Except for once a year on birthdays, there'd been no special attention given to each individual child. They'd been dealt with as a whole. A clan. Most of his brothers and sisters had loved growing up in such a large family. They'd felt a bond, a special closeness with the other siblings. Not Kevin. He'd just felt invisible. He'd hated that.
All of his life, he'd worked hard. Before school, after school, and all summer long. Nothing had been given to him except hand-me-down clothes and a new pair of shoes every fall. He still worked hard, but now he enjoyed himself a hell of a lot more. And if there were things he wanted but couldn't obtain the money for through legal enterprise, there were other ways. There were always other ways.
Money was power. Absolutely. Without it a man was worse than nothing. He was invisible.
Chapter Six
Floating on a clear blow-up raft in the middle of her backyard kiddie pool, Gabrielle finally found the inner peace she'd sought all day. Shortly after she'd returned from her shop that afternoon, she'd filled the pool and pulled on her silver bikini. The pool was ten feet across and three feet deep and had orange and blue jungle animals circling the outside. Wildflowers, rose petals, and lemon slices drifted on the surface of the water, soothing away her nervous tension with the scent of flowers and citrus. Clearing her head completely of Joe was impossible, of course, but she did succeed in absorbing enough positive energy from the universe to push him to the back of her mind.
Today was the first opportunity she'd had to test her sunscreen, and she'd rubbed her exposed skin with the blended oils of sesame, wheat germ, and lavender. The lavender had been a last-minute inspiration, a sort of hedge bet. Lavender didn't have screening properties, but it did have healing characteristics, in case she did burn. And also, the perfumed scent covered the smell of seeds so she wouldn't attract the unwanted attention of hungry birds in search of a feeder.
Periodically, she lifted an edge of her bathing suit and checked her tan. Throughout the afternoon, her skin bronzed nicely without a hint of pink.
At five-thirty, her friend Francis Hall-Valento-Mazzoni, now just Hall once again, stopped by to present Gabrielle with a red lace thong and matching bra. Francis owned Naughty or Nice, the lingerie shop half a block from Anomaly, and she often dropped by with her latest inventory of crotchless underwear or sheer nightgowns. Gabrielle didn't have the heart to tell her friend that she wasn't into racy undies. Consequently, most of the gifts ended up in a box in Gabrielle's closet. Francis was blond and blue-eyed, thirty-one, and twice divorced. She'd been in more relationships than she cared to remember, and believed most problems between men and women could be solved with a pair of licorice panties.
"How's that skin toner I made for you working out?" Gabrielle directed the question toward her friend, who sat in a wicker chair beneath the porch awning.
"Better than the oatmeal mask or PMS oil."
Gabrielle skimmed her fingers across the top of the water, disturbing the rose petals and wildflowers. She wondered if her treatments or Francis's impatience were at fault. Francis was always looking for the quick fix. The easiest answer, never bothering to search her own soul and find inner peace and happiness within. As a result, her life was always in crisis. She was a magnet for loser men and had more issues than a magazine rack. Francis also had qualities Gabrielle admired. She was funny and bright, went after what she wanted, and had a pure heart.
"I haven't talked to you for awhile. Not since last week when you thought some big guy with dark hair was following you."
For the first time in over an hour; Gabrielle thought of Detective Joe Shanahan. She thought of his intrusion in her life and the bad karma she'd accumulated thanks to him. He was domineering and rude and filled with so much testosterone that a five o'clock shadow darkened his cheeks at four-fifteen. And when he kissed, his aura turned the deepest red of any man she'd ever known.
She thought of telling Francis about the morning she'd pulled a derringer on an undercover cop and ended up as his confidential informant. But this was too huge a secret to tell.
Gabrielle shaded her eyes with her hand and looked over at her friend. She'd never been any good at keeping secrets. "If I tell you something, you have to promise not to tell," she began, then proceeded to squeal like a jailhouse rat. She hit the high points, but purposely left out the disturbing details, like the fact that he had the hard, rippling muscles of an underwear model and kissed like a man who could seduce even the most frigid woman out of her support hose. "Joe Shanahan is overbearing and rude, and I'm stuck with him until Kevin's cleared of this whole ridiculous nonsense," she finished, feeling purged. For once, Gabrielle's problems were bigger than her friend's.
