by Jane Blythe
Could Detective Florence Harris be his one?
Was she the partner his mom had been for his dad?
He had no idea where things would go with him and Florence, but he knew that he was going to find out.
“Morning, Detective,” he drawled when he walked into the security office to find Florence sitting in a chair studying the screen in front of her.
Although she wasn't looking his way, he could feel her eye roll. “Good morning.”
“How’s your wrist?” he asked, eyeing her cast.
“Broken.”
She didn't sound angry, but he couldn’t help but wince. He’d broken her wrist when he tackled her, he couldn’t help but feel bad that he’d hurt her, even if it was an accident. It wasn't the way to make a good impression and win her over when he knew he was already on shaky ground. “Sorry about that.”
Florence turned around to face him. Her hair was up this morning, pulled into a bun at the back of her head, her face was mostly devoid of makeup bar a little gloss on her lips, and seeing her properly, when they weren't out in the dark, or he wasn't worried about how much pain she was in, Eli was struck by just how beautiful she was.
“You don’t need to apologize, like we established last night, you saved my life,” she said.
“You remember what that means, right?” he asked with a wink. “You're now my responsibility, which means I get to take you out for coffee. Or a trip to Florence.”
“I thought I was pretty clear last night that we wouldn’t be going on any date. In the country or out of it.”
“You said that, but then you disappeared on me, and I didn't get a chance to check in with you.”
“I thought you wanted me to go to the hospital.” She gave him a sweet smile.
“Touché.” He grinned back, when she relaxed and smiled like that she was breathtaking. “So, coffee today? After work maybe?”
“You're a persistent one, aren’t you?”
“It’s my middle name.”
“So, I know you gave your statement last night, but now that you’re here, why don’t you watch this with me, see if it jogs anything in your memory.”
She had ignored his second attempt at getting a date, but he could sense her weakening. She wanted to say yes, but something was holding her back. “I can stay and watch it with you.”
“Your boss won't mind?”
“Sweetheart, I am the boss,” he said with a chuckle. Florence obviously had no idea who he was, another thing he wasn't used to. People usually knew his identity and made up their minds about what kind of person he was before he even set foot in the same room.
“Oh, I thought this building belonged to Graham Morgan.”
“It does. I'm an old friend of his, and when I decided to move my real estate business back here, he offered to let me rent some rooms until I decided where I want to set myself up.”
“Real estate…Lennox…oh, you’re Eli Lennox, owner of Lennox Real Estate,” she said, the tone of her voice implied she’d just had something she’d been worried about confirmed. She was a confusing one, this woman, he wished he knew what made her tick.
“In the flesh.”
“So you weren't joking about going to Florence, were you?”
“Not in the least.”
“You didn't get a look at the driver, did you?”
“No. I wish I did. I was watching you while I was waiting for my driver and I saw the car heading for you, I didn't think, I just reacted.”
“If you'd hesitated I'd be dead.”
The thought that Florence might have died before he’d had a chance to get to know her didn't sit well with him. “Lucky I'm quick on my feet,” he quipped to lighten the mood.
“Yeah, lucky. What time exactly did you come out?”
“Just before quarter to ten.”
She fiddled with the computer and fast-forwarded through the footage, stopping just before the time he’d said. She pressed play, and they both watched as the security cameras caught a car come flying past. It was clear from what they could see that it had deliberately aimed right for Florence. The car didn't swerve or waver, the driver obviously wasn't drunk or high.
The attack had been deliberate.
Someone had wanted Florence Harris dead, but was it because the driver had just wanted to kill someone or had she been targeted?
As they watched they saw Eli go running across the road and tackle Florence, both of them rolling onto the pavement.
Tires screeched as the car took off, zooming out of screen.
Florence paused it just before it disappeared. She turned to him with a grin on her face. “Look at that. We got a nice clear shot of the license plate.”
* * * * *
2:16 P.M.
“I can't believe you figured out his pattern,” Jake Zeus said as they pored over the maps.
“It was just a hunch,” Florence told her partner, brushing off his praise. It was just observation, intuition, and good luck that she had managed to predict where the killer was going to dump his next body. “Do you think now that we figured out where he’s going to be that he’ll change things up?”
“Depends how set he is on following his modus operandi.” Jake studied the map for a moment longer and then said, “It all seems so obvious now that we know it, I can't believe we didn't see it before now.”
“We couldn’t have seen it until he did enough dumps.” The pattern needed enough bodies before you could see what he was doing, but now the fact that he was making an eye was obvious when you looked at the map. He was moving all across the city. The first ten body dumps had made a large circle, and the next four had started making a small circle in the middle. Once you knew what you were looking for, it was easy to see it.
“What made you think of an eye?” Jake asked.
“The fact that he cuts into the victims the same words. I am nothing. I was just thinking that when you think you're nothing, it’s because you think no one sees you, and because they don’t see you, you aren’t worthy of being seen. You're nothing. I looked at what we knew so far and thought that it looked like an eye. I used that to start searching dumpsters.”
