.”
“I don’t think so. This is going back.” He nodded to her and Cleo, before heading farther back into the store.
“I’ll admit that guy knows how to write an amazing thriller, but his social skills are non-existent.” Cleo muttered softly to London.
“Aw, you’ve just got to get to know him and look past his…quirks.”
Cleo rolled her eyes. She grabbed the handle of the rolling carry-on bag and looked over her shoulder at the staff member on duty. “Frankie, you set here? Drew’s in the back room unpacking new stock.”
“You bet.” The clerk smiled as she rang up a customer’s purchase. “Have fun.”
Once on the street, the women made their way to Seven Dishes. Cleo’s black hair shone in the sunshine. London had to admit a stab of envy at the stunning simplicity of Cleo’s outfit of simple black pants and a tan colored shirt set off with a turquoise necklace.
Hmm, maybe she should dig out some of her old necklaces she hadn’t worn in ages. Didn’t she have some turquoise, too? Of course it was likely buried in the tangled strands of jewelry she had in the vintage glass bowl on her dresser. She’d have to get them sorted. One day.
“All you have to do to show your appreciation for me setting up today is buy me coffee.” Cleo nodded to the entrance of Seven Dishes. “And a pastry. Or a cupcake. I’m not sure which yet. I’ll know when I see all the goodies.”
London grinned. “No problem. I was going to offer anyway. Do you think Jinx would like some too?” she asked as they entered.
“Absolutely. She’s addicted to Harper’s coffee.”
At the mention of the storeowner’s name, London’s smile disappeared. “God, her dad was murdered.’ The story had been on the news non-stop. “The poor woman.” London didn’t know Harper well, only to smile and say hello when she’d visited the café with Cleo, but the bubbly brunette had always been friendly.
Cleo’s mouth turned down. “Yeah, it’s been rough. I spoke to her last night.”
With perfect timing, Harper Fox exited the café’s kitchen area. Her gaze landed on Cleo, but the smile that usually reached her eyes was clouded by the shadow of grief.
“Cleo.” Harper walked from behind the staff only area over to her friend and gave her a hug. A ghost of a smile crossed her face as she nodded to London. “Hi, London. You guys in for coffee?”
“To go. We’re—”
“London,” a deep voice said from behind, inadvertently interrupting Cleo.
London turned.
Heath Justice, the central figure of her late night dreams, stood behind her with another, equally tall man. Both of them were dressed in t-shirts, jeans, and boots, and had attracted the gazes of more than a few women in the café.
While the other man’s brown-blond waves and square jaw were attractive, it was the darker haired detective who stole her attention.
“Heath.” She smiled, hoping she managed to hide the flurry of nerves sweeping over her. What was it about this guy that made her so hyperaware of her own actions? “You here for the coffee? Seven Dishes is the best.” She cringed inwardly. Lord, she sounded like a cheesy spokesperson, but the words kept coming. “The food’s great too. You should try the stroganoff. It’s my favorite.” God, why didn’t she shut up? “Isn’t it, Cleo?”
She swung her gaze to her friend, who stared at her with slightly wide eyes.
“Is that so?” A faint hint of amusement underlined Heath’s comment.
“Heath, I haven’t seen you since Harper’s last dinner party.” Cleo flicked her now curious gaze between London and Heath. “You two know each other?”
“Met last Thursday,” Heath answered for them. “Her brother Derek and I work together. And speaking of family...” He nodded toward the man who had been beside him and had stepped to Harper’s side, resting a muscled arm across her shoulders. London noted the way Harper leaned into the big man, seemingly gaining comfort from their contact. “London, this is Seth, my younger brother.”
Seth wore an easy smile. “Great to meet you, London.”
“Hi.” She smiled back, then looked to Heath. “It’s so cool you know Cleo and Harper. Small world.”
He dipped his head slightly to one side. “Have you seen Derek lately?”
“No, nor any of the family. Last couple of days, I’ve locked myself away in my writing den, working on my new series.” Oh, gosh that sounded so glib considering Harper’s troubles. She reached out and gently squeezed the woman’s hand before letting go. “Honey, I’m so sorry about your dad.”
Harper nodded, her voice husky as she whispered her thanks.
“What are you doing today?” Cleo rubbed a hand along her friend’s arm.
Harper shrugged. “Hanging around the apartment. I spent yesterday and last night with Mom. Sienna’s with her today.”
So she’d be alone, caught up in her thoughts. “Maybe...”—London bit her lip as Harper glanced her way—“I don’t know if you’re interested, but Jinx is playing fairy godmother to my Cinderella today and waving her stylist magic wand over me. Cleo’s coming too. If you want to join us…” She left the offer hanging.
Harper’s gaze brightened, before she looked to the side. “I don’t know if—”
“A few hours with your girlfriends is a great idea,” Seth encouraged. “Heath and I will be with Adam. I’d feel happier knowing you weren’t by yourself upstairs.”
