“Let me guess,” she said, turning back to the car. “Sixty-eight—no, wait.” As she got closer she seemed to be studying the taillights; then she turned to Damian with a smug smile. “Sixty-nine, right?”
“Yeah.” Damian smiled, impressed. “How’d you know that?”
She walked alongside the car, her finger tracing the curved edge of hood. “My uncle was a classic-car enthusiast. He got me into classic cars. He was in a classic-car club—let me ride along with them and everything. He even took me to a lot of car shows. He was saving up to buy an old car and rebuild it himself and promised to let me help him.”
Damian had never seen someone go from hot to cold as quickly and as often as she did. When he’d walked out of her dressing room earlier so that she could change, she had looked very drained, and despite the playful conversation they’d been having he noticed a change in her suddenly—a distinct unease. Then she walked out smiling brightly. Damian had been happy Simon was onstage by the time she came out, because he got the annoying impression that Simon was waiting to give Bethany another too-near-the-lips kiss good-bye. Her bright smile had turned into excitement about his car, and now she was suddenly looking solemn again.
“My aunt said the car clubs my uncle was part of might as well have been gangs, because they acted a lot like them. They even had turf wars. My uncle wasn’t violent or anything. He didn’t even own a gun, but . . .” She shrugged, running her finger over the hood of the Camaro. “He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time and was shot by a stray bullet during one of the arguments his club was having with a rival club.” Her eyes finally met Damian’s again. “He was only twenty-one.”
“I’m sorry” was all Damian could think of to say.
She smiled softly, glancing into the car. “That was a while back, but my fascination with these classic cars didn’t die when he did. I still follow a lot of car blogs and stuff online and watch the restoration shows on TV whenever I can.”
That got Damian’s attention. “Do you now?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling a bit more genuinely. “They fill a void, I guess.”
Damian got into the car, feeling a strange excitement. This could be a good thing. He leaned over and unlocked the passenger door.
Bethany’s fragrance filled Damian’s car almost as soon as she sat down. She began putting her seat belt on. Damian had a million questions, but he stopped cold when he saw her pulling the clip out of her hair, and she shook her head gently so the long lush strands of hair fell over her shoulders.
“Beautiful,” she said, taking the words right out of his mouth, but she was talking about something entirely different from what he was thinking. Her hands caressed the dash of his car as if it were a work of art.
Damian couldn’t agree more, but then it had been restored and detailed by the very best. Still, his eyes had only been on the dash and her fingers caressing the metal and wooden details for a moment before they were on her loosened hair again. She smiled when she looked away from the dash and saw he was looking at her in as much awe as she had been looking at the dash. He cleared his throat and straightened out in his seat, turning on the ignition.
“So what’s the deal with your boss cutting your show short?” Damian pulled out of the parking space and onto the street.
With a sigh, she turned and looked out the window. “I tend to get dizzy spells when I go too long without eating. Between my other two jobs this morning and then finishing up an article for my internship at the Desert Informer, I didn’t have time to grab anything to eat before my show. So after the show I got a little lightheaded and sort of lost my footing as I made it back to the dressing room. Amos had to help me the rest of the way there.” She shrugged, glancing back at him. “I’ve known Amos and Simon for some time now, and they both know how I run myself ragged. Amos has always thought I work too much. So when I pitched him the idea of my show, he was against it for that very reason. Said he didn’t wanna add to my already packed schedule and be responsible for me collapsing from exhaustion or anything. Simon had already told him about some of the things that’ve happened to me because of my lack of rest.”
Curious, and a little concerned now himself, Damian peered at her inquiringly. “Like what?”
To his surprise, she laughed so sweetly it made him smile. “I got locked in the school library a few months ago.” As they came to a stop sign, he turned to her in time to see her bring her hand to her mouth and laugh some more. “I laugh now, but it was pretty embarrassing, not to mention I missed my internship that day. I fell asleep while trying to get my notes caught up at the community college library since their Wi-Fi is one of the best in my area. Which,” she laughed even more now, “wasn’t the first time that’s happened, by the way. But normally they don’t close the library up during the day. That day the staff had something going on somewhere else in the school, so they closed up and locked the library and didn’t notice I was still in there. It was so embarrassing when they all finally got back, and I had to explain what I was doing in there.”
From the moment Damian had gotten past Amos and was able to get a glimpse into her dressing room, he’d had a hard time keeping his smile toned down. By now the smile on his face was beginning to feel like a permanent fixture. Just hearing her laugh and seeing that genuinely cheerful smile had him smiling again from ear to ear. Then something else hit him. “So, wait. You haven’t eaten anything yet?”
She abruptly stopped smiling and thought about it, pinching her brows together, concentrating so hard for a moment even that made him smile. “No, I guess I haven’t.”
Remembering his intact dinner plate at intermission that he never went back to, his smile grew wider. “I hardly touched my dinner, so I’m actually pretty hungry, too. You wanna grab something before I drop you off?” Before she could say no, he added, “You really should get something if you say going without makes you dizzy.” He glanced at his watch. “It is almost eight.”