Francis was silent for a moment, then murmured, "Hmm." She pushed a pair of rose-colored sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. "So, what does this guy look like?"
Gabrielle turned her face to the sun. She closed her eyes and saw Joe's face, his intense eyes and spiky lashes, the sensual lines of his mouth, and the perfect symmetry of his wide forehead, straight nose, and strong chin. His thick brown hair tended to curl about his ears and the back of his neck, softening his powerful, masculine features. He smelled wonderful. "Nothing special."
"That's too bad. If I were forced to work with a cop, I'd want one of those beefcake-calendar boys."
Which, Gabrielle supposed, pretty much described Joe.
"I'd make him carry heavy boxes and get all sweaty," Francis continued with the fantasy.
"And I'd watch his buns of steel when he bent over."
Gabrielle frowned. "Well, I look at a man's soul. His appearance is unimportant."
"You know what? I've heard you say that before, and if it's true, then why didn't you sleep with your old boyfriend Harold Maddox?"
Francis had a point, but no way was Gabrielle going to admit looks were as important as the essence of a man's soul. They weren't. A mentally developed enlightened man was so much sexier than a cave dweller. Problem was, that physical attraction thing sometimes got in the way. "I had my reasons."
"Yeah, like he was boring and had a scraggly ponytail and everyone mistook him for your dad."
"He wasn't that old."
"Whatever you say."
Gabrielle could make a few comments about Francis's choice of men and husbands but chose not to.
"I'm not all that surprised Kevin is a suspect," Francis said. "He can be a weasel."
Gabrielle looked across at her friend and frowned. Francis and Kevin had dated for a short time, and now the two of them had a sort of love-hate relationship. Gabrielle had never asked why or what had happened; she didn't want to know. "You're only saying that because you don't like him."
"Maybe, but promise me you'll keep your eyes open anyway. You put too much blind trust in your friends." Francis stood and straightened her sundress.
Gabrielle didn't think she gave blind trust, but she believed the trust she gave was the trust she received. If she didn't give it freely, she wouldn't get it back. "Are you leaving?"
"Yeah, I got a date with a plumber. Should prove interesting. He's got a great body, but he doesn't say much. If he isn't too boring, I'll let him take me home and show me his monkey wrench."
Gabrielle purposely didn't comment on that last remark. "Could you hit play on my tape recorder?" she asked and pointed to the old cassette player sitting on a wicker table.
"I don't know how you can listen to this crap."
"You should try it. You might find the meaning of life."
"Yeah well, I'd rather listen to Aerosmith. Steven Tyler gives my life meaning."
"Dream On."
"Ha ha," Francis said, and the slamming of the back screen door signaled her departure. Gabrielle checked her tan line for signs of burning, then closed her eyes and contemplated her connection in the universe. She sought answers. Answers to the questions she didn't understand. Like why fate had determined Joe should enter her life with the force of a cosmic tornado.
Joe tossed his cigarette into a rhod
odendron bush, then raised his hand to the heavy wooden door. Just as he knocked, it opened, and a woman with short blond hair and glossy pink lips stared at him from behind a pair of rose-colored sunglasses. Even though he'd watched this address for weeks, he stepped back and looked at the bright red street numbers tacked to the side of the house. "I'm looking for Gabrielle Breedlove," he said.
"You must be Joe."
Surprised, his gaze returned to the woman before him.
Behind the lenses of her sunglasses, her blue eyes slid down his chest. "She told me you're her boyfriend, but she obviously left out a lot." She raised her gaze to his face and smiled. "I wonder why she left out the good stuff?"
Joe wondered exactly what his informant had said about him. He had a few other questions he wanted to ask her as well, but that wasn't the only reason he needed to see her. He'd never worked with anyone as uptight and hostile as Gabrielle, and he feared she might flip on him completely and blow his cover. He needed her calm and cooperative. No more scenes. No more placing herself between him and his new buddy, Kevin. "Where is Gabrielle?"
