Up the Chimney

by Vonnie Davis

  “Right.” She nodded as she backed toward the door, her nipples still on high-beam. “Our relationship will remain professional, just as it’s always been. If you need a woman during the day here at work, you’ve got Darla. I won’t be added to your list.”

  She released the lock, opened the door, and scurried out.

  He chuffed a laugh and pulled his cell from his jacket pocket. “You don’t get it do you, babe? You’re the only person on my list and have been for some time.” Now that he’d gotten a taste of her and found out how perfectly she fit in his arms, he wasn’t about to give up without a fight. He’d waited for her long enough.

  “Rosie’s Blooms. How can I help you?”

  “I’d like to order your prettiest floral arrangement, but I don’t want the lady to know who sent it. Can you help me with that?”

  Mason stepped out of a scalding shower and dried off. What a long, damn day. Even longer with the news he had to convey to the dead girl’s parents. Their pain and shock drained him just as it did every time he had to deliver tragic information that would alter parents’ lives forever. Maybe that’s why he’d never allowed himself to get emotionally close to anyone. There’d be no pain of losing them.

  Hell, he worried enough about his sister Eva Marie and her three kids, as it was. If he had a wife and children of his own to fear for, he’d be a basket case. How many times today, when he looked at the deceased young female, did he think of Ciera? She drove to and from work alone. Lived alone. She was vulnerable to sick bastards who preyed on women.

  He was beginning to care for sweet, spunky Ciera too much.

  He spread a line of toothpaste over his toothbrush and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Who was he kidding? There was no “beginning.” He already cared. His wrist went to work swishing the brush over his teeth.

  Just his luck, after all these years of playing the field, to be stopped dead in his tracks by a woman who’d been emotionally gutted by a low-life husband with an eye for high school students. After Ciera had ignored or seemed unaware of his advances, he’d done a background check more personal than the county would have completed before hiring her.

  Mason worked on trimming his mustache and beard as the image of Ciera’s blue eyes stared back at him from the mirror. During his research, he’d found a newspaper picture of her entering a courthouse, four states away. She walked beside her husband at the time and bore the look of twenty kinds of pain on her delicate face. A shadow of the person she was now. The muck and mire her ex-husband dragged her through had toughened her to a degree, yet left her delicate.

  Since then, Mason had treated her carefully, waiting for her healing. It was coming in stages. He only hoped he’d have the tenacity to wait. After their kiss today, he wasn’t sure he could.

  He pulled on a pair of flannel sleep pants and lumbered to the bed, his mind returning to the scene of the crime today. Brutal crimes against women always unsettled him—made him want to drawl those few he loved close to his chest and envelope them with protection.

  Just to ease his mind, he speed dialed his sister and spoke to Eva Marie for a few minutes and laughed at the chaos in the background. How she kept her sanity, he hadn’t a clue. Three kids under the age of eight would wear him out. Even so, he had to hear each one’s voice and ask how the older two were doing in school. He loved them fiercely and he needed to know they were safe. Besides, with their father serving in the Middle East, Mason had taken over some of the paternal duties.

  He stretched across the bed and scrolled through his listings until he came to Ciera’s number. When he was teaching her how to shoot, there were times he was running late getting to the range and had to contact her. He’d kept her number.

  “Hello?” There was fumbling for the phone as it thunked against something. “Oh shit! Hold on,” she yelled. “I dropped the phone. My hands are covered in bubbles.” There were indistinct sounds in the background. “Okay, I’m back.”

  “Are you doing dishes?”

  “No. I finished my nightly yoga routine earlier and I’m taking a nice relaxing bath. Or it was relaxing until you called.”

  He’d ignore that jab. Anything just to hear her voice. “Is that how you keep so fit? Yoga?”

  “I hit the gym down on Madison Street once or twice a week and put on the gloves.”

  “Wait. Boxing?” She didn’t seem strong enough for that. He’d always looked on her as delicate.

  “Don’t sound so shocked. I’m hell with my fists, detective.” Water ran. “Sorry, my bath is getting cold.”

