Her full ruby red lips stretched into a soft smile. “Nick, your phone is vibrating.”
His ears focused on the sweet sound of his name rolling off her tongue. No one ever called him by his first name. Everyone called him Spinelli or Detective, even Shannon did when they first met. But at some point over the past couple of months, she had started calling him by his first name. It nearly drove him insane every time she said it. His heart raced. He should take her again.
“Nick,” she whispered, knocking him out of his reverie. “What?”
“Your phone is still humming.” “Oh, yeah.”
He grabbed his phone from the nightstand. The time in the upper right-hand corner read 4:00 a.m. Captain Jackson’s face flashed across the screen. He tapped the screen and held the phone to his ear. “Spinelli here.”
“Rise and shine, Spinelli. We got one for you, down on Water Street. Male, late 20’s, cause of death not obvious. I’ve already texted you the address. The officers on the scene are cordoning off the premises.”
Though he wasn’t a morning person, not even close, a rush of adrenaline crashed through him like a tidal wave. This is what he lived for, catching killers. He sprang out of bed as Jackson’s words trailed off. “I’m on it,” Spinelli rasped before he disconnected the call.
He retrieved his contact list and tapped Detective Walker’s profile. Walker answered with a growl. Spinelli gave him the details; then he did the same with Detective Marsh.
Spinelli slid into a pair of jeans and pulled a long-sleeved navy polo shirt over his head. He grabbed his Beretta 9mm from his nightstand and secured it in his holster before he slung the chain connected to his gold detective badge over his head.
He’d nearly leaped through the bedroom door before he remembered Shannon still lay in his bed, entwined in his comforter. He’d rather it be that she was intertwined with him. He spun on his heel and in two long, quick steps was at her bedside.
Her bright green gaze fixed on him. An amused look covered her face. He knelt beside the bed. “I gotta go.”
“I gathered that.”
“So I’ll pick you up at your place tonight at 7:00?” he asked, confirming their dinner date.
“Yes...no.”
Spinelli arched a brow. “No?”
Shannon rubbed her eyes. “I mean yes to dinner, but can we push it back to 8:00? I know that’s getting late, but I’m scheduled to do the singing valentines for the church fundraiser from 4:00 until 7:00.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll change the dinner reservation.”
He leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly across hers. He knew he had to keep it light or he wouldn’t be able to leave.
She didn’t play fair. She reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him to her. He let her, he was weak. His mind was mush.
He responded to her demand for more and deepened the kiss. His tongue passed through her lips. She tasted sweet. How did she always taste so sweet? His heart pounded in his chest.
Suddenly, Captain Jackson’s words from moments ago echoed in his head. We got one for you, down on Water Street. Male, late 20’s, cause of death not obvious. Christ, he’d nearly forgotten he had a dead body to attend to.
He pried his lips from Shannon’s, nearly needing the help of a mechanic with a crowbar.
He rose to his feet, willing his knees to support him. She always left him weak-kneed, and she probably didn’t have a clue. “I’ll see you tonight. I have a special Valentine’s evening planned for us.”
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About the Author
Valerie Clarizio is a USA Today Bestselling author who lives in romantic Door County Wisconsin with her husband. She loves to read, write, and spend time at her cabin in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
She's lived her life surrounded by men, three brothers, a husband, and a male Siamese cat who required his own instruction manual. Keeping up with all the men in her life has turned her into an outdoors enthusiast, of which her favorite activity is hiking in national parks. While out on the trails, she has plenty of time to conjure up irresistible characters and unique storylines for her next romantic suspense or sweet contemporary romance novel.
Read more at Valerie J. Clarizio’s site.
Covert Exposure, a Nick Spinelli Mystery Page 13