Dangerous Liaisons

by Maggie Price

  “No. Someone gave your client an injection that paralyzed his lungs. He basically suffocated to death.”

  “Poor Phillip.” She spoke quietly, feeling the blood drain from her face when a dizzying realization set in. “It wasn’t something in the muffins, then?”

  Jake angled his head. “They’re at our lab for analysis. But, no, the M.E. doesn’t think the muffins had anything to do with Ormiston’s death. Even if they did, the bakery verifies your story. Mel called and placed the order, had the muffins delivered to Ormiston’s office.”

  She nodded slowly. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t inject Phillip with whatever it was that killed him.”

  One corner of Jake’s mouth lifted. “Here’s a tip. Don’t point out things like that to a homicide cop.”

  She gave him a thin smile. “I’m sure you’ve already thought of that.”

  “Everyone’s a potential suspect, until I can prove them innocent. In fact, why don’t you tell me where you were yesterday afternoon so we can get that out of the way?”

  Nicole shifted on the love seat’s cushions. Logically, she understood why Jake had to ask the question. Still, that didn’t stop a little ball of discomfort from wedging in her stomach.

  “I attended a benefit luncheon at the Overholser Mansion,” she began. “After that, I drove downtown and met with my attorney about the prospect of franchising my company.”

  “Met with him until when?”

  “About four. I drove to my decorator’s shop where I spent an hour or so selecting fabric for drapes I’m having done.”

  “Then?”

  “I came back here, worked out at Sebastian’s and drove to Phillip’s house. You know the rest.”

  Jake’s gaze returned to the file in her lap. “I need the names of the women you fixed Ormiston up with.”

  When she hesitated, he added, “I can have a subpoena here within the hour if you have a problem giving me the information.”

  “No.” She slicked her tongue over her lips. “It’s just that I promise my clients privacy. Confidentiality.”

  “You promised that to Ormiston, too. If someone he met through this dating service killed him, they gave up all right to privacy.”

  “Yes.” She stared at the fingers she’d linked together. “It’s my company’s responsibility to make matchmaking a safe process. We do an intensive screen on all of our clients. Conduct background checks. Credit history. Psychological and personality tests. What if we missed something?”

  “They run checks on potential cops, too,” Jake pointed out. “Bad ones sometimes still make it into the academy. When they do, we go after them and toss them out. That’s all you can do.”

  For some inexplicable reason, she found it comforting he’d put that aspect of their careers on the same level. “I’ll have copies of everything run for you,” she said, handing the file across the table. “Mel’s leaving and I have a meeting in an hour. Can I deliver the copies to you this evening?”

  “I’ll be tied up.”

  She tried to ignore an instant flare of disappointment. “You have a date?”

  “Yeah, with a low-life snitch who swears he’ll deliver the witness to a drive-by shooting.” Jake paused, then sent a sideways look at her closed door. “Speaking of Mel, I need the name and address of all your employees who had anything to do with Ormiston.”

  Restless, Nicole rose, wrapped her arms around her waist and began to pace. “I hate to think one of my employees might have had something to do with Phillip’s murder.”

  “I have to look at everyone.”

  Although she kept her gaze ahead of her, she sensed it when Jake stood, felt him tracking her progress from one wall to the other as he spoke.

  “Did Ormiston’s contract with Meet Your Match cover services from any other business in this building?”

  “No. All the companies have different owners. We make referrals to one another. And give one another’s clients a discount.”

  “You referred Ormiston to Sebastian’s?”

  “Yes. The referral will be noted in his file.”

  She heard the ruffle of paper when Jake opened the file. “Is this list of ten women everyone you matched him up with?”

  “It should be.” Turning, she walked across the office to stand by Jake. “Yes,” she said after scanning the list. “Phil lip went out with all ten on his match list. The checks beside each name are the number of times he went out with each.”

  “Three being the highest number.”

  “As I told you, Phillip was hard to please.”

  Jake closed the file. “I have to talk to all these women. I need a rundown on their backgrounds, along with addresses, phone numbers.”

