The Cop

by Cara Summers

  “Jude Catherine.”

  She opened her eyes and saw only him. The candlelight shone on the hard planes and angles of his face. His eyes were dark, almost black like his hair. In that moment, she knew she was his. And she wanted him mindlessly. She reached out to him. “Nik, please.”

  As if he were waiting only for that, he slipped inside of her. His hands found hers, linked, and then he began to rock against her. Even then he moved slowly, kindling the heat inside of her again and building it. She wanted to hold on to the moment, hold on to to him. And she did as he quickened the pace, slowly, surely until the heat burst into flames and consumed them both.

  Afterward, they lay together, their arms wrapped around each other, for a long time.

  10

  NIK LEANED on the horn until the van in front of him moved, then began to nose his car into the left-hand turn lane.

  “You shouldn’t drive while you’re angry,” J.C. said. “We could have grabbed a bite at the diner across from the police station.”

  Nik negotiated the turn, then slammed on his brakes as he found himself in yet another lane of cars that was barely moving. “I’m not angry.”

  “Right. And you’re not trying to kill us by the way you’re driving.”

  Nik barely kept from swearing. “I’m just frustrated because things are looking worse for Roman Oliver.” That was the understatement of the year. The case against Roman was becoming more solid by the minute.

  While J.C. had been looking at mug shots, Dinah had filled him in on what she knew. Both the Olivers and the Carluccis had received ransom notes, demanding money for the return of Paulo and Juliana. No mention of Sadie. So that pretty well shot his theory that Sadie had been taken along with the bride and groom. And it strengthened the theory that Sadie and Roman had been working together, that the kidnapping had been part of their plan, and that Sadie had carried through with it after Roman was hurt. The ransom notes demanding five million for the return of the bride and five million for the return of the groom were their motive. That kind of cash could clinch the land deal that they were vying with the Carluccis for.

  “I know the ransom notes look bad for your friend, Roman,” J.C. said.

  He turned to stare at her. “How did you hear about the ransom notes? No one is supposed to know about them.” Parker was keeping a very tight lid on it, and his captain wouldn’t like it if he learned that Dinah had told him. If word was spreading that quickly, it would be headline news by the end of the day.

  “I overheard you and Dinah talking. I have good ears, and looking at those mug shots was boring. There’s got to be an explanation. Roman wouldn’t kidnap his own sister.”

  “The line of reasoning is that he had to kidnap both the bride and the groom to deflect suspicion from himself.”

  “And they think his sister Sadie helped him?”

  “Dammit. Did you eavesdrop on everything Dinah and I said?” Seeing his chance, he jammed his foot on the accelerator and shot the car into the next lane.

  “See? You are angry with me. Why don’t you just admit it? You’re mad because I couldn’t identify Snake Eyes in any of the mug shots I looked at this morning. I can understand your frustration. But he just wasn’t there.”

  Nik shot her another glance. She was staring straight ahead with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Cursing himself, he drew in a deep breath. “I’m not angry with you.” He heartily wished it was anger that had sunk its claws into his gut and not fear. And the fear had nothing to do with the case. He could keep her safe. But in the early morning light as he’d watched her sleep beside him in his bed, he’d realized that he could no longer keep himself safe from her.

  She’d gotten to him. Some time during the night, he’d lost something of himself to her. That had never happened to him before and it had been gnawing away at him all morning.

  She mumbled something.

  Liar. He let the word hang in the air between them. If she wanted to believe he was angry with her, fine. Hadn’t he spent most of the morning trying to convince himself that they’d both be wise to back off a bit? So why didn’t he just tell her that instead of driving like a…fiend?

  Slamming on the brakes, he managed to avoid smashing into the bumper of the car in front of him. Barely. The truth was as much as he might want to back off from J.C. Riley, he couldn’t. From the moment that she’d stepped out of that closet in the sacristy, her hair mussed, those green eyes wide with fear, she’d bewitched him. He felt as if he’d been sucked into a whirlpool and he was very much afraid that he couldn’t break free.

  Could she be right? Was he angry with her for that?