Harper glanced up at Seth before facing London. A hint of a smile eased the sorrow from her features. “I’d like to come. Thanks, London.”
“Excellent. First, I need to order coffee and cake.” She moved around everyone to get to the counter, aware Heath had followed her.
She forced herself to stand still as she studied the treats in the glass cabinet. All the while, tingles raced up her arm at her nearness to Heath’s body.
He bent to get a better look at the lower shelves bearing portions of cake and tarts. “Hard to choose what looks best,” he mused. Still leaning over, he turned his head so their gazes collided at near eye level. “Do you have a weakness?”
Her pulse stuttered. He meant cake. She swallowed. Heath’s gaze flicked to her throat, then kicked up to her face. He straightened and waited for her answer.
Taking her time, she surveyed the case. “I like the lemon poppy seed cake.”
Heath’s hooded gaze made a lazy study of her face. “Not too sweet. You like some bite with your sugar.”
The sound of the rich timbre of his voice as he said bite—as if promising a dangerously wonderful endeavor— sent a ripple of excitement through her. Even so, she couldn’t let him win this game of wits that easily. “Sometimes, but sweetness encourages a person to take more.”
“True. However, challenging yourself with a different taste is all part of those new experiences you lectured me about when we first met.”
Touché. Two could play this game. “Too much bite and everything tastes sour.”
He smiled. A slow, devastatingly sexy smile that made her toes curl in her leather sandals. She really, really hoped he hadn’t noticed.
“You’re an interesting woman, London Shaw.”
“I am?” Damn, her voice sounded all breathy.
“You are.” His gaze swept over her, lingering on her face. “Fair warning, Red. I plan on getting to know you better.”
A thrill of anticipation raced through her body.
Exactly what did his idea of ‘getting to know you’ entail? A date? Long walks in the country? Handcuffs?
For a second, she wondered if it was a good idea. Okay, two seconds. Three at the most. “I’m okay with that.”
He treated her to another slow smile, and oh yeah, she totally curled her toes. This time not caring if he saw her do so.
Cleo appeared at her side. “Harper’s going upstairs to get her purse, then she’ll join us outside. She and Jinx have lattes, no sugar. I’m an Americano.”
“Great.” London cleared her throat and reminded herself she and Heath weren’t alone in some dimly lit restaurant.
Powering on like the trouper she was, she smiled at the young woman who came to serve her. Wasn’t her name Abby? The barista always wore the cutest outfits, which reflected her fun personality. Today’s was no different with a formfitting sky blue t-shirt teamed with a bib-n-braces shorts in the same soft shade of pink as her Alice headband. London loved seeing someone living life with such a sense of joy.
“Hi there. I’ll have two lattes, one Americano, one cappuccino and”—London turned to Heath and Seth—“what about you guys?”
Heath answered. “Two Americanos, thanks.”
London nodded and faced Abby. “Two more Americanos. All large sizes and to go, please.”
Abby scribbled their orders down and handed them to another server at the coffee machine. “Anything else?”
London glanced at the guys. Both shook their heads. Lightweights. “Four slices of cake, whatever you choose, Abby, and please make one lemon poppy seed, thanks.” She ignored the soft chuckle beside her and glanced at a big clear jar on the counter. “Oh, and four of those M&M cookies too.”
“Great choice.” Abby boxed the treats and rang up her purchases.
London opened her purse, but Heath stepped in and handed Abby some money.
“I’m paying,” London insisted.
“No. I pay or Seth pays. Those are the choices. It was my turn.” Heath accepted his change from Abby, dropping a couple of bills in the tip jar before returning his wallet to the back pocket of his jeans.
London blinked at Heath. “I didn’t agree to those choices.”
“Consider it one of my rigid outlooks on life.” Heath quoted her words from their first encounter. And judging by the untroubled look on his face, he wasn’t offended by the memory, simply determined to have his way.
Mr. Black and White with no room for interpretation.
Abby appeared with one tray holder containing four coffees and a second with two on their own. “Here you go.” She handed them to Seth, who had reached out. With a quick smile, she moved to the next customer.
Before London knew it, she was outside, holding a box of cake, while Seth handed over the tray of four coffees to Harper.
The younger Justice brother dropped a kiss on Harper’s lips. “Call me when you’re finished. Depending on where we’re at, we’ll work something out about dinner.”
London couldn’t forget her good manners. “Thanks for the coffee and cake, Heath.” He’d insisted on paying against her wishes, but it was a thoughtful gesture.
“My pleasure.” He stepped closer, enough that he was all big and tall and in her space but not touching her. “Sometimes a man wants to pay because that’s how he sees his role, and sometimes it’s because he wants to buy a pretty girl some cake.” His voice lowered as his gaze held hers. “The kind with the perfect amount of bite.”
