by Lyn Gardner
With a huff, Kate spun on her heel and planted her hands on her hips. “What?”
“Sorry. Maybe you don’t remember me. We met a few weeks ago. There was a burglary in my building.”
Remembering Brodie Shaw was not a problem, and it hadn’t been for almost a month. Kate remembered the black trousers Brodie had worn. She remembered the gray V-neck sweater with sleeves pushed up to reveal tanned arms, and she remembered the smell of her goddamned cologne. There wasn’t much Kate couldn’t recall about Brodie Shaw, and it annoyed the hell out of her.
“I remember you, Miss Shaw. You were the witness in that case. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m busy.” With nothing more to say, Kate turned her back on Brodie again.
Rudeness wasn’t something Brodie usually tolerated; however, when it came to DI Monroe, there was a thin line between rude and downright cute. Brodie liked the fact that she, through ordinary conversation, seemed to be able to wind the woman up, throwing her off balance just enough so the staunch exterior of the Detective Inspector gave way to a flustered woman. A drop-dead gorgeous flustered woman at that.
Brodie leaned down, so her mouth was an inch from Kate’s ear. “You know, you’re going to be waiting for your food for quite a while.”
Amidst the smell of tomato sauce and garlic, the fragrance of Brodie’s cologne invaded Kate’s senses, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Kate pressed her lips together, and taking a deep breath, she reeled around to face the cause of her irritation. “Well, it looks like you will have to wait even longer since you’re standing behind me.”
Before Brodie could utter a word, a waitress approached. “Your table’s ready, Brodie,” the woman said, gesturing toward the opposite end of the restaurant. “Come on back.”
Brodie nodded her acknowledgment, and as the waitress walked away, Brodie glanced in Kate’s direction. “I’ve got a reservation, so I’m afraid I shan’t be waiting as long as you,” she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “That is, of course, unless you’d like to join me?”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Kate said, and pivoting back toward the counter, she focused on the menu on the wall.
“Suit yourself.”
With neon beer signs hanging in the windows, an Italian flag painted on the front door, and the smell of all things delicious wafting from its exhaust fans, from the outside, Calabria looked like just another pizza joint. But at the back of the restaurant was an intimate dining area, dimly lit by wall sconces and candles pushed into empty Chianti bottles. It was quiet and secluded, and it was where Brodie spent her Friday nights whenever she planned to hit the clubs. Carbs being carbs, and all that.
Having been given her usual corner booth, Brodie glanced around the room and smiled hello to the regulars. She perused the menu, and when the waitress returned, Brodie ordered some wine and asked for a favor.
Even though cold air had rushed in each time the door behind Kate had opened, it was no match for the heat emanating from the pizza ovens. As Kate shifted her weight from one sore foot to the other, she began opening the toggle and leather fasteners of her duffel coat, deciding the lesser of two evils was to carry it instead of passing out from heatstroke.
“Excuse me, miss.”
Kate turned, and when she saw a waitress holding out a glass of red wine, Kate held up her hand. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t order that.”
“I know, miss. The woman in the back thought you might like some Chianti while you’re waiting.”
Kate’s eyes narrowed. “Well, you can tell her for me that I am not interested.”
Startled by Kate’s abruptness, the waitress barely bobbed her head before she scurried back the way she came, leaving a very red-faced Kate Monroe standing in a queue that hadn’t moved an inch in over ten minutes.
With sweat starting to dampen her hairline, Kate took off her coat, and draping it over her arm, she let out a long, slow breath. By nature, Kate wasn’t a rude person. She was brought up in a strict household where respect was always shown, but Brodie Shaw pushed buttons Kate didn’t even know she possessed. She had done it the first night they’d met, and by what had just happened, Shaw had not lost her touch.
Kate mentally shrugged off her thoughts, and pulling out her mobile, she decided to check her email while she waited.
“Um...excuse me, miss.”
