by Jamie Denton
He nodded, then left Lucy to stroll through the office, checking to make sure all the equipment was shut down for the night. When he returned to the outer office area, Lucy was waiting for him. She swung her bag over her shoulder, the contents rattling and slamming around inside.
She waited while he locked up the office, then they walked together toward the elevators that would take them to the parking garage. “Do you want me to get the copier fixed?” she asked, punching the button to the call the elevator car.
“Order a new one. And whatever else is about to take a dump around here. We can’t afford to lose a minute of production time.”
“And how do you think we’re going to pay for these new toys?”
He gave her one of his most charming smiles. She frowned.
“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. He’d cover the additional expense himself.
“You pay me to worry,” she reminded him for the second time that day and stepped into the elevator. “So you wanna tell me what an FBI agent was doing snooping around the office today?”
“Not especially.” He thought about what he and Sunny had been doing in his office earlier that afternoon and grinned.
She gave him a pointed glance. “Exactly what is going on, Duncan? I thought those FBI types gave you hives.”
“You’re exaggerating,” he said. His only itch at the moment was one he had for Sunny.
They reached the fourth floor of the parking garage and he followed Lucy out of the elevator. “Well?” she prompted.
“The Bureau has jurisdiction on Wilder.”
Her gaze held genuine interest. “This sounds interesting.” Code for tell me more.
“Dearborn and Garfield could be connected to Wilder, but that hasn’t been confirmed.” Maybe if he hadn’t been tempted beyond belief to kiss Sunny he would’ve remembered to ask her about the case. “CID is involved, though.”
Lucy remained thoughtful for a moment then shrugged her bulky shoulders. “BFD. NYP.”
He stopped and looked down at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Lost your decoder ring again, didn’t you?” She chuckled. “Big freakin’ deal,” she explained. “Not your problem.”
“It is if I can put a stop to this bastard.”
“Since when is that your problem?” she asked, her tone stern. “You find stolen goods insured for large sums of money. Period. That’s your job. Not taking down bad guys. Not anymore.”
Irritation climbed up his spine and settled in his neck, making the muscles tighten with tension. He rubbed at the spot, but the pressure refused to ebb. She was right, but what bothered him more was that he hadn’t even realized what he’d said until she’d pointed out his mistake.
“Don’t you have small children to torture?” he groused.
“Not at the moment, no. Don’t you lose sight of what’s important. We could operate for a good twelve to eighteen months easy on the recovery fees from Garfield, Dearborn and Wilder alone. I’m not the expert here, but I do know you’ve never had to track down any individual first before you locate the stolen property.”
“Maybe,” he conceded reluctantly, although he refused to state with any degree of certainty that he agreed with Lucy in this instance. So far he hadn’t managed to cull a single lead on Garfield or Dearborn. Only one person knew the whereabouts of the stolen goods, and that was Sunny’s UNSUB. “Or maybe not.”
She opened the car door and swung her purse onto the seat. “If the Feds are involved, don’t think they’ll be welcoming you with open arms,” She reminded him. “You aren’t exactly on their Christmas card list.”
“What they don’t know—”
“They’ll eventually find out.”
Her habit of shooting straight from the hip with brutal honesty was starting to really irritate him. Just once he wished she’d keep her opinions to herself. Especially since they conflicted with his.
Lucy climbed into her car and started the engine. “That little girl agent you were tickling tonsils with today might be blond, but she didn’t look like a dumb blonde to me. What’s she going to say when she finds out?”
“She already knows.” Sort of.
He shrugged off Lucy’s concerns with a dismissing wave as she drove off, but not before she cast one last skeptical glance in his direction. What could the Bureau do to him anyway? He’d already paid their asking price for failing to follow a direct order when they’d stripped him of his credentials, not to mention the bum shoulder and left hand that both ached like hell in damp weather. He had nothing to lose as far as the Bureau was concerned.
Except maybe the chance to have Sunny MacGregor in his bed.
