Her Lawman on Call

by Marie Ferrarella

  Even now, spent and exhausted, Tony could feel the beginnings of desire starting to stir him. Could feel himself wanting her all over again. It didn’t seem possible and yet, there it was. Desire, fully clothed and waiting to be stripped down to its barest essence all over again.

  “That’s one hell of a menu,” he finally said in response to her comment.

  She smiled. She felt very close to him at this moment and the fact that they were both naked, their flesh warm from the press of feverish skin against skin, had nothing to do with it. It was the honesty and not the proximity that made her feel so close to him.

  “Yes, it kind of surprised me, too.” Moving on instincts, Sasha turned her body into his.

  Tony felt himself responding even more fiercely to her than before. It was no longer simply mind over matter. His mind kept slipping away.

  With effort, he attempted to regain some ground. “Look, I’m sorry if—”

  “No.” Sasha pressed her finger against his lips, stopping him before he could say anything more. Before he could say something that hurt. “No ‘sorry.’ I’m not sorry,” she told him softly. “And if you are, I don’t want to hear about it. Not tonight. There’re no strings attached, Tony. Just don’t spoil it for me, that’s all I ask.” And then, because she could feel his desire for her growing, she allowed a smile to slip along her lips. “You can even have seconds if you want.”

  It was as if she’d read his mind. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was going to take a wee bit longer. “Give me a minute.”

  “I’ll give you as long as you like,” she told him. She lowered her eyes just a little. And smiled again. “But I don’t think you’ll need it.”

  And neither did he, he realized. His desire had taken full possession of him. Again. As he wove his fingers through her hair, his mouth curved in anticipation.

  She was right. Tony had a heart-melting smile. Even a little went a long way. “You should do that more often.”

  He was just about to kiss her and stopped a fraction of an inch short of Sasha’s lips. “What, make love with you?”

  That, too, she thought. “I meant smile.” Even a hint of one transformed his face, softening it. “You have a nice face.” As if to underscore her words, she slid her hand along his cheek. She felt a muscle leap beneath her palm. Felt something tighten within her in response. “When you’re not trying to scare people.”

  “I don’t ‘try’ to scare people.” He just went about business the only way he knew how. Doggedly.

  “Right.” She laughed quietly, the smile slipping into her eyes. And his gut. “It just comes naturally to you, I guess.”

  “You’re not scared,” he pointed out, his voice rumbling along her skin. Exciting her.

  Slipping one hand beneath his head, she laced her hands around his neck. “Actually,” she confessed, fitting her body against his, reveling in the heat that she felt emanating from his torso, “I’m terrified.”

  She couldn’t help wondering if he realized that there was more than a little truth in her admission. Because she was afraid. Afraid of what she had just felt. Afraid of what she was feeling. She knew that, unlike with Adam, this couldn’t lead anywhere. But somehow, she couldn’t make herself pull back. Couldn’t get herself to dive for shelter again. She was so weary of being numb. Of having a heart that pumped only blood and nothing more.

  “I would have never guessed.” But now that he looked into her eyes, there was something there, something that told him she wasn’t merely being witty, or wry.

  “I’m almost as good at hiding my feelings as you are.”

  She was striking too close. It was, he thought, bringing his mouth down to hers, as if she could look into his soul. Because, much as he tried to deny it, he was feeling something. And that scared the hell out of him.

  Blocking out his thought, he focused only on the moment. Only on making love with Sasha again and nothing else.

  The second time seemed even more intense, more pleasing, more of everything than the first had been. And it served to open his eyes even further.

  He hadn’t thought it was possible to feel this way again. To feel this surge through his veins, this need coursing through his body. He would have bet any amount of money that all of that had died for him the day that Annie had.

  But here it was again, that wild, exhilarating feeling of being alive, of having things open up for him.

  And yet, somehow, it was different.

  He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t put his finger on it, but all Tony knew, dead center in his soul, was that it was different. Not better, not worse, than what he’d had with Annie, just different.

