Blue frowned. "It must be a lab error," he said. "Gerry was corked that night."
"Was he?" Lucy asked, turning to face him. "Or was he only trying to make you think he was? Did you actually smell alcohol on his breath?"
Blue was silent, trying to remember. "I don't know," he finally admitted.
"I was thinking about that whole incident," Lucy said, leaning back against the sink, "and it occurred to me—I've never asked what Gerry whispered to you before you left the country club. Do you remember?"
Blue nodded, the muscle working in his jaw. "He said, ‘I’m sorry, but you have to leave town.' You know, I thought he was referring to Jenny Lee—that he didn't want me around stirring up the past during his wedding. But now..."
"What if he knew something bad was going to happen?" Lucy asked. "What if he staged that whole drunk scene because it was the only way he could communicate with you?"
Blue stared down at the ice pack on his leg. "That was one hell of a way to communicate," he said. "Why wouldn't he just pull me aside and talk to me?"
"Maybe he couldn't," Lucy said, excitement tingeing her voice. "Maybe he knew he was in danger. Maybe he knew someone was going to kill him."
"Why wouldn't he tell me about it?" Blue asked, looking back up at her, his frustration vibrating in his own voice. "I could've helped him. I could've kept him safe."
Lucy shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "But the first thing I've got to do is talk to some of the people who were at that party—people who interacted with Gerry. And I'll have the lab double-check the results of the autopsy blood test. I want to find out for sure if Gerry was sober that night."
She picked up her raincoat from where she'd thrown it over the back of a chair. "I'm going down to the station right now," she said. "Will you be all right alone?"
He smiled. "I'll be fine."
Lucy started for the door, but then turned back. "My bathroom has a Jacuzzi in it," she said. "Maybe it would help your leg to sit in it for a while."
Blue shook his head. "That's all right. I don't want to invade your personal space—"
"Please," she said. "Use it. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Chapter 10
Sheldon Bradley sat behind his big, oak desk and stared at Lucy. "That's ridiculous," the police chief said. "Whether or not Gerry McCoy was drunk at a party has nothing to do with the events that transpired nearly three hours later— events that led to his death."
"I think it does," she said, stubbornly holding her ground. "I intend to talk to the people who were there-people who spoke to Gerry before his outburst. R. W. Fisher had a long conversation with Gerry-—"
"No," Bradley said, rising to his feet. "Absolutely not. This has gone too far. I'm taking you off this case. In fact, I'm temporarily suspending you from the force."
Shocked, Lucy stood up, too. "What?"
"I've had word of your inappropriate behavior concerning Blue McCoy," the chief said. "Clearly, your judgment is skewed."
He sat down again, opening a file—her personnel file, Lucy realized. "Sir, I have done nothing that could be considered inappropriate."
Bradley looked up at her, eyebrows raised. "Do you deny then that the chief suspect in this case is sharing your house with you? And before you perjure yourself, darlin', be warned that neighbors have seen McCoy come home with you at night and leave with you in the morning."
"He needed a place to stay!"
"So naturally, you offer him your bed?"
"I did no such thing—"
"Officially, the charge would be sexual misconduct," Bradley told her, "and the punishment would be dismissal, not mere suspension. But you're young and you're new, and I give everyone here one mistake. This one is certainly yours."
"But, sir—"
"I suggest you keep your mouth closed, Ms. Tait," Bradley said, "because I am going to say this only once, and this matter is not negotiable. I'm suspending you for at least one week, your return subject to my approval. You'll turn in your badge and your sidearm." He held up his hand. "However, I'll record the suspension in your permanent file as an unpaid vacation. There'll be no further questions asked, no more talk about this matter and no ugly blot on your record. Unless, of course, you raise a racket about it."
Lucy shook her head. She felt numb. "But I did nothing wrong."
"I'm not asking you for a signed confession," he said. "Like I said, as of this moment, there will be no more questions asked—"
"Yet I'm suspended."
"Yes, you are."