Her breath caught. All she could see was his face—the strong lines of his cheekbones and jaw, and the faintest silvery line of a one inch scar near his left eyebrow.
“Have a great day, Cinderella.”
Then he turned and disappeared with Seth through the entrance to the apartments above the café.
She stared after him for what seemed ages only to become aware of her companions’ silence—and their openly curious stares. Yikes. She tried some rousing enthusiasm to divert their attention. “Let’s get this day started. House of Jade here we come!”
Harper stared back, her eyebrows raised.
Cleo made a scoffing sound in her throat. “You met Heath last Thursday, huh? Prepare to share those details later, girlfriend.”
Yeeeeaah. So much for the distraction.
London followed the two women across the street and past a couple of storefronts, stopping as they reached the shiny black door with the brass plaque on the side stating, ‘House of Jade’.
As Cleo pushed the door’s button to summon Jinx, Harper leaned in close to London. “If it’s any consolation, you coped well with Heath just then.” This time, her smile reached her eyes, showing the lightheartedness that had been buried under sorrow. “I can personally attest to the power of the Justice brothers’ brand of shock and awe.”
Shock and awe. What a perfect description for the way Heath’s commanding stare and words had destroyed her resistance and left her a mess of need and fascination.
The question was, what defense would she launch…and did she want to?
****
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Heath said as he, Seth and Adam sat at the breakfast bar of Seth’s old apartment not thirty minutes after they had left the women at Seven Dishes.
Adam had taken over the lease a month ago, right after Seth moved in with Harper. Not only was it convenient for all involved, but the kitchen’s black marble breakfast bar also provided Adam with a working area as he made plans to get his private investigations company up and running. The coffee table and black leather lounge Seth had left behind were covered with neat piles of paper, brochures for office equipment and other sundry paraphernalia for setting up a business.
Now all Adam needed was an office, since he already had a client.
And speaking of Adam’s first client, Heath couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
“Elizabeth Fox handed her husband’s journal over to you? No provisos, no demands in exchange for this information?” Whatever was contained within those pages could prove a goldmine to the investigation.
“None.” Adam dropped the photocopied document in front of him. “She led me into her husband’s study Thursday morning, opened a secret compartment to his desk, and handed me the journal. Your colleagues were interviewing Fox’s lawyer and about to start searching the house, so I left and had a party with a Xerox machine.”
“Jesus, Adam—”
His oldest brother cut him off. “Once I had my copies, I handed over the original to Tollison.”
Good. Heath didn’t want to have to bail his brother out of jail.
But a question remained unanswered. “How did Elizabeth know where the journal was? She stated to Tollison she wasn’t aware of any of Fox’s dealings.”
“Her husband had shown her where the journal was kept.” Seth gave a derisive smile. “He warned her if anything ever happened to him—legal or otherwise—to move the journal someplace safe, out of the house. I guess he thought of it as his insurance policy. He could use it to blackmail others to get him out of whatever shit he’d fallen into.”
“And she was never tempted to read it for herself?”
Adam shook his head. “Elizabeth Fox is a smart woman. I’m betting instinct told her she was better off keeping her distance from her husband’s affairs.”
What you don’t know can’t hurt you? Heath knew that assumption didn’t always prove true. “So what’s in the journal?”
“Dates. Amounts of money. I can’t make out everything—yet.” Adam’s mouth hardened. “He used a code for people and businesses dealings. Seth’s working with Sienna’s husband, Lance, to try to decipher the details. Tollison’s got a team doing the same. We know Fox invested in a nightclub but no idea why. The rumor is there’s a tie-in with the Russian mafia and money laundering, but we have no proof.”
Heath would check with Kennedy and Faulkner to make sure they were kept in the loop. “Any news on the replacement chauffer?”
“None.”
Seth’s flat tone said it all. Either the guy was back behind enemy lines or possibly dead.
Heath leaned his forearms on the dark marble breakfast bar. “The coroner put Fox’s time of death between ten and midnight Wednesday night. His wife last saw him at 8 p.m. Wednesday before he left with his chauffer for a meeting. She happened to be standing on the second floor near a window that looks out onto the front drive. She didn’t recognize the car he left in.” He looked at both men. “I checked with Kennedy at the station. He told me we lost CCTV of the vehicle when they drove out to the suburbs. The car hasn’t appeared on any cameras or tollways since.”
Seth tossed his pen onto the scattering of papers before him. “Since his body was dumped in the city, we can assume he was driven out of the city in one car and back in another. Whether he was alive for the return journey we don’t know.”
Seth rose and stretched his arms above his head, hands clasped, facing the ceiling. They hadn’t been working for more than an hour, but Heath understood; his brother was frustrated.
Adam, trained to wait out his enemy, cast a concerned glance at Heath. Their kid brother had been through a rough couple of days on top of a rough month before Fox’s death. Life had been a bitch for their family these past five weeks.
