by Addison Fox
Thick summer heat washed over her as she exited the building, the welcome shade of the park beckoning her forward. How was it almost the Fourth of July? She’d had her head down for the past two years, and it was funny to look up and realize time really was flying. Between studying for the detectives’ exam, onboarding into her new role, and now going for the task force, time was slipping by.
And her personal life had seemingly followed suit.
When she and Mike first broke up she’d buried herself in work, happy for the place to focus. Yet somehow that focus had turned to a way of living that seemed to exclude everything else.
Was that why Landon McGee was so interesting? She hadn’t had the hots—the good, steamy kind—for anyone since Mike, and it felt good to find a little bit of that again. To feel that giddy excitement that fired the blood.
And could anyone blame her? The man could kiss. For all his sweet, calm exterior, those still waters hid a streak of passion that was heady. Firm lips. Masterful—and she knew that was a ridiculously loaded word—tongue. And hands that knew how to roam without seeming too eager or lecherous.
Nope.
Landon McGee was something else, and she was dangerously close to having a crush. Even though her modest hangover and slate of work had kept her busy all morning, thoughts of that kiss had kept her steady company, stealing into her mind without warning.
She crossed toward the park, that kiss once again taking up premium real estate as she headed for her favorite hot dog stand.
“Hey Daph!” Another one of her friends from the academy shouted out a greeting, his hands full with what looked like two buckets of fried chicken.
“Lose a bet, Paul?”
“Three days ago and I’m still paying it off. My only hope is this round of payment shoots Kowicki’s cholesterol up another ten points. That bastard is freakishly lucky.”
Daphne remembered hearing about the bet—some twisted parlay that included three rounds of darts and a wager on the most recent Yankees-Mets subway series. Clearly Paul had underestimated Kowicki’s weird—yet widely rumored—lucky streak. “Glad to know you’re not a sore loser.”
Paul only grinned at that and kept on, balancing the buckets in his hands.
Daphne continued into the park, her own impending date with cholesterol-laden goodness propelling her forward. Shade was in sight when something—the vaguest sense, really—had her turning her head.
And then, as if she’d conjured him out of thin air, she registered the sexy, low-throated greeting as she looked over to find Landon McGee headed straight for her.
When his morning proved solidly unproductive—and included a client call where he had to explain the reasons for a delayed project delivery that was entirely due to lack of feedback from said client—Landon figured his best bet for lunch was to just get the hell out of the office. There was a small sandwich shop he usually ran to for a quick bite, but something tugged him to go a bit farther.
He climbed the stairs from the subway ten minutes later to find himself at the entrance to Overlook Park, the crown jewel of Park Heights. He’d had some vague notion of heading into the precinct to talk to Daphne and invite her to that art show tomorrow night. He’d even rehearsed it in his head, attempting the correct mix of casual and sincere.
So it was a jolt to see her walking out of the precinct directly across the street and straight toward the park.
Summer sun wrapped around her like a halo and for a moment, he simply stood and stared. God, she was gorgeous. All feminine curves and long, lush hair, high cheekbones, and an angled chin that suggested just an extra touch of stubborn persistence.
She attracted and she intrigued him—which, he was fast coming to understand, was a crazy-powerful combination.
A shout to her left had her smiling and waving to a colleague in uniform and in that moment, her face lit up, Landon had some small inkling why he’d been so restless all morning.
And why that restlessness suddenly faded in the face of seeing her again.
He picked up the pace, crossing at the light, and intercepted her just before she reached a hot-dog vendor just inside the park entrance.
“Lunch of champions?”
She turned at his comment, confusion etching her face for the briefest moment before she turned the full force of that smile on him. He was grateful he already had his feet planted, or the force of that smile would have buckled his knees. And he quickly amended gorgeous to luminous in his mind.
“While I’d like to tell you a small, soggy hotdog is all the time I have, I have a secret to share.” She leaned in close, hints of cherry blossoms floating from her hair. “I’m addicted to Tommy’s hotdogs. They’re the best in the borough.”
Tommy smiled from the other side of his cart. “Daph’s my best customer. Your usual?”
“Sure.”
“And the usual is?” Landon asked.
“Hot dog, sauerkraut, and mustard.”
Amused at her slight hesitation when she mentioned her toppings, Landon turned toward Tommy. “Add two more for me.”
He added a few sodas to their order and then paid for their lunch.
“You don’t have to buy my lunch.”
“It’s a hot dog.”
“It’s a da—” She broke off and turned toward a small napkin dispenser, busying herself with half-emptying it.
Something deeply satisfying settled in his chest at the idea she might consider this a date, and he nearly laughed out loud at himself. Was he really that hard up?
He’d been in a bit of a dry spell, especially after his last disastrous date with the far-too-eager and, sadly, unappealing Stephanie Sullivan the prior spring. On a very real level he knew he’d missed female company, but there was just something else about Daphne Rossi. Which took him right back to his impressions as he watched her walk into the park.
She was interesting. Fascinating. And he was eager to learn more.
