by Jamie Hill
"So, uh, when are you available? Friday night? Saturday night?"
Gina shook her head. "I work late Friday night, but I get off at seven Saturday. I'd want to run home and shower real quick."
"Saturday works," he agreed. "Give me your address and I'll pick you up at whatever time you say."
"Why don't you meet me here?" She smiled at him sweetly. She didn't want to give him her address, yet. He had access to all sort of computers and information, and Gina didn't want him checking up on her before their date. It seemed like the kind of thing a cop would do—even a cop with bulging biceps and a nice ass.
"Okay." He stared at her for a moment then grinned. "Why are you looking at me that way?"
"What way?" She batted her lashes.
* * * *
It'd been a long time since Brady felt apprehensive before an evening out. He'd been on scores of dates with countless women, a fact he rarely tried to hide. Everyone in the Wichita Police Department knew he liked women, and women liked him. Brady had few secrets, but he did have rules.
He dated one woman at a time. He always practiced safe sex, and had his blood tested regularly. He liked things as clean and neat as possible.
Brady enjoyed the company of women, and treated them well. He was upfront about his intentions, because he never wanted to hurt anyone when he said goodbye. He left on good terms—but he always left.
It wasn't something he thought about, it was simply the way his relationships drifted. They had fun until it wasn't fun anymore, and then it was over. Ladies understood that, because he was honest with them. They weren't always happy about it, but that was life.
Some of them dumped him first. Brady had a healthy ego, but wasn't foolish enough to believe every woman would be crazy about him. He was what he was, a hopeless romantic who liked to have a good time, in and out of the sack. Straightforward about his intentions, and so far, things had worked out fine.
Yet he was nervous as a sixteen year old kid pulling into the Pink Banana Club parking lot on Saturday evening. Tiny acrobats did flips and summersaults in his belly. Exiting his sport utility vehicle, Brady adjusted the waistband of his navy slacks, thinking that was why his stomach ached. It wasn't. He was excited to go on a date with Gina Morris.
He was curious to see where she lived, too. He couldn't find anything about her in the police computer database. Brady didn't usually check out his dates beforehand, but he'd already established, for some reason, this was no ordinary date.
He entered the club and peered around. Gina was behind the bar, talking to another waitress. When he approached, they stopped talking, and both looked at him. Gina smiled. "Good timing. Rita just got here to take over. Let me punch out and grab my purse."
"Fine." He leaned against the bar as she walked off.
"Get you anything?" The other waitress licked her lips and gave him the once-over.
Brady smiled. "No thanks, Rita." He took in the nearly empty room. "Quiet night."
The bartender spoke from behind her. "Every night's been quiet since that body showed up. People are nervous."
"Understandable." Brady nibbled a pretzel from a bowl on the bar. "Hopefully, that'll pass soon, and things can get back to normal."
"Any idea who the guy was?" The bartender asked.
Brady looked at him. With curly red hair and glasses, the kid looked barely old enough to be serving drinks. "Randy, isn't it?"
He nodded.
"Well, Randy, I'm actually not working that case. But, no, I don't think they've identified the body yet." Not that he'd tell the bartender if they had, but he liked to give the perception of playing nice.
Gina returned with a fringed handbag over her shoulder and stopped next to Brady. "Ready?"
"Yep." Brady nodded to Randy and Rita, both of whom seemed a bit jealous. He wasn't sure if they were jealous of him or Gina, but it didn't matter. "Night, all."
"Night," Randy repeated.
"See you around," Rita purred.
"Yeah, see you." Gina grabbed Brady's arm and ushered him to the door. He pushed it open and she muttered under her breath, "That woman fucks anything with a dick. I'm just warning you."
He choked out a laugh and smiled at her appreciatively. "You swear like a cop, Miss Morris. Are you sure you never went through the academy?"
She snorted. "Yeah, right. Me, a cop. Good one, Marshall." Pausing in front of a red convertible, she looked up at him. "This is me. Where are you parked?"
