it again. Carefully, quietly, Tara headed for the back door.
She eased it open and turned sideways to pass through the crack. Then she pulled it gently shut again and felt everything wash out of her until her bones felt like they would bend.
The Rose was gone. She hadn’t gone back to the library to look for it, didn’t have to. She’d heard the commotion of all the cops there. Someone would have picked it up from the floor.
Maybe, eventually, she could buy it back from Stephen’s estate. But for now she didn’t even know for sure where it was. Tara leaned her forehead against the door and fought the urge to cry.
Sometimes, Fox thought, taking things slowly really paid dividends. He sat up suddenly and straight to watch her.
The woman was a shadow moving within a shadow. Everything about her was darkness, from the midnight hair that spilled down her back to the leggings and jacket she wore. She used both hands to pull on the knob and shut the door silently. Then she rested her forehead against the wood. The gesture was so edged with defeat that Fox felt an instinctive stir of sympathy.
He frowned as he let his gaze move up over her bulky socks and running shoes. Yards of legs topped them. This, he thought, was a long, tall drink of water. He felt a certain quickening deep inside himself that was pure appreciation and had very little to do with watching this case unfold before his eyes.
His instincts told him that the woman hadn’t seen him yet. After a moment, he knew he was right. She finally left the door and moved quietly to the corner of the property. Fox stood from the bench and followed her. He didn’t make a sound until he was a foot behind her.
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
Tara spun, her heart exploding. She was running before she even finished her turn.
Fox reached up instinctively to catch her and she ran straight into his arms. They stumbled backward together and went down in the snow.
Fox moved fast. He could move quickly when he had to. He caught both her wrists with one hand just as she would have sprung to her feet again. He kept with her until he was on top of her, pinning her to the cold, wet ground.
“Now then,” he drawled. “What’s all this about?”
The woman drew in her breath to scream.
Fox clapped a hand over her mouth. “Stop fighting me. I’m a—” He never finished. Her teeth sank down into the soft pad of skin between his thumb and his forefinger. She’d bitten him! And while his mind grappled with that, she managed to twist out from beneath him.
Under other circumstances, Fox would have admired her agility. As it was, she flew toward the rear of the property and he was damned if he was going to be bested by her no matter how striking her perfect face had seemed in that moment he’d gotten a good look at her. Besides, he had a strong hunch that this was the elusive Tara Cole.
He grabbed for her and his hand came back holding air. She was halfway over a stone wall at the back of the property when he lunged again and caught her hips. He tugged backward and they sprawled again into the snow.
“I’m a police officer!” he shouted.
She was breathing hard, but then she went utterly still. “No, you’re not.”
Fox actually felt his blood pressure rise. “Yes. I am.”
“You said excuse me, when you came up behind me. You said excuse me, ma’am. What kind of cop says excuse me? A real cop would have said something like, hold it right there, you’re under arrest!”
“You’re not under arrest.” He fought a little for his own breath after their struggle. “Yet.”
“Show me your badge.”
He started to do it. But if he let her go long enough to reach for it, she’d be over the wall in a heartbeat and they both knew it. “Nice try. Where’s the ruby?”
“What ruby?”
“The one you lifted from Carmen’s safe after you killed him.”
“I don’t have a ruby. Where do you think I’d hide a ruby?”
Fox angled his head to look down at her. Where indeed? Whatever she was wearing under her jacket wasn’t just leggings as he’d first thought. It was one piece. It clung to every inch of her from neck to ankles. The fabric was like a breath against her skin, no more substantial than that. It was outrageously provocative.
Only in Philadelphia, he thought. Then he caught her scent. Something spicy. Something hot, seductive, teasing. For the space of a moment, Fox found himself reasonably glad that the North had won the war.
“You have the right to remain silent,” he said. “Anything—”
“Oh, swallow it. What are you arresting me for?”
“Assault on a police officer! Grand theft! Murder one!”
“We still haven’t even determined that you’re a cop!”
His grip on her tightened in frustration and she gave a small cry of discomfort. In that moment, Fox realized the full effect she was having on him. She might as well have taken his manners in her teeth instead of his skin. She was crazy.
Fox came to his feet. He pulled her with him. “You have the right—”
“I didn’t know you were a cop when I bit you,” she interrupted. “You never identified yourself. As for the other—”
He was going to get this out if it killed him. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything—”
“I want a lawyer.”
Fox stopped cold.
The headache she’d given him was starting to pump heat behind his eyes. He was ready to drag her back to his car and take her in for questioning but he was thinking with his temper, not his good sense. Hadn’t the woman been haggling with Carmen over twenty-four walloping carats’ worth of Burmese ruby? She’d start hollering for an attorney the minute she crossed the threshold of headquarters, and the money he presumed she had would buy a lot of legal punch.
Fox made a decision. He decided to follow his gut.
In a relaxed atmosphere, with her guard down, he just might get something worth knowing out of her before she hid behind counsel. Something deeper than the obvious was going on here. He kept seeing the way she’d leaned her head against the door when she had closed it. She’d seemed beaten. Overwhelmed.
Not murderous.
If it turned out he was wrong, there was nothing saying he couldn’t bring her in later. Fox tugged on her arm. “Let’s go.”
Fear finally ripped past Tara’s bravado and took off with her pulse, unbridled. “You’re arresting me?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Tell you what. We’ll trade answers. Ladies always go first. What were you doing in Stephen Carmen’s home?”
“Who
