Dangerous Liaisons

by Maggie Price

  So, she wouldn’t trust them. Couldn’t.

  Pulling open her desk’s center drawer, she plucked up the business card that Harold Young had slid into her palm a few nights ago. The dinner they’d shared had been a business meeting, Harold being a potential client. Harold Young, Ph.D., Professor of English. Tall and lanky with brown hair and dark, sensitive eyes, Harold was the type of man she’d decided long ago was her soul mate. The exact opposite of Cole.

  And Jake.

  Harold had yet to sign a contract with Meet Your Match. Inviting him to dinner wouldn’t blur her steadfast rule that she didn’t date clients. Harold was a safe man, a steady constant in an unsteady world. When she was around him, her brain functioned. She didn’t have a problem keeping her perspective, wasn’t in danger of tumbling off a cliff.

  “Nicole?”

  Mel Hall’s voice brought her head up. “Yes, what is it?”

  Her assistant stood in the wedge of the open door, uncertainty in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  Impatience flared inside her. How could one person ask the same question almost hourly over the past two days?

  “I’m fine.”

  Her clipped tone put an instant hurt in his eyes that tugged on her conscience.

  She closed her eyes, ordered her nerves to settle. It wasn’t Mel’s fault her life was in chaos. He’d asked the question so often because he cared about her. Mel was a dependable presence in her life, he was good for her. She needed to remember that, make a point of telling him more often how indispensable she considered him.

  She opened her eyes and forced a smile. “I’m fine, Mel. Just a little edgy, and I’m sorry for that. What can I do for you?”

  He inclined his head toward her phone. “Ingrid Nelson’s on line one. She says she’s already reported to her counselor about her date last night with Jake.”

  Nicole fingered the counselor’s report. “Yes, I read Ingrid’s comments.” Her oozing comments.

  “She says she wants to let the boss know personally how pleased she is with Jake.”

  “How thoughtful of her.”

  Mel smiled. “I’d say she’s more than pleased.”

  “You would?”

  “She called him a genuine eye treat with a top-of-the-line body.”

  Nicole’s blood roared like an ocean in her head. “I see.”

  Mel’s smile faded. “I’m sorry. After the other day it’s, well, uh, apparent something’s going on between you and Jake.”

  “No.” She held up a hand. “I understand why you’d think that, but there’s nothing going on. Sergeant Ford and I got carried away, is all.” She glanced down at Harold Young’s business card. “Nothing like that will happen again.”

  “To be honest,” Mel began slowly, “I think that’s good. I hope you don’t mind me giving my opinion, but I don’t think the cop’s your type. Something tells me he’s not the best man for you, Nicole.”

  She tightened her fingers on the business card. She’d been telling herself the same thing since the moment she spotted Jake at Bill and Whitney’s wedding. To hear Mel voice the same opinion shouldn’t set her teeth on edge, but it did. Which was further confirmation that she needed to get her emotions in line and banish Jake from her thoughts. She would start by inviting the professor to dinner at a nice restaurant that evening.

  “You’re right, Mel.” Squaring her shoulders, she glanced at the blinking light on her phone. She couldn’t stop her stomach from roiling at the image of the willowy physical therapist draped over Jake’s top-of-the-line body.

  “Well…” She cleared her throat against the hitch in her voice. “I’m glad Ms. Nelson’s pleased. That’s what we want, isn’t it? Pleased clients.”

  “You got it, boss.” Mel checked his watch. “It’s nearly tea time. What do you want today?”

  “Something that soothes the nerves,” she replied, then reached for the phone.

  Just shy of midnight, Nicole sat at the center island in her brother and sister-in-law’s kitchen, a teacup and saucer in front of her. So far, the orange-and-spice herbal tea she’d brewed had done nothing to ease the headache that tap-danced behind her eyes.

  She looked up when light wedged through the door; seconds later Bill wandered in. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants; his blond hair was sleep-rumpled, his face stubbled.