Kate raised her eyes and found herself looking at the same waitress, except this time, the woman was holding a glass of white wine.
“I’m sorry to bother you again, but she thought…she thought maybe this would be more your flavor?”
In an instant, the heat radiating from the ovens paled in comparison to the fiery blood rushing to Kate’s cheeks. Taking the glass from the woman, Kate marched to the back of the restaurant. Even in the dim light, it took only a second to see Brodie Shaw sitting in the corner, and Kate stormed to the booth. “What the hell are you playing at?”
Brodie slowly looked up from the menu in front of her. “Sorry?”
“Where do you get off sending me a drink?” Kate said, placing the glass on the table.
“I was trying to make you comfortable while you stood in the queue,” Brodie said, setting the menu aside. “But since you’ve obviously changed your mind about waiting for takeaway, why don’t you rest those tired feet of yours and have dinner with me?”
“What makes you think I’ve changed my mind about takeaway?”
Brodie looked past Kate to the front of the restaurant. “Because you lost your place in the queue when you came back to see me, and since you’ve been standing here, I’ve seen at least four people walk in the door.”
Kate turned, and when she saw the line at the counter, her shoulders fell, and her blood pressure went in the opposite direction. Whipping back around, she glared at Brodie. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
Brodie couldn’t contain her amusement. “All I did was buy you a drink. You’re the one who left the queue, so the way I see it, you can either go back up there and wait another hour to get your food, or you can join me and be eating in less than twenty minutes. It’s totally your choice.”
Kate’s first impulse was to stomp back to the queue just for spite, except her tired feet and grumbling stomach were casting votes as well. Seconds ticked by as she stood next to the table, trying to decide what to do.
“Look,” Brodie said, sensing Kate may be wavering. “I promise I won’t say a word. We can just share the table. Okay?”
Kate cast her soon-to-be dinner companion a stern look, and tossing her coat into the corner of the booth, she sat down.
Without saying a word, Brodie handed Kate a menu, and after sliding the glasses of red and white wine to within Kate’s reach, Brodie returned to looking at the menu in front of her.
As far as Kate was concerned, there wasn’t a choice, and picking up the glass of Chianti, she began reading the long list of entrees, clueless that opposite her, Brodie was trying her best to control the smile that kept sprouting on her face.
Brodie waited while Kate browsed the menu. She had yet to look up, and even though the waitress had approached twice to take their order, Brodie had waved her off. It wasn’t until several minutes had passed when Brodie finally decided to test the waters. “You know, I come here a lot. If you’d like any recommendations, all you have to do is ask.”
Kate’s first thought was to admonish Brodie for breaking her promise until she looked up and saw the woman gazing back at her. Kate had expected to see a cocky smirk and eyes gleaming with smugness, but instead, Brodie’s features had softened, and her expression was warm and friendly. “It all looks so delicious,” Kate said, looking back down at the choices.
“That’s because it is,” Brodie said. “And it’s really quite simple. You just need to decide how you want to feel when you leave here tonight.”
Kate’s eyebrows squished together. “What do you mean?”
Brodie grinned. “Well, if you want to feel full but not overly so, th
en I’d recommend any of the chicken or veal dishes. If you want to feel like you’re ready to explode, and you’ve added inches to your waistline, then, by all means, order the pasta. It’s marvelous, but they serve it in these enormous bowls, and when you leave, you’ll definitely be waddling. However, if you’d like to leave here tonight feeling proud of eating somewhat healthier, the antipasto is to die for, but be warned, it’s more than enough to feed two.” When Brodie saw Kate nibble on her lower lip, she decided to throw caution to the wind. “And by the way, I love antipasto. So, if you want to share, that works for me.”
Kate flinched. “I don’t even know you.”
“Are you implying I have some sort of communicable disease?”
“No, of course not, but sharing a dinner seems a bit odd given the fact we’re practically strangers.”