Brady nodded down a few spaces. "Blue SUV. I'll follow you."
She looked him up and down once and gave a small smile. "You look nice. Where we going?"
"Portelli's, unless you're not in the mood for Italian."
"Italian's fine. And after?"
He shrugged. "Dancing? I'd vote for that over a movie, but the choice is yours."
She grinned and leaned in, brushing her hip against his. "Dancing sounds good. I was just asking so I'd know what to wear. I'll see you at my place."
He returned the smile and opened her car door, then closed it behind her. Taking long strides, he reached his vehicle and tossed the keys in the air playfully. This had the prospects of being a great night.
It was a short drive to Gina's apartment complex, in an upper middle class neighborhood. Brady was glad to see the location was good, and not in some rundown area. Wichita, Kansas had plenty of both.
"Nice." They stepped inside and he checked out the apartment. The place was sparsely furnished, but what was there looked like quality stuff. A large white sofa adorned with red pillows sat in the center of the room. Atop the matching white chair sprawled a huge, tan-colored animal. "You do have a cat."
"I told you I did." She bent to stroke her pet, who barely acknowledged their presence. "This is my Pussy."
He stepped up beside them. "You seriously named your cat Pussy?"
"No, I did not. My brother did. Her full name is Pussy Galore, after the James Bond chick." Gina nuzzled the cat, who stretched and accepted the affection with apparent resignation.
He leaned in and glanced at the animal. "Not very demonstrative, is she?"
Chuckling, Gina stood. "She likes to remain aloof. But let me come in here once and ignore her, and she'd really let me have it."
"Yeah, she seems pretty fierce." He gazed at the cat skeptically.
Gina shook one finger at him. "She still has her claws, so watch out." She motioned to the sofa. "Might as well get comfortable. I'd tell you I won't be long but that's a lie. I'll be a while. There's wine or beer in the kitchen, and the TV remote is on the table. Ash tray, too. Make yourself at home." Strolling to the hallway, she stopped and looked at him.
"I'll be fine." He smiled, and watched her go. When he heard the shower running he sauntered into the kitchen and snooped around. There were a couple of bills on the table, but no personal mail. The kitchen was functional but didn't look particularly homey. He guessed she might not be the domestic type.
Brady poured a glass of wine and wandered back out to the front room, eying the décor again. There were no photos. Usually a single woman living on her own had family pictures. She mentioned a brother and there had to be parents, although they might be dead. If they were, she'd be more likely than ever to have photos. But there were none.
He spotted the ash tray she mentioned but didn't light up. Even in his own home, he preferred to smoke outside to avoid the stale odor. More and more businesses were going smoke-free, and he was slowly weaning himself off the nasty habit.
The shower ended and he stood by the sofa, studying the cat. She was big and furry. He could see why someone might be attracted to her, but he wasn't particularly a feline fan. Dogs were more to his liking, and although he had the space for one, his current position didn't allow him pets of any kind. He was often gone until all hours, and some nights never made it home at all.
"She doesn't cause a lot of trouble. I guess you can tell," Gina said from the hallway.
He turned and inhaled as he spotted
her, standing with a towel wrapped around her chest. She'd piled her hair on her head in a messy knot. In her hands, she held two dresses, one red and one black. He tried to focus on them and not the short towel.
"I couldn't decide. Which do you like?" She held the dresses up.
"Hmmm." Brady tried to concentrate, but the blood was flowing out of his brain in a southern direction. "They're both incredible." The red dress had a halter top which would showcase her cleavage perfectly. The black number had thin spaghetti straps and a tight, shirred bodice. It would showcase everything else. "I can't decide either." He moved in front of her. "Maybe we should just stick with the towel. I know I like that."
Gina's eyes lit up with mischief, and for a moment, he thought she was going to drop the towel. Brady took a step backwards, his heart pounding. "The black dress, I think."
She grinned. "The look of terror that crossed your face just now was amazing."
"Terror…humph." He tried to brush it off.
