Dr. Orgasm (A Holiday Romance Collection Book 2)

by Michelle Love

  Inca watched her go, a frown on her face. “That was weird.”

  Tommaso sipped his tea. “Are you okay?”

  Inca shook herself. “Yes, sure. Sorry, it’s just, well, I used to be with Olly, as it were. Maybe Luna’s not dealing …” She stopped and shrugged. “Sorry, it’s nothing.”

  Tommaso reached out and took her hand. “So, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner one night this week?”

  Inca smiled. “I would like that … but can I just say? I have a rule—Dutch, all the way. So, if you were planning on something … billionaire style,” she grinned at him, “think again. Plus, I would have nothing to wear at one of those places.”

  Tommaso rolled his eyes. “Fine. How about your friend’s place?”

  Inca clinked her coffee mug against his. “Deal.”

  When he’d gone, she marveled at how quickly they had become friends. Even if they hadn’t had that wonderful night together, she felt like she had known Tommaso Winter her whole life. Was it her imagination? Did that instant connection come from her need for love? God, she hoped not. She hated to think of herself as a needy woman; hell, she wasn’t a needy woman. But Olly had, however gently, shifted her expectations of what men wanted.

  She was still deep in thought when Nancy came in, and she asked her adoptive mother if she thought she was just looking for an Olly replacement. Nancy thought about it.

  “I don’t think so, Inca. You’ve never been someone who needs a man at all times. Maybe it’s just that you and this Winter boy clicked in a way that you haven’t experienced.”

  Inca reddened slightly, and Nancy laughed. “Inca, I’m not talking about sex, and it’s okay. You know, I’m not dead below the waist just because I’m over fifty. He’s a very handsome young man. Just remember, you might want him, but you don’t need him. You are your own person.”

  Inca smiled at her gratefully.

  “Hey, anyone serving?”

  Olly grinned at her as she went to greet him, and as she poured some hot tea for him, she studied him. “You look tired.”

  He gave a small laugh. “Got time to talk now?” But his words were without rancor and she sighed.

  “Olly, for you, of course. Just … I can’t be the person you call last thing at night anymore, you know? For both of us, we need to take a step back.”

  “Yeah, I know. Listen, Luna says you have a new friend, one of the Winters?”

  Inca looked surprised. “Haven’t you met them yet?”

  Olly shook his head. “I don’t know whether this sounds bad, but for once, the department has been busy. I wish it wasn’t for the reason it was.”

  “Me neither. Any progress?” Inca saw Nancy join them, listening to what Olly was saying.

  “We’ve identified one of the women. Kristin Chu, a lawyer from Seattle. Her family is pretty broken up.”

  “I would think. How did she die?”

  Olly hesitated. “Stabbed. Multiple times. Poor kid was almost gutted.”

  Inca looked sick. “God.”

  Nancy shook her head and Olly looked at her. “The other woman was Asian too.”

  Nancy and Olly shared a look and Inca sighed. “Just say it.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to be extra-vigilant.”

  “I thought serial killers were only called that after at least five victims?”

  “Don’t be a wise-ass.” Nancy gave her daughter’s butt a swat. “Just be careful.”

  Inca rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay.”

  Olly smiled at her. “So, when are you going to introduce me to your new boyfriend?”

  “Not boyfriend. Friend.” But Inca felt relief that Olly seemed to be okay with it. “And anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Luna. Is she okay? She was a bit off earlier.”

  Olly looked uncomfortable. “She’s having trouble with us splitting. You know how unstable she feels all the time.”

  “Gotcha. Tell her I miss her, will you? We need to have some girly nights in.”

  Olly nodded. “I will. Thanks, Inks. Look, all joking aside, you’ll make this old man happy if you make sure your deadbolt is on at night, okay?”

  “Promise.”

  Inca remembered his words that night and, when she went up to her apartment that night, she shot the deadbolt across and double locked it. Weary, she took a long bath, then heated up some leftovers in the microwave and sat in front of the television. Outside, the snow was piling up again and she gave an involuntary shiver as she watched the snow fall silently over her little home town.