  “Do you do the whole bubble bath routine with candles and wine? My sister does. She says it’s all that keeps her sane.”

  Water sloshed in the background. He tried hard not to imagine her washing parts of her sweet compact body. His cock, however, was in full-blown fantasy mode.

  “Why does she have trouble staying sane? Because she has you for a brother?”

  “See how you hurt me?” He grinned. “She’s got three kids and her husband’s serving overseas.”

  “Wow, she does carry a heavy load. How long has her husband been gone?”

  “Five months on this deployment. I’m just glad to see she didn’t get pregnant on his last leave. Three youngsters are about all she can handle and still write.” He shoved his feet under the covers and pulled them up to his waist.

  “What kind of writing does she do?”

  “Romance. Best damn romance writer there is.” There was pride in his voice and he didn’t give a rat’s ass. His sister amazed him with all she could accomplish. “She writes under the name of Eva Mason. Her first name and mine.”

  There was a small gasp. “You’re right. She is good. I love her Regencies. I’ve read most of her books. Now I know who she models her rakes after.”

  He’d ignore that jab, too, although he smiled at her gutsy demeanor. Few had the nerve to speak to him the way she did. Frankly, he liked it coming from her.

  “Not to change the subject, but why are you calling me? We agreed to keep our relationship strictly business.”

  “You agreed. I didn’t. But I’ll behave as best I can, plus you’ve got me figured all wrong, baby. I just wanted to check on all my girls to make sure they’re okay. I just got off the phone with Eva Marie and her three kids. Now I’m checking up on you before I slip into a coma.” He yawned.

  “Did you just get home?” There was more water movement and splashing in the background.

  “Long enough ago to eat a sandwich I picked up somewhere. Mystery meat jammed between two pieces of day-old bread washed down with a beer. I did a short work-out and then took a hot shower to wash off the effects of the day.”

  “Gee, you do put in long hours. No wonder you sound so tired.”

  “Murder investigation is brutal. Officers try to turn off their emotions, but that doesn’t always work. The dead woman was only nineteen, Ciera. Her name was Bethany. She’d been beaten and cut with a knife before she was raped, according to the Medical Examiner.”

  “Oh, Mason. How awful! For a life to end so violently.”

  God it felt good to have someone to share his impressions of the day with. A person who would sympathize. Ciera was that kind of woman—caring, compassionate, considerate. “Going into Bethany’s home and telling her parents was rough. There were pictures everywhere of her as a baby, a child, and teenager. She’d been loved and doted on. Her parents will never be the same again.” He exhaled a jagged breath. “I’m going to get that motherfucker, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “I have every confidence in you, Mason. You’re good at your job. I think it’s because you care about people.” Water sloshed. “Even if you pretend you don’t.”

  He hadn’t expected praise from her or the warmth that spread through his system at her words. “Your doors are locked?”

  “Yes, daddy, my doors are locked. And my windows, too.” There was a tone of humor in her voice.

  “Where’s the revolver you’re lice
nsed to carry?” He’d seen to it that she was a damn fine shot and encouraged her to get her permit to carry. After all, she was a woman living alone. The world was a crazy place full of sick people.

  “Under the pillow of the side of the bed I don’t sleep on.”

  “Loaded and safety on? It says so in the rule books.”

  “Look, I know how to handle a gun. I had a very good teacher.”

  He smiled before he yawned again. “Yes, you did. Do you have a dog?” Another yawn stretched his mouth and he rolled over into his sleeping position.

  “No, but I’ve got a cuddle cat, Gabby. She can handle being alone while I work twelve-hour shifts. A dog couldn’t. Besides, I have a dog who calls me late at night when I’m naked, shaving my legs.”

  His cock stood at attention at the word “naked” and twitched at the vision of her shaving those legs she kept encased in tight jeans. “I suppose I should let you finish your bath. Although I’d be willing to get out of bed and come over to rub lotion on those pretty legs of yours.”

  She laughed. “How about you just stay where you are and dream about doing that.”

  “Oh baby, when I dream of you, I dream of doing much, much more.”