"Pure, unadulterated fear." She leaned toward him, nodding. "Black dress it is. Give me ten more minutes and I'll be ready."
Brady cleared his throat. "Take all the time you need."
Laughter tinkled as she returned to the other room.
He frowned and stomped back over to the sofa.
True to her word, ten minutes later, Gina reappeared. With the barest hint of make-up highlighted by luscious red lips and long, springy curls cascading around her shoulders, she looked as gorgeous as Brady knew she would. The tight, little black dress had been a wise choice. His date was an absolute knock-out. "Shall we go?" He forced himself to look away.
"You bet." She grinned at him, and they walked out.
He initiated light conversation on the way to the restaurant and they never stopped talking through dinner. Several times they reminded each other to eat as their pasta grew cold.
"So, just the one brother? No sisters?" He shoved noodles around on his plate, more interested in her than the fettuccini.
"Nope." Gina shoved her plate back, apparently feeling the same way. She sipped what was left in her wine glass. "Danny got married a few years ago. Teresa is the closest thing to a sister I could want. She's a doll. And their kids, prezioso. Just precious. Max is six, Tess is four. They both have curly hair and cheeks of a cherub. I could just…" She made pinching motions in the air.
Brady chuckled and mimicked her movements. "Ah, the hands-on type of an aunt. I'll bet they love that."
She smiled. "They're good kids. We get along great. So what about you? Nieces, nephews?"
He shook his head. "Nope, I'm an only child. I've really never spent much time around kids. I do have a friend with a couple of great boys. Mark and Devon are seven and nine, I think. They have this really cute baby girl, Cindy."
"How old is she?"
Brady shrugged. "Damned if I know. They still count her age in months. Jack could probably tell me in days. He's a devoted dad."
Gina forced a shudder. "Babies are cute, as long as they're someone else's. They don't always smell that great, and they're pretty tough to bribe. I prefer kids a bit older."
He laughed. "I'm with you, there. I'm not used to them. My parents had me later in life, so it was always just me. My father died when I was entering college. Mom died four years later, when I was getting out. She got to see me graduate, at least."
"That's sweet. I'm sorry about your folks. I lost my mother when I was twelve. It was triste. Sad."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Brady leaned back in his chair. "So how badly did I screw up, bringing you to a supposedly Italian restaurant?" He hadn't realized her nationality before, but the words scattered throughout her speech made it suddenly, perfectly clear. What had appeared to him as gypsy in her bloodline was actually Italian.
She smiled. "You just figuring that out? Maybe it's just my papa and my brother who have 'goombah' printed across their foreheads."
He reached out and stroked a thumb across her forehead, but left his hand there. "Must be." His fingers grew warm. The flush he felt extended right down through his body.
She gazed into his eyes, neither one daring to move or speak.
When the contact grew unbearable, Brady drew his hand away. He looked down and cleared his throat. "So, uh, your mom? You were twelve?"
Gina folded her napkin and placed it on the table. "Yes," she answered softly. "I really don't like to talk about it. Would you excuse me for a moment? I'll be right back." She shoved her chair away from the table and stood.
"Of course." Brady hopped to his feet, standing until she was gone. Her departure was sudden, but he wasn't too concerned. She was the one who'd mentioned her mother in the first place. If she preferred not to talk about the woman, no problem. He thought Gina got that. He also sensed the intensity of their gaze might have flustered her as much as it had him.
Glancing around as he took his seat, he noticed a bald man with a thick mustache who seemed to be staring at him. When the man saw Brady watching, he looked away quickly. Another people-watcher? For some reason, he didn't think so. He'd keep an eye out, just to be sure.
Tossing back the last of his wine, Brady straightened his tie and re-tucked the front of his shirt into his slacks. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and warm breath in his ear.
"You look fine, you handsome devil. Shall we dance?" Gina leaned in and smiled at him.
He grinned. "Sweet talker. Absolutely. Nothing I'd rather do." He took her hand and stood, leading her onto the dance floor.
