Bubblegum Blonde

by anna snow

  "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. All of their accounts were shared, and she didn't work. I did find some things out about her childhood though. Apparently she had a pretty rocky start. Alcoholic parents—and she was in and out of foster homes, which I guess would explain the nature of her charities."

  "Had Lydia ever been in any kind of legal trouble?"

  "Not that I could find," Mandy continued. "And again, I'm kind of surprised. Robert and Lydia dealt with so many powerful men and women, I thought surely over the years one of them would have become disgruntled over something, and some kind of complaint or something would come up, even if it was false, but I couldn't find anything."

  "No out of the ordinary transactions that we can find, no employee complaints, and yet, someone kills the wife. Why?"

  The three of us sat there staring off into space completely lost in our own thoughts.

  "Am I interrupting something?" A deep voice yanked us back to reality.

  "Geez! What's wrong with you sneaking up on people like that?" Kelly jumped up and blocked my desk from the man currently filling my office doorway.

  I had the fleeting thought that my doorway had never looked better.

  "I'll take that as a yes," he said. The hint of an amused smile curved his full lips.

  I raked all of the receipts off the desktop and into the top drawer, then slammed it shut.

  "Detective Black. What can I help you with?" I asked as I stood and instantly wanted to kick myself for how breathless my voice came out.

  "Detective Black?" Mandy asked and raised her eyebrows in my direction.

  I nodded in response. She immediately got my drift and smiled.

  He was the last person I wanted to deal with at the moment, but there he was all swagger and charm staring at me with those enormous green eyes and rocking a body that could make a nun question her vows. If he was here, he knew I was up to something. He was too good a cop not to.

  All I could do now was try my best to play it cool, and if all else failed, I could fall back on the good ol' deny, deny, deny, strategy.

  He stepped around Kelly, who was doing her best to keep him from seeing me clear my desk, and crossed his arms over his chest.

  "I have some calls to make," Mandy said and hurried from the room.

  "You and I need to talk," he said to me. His deep voice rumbled off my office walls, and I suppressed a shiver. He was intimidating and sexy with his muscular build, chiseled jaw, shaggy black-as-night hair, and imposing stance. He was walking, talking temptation on a stick.

  "Should I stay?" Kelly asked glancing between the cop and me.

  "No, it's fine."

  What could Kelly do? It wasn't like the detective was there to hurt me. Arrest me maybe but not hurt me.

  She gave Detective Black one last frown and left the room.

  Once the door closed behind her, I retook my seat and waved him to the chairs opposite me.

  "What could you possibly need to talk to me about?" I asked.

  "I think you know why I'm here."

  "Umm, no." I shook my head.

  Detective Black tilted his head back just a bit, lowered his eyelids a fraction, and glared at me.

  I folded my arms over my chest and waited for him to say something. The tension between us was so thick I wondered if I would choke on it.

  Finally he stepped forward and tossed something onto my desk, then took a seat in one of my office chairs.

  I reached out and poked at the item he'd tossed down.

  "What's this?" I asked in a voice I hoped sounded innocent but was afraid fell absurdly short.

  "You don't know?" he asked succinctly.

  I stared at the butt of my jeans splayed on my desk before me. I wanted to hide in a heap under my desk. Instead, I took a deep breath and shook my head.

  I picked up the seat of my jeans and scrunched my nose. "Nope. Well," I corrected myself quickly, "it looks like part of someone's pants, but why would I know anything about them?"

  He eyed me up and down. A chill slid the length of my spine. He was on to me. He knew exactly what I'd been up to. The scrap of my jeans and the fact that he was in my office was solid proof of that. From the expression on his face, he wasn't buying my innocent act at all, and who could blame him? I was falling disgustingly short in the acting-innocent department.

  He knew I'd broken into Hatchett's place and was just baiting me along until I slipped up and spilled the beans.

  That freaking maid.

  Little did he know, I was as stubborn as they come.

  "Weren't you wearing jeans earlier at the station?" He crossed his arms across his chest.

