Chapter Two
"Package for Detective Doyle."
Claire glanced up from her desk, where she was going over crime scene photos from the Melissa Clarkson case. Her muscles pinched between her shoulder blades, and there was an ache behind her eyes that she hadn't noticed as she studied the pictures. One of the two detectives she worked homicide with, Catherine Grace, stood just beside her desk, a knowing smirk on her lips.
"You know, as observant as you are, you really don't notice things when you're focused," Grace said, plopping a neatly-wrapped package onto Claire's desk.
Claire shot her the dirtiest look she could muster. "Thanks."
"Well?" Grace pointed at the box. "It's from that sexy billionaire. Aren't you going to open it?"
Claire bit back a moan. It was strictly against precinct policy to accept gifts from anybody connected to ongoing investigations. She pushed the package off her crime scene photo. As much as she wanted to know what it was Roland was sending her, it would be best to send it back unopened. Grace could see the thoughts going through Claire's head and rolled her eyes.
"Come on, one peek won't hurt. His alibi has proven solid. It's not like he's our murderer."
"I know that. And I don't think that he's a part of it, but until we find out the who and why of this murder, you know the rules. I can't accept any gifts from him."
Grace sighed heavily. "You need to live a little, Claire. There're no rules against opening the gifts, just keeping them. If you don't open it, I will."
Claire bit her lip. She thought about Roland Davis and the way he had looked at her, and she swore her heart skipped a beat. It had been extremely difficult to keep from drooling and dropping her panties when she first laid eyes on him. He had everything going for him. Muscular, but in that low-key, stronger-than-he-looks kind of way. Strong jaw, clean shaven. Blond hair that was just the perfect length to run her fingers through. The strangest eyes, though. Amber, and they didn't quite look right with his coloring. Maybe he wore contacts.
Grace was still staring at her, so Claire grabbed the package and ripped it open, shaking her head at her own weakness. It was a small jewelry box, and inside was a matching necklace and earring set. Sparkling diamonds were set in a pearly-white metal. White gold maybe. The chain of the necklace looked small and dainty.
"Wow," Grace muttered, when Claire finally handed her the box. "Did he send a note or anything?"
Claire shook her head, mind reeling. What was Roland sending her diamond jewelry for? Just because she had told him that he wasn't a suspect in their murder investigation?
"Well, I think we know how Mr. Billionaire feels about Detective Doyle."
Heat rushed to Claire's face. "Grace, knock it off."
"What? Oh, don't tell me that you didn't notice the way he was undressing you at the crime scene. Those eyes were locked on your ass like you were the creamiest, most decadent pudding he'd ever seen." Grace waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "He's not a suspect, maybe you ought to let him have a taste."
Claire's face got even hotter, if that was possible. She hadn't seen that, but she had noticed the low-lying lust in his voice when they were talking. Not that she was going to mention that to Grace. It would just give her more fodder, and the girl needed a glass of ice water over her head already.
"No, I won't be letting him have a taste of my ass, or anything else for that matter."
"Come on, you can't tell me you don't want a taste of him."
Claire ignored her, shutting the box. "If he's trying to seduce me, he has a lot of work ahead of him. I don't sleep with just anyone, and it will take more than sparkly jewelry to get me to spread my legs." Claire hoped that would be enough to get the younger detective to drop the subject.
"Are you going to give these back?" Grace gestured to the box.
"Have to."
"I mean are you going right now? I'd be glad to come for backup."
Claire rolled her eyes and snatched the necklace and earrings back from Grace. She was far too casual in the workplace for Claire's tastes, but there was no denying that she was very good at her job. In fact, her slightly ditzy persona was probably one of the reasons she was so good. People were constantly underestimating her, and more than once she had teased out a confession when blunt force would have been useless.
"You might as well. You can ask that Adam Buchan why the security cameras were turned off last night."