  “I didn’t know you were up,” he said, his bleary gaze taking in her long robe of ivory silk.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” she muttered over the rim of her cup. How could she when she’d just lived through the most tedious, desperately uninteresting evening of her life?

  “How was your date with the professor?”

  “Going over premiums with an insurance salesman would have been more stimulating.”

  “Sounds like the guy isn’t your type.”

  Nicole sat her cup onto the saucer with a snap. “I’ve heard enough about who is and who isn’t my type,” she fired back. “Everybody’s got an opinion. I suppose yours is that I should marry a man who bores me to tears.”

  Bill blinked, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t recall saying that.”

  “Well, don’t. I’m sick of the subject. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Uh, fine.” One sandy brow raised, he pulled open the door to the refrigerator, snagged a can of V8, then slid onto the stool beside her. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Nothing.” Scowling, she shoved her hair behind her shoulders. “Why aren’t you snuggled in bed with your new wife?”

  “My wife got called out to work a homicide. It’s hard to snuggle when one of the principle parties is at a crime scene.”

  If Whitney was at a homicide scene, Jake was there, too. Nicole pressed her fingers against her eyes. Why did everything circle back to Jake? Why had she sat during the entire interminable dinner with Harold, thinking about Jake? About his touch. His kiss. About him.

  Bill settled his hand on hers. “Talk to me, pest.”

  Despite the pounding in her head, the corners of her mouth twitched at the pet nickname he’d used since junior high.

  “Are you ever going to forgive me for getting on the school’s PA system and announcing that Marcia Sue Shannon would be your perfect date for the spring dance?”

  “No. I plan to hold that over your head for the rest of our lives.” His eyes sobered. “Does the reason you’re sitting in my kitchen in the middle of the night have something to do with Jake Ford?”

  Nicole started to protest, then sagged back on her stool. “Am I that obvious?”

  “I’m tempted to tell you that I zeroed in on your internal struggle using skills of observation honed over years in a courtroom. That would be a lie. Whitney mentioned something.”

  “I can’t get Jake out of my head. I don’t want him there, but that doesn’t seem to matter. He just won’t leave. I’m not so sure he isn’t in my heart, too.” She massaged her aching right temple. “I don’t know what to do about any of it.”

  Bill’s hand tightened on hers. “I met Whitney less than six months after Julia broke our engagement. The last thing I wanted or needed was to jump into another relationship, or so I kept telling myself. Whitney had been burned by her ex-husband so her sentiments were the same where I was concerned. In the end, all the logical thinking in the world couldn’t keep us apart.”

  “You didn’t exactly have good things to say the other night about the prospect of my getting involved with Jake.”

  “You’re my sister. I don’t want you hurt. I also don’t want to try and run your life.” Bill raised a shoulder. “Let’s make a deal. You do what you feel is best for you. If some guy turns into a creep, you let me know and I’ll beat him to a pulp.”

  Nicole pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek. “Deal.”

  Bill grinned. “That offer applies to your ex-husband, you know. I never did get a chance to hammer Champion.”

  “You never will. If you get near Cole, he’ll run in the oppos
ite direction.”

  “He’s not as thick as I thought.”

  The doorbell’s chime drifted in from the hallway.

  Bill frowned as he rose. “You expecting someone?”

  “Not dressed like this,” Nicole said, glancing down at her silk robe.

  “Maybe Whitney forgot her key,” he said before disappearing out the door.

  Nicole carried her cup and saucer to the sink. Although her talk with Bill hadn’t resolved anything, she felt calmer. More settled than she had in days. Where relationships were concerned, heeding logic wasn’t always the right course— Bill and Whitney were proof.

  “Nicole.”

  Bill said her name with such grimness that she jerked around. Her heart gave another jerk when she saw Jake standing in the doorway just behind her brother. He had on jeans, a dress shirt and dark sport coat, his gold badge clipped to its breast pocket. Both men looked as grim as Bill had sounded.

  “What’s happened?” She took a step forward, peering through the doorway in a futile attempt to spot Whitney. “Is it Whitney?” She fought an ice-pick jab of panic in her stomach. “Has something happened to Whitney?”