  "I don't know, was I?" I pretended to have forgotten.

  He cocked a brow at me like he wasn't buying a single word I said.

  "And even if I was," I continued, "is it against the law for a woman to slip into some yoga pants on occasion?"

  "It is if slipping into them comes after breaking into Robert Hatchett's place."

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Oh, yes, you do." He smiled and leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees. "As a matter of fact, I have proof that you broke into his house."

  "And what proof might that be?"

  "I made a trip out to the Hatchett residence to ask a few more questions this afternoon. Imagine my surprise when I saw you running to your car then speeding away."

  It took everything I had in me to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. Not only had the maid busted me but I'd been so wrapped up in my quick getaway that I'd completely missed a police officer watching from the sidelines? Why was I surprised that he'd caught me? He was a detective after all. Seeing me in the station had put me on his radar. All I could do now was deny, deny, deny and hope he let it go.

  I pursed my lips and shook my head. "Sorry, you must've seen someone who looked a lot like me."

  "And I suppose this someone drives the same car you do too?"

  I nodded.

  The vein in his neck looked like it was about to explode as he clenched his jaw, and for a moment I wondered if I'd gone too far.

  "Let's cut the crap, Barb." The smile left his face. "I know all about your little fling with Jason King. I know that you were engaged." He leaned back in the chair. "I know he came to you early this morning to ask for your help, and I know that you broke into Hatchett's house a little more than an hour ago. What I don't know"—he scrubbed a finger along his chin and jaw—"is why on Earth you would jeopardize your life trying to help some lying scumbag like Jason King? He killed Lydia Hatchett, and it's only a matter of time before I prove it."

  "How did you know Jason came by here? Have you been following my client?"

  He smiled at me, displaying his perfectly even, white teeth.

  "No, I wasn't following him, but after I saw you at the station this morning, I did a little more digging into his background. I did a little digging into yours as well." He pointed at me quickly. "That's when I discovered that the two of you used to be an item."

  "And?"

  "And it got me to wondering. What would you be willing to do for him?"

  "You mean you started wondering if I would be willing to help him weasel his way out of a murder conviction," I stated heatedly.

  "Something like that." He nodded. "The minute you introduced yourself in the station I knew that you were up to something. I knew you'd be sticking your nose where it doesn't belong." He drummed his fingers against his knee. "I already have some good evidence against Jason King, and it's only a matter of time before I can prove him guilty of murder, so if I were you, I'd drop this case, and let me do my job. Jason King is wasting your time."

  The joke was on him. I knew exactly what evidence he had against Jason, and it wasn't enough to put him behind bars. There was no murder weapon, and if they were going on fingerprints alone then they'd have to arrest Robert Hatchett as well. He was just trying to scare me away from the case, but it wasn't going to work.

  "Is th
at so?" I scoffed. "Well"—I shrugged with my palms up in the air—"if you know for a fact that I broke into Hatchett's place, why aren't you arresting me right now?" I asked.

  He rubbed his palms against his thick thighs and smiled. "Let's just call it professional courtesy."

  "Or lack of damming evidence," I rebutted.

  "Oh, I have some pretty damning evidence against you." He chuckled. "Starting with the assless jeans lying next to your chair." He grinned. "You know, that evidence is out in the open. I could take it if I wanted to."

  I glanced down at the offending item and bit my lip. If I wasn't busted before, I definitely was now.

  "Imagine the look on my face when I saw you get knocked off of that fence with a frozen chicken." He started laughing. "And then your bare cheeks running down the street."

  He'd seen my bare butt jiggling down the street. I was officially mortified. As soon as he left, I was hitting up a CrossFit class and dragging Kelly along for some semblance of moral support, even if she did just sit in the corner with a chocolate shake and watch.

  I glared at Detective Black while he cleared his throat and regained some semblance of self-control. When he'd finally gotten his laughter contained, he asked, "Would you like to explain to me why you entered the Hatchett estate? Did King really hire you, or are you just doing your boyfriend a favor and covering his ass?"