Daphne pointed toward an empty bench. “It’s hot today, but shouldn’t be too bad in the shade.”
A handful of pigeons scattered as they sat down. “I’m glad I found you.”
Her carefree smile faded. “Did something else happen? Did you have another break-in?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. I headed this way because I wanted to talk to you.”
“Did you think of anyone else I should look into?”
“Daphne. I’m here because I want to talk to you. You, Daphne, not cop Daphne.”
“Oh.”
The subtle implication that the only reason he’d have looked for her was because of his case tossed some cold water on his intentions, but he pushed on, figuring some element of luck was still on his side to have happened upon her. “I wanted to see if you’re free tomorrow night.”
“You’re asking me out?”
“Sure.” Casual, McGee. Keep it casual. “Someone at work has a showing at an art gallery tomorrow night and I want to show my support.”
“And you’re not bothered that I’m the cop on your case?”
“Am I a suspect?”
“No.”
“Then it doesn’t bother me.”
“Okay. Well—” She hesitated before pushing a few wayward strands of hair out of her face. “It doesn’t bother me either. But if I’m going to help you, I have to ask some questions that might make you uncomfortable.”
The lingering confusion that had dogged him since she first brought up his past roared back with the force of a herd of out of control horses. “I’m not uncomfortable.”
“Sure you are. And it’s okay that you are. But it doesn’t change the fact I have to do my job. Nor does it change that I would like to go with you tomorrow night.”
“Good. Seven work for you?”
“Yes.”
A small dollop of mustard rested over the V where her thumb met forefinger. He ran a finger over that delicate skin, intending only to remove the small drop before it became a stain. Only when he touched her, Landon re
alized just how much he’d wanted to touch her again.
Her skin was soft against the pad of his finger, and without even realizing how it happened, the simple gesture was suddenly fraught with meaning and urgency. The mustard was tart against his tongue as he licked it from his finger, but it was her gaze on his that skyrocketed the moment from simple to erotic in less than a heartbeat.
Lunch forgotten, he’d already decided to claim a kiss—only to realize he was too slow when her arm came around his neck, pulling him close. The lips he’d spent a sleepless night fantasizing over pressed to his, the rich memory fading against the heady reality that was Daphne.
Five
Soft fingers threaded through his hair as even softer lips opened against his. The sudden sensual assault might have momentarily blindsided him, but Landon quickly caught up, taking the kiss from relaxed to urgent in a heartbeat. The carnal stroke of tongue against tongue, the playful nip of teeth, and a fervent need to touch her. He moved through every sensation, fierce need rising up to swamp him.
How was she so very necessary?
And how did every aspect of their kiss seem like another facet of her personality? From serious to soft to delightfully sharp-edged, Daphne Rossi was something else.
She was a good cop. He’d sensed it the morning they met—sensed it even more in the questions she asked and her overarching concern for him. There was a fierce honesty about her that suggested she was a woman who did very little bullshitting.
It was refreshing. Authentic. And added to the wry sense of humor he’d already observed, which he found oddly charming.
Whether it was her innate personality, or being raised with four brothers, or because one simply needs a sense of humor to deal with the worst side of humanity, she had a way about her that made him comfortable. And for all the air of casual ease he sought to project, he was rarely comfortable with anyone outside his family and close friends.
Few people were truly authentic. And he’d learned a long time ago to drown out the emotional noise—and the inevitable disappointment that came from trying to find it.
But honesty. Dependability. Humor. Those attributes struck a chord with him. He and his brothers had always used a solid layer of humor to deal with their pasts and push their way through obstacles, and with Daphne he felt a distinct kinship that was as familiar as it was foreign.
A kinship that morphed to desire the moment he touched her. Hell, the moment he looked at her.
He ran his hand over the silky strands of her hair, tangling his fingers in all that lush weight. Summer warmth enveloped them, but it was no match for the heat that built inside of him.
Had he ever wanted a woman this much?
Before he could dwell too long on that question, her husky voice broke the moment.
“Well this is unexpected.” Humor filled her dark eyes before she pressed one last, quick kiss to his lips. “I didn’t realize hot dogs were an aphrodisiac. Or that I’d be making out on a park bench over my lunch hour.”
His senses still full of her, Landon wrapped a loose curl around his finger. “You’re the aphrodisiac.”
Something quick—a fast cloud over the moon—shaded her gaze before she picked up the discarded hot dog in her lap, the cloud vanishing. “You’re not so bad yourself, Ace. And I’m looking forward to tomorrow night.”
Her return to topic—and the reality he’d see her again tomorrow—was like a signal to return to lunch. The silence was comfortable and easy as the air around them filled with the shouts of people enjoying a summer afternoon in the park. Landon reached for his second hot dog. “These really are good.”
“The best in Brooklyn. I keep telling Tommy he should open a store, but he says he likes his cart and his park.”
“Simple pleasures.”
She took a sip of her soda. “I could learn a thing or two.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Isn’t enjoying your job half the battle? You seem to like what you do.”