"Because you think I had sex with Blue McCoy."
Bradley winced at her lack of delicacy. "I don't wish to discuss the details—"
"But I'm telling you that I didn't."
"Other individuals have expressed their concerns and suspicions, fearing that you have allowed yourself to.. .shall we say, fall under the suspect's...influence." Bradley closed her file. "I have no desire to attempt to judge exactly who is right or wrong in this matter—"
"But you are," Lucy said. "By suspending me, you're finding me guilty of something that I did not do."
"Are you telling me that your opinions about this case are one hundred percent impartial?"
Lucy couldn't answer that, and she knew her silence damned her.
Bradley leaned forward. "Do yourself a favor, Lucy,” he said. "Take a vacation. Leave town for a few days—at least until this mess is over."
"I can't do that," Lucy said. She was so angry her voice shook.
"Don't make this worse than it has to be," Bradley said. "Don't make me have to fire you."
"If you're charging me with sexual misconduct, I want to be officially charged."
"If I charge you," Bradley said tightly, "the penalty will not be suspension. As I said, you will be removed from the force."
"If I'm found guilty," Lucy said.
Bradley had had enough. "Fine," he said. "I find you guilty. Hearing closed. You're fired, darlin'." He tossed her personnel file into the garbage can. “Leave your badge and your gun on my desk and get the hell out of my office."
"If that's your idea of a fair hearing, then I don't want to work for you. You can't fire me—I quit!"
She nearly threw her badge and her gun down onto Bradley's desk.
"I'll pass along your reports on the investigation to Travis Southeby," the chief said.
Travis Southeby? "You're letting Travis take over the investigation?" Lucy was aghast.
Travis Southeby, whose brother Jedd had been among the group of men who'd attacked Blue just this afternoon. Travis Southeby, who'd stood up in the Grill because he didn't want to eat dinner in the same room as Gerry's "killer."
Travis Southeby? Impartial investigator?
Not even close.
Frustration and anger bubbled inside Lucy, and she left Chief Bradley's office, slamming the door behind her.
Blue closed his eyes, leaning back in the tub and letting the water gently massage his aching leg.
When Lucy had first told him about the Jacuzzi in her tub, he'd imagined it was one of those little tiny ones. Instead, it was a great big hot tub with room enough to throw a party.
He tried to imagine Lucy serving champagne and wine as she and a bunch of her friends sat laughing and talking in this tub. But he couldn't picture it. It seemed too out of character. He tried to imagine her sitting in this tub with the man in that photo on her dresser, having a very, very private party. That picture came far too easily, and he shook his head, trying to clear his mind of that image. He didn't want to picture that.
He tried to imagine her, instead, coming back from the police station. He could picture her clearly, dressed in those sinfully snug-fitting blue jeans and those black cowboy boots, black tank top clinging to her curves, her shining hair loose around her shoulders. She'd lean in the doorway for a moment, watching him with the temperature in her dark-brown eyes soaring way past that of the hot tub. Then she'd straighten up and pull her shirt up and over
her head and—Blue opened his eyes at the sound of the kitchen door opening. Lucy was back. He heard her toss her keys down onto the kitchen table. The refrigerator door opened.
"Blue, you want a beer?" he heard her call out.
He didn't have to think about it. "Yeah. Thanks." Damn, he would have accepted an offer of hemlock if it meant she'd bring it up here to him.
He heard the thump of the refrigerator door as she closed it. A drawer opened in the kitchen and she fished around, looking for something. Then he heard the sound of bottle caps being removed, a thud as she put what had to be a bottle opener down on the table and two smaller thuds as she tossed the caps into the trash.
Then he heard her climbing up the stairs. Mercy, just the thought of Lucy walking in here had made him hard as rock. He forced himself to keep breathing, to relax. She was bringing him a beer. Nothing more. But maybe if he wasn't shooting pheromones into the air, if he could look as if he didn't want to gobble her up, maybe than she'd sit down and talk to him awhile.
