by Ana Leigh
As she turned away from the window, she looked down at her gown. All dressed up and no place to go. She'd had lovely fantasies while getting dressed earlier. Images of Doug pulling the zipper down her back and discovering that beneath the white satin there was only Jessica and perfume. Now she would have to get out of the ridiculously tight dress herself. Not half the fun.
Stepping into the living room, she pulled the clip from her hair and tossed it on an end table. She'd worn her hair like this for him, too, knowing a single tug would allow the entire contraption to fall free. So much for that fairy tale – not even close to midnight and the ball had fizzled out for poor Cinderella! Back to the real world of pumpkins and mice – of crimes and punishments.
Shaking out her hair, the tresses slid along her bare shoulders. Suddenly she stopped dead in the center of the room. Frowning she turned slowly to look back at the end table. The picture of her and Karen was gone. Her heart began to thud – half concerned that something so important was missing, half fearful as to why it was missing. She looked around the room, and immediately saw the picture perched on the opposite end table. Odd. She always put the cherished photo on the table closest to where she usually sat.
The frame must have gotten knocked over last night, and Doug had put it back in the wrong place. That was the only explanation.
Thoughts of last night made Jess remember Doug's odd behavior tonight. She wouldn't be surprised if she'd seen the last of Detective McGuire – unless she counted courtroom appearances.
She had no one to blame but herself. Why had she asked him to the Bar Association Ball? As if she attended nonsense like that every day. The ball was a once-a-year occurrence – requisite torture.
Perhaps she should explain that to him, then thought the better of it. She wasn't explaining anything. They'd had a one-night stand. Just because she'd never had one before didn't mean she couldn't figure out the etiquette. She'd screwed up by inviting him to the ball. And he hadn't known how to tell her no, so he'd gone along. Pity date.
Jessica winced. Things would be embarrassing for a while, at least for her. She'd get over it. Or at least pretend to.
Obviously one night had been enough for McGuire to get her out of his system. Too bad it hadn't been nearly enough to get him out of hers.
* * *
After a sleepless night of anguishing over her ecstatic – but brief – relationship with the complex Detective Douglas I. McGuire… What did his middle initial stand for anyway? Ill-tempered? Indomitable? Irreverent? Irritating? Most likely all of the above with an irrevocable thrown in.
Darn it, she was doing it again! Blaming him for her mistakes. This kind of situation happened all the time between men and women. She was just new to the game.
And he's a master at it, Little Grasshopper.
* * *
"What did she say?" Vic asked.
"She said she meant it," Doug murmured to himself. "But I think she was stroking me."
"What?"
Doug looked up startled. Dammit, all morning his mind kept straying back to Jess – and what a jerk he'd made of himself last night. Why had he called that stuffed shirt a prick? They'd been among her friends and associates. Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut for once? But no, he always had to have the last word.
"She was stroking you? What in hell are you talking about? You must have really got lucky last night. I sure wanna hear about it, but I was referring to the medical examiner. The autopsy, partner? The one they worked all night to get to us."
"Ah…" Doug shuffled through the papers on his desk. He didn't plan on seeing Jess again. That much he'd figured out on his own. He was only asking for trouble if he continued on the way he was. And since he had no intention of seeing her again, he had no intention of even breathing her name to Vic.
He found the report and leaned back in his chair, only to find Vic studying him with a smirk on his lips and a frown in his eyes.
"I talked to the M.E.," he blurted, to stave off the inevitable questions. "She said Gilbert died of asphyxiation, most likely induced by the plastic bag over his head. No water in his lungs, so he wasn't breathing when he went into the river."
Vic grabbed the report and scanned it himself. "No blow to the head, no bruises on the neck or torso." He glanced at Doug. "How in hell do you overpower a guy the size of Gilbert, tie a bag around his head and dump him in the river without him putting up a fight?"
"There was insulin in his blood, so the M.E. checked further and found a puncture on his arm. I guess he had very hairy arms which is why she missed it the first time."