  My jaw dropped.

  "First of all, Jason is not my boyfriend. We ended a long time ago, and that's a time in my life I'd rather leave forgotten."

  Detective Black kept his gaze steadily trained on my face.

  I tossed my hands in the air. "Do you really think I'm helping him get away with murder? Are you out of your ever-loving mind?"

  Yeah, I was a little scatterbrained when the detective was around, but did he really think I was stupid enough to help someone cover up a murder?

  I pulled a piece of gum out of my top desk drawer and set it in front of me on the desk.

  "Jason King showed up this morning and asked me to help prove his innocence since you seem set to take him down without any real evidence. I do a lot of crazy things for my clients but helping them cover up a murder isn't one of them."

  "How would you know what evidence I do or don't have against him?"

  "I'm a private detective. It's my job. I have my ways."

  We stared at each other, neither of us willing to budge on our stance for what felt like eternity.

  He blew out a frustrated breath and shoved his hand through his inky black hair.

  "Let's cut the bull, Barb." He relaxed in the chair. "We don't know each other that well, but the two times that our paths have crossed today you've been heading straight for trouble, and even though I don't know you, I still don't want to see you wind up hurt because of this guy."

  "I'm not covering for Jason," I said adamantly.

  He blew out a sigh and tapped his fist on his jean-clad knee. "I believe you."

  I blinked uncertainly. "Did I just hear you correctly? Did you say that you believe me?"

  He made a face at my sarcasm then nodded his head. "Yes, you heard correctly, but I do think he's dragging you into something that could get you in trouble or worse yet, hurt. He's not a good guy, Barb."

  "You don't have to warn me about Jason. I already know." I shrugged. "Besides, I'm a grown woman. I can take care of myself."

  I swear I heard him growl.

  "You may be a grown woman, but you're also a fairly new PI. Just promise me that you'll watch your back. If you absolutely have to take on this case, be careful."

  I appreciated his worry for my safety, but I also felt irritated because he thought I couldn't handle myself.

  "Are you saying that because I've never taken on a murder case that I'm some kind of amateur? That I'm not just as good a detective as you are simply because I don't work for the police department?"

  My blood pressure started to rise. I felt my face grow hot.

  "No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just warning you to be careful. Sometimes the person you think you know turns out to be a total stranger."

  I took a deep breath, because whether I liked it or not, his warning was something Jason had taught me years ago. I'd thought I knew him, but I hadn't. Was Jason taking advantage of me by playing me again? Detective Black had given me something to think about.

  "I was hired by Jason King to prove his innocence, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

  His brilliant green eyes glittered with warning. A prickle of heat skittered across my skin. He was as hot as sin in the summertime. His gaze bore into mine, and I had to grip the edge of my desk to keep from squirming. He was a big, sexy, pain in my butt, and I wanted nothing more than to throw him down on the desk and ride out my frustration.

  It was totally the wrong thought to think at the time, but hey, my love life was practically nonexistent and had been for more than a year. Sexy stray thoughts were bound to buzz through my head from time to time, especially with someone like Detective Black breathing down my neck.

  He stood abruptly and strode to my office door.

  He turned back to face me. "I'm warning you," he said and pointed at me. "Be careful, and stay out of my way, because I won't hesitate to throw your butt in jail next time I catch you running half-naked down the street…no matter how beautiful you are."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I would not let the fact that a hunky detective had called me beautiful interfere with my job.

  My dreams maybe but not my job. After Detective Black left my office and I'd given Kelly and Mandy a rundown of Detective Black's visit, they'd called it a day. About an hour later I decided to follow their lead. It had been a long day, and I was starving. I powered down my computer, tossed the offending remnants of my jeans in the trashcan, locked up the office, and went home.

  The second I walked into the house my cat, Mickey, twisted himself around my ankles begging for a pet and some food, even though his dish was almost completely full. Mickey was pretty demanding, but I chalked that up to the fact that he was a male. I'd never met a male anything that wasn't somewhat demanding.