  “Stop the car,” J.C. said.

  Nik shot her a look. “It’s as good as stopped. You might have noticed that this traffic’s moving at a snail’s pace.”

  She lifted her chin. “I mean stop as in park the car. I’m hungry.”

  “There’s news.” He turned his attention back to the road. “Sit tight. It’s only two more blocks to the food.”

  “It could take hours to get there. If you’d tell me where you’re headed, maybe I could think of an alternate route. As a caterer, I’m pretty good at getting places fast.”

  Nik glanced at her again. “And you think a cop isn’t?”

  “Look, Ghirardelli Square is right over there. Let me run in. I want chocolate.”

  “There’ll be no running in. I told you at the station, I’m taking you to a place where I know you’ll be safe.”

  J.C. BIT DOWN on her lip to stop her reply. Safe? That was a laugh. The truth was, she wasn’t safe—not from Nik Angelis. The fear that had been fluttering around in her stomach all morning settled into a hard little ball.

  Ever since she’d woken up this morning, Nik had been keeping his distance. Oh, he’d been polite enough. Kind, too. He’d had an omelet waiting for her in the kitchen when she’d gotten out of the shower. But he’d made phone calls while she’d eaten. And he’d barely spoken to her on the way to the police station. In short, he was being the perfect sex buddy. She wondered if he was this way with every woman he slept with.

  No, she wasn’t going to go there. She didn’t want to think that Nik had spent a night like last night with any other woman. J.C. bit back a sigh.

  She couldn’t have imagined what had happened during the night. Though it hurt her now to look at him, she did. Damn him. There’d been moments during the night when he’d been hers. What had happened between them had been more than just sex. Hadn’t it?

  Not that it mattered now, because he was clearly backing off. Maybe he was even dumping her. Turning, she stared blindly out the windshield. Rejection always hurt. But she’d handled it before, hadn’t she? As she glanced at him, a little flame of anger began to build inside of her. Well, two could play that game. He wasn’t the only one who could back off.

  Nik blasted his horn and nearly kissed the fender of a car as he shot his to the curb. “This is it.”

  J.C. glanced out the window. The letters on the revolving glass door read The Poseidon. It looked like other restaurants that she’d seen, and she wondered what it was about this one that made Nik think he could keep her safe here.

  Nik tossed his key to a waiting valet as he opened her door. “Park it in the alley, Cato.”

  “Sure thing.”

  She stared at the tall, handsome man who was circling the car as Nik pulled her into the revolving doors. “He’s nearly as handsome as you are, Slick.”

  She felt his grip tighten on her arm. Score one for her.

  The room they stepped into was large and airy. Directly behind the empty hostess desk was a glass window that offered a view of the Golden Gate Bridge. A velvet rope closed off the stairs that led to the upper level. J.C. caught a glimpse of white tablecloths and silver candlesticks before her attention was captured by the music and general hubbub rising from the restaurant on the lower level. The bar was mahogany, the walls behind it brick with fishing nets strung across it. Servers moved
swiftly between tables crowded with customers. Through an archway, she could see plants, more tables and a dance floor.

  “We’ll have to wait for a table here.” She shot Nik a narrow-eyed glance. “Some chocolate would have tided me over.”

  Before he had a chance to reply, a young woman appeared at the top of the stairs and flew toward them.

  “Nik!” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him hard. J.C. figured the young woman had to be Nik’s sister. She had the same brown eyes and curly dark hair. But she was much shorter and had the face of a pixie. J.C. suddenly realized that Nik had brought her to his family’s restaurant.

  “Hi.” With a smile, J.C. extended her hand. “I’m J.C. Riley, and you’ve got to be Nik’s sister.”

  “I hope you won’t hold that against me. I’m Philly.” She squeezed J.C.’s hand. “Welcome to The Poseidon.”

  “He tells me that you have a special way to communicate with animals.”

  “Really?” Philly shot a look at Nik and he shrugged. “He’s usually not a blabbermouth.”

