Heat of the Night

by Donna Kauffman

  She folded her arms. "You can't even fathom that day, can you? When you have nothing to get up for except walking the dog."

  He started to shoot off his mouth again, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the surprise at how easily she seemed to read him. "No, no, I can't," he said, as honest as he'd ever been. He pulled over to the curb in front of her building. "Nice digs," he said, changing the subject. Running like hell from this one.

  Thankfully she let him. "Gina got us a good deal. You know what they say. 'Location, location, location'."

  "How long have you been here?"

  "Almost two years. We're doing okay."

  "But this job for the mayor would make things a lot more okay, wouldn't it?"

  She looked at him squarely. "Absolutely." She opened her door. "So give us both a career boost and go catch a killer for me."

  He smiled briefly and nodded. "That's my job," They both knew he could just as well have said, "That's my life."

  She leaned in then, her expression surprisingly earnest. "There should be more than that, Brady. You can't be just a cop. Even as good a one as you are. It's not enough." She stood then and snapped the door shut, effectively ending the conversation and neatly giving her the last word.

  Not that he cared. He pulled back into traffic, his mind firmly on the tasks that lay before him in the hours ahead. He hardly thought about what she'd said at all.

  What the hell did she know about it anyway? She was still single, focused intently on her career. They weren't so different. Except she still had hope for happily-ever-after.

  Well, she hadn't seen the ravages police work wreaked on marriages firsthand the way he had. And second and third hand. His own parents, his uncle and many of his squad had suffered, and it had been plenty ugly for all involved. He was just being smart by staying single. His life was plenty full without all that hoopla.

  He pulled into the lot behind the station house and walked to his desk and the pile of work that waited for him. Yeah, his life was plenty full.

  6

  "Did you see the headlines in today's papers?" Gina came sailing into Erin's office and plopped a thick stack of newspapers on her desk. " 'Sanderson Sells Sex on the Side'." She snorted. "More like, 'Sex Sells Newspapers.' Hypocrites."

  Erin groaned. It had been three days since her pizza-and-beer meeting with Brady. Three days of headlines screaming about Sanderson being tied in to a porn ring. Pitts had wasted no time. She hadn't heard from Brady, but she'd seen him on the news, ducking reporters on his way in and out of the station house and city hall. He was the hot target now that it was clear the mayor was making no further comments on the case, through her or anyone else.

  Which didn't mean her job for Henley had lightened up at all. She and Fletcher had been in lengthy meetings, and when they weren't meeting physically, they were on conference calls. She'd been busy working on press releases and radio spots that would be focusing on the mayor's campaign issues. And carefully skirting the support he'd gotten from Morton Sanderson.

  She was quickly discovering that getting people to talk about substantive election issues was much harder than getting people to not talk about sex and Morton Sanderson.

  "I'm beginning to wish I'd never taken on this job."

  "Bite your tongue. Our firm's name has been plastered in the papers for almost a week straight now."

  Erin eyed her balefully. "I'm not certain that's a plus."

  "What kind of public relations person are you?" Gina folded her arms. "The first thing they taught us was that any PR can be turned into good PR."

  "Well, I'm tired of finding ways to make this bad press look good. It all stinks, Gina. Even if it turns out Sanderson was murdered, it doesn't look like it's going to be because he was some kind of Boy Scout."

  "You don't know that. And you've done a good job of distancing the mayor from the matter." When Erin merely stared at her, she relented. "Okay, so the distance isn't that great yet, but you're working on it."

  Erin didn't want to talk about this anymore. She finally had two hours to work on anything else but the mayor, and she wasn't going to spend it talking about him. "Everything turn out all right with Tony?" she asked.

  Gina nodded, but blew out a long breath. "I swear, if the man gets that job in New York, it will be in spite of himself. He'd better send some business our way, because getting him that job will mostly be my doing." She brightened. "Speaking of that, we are getting some calls for work. Mostly political stuff."

  Erin groaned. "I think I'd rather work with the Tonys of the world than another politician."

  "You'll think differently when the money and referrals are coming in."

  Erin had to nod. "You're probably right. After all, how many politicians can there be connected to Asian-mob porn rings and with predilections for pink tutus and bustiers?"

  "Probably more than you'd like to know."

  They both laughed as Gina walked back to the door. "I've got a meeting with a councilman from one of the outlying districts this afternoon. He says his constituents think he's too stiff and starchy."

  "Well, if anyone can take the starch out of him, it's you, my friend."

  Gina gave a sassy wink. "You got that right, sister."

  Erin chuckled as the door clicked shut. Her smile faded as her gaze fell back on the pile of newspapers Gina had deposited on her desk. One by one she scooped them up and aimed them at her trash can. A photo below the fold on one of the papers caught her eye however.

  It was Brady, ducking into his cruiser. She smiled at the image. His expression made it clear he was not thrilled with being hounded. His jaw was set, his lips tight, eyes straight ahead. That was Brady. Eyes always straight ahead.

  She thought about their conversation just before she got out of his car the other night. His views on relationships and marriage were pretty hard-nosed, but she understood why he held them. She couldn't imagine being married to a guy whose work meant as much, if not more to him, than anything else. Including his wife and family.

