Undercover Passion

by Raye Morgan

  Somehow that didn’t give him a lot of comfort. “Haven’t you got a men’s room I could us?”

  Her face scrunched up. “Sure, but I’d feel funny going in there with you.”

  “No kidding. Now you know how I feel.”

  “Oh, come on.” She tugged on his hand. “No one will know.”

  “I’ll know,” he grumbled, but he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and followed her inside. And looked around with eyebrows raised. “This is a restroom? It looks more like the lobby of a small hotel.”

  “See? This is the best place, believe me.” She put the “out of order” sign on the door, just as she’d promised, then turned on the tap in one of the sinks.

  “Take your shirt off,” she said, turning back to him. “Here, I’ll hold your jacket.”

  Slipping out of the sports coat, he handed it to her, then unbuttoned the shirt, took it off and tossed it into the water that was pooling in the sink.

  “There you go,” he said, turning back to face her.

  “Oh!”

  She was standing very still, staring at his torso, and she made a little sound that caused his heart to skip a beat. For the first time in his life he was more than just vaguely glad he had the kind of build that might bring on a sound like that.

  He glanced in the mirror, noticed with a bit of surprise how the light gleamed on the rounded muscles of his shoulders and the hard panels and ridges that made up his chest. Well, yeah, it was a damn good bod if he did say so himself.

  Abby certainly seemed to think so. She was staring at him as though she’d never seen a man without a shirt before. He had a moment of suspicion, wondering if she was putting on an act. She was a little old to be quite so seemingly naive and overwhelmed by a male body. As a cop, he suspected everyone and everything. But his distrust melted away quickly.

  It wasn’t that there was any proof that she was for real; it was more that he wanted her to be for real. So he was more than willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  “Here,” she said a bit shakily, handing him back his sports coat, blinking fast and swallowing hard. “You’d better put it on. You might get cold.”

  He took it from her but hesitated, fascinated by the wide-eyed way she was staring at him. “You okay?”

  She raised her gaze to meet his and nodded. “You are so gorgeous,” she said breathlessly. “Could I…?” She raised her hand. “Could I just touch you?” she asked softly.

  That pounding he heard could have been someone trying to get in, but after a second or two he realized it was just his own heart beating out a primitive tattoo in his head as the blood began to race through his veins.

  “Sure,” he said, glad to hear that his voice didn’t sound as choked as he’d expected. “Go ahead.”

  Her hand reached out tentatively, then settled just below where his collarbones met. It flattened out and began a slow trail down across his taut flesh.

  “Oh!”

  She made that sound again and he was instantly as aroused as he’d ever been. Grabbing her hand, he pressed it over his heart so she could feel the pulse. She closed her eyes, as if savoring it. He was beginning to lose rational thought. Another moment and he would be stepping over the boundary into pure animal instinct. Did he really want to do this?

  Her face tilted up toward him and her lips parted and he decided kissing her was only going to be the first step. The sports coat fluttered to the floor and he kicked it out of the way, then pulled her up against him and lowered his head to take her mouth with his.

  She opened to him as though she were giving him her soul, with no hesitation. She tasted sweet and hot and more exciting than the speed of a jet plane. The room was pulsing now, pulsing and throbbing and spinning—egging them on, driving home a rhythm meant to entice them into an ancient dance. He was ready. He felt as though he’d been born ready. Was she?

  If not, she was giving a good imitation. Her body was melting against his, soft and warm and wonderful. He pressed harder so that she could feel how much he wanted her and she didn’t pull away. That only made him hotter. All he wanted was to have her. Nothing else mattered anymore.

  At first the sound of water running was just a part of it all, the river of existence, the lifeblood of the moment. It took the extra-loud splashing sound to remind them both of what they’d come here for.

  “Oh!” Abby cried, jerking away. “The water!”

  Water was pouring over the edge of the sink and making a mess. Daniel scooped up his sports coat, just saving it from a hungry stream, and Abby turned off the faucet, then grabbed paper towels and began mopping up the puddles, laughing all the while at this ridiculous situation.

  Daniel watched her. He was breathing hard, but he was slowly regaining his equilibrium. As he did so, his brain came back online, and eventually, a thought came to him.

  He was an idiot.

  That thought began to hammer him insistently and he couldn’t ignore it. What was he thinking? How could he be so dense?

  Abby was mopping up the floor, then scrubbing at the stain in his shirt, and all the time she was chattering on and on about something. But he wasn’t listening. His head was filled with a throbbing again, only not the good kind this time.

  Logic, man. Where’s that critical thinking you’re so proud of?

  Okay, you met Abby. She was a little put off by you from the beginning. She didn’t exactly fall into your lap. You manipulated her a bit and she didn’t like it. Then you got her in trouble with her boss and she really didn’t like it. Finally, you spent a nice half hour trading insults with her in your grandmother’s hospital room. You parted ways as you were thumbing noses at each other.

  The next time you see her she’s passing out brochures and tending to the needs of Dr. Richie. For some reason, she’s suddenly your best friend. No, more than a friend. She’s doing the eye thing, and smiling. She’s become a different person. And worse, she’s suddenly practically begging for love.