“Next time you decide to go out looking for body dump sites, you should probably tell your partner.” He shot her a reproachful look.
“Sorry about that,” she said sheepishly. “But you have the baby, and this was off the clock. I thought I'd let you actually get some time with your family, and if it turned out I was on to something, I would have brought you in. I swear.” Florence didn't want Jake to think that she was shutting him out on purpose. He and his wife had a four-month-old baby at home, and he was always talking about how he hardly got any time to spend with them, she’d just been trying to cover every base.
“It’s okay.” Jake reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “But don’t do it again.”
“I won't,” she promised.
“So, we can add what we know to his profile, we’re getting closer to finding him.”
“The car led us to a rental agency, even though he paid them cash under the table to get them to rent him the car without a license, at least we have a description of him now.” It had been disappointing to track the license plate to a small car rental dealership and find out that someone had been paid a lot of money to agree to let him rent the car without a paper trail. Their killer was smart, and apparently he had a lot of money to throw around because he’d paid the dealership ten thousand dollars, enough to convince them to go against their policies.
“A description is better than nothing,” Jake reminded her.
That was true, but the description was nothing special—tall, medium build, short cut brown hair, hazel eyes, and a cleft chin. They might be able to use that once they already had their guy in custody, but it was unlikely it would lead them to the man’s identity. Still, the sketch would be shown on news stations today in the hopes that it might garner them some leads. More than likely, it would give them dozens of false leads, but again that was
better than nothing.
“So, where do we go from here?” she asked. They had the guy’s pattern, and they knew that he had driven on to the dumpster that had been next on her list after he’d tried to run her down, and left victim number fifteen. That was what had proved her initial speculation that it might have been the Dumpster Killer who had tried to hit her with his car. After she’d been pushed out of the way by Eli Lennox, he’d continued on to the dumpster, left the body, and then disappeared back into whatever hole he was hiding in.
Eli.
Why couldn’t she get him out of her head?
She wasn't looking for anything serious, and even if she were, Eli would be the last person she’d be looking at for a happy ever after.
Florence knew that he wasn't good for her. He was sexy, charming, and rich. He would chew her up and spit her out, and she’d never recover from it. Her childhood had been rough, and if there was one thing she had learned from it, it was that all she wanted was stability in her personal life. It was one thing to risk her life at her job, but if she was going to go home to someone, she wanted it to be someone she could count on.
Stability had been something she had longed for as a child. That and food, running water, and electricity. She would have gladly gone without all of those things if she’d had someone to take care of her, look after her, and love her. But she and her brother Fletcher hadn't even had that.
Men like Eli didn't want someone like her. They wanted a woman who would wear pearls, and attend parties, and be content to be a trophy wife. That wasn't her. Even knowing she would never have to worry about being cold, or dirty, or hungry ever again, she couldn’t live her life as a trophy wife.
Which meant no Eli.
Because no way was she going to be his next roll in the hay, then watch him lose interest and walk away.
“What’re you thinking about?”
She started, realizing that she’d zoned out, and knew her cheeks had pinked in embarrassment.
That was all it took for a slow grin to spread across Jake’s face. “You met someone.”
They’d been partners for three years now, long enough to learn each other’s facial expressions and body language. “No, I didn't.”
“You’re fibbing,” he sing-songed.
Before she could insist, a delivery man with a bouquet of flowers in his arms walked over toward their desks.
“I'm looking for a Detective Florence Harris,” the young man said.
“I'm Florence.” She stood and closed the couple of steps between them.
“Then these are for you.” The man handed her the flowers and headed back toward the lifts.
“Thought you said you don’t have a new boyfriend,” Jake said, curiosity brimming in his voice.
“I don’t,” she insisted.
“Then who’s sending you flowers?”
Setting them down on her desk, she saw a small envelope taped to the colorful paper, and she pulled it off and slid a small piece of card from inside.
Florence, I'm looking forward to getting to know you better over coffee.
Hope you like the flowers, I chose snapdragons because they remind me of you; fierce and beautiful.
Your savior ;-)
Eli’s confidence knew no bounds. She’d told him again this morning that she wasn't going to go on a date with him, and yet instead of believing her, he was sending her flowers and continuing to insist that sooner or later she’d go out with him.
Her phone rang, and she picked it up cautiously when she saw that it was an unknown number. “Hello?”
“Did you like the flowers?” a cocky voice drawled in her ear.
“Eli. How did you get my number?” She had decided against giving him her card in case he remembered anything about the car or its driver because she hadn't wanted him to misinterpret it as an invitation to keep asking her out.
“I have my ways.”
“Did you have someone look into me?”
“So paranoid, darlin’. No, I didn't have to. I called the precinct and told them who I was and that I had thought of something else about last night and asked for your number so I could call you. They gave it to me. So, dinner tonight?”