  Damn it, don’t analyze, just enjoy, he upbraided himself.

  And so he did. Less urgently than before, because this time he allowed himself time to explore, to savor, to absorb and remember. Because he’d had one true love in his life and that was more than most. To think that he could get that lucky again would be taking up residence in a fool’s paradise.

  Spent, exhausted beyond words, Tony drew his body away from hers and tucked Sasha against him. He held her in silence, listening to the beat of her heart mimicking the rhythm of his own. He’d believed that moments like this were beyond his reach. To be allowed to revisit the peace, just this one more time, was something he was truly grateful for.

  The next moment, peace flew out the window and adrenaline kicked in.

  Someone was unlocking the front door.

  Chapter 12

  Tony bolted upright. Grabbing his jeans, he tossed his shirt at Sasha. He had his pants on and zipped before she had a chance to slip the shirt on.

  “You expecting someone?”

  “No.”

  The word was no sooner out of Sasha’s mouth than the front door opened and a slender woman with auburn hair almost as vibrant as she was came in.

  Sasha slanted a glance toward Tony. He amazed her. She’d never seen anyone get dressed so fast in her life. All she had managed to do was jam her arms into the shirtsleeves and close one strategic button before Natalya came walking in.

  It could have been worse, Sasha thought. It could have been her mother. She didn’t even want to begin to think about the consequences if it had been her father.

  “Lock’s sticking again,” Natalya complained. And then her mouth dropped open as she finally looked into the room. The key she’d been wrestling with was forgotten as it hung from the lock like a trapeze artist suspended in midair. Blinking to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, Natalya remained where she was, staring.

  “Sasha?” she asked uncertainly.

  Dragging a hand uncomfortably through his hair, Tony spoke first. “Let me take a look at that lock.” Without waiting for an invitation, he padded barefoot over to the door.

  And let me take a look at you, Natalya thought, her eyes slowly and appreciatively washing over the stranger’s torso. This was certainly a much better specimen of manhood than she had just walked away from. When the latter had tried to hurry the evening into bed, she’d decided to cut short her plans for the weekend and come home.

  She’d had no idea she’d be interrupting something. Sasha never brought men home.

  Natalya sidestepped the handsome stranger as he came closer. “Um, Sash, there’s a man in our apartment and he doesn’t belong to either Kady or me.”

  Sasha took a deep breath. She was going to hear about this for weeks to come. Maybe months. “Yes, I know.”

  Natalya turned to the man, whose chest looked as if it had been chiseled out of rock and put out her hand. There was no attempt to hide the admiration in her eyes. “Hi, I’m Natalya, Sasha’s sister.”

  “Anthony Santini,” came the terse reply, coupled by an even terser handshake. He looked over her head toward Sasha. “Do you have any WD-40?”

  “I’ll get it,” Natalya volunteered, glancing toward Sasha. The shirt her sister had on was hardly long enough to cover the bare essentials. “You don’t look as if you
’re dressed for rummaging under the sink.”

  Natalya was back before Sasha could put on her own clothes. She’d had a chance to match the stranger’s name with a scrap of information that had surfaced in her brain. Holding the small can out to him, Natalya said, “You’re one of the police detectives investigating the murders at PM, aren’t you?”

  He took the can from her, then pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, he held it around the wood surrounding the lock. Tony applied some of the spray before answering. “Yes.”

  Natalya glanced at her sister, then back at him. “Is this the way you usually question witnesses?” The woman’s mouth, he noted, curved just the way that Sasha’s did.

  He squirted the spray into the lock a second time. “I was just getting ready to leave.”

  “Without your shirt?” Natalya asked innocently. She glanced toward Sasha, taking in the way her sister filled out the garment. “I don’t think so.” Finished, Tony easily removed the key from the lock and tossed it to her. She caught them handily. “Take your time, Detective. There’s this all-night deli that’s just around the corner. I’ve got a sudden craving for a pastrami sandwich on rye. All things being equal, I should be gone for about an hour.” She was already edging her way over to the door. “Longer if you need it.”

