of all the men she’d met in months, did she find the detective so yummy? It was all wrong, and she’d do herself a big darn favor by forgetting about it. She had enough on her plate with her job, and now helping with the case. It was stupid to think of hooking up with Bax.
Stupid and addictive.
No, no. Mustn’t linger in the land of make-believe. Focus on the work. On the great puzzle to be solved. Yes. The sooner they had the killer in custody, the sooner Detective Milligan would be…well, he’d be something. To find out what, she had to solve the crime. Fast.
“WHAT’S THE GOOD WORD?” Bax asked, fully prepared to hear nothing but bad words from Grunwald, who’d been dutifully following the chain of evidence as Bax was busy being jerked around by celebrities.
“We found some fibers, but nothing that’s going to point to a killer. I’m still waiting on the official autopsy results but we know there wasn’t a fight. Whoever did it came from behind. No defensive wounds.”
“So we still don’t know if it was a man or woman who killed him?”
“We’ll know more once we get more results. I hear from the captain this one’s going to hit the lab fast. What about you? Anyone looking good?”
“Everyone looks good. Too many fish in this barrel. I need to find out about the finances of the picture. How much the actors are getting paid. What kind of arrangements they have with Weinberg. I’m hearing noises that the film company is in trouble, too. So dig up what you can.”
“Yeah, well, Miguel came back and he’s assigned to the desk, so guess what he’s gonna be doing?”
Bax laughed, knowing Miguel hated desk duty worse than anybody. “That’ll teach him to wash his car.”
“Good luck with those movie stars,” Grunwald said.
“Yeah. I’ll check in with you later.” Bax disconnected and put his cell on his belt, wishing he could go back down to that nice little office in the basement of the hotel. He’d lock the door, turn off his phone and sleep until it was time to leave New York.
There was only one thing he’d miss, and it wasn’t finding Geiger’s killer.
An air horn went off down the street, signaling that the director had yelled cut. Most of today’s scenes were being shot in the Hush garage, but they were also blocking part of East 41st Street, which was causing havoc with traffic.
He knew that the city made a fortune from these movie shoots, and that’s why they were so willing to inconvenience the denizens of midtown, but man, what a mess.
Bobbi Tamony had blown him off twice, and that was going to stop right now. He didn’t give a shit about her schedule or her temperament. He’d had it with these prima donnas.
With a curse, he pushed himself off the side of the building. It was just past noon, and if the first assistant director was to be believed, the filming would stop for lunch any minute.
“Bax!”
He turned at the sound of Mia’s voice. All of a sudden he wasn’t so tired. There she was, coming out of the big glass door, rushing toward him in her black tux. The smile on her face put one on his.
“Are you swamped?” she asked.
“No.”
“Really? You have some time?” She looked past him, to the big barricades holding back the pedestrians, the off-duty beat cops making an extra dime. Past them were trailers and equipment and a bunch of crew people scurrying to and fro as if they were doing something important.
“I’m all yours,” he said.
She flushed enough for him to catch it on her cheeks. “Great. Where can we go that’s private?”
He thought about taking her down to the office he’d been given, but he wanted her away from Hush. If he could have, he’d take her far away, say, the Cloisters or at least Central Park. Then it hit him. “Come with me.”
She walked along beside him, and the urge to take her hand was strong. Really strong. But he was on the clock and so was she. Hadn’t he just lectured himself about this very thing?
“Where are we going?”
“I think I have somewhere nice and quiet and private,” he said. “I have to check, though.”
They walked past the barricade into the heart of the location. It wasn’t difficult to find the AD. She was standing in the middle of the street, papers in one hand, a walkie-talkie in the other.
He touched Mia’s arm. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded as she stared at all the equipment and chairs and the thrum of activity.
The business w to work out, at least for the next hour. He didn’t want anyoneith the AD took only a few minutes. Then he was back at Mia’s side. “Come on,” he said, pleased that things were going from the film company or Hush knowing he was using Mia as his go-between.
He led her to the garage, to the row of trailers and motor homes. When he got to the fourth huge motor home, the only one without a name plate, he opened the door and waited for Mia to climb the four steps.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s what movie stars use instead of port-a-potties.”
She whistled as she got a load of the five-star accommodations. It wasn’t exactly like Danny Austen’s, but it was close.
“This is like a suite at the hotel,” she said, running her hand over the top of the white leather armchair. “Are you sure it’s okay that we’re here?”
“No one’s using this one, at least for today. I checked.”
She looked at him with a hint of wicked in her big dark eyes. “So no one’s gonna come knocking?”
He shook his head.
Mia approached him slowly, her fingertips trailing over the table. “I’ve got a whole hour until I have to get back to work.”
She was tiny next to him. His hands could fit around her waist. The top of her head didn’t even come up to his chin and she smelled like a soft, sweet flower. But the look in her eyes was bold as brass.
Wanting her swamped him, made him lift his hand to pull her close. To kiss her would ease the ache that had been there since they’d met. It would let him sleep again. But in his dreams, he hadn’t stopped at a kiss.
Bax forced himself to take a step back. To make it really clear that this was business and nothing more. It didn’t matter that she wanted it. That he wanted it.
Man, his job sucked.
6
OKAY, SO SHE’D MISJUDGED the situation. It happened. No big deal, right?
Turning away from Bax, who’d done everything but send up a flare to let her know that he wasn’t interested in anything