"So the gorilla was diabetic." Vic shrugged.
"But he wasn't diabetic. That's the point."
"I don't get it."
"She said an overdose of insulin in a nondiabetic can induce an instant coma. Usually not enough to kill, but it will incapacitate. Pharmacies keep records of insulin users, don't they?"
Vic pursed his lips in a long, low whistle. "So all we've got to do is check out a connection between Gilbert and one of the thousands of diabetics in the city – or possibly the whole country. Piece of cake. You start with New York, I'll take California."
"Meet you in St. Louis," Doug answered, grinning when Vic growled. "What did Forensics say?"
"No DNA. Probably washed away in the river if there had been."
"And the rope and plastic bag?"
"Both were common and ordinary. The bag can be purchased at any grocery store, and the rope at any hardware store. No prints on either."
Doug slipped his arms into his still wet trench coat. "Might as well get started in Gilbert's old neighborhood in the Third Ward. We'll check out the pharmacies, grocers and hardware stores. Maybe we'll get lucky with a name that connects to Gilbert."
* * *
Another morning of rain had added to Doug's ornery mood, so he'd worked off some of his tension in the weight room. Yesterday's canvassing of the stores in Gilbert's neighborhood resulted in nothing but he and Vic getting soaked. Today he'd made up his mind that he wasn't going to budge from his desk. He began going over the local pharmacy printouts of insulin users.
When it was time to knock off, Doug declined Vic's dinner offer again and went home to his three-room apartment.
After changing into shorts, he checked the refrigerator; he had a choice between a frozen chicken potpie or bacon and eggs. It was an easy decision. Popping a can of beer, he went to the phone and ordered a pizza, then sat down on the couch and channel surfed until it arrived.
As he ate the pizza, he popped another can of Miller, chased it down with a shot of Seagrams, and stuck an old movie in the VCR. For at least the twenty-fifth time in his thirty-six years, he watched Casablanca, killed another Miller and Seagrams, and managed not to think of Jess for intervals of ten and fifteen minutes at a time.
* * *
"Good morning." Liz looked up from her computer with a welcoming smile.
"Good morning. Thank goodness the rain's over. Any calls?"
Liz handed her several pink telephone messages, and Jessica read through them quickly. None were from Doug. Of course not – why would there be? Telephone calls, roses, thank-you notes would not be Doug McGuire's modus operandi. The past two days without a sign of him had seemed like two years. Well, as they say, one had to face these things one day at a time.
She went into her chambers and was quickly joined by Liz, with a cup of coffee.
"You look like you need this."
Unable to sleep, Jessica had already drunk three cups of coffee that morning. Another cup would probably have her flying into the courtroom, rather than walking. Nevertheless, she took the proffered mug.
"Liz, have you ever had a one-night stand?"
Arching a brow, Liz eyed her warily. "What brought this on?"
"I was just wondering how you handle it."
Blowing on the coffee, Jessica leaned back in her chair. "Did you know I was a virgin when I met Dennis Wolcott?" She shook her head. "Yep, all
through school I kept myself squeaky clean – saved myself for Mr. Right."
"Do I denote a tone of regret?"
"I guess, but only because he turned out to be such a…" Jessica smiled as the image of Doug flashed through her mind. "…prick."
"This wouldn't have anything to do with Doug McGuire, would it?" Liz asked, in a voice weighted with concern. "I know I've teased you about him, but—"
"What makes you think that?" Jessica jerked up, almost spilling the coffee. She put the cup down on her desk.
"Honey, the truth's written all over that pretty face of yours. You want to talk about it?"
The phone rang. "Rotten timing." Liz gave her an apologetic look, and then hurried back to her desk to answer it.
At the moment Jessica wasn't ready to tell Liz about her bungled affair with Doug, but knowing her secretary, Liz would be relentless until she got the whole story. Disgusted with herself, Jessica sat back. She'd bungled again.
She just wasn't sophisticated enough to participate in boy and girl games.