The bright eyes were back suddenly. “You like pupusas?”
Damian thought about it. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually had one.”
“Oh, they are so good. My best friend when I was growing up was Salvadoran, and her mom made the best pupusas ever. Think corn tortilla only thicker and stuffed with cheese, beans, or meat. My favorite is the chicharrón and cheese. Oh, my God.” She sat up straighter, laughing. “My mouth just watered thinking about it. I guess I am starving. There’s a pupusería not too far from here, and they’re by far the best I’ve ever had next to my friend’s mom’s.”
Seeing her excitement over a pupusa and knowing he’d be spending a little more time with her tonight than he expected, the damn smile was plastered on his face again. “Tell me which way. Now you made me even hungrier.”
The place she led him to was exactly what he expected in this part of town, but he was so enthused about it, he didn’t want to knock it. The food was actually really good and the place was clean enough, it was just the location it was in that was questionable. And obviously a small mom-and-pop pupusería on this side of town was not going to be anything fancy.
The whole time he sat there, as she went on and on about the other Salvadoran dishes her childhood best friend’s mom made for her over the years, Damian couldn’t get over one thing: what a difference a few hours had made. Not too long ago, he’d been utterly awestruck by this young girl. At moments her seductive eyes almost felt as if she might be toying with him, and even with that in mind, he’d been sucked into it completely.
Now she sat here fresh-faced, looking younger than either the time at the speed date or when she’d been onstage tonight. That same deliciously sensual woman who’d sung to him in such a carnal way that it left him thunderstruck, even after she’d left the stage, was now sitting across from him laughing and having a completely down-to-earth conversation with him.
As much as he hated for their dinner to end, after getting caught up in her beautiful, playful eyes too many times, he did
have to admit they were looking noticeably tired. Wrapping things up, they headed back to his car.
“So are you a fan now?” she asked as she placed her seat belt on.
“Of you? Absolutely.”
He turned to her in time to catch her timid smile—a first for her. So far he’d seen the slow, seductive smile and the adorable, infectious one. This was different. Had he actually embarrassed her?
“I meant the Salvadoran food, but thanks,” she said, fiddling with a strand of hair in what he knew was a sure sign she was embarrassed.
Smiling smugly, he pulled out of the parking lot. “Yeah, I am. I’ll have to come back and try the other dishes you talked about. You sold me on them.”
They passed a building where there were a few patrol cars out front. Damian noticed how Bethany stared at them. “Would that be you if you weren’t off today?”
“I wasn’t off today,” he explained. “I actually drove down here when I got off work. And no, that wouldn’t be me. I stopped patrolling over a year ago. I’m a homicide detective now.”
He turned to her, curious about what expression she’d indulge him in now. “Really?” her wide-eyed stare didn’t disappoint. “Wow. You actually get to see murdered people and stuff?”
“Yeah.” Damian frowned now. Talking about his job was usually pretty interesting until they got to the gruesomeness of it. And Bethany had jumped right to it. She must’ve mistaken his agitation for sadness, because she reached over and touched his leg. That simple touch was enough to make him smile again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so blunt.”
Surprised, he allowed an unexpected laugh to escape him, and Damian shook his head. It amused him how easily she could go from being adorably playful to being genuinely compassionate.
“Nah, that’s okay. I’m used to my job.” He smiled at the crinkle between her eyes; clearly she was still feeling very sorry. “Relax, this may sound a bit disturbing, but there are many aspects of my job I actually enjoy.”
The curiosity in her eyes intensified at that. She officially reminded him of his four-year-old niece, Carey. Carey listened to any story he told her with such intensity, taking in every detail, sometimes forgetting to blink, like someone who would be tested on it later. Bethany was now staring at him just like that.
“Really? What do you like about it?”
With a quick lift and drop of his shoulder, he stared straight ahead. “I like catching the bad guys. Sometimes it takes a while, and it can be extremely frustrating, but in the end there’s nothing like knowing all the hard work paid off and the bad guy is behind bars.”
She turned to make herself more comfortable as he continued, making him glance at her. Throughout their pupusa dinner, he’d picked up on a few of her habits. Like the way she licked her lips clean after every bite or drink she took. And how she’d sink her teeth into her bottom lip when she was really listening, as she was now, but it was distracting as hell. She didn’t speak or respond to what he’d just said, as if she was waiting for him to go on.
“So it’s, uh, very rewarding when we get to tell the families of the victims that the suspects have been caught, and they can sleep better at night now. A feeling I’ll never get tired of. Makes it all worth it, you know?” He tilted his head. “Does that make sense?”
He watched her curiously as that last question sank in, sure that like his father she wouldn’t get it either—wouldn’t understand how he could be so devoted to putting countless hours into a job where his life was constantly at risk. Of course his father had an even harder time understanding this, since in his eyes Damian was just being stubborn. He could very easily give up his dangerous job and join the family business. Either that or live off the investments he’d made in the last few years.
“Nothing like doing what you enjoy for a living, huh?” Her eyes went a little solemn again, as they had earlier when she spoke of her uncle.