  “No.” Bill stepped forward, put his arm around her shoulders. “Whitney’s fine.”

  “She’s on some interviews right now,” Jake added as he stepped into the kitchen. “Nicole, I need to ask you about a professor named Harold Young. Is he a client of Meet Your Match?”

  “Harold?” she asked weakly. “What happened to Harold?”

  The silent look that passed between the men had her jerking from Bill’s touch.

  “What happened?”

  “He’s dead,” Bill said quietly.

  “No… I had dinner with him.” She sent the clock on the oven a disbelieving look. “We left the restaurant together three hours ago. Three hours ago.”

  “Did Young drop you off here after dinner?” Jake asked.

  “No, we met there, so we said goodbye in the parking lot.” She took a step toward Jake. “You’re Homicide. If Harold had died in a car wreck you wouldn’t be here. What happened?”

  “A neighbor who works an evening shift got home, saw Young lying in his driveway and called 911. We found your business card in the pocket of his suit.”

  “I gave him the card at dinner.” She closed her eyes, opened them. “He asked for my card and I watched him slide it into his pocket.”

  “So, he’s not a client?” Jake asked. “The agency hasn’t matched him with either of the women who’d dated both Ormiston and Villanova?”

  “No. As far as I know, Harold has never met Ingrid Nelson or Rhonda Livingston.” She shook her head. “Do you think one of them killed him?”

  “Whitney’s interviewing both of them right now, checking alibis if either has one. I couldn’t do that since we don’t want Nelson or Livingston to know I’m a cop. Not at this point, anyway.”

  Bill looked at Jake. “Was the killer’s MO the same as the first two murders?”

  “Looks like it. The M.E.’s on his way in now to do the autopsy. We need to be sure Young didn’t keel over in his driveway from a heart attack.”

  “Do you know yet what the killer’s injecting his victims with?” Bill asked.

  “No. The M.E.’s using a process of elimination, telling us what the killer didn’t use.” Jake’s brows slid together. “All we know for sure is that the killer has drawn a target on clients of Meet Your Match.”

  “I told you Harold wasn’t a client.” Nicole’s emotions were rocketing, making it difficult to hold on to any threads of composure. “He’d never been to my office, didn’t know Phillip or DeSoto. It’s me, isn’t it? Harold died because of his connection to me.”

  “We don’t know yet if Young was murdered,” Jake said evenly. “But if it turns out he was, then, yes, you’re the link. Who knew you were having dinner with Young?”

  “No one. I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Did you write it in your appointment book at work? Jot the time and place on a notepad? Enter it into your computer?”

  “No, my getting together with Harold didn’t have anything to do with business. It was…a spur-of-the-moment thing. I called him this morning and asked him to meet me at Nikz for dinner.”

  “Did you get the sense that anyone followed you there?”

  “No.”

  “See anyone you knew, inside or in the parking lot?”

  “No.”

  When the phone on the counter behind her shrilled, Nicole jumped.

  “Busy night,” Bill murmured as he swept up the receiver.

  “Coffee.” Remeeting Jake’s gaze, she rubbed her hands over her forearms to dispel a chill. “I should offer you coffee.”

  “Thanks, but I have to meet Whitney back at the station. I’ll grab some there.”

  “Fax it to me now,” Bill said, then rambled off the number. “If the warrant’s not perfect when you wake that judge up at three in the morning to get his signature, he’ll chew you up and spit you out. I’ll get back to you after I look over your paperwork.” He hung up, then turned. “Looks like I’ll be up most of the night, too.”

  “Perk of being a civil servant,” Jake commented.

  “One of many.” Bill ran a palm down Nicole’s hair. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” Inside, she felt like glass, ready to shatter.

  “Sure you are. This isn’t your fault, Nicole. None of what’s happened is your fault.”

  “Tell that to Phillip and DeSoto and Harold.”

  “What I would tell them is that what happened is the fault of the person who jabbed a needle in their necks. That wasn’t you.” Bill squeezed her arm. “I’ll be in my study if you need me.”