  “I think it’s so cool. I’d love to talk to you about it sometime. Unless you don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, some people think that psychics are sort of, you know—woo-woo. But I don’t. Really. I’m fascinated by it.”

  Philly grinned at her. “Wait until you meet Aunt Cass. She’s the true psychic in the family. Is this your first visit to The Poseidon?”

  J.C. nodded. “Yes, and I think I’m falling in love.” She moved with Philly to the railing that looked out over the lower level. “I’ve always dreamed of owning a place like this—not Greek, of course, but a place where the food brings people in and builds a kind of community.”

  Philly laughed. “Well, you’ve picked a day to visit when the community is a bit shaky. Helena, our five-star chef, hasn’t shown up yet, and Dad is worried. Has Nik told you about our father’s midlife crisis?”

  Nik watched J.C. shake her head. That was all it took for Philly to launch into the story of how six months ago their father had taken a trip back to Greece and had returned with the beautiful Helena, a renowned chef to help him expand the restaurant. The way Philly told it, their father sounded like Paris stealing Helen away to Troy. Any minute now a hollow wooden horse would make an appearance.

  J.C. threw back her head and laughed when Philly explained how since she’d arrived, Helena had seized total creative control of the fine dining level, and she and their father Spiro had become rivals, each competing to create bigger and better dishes.

  “So you’ve got your own version of Iron Chef going on,” J.C. commented.

  “Exactly! It makes for very high drama.”

  After that, Nik lost track of the story because all he could do was stare at J.C. The sun pouring in through the window had turned her hair to flames. She was beautiful. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? And she looked so right standing there. He hadn’t expected her to. Hadn’t wanted her to. Hadn’t he brought her here to convince himself that she couldn’t possibly fit in with his life, with his family?

  But she did fit in. Fear tightened in his stomach. Maybe he was just going to have to learn to live with that.

  “Aunt Cass and I think that the real reason Dad invited Helena to come to San Francisco was because he fell in love with her, and we think that’s the real reason that she came. But then something happened. Maybe my father got cold feet. For some reason the Angelis men seem to do that. My grandfather told me once that if he hadn’t arranged for my father to come to this country, he probably never would have had the courage to come here on his own even though he was crazy in love with my mother. It was one of those love-at-first-sight deals. They met on a beach in Greece and that was it. It was the same way for my uncle Demetrius and Aunt Cass. I’m beginning to wonder if the family shouldn’t do an intervention.”

  As if that was his cue, Nik watched his father appear at the head of the stairs. “Philly, has Helena called in yet?”

  “No, Dad. You asked me that not five minutes ago.”

  “And who is this?” Spiro was staring at J.C. as he strode forward.

  “This is J.C. Riley,” Nik said.

  “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Riley.” Spiro took her hand in both of his. “Spiro Angelis. Your name is familiar. You’re in the catering business, right? Have an Affair with J.C. Riley, right?”

  “How did you know?” J.C. asked.

  Spiro beamed a smile at her. “I’m encouraging Helena to expand into catering—fancy stuff like weddings—and one of my distributors mentioned your name. He spoke very highly of you, but he failed to mention how beautiful you are.”

  Nik took J.C.’s arm.

  “Ms. Riley is with you?”

  The look his father sent him was all innocence.

  “I’m with Nik but I’m not his date,” J.C. said. “I’m his job. That’s the extent of our relationship.”

  Nik felt the pain sting an area near his heart as surely as if she’d thrown a dart at him. She was backing off from him. Well, he’d just see about that.

  “That doesn’t change the fact that she’s with me.” J.C. jerked her arm, but he held it in a firm grip. “And she’s going to stay with me. She was just telling Philly how much she loves the restaurant.”

  Spiro beamed again at J.C. “You’re a woman of discerning taste. You’re not Greek, are you?”

  Smiling, J.C. shook her head. “Sorry.”

  “Aren’t you needed at the bar?” Nik asked his father.

  Just then the phone on the hostess desk rang, and Philly rushed to pick it up. A moment later, she said to her father, “Helena’s here. She came in the back way, and she’s at the bar.”