“How’s Harper today?” Adam stood and went to get more coffee from the pot on the counter.
“Emotionally exhausted.” Seth’s mouth twisted. “But I’m hoping she’ll have fun today.” His gaze landed on Heath, and a gleam entered his eyes—one Heath didn’t trust. “She’ll be pumping London for information. That’ll give her a new mission.”
Adam frowned. “London? Information?”
Heath sighed. Would Harper forgive him if Seth came back with a black eye?
“Well?” Adam demanded.
“London’s the younger sister of my new partner, Derek Shaw. We met at their parents’ house last Thursday. Not long before I got the call about Fox.” He might as well share all the details before Seth annoyed him and Adam to the point one of them produced a gun. “I like her. I’m interested and made it known to London. Harper saw that unfold this morning.”
Adam grunted, clearly indicating he’d processed his brother’s dating aspirations and had moved on. “And London’s a friend of Harper’s?” Adam asked.
“No.” Then again… “Yes, likely after today. I think they know each other through Cleo, and since they’re spending a few hours together at Jinx’s salon doing girl shit, I’m betting they’ll all be best friends with London by the second glass of wine.”
Adam nodded, having seen Cleo, Jinx and Harper together a number of times since Seth and Harper hooked up. “Your partner’s sister? Christ, you and Seth know how to choose women with complicated family connections.”
“I doubt Derek has veto power over who London dates.” He remembered the way she had stood defiant in front of her brother when cornered outside their parent’s garage. “But I’m aware I need to tread with care.”
If privacy and time had allowed last Thursday, Heath would have pressed harder with London, asked more questions, found out what brought a smile to her face. After all, he’d already broken the ice earlier that morning.
What else was left?
Draw your gun on a woman. Cuff her. Ask her out on a date.
A good plan.
Adam glanced at Heath as he poured his coffee. His expression gave nothing away. His dry tone was another matter. “Still, it will be amusing to sit back and watch you navigate the fine line of working with Derek while dating his kid sister.”
And it would be equally amusing to Heath to punch his older brother in the mouth. And hey, a bonus for Adam, any blood wouldn’t show up much on his navy t-shirt, saving the bastard on laundry.
Seth shook his head. “Bro, you’re assuming she agrees to date him. London may shoot Heath down in a flaming ball of rejection that could burn for weeks to come.” Any idea of brotherly concern for Heath was negated by Seth’s shit-stirring grin.
Brothers. Who’d have them?
“Obviously if that happens, you two will be the first I call to commiserate.” Heath shook his head. “In the meantime, share with me what you know as fact in this journal.” Today was his day off, but with so many resources tied into Fox’s investigation, he and Derek were on call. The women would take what...four, maybe five hours before they wrapped things up at Jinx’s salon. He wanted to get back to the café before they went home. Time to press for an advantage. London was his target, surprise his weapon.
And Heath was known for his deadly aim.
****
London scanned the inner sanctum of Jinx Malone’s salon. A crystal chandelier shone down on a tres chic jade velvet loveseat complete with gold metal edging.
London’s gaze had been drawn to the gorgeous furniture all day.
Seriously, Jinx did glamour like no one else London had ever met.
Right now, though, it was judgment time. London bit her lip as Jinx stepped back and assessed her with a professional eye.
Finally, after what seemed an age, the stylist declared, “Definitely this one. Indigo is your color.”
“I agree.” Harper lifted her glass of wine as if making a toast.
“Me too.” Cleo followed suit with her wine.
Hallelujah!
London sagged in relief. What had it been, two hours on her outfit? As she glanced at herself in the full-length mirror, she had to agree with Jinx’s choice. The top with full-length sleeves had a deep V-neckline, and the silky material gathered at the sides provided a flattering detail over her belly. The black skirt with a long slit up the side was more daring than she’d usually wear, and certainly was slimming and gave her shape.
“I love this outfit.” London stared at her reflection before glancing back at Jinx. “Are you sure about loaning me the top?”
Jinx rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.” She moved to stand behind London and gazed toward the mirror. “With your pale skin and gorgeous copper hair, you have to be careful to find a look that complements both elements.” Narrowing her gaze, she studied London. “Blues, greens, purples, and warm neutrals. Those all work for you. Avoid yellow and orange.”
“What about her hair? Up or down?” Harper leaned forward from her place on the loveseat.
“She’ll be sitting down most of the time signing books, so normally, I’d suggest put it up to add length to her neck, but her hair’s so thick”—Jinx ran her hands through London’s wavy strands, which fell to mid-way down her back—“I’m thinking we leave it down and show off the fullness. Think Charlie’s Angels ’70s goddess. We can use a lightweight styling product without killing the ozone with hairspray.”
“I like doing my bit for the environment.” London grinned, also thankful she wouldn’t have to de-gunk her hair with five washes the next day.