  “Do you want copies of their videos, too?”

  “Videos?”

  “We make videos of our clients where they talk about their interests—what they like to do, where they like to go. Other clients can watch the tape, find out what that person likes up front, get an idea of their personality. If they still want to meet, we arrange it.”

  “Then chemistry comes into play,” Jake observed, his gaze settling on her mouth. “That’s what this business is about, isn’t it? Chemistry.”

  “No,” she countered, while her stomach jittered. “The most important thing is not to let oneself get carried away by emotion.” Like I did, she thought. “That’s why we do the background checks, credit investigations, personality profiles. This business isn’t just about dating. It’s also about finding your perfect match. To do that, it’s vital to know as much as possible about a person you might become involved with.”

  “Doesn’t all that put a damper on finding out pleasant surprises along the way?”

  “It also prevents unpleasant ones.” If she’d known the truth about Cole Champion, she’d never have married him and saved herself a lot of heartache.

  Jake raised a shoulder. “I want copies of the videos, too.”

  Nicole walked to her desk, jotted a note. When she turned, she discovered he’d moved and was standing inches behind her. Knots of unease bunched across her shoulders. For the second time in her life she felt off balance with a man. She knew full well the dangers of the whirlwind of sensation that erupted inside her whenever Jake Ford got close.

  “Here’s my card,” he said. “Call me when the copies are ready.”

  “All right.”

  “If you think of anything else about Ormiston, or the women he went out with, call me. Day or night.”

  When his fingertip brushed hers, she felt a thudding in the pit of her stomach. She knew it was useless to try to deny the pull that existed between her and Jake. She also knew firsthand that, over time, the sharp edge of attraction would dull, the need that swirled inside her would fade, then disappear.

  She’d been young and foolish when she’d met Cole, but she was older now and wiser. Far wiser. She would never again allow herself to be seduced by desire that erased all logic. She had convinced herself long ago that when she found the as-yet-faceless man she thought of as her soul mate, she would feel the steadiness, the slow, sweet beginning that promised a forever. She would not let her emotions detour her from that goal. She would find him. Eventually, she would find him.

  In the meantime, she wasn’t going to repeat her same mistakes with another man who was all wrong for her.

  “Before you leave, we should talk about the lady doctor,” she said, forcing a smile as she looked up into Jake’s eyes.

  “Did she go out with Ormiston, too?”

  “No. She should go out with you. I can have a copy of her video made for you.”

  Still holding the file folder, he stared down at her, his mouth thinning. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”

  “I don’t give up. Period.”

  “You need to ease up where I’m concerned, Taylor. I’ve got no interest in hooking up with any woman. Not now. Not ever. No interest at all.”

  “No interest in women…” Her forehead furrowed as s
he slid his business card into her pocket. “Are you trying to tell me you’re gay?”

  “Hell no!”

  Her eyes widened when his words bounced off the ceiling. “I understand now.” She gave his forearm an encouraging squeeze. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Jake. Your condition is probably treatable.”

  He angled his chin. “My condition?”

  “Several products are known to improve the sex drive. Some are all-natural. There are also practices you can engage in that…” Her voice drifted off as incredulity blanked his face.

  His eyes sparked. Swearing a crude oath, he tossed the file on her desk, clamped his hands on her shoulders and backed her against the nearest wall.

  “Jake, I—” The rest of her thought was forgotten when he layered his body against hers, molding her spine against the wall, trapping her. With her heels on, they were eye-to-eye, chest-to-chest, pelvis-to-pelvis.

  “Improve my sex drive,” he muttered, his mouth hovering over hers.

  “You said…you’re not interested…” The feel of his body against hers had her stunned mind going hazy at the edges.

  “Forget the biorhythm check,” he said, his breath sliding like silk against her lips. “Herbal teas. Beaming me into a parallel universe. I’ll just get back on track with this.”

  “This?” she asked weakly when she saw something akin to the light of battle glinting in his eyes.

  “This.”

  His lips grazed hers while heat pulsed between them. Slowly, gently, the tip of his tongue traced her mouth, outlining her lips with exquisite, excruciating care.

