by MCCOY, JUDI
Breathing as if she’d run a four-minute mile, Ellie licked her swollen lips as he sauntered down the stairs. Ryder’s tart, provocative taste lingered on her tongue, calling to mind strawberries and champagne, fine wine, and a chocolate cream doughnut all rolled into one.
She only had herself to blame for the sexually charged atoms bouncing through her nervous system. From the moment she’d climbed into his metal-plated tank, she’d had an idea something impossible might happen, yet she’d sat there thinking she was smarter than he, had more self-control, was strong enough to take whatever he dished out.
Sad to say, he’d proven her wrong. His mouth had been demanding, seeking more than she was ready to give, yet gentle enough to turn her bones to butter. A kiss to remember.
A pity it had come from Sam Ryder, a man with a big ego and an even bigger attitude.
Inhaling deeply, she willed her heart to slow its erratic pounding, gathered her composure, and turned to enter her apartment. A door downstairs slammed, and she guessed it was Vivian returning from her double date. Slipping inside, Ellie shrugged out of her coat, kicked off her shoes, and carried everything to her bedroom. That was when she caught Rudy staring. “What do you want?”
His brown eyes appraised her knowingly, and he gave a soft growl. “I see that cop again, I’m gonna lock on to his ankle so hard he’ll need the jaws of life to pry me off.”
She ignored the comment, tugged free of her clothes, pulled a sleep shirt over her head, and stuffed her feet into fuzzy pink slippers. Plopping on the edge of the mattress, she imagined Vivian would be at the door in a few minutes. Since she’d turned down Viv’s offer of a date, she had to act as if she’d been home all night doing nothing more taxing than reading or watching television.
Jumping on the bed, Rudy gave her one of his are-you-for-real looks. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I didn’t know I had to answer to you when I went out for the evening.”
“We had a deal, remember? You take care of me, and I take care of you. It’s hard to hold up my end of the bargain when you’re out on the town with a caveman, and I’m locked here in the apartment.”
Sometimes his mind-reading act was uncanny. Even more amazing was the expertise with which he piled on the guilt. “Have you been taking lessons from my mother?”
“Georgette hates me.”
“She’s never been an animal lover. I wasn’t allowed to have a dog when I lived at home, and even after I had my own place, she disapproved. I was shocked when she agreed to keep you—the old you—after the wedding.”
“And look how that turned out.”
Ellie narrowed her eyes. “She swore to me it was an accident. Is she lying?”
Rudy gave his version of the doggie shrug. “It’s water under the bridge.”
“Fine, but be aware I’m wise to your manipulations.”
“I’m just reminding you of our agreement. And warning you of the despicable detective at the same time.”
“I know we have an agreement, but I explained before I left why I couldn’t bring you with me tonight. And I didn’t expect to see—Hey, how did you know I was with Ryder?”
“Pheromones. When he’s around you, they roll off him like stink off a skunk. I smelled him through the door, heard him, too. He has some nerve, too, saying he can protect you better than me.”
“He wears a gun, though I don’t want to be around if he has to use it.”
“Big deal. I can grab a mugger’s butt and hold on like a steel trap. I’d protect you, Ellie, and I wouldn’t expect a thing in return . . . not the way that dime-store dick does.” He snuggled beside her and placed his head on her thigh. “You shouldn’t trust him.”
“He’s an officer of the law.”
“I don’t care if he’s the pope. He’s still a man.”
A knock echoed from the hall, and Ellie jumped. “How do I look? Relaxed? Sleepy? In control?” Leaving the room, she muttered, “Viv can read me almost as good as you can,” and hurried to the foyer.
The moment the door opened, Vivian’s smile faded. Dressed in the identical outfit she’d worn to work that morning—a black cashmere turtleneck under a red DNKY jacket and matching pencil skirt with black hose—she appeared professional yet ready for anything the night had to offer. Staring, she opened and closed her mouth. “Oh my God. You had sex!” Her gaze narrowed a fraction. “Oops. Not quite, but you did suck face.”