  Without another word, Spiro whirled and raced down the stairs.

  “Drama,” Philly said to J.C. and Nik. “Drama, drama, drama.” She was laughing as she scanned the book on the hostess desk. “We’re booked right now. But Kit has room at the table I squeezed him into.”

  “Kit’s here?” Nik asked.

  Philly nodded. “And he’s got a girl with him. A client. He brought her here last night, too.”

  “I think your father was flirting with me,” J.C. said as Nik hurried her down the stairs.

  “He was flirting with you,” Nik commented dryly. “Ever since I can remember, he’s flirted with all the girls that my brothers and I have brought to the restaurant.”

  “I suppose they were legion in numbers.”

  He shot her a look. “Not really. I’m a pretty quick learner. I stopped bringing my dates here sometime in high school.”

  “I like your family. Of course, I haven’t met Theo yet. What’s he like?”

  “Classy,” Nik said. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see his picture in the Sunday magazine section of the paper six months ago. He made the list of the ten most eligible bachelors in San Francisco.”

  “That was your brother Theo?”

  He glanced down at her, a little annoyed at the stab of jealousy he felt at her tone. “Yeah. But it had its downside. There was a group of women who started appearing in his courtroom every time he had a case. His groupies. We razzed him about it until one of them turned into a stalker.”

  J.C.’s eyes widened. “Your brother had a stalker?”

  Nik took her elbow when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “She followed him here one night and pulled a gun on him. Kit and I weren’t here.”

  “What happened?”

  “Theo talked her into going outside and he managed to get the gun away, but only after she shot him in the shoulder. Then he pressed charges.”

  “Good for him. He must have your father’s charm to have talked her out of the gun.”

  Nik frowned at her. “You think my father’s charming?”

  “I think he’s stunning. If he wants this Helena, he should just take her.”

  “That’s not the way my dad operates. He’s as conservative as they—”

  A disturbance at the bar cut
him off. They stared as Spiro picked a tall, beautiful older woman up off a bar stool and tossed her over his shoulder as if she were a featherweight. A moment later, he carried her through a door at the back of the bar. Applause broke out along with a few cheers and whistles.

  “I assume that was Helena.”

  “What in the hell has gotten into my father?”

  J.C. laughed. “I would say that Helena has.”

  Spotting his brother at a table close to the bar, Nik ran interference until they reached him. “Did I just see what I think I saw?”

  Kit rose. “You did, and my friend here, Drew Merriweather, is the instigator. She encouraged Helena to buy a motorcycle.”

  “Helena bought a motorcycle?” Turning to J.C., he said, “Dad bought one three weeks ago.”

  “Your father, the conservative, bought a motorcycle?”

  “We chalked it up to a continuation of his midlife crisis.” Shaking his head, Nik grinned down at Kit’s pretty friend. “Good job. It’s high time one of them made a move. Drew, this is J.C. Riley.”

  As the two women exchanged greetings, Kit rose from his chair and offered it to J.C. “Enjoy, ladies. Nik and I have a little business to talk over.”

  “Well, that was rude,” J.C. said as she sank into the chair across from Drew.

  “He’s not usually,” Drew said as she offered J.C. half of her sandwich. “Kit, I mean.”

  “I figured you must be talking about Kit because Nik is rude all the time.”

  Drew blinked. “He is?”

  “Yeah.” She bit into the sandwich and studied the woman across from her. She was a pretty, petite blonde, and in spite of the fact that she looked totally put together in a simple sundress—something J.C. always aspired to and never quite achieved—Drew Merriweather looked as if she hadn’t had any more sleep than J.C. Probably thanks to Kit, she mused.

  Taking another bite of her sandwich, she spoke around it. “They’re easy on the eyes though.”

  Drew shifted her gaze to Kit, then back again. “Yes.”

  The poor kid looked miserable, J.C. thought, and couldn’t help but wonder if she looked a little bit like that herself. Men, she thought. Then she pushed the plate closer to Drew. “You’ve got to try this…” She paused to glance down at what she was holding. “What is it anyway?”