  Still, she'd enjoyed working with him, helping him out, even as briefly as she had. Not that she had any burning desire to go into detective work, but she'd liked being involved, talking about it, theorizing. These past couple of days had been a nightmare of work for her, and yet she'd found herself thinking more than once about the pizza and beer they'd shared. She found herself wishing she could call him up and ask him to meet her at Jimmy's so they could talk over both of their situations. She could get his feedback on some of her ideas on how to help the mayor, and listen to what he'd come up with regarding the murder.

  She shook her head with a self-deprecating laugh. Who was she kidding? She wasn't thinking business, she was thinking romance. "Baaaad idea, Erin." Hell, Brady couldn't have been clearer on the issue of romance and his total disinterest in it. Actually, he'd been talking about marriage, not romance. But still, it was all the same.

  Wasn't it? One side of her brain parried with the other. What if she wasn't really talking about romance? What if she was strictly talking the physical side of a relationship? After all, that was what her hormones were really in a stir about anyway. Even if he was antimarriage, the man probably wasn't a monk, at least she couldn't imagine he was. He had to have some sort of release outside of work. She shivered a little at the word release. So, okay, she'd spent a teensy bit of time fantasizing about Detective Hunk. What red-blooded woman wouldn't? Besides, she deserved some form of entertainment after the days she'd put in, right?

  She should be working on a press release for an author who was doing a local morning talk show. And yet her mind wouldn't budge off of Brady.

  She wasn't a monk, either. Or a nun, or whatever. Didn't she deserve a release valve, too? Fantasizing was enjoyable enough, but it was no replacement for the real thing. And it had been a while since the real thing had been part of her life. Whoa, Erin. Stop right there. But she didn't want to stop there. She wanted…well, she wanted Brady. Not for life or anything. She grin
ned privately. Just for the night would be fine.

  There, she'd admitted it. And instead of sending her running in the opposite direction, she found the idea…compelling. Attractive even. Yes, there were definite risks, though she didn't think her heart, much less his, would be one of them. She respected him, and thought he felt the same. She was definitely attracted to him and felt pretty certain he was to her. He alternately intrigued and irritated her just often enough to keep it interesting without the threat of it getting too serious.

  Best of all; he had zero desire to have anything resembling a real relationship with anyone. And she wasn't really in the market for commitment either. In other words, they were the perfect couple. They could be each other's release valve.

  She looked at the computer screen and the font selection she was currently trying to decide on, but all she saw was the two of them, together…releasing each other. When she tried to type, her fingers slid on the keyboard. Her palms were actually damp. She finally gave up and closed her eyes. Could she go through with a plan like this? Did she dare?

  She opened her eyes and laughed at herself. Just what the hell did she think she was going to do? Logically outline the plan to Brady and expect him to calmly agree? Or simply invite him over for an evening of wine and a rousing bout of tension-releasing sex? Yeah, right.

  Or maybe she'd simply seduce him into saying yes?

  That stopped her cold. Sure, she'd used her femininity to get things done, but she was no femme fatale.

  A knock at her door had her jumping in her seat. She knew that knock.

  "Come in." She cleared her throat when that came out in a strangled whisper. "Come in, please."

  Brady popped the door open and stepped in. He looked much the same as he had in the newspaper picture. Five o'clock shadow, finger-combed hair, tense jaw. And that suit. She wondered if he simply slept in it so he'd always be ready when justice called, or if he bought his suits at Rumpled-R-Us. Oddly, the look worked for him. Added to his rugged, roguish allure.

  "Something amusing?"

  She shook her head, wishing he couldn't read her so easily. But any lingering plans for seduction were firmly pushed aside as well. What had she been thinking anyway? This was a man who thought only of police work with every breath he took. If she so much as mentioned her release-valve idea to him he'd probably be shocked, then laugh himself sick. Thank God she'd come back to her senses.

  "What brings you here?" she asked, proud of her brisk, businesslike tone. She would not, under any circumstances, allow herself to picture the two of them naked, entwined and…releasing. Absolutely not.

  "You have a few minutes?" His voice was as endearingly rough and rumpled as the rest of him.

  She had to purposefully ignore the urge to clench her thighs together against the ache that seemed to plague her every time he was around. "Find out something new to torture me and the mayor with?"

  Brady didn't smile at her jibe. In fact, he looked more serious than she ever recalled seeing him. Which was really saying something for super cop here.

  Erin forgot all about clenching thighs and release valves. Frowning, she propped her elbows on her desk. "What happened?"

  He crossed the room and sank heavily into the chair.

  Uh-oh. This didn't look good. When he didn't say anything right off, she gave him a minute or two, but finally said, "Just spit it out, for God's sake."

  Brady looked at her, then looked away, then finally heaved a sigh and looked back at her again. "Sanderson's death was a homicide. I just got the labs back."

  "So the heart attack wasn't natural causes?"

  He shook his head.

  "You suspected this all along though, right? So, what's wrong?"

  "It took a while for them to trace it. A little-known pharmaceutical was introduced into his system. It acts like digitalis."

  She had no idea what he was getting at. "And?"