  This was all wrong. With his training and his finely honed instincts, he should have seen it right away.

  Abby had gone to the dark side.

  Mentally he slapped his own forehead. Of course. Why did he notice it so quickly on others but take so long with her?

  Because you wanted her new attraction to be for real. Sucker.

  He swore softly, but Abby didn’t notice. She held up the shirt.

  “I can’t get it out. You’ll have to try stain remover.”

  “That’s okay,” he said gruffly, working hard at coming back to earth and steeling himself against falling into the Abby trap again. He should have known what it was from the first. He should have guessed that it would only be a matter of time before she’d succumb to whatever it was that was infecting everyone who had anything to do with Dr. Richie and his clinic. The love attack.

  “Thanks for trying.”

  She turned and favored him with a glowing smile. Just a few minutes before, that smile would have had him panting like a puppy. But he was on to her now. He didn’t even smile back. It was time he made another stab at being a professional.

  “Tell me this, Abby,” he said, shrugging back into the sports coat. “Have you been drinking?” He might as well eliminate any normal reasons why she might be acting so out of character.

  “Nope. I don’t.”

  He frowned. “You don’t what?”

  “Drink.” She dazzled him with her smile again. “I never touch alcohol.”

  He nodded skeptically. “Right. Then you’ve been taking something.”

  She stared at him blankly. “What are you getting at?”

  He hooked his thumbs in his belt and stared at her coolly. “I want to know what you’re taking.”

  She frowned, shaking her head. “I’m not taking anything.”

  “Besides the clinic vitamins.”

  “Not even the vitamins. To tell you the truth, I can’t stand swallowing pills. So I don’t take them.”

  He stared a
t her. She looked completely open. Would such a pretty face lie?

  You bet.

  Could he take her word for anything at all?

  Not on your life.

  But she claimed she hadn’t taken anything.

  Was he wrong? Was all this just a natural progression for her? He thought it over again, step by step.

  Nah. No way.

  She was acting like a girl with a crush—but earlier in the evening he could have sworn her crush was on Dr. Richie. As far as he could see, that meant she was as far gone as all the other love zombies he’d seen haunting the hospital halls.

  “So I guess we’re down to looking for pods in the clinic basement, huh?” he said grimly.

  “Basement?” She was beginning to look perplexed. “I don’t think there is a basement.”

  “Oh, there’s a basement all right,” he said knowingly. “If only in your mind.”

  She shook her head. “You’re talking crazy.” Her puzzled look faded and she smiled again. “But you’re awful cute.” She sighed and looked down at the soggy shirt. “Why don’t we go back to my apartment? I’ll see if I’ve got the right kind of stain remover. I just can’t stand to leave your shirt this way.”

  He hesitated, considering. Why not? It would be one more chance to see if he could figure out what she was taking. Because she had to be taking something. Unless the good doctor was in to some sort of remote mind control. Daniel couldn’t actually rule it out, but he was pretty sure the chances were slim.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Abby wanted to stop by the reception hall to let the others know she was leaving. Dr. Richie was still surrounded by fans, so she checked on the two assistants and told them, then stopped by the counter to pick up her things.

  At each stop she looked back at where Daniel was waiting for her, and each time she did, her breath caught in her throat. He gave her chills, he was so sexy, standing there with his jacket hanging open, revealing that iron-hard chest with its lovely tanned ridges.

  Janet Greco, one of the women she’d signed up for the NoWait treatment program that evening, noticed, too.

  “Oh, my,” she said appreciatively. “Is he yours?”

  Abby felt as though she was glowing. “For the moment.”

  Janet sighed. “Where can I get one like that?”

  Abby looked at him and her heart skipped a beat. He really was gorgeous. She slowly shook her head.

  “I don’t know. I think he’s one of a kind. Sorry.”

  She was doing that floating thing again. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt as though she were living on two levels at the same time. It was interesting that Daniel had asked her if she was drinking, because she felt like what she’d imagined it’d be like if she was drunk. Only not really. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever felt quite like this before.

  Still, the duality was fascinating. There was the old, sober and sensible Abby on one level, watching all that was going on, and then there was the new bubbly Abby having a lovely time and feeling a deep, abiding love for all of mankind. And an especially deep and interesting attraction for one Daniel O’Callahan. She wanted to be with him, to talk to him, to kiss him again. She was beginning to think she might just be crazy about the man.

  This had never happened to her before. She’d dated, had even liked a few of the men she went out with. But she’d never had that sense of having found that special one before. Hearing other women talk about falling in love had always left her feeling a little out of it. She’d begun to wonder if she’d just been born without the love gene or something.

  And now it looked as though she might have found out she had one after all. If it had finally happened to her, she was glad it was with Daniel. He was strong and compelling and hunky as all get out. And he could kiss like nothing she’d ever dreamed of. Sighing happily, she went back to meet him.

  Daniel followed Abby into her apartment, his best investigative antennae on the alert. It was a nice place, very much as he would have expected. The furniture was casually modern. Books filled the shelves. A Lichtenstein reproduction decorated one wall, an original picture of two small children eating ice cream cones was placed on another. A large Armani porcelain figure of a 1920s flapper filled one corner of the room.