6
SUNNY SMOOTHED a wrinkle from the satin jacquard comforter. A few more fluffs to the matching shams and one final adjustment to the array of lace and satin accent pillows she’d found on sale, and she was finished. Taking several steps backward, she attempted to view the new, less-feminine look of her bed with a man’s perspective in mind. “What do you think? Too froufrou for a guy?”
Georgia folded the large plastic storage bag the comforter set had come in and set it on the padded chintz bench at the foot of the queen-size bed. “This is why you sent me to the courthouse for the SEDSCAM search warrants? So you could sneak off to purchase masculine-sensitive bedding?”
“The cabbage roses were too girly,” Sunny argued. “I couldn’t picture him in all that pink.”
“When exactly were you fantasizing about this guy all tangled up in turquoise satin? Was it before you banned him from the Wilder estate, or did you wait until after you confiscated his files? That part is still a little fuzzy.”
Sunny gave Georgia a wry glance. “Very funny. And the color is muted teal.”
She’d missed lunch, so after leaving Duncan’s office, she’d made a quick stop for a bite to eat at one of her favorite delis and had spied the discount linen store across the street. While she’d been cruising the aisles, she’d received a call from Georgia on her cell phone. The warrants were signed but the clerk was leaving early. Unless they wanted to wait until noon the following day, they’d have to be picked up immediately. Sunny knew she’d never make it across town in time, so Georgia had offered to handle it and bring the warrants by Sunny’s place.
She still couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to get so completely distracted that she hadn’t obtained a single scrap of information from Duncan. Once the issue of his termination from the Bureau had been resolved, she should’ve questioned him about the additional files he’d mentioned, asked him the names of the claimants or, at a minimum, the locations which might help establish a pattern to the UNSUB’s path of seduction. Apparently, the only seduction she’d been interested in involved Duncan.
Georgia sat on the bench and crossed her long legs. “If you’re meeting Duncan at the restaurant, then why go to all this trouble?” she asked, indicating the bed behind her with a hitch of her thumb. “It’s not like he’s going to be seeing the inside of your bedroom anytime soon.”
Sunny tightened the sash of her robe. “I could invite him here afterward,” she said a tad too defensively.
“You?” Georgia shook her head and chuckled softly. “I don’t think so.” Her eyes filled with a wealth of understanding. “When it comes to men, you play it safe.”
Although they’d only been friends for a few short months, Georgia did know her well. As a rule, Sunny did proceed with an abundance of caution when it came to the opposite sex. No wonder her affairs were so few and far between—she practically demanded security clearance.
Except there’d been nothing “safe” about the way she’d kissed Duncan. She’d left little room for doubt in his mind exactly how much she’d wanted him. Short of tearing off his clothes right then and there, she didn’t think she could’ve been more daring.
Or foolish.
She knew what could happen to a woman if she failed to take precautions in regard to her own safety. The co
nsequences could be deadly. Because of their total disregard for their own safety, she also understood she may never be able to relate to The Seducer’s victims.
Just because she never rode in a vehicle with someone she didn’t know didn’t mean she was mistrustful, only sensible. So what if she kept her phone number unlisted and her monthly bills came addressed to S. R. MacGregor? She was careful, not fearful.
When she’d purchased her condo six months ago in the newly built, ten-story complex, she’d chosen a unit on the fourth floor rather than one on the first as a deterrent to would-be intruders. Instead of hiring a locksmith, she’d asked her dad to install extra security locks to her windows and the sliding glass door leading to her balcony. She’d insisted the building manager replace the single lock on the front door with two heavy duty deadbolts and a security bar. Because she wrote a check each month for the additional protection of a home security system which alerted the authorities in the event of an emergency situation didn’t mean she was paranoid, only prudent.
“You wouldn’t know it by my behavior this afternoon,” she admitted to Georgia. “I was a regular shameless hussy.”