That was really what he wanted. True, he'd give damn near anything to have sex with this woman, but he wouldn't risk scaring her away. Because he needed her company tonight—her smile, the sound of her husky laughter, the warmth of her eyes and maybe most important her patient and unswerving belief in him. He needed all that more than he needed sexual relief.
And then she was standing in the doorway.
Blue could sense her tension. He picked up her undercurrent of anger and frustration before she even spoke.
"I hope American beer is okay," she said, handing him the dark-brown bottle. She turned to pull the shade down on the window. "It was on sale and—"
"It's fine," he said. Her hands were shaking and her voice was unnaturally tight. But she was working so hard to hide it from him, he wasn't sure if he should ask her what was wrong. "How'd it go in town?" he asked instead, keeping the question neutral, his voice light.
"Well, it went," she said, taking a long pull of her beer. "It went straight to hell in a handbasket." She turned and gazed directly into his eyes. "Mind if I climb in there with you?"
Blue's heart stopped. And then it jump-started in double time. "No," he somehow managed to say.
Lucy leaned against the sink to pull off her boots and socks. She tossed them into the bedroom, then unzipped her pants.
As Blue watched, she wriggled out of her blue jeans. Her legs were longer and even more shapely than he remembered. Her panties were bright white against her tanned skin. Mercy. He was going to die.
She didn't look at him as she peeled her shirt up and over her head and threw it down on top of her jeans. Her bra was also white, and she unfastened the front clasp as if she casually stripped naked in front of a man every day of her life.
Her breasts were beautiful, so full and firm, with dark-brown tips that tightened under his gaze. Her body was exactly as he'd imagined it. She was slender, yet she had some real muscle in her arms and legs and torso, giving her body shape and definition. Her stomach was flat, her hips curving softly out.
He was going to explode, Blue realized. Out of all the ways he'd imagined that this evening would end, he hadn't considered the possibility that Lucy would throw all her cautions and reserves to the wind and make love to him. He'd fantasized about it, but he never believed it could possibly happen. Just last night she'd locked her door tightly against him. He knew she'd locked it—he'd tried the knob.
So what had happened between then and now? What had happened between now and just a few hours ago, when Lucy had maintained that they stay friends instead of lovers?
Lucy slid her panties down her legs and moved up the steps to the top edge of the hot tub. She paused for a moment, looking down at him, boldly meeting his eyes. "You seem to have run out of things to say," she said.
She slid down, letting the water slowly cover her body. She sat, a full half circle away from him. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back against the side of the tub.
"I'm just trying to figure out when I died and went to heaven," Blue said.
Lucy opened her eyes. "You're not in heaven, McCoy— at least not yet."
Blue had to laugh. This was just too much. He couldn't have written a better script for a sexual fantasy himself. "Lucy, I'm confused as hell," he admitted. "What's going on here?"
"I decided I'd come home and seduce you." Her eyes suddenly looked uncertain, vulnerable. Her voice got very soft. "Am I doing it wrong?"
"Oh, no," Blue said quickly. "No, you're doing it perfectly. I just don't understand why you're doing it."
"I was suspended from the police force," she said in that same low voice. "For sexual misconduct."
"But-"
"I had no real hearing and no chance to challenge the charges," she said, her voice growing stronger. There was a spark of anger in her eyes. "Bradley removed me from the investigation and gave me a one-week suspension, disguised as a vacation. I argued—he fired me—I quit."
Blue swore. "This is my fault."
"You didn't do anything wrong," Lucy said. "And I didn't, either. But I figured as long as I've been tried, convicted and I'm serving sentence for breaking a rule I didn't break, well, hell, I might as well break that rule, right?"
Blue didn't know what to do, what to say. She wasn't here because she honestly wanted to be. She was here in some kind of knee-jerk reaction to her altercation with Chief Bradley.
With any other woman, Blue wouldn't have hesitated. With any other woman, he would have already been on the other side of the hot tub, performing a seduction of his own. She'd taken it this far; he could easily see it through to its climax, so to speak.
