by Tina Donahue
Gabe couldn’t blame her after having met strange Stefin.
She moved to the next room, decorated similar to the first. Inside was a young woman in a pale green dress. Two lit cigarettes rested on a plate, while she held another in her hand despite the law against lighting up indoors.
Gabe squinted at what seemed to be smoke rising from the ends of her hair. “Are you okay?” he asked her. Was she on fire?
“Zoe’s getting ready to quit again,” Constance said just loud enough for him and Becca to hear. “Every time she does, she goes overboard like this. We try not to notice.”
He frowned. “I wasn’t talking about the cigs. Can’t you see her hair’s smoking? I think she’s on fire.”
Constance grabbed his arm before he could go into the room and put her out. “Zoe, sweetie, your hair?”
She patted it. “I’m good.”
Was she serious? Her voice reminded him of the kid in The Exorcist after the demon took possession, and her office reeked of a flowery perfume. Gabe wondered if she was also from a poor Russian village like Stefin. Maybe it would explain why they both drenched themselves in fragrance.
“Zoe,” Becca said, “this is Detective Gabe Legrand, here to check out our services.”
He smiled weakly at Zoe. “What do you do here?”
“She manages Stefin and the rest of our customer engagement team,” Becca said, clearly proud. “We couldn’t operate the business without her.”
Zoe smiled shyly. “I do my best.”
“What’s wrong with her voice?” Gabe whispered to Constance.
“Smoking. Bronchitis. You name it.”
“Better make sure she gives up the butts before she gets seriously ill or another cop comes in here and issues a citation.”
“You’re not going to do that?”
“I’ll turn a blind eye this time.”
She gave him a sultry look. “Thanks.”
His balls twitched.
“We’ll let you get back to work,” Becca said to Zoe and closed her door.
In the break room, she introduced him to a black guy with dreadlocks, named Anatol.
“Bonjour,” Anatol said.
Gabe nodded. “Hi.” He wondered if the business was sponsoring him too. Never had he met such a diverse group. The guy next to Anatol was Taro. He had auburn hair, blue eyes, and a country accent worse than the actors on Nashville. Next to him was Daemon. His cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk’s from all the food he was stuffing into his mouth—McDonald’s Big Macs, Hostess cupcakes, Hershey candy bars.
It’d take more than a few chews and swallows before he got all of it down. Feeling mischievous, Gabe asked, “What do you do here, Daemon?”
He swallowed his food without chewing and belched loudly, after which his gaze shot to Becca.
She wagged a finger at him. “What did we tell you about that?”
He pulled in his shoulders. “Sorry.” He turned to Taro and Anatol. “People don’t make noises in polite company.”
They looked at him blankly.
Criminal masterminds these guys weren’t…if anything, they were more like the Three Stooges. Throw Stefin in as a spare and Gabe figured Becca had her hands more than full. Either she had very low standards for employees or she was the nicest person he’d ever known for having hired these guys. Hell, a sane person would have run in the opposite direction.
No way could anything illegal be going down here.
“Now, MJ,” Becca said and headed back down the hall to the reception area.
The moment they arrived, Heather and another young woman jumped apart, their lips damp and bruised from kissing.
Gabe stared at who he guessed was MJ. She was built better than a nineteen-fifties pinup girl—though not as nice as Constance—and had tawny skin, amazing violet eyes, and long dark hair.
She was also supposed to be dating Jason from Death Grip, so why had she been smooching with Heather?
“MJ,” Constance said, “this is Detective Legrand.”
“Gabe, please,” he said.
Constance stared at his mouth. God help him, he stared at hers, memories of their kisses flooding him, stiffening his cock.
“Hey there, Mr. Detective.”
Gabe looked over at MJ’s approach. Her hips swayed provocatively, her fragrance reminding him of incense, what an Arab sheik would burn while he fucked countless concubines.
Subtle MJ wasn’t. Despite how sexy she came off, his boys and rod weren’t impressed, wanting no one but Constance, who was giving MJ a hard stare.
“Don’t you have work to do?” Constance asked her.
Whoa. Was she jealous? Although Constance had absolutely no reason to be when it came to him, Gabe was going to reward her for protecting her territory as soon as they took off. To get through this more quickly, he spoke to MJ. “What’s your role here?”
“Whatever you wish.”
Heather started coughing and wheezing as if she’d swallowed wrong. Becca and Constance frowned at MJ.
It seemed she was a bit of a nympho. Gabe decided to set her straight. “An answer to my question will be sufficient.”
“She’s our intake person,” Constance said quickly, still glaring at MJ. “She asks our clients about goals, what they expect from the service.”
MJ offered a feline smile. “I like to make wishes come true.”
“Don’t you mean dreams?” Gabe asked.
She waved his comment away. “Let’s not argue semantics. What are you hoping for?”
He wasn’t about to get into his X-rated fantasies with her. “I think Constance can help me there.” He gave her a smile. “Where’s your office? I’d like to see it.”
“Good idea,” Becca said. “The rest of us need to get back to work. Now.”