“Oh, please,” Georgia laughed. “Hussies went out of fashion two centuries ago. If you’re attracted to a man, there isn’t a damn thing wrong in letting him know it.”
“I’m sure I left no room for doubt in his mind,” she said and walked to the closet. Maybe accepting a date with Duncan pushed the limits of professionalism, but she couldn’t ignore the attraction between them, either. “Help me find something to wear that’ll bring him to his knees. Just to alleviate any lingering confusion he might have.”
Sunny threw open the double doors and stared in dismay at her pathetically dull wardrobe consisting of tan, navy or black skirt and pantsuits in seasonal-friendly fabrics. Wools and heavy polyester blends for fall and winter, cotton and linen for spring and summer. Her selection of tops, blouses and sweaters were equally innocuous. White, ivory, navy and black in either silk, cotton or linen.
Georgia appeared beside her. “Good grief,” she said scanning the contents. “Talk about Bureau Drab.”
Sunny let out a sigh. Not a knee-driving garment to be had. “This is bad, isn’t it?”
“Color,” Georgia said slowly. “Repeat after me. Color.”
“And when was the last time you wore a red suit to work?”
Georgia ignored the rhetorical question and stepped into the walk-in closet. “Your wardrobe is in serious crisis.” She fingered several blouses hanging from the top wardrobe bar. “Next week we’re going shopping, and don’t even think to argue with me. At the very least we’ll pick out a couple of things that aren’t so painfully…”
“Conservative?” Sunny offered hopefully.
“Boring.”
Sunny wrinkled her nose. “I hate shopping.”
“So I gathered,” Georgia said dryly. “All right.” She rubbed her hands together. “Where are you meeting him?”
“Toucan Sam’s in Georgetown. Do you know it?”
Georgia nodded. “Good food. And lucky for you, a casual atmosphere.”
“Thank God for small favors,” Sunny muttered as Georgia started plucking hangers from the wardrobe bar and handing them to Sunny.
Taking her minimal wardrobe choices into account, thirty minutes later Sunny admitted to being pleasantly surprised with the final outcome. Denim was always her favorite choice, and the button-fly carpenter jeans were not only comfortable, but flattering. Georgia had unearthed a sleeveless cream-colored silk shell with a deep scoop neckline that still had the store tags attached, and a wide, black vintage leather belt Sunny had forgotten she’d even owned.
She’d followed her stylist’s instructions on drying her permed hair for maximum volume, and with style-savvy Georgia’s assistance, the tight, springy curls were swept away from her face in soft, gentle waves of artful disarray. In addition to her standard, conservative berry lipstick, she’d added a layer of shimmering gloss, then selected gold chandelier earrings for an even bolder look.
Tossing the tube of lengthening mascara into her makeup drawer, she looked in the mirror and hardly recognized herself. She looked like…a woman who didn’t know the meaning of caution.
Georgia emerged from the closet as Sunny walked back into the bedroom. “These,” Georgia said, holding up a pair of black leather sandals for Sunny’s inspection, “say comfortable, easy to be with, good for a few laughs. Coy, but promising.” She dumped the sandals on the floor and held up a pair of black four-inch heels that had been sitting in the closet for months. “These say sex. Red would scream multiple orgasm, but we don’t have a lot to work with here. Definitely more blatant than subtle, so there’s hope.”
Sunny didn’t hesitate. “We’re way beyond coy,” she said, snatching the pumps from Georgia. She’d initially regretted giving in to the impulse to buy the shoes. They’d been an impractical extravagance, but now she was grateful she had them.
She sat on the edge of the bench and slipped her feet into the shoes. “Since I possessed the subtlety of a bulldozer this afternoon, blatant is the least hypocritical.”
Was her attraction to Duncan a whim? she wondered suddenly. Or were there other factors at work she had yet to determine and categorize? She did question whether becoming involved with him was a good idea, but her concerns were more personal than professional. There were no substantial conflict of interest issues. Even his being a former agent posed no problem professionally since he hadn’t been relieved of duty for cause or illegal activity. The Bureau had strict rules of conduct, and associating with criminals was out of the question.