  Her eyes fluttered shut; her heart pounded in her ears, her legs trembled. Already she could feel need building inside her, was aware of the solid ridge of male flesh that pressed against her belly.

  When his mouth claimed hers, desire shot like a bullet through her, stirring the pulse deep inside her to life. Her lips yielded beneath his, parted, then matched the urgent demand in his kiss.

  One of his hands settled at her waist, the other cupped the side of her throat. His thumb slid beneath the neckline of her jacket to stroke the hollow beneath her collarbone. On a soft moan, she plunged into the mindless whirl of her senses and allowed herself to feel. Just feel. He was far from the first man to kiss her, but for the first time in her life, she understood that one kiss could helplessly seduce.

  Her breasts rose and fell against his chest as her lungs strained for air that had become too thick to breathe. Her taut nipples strained against her silk bra, aching for his touch. She had forgotten what it was like when a man’s taste invaded her system, when she thirsted for only him.

  Just him.

  Jake made her remember. The world narrowed and all that existed was the hot press of his mouth against hers, the weight of his body molding against every inch of hers. Nothing. Nothing else mattered; she wanted no other man, only him.

  Some dim spark of sanity flickered in her brain, sending the alarm that she teetered on the edge of a treacherous cliff.

  When he murmured her name, angled his head and deepened the kiss, the alarm faded beneath a rushing tidal wave of need.

  She breathed his name on a ragged sigh. Her hands slid up, feeling the hardness of muscle and tension in his shoulders before her fingers linked around the back of his neck. She would jump off a cliff with this man anytime.

  When he shoved himself back, her skin was damp from the heat that burned between them. Lungs heaving, she leaned against the wall, keeping her eyes closed, as if she could somehow hold what they’d shared inside her.

  “Look at me.” His voice was gruff, as were the hands that cupped her face. “Nicole, look at me.”

  She forced her eyes open, saw the heated flush in his skin, the raw emotion in the dark eyes that lasered into hers.

  “I don’t want to go out with your damn doctor. I sure as hell don’t need help with my sex drive. Have you got that?”

  She could barely make sense of his husky words over the thunder of her heart. “Uh… No. I… Yes.”

  “Good. Now, stay the hell out of my way.”

  On that, he turned and stalked out the door just as his pager started beeping.

  Chapter 4

  Fifteen minutes later, Jake’s blood was still churning.

  With the warrant in his pocket for Phillip Ormiston’s gym locker that had just been delivered by a patrol cop, Jake retraced his steps back across the building’s pink-marbled lobby. He’d done a hell of a lot of stupid things in his life, but kissing Nicole Taylor topped the list.

  “Idiot,” he muttered as he stalked into an empty elevator.

  Never before—not even with Annie—had he been so aware of a woman from the moment he met her. In truth, he’d been aware of Nicole Taylor the instant he saw her at Bill and Whitney’s wedding.

  Dammit, he’d spent more than a week trying to banish the woman from his thoughts. She was still there, clinging like a silk-covered burr. Always in the past he’d been able to shift his work to the forefront, concentrate on the job. Even the intricacies of a homicide investigation couldn’t keep thoughts of Nicole at bay.

  Now, to make matters worse, he had the rich, hot, potent taste of her whipping through his system.

  He stepped off the elevator onto the third floor, his brisk footsteps ricocheting like gunfire off the hallway’s granite tiles. Help with his sex drive! The thought had him biting back a curse. Hell, yes, he needed help! He had done what he’d sworn he wouldn’t do—he’d lost his grip on control. It had taken all of his willpower not to drag her onto the plush office carpet, rip off her clothes and take her there. Right there.

  He had wanted her with a savageness that stunned him.

  “Last thing I need,” he muttered as he jerked open one of the double doors with Sebastian’s artfully etched into the glass. He stopped short when a redhead sauntered out, wearing tiny bands of spandex that strategically crisscrossed impressive curves. Hiking the strap of a leather tote higher on her shoulder, she cast him a look, then her glossed mouth curved. “Looking for someone, handsome?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Will I do?”