Like a good girl, Heather hurried to her desk and stared at her computer screen. MJ seemed eager to stir up some more shit but finally slipped into a small office off the reception area.
Constance laced her fingers through Gabe’s. “This way.”
Short of her door, Constance stopped, not knowing what MJ had done to her office. Deep down, Constance knew MJ had been flirting with Gabe to keep his mind off the stuff really going down here, and Constance had played along, pretending to be jealous.
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t faking much. Still, she trusted MJ to keep her hands off him. Given Gabe’s reaction, he wasn’t into her at all.
Nice.
However, there was still the problem of MJ’s mischievous streak. As Constance turned the knob, she prayed her office wasn’t set up like a bedroom or a sultan’s—
Holy… She stopped just inside the door with Gabe beside her.
He whistled. “Wow.”
No kidding. She had the same antique furniture Becca did, along with scores of ferns, wall hangings depicting pastoral scenes, and three Tiffany lamps, their jeweled shades creating a kaleidoscope of color on the ceiling and polished wood surfaces. The room smelled lemony, as if someone had just cleaned.
Constance warned herself not to gape or grin, since she was supposed to be used to this stuff.
Gabe eyed her chair. A throne couldn’t have been more ornate. “You must be important.”
Appeared so. “I am Becca’s assistant.”
Gabe turned a slow circle, taking everything in before he closed the door. “About the people who work here…”
Constance’s chest tightened with so much panic, she found it difficult to breathe. Just as quickly, outrage bubbled up at what he was going to say or accuse them of.
Well, dammit, he couldn’t.
Everyone had gone through so much trouble for her, including Heather, who felt like a prostitute if she wore anything but white, and Zoe, drenched in perfume she hated, not to mention Stefin, Anatol, and Taro having to
wear contacts despite how uncomfortable they were.
Constance crossed her arms beneath her breasts and faced Gabe, ready to rumble just as Zoe always was. “What about them?”
He seemed surprised at her attitude. “Take it easy. I didn’t mean anything bad.” He shrugged. “Judgmental maybe, but not bad.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Has Daemon been in an accident recently?”
Constance made a face, not following.
Gabe gestured as if searching for the right thing to say. At last, he sighed. “Is he special?”
“Yeah, to Heather. He’s her boyfriend.”
Surprise registered on his face. “Then why was she kissing MJ earlier?”
“Heather’s into MJ too.”
Gabe mumbled, “Maybe I was wrong about her being shy.”
“You’ve been wrong about everyone here,” Constance said, feeling protective. “If Father Archambault had stuck around and asked us questions rather than running to you, he would have known we’re just ordinary people trying to get through the day.”
“Ordinary?” Gabe arched one eyebrow.
Torn between smiling and sighing, Constance wondered if it would always be this way between them. Fitting together so well in his world, while hers gave him nothing but pause. “Admittedly, everyone here is a little rough around the edges, but it makes them perfect for our clients. They don’t intimidate those poor guys by being cool or sophisticated.”
Gabe seemed to be considering her comment, then finally nodded. “Makes sense. Sorry for thinking poorly of Daemon. He seems so…”
“Guileless?”
“I was going to say clueless. Strange for a grown man.”
“Even if he is awkward socially, he’s a good guy.”
Gabe lifted his hands. “Not arguing with you at all. You work with great people.” He lowered his hands. “I’m glad. Thank you for letting me come here tonight.”
He was killing her again with his kindness and good heart. Helpless to resist his allure any longer, Constance crossed the room and stopped in front of him.
When she didn’t say anything, he lifted his shoulders. “What?”
Her answer was to sag against him, hands on his face, bringing his mouth down to hers. Hours had passed since she’d last tasted and smelled him. Constance didn’t think she could deny herself a moment longer.
Gabe seemed as deprived, one hand on the back of her head to keep her lips to his, the other on her ass, pushing her cunt to his rigid cock. As he deepened their kiss, they turned, each of them trying to get closer. Although they were practically welded together, it didn’t seem enough to Constance. She wanted to be a part of his blood and soul.
Minutes passed before they’d finished, with Gabe breathing shallowly as he rested his forehead against hers. “When can you leave? You don’t have to work as late as you did yesterday, do you?”
At any other time, she would have. Not tonight. “I’ll ask Becca if I can take off early.”
“How about now? Not only asking her,” he said, “but also going.”
“You’re through for the day?”
“I’m never through. When stuff happens, I have to take care of it. But, yeah, I wrapped up my cases as much as possible so I could have tonight free.” He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, each cheek. “Enjoy it with me. Every minute.”
It was too tempting. She had to resist. “Okay.”
Gabe grinned and kissed her hard for a very long time before finally staggering away. “I’ll wait outside. How long do you think you’ll be?”
“A few minutes.”
“Thank Becca for me. She’s a great person.”
So many emotions welled in Constance, she could barely speak. “I know.”
“See you in a few.”
She listened to him say goodbye to Heather, who gushed about the great night she hoped he’d have. He listened politely for minutes and finally took off with Heather still wishing him well.
Constance sank to one of the needlepoint chairs.