Jinx grinned and guided London to a barber’s chair upholstered in a gorgeous shade of jade green. In front of the chair was a marble counter topped with a mirror edged with lights. “Now we get to have some serious fun.” She gently pressed London into the chair and began opening drawers, which were divided into smaller compartments and filled with makeup of every shade and description. “Harper, bring the bubbly. Cleo, grab those mini quiches Abby delivered. We need sustenance.”
The women did as instructed. In the back of her mind, London questioned whether a third glass of Champagne was a good idea. Maybe one more and then she’d restrict herself to Pellegrino for the rest of the day. Even then, with her slow metabolism, she’d likely need to get a taxi home.
Jinx used large clips to sweep London’s hair away from her face. “I have all your books, except for the most recent. I’m saving that one for Wednesday night. I don’t know if Cleo told you, but I’m a super fan of your writing.”
London glanced over at her friend who faced away from the mirror, her backside against the marble counter. “She kept that to herself.”
Jinx, who had lined up five bottles of pale colored foundation, turned to Cleo. “You didn’t say?”
“I wanted what is about to come out of your mouth to be a surprise.” Cleo popped a mini quiche in her mouth and handed the plate to London, who did the same.
“Ah, I see.” Jinx began dabbing a small dot of foundation from each bottle on London’s face. “Since I qualify for super fan status, I’ve decided to give you this session free.”
London gasped. “I wasn’t expecting a freebie.” Jinx was the stylist to Seattle’s A-list. Cleo had hinted she’d negotiated a discount rate—the only reason London had been able to agree to today. But free?
Jinx’s face warmed with her smile. “I know.” She gently swept more foundation toward London’s jawline. “I’m excited to play a part in making your book signing special. And”—she broke off and wiped her fingers with a Kleenex—“you can sign my copies of your books.”
“It would be my pleasure.” A groundswell of happiness swept through London. “Thank you so much, Jinx.” What a generous act. She would make sure Jinx received a signed copy of her latest and any other books that followed.
“No worries.” The stylist tilted her head to the side and studied London’s face. “Hmm, I’m thinking ivory with pink undertones No. 1. The No. 2 is a smidge too dark.”
“Perfect match.” Harper declared as she joined Jinx and handed London her third glass of bubbly. “You skin is gorgeous, London. I’ve always wanted that translucent pale look.”
Seriously? London would kill for Harper’s sun-kissed skin tone.
“So what’s this new series about?” Jinx asked. She paused from dabbing on more foundation when London bit her lip. “Sorry, I guess it was rude of me to ask. You probably keep that stuff secret.”
London rushed to reassure her. “No, that’s not it.” She glanced at Cleo, who, well aware of London’s new project, gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m just…” Panicking? Scared shitless? “…nervous about this new series.”
“Are you each time you start a new book?”
“No.” She frowned. “Well, yes, although this time, it’s different.” Jinx and Harper didn’t push, and London could have hugged them for their understanding. Maybe it would be good to hear what others outside of her family and best friend thought? “I’m changing up my writing. Taking a break from YA.” She nearly stopped at Jinx’s raised eyebrow. Just say it. “I’m writing a murder suspense. Hoping to turn this into a new series.”
She waited as Jinx blinked, but it was Harper who broke the silence. “That’s so freaking cool.” The café owner dragged a swivel chair and sat down. “I love it when people take chances.”
“You do?” London couldn’t keep the hopefulness out of her voice.
“Sure.” Harper agreed. “Sometimes a girl has to take risks.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Life’s too short not to explore our dreams.” She leveled her steady gaze at London. “You’re nervous about this change? Why?”
London puffed out a breath. “Where do I start? My agent says it’s a mistake. My readers could abandon me if they hate the book…if they even give a new genre a try.”
“You’ve got to back yourself.” Jinx’s firm tone matched the way she straightened her posture. “The same way you believed you could get your first book published. This is no different.”
“But this is how I make my living. I have more to lose.” London reasoned.
“And even more to gain.” Jinx countered. “New readers. A new market. Feeling challenged and fulfilled.” Jinx lifted her flute of Champagne and sipped. “I worked in a dress shop for years and had a boss who knew nothing about fashion and styling telling me I was wrong every time I suggested something new for the store. I saved money, built my contacts on the side and slowly hired myself out in the few spare hours I had left each week. I’m proud I helped women feel good about themselves and gave a boost to their confidence, and at the same time, strengthened my own self-esteem. I could have quit my dream of one day working for myself a hundred times over, but then I would’ve been forced to look back and ask, What if?”
Cleo groaned. “The ‘what if’ scenario is my nightmare. I never want to be in that position if I can help it.”
Neither did London. Maybe she needed to follow Jinx’s advice. Back herself.
