How to Seduce a Cavanaugh

by Marie Ferrarella

  He tried to catch the sentence himself, but failed. “Something about money—”

  It almost came back to her. “That it was supposed to buy peace of mind?” It was more of a question to check if that was the phrase he was trying to recover.

  For a split second, Kane lit up like a veritable Christmas tree. By the time he said, “Right!” his face had returned to its regular, somber expression.

  “O-kay,” she drew out, having no idea what her partner was driving at. “And this particular little set of words is important to you because...?” She waited for Kane to fill in the blank space.

  “Because it made me realize that we need to look at Osborn’s financials,” Kane told her.

  She nodded, game. “Anything in particular that we’re looking for?”

  “We’re going to see if Osborn is as financially secure as he’d like the world to believe he is.” Enthusiasm surging through him, Kane took the turn a little too sharply. Kelly braced her hand against the glove compartment to keep from sliding on to the car’s floor.

  She stared at Kane for a minute, and then it was as if she could suddenly tap into his train of thought. Now it made sense. “You’re thinking Osborn orchestrated his own home invasion because he needed the insurance money he’d get for the paintings if he claimed they were stolen.”

  The moment she said the words out loud, she was convinced this actually could be a viable possibility.

  “It’s true what they say,” Kelly said. “Desperate men do desperate things. The thief gets to fence the paintings and the antique pistol, while Osborn gets to collect on the insurance money. As far as he can see, Osborn probably views this as a win-win situation.”

  Even though it was his theory, Kane wasn’t entirely sold on it. There was a sticking point that bothered him.

  “Osborn did look genuinely angry about being robbed and tied up.” He reviewed another point from a different angle. “I supposed that for a large lump sum of money a lot of people would be more than willing to put on a believable act.”

  Her partner sounded as if he was arguing with himself. She was tempted to ask if he was engaged in a private fight, or if it was it open to everyone, but at the last minute, she thought it might be useful to get the plan of action straightened out.

  “So we don’t talk to the rest of his so-called country-club buddies?”

  Kane glared at her as if he couldn’t figure out where she had gotten that idea. “We’ll still talk to them, but the more options we consider, the better our odds of solving this thing.”

  Kelly nodded, doing her best to remain positive. “That sounds good to me.”

  “Oh, good, now that I have your blessing we can proceed.”

  She allowed annoyance to slip over her features. There was no point in trying to keep it all in. She’d probably wind up getting an ulcer if she kept going this route. So she gave Kane a piece of her mind, something she wouldn’t have considered doing before.

  “You know, up until just now, I was beginning to really admire you,” she told Kane.

  Getting her to keep talking, Kane felt he might get some further insight into the way her mind worked. It was never too late to try something new—and giving her a partial kid-glove treatment was definitely something new for him.

  “And now?” he challenged.

  He could be really arrogant if he wanted to be, Kelly thought. And he obviously wanted to be this time around. “And now all I can say is you’re lucky we’re not standing by the edge of a pool because you’d find yourself suddenly needing a change of clothes.”

  He inclined his head as if he was taking all of this in, unfazed. “And you’d find yourself on the wrong end of a murder charge.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If you pushed me into a pool, you’d be guilty of homicide.”

  She stared at him. How did he figure that? “I don’t follow your—”

  “I can’t swim,” he told her in a flat voice.

  “You’re a Californian,” she reminded him. “Of course you can swim.”

  Damn but she could be obtusely stubborn if she wanted to be, he thought. “Contrary to what you seem to believe, Californians are not born with gills and water wings attached to their bodies. Nor are they born with the ability to immediately tread water.”

  “You really can’t swim,” she marveled in compete disbelief.

  Since she had been the one he’d used as an unwitting sounding board, he felt he had to cut her just a tiny bit of slack. So he repeated it one more time. “I really can’t swim.”

  “Why didn’t you ever learn?” she asked, still having trouble processing the idea that someone who lived in an area where he could go swimming year-round hadn’t learned how to swim. Her father had been adamant that she and all her siblings learn by the time they went to kindergarten.

  “Can we just drop this?” he said. It was not a request.

  “Okay,” she allowed. “But if you ever decide you want to learn how to do a few simple things that’ll keep you afloat, I’d be more than happy to teach you. It could save your life someday,” she added on.

  The look he shot her as he took a right turn told her that the man obviously thought he’d be a fool to put his life in her hands by taking her up on her offer.

  Out loud he said, “I’ll get back to you on that.” His tone indicated it would be slightly ahead of when hell was scheduled to freeze over and become a skating pond.

  * * *

  Three hours later, back in the squad room and slowly going cross-eyed, she heard Kane bite off a few choice words. Looking up from the computer search she was conducting, Kelly took a semiwild guess as to the source of his less than jovial mutterings.

  “I take it that the financial angle didn’t pay off the way you thought it might?” she asked.