But... Lucy was his friend. She had been right earlier today. Something had developed between them that could only be called friendship. And as much as Blue wanted her, he didn't want her this way.
So he kept his distance and waited for her to answer her own question.
"But this really isn't me," she finally said. "I mean, I
don't...do things like this. I've never tried to seduce
someone before"
"Yankee, I do believe you're a natural," Blue said with a slow smile.
Lucy laughed, covering her face with her hands. "I'm feeling pretty stupid."
"Don't be," he said. "I'm in serious pain."
"Then why are you sitting way over there?"
Her soft question made the bathroom seem suddenly very, very quiet. Blue could hear his watch ticking from underneath the pile of clean clothes he'd brought into the room. He moistened his dry lips. Damn, he couldn't re member ever being this nervous with a woman before. "Do you want me to sit next to you?" he asked.
Her eyes were wide and a bottomless shade of brown as she gazed at him. "I don't know what I want," she admitted.
Blue took a deep breath, trying to slow his raging pulse, trying to lower his soaring blood pressure. "When you know," he said, "then you let me know."
She was silent, just staring at him. "I can't believe you're turning me down," she said at last.
"I'm not turning you down, because you haven't made me a real offer," Blue said quietly. "You make me an offer, Lucy, and I assure you, I will not turn you down."
There was wonder in her eyes, wonder and the sheen of tears. "You told me you weren't a gentleman," she said.
"I'm not."
Which was why he had to get out of there. Right now. Blue stood, water sheeting off him. He climbed up the stairs and out of the tub, trying not to limp. He could feel Lucy's eyes on him, skimming over his nakedness, and he wrapped his towel around his waist. She couldn't have missed his state of arousal. Even though he'd tried his best to calm his raging libido, he could have sat in the tub forever and still it wouldn't have completely gone away.
"What do you say we go downstairs and I cook us both some dinner?" Blue said. He didn't wait for her to say no. "Throw some clothes on and meet me in the kitchen."
It was nearly ten o'clock before dinner was
over.
Lucy had gone into the kitchen with some trepidation, but Blue did or said nothing to remind her how foolishly she'd behaved up in the bathroom.
He made her set the table and then sit and do nothing but watch as he cooked up a fragrant pot of spaghetti sauce and pasta.
As he cooked, and then as they ate, he told her the story of how his friend and swim buddy, Joe Cat, had met his wife, Veronica. She was a seemingly prim-and-proper media consultant who worked for European royalty. He was a rough, tough Navy SEAL from a bad part of New Jersey. According to Blue, it was love at first sight—only, both Joe Cat and Veronica stubbornly refused to acknowledge it.
"Do you really believe in love at first sight?" Lucy asked Blue as he began washing up the dishes.
"Yeah," he admitted. "I know it sounds corny, but, yeah, I do. I saw it happen with Cat. Something just grabbed him and wouldn't let go. It scared the hell out of me. One day everything was normal, and the next Cat was totally out of control."
Lucy was silent. She understood. She was falling in love with Blue, and it was way, way beyond her control.
"Cat and Veronica both tried to run away from what they felt," Blue said in his slow Southern drawl. "But you can't run away from something that's inside you. I saw that firsthand. Cat was miserable without Veronica."
And Lucy would be miserable without Blue. But why force herself to be miserable with him, too? She could have him—even if only for a few days, even if only on a physical level.
She knew Blue wanted their relationship to be a sexual one. Even though he'd gallantly turned her down up in the hot tub, he'd made that more than clear. She could have his body. All she had to do was ask. It was more than nothing, and it would have to be enough.
Why should she refuse herself even just an hour or two of happiness and pleasure? Yes, Blue was going to leave. No, Blue wasn't in love with her. Yes, she'd probably be just a substitute for Jenny Lee Beaumont. But Lucy didn't have to think about that. She didn't have to make herself miserable. She had the entire rest of her life to do that. She deserved at least a day or two of happiness now, even if it was only false happiness.
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