"I’ll be ready."
"Great. Come-on, it’s cold out here." He resettled his arm around her shoulders—ha, take that right arm!—and guided her to the car.
After driving her home, Jake watched her disappear into her house with a little wave.
What am I doing? Nothing can come from this. He lived hundreds of miles away and wasn't planning on moving. He shoved the car into gear and headed to the police station, his thoughts focused on Violet the entire way. He didn’t even recognize himself around her and that scared the hell out of him.
#
Nick was just about to call it a day when Kincaid strolled into the station and dropped into the chair by his desk. "What’s up?" Nick tossed down the report he was reading. "Uncover anything?" Kincaid filled him in on the conversation with Carlos Perez. "Want me to send a car over and bring him in for more questioning?"
Kincaid shook his head. "Not yet. My gut tells me he isn’t guilty, but I want to check out a few things before we do anything."
"Okay, boss, whatever you say. So…did you have a chance to talk to Ms. Anastasia again?" Nick watched for the reaction when he mentioned Violet’s name. Sure enough, Kincaid’s shoulders tensed slightly. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed.
"Uh, yeah."
Jiminy Christmas, it was easy to fluster the unflappable supercop. All he had to do was mention the fetching Ms. Anastasia. When he didn’t add anything, Nick tried to think of another way to prod him but Kincaid beat him to the punch.
"Ms. Anastasia accompanied me to visit Perez."
"Excuse me?" Nick tapped his ear. Did he just hear correctly? Supercop breached protocol? Not like that really mattered. Hell, he was known to breach protocol when necessary. In fact, he was legendary for it.
Kincaid shifted in his seat. "I said I took Ms. Anastasia with me to visit Perez. He wouldn’t have opened the door willingly if she hadn’t been with me. She's his only friend."
"I assume you cautioned her against repeating any testimony she heard." Poke, poke, poke, supercop.
"Of course."
Nick nodded, trying to keep a grin from busting loose. Since Kincaid was truly a good guy, he decided to let him off the hook. For now. "Crime scene just finished fingerprinting the storage room. There were thousands of prints so they have to whittle it down and eliminate duplicates."
Kincaid nodded. "Good. As soon as they're done, I’ll make sure they run them through IAFIS and see if we have any hits." By utilizing the FBI's Integrated Automated Fingerprinting Identification System, they could have matches in a matter of minutes.
"You wanna go grab a burger or something?" He watched as Jake's eyebrows drew tight and he shifted again.
"I, uh, have plans."
Whoa, ho, ho! Supercop has a date. Damn, fast worker. He could take lessons. Okay, okay, just a little more fun at Kincaid’s expense. "Oh really, what kind of plans?"
Jake busied himself shuffling a stack of papers on Nick’s desk. Nonchalantly he said, "Ms. Anastasia and I are going to dinner. We didn’t get a chance to go over her statement again."
Nick threw his hands in the air. "Hey, you don’t have to explain anything to me. You want to take Violet out for a nice dinner, go back home and play a little tonsil hockey, that’s fine by me." Wow, would you look at that! What an unusual shade of red!
"This is strictly business, nothing more," Jake huffed. "Besides, this way I can keep an eye on her, make sure the killer doesn’t come after her."
"Whatever you say, Kincaid, whatever you say." Nick chuckled and stood, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. He slapped Kincaid on the back. "I’m off to grab some dinner. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning."
Nick stepped out into the hall and almost crashed into Lacey Crane, one of the dispatchers. "Oh, hey, I’m sorry," he said as he grabbed her arms to steady her.
"I’m not," she purred, batting long dark lashes at him. She was a foot shorter than him but had curves in all the right places…abundant curves. He forced himself not to ogle her chest. He might have slipped once or twice, but for the most part, he focused on her face.
She tossed her short blond curls and fixed her baby blues on him. "I wish you would crash into me more often." She added a saucy wink and Nick managed to stifle a groan. It'd been months since he’d been with a woman…since Maya. His thoughts drifted back to that night and damn if his body didn’t respond. He shook the images from his head and concentrated on the woman in front of him. She was the polar opposite of Maya. Maybe that’s what he needed to get his mind off of the beautiful cop. Besides, he was so wound up over the investigation, he needed to let off some steam or he wouldn’t be able to function properly.