“I see,” Brodie said before taking a sip of her wine. “Well, I’ve got nothing to hide, Detective Inspector, so what would you like to know?”
Even though she felt Brodie was bordering on being hubristic, Kate found it hard not to admire the woman if only for her charisma. There was a playfulness about her Kate hadn’t noticed before, an almost boyish charm in the way she spoke softly, her eyes seeming to smile even when one didn’t appear on her face. “Fine,” Kate said, putting the menu aside. “Why do you look at me the way you do?”
“You’re the detective. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“I asked you a question, and you said you had nothing to hide...so answer it.”
Brodie chuckled. “I think you’re gorgeous.”
“Do you say that to a lot of women?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Are you gay?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m not.”
“Pity.”
“I think I should leave,” Kate said, reaching for her coat.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Why?” Brodie said, resting back in her seat. “You can’t tell me that men haven’t said the same thing to you. Why is it so different when I say it?”
“You’re a woman.”
“So, therefore, I can’t admire another woman’s beauty? Is that it?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
Kate sighed. “I just don’t want you to think…I don’t want you to assume—”
“I’m not assuming anything,” Brodie said, leaning slightly toward Kate. “I’m not going to hit on you if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t chase women who don’t want to be chased, Detective. It’s not my style. Just because you’re straight and I’m not doesn’t mean that we can’t share an antipasto, unless, of course, you’re homophobic.”
“I most certainly am not,” Kate said, straightening her spine.
Before the conversation could go any further, the waitress approached again, and Brodie looked at Kate for guidance. Seeing her nod as she picked up her Chianti, Brodie smiled at the waitress. “Angie, we’ll have the antipasto.”
***
For well over an hour, they dined on the assorted meats, cheeses, olives, and peppers served over a bed of lettuce. They chatted in between bites, and by the time the platter was empty, Kate’s opinion of Brodie Shaw had changed. At first, the conversation was light, the usual suspects of weather, music, and headlines making appearances until Kate’s curiosity got the better of her. Remembering Brodie had said she didn’t have any secrets, Kate asked her about her life, and without blinking an eye, Brodie touched on some highlights.
Her formative years had been spent in a seaside town on the southern coast of England, and after her mother died, she and her two brothers were raised by their father. At fourteen, Brodie came out to her family, and the news didn’t sit well with her father. Believing it was his inability to properly raise a girl that had led to Brodie’s waywardness, Harrison Shaw spent several years blaming himself for something he had nothing to do with. Luckily, by the time Brodie went off to college, after numerous talks and umpteen assurances her persuasion had nothing to do with her father’s parenting skills, Harrison came to accept her lifestyle, just like his sons had done years before.
Even though Brodie had graduated with honors, like all budding architects, her career started at the ground level. After taking a position at an engineering firm in London, she spent several years designing parking lots and fast-food restaurants before the death of her grandfather changed her life. And at the tender age of twenty-five, Brodie found herself the proud owner of three empty warehouses.
A contractor by trade, her mother’s father had run a small yet profitable construction business for most of his life, and through the years, he had flipped his fair share of houses as well. The money saved over his lifetime, he split amongst his three grandchildren, leaving a slightly larger portion to the youngest to ensure a tuition-free education, while to the oldest, he left his company, complete with trucks, tools, and an office trailer. But Brodie’s career was already chosen, so instead of extra cash or a company she didn’t want, he left her his dream. The old man had purchased the deserted buildings in hopes of turning them into condos, and who better to do that than an up-and-coming architect.
Brodie joined forces with her older brother Ethan to make her grandfather’s dream come true. Forming a partnership and utilizing her designs, the first warehouse was entirely renovated and leased in less than two years. Not quite a year after that, Brodie resigned her position at the engineering firm and started Spaces by Shaw.