  Willowbrook was the only town stuck out on a tiny peninsula on the Washington coastline. The one road out of town would sometimes get blocked with snow during winter and then the town became like an island. Inca had always loved the place since Nancy and Tyler had adopted her and brought her home from the children’s home in Seattle. She had never questioned their love for her was as strong as hers for them, and she had never shown any interest in finding out her family history. Lately, though, feeling lonely was becoming a habit, and she’d wondered if she should push Nancy harder for information.

  Maybe I’ll ask Tyler, she thought, grinning to herself. Tyler was softer than Nancy. Younger by ten years than his seventy-year-old wife, Tyler, a tall African American with a slender figure and a kind face doted on ‘his girls’. As far as Inca was concerned, he was her father, and nothing would change that.

  Her cell phone buzzed and she picked it up without looking at the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  Nothing. Inca frowned. “Whoever this is, this is a bad line; I can’t hear you. Hello?”

  Nothing. She shut off her phone and forgot about it. She switched the TV off and the small lamp and sat in the darkness watching the snow fall. Her attention was caught by a movement down on the street. A figure stood under the streetlamp. He looked up, as if sensing her scrutiny, and their eyes met. Inca felt a thrill go through her: fear or desire, she couldn’t tell.

  Raffaelo Winter stared up at her, his expression unreadable.

  The next day, she was still thinking about him. It was her day off and, as she did her chores, she wondered what he had been thinking of, standing outside her apartment like that. Weird. Her phone rang again and this time it was her realtor, Mindy. The apartment Inca lived in was leased from the owner of the building but had offered Inca first refusal on it when he decided to sell. She’d scraped together the deposit and had put her offer in, and now she knew Mindy was calling her to finalize the details.

  “Hey, Mindy. What’s going on?” Inca sat on a kitchen chair, pulling her knees up to her chest. She heard Mindy draw in a deep breath.

  “Inca, honey, I’ve got bad news. The thing is,” Inca heard her sigh, “the apartment’s gone. It’s been sold.”

  For a moment, Inca didn’t process what the realtor had said. Then her heart thudded, heavy with dismay. “It can’t have. I mean, I thought the offer I made was a lock …”

  “It was. It was, sweetheart. I’m sorry, but the owner just called me. They were called late last night by a private buyer who gave them a crazy offer.”

  Inca sat upright in the chair. “I’ll match it. Call them. Tell them I’ll match it. I want this apartment.”

  There was a silence. “Honey …” Mindy hesitated. “You can’t. You can’t match it. The buyer’s offered three times the market price.”

  Inca was speechless. Her shoulders slumped and in that moment she realized how much she had been relying on getting the apartment to kick-start everything and move forward. She felt suddenly tearful.

  “Hon? You okay?” Mindy sounded concerned.

  “How did they know who to call?”

  She heard Mindy give an annoyed hiss. “Jeb. Don’t worry. I’ve nailed his ass to the wall. He knows better than to give out that information. Look, I’m going to email you over some other prospects; we’ll find you something.”

  Inca drew in a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I’m just disappointed, is all.”
<
br />   She jumped slightly as the doorbell rang. “Look, Mindy, thanks, I’ve got to go.”

  She looked around the apartment—her home—and felt tears threatening. This was her home, her space. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. She grabbed her jacket and headed out of the door.

  Inca knocked once on the back door of her parents’, home then let herself in. Tyler, standing in his apron flipping pancakes and frying eggs, smiled at her and bent to kiss her cheek in greeting.

  “Hey, Bubs.”

  “Hey, Popsicle.” She heaved herself onto one of the stools. “How’re things?”

  “Good. Nancy’s gone to the city, so I thought we’d have a little father-daughter chat.” He handed her a plate of food. She grinned her thanks.

  “That always sounds ominous when you say that. Honestly, I didn’t break my curfew, Pa.” She grinned, her mouth full of food, and he laughed, tapping her on the head with a spoon.

  “Your mother tells me there’s a new man in your life.”

  Inca rolled her eyes. “Not really. Just a new friend. I swear to God, you and Nancy are the biggest gossips. Every adjective you can think of. This is yummy, by the way.”