“It’s what most people dream of,” he maintained.
Bethany took a very deep breath, looking back at him. “You’re preaching to the choir, Damian. It’s what I dream to be doing full-time someday. So it makes perfect sense to me.” Feeling more relieved than he expected, he now wanted to know what her dream job was, but before he could ask, her expression eased up suddenly and her big eyes brightened again. “I almost interviewed a cop once.”
Seeing the sudden excitement in her big eyes and her quick change in mood again, he smiled. “Interviewed?”
“Yeah, for the paper,” she said, then gestured for him to switch lanes. “You’re gonna turn right at the next light.”
Damian turned on the street as she had asked him. She pointed at an old building with a couple of questionable-looking guys standing outside smoking. “This is it.”
Having worked this area quite a bit, Damian knew this entire neighborhood was a cesspool. Not a positive thing could be said about it. Nothing but crackheads, prostitutes, and drug dealers. What was a nice girl like Bethany doing living in an area like this? Surely she had to have some family she could stay with anywhere else but here.
“You live alone?” He pulled in and parked right in front of her building. The guys in front of the building were staring at them now, and he glared back.
“Yeah, I live alone.” She turned in the direction he was glaring and smirked. “You don’t have to do that, you know, detective. They’re my neighbors.”
“Just ’cause they’re your neighbors doesn’t mean they’re not trouble,” Damian informed her, for a moment distracted by those playful eyes of hers, before looking back at the guys, who’d since stopped staring. “I’ve been spotting trouble for years, and, trust me, these guys are trouble.”
“They don’t scare me,” she said with that same defiance he’d heard in her voice when she tried to argue she’d be okay walking home. “I’ve lived here for months, and they’ve never given me any trouble.” Looking back at her, he caught the way she eyed his chin, then quickly brought her eyes back to his.
Damian couldn’t help frowning. “They don’t scare you? They look like thugs, and believe me when I say I know thugs. They should scare you. So you haven’t been out here long?” Another worrisome factor; obviously she wasn’t aware how bad this area really was.
Once again she did an about-face in a split second. “Almost eight months,” she said, reaching for the door handle as if she were suddenly in a hurry.
“I’ll walk you in,” Damian said, already opening his own door.
She started to protest, but he was out of the car before she could finish. By the time Damian reached her side, she was out, too. He caught his breath when he saw her standing before him. It was as if he were seeing her for the first time again. No eighties makeup, no seductive cabaret singer. Just a fresh-faced, sweet-looking girl in jeans and a tank, and he couldn’t decide which look he liked more.
“Well, thanks for the ride, Damian.” She saluted him with a small smile, their eyes meeting in that special way they had throughout her entire show, for just a moment. Then she looked away. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
Damian stood there even after she’d walked into the building and closed the door behind her. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but he didn’t feel comfortable until he was reasonably sure she was safely in her apartment.
The guys out front gave him a once-over as he walked around his car to the driver’s side. About to get in, he heard something up above. A window in Bethany’s building opened, and her head popped out. Her big, dazzling smile was back.
“Hey, Damian, I never finished telling you about my almost interview with the cop.”
The guys out front were all looking up now, too, and already there were chuckles. Damian wasn’t at all thrilled that they all now knew which window was the one to her apartment. Did she really plan on telling him about the interview now, from up there?
“Yeah, I know. We got off-track.”
“It was a few months ago. I never got through it.�
� She started giggling again. Apparently she was going to tell him from the window. “I made a joke about him not trying to sell me tickets to the highway patrolmen’s ball.”
She laughed harder now and got Damian going even though he had no idea why she was laughing. Her head disappeared back in the window, and it popped out again, but this time she put her head on her arm.
“Then he said,” and she couldn’t finish, bringing her hand to her mouth, her laughter hitting a higher pitch. God, she was adorable. Every little detail about her was slowly drawing him more to want to get to know her better.
She tried again. “He said highway patrolmen don’t have balls!”
The guys downstairs started laughing, and her head disappeared back in the window. Damian laughed at the thought of her rolling around on her floor. Was she not coming back out? He waited a few more minutes. Her head popped out again. She’d regained her composure but lost it again as soon as she looked at him, shaking her head and burying her face in her hand in apparent embarrassment over her silliness. He was lucky she was way up there, or he probably would’ve had to fight the urge to grab her and kiss her.
“Is that the whole story?” That sweet laugh was something he could very easily get addicted to.
She nodded, wiping tears away from her eyes. “Yeah, as you could imagine, I never got through the interview.”
“Oh, yeah,” Damian couldn’t even remember the last time someone made him smile so much. “I can imagine.”
Chapter 5
Damian hadn’t been able to get hold of Jerry that night, and for the following few days, they either texted or played phone tag. Jerry had his hands full with Ashlynn and her mother, and Damian had been immersed in work. He texted Jerry, explaining briefly how he’d spoken to Bethany and that he’d given her a ride home. The following day, Damian woke to an overapologetic voicemail from Jerry about leaving him hanging that night and how grateful he was, saying he owed Damian one.
Desert Heat Page 5