Becca hurried in first, followed by Zoe and MJ and finally Heather.
“Everything all right?” Becca asked.
Zoe huffed. “Let’s cut to the chase. Did he buy it?”
“He thinks you’re all great,” Constance said. “He’s glad I work with such wonderful people.”
Zoe and MJ gave each other a high five. Heather wept happy tears.
Becca sat next to Constance. “What’s wrong?”
What else? Everything they’d done here today was a lie and they’d pulled it off beautifully. Constance should have been doing cartwheels in the hall rather than feeling so ashamed.
If she and Gabe did get more deeply involved, she’d have to tell him the truth, just as Becca had warned. Assuming he didn’t run away shrieking, how in the world would he ever be able to trust her again?
From the moment they’d met, she’d done nothing but evade and lie, while he’d been totally up-front with her.
“Sweetie?” Becca said.
Constance sighed. “Can I leave early? Actually now? Gabe wants to take me out to dinner.”
“Of course.” Becca hugged her. “Have fun.”
After what she’d done and would continue to do, how was she supposed to manage it?
Chapter Nine
He greeted her with a huge grin as tourists and locals streamed past. Women of all ages gave him the once-over, many of them smiling at what they saw.
Constance couldn’t blame them. If they knew Gabe a fraction as well as she did, they would be goners too.
He embraced her as though they’d been separated for decades yet kept his hands chastely on her back. Because he was a good guy, while she was a damn fraud.
After easing away, he studied her face. “Becca give you a hard time about this?”
Constance forced a smile. “Not at all. She said to enjoy.”
“Then you should. She’s your boss, after all.”
“Also one of my BFFs.”
Gabe nodded as if he’d already figured as much. “I hope to see a lot more of her and the others in the future.”
Wasn’t possible. Constance’s deception was one thing, but for everyone else… No way could she ask them to be something they weren’t. It wasn’t fair to anyone, especially Gabe.
With his hand beneath her chin, he lifted her face to his. “Hungry? Granted, it’s early, but we can have drinks and listen to music before getting a table. I know this great out-of-the-way place with awesome jazz. At this time of day, they cater to retirees. Lots of Gershwin, Etta James, BB King, all the greats.”
Constance smiled at his enthusiasm, loving it, wanting him even more when she shouldn’t. Why hadn’t she listened to Becca before falling so hard?
Disappointment swept across his face. “Doesn’t sound good?”
Paradise wouldn’t have been better, though it would last. How long did they have before she slipped up or totally lost it and confessed all—a couple more days, weeks, months? Years weren’t even a consideration.
“Sounds perfect,” she finally said. “How do you know about so many great spots?”
“I’m a cop, baby.” Leaning close, he whispered in her ear. “It’s my freaking job to make this city safe for fun.”
Constance moaned softly as he suckled her lobe. This time when Gabe pulled back, he glanced up at the building. Seeing his surprise, Constance turned.
MJ and Heather were on the landing, watching them. If MJ grinned any harder, she’d break her face. Heather wore her usual full-body blush, eyes sparkling with happy tears.
Gabe gave them a good-natured smile and lifted his hand in farewell. “Have a good one,” he called out.
“You will,” MJ said.
He spoke sotto voce to Constance. “Sexy and
shrewd.”
“You think she’s sexy?”
“Not like you.”
He was doing it again, turning her inside out, making her forget this couldn’t go on. “Where are you taking me?”
Gabe kissed her knuckles. “Every fucking place I can.”
They shared tender kisses at Rambeaus’s bar in between her smoke on the water and his bourbon neat. The band played the first strains of Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue”, with the local boomers applauding vigorously before falling silent. The music took over and swelled, captivating everyone, thickening the blood.
Throughout the piece and others, Constance and Gabe simply regarded each other, lost in their own world, a smile in his eyes, naked longing filling her.
Rarely had she envied mortals more than she did tonight. Once they’d found the person who completed them, they had a real shot at happiness. Not perfect lives, surely. Everyone had their share of crap, but they also had someone to help them through it.
At this moment, Constance wanted to pretend she was just a regular woman, or that Gabe was a demon—no, a warlock—both of them on the same page. The thought made her smile.
“What?” Gabe asked.
She sighed wistfully. “This is nice.”
“It’ll get better once we have our own table.”
With more than an hour to kill before one would be available, they ordered an appetizer of parmesan cheese gnudi. For a place supposedly off the beaten track, this one was immensely popular as dusk fell. Currently, there was standing room only at the bar, with wall-to-wall patrons at the entrance and too many couples on the microscopic dance floor.
When Gabe took Constance’s hand and tried to lead her there, she held back. “There’s no room.”
“After I arrest a few people, there will be.”
She laughed. “Behave.”
“Not a chance.”
With sin in his eyes, Gabe took Constance into his arms and held her close, giving her exactly what she’d missed all these years. A sense of belonging to someone, undeniable closeness. Even though they barely had enough space to sway without bumping into the other couples, it was still perfect. Having him want and cherish her was the greatest aphrodisiac of all, fueling Constance’s desire.