  “Pervert.” She hung up on him.

  He laughed and set the phone on the charger. Then he remembered he’d never hinted about her getting any flowers while he was out this afternoon. She had an opinion of him that was all wrong. He was determined to set her straight. And he wasn’t above doing a little or a lot of romancing to do it. After all she’d been through, she deserved whatever tenderness he could bring her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ciera’s feelings about Mason were fuzzy and round like a tennis ball—a bouncing tennis ball. At times he made her uneasy with his male dominance. At others, he pissed her off with the arrogance of his male dominance. Then there were times that same male dominance made her want things she feared—like devotion and faithfulness and forever, because she knew those things didn’t really exist. Not for her. She didn’t have what it took to inspire those emotions in a man.

  She slipped under her covers, thankful for Gabby who slipped beneath the blankets to lie against her back and purr her snuggle song. The nights in the lake area of New York were colder than she was used to in North Carolina and she appreciated the cat’s warmth. Ciera tried not to think any more about the man who made her nervous, angry, and needy.

  She ought to curse his fine behind for making her feel anything at all. Although it was nice of him to call and check on her to make sure she was safe. She’d have to give him brownie points for that. Maybe to show her appreciation, she’d take him a few slices of the pumpkin roll she’d made this evening. Cooking and baking were her panacea after an emotional day. Mason’s kisses had certainly frayed her nerves. Lord, the needs he’d awakened. Needs she’d fought so hard to forget she had.

  When she’d all but run out of his office earlier today, she did so on rubbery legs. She’d melted onto her office chair and forked her fingers into her curls, trying to find her calm place.

  “Another headache, Ciera?” Darla cracked her gum which was no freaking help.

  Ciera nodded and reached for more pills. By now her coffee had chilled so she strode to the coffeepot to top it off with hot java. Her gaze rose to lock on Mason’s as he spoke on the phone. He smiled a slow sexy smile at her. In response, she overflowed her coffee mug, cursed, and grabbed at the stack of napkins to wipe it up. Damn the man!

  Yet here she lay in bed after his late night call, wishing he’d stay away from her and thinking of taking him a few slices of her homemade pastry. If that wasn’t confusion, she didn’t know what was.

  A cold rain fell as Ciera dashed from her car into the station the next day. Her shift ran from seven in the morning until seven at night. For someone whose only family was a chubby orange and white cat, the hours were ideal. She was more homebody than party girl so she loved her life just the way it was. Honest.

  She shook the rain from her coat and umbrella like a dog once she set foot in the station. Pete Terrel, the officer on duty at the desk laughed at her. “You look like a pup shaking off water, Ciera.”

  She slipped her hand in the bag of goodies she’d brought along. “And you look like a man who could use a slice of pumpkin roll to go with his coffee.” She handed him a small paper plate covered with plastic wrap and a disposable fork taped to the top. “Now, tell me what kind of dog I am.”

  Pete licked his lips. “Aw, honey, you’re the sweetest kind. Thanks for thinking of me this gray, dreary morning.”

  She patted his hand and hurried back the hallway to the Human Resources office. Ciera didn’t have a large circle of friends, just those at work. After all that had happened in her past, she tended to keep to herself the hours she wasn’t at work. But she did care for many people on the job. Popping her head in the open doorway, she saw the manager checking her lipstick in a mirror. “Hey, Aleesha. How’s life?”

  Aleesha smiled and motioned her in, sticking her mirror in a drawer. Her office had an overhead display of silver garland, snowflakes, and pink bulbs. A large pink poinsettia sat on her desk.

  “I’m fine, girlfriend. How are things for you? I see where you offered to cover the last four hours of Juanita’s shift on Friday. She dropped off the shift change request slip yesterday.”

  “Yeah, her son’s getting home from a year in Afghanistan. Juanita and her hubs want to meet him at JFK airport. She’s been beside herself to see Franco.” Ciera shoved her hand in her bag and rattled the sides. “I brought you something.”

  “You did?” Aleesha’s eyes widened when she saw the slice of pumpkin roll Ciera removed.