“For the love of—Is sex the only thing you ever think about?” Ellie stepped back and motioned her inside. “Talk about a one-track mind.”
Ellie marched to the kitchen, opened the freezer, and brought out two pints of Caramel Cone. Was there an ice-cream company that made a flavor mimicking strawberries and champagne, she wondered, or one that tasted like the creamy filling in a chocolate doughnut?
After smacking Viv’s container and spoon on the table, she wrestled with the plastic seal on her own fresh carton. “Here, finish this tonight. It’s taking up room in my freezer.”
“No need to be such a grump,” Viv said. “If I had to guess, which I do because it’s obvious you’re not going to tell me, I’d bet you were canoodling with that detective.” She stuffed a glob of ice cream in her mouth. “How’m I doing?”
“You’re right. I’m not talking,” said Ellie around the lump of chocolate and caramel melting on her tongue.
“Is that the thanks I get for trying to fix you up with a white-collar type? It would have helped if you’d told me you went for swaggering NRA members instead of professional men.”
Viv’s observation had Rudy yelping with laughter.
Ellie sent him a glare, then said, “A simple ride home isn’t enough to tell me if Sam Ryder is an NRA member. I mean, I don’t have any idea what kind of guy he is.”
“Uh-huh.” Viv glanced at Rudy, who was sitting at Ellie’s feet wearing an I-told-you-so expression. “Why is your pal staring like that?”
“He’s hoping to snag a taste of Häagen-Dazs,” Ellie lied.
“So, Rudster,” Vivian began, “what do you think of the big, bad detective?”
“Don’t answer that,” Ellie snapped, then quickly recovered. “Stop asking my dog questions. You know he’s not capable of a response.”
“Says who? I chatter to Twink most days, and sometimes I swear he’s ready to comment. And don’t deny that you talk to Rudy when you think no one is listening, because I’ve heard you do it.”
“It’s a habit I developed when the D worked late. I babbled to myself. Now I babble to Rudy. That’s all.”
“Get back to tonight,” Viv ordered. “If it wasn’t the detective you kissed, then who?”
Ellie swallowed another spoonful of ice cream.
“Wait. Was it that veterinarian guy? The one named after a bird. Dr. Crow? Or was it Swan?”
“Dr. Crane, and no, it wasn’t him.” No sense lying. Viv would probably hunt down Dr. Dave and give him the third degree, which would be totally embarrassing. “Much as I hate to admit it, you were right the first time.”
Vivian put down her container and sat back, a grin gracing her cover-girl lips. “And . . . ?”
“And what?”
“How was it?”
“How was what?”
Viv leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. “Cute does not become you. You’re not the cute type. Now was it a kiss? Or was it a kiss?”
Heat rose from Ellie’s chest and inched to her neck. “It was . . . okay.”
“How did it happen?”
“Lips met lips in the usual manner.”
“There you go, trying to be cute again. You know what I mean. Did he sneak up on you and make it quick, or ram you against a wall and plant a big, wet one? Was there lots of tongue, or just a lot of spit? And what about his hands?”
“You’re gross.” And it was so not sneaky or quick, but it had been good enough to make her panties wet—something she would never admit to anyone. “How about if I say it was good
, and leave the rest up to your imagination?”
“Did he grope you in the hallway or inside the apartment?”
Ellie tsked. “All right, can your imagination. There was no groping, just hands holding me steady while we shared a moment at the door.”
Viv folded her arms across her formfitting black sweater and shook her shoulder-length fall of hair. “You are such a liar.”
Yeah, I am, Ellie admitted to herself. “Since when do you kiss and tell?”
“I’d spill my guts if you asked me, but you never do. Want to know about the last time Jason and I did it? It was in the kitchen, and he sat me up on the—”
Ellie slammed her palms over her ears. “Stop. I don’t want to hear.”
Viv’s smile grew wide. “See what I mean?”