Grace's eyes lit up. If there was one thing she liked better than flirting, it was an interrogation while flirting. Claire had to suppress a smile. The younger woman was her best friend on the force. They had been working together for years now and had faced a lot of tough situations together. Claire knew that Grace had her back, even if she was a little annoying when it came to insisting that Claire needed to find a man to settle down with.
Detective Claire Doyle didn't want a man. She was perfectly happy where she was.
***
The two detectives were soon at the Davis office building. When Claire had been assigned the case, the captain had made it very clear that she was supposed to act quickly and ruffle as few feathers as possible. She understood the necessity. Roland Davis owned half the city, including the building where Claire lived. He operated something like four diamond mines up in Alaska and Canada, and was also rapidly developing new medical treatments for genetic diseases.
Adam Buchan met them as they entered the building, and escorted them directly to Roland's office. It was, quite simply, the most decadent workspace Claire had ever seen. Huge, expensive paintings hung on the walls, and the floor was polished green marble with thick, silk rugs here and there. A set of ebony doors–ebony!–led from the secretarial waiting room to the private office where Roland no doubt was.
"Are you here in an official capacity?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow at Claire.
"I am," Grace said, batting her eyes and giggling. "Detective Doyle isn't. I need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Buchan."
Adam smiled at her. It was the same smile he had given Claire just a few days earlier, except directed at Grace it looked more genuine than it had at Claire. Grace smiled back, and her giggling didn't seem quite as controlled as it usually was. And no wonder. Adam was ripped and almost as tall as Roland, with the greenest eyes Claire had ever seen. Grace, with her auburn hair and rosy-red lips, would be the perfect match for him if they were in a rom-com. Both were ridiculously good looking.
The two were ignoring Claire at this point, but she just rolled her eyes as she slipped through the ebony doors. Roland was on his feet when she went in, as though he was expecting her, even though Claire hadn't seen Adam call him to let him know she was coming. He smiled broadly at her, his eyes sweeping down her body. Claire couldn't suppress the blush that stained her cheeks, but she forced herself to breathe evenly. As much as she'd like Roland to ravage her on his desk–was it made of pink ivory?–she wasn't here to give into her sexual desires. The opposite, in fact.
I'm a grown ass woman and my hormones don't control me.
"Detective Doyle. Have you found Melissa's killer?"
Claire shook her head. "Not yet, I'm afraid. We are pursuing some promising leads, though. I'm actually here because of this."
She placed the jewelry box on his desk. Roland's brow furrowed and he glanced up at her quickly, peering at her ears. Was he checking to see if they were pierced?
"I can't accept any sort of gift during an open investigation," she explained. "They're lovely, but you can see how it might be misconstrued as a bribe."
Roland winced and drew the box to his side of the desk. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about your investigation. But if you can't accept a gift, then perhaps you and I could go to dinner sometime?"
Claire wanted to accept–who wouldn't?–but shook her head. "You are still connected to an open investigation. I'm afraid that would not be a good idea."
There was also the fact that a woman who worked for him and who he had openly admitted he was sleeping with had just been murdered. That had to take a toll on a guy, even if he claimed that he didn't have any sort of deep feelings for Clarkson. He was probably only looking for rebound sex. Or whatever the equivalent of rebound sex was in this situation. Claire wasn't a one-and-done kind of girl. Although after the case was done, she might just have to make an exception to her rule if Roland was still interested.
"Of course." Roland looked disappointed but nodded his understanding. "Perhaps there is a way around that, though?"
Claire raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"I have arranged for my staff to attend a wake for Melissa at my house soon. Everybody who was at my last party will be there. Perhaps you could come to meet some more of the people who knew her?"
It was dangerously gray area, but Claire considered the offer. It would offer a great low-key way to get to know Melissa's coworkers, and find out if there were any sort of interpersonal problems that they wouldn't tell the uniforms who questioned them. If there was alcohol to loosen their tongues, it would be even better. It would probably be best to leave Grace behind, though. Two detectives at the wake would be far too obvious.
"I would love that. Thank you."
He nodded, his gaze softening. His eyes darted towards her mouth but didn't linger. "I look forward to seeing you there."