  I filled Mickey's dishes with fresh food and water, patted him on the head, and made my way to the shower.

  As the hot water ran over my head and shoulders, I let myself run through what I knew about the case thus far.

  The receipts to the motel in Trinity Grove were enough to tell me there was a big chance that Jason and Lydia were having an affair. Still, I couldn't shake the question of why Jason and Lydia would be sneaking out to the Grove when they'd obviously been meeting in Lydia's home. How else would Jason's fingerprints and personal items have gotten in her bedroom?

  There was also the possibility that she was sleeping with someone other than Jason, and that's why she was sneaking out to the Grove. Wouldn't that serve Jason the Cheater right? His mistress cheating on him with a man other than her husband? I shook the malicious thought out of my mind and finished my shower, dried off, and slipped into bed.

  Why was Detective Black so sure that Jason was guilty? Did he know something that I didn't? I'd seen the police report. There was nothing there that would suggest Jason actually killed Lydia. Finding a jacket and money clip was a far cry from finding a murder weapon.

  One thing was for certain, Detective Black would be keeping tabs on me now that he knew I was serious about the case, and that wasn't a good thing for me. I'd have to be sneakier than usual to keep him from stopping or interfering with my investigation.

  It was kind of sweet that he was worried about me, but that didn't change my mind about the case.

  I wiggled down in the thick, fluffy linens and closed my eyes. Mickey hopped up on the bed and snuggled up against me. I put my arm around him, and with thoughts of detectives, murders, and affairs buzzing through my mind, finally fell asleep.

  * * *

  I'd intended to get some much-needed shut-eye, but all I ended up getting was some disturbingly sexy dreams of me rolling around
with an extremely naked Detective Tyler Black.

  I didn't know what my problem was, but I needed to get a grip. There was a murder to solve, and I'd get nowhere if I kept letting Detective Black wreak havoc on my mind. Launching my business into a different income bracket and freeing an innocent man teetered in the balance. I needed to get a grip and get down to business.

  I felt a little bit like a zombie, so I hopped back into the shower in an attempt to wake myself up. Mickey stationed his perverted self right outside the glass shower door to watch the show.

  Like I said before, I chalked it up to him being a male and let it go.

  When the hot water ran out, I got out of the shower, dried, and tossed on a pair of comfortable jeans, a baby pink T-shirt, and a matching pair of Converse tennis shoes. My hair was a mess, as it always was in my eyes, so I ran my fingers with a little leave-in conditioner on them through it in an attempt to tame my naturally loose waves. When I no longer resembled a lion, I washed my hands and turned off the bathroom lights.

  Mickey followed me through the house, so I checked his dishes, made sure there was plenty of fresh food and water in them, gave him a quick snuggle, then grabbed my purse, locked the door, and left the house.

  The seasons were taking their sweet time changing, and the midmorning was already so hot, I was starting to sweat. I tossed my purse into the passenger seat and hopped into my car. I was ever so thankful for the air conditioner.

  It's the little things, you know?

  Once I'd backed out of the driveway, I headed toward the nearest coffee shop. Yes, I could've made coffee at my place, but like I said before, I wasn't great at the domestic things, even making the one thing I couldn't seem to live without. I really needed to at least learn to make a decent cup of coffee.

  I turned off the main road and into the parking lot of my favorite coffee shop. I had a big day of investigating planned, and there was no way I was going to start I without my beloved coffee.

  I pulled up to the drive-thru window and placed my order.

  While I waited on my order to be filled, I checked my text messages and found that for once I didn't have any, so I switched over and checked my email. I had three messages waiting in my inbox. One from a disgruntled husband whom I'd busted two weeks ago, thanking me for ruining his marriage. I laughed because, honestly, I thought it was his cheating that ruined his marriage. The other two were potential clients asking for a meeting. Most of my clients came into the office or called, but I knew how embarrassing it could be to admit that someone could possibly be cheating on you, so I also offered to make appointments via email.