“Change of subject. Want to go to dinner at my mother’s tomorrow night?” Please say yes. “I’m bringing Rudy, so you can bring Mr. T.”
“A night with the ex-terminator? No, thanks. I have an appointment for a root canal.”
“Very funny.”
“Okay, then I have a date. The attorney from tonight asked me out.”
“You’re cheating on Jason,” Ellie said without inflection. “That’s not nice.”
“I keep telling you, we have an agreement. Jason can see other women if he wants, just like I can see other men.”
“But he doesn’t.”
Viv capped her carton. “Not my problem.”
“It’s your life.” Ellie frowned. “And mine is mine.”
“All right already, I get the hint.” Viv stood. “One more question, then I’m out of here.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“Are you going to sleep with him?”
“Him . . . you mean Ryder?”
“No, I mean Hannibal Lecter. Yes, I mean Ryder.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Because . . .”
“Because he’s not—we’re not going to—we’re not right for each other. We met at a woman’s apartment by accident tonight. Her schnauzer was stolen the same way someone took Buddy.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Wish I was. I got to her place first, hoping to get info that would help me locate Buddy. Ryder arrived as I was leaving. Needless to say, he didn’t approve of my snooping.”
“And that led to his kissing you?” Viv propped her backside against the counter. “Sorry, but that’s a stretch, even for me.”
“He bought me dinner first,” she confessed.
“Somewhere fancy?”
“A deli.”
“Big spender.”
“That’s why it wasn’t a date. Besides, we did a lot of arguing. When things got personal, he insisted on driving me home and walking me to the door.”
“And then things got really personal.”
“It just sort of happened. Took me by surprise, or I would have ducked and made my escape.”
“Uh-huh.”
Ellie hated trading punches with Viv, because it was worse than arguing with Rudy, who was curled in a ball under the table watching with interest. “Okay, so maybe I was hoping something would happen . . . just to see what it was like. It’s been a while since my libido’s seen any action. I wanted to make sure it still worked.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. And does it?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Vivian nodded. “That means you’re ready.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask—ready for what?”
“To jump back into the dating pool. We’ll start slow, coffee or drinks. That stockbroker was cute, in a nerdy sort of way. He mentioned he was free, said he’d still like to meet you. Blow off your visit to Georgette tomorrow night, and I’ll call him.” She headed for the door. “Okay?”
Ellie stood. “Not okay. According to mother, Stanley wants to see me, and I’d hate to disappoint him. Besides, once I go over there, I’m off the hook for at least a month. Then we’ll see.”
Stopping at the front door, Vivian spun on her heels. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Praise Jesus and all the saints.” She grinned. “But I have a question.”
“It had better be your last,” Ellie warned her.
“If Ryder asks you out, will you say yes?”
Ellie opened the door and shoved Viv into the hall. “I doubt it. See you in the morning.”
Vivian’s steps faded, and Ellie locked up. Ready to hop into bed, she practically stumbled over Rudy, holding his leash in his mouth, when she turned. “Oops, guess you need to go out. Just let me get my coat.”
He peered up at her through sad brown eyes. “Did you mean what you said about that cop?”
Ellie shrugged into her jacket, glanced at her fuzzy slippers, and decided it was too late to worry about fashionable footwear. She led him out the door. “I meant it.”
But she was a terrible liar.
Chapter 12
Sam stuffed his fists into his trench coat pockets and squared his shoulders, focusing on the local action as he walked to his car. Except for a few pedestrians and a trio of teenagers playing handheld video games on a front stoop, the area was quiet, or at least as quiet as was possible for Manhattan at nine o’clock in the evening. The only other citizens of note were a couple on the steps of a brownstone, their mouths and bodies fused together so tightly he doubted there was room for a sheet of paper between them.
The X-rated sight sent him reeling like a prize-fighter KO’d in the first round. Was that the way he and Ellie had looked only moments ago—lips locked, hips joined, legs entwined as they wrestled against the wall in her apartment hallway?