  “Not really,” he admitted. “Osborn made a few bad investments and his accounts have gone down some in the last year, but nothing major. Certainly nothing that would compel the man to suddenly mastermind stealing his own paintings.”

  She could see that Kane appeared somewhat disappointed about this last turn of events. “Well, it was a good idea,” she told him, then added, “Too bad it didn’t pan out.”

  The sentiment she expressed had Kane laughing rather drily. There was no humor in his voice or in his eyes.

  “The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” he said in disgust.

  Now he was just throwing phrases around for the sake of throwing them, she thought. “And there’s a connection there how?”

  “None,” he admitted after a beat. “I’m beginning to babble like you.” He seemed rather appalled at the mere suggestion he was behaving in a similar manner.

  She smiled brightly at him. So he was reachable.

  “Knew there was hope for you,” she told Kane. “Feel like taking a break from all this—” she gestured at the laptops on their desks “—and talk to some snobbish rich people?” Although, she added silently, she’d welcome another kind of break with this strong, silent type. A break that had nothing to do with law enforcement and everything to do with getting to know her partner better. Intimately better.

  Knock it off, Kelly, she ordered herself. They had a case to solve, not an itch to scratch.

  He sighed and got to his feet. Her invitation sounded anything but promising, much less interesting. But right now no other options were on the table.

  “Might as well. This isn’t getting us anywhere,” he grumbled, nodding at the computer screen and the records he’d managed to access.

  Kelly never lost a step as she hustled to keep up with him.

  Questioning the rest of the people on the list they had obtained from the country-club director proved to be just as frustrating and fruitless as the rest of their day had been.
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  “Did the CSI people come up with anything yet?” Kane asked her after the seventh interview had gone the way of the other six they had conducted, marathon-style.

  She tried to find a comfortable spot in the passenger seat. “Not that I know of,” she said, feeling very tread worn. It took her a second to realize what was bothering her about his question—she really was pretty tired. “And wouldn’t they call you about that and not me? After all, you’re the primary on this case,” she pointed out.

  “And you’re the relative,” he countered. “And that usually trumps anything else.”

  She knew he was referring to the fact that the head of the day crime scene investigation unit was Sean Cavanaugh, another one of her newly discovered granduncles as well as the chief of detectives’ older brother. At times, that might seem a little daunting if not downright overwhelming, but all it took was dealing with these people to realize that they weren’t part of some secret club, they were all just people on the same team: law enforcement.

  “Again, that would be going against protocol, otherwise known as the rules. If anything, I might get a heads-up at the same time as you do—although that’s highly unlikely,” she emphasized. “But they wouldn’t get in contact with me and not you. It doesn’t work that way,” she insisted. “The only advantage I have as a Cavanaugh is if I ever get shot, or need a kidney, odds are there’s a relative who could step up and donate their blood or their kidney or whatever.”

  She took a breath and then said in an even voice, “I’m only going to say this once, Durant, so listen up. Same name or not, none of us will ever capitalize on the fact that we’re related. Having the same last name doesn’t open up doors for us so much as it opens us up to be the target of a great deal of criticism and misconceived ideas.” She gave him a very pointed look as she said this.

  And then she brightened.

  “Okay, the subject is now closed.” Kelly glanced at her watch. “It’s past our shift.” Way past, she thought. “What do you say that we get some dinner? And since it’s my suggestion, I’ll spring for it. Sky’s the limit—up to ten bucks,” she deadpanned.

  He wasn’t thinking about food right now. Unwinding was what was currently on his mind.

  “Thanks for the offer, Cavanaugh, but I’m going to drink my dinner.”

  “Smoothies?” she asked, summoning her best innocent look. She knew damn well he wasn’t thinking about combining a handful of healthy ingredients in a blender.

  Kane laughed shortly. “What do you think?”

  She gave it to him straight. “I think that you need a designated driver coming with you. Wouldn’t do to get a DUI, considering your career choice.”

  He took chances when he was out in the field, but only in the line of duty. No way he intended to drink and drive. “I was planning on picking up a bottle and taking it home with me.”

  The thought of him sitting alone in his apartment, helping alcohol evaporate out of a bottle filled her with a strange sort of sadness. “You can always do that some other time.”

  “Is this what it’s going to be like?” he asked. “If we, through some perverse trick of nature, actually remain partners, are you going to argue with everything I say?”

  She wasn’t aware of being argumentative right now, just helpful. “Not argue,” she corrected, “I’m tactfully suggesting alternatives.”

  He frowned. “You’re not exactly making the best argument for my staying your partner.”

  “On the contrary, I’m making a great argument for remaining your partner.”

  He looked at her for a long time. “I’ve died and gone to hell, haven’t I?”

  “Nope. If anything, it’s the other place.”

  He sighed, giving up. He drove into the police parking lot and stopped by her car. She was coming with him tonight, he knew that without being told. Just as he knew that wherever he went, she was going to follow, like a shadow he had no control over.