"In the pool in the backyard." She stepped outside and shut the door behind her. "Come on. I'll show you." She escorted him to the side of the house and pointed toward a tall fence covered in climbing roses. An arch with an open gate divided the fence in two sections.
"Through there." The woman pointed, then turned to leave.
Joe walked under the arch and took two full steps before stopping in his tracks. The backyard was filled with a profusion of color and fragrant flowers. And Gabrielle Breedlove floating in a kiddie wading pool. His gaze took her in all at once, but his attention was drawn to the belly ring he'd felt while frisking her a few days before. He'd never been partial to women with body piercings, but… damn. That little ring of silver made his mouth dry.
Her hand brushed the top of the water, and she rubbed her wet fingers over her abdomen. Several droplets drifted across her stomach and her sides. One clear drop caught a ray of sunlight as it slid slowly down her belly and disappeared into her navel. His insides got all itchy and hot, and desire pulled in his groin. He stood with his feet rooted to the lawn, growing hard and heavy, powerless to control the unwelcome thoughts that assaulted him. Thoughts of walking into that pool, wrapping his arms around her waist and sucking that droplet of water from her navel, then dipping his tongue inside and licking her warm flesh. He tried to remind himself that she was crazy, nutty, cuckoo, but after nine hours, he still remembered the soft texture of her lips pressed against his.
That kiss had been part of his job, to shut her up before she blew his cover. His body had responded, of course, and he hadn't been surprised by his reaction to the taste of her warm mouth and the closeness of her breasts, but he'd made a big mistake with her. He'd slipped his tongue in her mouth, and now he knew she tasted a little like peppermint and a lot like passion. He knew the soft tangle of her hair around his fingers and knew she smelled like exotic flowers. She hadn't pushed him away or resisted, and her response had reached down and grabbed him by the curlies. He'd gone from semi to hard in about two seconds. He'd barely managed to stay in control. Barely managed to keep his hands from sliding down and filling his palms with her breasts. He was a cop, but he was also a man.
Standing in her backyard with his gaze slipping to the little triangle of silver material covering her crotch and his thoughts sliding to what lay beneath had nothing to do with being a cop and everything to do with being a man. His gaze moved to the little mole on the inside of her right thigh, down her long legs to her purple toenails, then back up past that silver belly ring to her bikini top. A wide seam ran across her nipples, and the tight top pushed up two mounds of perfect, tan breasts. The ground beneath his feet shifted, seeming to change and fall out from underneath him, sucking him down. She was his informant. She was nuts. She was also extremely fine, and he wanted nothing more than to peel away that bikini like a tinfoil snack pack and dive face first into her cleavage.
His gaze moved to the hollow of her throat, past her chin, to her full mouth. He watched her lips move and, for the first time since he'd set foot in the backyard, he became aware of a tranquil male voice saying something about a cave. "This is your cave," the man droned as if he'd popped Seconal. "This is your place. A place where you can truly find yourself, where you come to find your center. Take a deep breath… bring your awareness into your abdomen…
"Let it go and repeat after me…I am at peace… Ohm-Nah-Mah-Shee-Vah-Yahh… Hmm."
The ground beneath his feet shifted back, becoming solid once more. Suddenly, everything was all right again in Joe Shanahan's world. Stable. He was okay. She was still crazy, and nothing had changed. He felt an overwhelming urge to laugh, like he'd just cheated death. "I should have known you'd listen to Yanni," he said loud enough to be heard over the tape.
Gabrielle's eyes flew open, and she sat up. The clear raft tipped, and Joe watched her legs and arms flail as she tumbled into the water. When she came back up, pink and red rose petals were stuck to her hair. She sat on the bottom of the pool while lemon slices and wildflowers floated about her.
"What are you doing here?" she sputtered.
"We need to talk," he answered through a smile he tried, and failed, to suppress.
"I don't have anything to say to you."
"Then you can listen." He moved toward the tape player by the back door. "First we need to get rid of Yanni."
"I don't listen to Yanni. That's meditation with raja yoga."
"Uh-huh." He hit the off button and turned to face her.