“I do. But I should learn to relax, too. You know, ease up on the dog-with-a-bone routine.”
Her quiet admission seemed to loosen something inside of him. The tight rein he normally kept on his emotions was no match for her. And the reality was, she had churned up some emotion and lingering memories with her probing into his past the day before, and he was self-evolved enough to know it had bothered him.
Add that on to his mother’s recent news—of the life she’d led before him and his brothers—and it was fair to say he wasn’t the most open-minded at the moment.
He might not be the most open-minded, but he wouldn’t stand in her way. “What you said. Before. I’m not asking you to not do your job.”
“Aren’t you?” Her gaze was gentle yet unrelenting as the question hung there between them.
“No.” He hesitated, the events around his mother’s Memorial Day announcement sticking once more in his gut. No matter how many times he told himself his reaction was unfair—wrong, even—emotion swamped him until those twin fires of anger and disappointment maintained their steady burn. “It’s been a strange summer so far. The break-in yesterday was just a bit of icing on that.”
Those dark cop eyes sharpened. “Oh?”
“A blast from my mother’s past showed up around the start of summer. Mama Lou,” he clarified for her. “Louisa Mills, my adoptive mother.”
“Was this blast someone dangerous?”
Landon had done his own investigating on that and didn’t think Gretchen Reynolds was dangerous. A spiteful old bitch maybe, but not a physical danger. “I don’t think so, unless you consider Park Avenue matrons as the top of the criminal food chain.”
“You’d be surprised. I’m endlessly fascinated with what people can do. For spite. For fun. Or when they’re backed into a corner. A Park Avenue matron could certainly fall into any of those categories.”
Landon considered. “This would check the spite box.”
“And if it did, it might connect to your incident as well.”
That leap stopped him, but he had to admit it was as good an idea as any other. His break-in had an odd, senseless quality to it that could easily fall into the “just for spite” camp.
“Why don’t you tell me what a Park Avenue matron has to do with your mother’s past?”
He hadn’t talked about it since the big reveal. Landon knew his mother wanted to talk to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to bring it up, so he’d opted for classic male behavior and avoided her instead. Work had given him a prime excuse, and he’d grabbed at it with both hands. He’d even avoided discussing anything with Nick and Fender. Both thought he was being a drama queen, and he wasn’t interested in doing that deep dive into his past to work through it.
Funny that his life seemed determined to make him go deep diving—hell, dumpster diving—anyway.
“My mother had an affair with Park Avenue’s husband about twenty-five years ago. Apparently that one still stings, no matter how much time passes.”
The words were like spikes on his tongue, the disillusionment that had dogged him for the past month clearly no closer to fading than it had been the afternoon he’d learned the news.
His mother wasn’t perfect. Empirically he knew that. But the emotion tied to accepting that news hadn’t quite caught up with his more rational side.
She was better than accepting scraps from some man. Better than having a relationship with someone who was married with children. He spent the first ten years of his life with someone who accepted scraps—and a hell of a lot worse—and Louisa was better than that.
“No, I suspect that news didn’t go down well at all.”
Daphne’s gentle observation interrupted the same circular argument he’d been having with himself for weeks now. It was monumentally unfair of him to demand perfection of his mother. It was even worse to equate an adult indiscretion on Louisa’s part with his biological mother’s drug addiction and resulting behavior.
That was calm, cool, rational logic.
/> And he was no closer to getting there than he was to getting out of the cycle of playing judge and jury over something that happened before Louisa even came into his life.
“Why do you think this has anything to do with what’s happening now?”
“When my mother declared her intention to run for Brooklyn borough president, it must have been high-profile enough to gain the attention of Gretchen Reynolds. Hell, maybe the woman’s been keeping tabs on her all along.” Landon wadded up his napkin and three-pointed it toward a nearby trash can. “There was a time, especially the year Nick got drafted for the NFL, that our situation was the subject of a lot of feel-good news. The single woman who’d adopted three boys. Look what they’ve become, that sort of thing.”
“It’s highly possible,” Daphne agreed, wadding up her own napkin. “With the ever-present internet, our lives are a lot more transparent than we think. Especially if someone’s motivated enough to go looking.”
“Mom hasn’t said a lot about the threats, but the woman’s been nosing around.”
“I can nose back. It may piss her off, but it is a lead. A good one, actually.”
While he appreciated the offer, the formality of that kind of outreach stuck weirdly in his gut. Daphne was a cop. She had access to details and information, and she could use it at any moment.
Was he okay with her digging into his past?
And did he have a choice?
Although she’d long ago accepted that her sons were grown men with lives of their own, Louisa Mills only had so much patience for being shut out of their adult lives. Confident she knew how to draw the appropriate line between interest and interference, she drew a personal line at being ignored.
And she and Landon had ignored each other long enough.
Cobblestones were bumpy against her shoes as she navigated the stretch toward his office, two large cups of coffee in her hands. She also had a small box of Stewey’s brownies buried at the bottom of her large purse to sweeten the deal.