Chapter Nine
Cassidy could sense Beau’s tall, broad-shouldered frame close behind her as she stepped up on the porch and opened the door to the guest house. Her heart was beating too fast. Her palms felt damp. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he had said, that it was only a matter of time until she wound up in his bed.
Just hearing him say it turned her on, the conviction in his voice, the way his mouth edged into a faint, sexy smile when he spoke. Beau was right. She wanted him. It was impossible to deny. She fought the urge to just stop and turn around, grab the front of his shirt and drag his mouth down to hers for a scorching-hot kiss.
Beau was determined to get her in bed and the more she was around him, the more she wanted exactly the same. She couldn’t remember feeling such a powerful attraction to a man. Ever. The sparks between them could set off a dynamite charge. Maybe she should just give in. So what if she slept with him? There would be emotional consequences, yes, but maybe it would be worth it.
What would sex be like with a gorgeous, incredibly hot male like Beau? Experiencing the kind of white-hot lust she read in those amazing blue eyes could be an exciting new adventure.
Or maybe not. Maybe sex with Beau wouldn’t turn out to be any more thrilling than sex with Rick or the other few men she’d had brief, unfulfilling affairs with over the years.
A slow, deep kiss might give her a clue. Maybe she should try it. Just once. If it wasn’t pure melting heat—
“How will you find him?” Beau asked, jerking her back to reality and sending a second flush into her cheeks. “I wouldn’t think a lowlife loan shark like Tate would be listed in the yellow pages.”
“You’re right. But he’s fairly well-known in Dallas. It shouldn’t be that tough to come up with his location. First, let’s try it the easy way. I need to make a phone call.”
Pulling out her cell, she hit the contact button for Jason Maddox, the bounty hunter she worked with in her office. Jase knew every underworld figure in the city. His contacts were one of the ways he located the scumball bail skips he brought to justice.
Cassidy’s tracing skill was another source he used. She had helped him bring in the Night Watchman, a notorious serial killer. The reward was big-time. Cassidy had received a fat percentage for tracing the killer to the half brother in Phoenix no one had known existed.
She pressed the phone against her ear. “Jase, it’s Cassidy.”
“Hey, darlin’. What’s up?”
“Jase, I need a favor. I’m looking for a loan shark named Dooley Tate. I figured you might know where I can find him.”
“Ruthless, conscienceless, five-foot-eight piece of shit Dooley Tate? That the guy?”
A smile tugged at her lips. Jase wasn’t known for his tact. “That would be him. Any idea where he is?”
“Works out of a strip club called Barbie’s out on Northwest Highway. Got an office upstairs. Best time to find him is early evening, not too crowded then. But he’s bad news, darlin’. You don’t want to go there by yourself. I’m in Albuquerque following a trail, but maybe you can get one of the other guys in the office to go with you.”
She glanced over at Beau, six-foot-three-inches of lean, solid muscle, a man trained in mixed martial arts. From what she had read, he had even done some cage fighting when he was in college. She wondered if that was how he got the scar along his jaw.
“I’ve got someone with me. I’ll be okay.”
“Think about taking that little gun of yours just in case. I know you don’t like to carry, but—”
“I’ll give it some thought.”
“All right,” Jase said. “Just be careful.”
“I will.” Cassidy hung up the phone.
“Who was that?” Beau asked, the lines of his face intense.
“Jason Maddox. He’s a bounty hunter who works out of my office. I do tracing for him sometimes. We’re friends.”
The scar tightened along his jaw. She noticed it happened when he was irritated or upset. “Friends? You mean like friends with benefits?”
She smiled, enjoying the edge of jealousy in his voice. “I’ll admit Jase is a good-looking guy, but no, not that kind of friends. I was living with someone when we met, and even after I moved out, we just never clicked in that way.”
“You moved out. So you aren’t involved with anyone at the moment?”
She shook her head, unable to bring herself to lie, though it might make things a lot easier. “No, not for quite some time.”
The tension eased in those wide shoulders. “Good,” was all he said.
“I need to work up a profile on Tate. I’m not sure what I’ll find, but I’ll do my best.” As she sat down in front of the computer, Beau’s cell phone rang.
He checked the caller ID. “It’s Charlotte. She’s making the funeral arrangements.” He walked a few feet away. “Yeah, I can do that. No problem. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Beau hung up and walked back. “She’s got things lined up at the funeral home. She wants to get my input and approval.”
His face looked so strained, Cassidy rose from the chair. “You want me to go with you?”
He shook his head. “You have things to do. You don’t need to do that.”
“I can work on Tate’s profile when we get back.” She let the offer hang in the air. It was Beau’s decision.
Those beautiful blue eyes searched her face. “You really wouldn’t mind going?”
Her heart pinched at his hopeful expression. “I wouldn’t mind at all. It’ll give me a chance to check out Charlotte. She’s on our list, remember?”
He relaxed. “Yeah, good idea. Let’s go.”
Cassidy grabbed her purse and they headed out the door. Ten minutes later, the Lamborghini pulled up in front of the Fremont Funeral Home. For several seconds Beau just sat there, and Cassidy’s heart went out to him. Whatever the senator had done, he was still Beau’s dad.