But what about her heart if their mutual attraction drifted into deeper, more emotional territory? She knew from past experience her job would eventually become an issue. She worked long, sometimes odd hours and was often called away in the middle of the night. Depending on the case she was investigating, she might be required to travel with little or no notice. All of which put strain on a relationship.
Duncan had been an undercover operative so chances were he’d be more understanding than most in that regard, but could he handle the knowledge her life could be on the line? She might be assigned to the nonviolent criminal unit now where the risks were minimal, but how would he react once the danger dramatically increased if she transferred to ISU? Hunting down a sociopath capable of unspeakable horrors was a world away from chasing after a seducing scam artist.
She looked up at Georgia. “What am I doing?”
Her friend propped her shoulder against the doorjamb. “Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”
Anxiety made breathing a concentrated effort. “I only met him this morning, and already I’m wildly attracted to him. Look.” She held up her trembling hand. “What is this?”
Georgia lifted a slim shoulder in a partial shrug. “Adrenaline,” she said. “You’re hyped about seeing him. It’s normal, Mac. It happens.”
Not to her it didn’t. She never rushed into relationships, and had once dated a guy three times before she’d had even a conscious thought about kissing him. With Duncan, she’d been counting the minutes until she could taste him again.
“He’s a world-class kisser, incredibly good-looking, not to mention sexy,” she said, justifying his attributes by ticking them off on her fingers. “Intelligent. His employees are certainly protective of him. A man doesn’t inspire that kind of loyalty in people because he’s a jerk.”
Georgia’s russet eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “And this is a problem?”
Sunny caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I like him, Georgia,” she said quietly. Her heart pounded so hard she feared it would burst right out of her chest. “He’s the kind of guy…”
Understanding instantly lit the other woman’s gaze. “That you could fall for,” she finished wisely.
Sunny lifted her trembling hands in a gesture of self-defeat. “Don’t start. I know what you’re going to say.” She stood, made an adjustment to the wid
e leather belt at her waist and stalked out of the bedroom. If she didn’t leave now, she might chicken out and she hadn’t spent a fortune on a new comforter set, pillows and a luxurious set of Pima cotton sheets because she’d planned to sleep in them alone.
Sunny waited for Georgia to join her in the ceramic-tiled foyer. “You’re going to say, stop being an idiot, Mac,” she said. She snagged her small black hobo bag from the table in the entryway and dug out her keys. “Take a chill pill, girlfriend. It’s a date, not a commitment. Right?”
“Right,” Georgia said.
Sunny gave a brisk nod of agreement. “Relax. Go with the flow.” She turned on the lamp and engaged the alarm.
“Exactly,” Georgia said, opening the door and stepping out into the corridor.
“And don’t get bogged down in all the emotional crap,” Sunny continued to rant as she locked the door. “Have fun for a change. Get loose. Get a grip. Get your money’s worth out of all that…what did you call it?”
“Masculine-sensitive bedding?”
“Right. Put that masculine-sensitive bedding to good use.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Excellent advice, Georgia,” Sunny said when they reached the elevator. Feeling somewhat calmer, she smiled. “I’d have to be a fool not to listen to you.”
“I don’t hand out all my best advice to just anyone, you know. Don’t waste it.”
Together they laughed and stepped into the elevator. By the time they reached the lobby, Sunny’s anxiety was nearly nonexistent. Her excitement over spending an evening with Duncan, however, remained as strong as ever.
WITH THE HEAT index pushing into the triple digits, Glen Specht could think of much more pleasant locations to hole up in than a run-down apartment building on Chicago’s South Side. Other cities where the air was cooler, cleaner and less thick with humidity. More aesthetically pleasing locales like the West Coast. Not a wise choice, considering he was wanted in Washington, Oregon and California. He was also wanted in Idaho, Colorado, Nevada, New Mexico and at least a half-dozen more states, as well.