  “He’s right,” Jake said as Bill disappeared out the door. “None of this is your fault.”

  Because she could feel hot tears boiling up, ready to erupt, she turned her back on him, pressed a trembling hand to her throat. “It was just dinner. That was all it was. Harold wasn’t…” She squeezed her eyes shut as a sob clawed at her throat.

  “He wasn’t what?” Jake asked quietly from behind her.

  When she didn’t answer, his hand settled on her shoulder. “What wasn’t he, Nicole?”

  Her tears blurred the copper pots that hung over the kitchen’s center island. “He’s dead because of me.”

  Gripping her shoulders, Jake turned her to face him. “Listen to me. If it winds up Young was murdered, it happened because someone wanted him dead and decided to do something about it. That someone isn’t you.”

  “No, it isn’t me,” she countered. “But if I hadn’t been selfish, Harold would be alive right now. I used him tonight, Jake. Do you want to know why?”

  His mouth tightened. “I’m listening.”

  “I wanted to get you out of my head.” She clenched her fists. “I can’t breathe without thinking about you, dammit. I knew Harold would be safe because he’s your exact opposite. I thought…if I spent some time with him I would come to my senses. Stop thinking…about you. I—”

  She broke, simply broke. Covering her face with her hands, she began to sob.

  “It’s okay.” Jake wrapped his arms around her, drawing her against him. “Just let it out.” He stroked her hair while shuddering sobs racked her. “You need to get it all out,” he added, his voice a soft sweep against her temple while she wept against his shoulder.

  “This isn’t helping,” she managed to say as pain and shock mixed with her tears.

  “It is, if it gets rid of some of the hurt and the misplaced guilt.”

  When her tears finally eased, she leaned back, staring up into his grim face as she wiped her wet cheeks with her fingertips. “I appreciate the use of your shoulder.”

  “I’m the guy you don’t have to thank, remember?” His eyes were dark as midnight as he studied her. “I’m going to get the killer, Nicole. I’m going to find the slime and cut him or her off at the knees. You have my word.”

  “I’ll hold you to that
.”

  He curled a finger under her chin. “If it’s any consolation, I can’t get you out of my head, either. Staying away from you for the past two days has been hell. I did it because I figured it was the best thing. For both of us.”

  “It might be best, but it’s not what I want.” The admission had her easing out a trembling breath. “Not anymore.”

  He used his fingertips to brush the hair away from her damp cheeks. “I have to meet Whitney at the station and make reports. Otherwise, I wouldn’t walk out of here tonight without you.”

  “Otherwise, I wouldn’t let you.”

  His hands slid into her hair, his fingers tightening, arching her head back. “Tomorrow night.” His mouth grazed hers. “I want to see you, Nicole, need to see you. I want you all to myself. Alone.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know what we’ll be dealing with on the case so I don’t know for sure what time I’ll get loose. Where will you be after work?”

  “The gym. I have an aerobics class, then a workout session.”

  “I’d rather have you there with a lot of people around than alone somewhere. I’ll pick you up there.” His mouth lowered, his lips skimming over hers, gentle as air, erotic as sin.

  A needy moan eased up her throat; her stomach trembled with the warm, rich taste of him. Beneath her silk robe, heat surged through her flesh. She could do no more than breathe his name as her fingers curled on the lapels of his sport coat, holding on as if her legs might give out if she let go.

  A minute…or maybe an hour later, he pulled back, pried her hands from his lapels. He kept his eyes on hers as he kissed her fingers one by one. “I’m going to have a hard time thinking about anything else but you until then.”

  “Me, too,” she said, her voice a soft rasp. She touched a hand to his cheek. “A really hard time.”

  He pressed his lips to her brow, her temples, her cheeks, her mouth until her muscles turned to water. And then he was gone.

  Legs trembling, nerves shimmering, Nicole leaned against the nearest counter. She knew she would lie awake the rest of the night, staring at the ceiling, yearning for Jake.