Water slid down her body as she stood, and a sprig of purple flowers stuck out of the top of her bikini. "This is so typical." She pulled her hair over one shoulder and squeezed the water out of it. "I just find my peaceful center and then you barge into my yard and ruin my balance."
Joe didn't figure she'd ever had more than a passing acquaintance with anything resembling balance. He picked up a white bath towel hanging across a wicker chair and walked to the edge of the pool. But it didn't matter if she had a mental imbalance. He was stuck posing as her boyfriend, but for the past two days, she'd behaved as if he were as welcome as a plague. Kevin might not be suspicious now, but Joe couldn't keep passing off her hostile behavior as nothing more than jealousy and menstrual cramps. "Maybe we can work on it," he said and handed her the towel.
Her hands stilled, and she stared at him, distrust narrowing her green eyes. "Work on what?" She took the towel and stepped out of the pool.
"How we deal with each other. I know you think I'm your enemy, but I'm not." Although he didn't trust his informant out of his sight, he needed her to trust him. He was responsible for her safety, and part of his job was to protect her-physically.
He couldn't protect her if she ran to Kevin if things got ugly. He didn't really think Kevin would hurt Gabrielle, but if there was one thing he'd come to anticipate, it was the unexpected. That way he was never caught with his pants down around his ankles. "You need to let me do my job. The sooner I get what I need, the sooner I'll be out of your life. We need to come to some sort of an agreement."
She patted her face and neck with the towel and plucked the purple flowers from her bikini. "You mean a compromise?"
Not hardly. He'd meant she needed to stop acting so neurotic and start behaving like she was hot for him. No more calling him a demon from hell. "Sure."
She studied him and tossed the sprig of flowers back into the pool. "How?"
"Well first, you need to calm down and stop acting like the swat team is about to bust through the front window of your store."
"And second?"
"Neither of us may like it, but you're supposed to be my girlfriend. Quit acting like I'm a serial killer."
As she patted the tops of her breasts with the towel, he purposely kept his eyes pinned to her face. No way was he going to lower his gaze and get sucked into fantasy land again.
"And if I do?" she asked. "What are you going to do fo
r me?"
"Make sure you aren't implicated-"
"Uh-uh." She shook her head and wrapped the towel around her waist. "That threat doesn't scare me anymore, since I don't believe Kevin is guilty."
Joe shifted his weight to one foot and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew the drill. This was the part where informants tried to shake him down for money, or wanted all their unpaid parking tickets to disappear quicker than a dime bag in rehab, or maybe get a badge of their very own. "What do you want?"
"I want you to keep an open mind. Don't just assume Kevin's guilty."
The unpaid parking tickets would have been easier. There wasn't a doubt in Joe's mind that Kevin Carter was as guilty as sin, but part of being an undercover cop was having a God-given talent to pass off boldfaced lies without a flicker of remorse. "Sure. I'll keep an open mind."
"Really?"
He relaxed the corners of his mouth and slanted her his I'm-your-buddy smile. "Absolutely."
She stared into his eyes as if she were trying to read the back of his brain. "Your nose is growing. Officer Shanahan."
His smile turned genuine. She was crazy, not stupid. He'd had enough experience to know the difference, and given a choice, he'd prefer crazy over stupid any day. He raised his hands, palms up. "I can try," he said and lowered his arms to his sides. "How's that?"
She sighed and tied a knot in the towel over her left hip. "I guess if that's the best you can do, it will have to be good enough." She turned toward the house, then looked back at him over her shoulder. "Have you eaten dinner yet?"
"No." He'd figured he'd stop at the grocery store on the way home and pick up some chicken for him and some carrots for Sam.
"I'm going to make dinner. You can stay if you want." Her tone was less than enthusiastic.
"Are you inviting me to have dinner with you? Like a real girlfriend?"
"I'm hungry and you haven't eaten." She shrugged and headed toward the back door. "Let's just leave it at that."
His gaze followed the waves in her wet hair and the droplets of water dripping from the ends and sliding down her spine. "Can you cook?"
It Must Be Love Page 8