  Chapter 6

  Located not far from the precinct and inherently inviting, Malone’s was thought of as more of a tavern than a bar. The difference boiled down to the crowd that tended to congregate within the family-owned establishment.

  All manner of law enforcement agents—although the balance tended to lean toward officers and detectives—came to Malone’s seeking a little respite from the burden of keeping the city and its residents safe. The tavern was a place to go when someone needed to blow off a little steam, or seek the company of like-minded people, or just remain silent while listening to brethren in blue talk and attempt to make some sense of the madness around them.

  In addition, at any given time of the day—but especially in the evening—a good dart game could always be found.

  Kane had been to Malone’s a handful of times, but for the most part, if he sought relief, he did it in the confines of his own living quarters rather than in the middle of a crowd of people who shared his calling.

  His idea of blowing off steam did not involve talking or competitive dart throwing.

  The upshot of that was Kane had no overwhelming desire to go to Malone’s.

  However, he was beginning to realize that if he didn’t make at least a minor show of going along with his new, hopefully soon-to-be-ex partner, he would get absolutely no peace until he finally did go along with her—at least for a small amount of time.

  Which was why he wound up going to Malone’s with her at the end of his day.

  The moment Kane walked through the front door, the heat generated by having so many bodies milling around in what was actually a relatively small space hit him with a jolt.

  Malone’s appeared to be filled to maximum capacity—and it wasn’t even a Friday or Saturday night.

  “Looks like there’re a lot of partners here,” he commented.

  Kelly hadn’t thought the tavern was going to be this crowded, but she was quick to adjust. It was a trait she had acquired in her formative years. If nothing else, life with six siblings demanded constant adjustment and she had gotten good at that.

  “Partners?” she questioned. That was rather an odd way to put it. At times Kane could be very difficult to follow. He probably did that on purpose, to keep her off balance.

  Which meant that she had to rise to the challenge.

  “People partnered with a Cavanaugh,” Kane elaborated for her benefit. “I figure that’ll drive anyone to drink every time.”

  Ah, sarcasm. How could she have missed that, Kelly wondered. “Very funny.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” Kane told her. “Just factual.”

  There wasn’t a hint of a smile evident on his face or in his voice. Still, she preferred to think that Kane was joking. That way she wouldn’t take offense at his words—the way she secretly suspected that he might want her to.

  I’m not rising to the bait, Durant. Sorry.

  “Well, then, I’d say you had a lot in common with these people,” she concluded cheerfully. “Why don’t you go and mingle a little? I’ll be here when you’re ready to go home.”

  “I’m ready now,” Kane informed her flatly.

  “You left off two very crucial steps before the final one,” Kelly pointed out. “You forgot all about the drinking and the mingling parts.”

  “You might not have picked up on this,” Kane told her testily. “But while I do drink, what I don’t do is mingle.”

  “Neither did the Unabomber,” she reminded him. “And we all know how that turned out. It’s a fact of life, Durant. People need people,” she insisted

  That sounded suspiciously like a lyric to an old song his uncle’s lady friend used to sing. Kane was instantly on guard. “I swear, Cavanaugh, you break into song and I’ll strangle you right here, witnesses or no witnesses.”

  “Then it’s lucky for you I forgot my sheet m
usic,” she told him sweetly. She caught hold of Kane’s arm and began to pull him to the counter.

  Caught off guard, Kane allowed himself to be pulled rather than to cause a scene. Since the place was this crowded, he had no doubt the Cavanaughs were well represented. He also had no doubt they’d be quick to defend one of their own and he had no desire to get into the middle of anything like that.

  “What’s your pleasure?” Kelly asked him as she reached the bar and raised her hand to attract the exceedingly busy bartender’s attention.

  “Home,” he answered.

  Kelly decided to ignore her partner’s response.

  The bartender had managed to cross over to her at that moment and she gave the retired officer the name of a beer she happened to know he carried on tap. “Two,” she told the man.

  Kane looked at her in mild surprise. “I thought you said you weren’t drinking.”

  “Just the one,” she told him. “It just doesn’t seem right, taking up space and not buying something from Devin.”

  The name meant nothing to him. “Devin?”

  She nodded, saying, “The man who just took our order. It’s his bar. Well, his family’s bar,” she amended. “They’re all former cops.”

  He thought that was rather fitting under the circumstances. “The job’ll drive you to drink, all right,” Kane agreed. He looked pointedly at her as he said it.

  Kelly returned his look and smiled at him. She was determined not to allow the man to get to her.

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” she told Kane, her eyes on his.

  Just then someone bumped into Kane, throwing him off balance. Before he could do anything to stop himself, Kane bumped up against his partner.

  The tavern was unusually warm and the space exceedingly tight. Kelly had her back against the bar, so she had nowhere to move when Kane bumped up against her.

  For a split second it felt as though their two halves had sealed and formed a whole. The kind that created electricity and caused lightning bolts to shoot into space.