“My dad never believed in me.” Harper’s soft whisper cut through the room as she gazed unseeing across the space. “Not once.” Her eyes pooled with tears, and London sat forward, grabbing one of her hands while Jinx wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “My sister, my mom, too, liked the idea of Seven Dishes, but Dad thought it was horrible. Told me so repeatedly.” A sob caught in her throat. “I wish—” She broke off, tears pouring down her cheeks. “I w-wish j-just once—”
“Oh, honey.” London looked for a place to rest her champagne flute. Cleo grabbed it and Jinx’s flute too as the women comforted Harper. Jinx held her friend tight, while London reached over and nabbed a handful of spare Kleenexes, passing them to Harper. She squeezed the sobbing woman’s knee. “God, I’m sorry to bring the conversation down.”
Harper hiccupped her answer. “N-no, I’ve needed to get this out, but I couldn’t in front of Mom and Sienna.”
Cleo mouthed the words ‘her sister’ and London nodded.
“He was m-my dad.” Harper sobbed. “I d-didn’t like him as a person, b-but he was still my dad.” The last words came out ripped on a note of anguish.
London blinked through her own tears, and watched helplessly as Jinx held her best friend while sobs wracked Harper’s body.
A few minutes later, emotionally spent, Harper quieted to the occasional hitched breath and wiped her eyes.
London’s heart broke for such a generous, loving woman as Harper. She couldn’t begin to comprehend what it must have been like having a father who didn’t fully encourage her in her endeavors. Throughout her life, London had always known her dad loved her. Without question.
And what kind of asshole never uttered a word of support to his child, especially one like Harper who had achieved her dream of running a café?
Sure, London shouldn’t think ill of the dead, but Fox sounded like he was one self-centered bastard.
Jinx held Harper at arm’s length and gave her friend a lopsided grin. “You’re lucky we hadn’t started London’s eye-makeup, or I’d be so furious right now.”
Harper glanced up to catch London gently using a Kleenex on her eyes.
Jinx’s joking admonishment was the pressure release. All four women chuckled and dabbed at their tears.
Once resettled with a glass of bubbly, Harper glanced over at London.
“Since you’ve confessed your secret about your writing, sharing with us about Heath will be a cinch.”
London’s jaw dropped. Sneaky!
Cleo coughed out a laugh as she struggled to swallow her mouthful of drink.
“Heath?” Jinx glanced between the all three women. “As in a-girl-so-wants-to-be- patted-down-by-him, Detective Heath Justice?”
Harper nodded. “The one and only.”
Jinx fixed her gaze on London. “Tell us everything.” She held the bottle of foundation—ivory with pink undertones No. 1 to be exact—to her chest, as if withholding its contents on condition of imparting information.
Cleo pulled up a chair, parked her backside on said chair, and stared at London.
Shoot. There was nothing for it except to get this over with.
“I met him last Thursday morning outside of my parents’ house. He thought I was breaking into their garage and he, uh...” —she closed her eyes briefly before rushing out the last few words—“he was going to arrest me.”
Three pairs of eyes grew wide. Total silence lasted all of two seconds.
“Oh my, God!”
“That’s so freaking hot.”
“You mean handcuffs and everything?”
She gazed directly at Jinx and nodded. “He threatened to hogtie me with his belt.”
Cleo gasped. “Holy shit.”
Jinx’s mouth dropped before a huge smile spread over her face. “You’re now my idol.”
“This was so worth the wait,” Harper whispered before she bit into a mini quiche.
“He’s always struck me as the quiet kind of action guy. Not macho in an overbearing way, but totally hot.” Cleo grabbed her flute of bubbly and took a gulp.
“He’s got the stare thing going on. Kind of like my Seth, but different. I think it’s the added cop factor.” Harper shared a smile with London. “And he actually thought you were breaking into your parents’ house?”
“Their garage to be exact. I was researching how to jimmy a lock for the new book.” She rolled her eyes.
Jinx lifted her glass in a toast. “Let’s hear it for research.”
London’s laugh matched her friends, and three more glasses were raised high.
“And new adventures.” Cleo added, her gaze on London. “They’re not worth doing unless they’re a bit scary.”
“True.” London agreed softly.
Three hours later, London had changed back into her clothes she’d worn from home and packed her “signing outfit” into her rolling carry-on bag. With her face expertly made up from Jinx’s earlier experiments, she and her three friends exited Jinx’s salon.
“I can’t believe I have to go back to the store.” Cleo sighed. “But I promised the guys I’d sign off the new stock order for them.” She glanced at London’s rolling carry-on bag. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, I’m not drunk, just playing it safe.” London assured them. There was no happy alcoholic buzz, or dizziness. “I’ll ask one of my brothers to take a taxi here and then drive my car.”
“No need,” a man said from behind her. “I’ll drive you home.”
She turned to find Heath, looking as gorgeous as he had five hours ago, standing three feet away. Once again, Seth was at his side.
