fence, she sighed. “Much as I hate to suggest this, we should probably finish our chat inside, where no one can come crashing through a hedgerow on a stolen bike. Can you imagine the headline? My editor would have the exclusive she’s been longing for, followed by book and screenplay rights. All things good in her world.”
Marlowe picked up her bags as she started for the stoop. “She’s not a friend?”
“Oh, Elaine and I are friendly enough, but longings are longings, after all.”
“You don’t sound bitter.”
“Bitterness is a destructive emotion. I prefer being positive.”
“And you can find a shred of that here?”
She tossed a smile over her shoulder. “Of course I can. Three years, a name change and one late-night attack later, I’m still alive.”
HE DIDN’T WANT TO step inside her home. Didn’t want to know her, or anything more about her than was absolutely necessary. Simpler, smarter, easier to keep her at arm’s length and think of her in two dimensions rather than three.
Unfortunately, it was too late for that, and the anger crawling in his belly wasn’t the kind he could push away. He deposited her bags next to the door, then followed her down a wide corridor to the kitchen.
Shadows hung everywhere in the old house. They spilled over the upstairs railing and slashed through the carved wood of the banister, lengthened on the hardwood floors and darkened cream walls.
In the kitchen, she switched on the overhead light. “Here’s the deal. You tell me what I deserve to know, and you can have a beer.”
Unexpected amusement rippled through him. “I’ve given you the meat, Darcy, all true and more or less verifiable. Lugo called, said he’d been referred to me by a former client. The client vouched for him. Money was good, man came up clean, I took the case.”
She headed for the fridge. “Tell me, were you this gullible as a cop?”
He gave a humorless laugh. “Goes hand in hand with cynical, insensitive and don’t give a rat’s ass about other people.”
“Sounds like burnout to me.”
“Any way you look at it, I screwed up, and you’re paying the price. You get killed, it’ll be on my conscience.”
“Well, hey, don’t sugarcoat the possibilities.”
“Do you want them sugarcoated?”
“What I want,” she replied, “is Umer Lugo’s phone number. I want to know who hired him. Because while I’m ninety-five percent sure one of Frankie Maco’s family members is behind this, I’ve done other stories about a few other people who might not like some of the things I’ve said.” She waved her hand. “A lot of stories, actually. Anyway, my point is that knowledge is the key, and the key in this case is one Umer Lugo.”
The beer she tossed him was ice-cold and medium dark.
Marlowe let his gaze travel over her body. Shouldn’t, but it wasn’t as if he’d walked in unprepared.
She was pretty, all right. Beautiful, if you liked moonlight blondes with mile-long legs, sultry blue eyes and a killer smile. Her hair was straight, shoulder-length and made him think of silk. The edgy razor cut suited her. It was also the only noticeable change she’d made to her appearance since leaving L.A. three years ago.
“And now, he looks.” She pushed off gracefully from the fridge. “Don’t worry, Marlowe, I’m not going to seduce you. I only pull out the Mata Hari card when there’s a chance it’ll work. Guys who claim not to give a rat’s ass about people aren’t likely to succumb.”
“You like positive, I like simple. Just so we’re clear.”
“As Mississippi mud. Now, about Lugo.”
He twisted off the top, drank deeply. “He said he’d be staying in the city until you got back. That might or might not be true.” Lowering the bottle, he asked, “Do you have a laptop?”
“You dropped it by the front door.” She uncapped a bottle of orange juice. “Why would he hang around?” she mused. Then she considered. “How old is he?”
“Fifty-eight.”
“Muscular and tall?”
“Five-six and stocky with a hump on his back.”
“Charming. Do you have the name of his hotel?”
“Give me five minutes on your computer and I will.”
She started toward him, dangerous in a way only a man on the edge would understand. “And then?”
Because he knew what she was thinking, he used the beer to cover a burgeoning smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, Darcy, but I’ve dealt with reporters before. I go in alone, you follow me. So we’ll save time and do this together.”
Setting her tongue on her upper lip, she tipped her head to the side, strolled closer and assessed him from top to bottom. “You’re a man of mystery and surprise, Marlowe. I foresee all kinds of problems between us.”
“I see them here and now.”
Humor sparkled in her eyes. “You can drop the guard. I told you I wouldn’t play the seduction card, and I meant it.”
Was he on guard? Maybe. Probably. Didn’t mean he had to ditch a rather intriguing situation. He just had to make sure he didn’t get tangled up in it.
Taking another drink, he let his gaze slide over her face. “I’m not afraid of you.”
The sparkle blossomed into a smile. “Oh, I believe that. Your kind isn’t afraid of any woman.”
“I’m a kind?”
“Very much so. You’re immovable, inscrutable, emotionally distant, and if I were a female rat, I wouldn’t even consider exposing my ass to you. Unfortunately, you’re also hot and sexy, and I’m going to guess chock-full of bad-boy vices. Makes you irresistible to a female like me. Therefore—” letting a sly look steal across her face, she hooked her finger around the front of his T-shirt and gave a tug “—my feeling is, we should get this out of the way now, before we move on.”
A thread of amusement, mostly dark, wove through his system. “I’m not a gentleman, Darcy.”
“Well, I’m shocked.”
Eyes glittering, he let the darkness have its way, set the bottle down and trapped her jaw between the fingers and thumb of his right hand.
“Lady, this is one mistake I’m going to enjoy.” Leaving no time for second thoughts, he covered her mouth with his.
HE TASTED LIKE SOMETHING forbidden, something she should run from and not look back.
He went in deep, and he savored. He made light and color shimmer to life in her head. When he finally stepped back, it took several long moments for the drumbeat