When the morning session ended, rather than join Liz in the cafeteria, Jess asked her to bring a salad back when she finished her lunch. She knew if they went to lunch together, Liz would start pumping her about Doug.
Of course, the sensible thing to do would be to spill it all out and get it over with. In fact, with Liz's curiosity, no doubt she'd be back in minutes, a salad in hand for both of them.
Jess had just picked up a law book to look up a ruling when the chamber door opened.
"That was fast, Liz. I figured, you couldn't stay away too long." Laughing, Jess looked up.
Detective Douglas – I for irresistible – McGuire stood in the doorway.
He didn't look happy.
* * *
Chapter 7
«^»
Jessica's stomach began doing flip-flops, but she didn't even blink, waging a silent struggle to quash the exhilarating current that charged through her at his mere presence. Her voice even sounded normal to her ears – which now must be flushed to pink – when she asked, "Detective McGuire, what's your middle name?"
"Ian." He stepped into the room. "Why?"
"Curious, that's all. Do you have a problem, Detective?"
"Yeah, I've got a big problem."
"Legal or personal?"
"Personal." He closed the door. "Very personal."
Jessica became aware she was holding her breath, waiting for him to tell her he didn't want to see her anymore. As if she wouldn't have figured that out for herself.
"I want to apologize, Jess—"
Finding her breath, she interrupted him. "Apologies aren't necessary." No longer able to sit calmly and look him in the eyes, she bolted to her feet. "I understand perfectly. We're both adults – we knew what we were doing." She forced a game smile. "It was great while it lasted." Her brave smile faded to poignancy. "And I don't regret a minute of it, Doug, except for subjecting you to that insufferable ball the other night."
"Yeah, I was pretty bad. I'm sorry I embarrassed you."
"You didn't embarrass me, Doug. It's I who owe you the apology for putting you through it."
"You sound like you mean that," he said, surprised.
"Of course I do. You were a good sport for tolerating it."
He stepped closer. "It wasn't all that difficult. Matter of fact, that white satin dress you had on helped make it real tolerable." His sudden, shy grin, appealing in its boyishness – and uncharacteristic for this walking testosterone advertisement – rocked her back on her heels.
Her hand fluttered to her chest in a feminine gesture so maidenly it embarrassed her. "I didn't think you'd noticed."
"Oh, I noticed. I definitely noticed. That's the problem – that's what I came to talk about."
He stepped closer, invading her space, his nearness so male, so encompassing, she could feel the heat he generated. Her heart began pounding erratically.
"Well," she managed to get the word past the lump in her throat. "I'm glad to see we both understand that this, ah … kind of attraction happens. Fortunately, we're both mature enough to recognize it can often be a mistake."
"Yeah, a mistake. We'd be better off forgetting it ever happened, right?"
"Definitely."
"And we don't fit in each other's worlds, right?"
"That's right."
"Yeah, that's what I've been telling myself for the past couple days." He put his hands on her shoulders. "And it'd be another big mistake if I were to kiss you right now. Wouldn't it, Judge Jess?" He lowered his head.
The touch of his lips topped off the effect his nearness had set in motion. Reason or argument were eclipsed by the electrifying excitement of his kiss. And when it ended, she knew neither of them were ready – or able – to bring an end to their relationship.
"A big mistake, Detective. Doug, we're crazy, you know that?" she murmured, when he slid his mouth along her neck.
"Yeah, I know." That didn't stop him from working the buttons of her blouse. He slid in his hand and his warm palm found her flesh. The bra strap snapped when he forced his hand inside and cupped her breast.
An erotic shiver rippled her spine. She shuddered and he raised his head and stared into her eyes.
"Feeling the way we do, we'd be even crazier to give up each other." His head dipped and he took her nipple.