Kate hung on almost every word Brodie had spoken, yet there were a few moments when Kate’s mind would drift as would her eyes. Weeks before, standing in the outer office of Spaces by Shaw, Kate had intentionally avoided giving Brodie attention. The woman’s overt ogling had been as unnerving as it was unexpected, but now, with Brodie sitting only a few feet away, it was hard for Kate not to look.
With cheekbones high and pronounced and a nose, long and straight, Brodie had an aristocratic air about her without even trying. Her eyes were the color of cognac, and they were framed by the longest and thickest lashes Kate had ever seen. Unconsciously, she told herself it was because of some high-end mascara because no one should have lashes that lush, but Kate knew makeup had nothing to do with Brodie’s lips. Full, but not so much to take away from the rest, they completed a face, angular and handsome. Her ebony hair was styled in a no-nonsense razor cut, slightly longer on the top than it was on the sides, and as Kate admired the hairstyle, she noticed hints of gray coming through the black at Brodie’s temples.
Brodie wasn’t a self-conscious person, and she wasn’t stupid. Twice she had raised her eyes only to lower them again when she noticed Kate studying her, but with no food left to be eaten, Brodie looked up again. It was easy to see what had caught Kate’s attention. “Admiring my gray?”
Kate’s cheeks heated instantly. “Um, no,” she said, picking up her wine. “I was just thinking most women your age would color it.”
“First, you don’t know my age, and second, I’m not that vain. My father was totally salt-and-pepper by forty, so I figure in two years, I’ll be the same. And in case you missed it, that makes me thirty-eight.”
“I didn’t miss it, and I’ve always believed age is just a state of mind.”
“I couldn’t agree more, but when I feel like I’m twelve and I skip down the street, people do have a tendency to stare.” Brodie’s face lit up when Kate smiled. “You have a nice smile,” Brodie said, quickly holding up her hands. “And before you get all huffy, that wasn’t a pickup line. It’s just a fact.”
“Is that so?” Kate said, eyeing her dinner companion.
“Well, technically, it could be a pickup line, but not right now.”
“Good.”
The conversation stopped when Angie came over, and clearing away the plates, she was about to place the bill folder on the table when Brodie handed her a debit card.
Kate reached for her ha
ndbag as the waitress walked away. “How much do I owe you?”
“Dinner’s on me.”
“No, it’s not,” Kate said, opening her wallet.
“Well, not literally,” Brodie said with a laugh. “But it’s my treat.”
“That’s not necessary,” Kate said, setting her jaw. “I’m more than able to pay my own way.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me for Christ’s sake. I’m just paying for dinner. It was my idea, and it was my fault you lost your place in the queue.”
Kate arched an eyebrow. “Earlier, you said it wasn’t your fault.”
“Okay,” Brodie said with a twinkle in her eye. “So maybe it was a little my fault.”
Kate couldn’t help but smile. Although the woman didn’t lack confidence, throughout dinner, she had been nothing less than pleasant, so when Angie brought back Brodie’s card, Kate put her own away.
They both slid out of the booth, and before Kate could react, Brodie reached around and grabbed her coat, opening it so Kate could put it on. Hesitating for the briefest of moments, Kate allowed the act of chivalry to be completed all the while trying to remember the last time a man had done the same.
Not another word was spoken until they exited the restaurant, and both hunched their shoulders in unison at the brisk wind whipping down the street. Reaching into her pockets to pull out her gloves, Brodie said, “Did you take the Tube or drive?”
“I drove. I’m parked a couple of blocks that way,” Kate said, pointing past Brodie. “And you?”
Brodie gestured with her head at the metallic blue Jaguar parked on the street in front of the restaurant.
Kate looked at the automobile and then back at Brodie. “Nice car.”
“What can I say?” Brodie said with a shrug. “I like nice things.”
Their eyes met, and in an instant, Kate knew the words weren’t meant only to describe the high-end automobile. “Well, I had better be going,” she said, and pulling on her gloves, she took a step in her car’s direction.
“I’ll walk you.”