“You’ve gone from coffee to dinner?”
“Right about now, I’ll take whatever I can if it comes to spending time with you.”
The sincerity tugged her mouth into a reluctant smile. She’d never had a guy take such an interest in her that they would pursue her like this. The romantic side of her brain wanted to insist that he had to like her to go to all this trouble because as wealthy and good looking as he was, he could have his choice of women. The practical side of her brain insisted that this was just a challenge to him, he probably wasn't used to being turned down and he didn't like it, once he convinced her to date him and got her into bed, he’d lose interest and move on.
The two sides of her warred on, and she didn't know what to do.
Her body still felt the imprint of his hands touching her, her heart wanted to give it a go, thrilled at the possibility that someone might really care about her, but she was a woman who listened to her head, and it said run.
“Florence? You still there.”
“I'm still here. Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“I sense a but coming.”
She huffed a mirthless laugh. “I don’t think we’re a good match, Eli. We come from two different worlds. Thank you for saving my life, but I'm not going on a date with you. Goodbye.”
She ended the call and set the phone on her desk beside the bunch of flowers. She had made the smart move, the safe move, but it felt like she’d just made a mistake.
* * * * *
8:04 P.M.
This was not how he wanted to spend his evening.
No, strike that, this was how he wanted to be spending his evening, but the woman sitting across from him at the table wasn't who he wanted to be spending it with.
Eli would have canceled the blind date if Florence had agreed to go out with him, but she’d said no every time he’d asked, and at some point, he had to accept that chemistry wasn't enough. Just because he felt that sizzle of attraction, and just because he was sure that she felt it too, didn't mean that he could force her to let go of whatever fear was holding her back and give him a chance.
Didn't mean he had to like it.
If he knew a way to convince her that nothing bad would happen if they went on a date and got to know each other, he’d do it. But in order to convince her of that, he had to understand what her fears were, the only way to learn what her fears were was for her to trust him, and the only way for her to trust him was for the two of them to spend time together.
Which she wouldn’t agree to do.
So, he was stuck with no way forward, and it looked like the only option he had left was to just walk away.
“Eli,” his date whined. That sound really grated on his nerves.
“Yeah?” he said halfheartedly. He’d been dubious about this date even before he met Florence yesterday—was it really only yesterday? When he’d moved back to New York, he’d touched base with a couple of different old friends, and one of them had a sister who’d had a crush on him from back when they were all in college together. He couldn’t remember the sister, but he’d reluctantly agreed to one dinner. Not even really a date, just dinner, then they both went their own way.
After this nightmare of a date, they would definitely be going their own way.
Patricia Christian was impossibly thin, tall, only an inch or two shorter than his own six foot three. Despite her rail-thin body her breasts were huge, no doubt fake, not that he had a problem with that—every woman had the right to do whatever they wanted with their own body—he just didn't find them appealing.
Probably because all he could picture was Florence’s small, round, perfect breasts and everything he wanted to do to them. He wanted to roll her nipples between his fingers and watch them go hard, he wanted to suck them an
d watch her squirm, listen to her moans, and then he wanted to do a whole lot more to every other part of her body.
“Eli,” Patricia whined again, her too red lips pouting childishly.
“What?”
“You're not listening to me. What are you thinking about so hard that you're not listening to a word I'm saying?”
He wasn't going to tell his date that he was thinking about another woman, even if he wasn't interested in Patricia. And there wasn't a single thing about her that appealed to him. She was pretty, although she was wearing too much makeup, which again only reminded him how beautiful Florence was and how she didn't need makeup to accentuate it—and she was smart, he knew she had a high IQ because she’d told him several times. She seemed nice, and she was obviously excited about this date, but she was too obvious about her idea of the outcome.
She was here for sex, which she probably hoped would seal the deal, and sooner or later, she’d be Mrs. Eli Lennox.
Only he didn't play that game.
He’d grown up with the example of how marriage should be, two people who loved and respected each other both working toward the same goal. They supported each other, they were there for each other, they held each other when they needed to be held and gave each other a shove when they needed a shove. There was no way he would settle for any other kind of partnership when he got married.
When it all boiled down to it, he didn't see Patricia giving him that kind of marriage so it was over before it even began.
Forcing himself to focus, he asked, “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I was saying,” she said with exaggerated patience, “that dinner was superb, I think we should order dessert.”
He’d done his time, sat here for the last hour, he’d done his duty, it was time to cut and run. “Actually, I think I'm going to head off. Still dealing with jetlag,” he lied.
“Haven't you been back for months? Why are you still suffering jetlag?” Patricia demanded, clearly annoyed.
Eli just shrugged. Guess it was his lazy lion side coming out. He was done with this date, and if she didn't want to believe his lame lie and bow out gracefully then he’d just go with blunt. “Look, Patricia, I agreed to this date because your brother said that you’d wanted to meet me. It was never going to be more than one dinner. I'm sorry if you thought otherwise.”