Sensation blackened her brain as he toyed and did tantalizing things with his tongue and mouth until every nerve in her body cried out for more. His mouth reclaimed hers as she groped for him wildly, desperate in her need to feel him inside her. Yanking up her skirt, he slid his hand between her legs, shoving aside the wispy crotch of her panties. Driven by urgency, her hands reached for his fly, and with trembling fingers she worked the zipper. His breathing turned ragged when she reached past the elastic of his boxers. He felt hard and hot, and she began to massage him, her own breath coming in gasps as his fingers probed inside of her.
"Judge Kirkland."
Even in the throes of passion, she recognized that it wasn't Doug calling her name. He heard it, too, because he froze in motion, and they stared in shock and disbelief at one another.
A rap sounded on the door, and her name was repeated. Now she recognized the caller's voice. Horrified, she remembered she'd asked the court reporter to bring her a copy of a transcript. If he thought she wasn't there, he'd open the door and put it on her desk.
"The bathroom," she whispered to Doug. They just made it, when Stanley Haley walked into her office and over to her desk.
"What in hell is he waiting for?" Doug whispered, when the clerk lingered at the desk.
Jessica buttoned her blouse and adjusted her skirt. Opening the bathroom door, she walked out.
"Oh, Stanley…"
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Judge Kirkland. I brought the transcript you asked for."
"Thank you, Stanley." She sat down at her desk and picked it up.
He started to back out. "Is there anything else you need, Judge Kirkland?"
She looked up and smiled kindly. Short and slightly built, what the young court reporter lacked in stature he counterbalanced with thoughtfulness toward everyone and a willingness to be helpful. From the time he'd been hired, Stanley had attached himself to Liz. On the other hand, Liz doted on him like a mother.
"No, this is fine. Thank you again, Stanley." After all, it wasn't his fault he'd picked the worst possible moment to deliver the transcript to her. On the other hand, she'd been conducting herself more like a sex-starved nympho than the dignified judge Stanley considered her to be.
As soon as he was gone, Doug came out of the bathroom, his clothing properly adjusted. "Close call."
"You bet it was. I don't know what got into me."
"Almost got into you," he corrected. "I'm still aching as proof."
She wasn't amused. "Well, I've learned a lesson."
"I hope so. The police have been advocating it for years – lock your doors."
"It's not funny, Do
ug."
"Worried about besmirching your reputation, Judge?" An undertone of irritation had crept into his voice. "The judge caught slumming with a cop?"
"That's not it at all. Must you always be so defensive, Doug? I just don't believe we should play bedroom games in my chambers."
"Then I'll get out of here. I'll pick you up at six o'clock. And strictly no black tie – wear jeans or shorts."
"Jeans or shorts? Is this another one of your exotic dinner invitations?"
"No, my softball game. If you're hungry, we can grab a sandwich afterwards."
"Softball!" She grinned wickedly. "I figured you as strictly a hardball player, McGuire."
He shook his head. "Shame on you, Judge Jess. Keep up those kind of remarks and you'll find your hands full of more than you can handle."
"In your dreams, McGuire."
He left the door open. Smiling, Jessica watched him walk as far as Liz's desk. Jessica saw that Liz had returned, and apparently chosen not to interrupt them. Doug paused long enough to say hello, then disappeared through the door of the outer office.
Liz spun around in her chair, and their gazes met. Picking up the plastic container of salad, she came into Jessica's chamber.
"Okay, honey, we need to talk."
* * *
Doug didn't even need to flash his badge at the guard in Jessica's building; the man buzzed him through as soon as Doug walked in the door.
Instead of heading for the elevator, Doug leaned on the counter. "You let just anyone go up to the judge's door whenever they want to?"
The man turned his attention from the television that played a closed circuit camera view of the underground parking garage. Several other monitors showed the hallways on various floors as well as a bird's-eye view of the front entrance.
"No, Detective. Judge Kirkland just called and asked me to send you straight up when you got here." His gaze flicked over Doug's white baseball pants, blue T-shirt with the precinct logo and regulation baseball cap. "Hot date?"
Doug hesitated, glanced back at the door through which a hot, sunny evening still shined. Maybe he should just go this alone.