  "This particular pharmaceutical is actually more like a medicinal herb. Rare and not much is known about its properties in the United States. It's typically imported."

  Her shoulders drooped. "Let me guess. Asia."

  "Got it in one."

  "So have you brought the Hans in for questioning?"

  "Right now we can't make any connection between them and Sanderson. Other than their daughter and son-in-law owned a business he eventually bought. The daughter and son-in-law have apparently severed all ties with their family. At least businesswise. And we have no links at all direct from Sanderson to the Han empire or even to the Hans privately, separate from any business relationship. Other than buying their son-in-law's business, Sanderson apparently never dealt in any way with the Han family."

  "So now what?"

  Looking thoroughly frustrated, he shrugged. "We keep digging. My gut tells me this is the right path. That Morton was tied into them in some way, a way that led to him ending up dead. There was no sexual activity, so the scene was intended to humiliate him after his death."

  "Like killing him wasn't bad enough?"

  Brady shook his head. "You see, that's part of the culture, too. At least in some segments of it anyway, personal humiliation can be considered an even greater shame than a dishonorable death."

  "And you're betting the Hans share that belief?"

  "Yes, I am. But that's not enough to hang anything more than an instinct and suspicion on. I have to have more than that to bring them in."

  "So you have questioned them."

  "At length. It was part of the investigation. They weren't brought in as suspects. People aren't as forthcoming if they think they're suspects."

  "They must have thought it curious they were being questioned."

  "They thought we were merely checking into all of Sanderson's businesses. Of course, they knew we'd be somewhat suspicious of any link to them due to their rumored connection to the Asian mob scene."

  "So did they seem nervous or anything?"

  He shook his head. "No, but that's not surprising. They know we don't have anything concrete."

  "Do they know you traced the herb or whatever was used to kill Sanderson?"

  Again he shook his head. "We are trying to find something that would tie them directly to access to that herb. But while it's relatively uncommon, it's sold in some Asian marketplaces, including several in this city. We have people working on that right now." His fingers curled into fists. "But I know this is the path. I've just got to find the link, the proof."

  Erin leaned back in her chair, somewhat awed by the task he took on every day. That of standing up for justice, digging up the dirt, finding the bad guy. Being responsible for making sure someone paid for the wrongs done.

  "What did the mayor say about this development?" she asked.

  "Nothing. He doesn't know the details, only that we've confirmed Sanderson's death as a homicide. The commissioner is playing this one close. We won't risk a leak this time."

  "So why tell me?"

  He looked at her, then down at his hands. "Yeah, well."

  She waited, but he didn't say anything else. Then she realized why he'd been so reluctant moments ago. She stood and came around in front of her desk. Leaning back against it, she folded her arms. "You need my help again, right? Well, I hate to let you down when it obviously cost you to come here, but I don't have any connections in that sector at all." She smiled. "I mean, some of my clients have had problems with pharmaceuticals, but I don't think that will help you out much in this case."

  After a moment, Brady stood and headed for the door. "This was a bad idea."

  Totally confused now, Erin called out, "Wait a minute. What was that all about?"

  He stopped, but it was a moment before he turned back to her. When he did, he simply held her gaze, and continued to do so for the longest time. The tension in the room climbed steadily as the seconds ticked away.

  "Brady?" she asked uncertainly. It might be her earlier thoughts playing mind tricks on her, but the tension between them right now felt dec
idedly…nonbusinesslike.

  "I must be crazy," he finally murmured.

  She took a step closer, needing to see his eyes. What she saw in them stopped her in her tracks. Wow. So. Okay. As it turned out, it wasn't her mind playing tricks on her after all.

  She took a shaky breath. "What makes you think you're crazy?"

  He stood absolutely still. But his gaze was an active, live thing, reaching out, touching her. Rocking her. How had she ever thought there would be anything remotely safe about playing with Brady?

  "I'm here, aren't I?" he said roughly.

  "And?"

  "I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be out there." He didn't look away, he didn't so much as blink. "But I came here."

  "Yeah, yeah, you did," she said softly. Erin began to tremble. "Why?"

  "I wish I knew."

  So he hadn't come by to ask her for help. He'd just…come by. She forced her feet to move, to take that step. "I think maybe you have an idea." And she saw, very clearly, that he absolutely had an idea. She didn't know whether to reach for it…or run like hell.

  "Yeah. Maybe I do." He watched her take another step closer. "It's a bad idea, Erin."

  "Possibly."

  "I should go. Now."

  She walked closer. "Probably."

  "I should be working."

  "Absolutely." She stopped just in front of him. The tension was all but leaping from him, clawing at her. "But you're not."

  He shook his head. "No. No, I'm not."

  She closed that last inch between them. "Then just what are you doing, Brady?"

  "Losing the rest of my mind." He all but growled the words. Then he kicked the door shut behind him and reached for her.

  7

  Brady knew he'd regret this. But right now he didn't give a damn. His hands were on Erin Mahoney. Heaven help him.

  She moved fluidly into his arms. Her lips were a fiery blast that branded him clear to his toes. And her taste…dear God, but he'd never known sin had a flavor.