of Information Act.”
“My relationship with the LAPD is bad enough already. Pushing legalities would only hurt me in the future when I need information for a case. All I want is to see the file. And find the killer,” she added, the most important issue.
“Why do you think you could?”
“It’s a hunch. I’m a good investigator, and I’m not bound by a cop’s rules.”
She could see him thinking it through.
“Was your father involved in a crime?” he asked.
“My father was a thirteen-year veteran of the Los Angeles Police Department. He died in the line of duty.” A situation that still made her both angry and proud. He’d been her knight in shining armor—but he’d been taken from her.
Joe hardly missed a beat. He rested his palms on the counter and leaned toward her, his gaze locked with hers. “Then you know that my father and everyone else at the department did everything they could to find the killer and bring him to justice. Everything.”
She didn’t break eye contact. “And yet they didn’t solve it. Tell me, Joe. If it was your father who had been murdered and justice hadn’t been served, wouldn’t you be doing everything in your power to find the killer?”
He was quiet long enough that she began to hope.
“I can’t help you,” he said at last, pushing away from the counter.
Hope died. “Why not?”
“A hot file like that—a cop whose line-of-duty death was never solved? That would require approval from some brass before I could pull it from Records. Plus, it would look like I was working, which I can’t be, because I’m on vacation.”
“When you get back from vacation, then.”
“I’m off for four weeks starting today. If you can wait that long I’ll give it a try.”
She decided to press. “Would you let me talk to your father?”
“That’s not possible.” He picked up two of the food containers and carried them to the kitchen table.
“Why not?”
“I’ve given you my answer, Arianna. If things were different I would try to help you.”
Her throat burned. He was her only chance of getting a look at the file, short of hiring a lawyer and making an issue out of it, which would totally destroy whatever small amount of credibility she had with the department. Not to mention that she needed the nightmares to end.
She looked blankly at all the food she’d brought. She couldn’t stay there any longer.
Arianna extended her hand. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”
He took her hand then didn’t let go until she met his gaze. Sympathy brought out specks of gold in his green eyes, but he didn’t try to stop her. She was grateful for that.
She kept her emotions in check as she pulled away from the curb. Now what? Where could she go? Not back to her mother’s house. Not to her own apartment, either. Too quiet. To the office, then, where she spent most of her life, anyway.
She had to come up with plan B.
An hour later Joe tossed his inventory log onto the dining room table and headed to the backyard, in need of fresh air. He stalked the grounds, hunting for nonexistent weeds, then sat next to an orange tree and rested his back against the trunk. He plucked a blade of grass, then another. One more.
He didn’t know why he’d expected anything different. Of course Arianna wasn’t interested. He was a cop, LAPD at that—just like her father, a man who had died in the line of duty. And his own father hadn’t found the killer.
That was just the beginning. Her income was probably three times his—or more. She had fit in at Scott’s party, as sophisticated as the rest of his guests. Joe hadn’t, which is why he’d discovered the waterfall in the first place. He had decided he’d made a mistake by going to the party and so had looked for a place to hang out until he could politely leave.
Then Arianna had appeared in the misty, mysterious place like a wish fulfilled, her spicy perfume alerting him to her presence, her sexy body jolting him back to life after a long sleep, her dark eyes entreating him to trust and hope. Was it all a game? She said it wasn’t, that the attraction was real and unplanned and complicated. He would’ve believed her, believed she was honest, if she hadn’t misled him last night. What was the truth?
He’d been lied to before, most recently by his own fiancée. He hadn’t learned to play those games and didn’t know how to spot the players.
Arianna hadn’t shown herself to be any different. She’d walked out as soon as she learned he couldn’t be of any use to her.
So much for trying to get back his life. And a date. It was too bad his interest had been piqued to the degree it had.
“Joe?”
He swung around. Arianna stepped through the side gate and into the yard.
“I didn’t mean to just barge in, but I rang the bell several times. Your car was still out front, so I took a chance you were out here.”
Damn, she was one sexy woman. Curvy, fluid, graceful and…competent.
“No problem,” he said, standing to greet her. Stay this time….
“I apologize for walking out on you,” she said.
He liked her directness and that she looked him in the eye. He even liked that she didn’t offer an excuse. She was in search of the truth. He couldn’t fault her for using whatever method it took to find that truth.
“Forget it,” he said. “Are you hungry? I seem to have some extra food on hand.”
After a moment she smiled. “I’m starving.”
Keep it light, he told himself. “That’s the real reason you came back.”
“Absolutely. The only reason.”
As they moved toward the house, he resisted resting his hand on her lower back as he had the night before, but her perfume whispered to him, urging him closer. He’d already danced with her. Kissed her. Held her against his body. He wanted to sweep her into his arms right now, but she wasn’t a woman who could be rushed. He already knew that about her.
He also knew if he played his cards right, she might stay for dinner.
Arianna appreciated attractive men as much as the next woman—she just didn’t trust them. There were exceptions. Her partners in her firm, Nate Caldwell and Sam Remington, were both attractive and trustworthy. And she sensed that Joe Vicente was a man she could trust. Maybe too much.
She let her gaze wander over him as he stored the leftovers in the otherwise empty refrigerator. He had the body type people called rangy—lean and loose-limbed. He moved slowly and spoke thoughtfully. A deliberate man, she decided. Someone