  An image shot into his head of Nicole, dressed in a similar eye-popping outfit that would give every man in the gym a preview of the lush curves that minutes ago had been pressed against his own body. The thought darkened his already black mood.

  The glower he sent the redhead had her scooting down the hallway.

  His teeth grinding hard enough to crack fillings, Jake walked into an airy reception area where the sweet scent of fresh flowers mingled with that of earthy workouts.

  A trim, twentyish blonde dressed in a pink leotard sat behind a desk fashioned from illuminated glass blocks. Her eye shadow and lipstick matched her leotard. She brought to mind a cloud of billowing pink cotton candy. “Help you?” she said.

  Shoving back his coat flap to reveal his badge, Jake identified himself. “I need to see your boss.”

  “We already have a cop here. He’s waiting in the men’s locker room.”

  “I know, I sent him. I need to see Sebastian Peck.”

  She swiveled toward a keyboard; fingers with nails painted to match her frothy pink leotard skimmed the keys. “Sebastian is engaged right now, Sergeant Ford,” she said, eyeing the computer’s monitor. “Can one of his associates help you?”

  “No. I need to see Peck.”

  “I’m sorry, he doesn’t like us to disturb—”

  “I’ve got a warrant to serve,” Jake stated. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, it’s up to you. If you don’t want to get hauled in for interfering with official process, you’ll get this show on the road. Now.”

  “Interfering?” Her mouth trembled, and her eyes welled with tears. “I…I can page a trainer…to…to take you to Sebastian.”

  Jake took a deep breath. It wasn’t the blonde’s fault that he was so churned up he wanted to rip her desk apart, one glass block at a time. “Just tell me where Peck is. I’ll find him
.”

  “He’s…playing racquetball.” As she spoke, a man wearing a dark suit and carrying a gym bag strode through the door.

  Jake watched while the man jotted his name and the time on the clipboard positioned on one corner of the desk. That done, he turned and disappeared through a set of doors behind the desk.

  Jake looked back at the blonde. “Are the racquetball courts through there?”

  “Yes. I can have a trainer—”

  “Forget it.” He skirted the desk, shouldered open the doors and was immediately hit with a torrent of light, bouncy music.

  He couldn’t exactly call Sebastian’s a gym, Jake acknowl edged, thinking of the room at the police training center where cops pumped weights and pummeled punching bags amid the acrid stench of sweat. Health palace, maybe, he mused, studying the impressive array of exercise equipment that stretched around the spacious, brightly lit room.

  Judging by the look and age of the clientele using that equipment, Jake deduced that a number were harried executives who’d abandoned their offices to come here and sweat out their stress. Not all looked like executives, though. On his left, a spandex-clad woman with a body as well-toned as a model’s jogged on a treadmill. Beside her, a silver-haired woman with chunky thighs and diamond studs the size of gumdrops in her ears pedaled an exercise bike. Across the room, a Schwarzenegger look-alike reclined on a slant board before a mirrored wall. Using free weights, Mr. Muscle did a set of arm curls that made his biceps bulge like a balloon taking on a shot of helium.

  “Holy…”

  Shaking his head, Jake flagged down a trainer wearing a T-shirt with the gym’s logo. The trainer escorted Jake past a blue-tiled swimming pool where a water aerobics session was in full swing. After stepping through another set of doors, the trainer pointed to one of the enclosed, glass-fronted racquetball courts. “’Bastian’s the big dude,” the trainer said before stepping back through the doors.

  More like huge, Jake decided, watching Sebastian Peck slice the air with a racket that sent a ball careering toward a concrete wall. The guy had to be at least six foot five—a hulk in a tight white muscle shirt and shorts that contrasted with bronzed shoulders and thighs that looked a little harder than cinder blocks. The mountainous build, along with the long blond mane held back with a black sweatband, had the term Nordic warrior popping into Jake’s brain. He fervently hoped he wouldn’t someday be faced with the prospect of physically taking down this mountain.