  “Now I know you’re on a diet, so I made this slice special. I removed all the calories. Took some doing though, but I think I managed.”

  Aleesha laughed. “I don’t give a damn if you managed, or not. I love this stuff, especially the cream cheese filling. Thanks, darlin’. You’re too good to all of us.”

  Ciera glanced at her watch. “Yikes I’ve only got five minutes to get to my work station. I better get my ass in gear. Have a great day.”

  “You, too, doll.”

  She took the stairs as quickly as she could, trying her best not to damage the remainder of her coffee break treats in her bag. She rounded the corner just as Darla squealed, wrapped her arms around Mason’s neck, and laid a major lip-lock on him. He clamped his hands to her waist.

  Ciera’s stomach did a nosedive. Her gaze swept to Juanita, who was slipping into her coat now that Ciera had arrived to replace her. “What’s all that about?” Ciera whispered as she tipped her head toward the kissing duo.

  “The flowers Ms. T-and-A got yesterday? She just found out Detective Holt is the mysterious blank card.” Juanita used air quotes around the phrase “blank card” and rolled her eyes. She stepped closer to Ciera. “I keep hoping he’ll come to his senses and go for you.” She gave Darla the stink eye. “You make a dozen of her. Hell, two dozen. Well, I’ve got a bed calling my name. I’m outta here.” She trudged off.

  Ciera removed her coat and placed it and her umbrella in the locker, slamming the door shut to announce her presence. Mason jumped back and wiped a hand over his mouth. “Ciera! Hi!”

  She had no idea his voice could reach such a high octave. Must come from getting his fingers—or his balls—caught in the cookie jar. “Good morning, everyone. Don’t let me stop you. Go right on with what you were doing. Unless you want to take the heat level up another notch, or two. If so, for the sake of my stomach, move the seduction into Detective Holt’s office.”

  She’d been so concerned about sending out mixed signals by giving him a few slices of pumpkin roll and here he was calling her at night and kissing Darla by day. The man was an expert at playing all the women. Time for her to show him she had his number and it was someplace between the heel of her cute red boot and the pile of dog shit she’s accidently stepped into this morning. The bastard!

&nbs
p; “Mason is my blank card, Ciera! Didn’t I tell you yesterday after that beautiful holiday arrangement arrived that I bet he was the one who’d sent it? I was right!” Darla and her double-D boobs practically bounced with excitement.

  “Yes, he certainly fits the profile of a blank card.” She reached into her goodie bag and extracted the plate of three slices she’d made especially for blank-card-bastard. “Here, these are for you. Enjoy them with your coffee this morning.” His mouth open and closed. She extended a hand in a stop gesture. “No need to thank me. Really. No need to talk to me, at all.”

  “Ciera, don’t be like this.” He glanced at the pumpkin roll slices decorated with an extra sprinkling of icing sugar. His expression was pained. “I can explain.”

  Men were always good at coming up with excuses. Seth had when the police first came to the house to question him regarding some students’ complaints. Later, when they’d found child pornography on his computer, he assured her once more he could explain. She was so done with men who behaved badly and then offered their contrived excuses, as if they would erase everything. Since she worked close to the man in front of her, she’d have to be somewhat polite. But, dammit, she didn’t have to be gullible.

  She handed a covered plate to Darla. “This one’s for you.” May every freaking calorie go to your ass.

  The last plate with one slice was for her. She removed it from the bag, thought better of it since her appetite was gone, and marched for the door. “I’ll be right back. This is for Officer Patrick.”

  “Ohhh, you go, Ciera. Joey Patrick is hot. Of course not as hot as my Mason.”

  Yeah, you can keep your Mason and I’ll trash any feelings I might harbor for him because he’d shred my heart just like Seth.

  She rounded the corner and nearly barreled into the janitor mopping the floor. “Here you go.” She held the plate in front of him. “You look like you could use a taste of something sweet.” He accepted with a shocked smile. She patted his shoulder and charged for the restroom. Two minutes of crying were required before she returned to her work station.