  “Natalya—” Sasha began to protest.

  Natalya ignored her. “And be good to her,” she added, opening the door. “Sasha doesn’t do this kind of thing. Ever.” Natalya paused to insert her key into the lock again, testing its mobility. “Perfect,” she declared. Her eyes slid over his torso again as she stretched out the word. “I guess a little lubrication does do wonders.” A mischievous smile curved her mouth just before she closed the door behind her.

  Tony blew out a breath as he placed the can of WD-40 on the coffee table.

  “Well, that was awkward.” Sasha ran her hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think she’d be home this weekend. Something must have happened,” she realized. Sasha pressed her lips together. What was he thinking, she wondered. Was he angry at the interruption, or at being discovered in a compromising situation? His expression was unreadable. “Natalya tends to be a little outspoken. Sometimes she engages her mouth before her brain has had a chance to catch up. What she said about my not doing this sort of thing—”

  “I already know that,” he told her, his voice so low she almost felt the words rather than heard them. His eyes held hers. “Neither do I.”

  So where did that put them? Sasha was afraid to ask. Afraid of the answer she might receive. Because she knew what she wanted to hear and knew that she would most likely hear the exact opposite. Better not to hear it said at all.

  “Your sister was right about one thing,” he finally said.

  Sasha realized she was still holding her breath and let it out slowly. “And that was?”

  Tony nodded toward her body. “I am going to need my shirt.”

  “What?” It took her a second to replay his words. And then she flushed, embarrassed. “Oh, right. Sure.”

  But before she could slip the shirt off and quickly put on the dress she’d shed earlier, Tony was doing it for her. He slowly slipped the shirt from her shoulders. But instead of putting it on or offering her the dress that had been discarded, he just stood there, his hands on her shoulders. She could have sworn that his breath had grown short. So had her own.

  “Your sister said an hour?”

  “Yes.” Sasha could feel everything inside her begin to vibrate again as anticipation started to rise. Her reply was hardly more than a whisper.

  “Does that mean an actual sixty minutes?” At this point, Tony wasn’t taking anything for granted.

  “Maybe more.” Sasha drew her tongue along her lips. “Natalya has a tendency to run late.”

  “Good.”

  It was the last thing he said for a while.

  The next time Natalya unlocked the apartment door, an hour and a half later, she did it with a great deal of commotion. She wanted to make sure that her re-entrance caught no one by surprise. Once the door had parted from the doorjamb, she stuck in a white handkerchief and waved it just for good measure.

  Sasha was sitting on the sofa. The same sofa that had seen a great deal of activity in the last few hours. Seeing the white flag she laughed. “You can come in, Nat.”

  “The hunk is gone?” Opening the door all the way, Natalya looked around the living room, as if to see for herself.

  “The hunk is gone,” Sasha confirmed. She couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile that escaped her lips. She slanted a look at her sister to see if she’d noticed. Natalya’s wide grin told her she had. “What happened to your weekend?”

  Natalya frowned, waving a dismissive hand. “Jerry’s a jerk.” And then her face brightened. “Tell me everything!”

  In a flash, she crossed the room and grabbed both of Sasha’s hands in hers, as if she intended to pump the story out of her if Sasha was unwilling to comply with her request.

  Sasha laughed, disengaging herself from her sister. “You saw everything.”

  Natalya’s grin turned from engaging to mischievous. Her eyes were sparkling.

  “Not everything.” A heartfelt sigh accompanied the words. “But from what I saw, this detective of yours was beautiful. So tell me,” she said as she settled in for a lengthy story, “how long has this been going on?”

  “He’s not my detective,” Sasha corrected. “And this has not been going on at all.” She saw the impatient look on Natalya’s face. Her sister clearly wasn’t buying into this. She began to explain. “We were supposed to go out tonight for dinner—”

  Natalya cut in, surprised. “Dinner? A date? And you didn’t tell me?”