Jeez, what was it with Heath managing to appear from nowhere?
London chose to ignore the way Harper pressed her lips together as if to stop herself from laughing. “Thanks, but I can’t leave my car where it is.”
“Seth can park it behind Harper’s building. They have space.”
“Sure.” Seth came forward and held out his hand for the keys, not giving her a chance to decline.
She couldn’t keep her car on the street all night, and this would save asking one of her brothers. That’s if they were available. And Heath lived in Green Lake, so the drive wasn’t out of his way.
“Okay, thanks.” She dug into her tote and handed over her keys to Seth.
After telling him the details and location of her car, he nodded. “No worries. Come into the café tomorrow and collect the keys.”
“You bet. Thanks, again.”
“Anyone else need a ride?” Heath checked.
Cleo and Jinx both declined and made their goodbyes.
Harper hugged London. “I’ve had fun. Thank you.” After an extra squeeze, she stepped back.
“You’ve got my number now. Anytime you need a break, call.”
“I will. See you Wednesday night.” With a wave, she and Seth crossed the street before Seth headed off in the direction of her car and Harper entered Seven Dishes.
“You look gorgeous, London. Did you have a good day?” Heath reached across her to grab the handle of her rolling carry-on bag.
“I did.” She followed him as he unlocked a black SUV two cars down and stopped at the back passenger door. “And just like in Vegas, what happens during a stylist session stays in the salon.”
His voice was a dark, rich baritone she felt deep in her bones. “I bet I could make you confess.”
Her stomach dropped.
He stared at her, waiting, blue eyes full of challenge. And she wanted to accept. To dare him. The words were on the tip of her tongue. She opened her mouth—
The sharp honk of a horn made her jump. She caught sight of a driver giving the finger to another as they continued down 1st Avenue.
A reality check?
She decided it was safer to open the front passenger door and climb in.
Heath deposited her case on the backseat and then joined her up front. In seconds, they’d merged with the late afternoon traffic.
“What’s your address, Red?”
She smiled a touch at his name for her and answered.
“Huh, you’re only three blocks from me. I’m on 63rd Street.”
“Really?” She must have driven past his house at some point.
The rest of the drive went quickly. Heath shared stories of the renovations to his house, including the time he and his second oldest brother, Zach, managed to nearly flood the house when he had wrongfully assumed Zach had turned off the water before they’d pulled out the old bathroom fixtures. According to Heath, the only one left laughing was Zach’s five-year-old daughter, Milly, who’d organized her babies to have a pool party in Heath’s hallway.
London turned her head to face Heath. “So is Zach the only one of your brothers with a child?”
“Yeah, but there’s no wife.” Heath spoke with enough feeling London was in no doubt he wasn’t sad about the fact. “The bitch dumped Milly with Zach when the baby was only three months. Took off with another biker and hasn’t been in touch since.”
Abandoned her baby? Another biker? So Zach was a biker? And Heath a cop? Weren’t those lifestyles at odds with each other? Not that she knew anything about bikers beyond what she’d read in romance novels.
“Your brother’s a biker?”
“He looks like one and rides a Harley, but he isn’t a member of a club.”
“And then there’s Adam.”
“Ex-black ops commando. He’s started his own specialized security firm.” He shrugged. “I’m guessing that’s what you’d call his new enterprise, but private investigator fits too. A mixture of both. Seth’s his computer guru. He had his own company until a month ago. Sold it to Stanton Fox for a fortune.”
“Is that how he and Harper met?”
“Yeah.” Heath cast a quick look her way before turning his gaze back to the road. “You didn’t know?”
“Nope. I knew Harper to say hello and chat with when Cleo and I visited Seven Dishes. I know her much better after today.” She shrugged. “I think we’re on the way to being good friends.”
He smiled, and seeing his pleasure at such an idea had her mouth lifting at the corners too.
Heath turned into her street and, in a moment, parked outside her home.
Did he want to come in for a coffee? A meal? A kiss? Okay, the last was a mixture of nerves and wish fulfillment, but these were the moments she usually bungled when it came to dates. Not that this was a date. Heath was simply giving her a lift home.
One he’d insisted on making happen.
Heath pulled out his keys. “I’ll get your case.”
“Okay.” Was he inviting himself in or simply being polite?
She made her way to the front door and unlocked it, by which time Heath had joined her, put his hand on her hip, and gently eased her into the wide front foyer.
Clearly no doorstep goodbye.
She dropped her keys into the small dish on the hall table and turned to face him. Heath’s gaze was locked on the pile of unopened mail next to her keys.
“Not a fan of opening your mail?” He switched his gaze to her face, with a bemused expression.
“The urgent stuff, sure, but I don’t panic and open everything right away. Sometimes I leave stuff for a week.”
Heath stared at her, his mouth and jaw a little slack. “How can you stand not knowing what’s in the envelope? What if it’s important and you guessed wrong?”
She shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll find out sooner or later, won’t I?”
He slowly shook his head. “You really are a creature of chaos, aren’t you?”
His tone was one of frustration. As if he’d been hoping the news wasn’t so but the evidence now couldn’t be denied.
Not everyone wanted to live by a boring routine. “And you’re Mr. Rules and Regulations.”
“Hey.” He frowned, his tone full of affront. “I have as much fun as the next guy. I just like order in my life.”
She snorted. “Right. I bet you have your meals planned out for the week.” No reaction. Hmm, maybe… “Or maybe you like to keep everything tidy? Everything in its place.” He went to speak before pressing his lips together. Gotcha. “Why don’t you try living life on the edge and leave your trash can out for two days in a row.”
His gaze flashed with annoyance.
“Just the idea drives you crazy, doesn’t it?” she teased.
He looked to the heavens before settling his gaze back on her. “You are the most maddening woman I’ve ever met.”
“You don’t have to stay, Detective.”
A gleam entered his eyes, one she didn’t trust.
“I’m more than ready to live life on the edge, London.” He moved into her space, backing her against the wall without touching her.
Her pulse raced. She tilted her head back. His handsome face, broad chest, and muscular shoulders filled her view. The scent of his aftershave—mountains in summer—teased her senses. “Oh, really?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. Keeping up with your contrary nature is going to turn my hair gray.”
“That’s if I allow you to hang around long enough to turn into a silver fox.” Her mind filled with an image of Heath, a slash of salt gray at his temples. Nice.
His deep laugh echoed in the hallway. “I’m going to have to make a stronger impression on you, Red, so you don’t banish me.” A stronger impression? When he already had her thinking of him way too much? “Maybe I should get started on that mission right away?”
She blinked. “Uh—”
His mouth captured hers, wonderfully, firmly, not giving her a chance to object. His arms closed around her, drawing her tight against him. Her lips parted, allowing his tongue to sweep inside to taste and explore.
A thrill of pleasure raced through her. She softened against him, complying with his dominance as her fingers explored the hardness of his muscled chest.
Strong. Unyielding even. Warmth spread through her body, centering low in her belly, then lower, between her legs.
She kissed him back as her hands fisted the dark cotton of his t-shirt. An intoxicating blend of need and curiosity drove her to press harder, demand more. She grabbed at his hair.
Heath growled and nipped her lower lip. He wrapped a hand in her hair and pulled, forcing her head back. His voice was hard, commanding. “I’m in charge.”
Her core clenched at his show of authority.
She lowered her hands back to his chest, and slowly, he lessened his grip on her hair while still keeping his hold. And knowing he could once more pull on her hair and deny her his mouth thrilled her. To give him such power seemed wrong and bad and so…so sexy.
The shrill note of his phone ringing crashed into their shared intimacy.
“Jesus.” He reached into his back pocket, but his other hand cupped the side of her face, keeping them connected, intimate. “One moment, London.” He scanned the caller ID and cursed. “I gotta take this.” Another kiss, then he stepped away, his back to her.
London leaned against the wall and inhaled a steadying breath. Kissing had always been nice, even lovely. And never before had she pulled a man’s head down and demanded more, not so soon. With Heath, on the other hand… This man was a whole different package. Firm, powerful, and when it came to kissing, he took no prisoners.
Shock and awe.
In an effort to give him some semblance of privacy, she wheeled the case into her bedroom.
“Your timing sucks, Gregson.” Then silence. “Right, you’ve called Derek?” Damn, that didn’t sound good. “Yeah, on my way.” He ended the call and turned toward her as she walked back out of the bedroom.
She took some comfort in his obvious frustration and the way his hungry gaze stayed locked on her face.
“You have to go.” She stated for him.
“Double homicide. Derek and I are the next team up.”
Two people dead? That sounded horrible. She attempted to lighten the mood. “It seems the fates never want us to have more than thirty minutes in each other’s company.”
“Fuck fate.” Heath held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
She reached down for the tote she’d dropped when she came in the door, retrieved her phone, and handed it over.
Heath handed her his cell, opened on a new contact slot. “Enter your details.” He did the same on her cell. Once complete, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, his grip wonderfully firm. “Double homicide means I’ll have no free time for the foreseeable future, but I’ll try to make your signing Wednesday night. In the meantime, look out for a call.” He dropped a soft kiss on her mouth before resting his forehead against hers. “I’ve got to go.”
“Stay safe.” She ran a hand down his arm as he moved away, and she watched him walk down the path to his SUV before she closed the front door.
She dropped her tote on her bed and remembered earlier in the day when she had referred to herself as Cinderella. Did that make Heath her rough-around-the-edges Prince Charming?
If so, his kisses certainly made for one scorching fairy tale. And Lord help her, she couldn’t wait to find out more.