  “Nice,” he said, gesturing toward the fashionably dressed statue.

  Abby smiled. “A gift from my parents when I finished my master’s thesis.”

  He turned to look at her. He’d assumed she was well educated but he didn’t know much more about it. “What was your subject?” he asked.

  “The applications of transcendental meditation on modern psychological modes of auditory perception.”

  He grimaced. “No wonder they gave you an award. It was enough just to memorize a mouthful of a title like that.”

  “My parents always gave me awards for goals challenged and met. It was their way of motivating me.”

  He cast a cynical look her way. “Was all that really necessary? You seem pretty self-motivated to me.”

  She stopped what she was doing and looked back at him. “Thanks for noticing,” she said quietly, smiled and went back to filling a kettle with water.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked him. “I can whip up an omelet in no time.”

  He hesitated, tempted. He really was hungry. But he’d probably better not eat anything here. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally take the mystery substance, whatever it was.

  “No, thanks,” he said, wandering through her kitchen, trying to seem merely restless as he took in everything he could manage, trying to find something that could be the catalyst of the odd behavior she was exhibiting. “But you go ahead.”

  “Oh, no,” she said with obvious regret. “I can’t eat anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m on a diet.” Pulling off the jacket of her suit, she made a slow pirouette before him. “Tell me the truth. Do you think I’m fat?”

  The thin lacy shell didn’t hide much and the shape of her full breasts just happened to be the sort of shape he liked the best. He winced, forcing back the natural reaction that tried to start up his libido again. There was to be no more lusting in this relationship. He had to remain completely detached and totally professional.

  Still, he had to admit she had certain attributes that were bound to linger in his memory for quite some time.

  “Fat? Oh, no.” There could be no mistaking the honesty in his tone. “You’re just right.”

  She pouted provocatively, looking up at him. “I’m fat,” she insisted.

  Either he was going crazy or she wanted more than reassurance. She was yearning toward him, aching for him, and it was all there in her eyes. Wasn’t it?

  His mouth was going dry. “You’re crazy.” He turned away, hands shoved into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “You should eat something.”

  She sighed, and he wasn’t sure if it was with disappointment that he obviously wasn’t going to take her nonverbal invitations for some light intimacy, or if it was just with hunger.

  “I might as well see if I can get this stain out,” she said. “Keep an eye on the teakettle, okay? I’ll just go down to the laundry room at the end of the hall. I’ll be right back.”

  He waited until she was out of sight, then went into action. Working quickly, he opened cabinets one after another, then the refrigerator, looking for anything that might constitute a substance to bring on this lovesick fog thing. Nothing jumped out at him. He hesitated over a small piece of cake on a plate in the refrigerator. It had obviously been nibbled on. Something about it reminded him of Alice in Wonderland and he shrugged. Why not? He pulled a small evidence bag from the stash he always kept in his pocket and broke off a piece to take to the lab.

  The water came to a boil and he poured it out into the waiting teapot, then stepped quickly to the bathroom, doing a fast raid of the medicine cabinet and taking two more samples, though he didn’t hold out much hope for either
one.

  “I think this new spray I bought is doing the job.”

  Abby’s voice came to him from down the hall. Surprisingly, it stopped him cold.

  “That’s great,” he called back.

  He looked down at the sample bag in his hand and for just a moment he felt guilty. He was snooping around behind her back. This wasn’t a good thing.

  But it was a necessary thing. And a part of his job. After all, the investigation had come first. His friendship with Abby was a by-product of the research he was doing.

  What the hell was wrong with him? Just get on with it.

  He set his jaw. One more room to check and he didn’t have much time.

  Her bedroom was dark. All he needed was one quick look at what she had on her dresser, and then he would be back out in the living room, acting innocent. Reaching around the corner, he didn’t feel a light switch. He took a couple of steps into the darkness, reaching out to try to make contact with a toggle or a dimmer switch, judging just about where he would think one would have to be.

  But instead of the wall, his hand came in contact with something furry. He saw a pair of golden eyes at the same time he heard the high-pitched screech as something came hurtling at his head.

  “Hey!” he yelled out, batting it away, and something dark went scuttling from the room.

  “Daniel?” Abby was coming down the hallway. “What’s wrong?”

  He got out of the bedroom in time, but he couldn’t hide the scratch across his cheek.

  “What have you got in here? A tiger?” he demanded, wiping a line of blood from the wound.

  “Oh, no!” she cried.

  He looked up pathetically, expecting sympathy and coddling, but Abby was rushing right past him into the living room, searching for the animal.

  “Ming! Are you okay?”

  She found the cat behind the couch and pulled her out, petting her and cooing. He knew it was a petty thing, but the fact that her first concern was for the cat really annoyed him. Especially when he could have sworn that cat was looking at him smugly over her shoulder.

  “How many people keep an attack cat in their apartment?” he asked grumpily, dabbing at the wound with a tissue as he came in and sat down in an armchair.