  Tyler sat down with a plate of his own and studied her face. “Thank you. Is it a good thing?”

  Inca grinned. “Yes. You’ve always been a great cook.” Tyler didn’t smile.

  “I’m serious. I worry, Bubba, especially after all that business with Oliver.” Inca smiled. Tyler had never called Olly ‘Olly’, not once.

  Inca thought about it for a long moment. “I think so … I mean, I’m just getting to know Tommaso. He’s not my boyfriend or anything; we’re just friends.”

  Tyler put his head on one side, his expression kind. “So, no romance, then?”

  Inca acquiesced with a small laugh. “Possibly. I really don’t know. But, Pops, that’s not something I want to discuss with you; no offense.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes then Inca remembered. “I got some bad news before, I didn’t tell you—the apartment was sold out from under me. So, now I have to start looking all over again.”

  Tyler was taken aback. “What?”

  “Yep. Apparently, someone offered three times the asking price late last night. Can you believe it?” She sighed and shook her head. “I didn’t actually realize how much it bothers me. I’d had it all planned, how I’d redecorate and fit all my stuff in. It’s like I had it all planned in my head and now—damn. It’s frustrating, is all.”

  Olly had tried not to think about the murders, but couldn’t let it go. When he’d returned to the station, he flicked on the TV and watched the news on KOMO.

  King County Police have now confirmed that the second body found in Willowbrook early Monday morning was that of twenty-five-year-old Kumiko Yue. Miss Yue left her job at a convenience store just after eleven p.m. last night but failed to return home. Police found her body at Willowbrook reservoir when they were called to the discovery of the body of Kristin Chu around six a.m. that morning. Early reports indicate that both victims had been stabbed repeatedly. Seattle Homicide Police will not confirm at this point whether the murders are related to the spate of other murders of Asian-American women over the last year across the country …

  Olly sat up and switched his computer on. Other Asian-American victims? He started a nationwide search. Victim description: Female, brown hair, Asian. Was that too broad? Olly wondered. He looked over to the Sakura and decided it wasn’t. He set the search going and got up to grab some coffee from the pot.

  He looked out of the window and saw Luna talking to Inca in the teahouse. Olly gazed at Inca, her dark hair, almond-shaped eyes, gorgeous honeyed skin, and he couldn’t help imagining the body at the reservoir being hers, cut up, brutalized. He’d ask her not to go out alone.

  Eviscerated, bled out, slaughtered.

  Bile rose in the back of his throat and he looked away quickly, pushing the image out of his mind. He rubbed his eyes as if scrubbing the image from his mind, sat back in his chair, and looked for something to distract him. He’d already dealt with the report from a robbery at the golf course. He picked a drawer at random and pulled a handful of files from the cabinet. Fixing himself some instant coffee, with a wistful look across to the teahouse, he sat down to read.

  Hunter Leeds, the town’s mechanic, limped into the teahouse just after lunch, carrying a large expensive box. Inca greeted him, turning to pour his usual brew. Hunter, an old school friend of Olly’s, didn’t look happy. “Got a delivery for you, Inca.”

  He put the box on the counter. Inca gaped at him. “What is it?”

  Hunter shrugged, obviously put out. Scarlett ran her fingers over the name on the box.

  “Expensive.” She sounded impressed.

  “Winter asked me to bring it to you.” Hunter’s voice cracked with tension.

  Inca was astonished. “Why didn’t he bring it himself?”

  Hunter shrugged. Beside Inca, Scarlett shifted, impatient. “Open it; open it.”

  Inca lifted the top of the box. Tissue paper. She pulled it apart and pulled the dress out. It was gorgeous, pale pink, decorated with tiny beads.

  “Wow.” Scarlett was impressed. “Well, he’s just gone up in my estimation.” She peeked inside. “Even got your size right. That is going to look amazing next your skin.”

  Inca was frowning. “Okay, this is weird. Why on earth would he buy me a dress? Kind of personal, don’t you think? And why the hell wouldn’t he bring it to me himself instead of getting Hunter to do it?”