He’d been a cop for a lot of years, and not once had he lost it, even when his fingers itched to slam a punk against the bricks or immobilize a killer. He believed himself to be a sane, sensible adult male working a stressful job, able to keep his act together and stay in control . . . until he found himself within ten feet of the buttinsky dog walker tough-girl-in-training. So what was it about her that sent his testosterone level soaring and made him lose his cool?
Good thing he’d escorted her into the building before he’d jumped her bones. Then again, if he’d been thinking straight, he wouldn’t have gone near her to begin with. Thanks to her uncanny knack of being where she didn’t belong, she’d forced him to break one of his personal rules concerning members of the opposite sex: Never strong-arm a woman, unless in the performance of his duty and, even then, curtail the rough stuff.
She wasn’t a criminal, yet he’d manhandled her in his car, and hoisted her against a wall in an attempt to tame her sassy mouth. Though it was only a single kiss, it had been so heated, he was still sweating, and surprised they hadn’t set the building on fire. The erotic interchange had left him so damn frustrated he’d probably be up all night, reliving the experience while his cock enjoyed the instant replay every time it ran.
And what the hell had possessed him to throw out that last crack about her dog? He shook his head. When Fugazzo got off family leave, he was going to make a couple of phone calls, then take a weekend off. There had to be a few ladies he’d dated in the past who were still available and willing to end his drought between the sheets.
Reaching his car, he inspected the paper-free windshield and grunted in approval. One ticket a night was all that his buddy in Violations had promised to make disappear. After removing the flashing dome, he slid behind the wheel and stuck the light under the front seat. Now what?
Stay away from Ellie Engleman, the logical part of his brain advised. Far, far away.
He could follow his own advice, provided she stopped sticking her nose into police business. Unfortunately, something told him that trick wasn’t in the cards. He’d probably have to do something drastic, maybe arrest her for obstructing an ongoing investigation to keep her from showing up like that friggin’ bad penny wherever he went. The woman was everything he’d accused her of and then some.
Obstinate? Hell, she was
stubborn as a mule.
Contrary? He expected to see her picture next to the word in the dictionary.
And it went without saying that she was disobedient. She ignored his orders at every turn, and he’d bet his bullets she had no intention of obeying the last one. No doubt about it, she was hardheaded to a fault . . . but damn, she could kiss.
Steering the car into the street, he aimed for home. He had a lot of thinking to do, about both the case and the exasperating dog walker. Besides her tenacious demeanor, she had a gift for putting the pieces together. Though she swore she didn’t watch cop shows, she also seemed to have an instinct for talking to the right people, ferreting out the particulars, and drawing a logical conclusion.
But she was a civilian with no training, no knowledge of procedures, and absolutely no idea what she might be getting herself into. Finding the professor’s killer was his job—not hers. He had too much on his plate to babysit amateur detectives, even if they were on the right track.
On a positive note, talking to Rita Millcraft had given him a thread that could lead to Albright’s killer. He might even find a third or fourth link, once the boys in Stolen Property heard he was interested in anything they had on missing mutts. When that happened, things would fall into place and he’d catch his man.
His cell phone rang as he climbed from his car. Glancing at the readout, he groaned. His ex-wife was the last person he wanted to speak with tonight.
“Ryder,” he said as he took the stairs to his apartment.
“Would it hurt to be civil? I know you have caller ID.”
“I’m busy, Carolanne. What do you want?”
“I thought you might appreciate knowing that my father passed away early this morning. I left a couple of messages, but as usual, you haven’t returned a single one.”
Frank Jeffers had been a good man, someone Sam admired. The retired dockworker had been well aware he had a flake for a daughter, and had commended his son-in-law for sticking with the marriage for as long as he had. Sam had seen Carolanne’s number earlier in the day and, as accused, ignored it, unwilling to get involved in their normal war of words.
He blew out a breath. “I didn’t know he was sick. I wish you’d told me.”