"I was just going to grab something to eat," he said. "Would you like to join me?"
"Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for months," she exclaimed. "Let me get my coat." As if knowing he would be checking out her ass—he was—she tossed him a smile over her shoulder. Nick ignored the guilt pounding in his skull. He liked Lacey, sure, but he wanted nothing from her but to ease an ache…and erase demons. She had quite a reputation, had dated many of the other cops so she knew the score. He didn’t have to worry about her getting her feelings hurt. And he didn’t have to worry about his heart getting involved, like it did with—
"Detective Turner?"
As if he conjured her up from his thoughts, Maya appeared in front of him. Damn, she was beautiful. His hands itched to cup her face. "What?" He barked, feeling like a jerk when she flinched. But, being the Maya he knew and loved…no, not that—anything but that—she jutted her chin out and forged on.
"I know we’ll have a briefing first thing in the morning, but is there anything new on the case?"
The case…focus on the case, Turner. "Kincaid located the janitor, Carlos Perez."
Maya perked up. "Is he in custody?"
He shook his head. "He questioned him but we have no evidence to hold him. Kincaid’s gut feeling is the guy isn’t guilty." He looked in her eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t. He got lost in those cat eyes. He wanted nothing more than to grab her and drag her into the nearest empty room and sink into her as deep as a man could into a woman.
"Nick?"
Her tentative question, uttered no louder than a breathless whisper, was his undoing. He tried to stay away from her but it was a losing battle. He leaned closer. Her lashes fluttered closed. He needed her like he needed…
"I’m ready for our date, Studmuffin."
Jake spun guiltily at the sound of Lacey’s voice. He'd totally forgotten about her. Her freshly reapplied lipstick glistened as she rolled her tongue across her plump lips. The hallway behind him was quiet. Too quiet. Deathly quiet. He slowly rotated to face Maya and the look of undisguised hurt on her face felt like a physical blow.
Maya composed herself, pasted on a fake smile, and straightened her spine. "Enjoy your date."
Her voice left no doubt that she thought he would enjoy Lacey like he'd enjoyed her. He didn’t want her thinking that, even though that was what he planned on five minutes ago.
"Maya, wait."
She didn’t break stride, her brisk steps echoing down the hall as she disappeared around a corner.
Lacey slid an arm around his. "Where are you taking me?" She ran a ruby red fingertip along his forearm. "Cause we could just go back to my place."
Nick looked down at the other woman and knew he wasn’t going anywhere with her.
"Look Lacey, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cancel. Something came up."
#
Jake drove to his hotel for a shower and change of clothes. Opting for casual, he chose khakis with a dark-colored sweater.
Darkness fell early in the winter in Vermont so he switched on the lights as he motored to pick up Violet. Her house was a charming two-story cottage, with stone facade and a cobblestone walkway. Her porch light beamed a warm welcome and he sucked in a deep breath as he traipsed to her door. He felt lik
e a teenager, picking up his date for the prom.
The faint yellow glow of the doorbell shimmered against the light gray of the evening. He pushed the button. A rumble of barking greeted him as Violet flung open the door. Jake forgot to breathe. She looked stunning in a black jacket with a flower pattern over a black silk shirt and jeans. He glanced down at her feet. She had on black boots with a chunky heel.
But the outfit, dressy yet understated, wasn’t what caught his eye. It was her mane of jet hair, pulled back from her face with a band and hanging soft and full down her back. The effect made her eyes stand out in her face. He hardly noticed Zeus running back and forth under his outstretched hand, essentially doing all the work and patting himself.
He cleared his suddenly Sahara-dry throat. "You look lovely, Violet." Hell of an understatement, Kincaid.
"Thank you," she replied shyly. "So do you."
Jake chuckled. He didn’t think anyone had ever called him lovely before.
"Shall we?" he asked with an exaggerated sweep of his hand. Violet grabbed her parka, they both bid a dejected Zeus goodbye and she locked the door behind them.