  Scarlett shrugged. “Perhaps he’s just marking his territory.” She stuck her tongue out at her boss, but Inca was frowning.

  “Flowers would have been enough. If anything.”

  Scarlett could see she was disconcerted. “Hey, look. The guy’s a billionaire. Could you imagine the type of women he’s used to? He’s probably just doing what he thinks you’d expect. You have to admit that.”

  Inca nodded. “Okay, yes, but I thought … I thought he knew me well enough to know I’m not like them.”

  Scarlett shook her head. “Give him a break.”

  Inca ran her hand over the dress. “I don’t know what to do about this. It’s too much. But I don’t want to offend him.”

  “Wear it.” Scarlett shrugged. “What harm can it do?”

  Hunter stood silent, watching the two women. The phone rang and Scarlett stepped away to answer it. Inca smiled at him.

  “Hunter, you look worried. It’s okay, it’s just a dress.”

  Hunter shook his head. “You just be careful around him. I don’t want you getting hurt or nothing.”

  She leaned over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

  “Hunter, why would Tommaso Winter want to hurt me?”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  Inca gave a frustrated laugh. “You don’t even know him.”

  “I seen him watching you.”

  “You’ve seen Tommaso watching me?” A little thrill of pleasure ran through her and she tried not to smile.

  “He watches you. He said things.”

  “What things, Hunter?”

  Hunter flushed, shifted in his chair. He didn’t look her in the eye. “I told him to leave you alone. He says he could have you if he wanted you.”

  Inca didn’t know what to say. “I’m sure you’re wrong, Hunter. He doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just new in town, getting to know everyone. You are very sweet to worry about me, but it’s okay.”

  Later, she asked Scarlett if she minded covering for her. Inca picked up the box. Scarlett looked disappointed. “You’re taking it back to him, aren’t you?”

  Inca nodded. “It’s too much, too soon.”

  “Be careful on that road. More snow is on its way in.”

  Inca steered her car carefully along the steep hill leading to the Fletcher—no, the Winter mansion now, she grinned to herself. How very apt. She cursed as her car’s back wheels slid out from beneath her and she wrestled
the wheel until she straightened up, heart thumping.

  She pulled up in front of the big house and, box in hand, carefully climbed the icy stairs. She rang the doorbell and waited, shivering.

  The door was yanked open and the familiar man stepped out, staring at her. For a moment, she thought it might be Raffaelo, but then his smile stretched across his face and she relaxed.

  “Inca! God, come in. I’m sorry; you just took me by surprise.” He guided her inside and took her coat.

  “As you surprised me,” Inca said gently, trying not to be distracted by the way his green eyes locked onto hers, or the soft way his fingers brushed the inside of her arm as he took her coat.

  Tommaso smiled at her, leaning in to brush his lips against hers. “Didn’t it fit? I had to guess your size.”

  “It’s not that,” she said, and couldn’t help the moan that escaped as his lips found her throat. “It’s just too much.”

  Tommaso stepped back to look at her. “It wasn’t a thank you for sleeping with me gift, if that’s what you think.”

  Inca laughed. “I know that. You are very generous, but I can’t accept it.”

  Tommaso considered for a moment. “Fair enough. Look, now that you’re here, you must stay for dinner. The weather’s getting bad. Raff and I were in the kitchen; come meet him properly.”

  Inca felt her stomach churn with nerves as they walked hand-in-hand to the kitchen. Tommaso introduced her to Debbie. They already knew each other vaguely and so the conversation was easy. Then Raffaelo made an appearance.

  Inca’s chest tightened when she saw him and all she could think of was seeing him on her street, gazing up at her apartment. He seemed to notice her reticence when she greeted him.

  “You are well?”

  She nodded, and wondered why his accent was so much thicker than Tommaso’s. During dinner—which was a mouthwatering lobster bisque followed by lamb so tender it fell off the bone—Tommaso led the conversation, but Inca found that Raffaelo had thawed a little. Ironic, she thought, glancing out of the window. Outside, the weather had worsened, and now all she could see was a whiteout.