  Sasha ignored the surprised accusation and pushed on to the conclusion of her short story. “But he was called away to another homicide. Except that he forgot to let me know that he wasn’t coming to pick me up. So he came by later—to apologize.”

  Natalya whistled. “That man certainly knows how to offer up an apology.” There was more than a touch of envy in her voice. “Can you get him to apologize again?”

  “Natalya.” There was a warning note in Sasha’s voice, one that Natalya gave no indication she had even heard.

  “Seriously,” Natalya pushed on, “maybe you could offer to help him with his investigation and when he snaps at you—he looks like the snapping type—” she confided, “he’ll feel guilty and apologize again.” Natalya sighed, thinking of what she’d almost walked in on. “Does he have any brothers who like to apologize—?”

  Sasha knew that Natalya could go on like this indefinitely. She didn’t want a big deal being made of what had just happened, even if Tony was the first man she’d been with since Adam. It would all soon be in her past. The best way to stop her sister was a cold dose of reality.

  “Natalya, Tyler Harris is dead.”

  “Tyler Harris?” Skidding to a verbal halt, Natalya then repeated the name slowly. “Tyler Harris?” She was drawing a blank and shook her head, looking at Sasha for enlightenment.

  “He’s an anesthesiologist, or was,” Sasha amended. God, but she was having trouble accepting all this as being real. She kept hoping it was all a nightmare and that she’d wake up. “Tyler used to work at PM.” Even as she said the words, something came back to her. A wisp of a memory that went through her fingers like smoke when she tried to catch it.

  “Sasha? What’s the matter?” Natalya asked, concerned. “You look pale.”

  And then it came to her. Not a fragment but the entire scenario. Her eyes widened with surprise as she looked at her sister. Why hadn’t she remembered earlier?

  “Tyler and I once were in the O.R. together. It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving and there was almost no one in the E.R.” As more bits and pieces returned to attach themselves to the memory, her voice began to grow progressively more agitated. “The EMTs brought in a woman who’d been in a hit-and-run car accident. Tyler administered the anesth
esia and I operated. There wasn’t time to get a specialist.” She hadn’t thought about that in a long time, had put the entire incident in the back of her mind because the results had not been good. Despite all her best efforts, the woman had died on the table.

  Died. The single word vibrated in her brain. Her eyes widened.

  Omigod.

  She became aware of Natalya’s hand on her arm. “Sasha? Sasha, what’s wrong? You look as if you’d seen a ghost.”

  She had. A ghost from the past. She looked at Natalya. “Angela and Rachel were the nurses in the O.R. that day. We were short-staffed. The woman’s body was a mess. I couldn’t find the source of her internal bleeding. I sent Jorge to get more blood…” Her voice trailed off. “I sent Jorge,” she repeated. “Jorge was there.”

  Everyone she’d just mentioned was dead.

  Except for her.

  A cold, clammy feeling descended over her.

  And then, through the haze that had suddenly enshrouded her, she heard Natalya’s voice. “Are you trying to tell me that everyone who was in the O.R. with you that day has been killed by that psycho who is stalking PM?”

  Spoken out loud, that sounded absurd. Sasha let out a long breath. She was letting her imagination run away with her.

  Sasha shook her head in response to Natalya’s question. “Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

  But Natalya was far from convinced. She shook her head grimly. “You don’t believe in coincidences, Sasha. Remember? And neither do I.”

  She was about to protest that a coincidence was more likely than the scenario she’d just mentioned, but then another thought came to her. A horrifying thought. She looked at Natalya.

  “Oh my God, Joshua.”

  “Joshua?” Natalya repeated, confused. She narrowed her eyes, trying to fathom what her sister was telling her. Sasha had her hand on her wrist and was squeezing. Hard.

  “Joshua Palmer,” she cried. If this outrageous thought had any merit to it, the young physician could be next. “He was the assistant at the surgery.” Natalya said nothing, continuing to listen. “He’s a primary-care physician, Nat, specializing in internal organs. We thought, between the two of us, we could keep the injured woman alive until Norman Fernandez could be located and answered his page.”