From the corner of his eye he scoped out the table where the bald-headed man had been seated. It was empty. One less thing to think about. Now he could focus on the beautiful woman he gently pulled into his arms.
Gina snuggled against his chest. She was exactly the right height, her body the perfect fit against his.
Brady allowed his hands to roam up her back, until he touched silky skin. He stifled a groan as his erection rose in response to her shapely form.
"Mm," she murmured, grinding her hips against his.
He hesitated, but she only pulled him closer. Brady closed his eyes and decided to stop fighting his natural reaction. Sexual tension sizzled between them. It was obvious they both knew it and enjoyed it.
He brushed the hair away from her ear with his chin and whispered, "This is nice."
"I think so, too." She tightened her arms around his neck. "It's been a wonderful evening."
He inhaled the scent of her light, spicy cologne. It suited her perfectly. Tantalizing with a hint of mystery, like Gina Morris herself. The detective in him loved that. Delving into what made her tick seemed like a fine idea. But he wanted to take it slow.
He'd been on plenty of first dates that hadn't ended on the dance floor. This one would. One kiss goodnight on the doorstep, maybe two. Heaven help him, if it went much further than that, he might not be able to stop.
They danced in silence through several more slow songs. When the tempo of the music increased, Brady pulled back. "Think we should call it a night?"
"I suppose." She nodded.
He enjoyed the look of regret in her eyes. He felt the same pangs. They were definitely in sync about that.
Neither said much on the drive back to her apartment. When he opened the car door for her, he reached for her hand, and held it while walking her to the door. "I had a great time," he said as she stopped to face him.
"So did I. Which surprises the hell out of me. I might be coerced into doing it again, Detective." She smiled at him.
"Coerced, huh?" Tugging her hand, he pulled her into his arms. "I like the sounds of that." Brady placed a light kiss on her lips.
Gina pressed her body against his. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips.
He parted them to allow her tongue access. She tasted as wonderful as he knew she would, and he savored the kiss while it lasted. His erection was back full strength, and he could tell she felt it. With renewed regret he backed away. "I'd better go, now. Thanks again for the wo
nderful evening."
Gina cast a glance down his body before looking into his eyes. "Yeah, you probably should. Good night, Detective, and thank you."
He loved the hungry-feline expression on her face, and it boosted his ego to see her checking out his crotch. He smiled to himself as he strolled back to his Explorer. I'm such a man. The date ended just as he'd predicted, but the idea that she might have wanted more made him happy as hell.
He thought about her on the fifteen-minute drive to his house. They'd talked for several hours, but he didn't feel as if he knew her, yet. She was gorgeous with a sparkling personality, but it seemed like there was so much more, just beneath the surface.
A twinge of guilt struck him. Is Gina really more complicated than the other women I've met? Perhaps he hadn't bothered to get to know the others. He'd honestly never given it much thought.
The idea of taking time to explore Gina, slowly peel away the layers to her personality, excited him tremendously. His erection twitched, and Brady sighed. Learn to live with it, man.
Chapter Two
"Where are we on this thing?" Lieutenant Dan Forrest studied the wall map of the Riverfront district, counting red push pins which marked locations. "Six burglaries so far?"
"Six we know about." Brady sipped a cup of lukewarm coffee and grimaced.
"If things were stolen from other warehouses, why wouldn't they report the thefts?" Brady's partner, Joey Costa, flipped open a pad and prepared to jot down notes.
Brady exchanged glances with his lieutenant and tried not to chuckle. Costa was a brand-spanking new detective, freshly promoted and eager to get to work. Brady's last partner moved out of state, leaving him to take on the newbie as his sidekick. Costa wasn't bad, just green. He actually seemed like a bright kid. His curly dark hair and dimples emphasized the 'kid' part. His penchant for crullers, the oblong, twisted fried pastries, reaffirmed it.
"Sometimes, the stolen goods were already stolen." Brady picked up a green push pin and stuck it on the map. "As in the case of the Kilmer Warehouse, here. You see, we know they were robbed one night, but they refuse to admit it."