"Don’t you have to reset the alarm?"
"This is Vermont," Violet chuckled. "Some people don’t even lock their doors."
Jake spun around, pinning her with a dark glare. "It’s Vermont with a serial killer on the loose," he reminded her harshly. She paled under the dull glow of the street lights. "One who knows you and he may feel that your interruption caused him to alter his routine. He could come looking for revenge. Or he could fear you could ID him."
Violet’s gloved hand covered her mouth. "I hadn’t thought about anything like that."
Jake forced himself to relax. "Thankfully, you’ve got one hell of an alarm in Zeus." That got the smile he was looking for. He knew he'd scared her but she needed to know in order to stay vigilant. He took her arm and started down the sidewalk. "I’ll arrange to have an alarm installed tomorrow."
"You don’t have to do that. I can—"
"I insist," he interrupted softly, squeezing her hand. "I'm in the security business," he reminded her. "I've got contacts." He guided her to the car and helped her inside. Once she was settled, he closed the door and strolled around to the driver’s side.
"Where are we going?"
"Carlitos," she announced. "I hope you like Italian."
"Sounds great," he replied as he pulled out of the driveway. He tried to break the uncomfortable silence that settled around them. "Here’s hoping that front of snow passes right by." What was it with him babbling about the weather when he was alone with her?
"Um," Violet answered.
Well, wasn’t that just great. Now he could add boring to mean and unfunny in his growing list of attributes.
#
"Turn left here," Violet instructed as they neared the restaurant. "It’s just ahead."
What was wrong with her? She was as nervous as a girl on her first date. She couldn’t even manage to keep up her end of the conversation. Jake probably thought the windshield wipers were more exciting company than she was—and he'd be right. He tapped the blinker and angled into the parking lot. Unbuckling in a flash, he scurried around to open her door. He held a hand out to assist her from the car.
"Thank you." She stiffened when she realized he still had a firm grip on her hand. He opened the heavy glass and wood door and led her into the restaurant and they approached the maitre’d. The scent of fresh garlic and basil hung heavily in the air. The soft clang of utensils hitting china and low, intimate conversation added to the romantic ambiance of the charming bistro. The room was draped in mellow candlelight. Vivaldi’s "The Four Seasons" played softly in the background.
"Buona sera, madame e signore, good evening. Welcome to Carlitos," the man greeted them with a heavy Italian accent. "Due per pranzo, two for dinner?" At their nod, he grabbed menus and indicated for them to follow. He escorted them to a quiet table covered with a white lace tablecloth, fine crystal goblets and long, glowing candlesticks.
"The specials today are the Scamorza alla Griglia, a wood-grilled handmade smoked mozzarella served on a bed of mixed greens and assorted grilled vegetables as an appetizer, and for the main course, Tortelloni alla Valdostana, or large spinach tortellini stuffed with three cheeses and tossed with a sauce of imported gorgonzola and Italian fontina cheese. Would you like to see the wine menu?"
"Yes, thank you." Jake took the proffered list from the man and scanned the choices. "Do you have a wine preference?"
"Anything red."
She would kill for a glass right now. Usually at night, she curled up in front of the fireplace with a glass of merlot to grade papers or plan lessons. It calmed her nerves after a hectic day and she desperately needed a drink now being alone with the incredibly sexy Jake Kincaid.
Their waiter introduced himself as Paulo with a fake Italian accent. Violet figured he was a college student, probably a theater major. "We'd like a bottle of the Banti Morellino di Scansano Aquilain," Jake ordered in pretty good Italian. Violet was duly impressed.
Paulo scribbled their order and quickly departed. Violet studied Jake across the table. Violins softly hummed in the background, the sound both relaxing and sensual. She watched as the flames danced sparks across his brilliant green eyes, like moonlight on a dewy meadow. Unconsciously she smiled at him and he smiled back, the effect instantly devastating. When he grinned, the harsh lines of his face disappeared, making him look almost boyish in his charm.
"Thank you for coming with me tonight. I wasn’t looking forward to another round of shrimp stir fry from Number One Chinese Restaurant."