With a quiet glide upward, the car doors opened and they got out. Cassidy hadn’t expected to feel a quick flash of pain, a memory of the last time she had been to a place like this, the arrangements she and her two brothers had helped her dad make for her mother. Cancer was a brutal killer, a heartbreaker for everyone.
“Are you okay?” Beau asked when she stopped at the front door.
Cassidy shook off the memories. “My mom died of cancer. It was rough. For an instant, I remembered.”
He glanced off into the distance. “I lost someone that way. You never forget the pain.”
Surprised she hadn’t read about it during her research, she started to ask who it was, but Beau just shook his head. They stepped into an entry lit by a crystal chandelier. Soft music played in the background as a well-dressed, efficient-looking woman with silver hair pulled into a tight chignon walked toward them down the hall.
“Mr. Reese?” she asked.
“That’s right. And this is Ms. Jones.”
She gave them a smile that had seen better days. “I’m Mrs. Dennison. Welcome to the Fremont Funeral Home. If you will, please follow me.”
Beau looked down at Cassidy and there was something in his face. “I’m glad you came with me,” he said softly as the woman reached the office and came to a stop.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, Cassidy reached for his hand. She laced her fingers with his, and Beau’s hand tightened around them.
“The funeral is set for Saturday,” Mrs. Dennison said. “If that is agreeable to you.”
“What about the autopsy?” Beau asked.
“Chief Warren has assured me it will be completed well before then.”
Beau swallowed and nodded. Mrs. Dennison opened the office door. “I’ll give you a moment of privacy, then we’ll go over the arrangements.” As they walked inside, she stepped back out of the room and closed the door.
Across the room, Charlotte Mercer Reese rose gracefully from her chair. Her smile slipped a little when she noticed their linked hands. Cassidy released her hold and Beau stepped forward. He bent and brushed a light kiss on his stepmother’s cheek.
“Charlotte, you’re looking lovely as always.” He turned. “Charlotte, this is Cassidy Jones. She’s a private investigator. She’s helping me look into the murder.”
Blond and slender, at forty-nine Charlotte Reese was still a remarkably attractive woman. In a navy pantsuit accented by a pink and blue silk scarf, her feet in a pair of designer mid-heeled pumps, she exemplified the role of a widowed senator’s wife.
One of Charlotte’s blond eyebrows went up. “I thought we discussed this, Beau. We agreed it was better to let the police handle the murder investigation.”
“No, Charlotte. I didn’t agree to anything. I told you I intended to find the man who killed my father and that is exactly what I plan to do.”
“Your father is dead, Beau. Can’t you simply let him rest in peace?”
“You think he wouldn’t want the man who murdered him brought to justice? If you think that, you never really knew him at all.”
“We’re only asking a few questions,” Cassidy soothed. “Just eliminating people who knew him, anyone who might have had some sort of disagreement with him. Perhaps it wasn’t murder. Perhaps things got out of hand and his death was an accident. That’s all we’re trying to find out.”
Charlotte made no reply.
“If you could tell us where you were Tuesday morning, we could take you off the suspect list,” Cassidy pressed.
Charlotte’s mouth thinned. “How dare you imply I had anything to do with Stewart’s murder! Beau, are you going to stand there and let this woman insult me that way?”
“Cassidy’s been hired to do a job, Charlotte. Just answer the question and be done with it.”
“Fine. I was in Dallas. I drove to Pleasant Hill as soon as Police Chief Warren called to tell me what had happened. You were at the police station, Beau, when I arrived.”
“Dad told Cassidy someone had been asking questions about him around town. He said he was being followed. He thought you could have had something do with it.”
“Why in the world would I be following your father?”
“If not you, then someone you hired.”
“That is ridiculous.”
Cassidy spoke up. “He thought you might still be harboring romantic feelings toward him, Mrs. Reese. After all, you were once husband and wife.”
Charlotte scoffed. “I can’t imagine he believed that. Our divorce wasn’t entirely pleasant. It was fortunate we were able to remain friends. And if you persist in questioning me as if I am a suspect—”
“That’s all we needed to know,” Beau interrupted. “I appreciate your honesty, Charlotte, and your help making the arrangements. I trust your judgment in this completely.”
Some of the steam went out of her. Her hand ran over the outrageously expensive navy Chanel bag she carried. “I’m glad to help in any way I can. As I said, we were friends.”
Just then the door opened and Mrs. Dennison walked back into the room. “If you’re ready, why don’t we start with the casket Mrs. Reese has chosen?”
Cassidy glanced at Beau, whose features once more looked tense. He nodded.
“If you will please follow me.” Mrs. Dennison walked out the door and Beau’s stepmother fell in behind her.
Cassidy started walking next to Beau. She was surprised to feel his hand searching for hers, then his long, tanned fingers taking hold.
They walked out into the marble-floored hall, their footsteps echoing, then entered a silent, windowless room that carried the faint scent of white lilies. The casket Charlotte had chosen was polished rosewood with ornate gold handles. It was regal and tasteful and extremely expensive. Beau looked at his stepmother and nodded.
They returned to the office and went over the remainder of the arrangements.
Beau never let go of Cassidy’s hand.