Violet laughed at his attempt at a Chinese accent. "Well, I have to thank you. Otherwise, I would be dining with my usual companion, Chef Boyardee."
Jake reached over and grasped her hand, his thumb brushing back and forth across her knuckles. "A beautiful woman shouldn’t spend her evenings with an old codger like the Chef."
Violet attempted to smile but the feeling of her small hand engulfed in his large one, the stroke of his thumb on her skin, sent pleasure waves through her body. She tried but failed to suppress a slight shudder. "S-sometimes I spice things up a bit and invite Uncle Ben over for dinner."
A deep, husky chuckle drifted across the table and the sound wrapped around Violet’s heart like a warm hug. The arms squeezed until she felt a real ache in her chest.
"So, are you originally from Burlington? Vermont?"
He continued stroking her hand and she had a very hard time concentrating on his question. "No, we moved around a lot so I’m not really from anywhere." At least nowhere she would claim.
"What brought you here? School? Job?"
"A friend, actually. A good friend." She was thinking of the way Grandma June encouraged her to apply to the school when the job opened up. She didn’t live long enough to know Violet had been offered the job. She noticed Jake’s eyes narrow, a scowl on his face. Was that a blush creeping up his neck? She couldn’t tell, it was too dark.
"That Timms fellow?" he forced out between clenched teeth.
The question startled her. Why would he think she moved here for Todd? Wait a minute, why wouldn’t he? Todd came to her aid after the tragedy in the storage room and he wore his role of protector like a suit of armor. Did Jake think they were more than friends? Could Jake be jealous of Todd? "No. I met Todd after I moved here last fall." She watched as he exhaled and the deep groves between his eyes disappeared. He had been jealous. The euphoria was short lived as she noticed the grooves deepening again. Better set him straight right away.
"The friend was Mrs. Stansfield. She was more than a friend—a surrogate grandmother, my guardian angel."
Paulo arrived with the wine. He made a grand presentation of displaying the bottle, draping it over an extended forearm, and then an even bigger one opening the cork. He poured a dollop into Jake’s glass and watched while Jake swirled the red liquid, lifted it to his nose to sniff the bouquet and took a sip.
Jake nodded and the waiter filled both glasses. He took their orders, bowed slightly and retreated.
"I’m impressed."
Jake quirked an eyebrow. "With…Paulo? His fake I-cana-adda-an-a-toa-alla-mya-wordsa-anda-pretenda-I’ma-Italiana accenta?"
Violet burst out laughing and had to put a hand in front of her mouth to stop liquid from spurting out. She pulled in a deep breath after finally swallowing. Dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin, she said with a grin, "No, Paulo didn’t impress me. Amuse, maybe, but certainly not impress." They smiled at each other. "It was your wine etiquette."
"I think I may have been insulted. What, you think a lowly former federal agent doesn’t know anything about wine?" he teased.
"Oh, no, I didn’t mean that," she quickly corrected. "I just meant that most men in general don’t."
A throaty chuckle drifted across the table. "Now I feel like I have to defend my gender against the slanderous words of a beautiful gypsy."
"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way either."
Jake picked up her hand again. "Anyone ever tell you that you are adorable when you are flustered?"
Violet shot him a look that said "yeah right," and downed a hearty gulp of wine. Relax. She was so nervous, she felt like the gawky kid she'd once been. Ostracized by kids her age, too shy to make friends, the past was one big painful memory.
"So, do you have more siblings or just the one sister?"
Violet stiffened and yanked her hand away. "How do you know about my sister?" The question was purely defensive. She'd been thinking of her past, vulnerable to the feelings, and Jake’s question seemed too personal. She never talked about Daisy to anyone. Never.
"The missing picture."
"Oh, right." She completely forgot about the snapshot. It was her favorite, taken when she was seven and Daisy five. They lived in a trailer in eastern Texas at the time with no friends except each other. But they had their dad who loved them. Now she had neither. The thought brought a painful well of emotions to the surface, threatening to break her fragile control.
Violets Are Blue Page 9
