Rocky Mountain Maneuvers

by Cassie Miles

  “No real relationship. It’s all about money.” Ronald struck a studied pose, hiding again behind his chatty persona. “Now I know who you are. Molly’s boss. The director of Colorado Crime Consultants.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Love your work,” Ronald said with fake enthusiasm. “You were involved with catching that serial killer, the one who arranged all his victims like mermaids. And, of course, the Carrington affair with that poor girl who hid out in the woods for a month.”

  “You did photos at the Carrington wedding,” Molly said. “But I didn’t see you there.”

  “Honey, when I’m working, I’m invisible.”

  “You? That’s hard to believe.”

  “I fade into the woodwork. Nobody notices me at all. But that wasn’t the case at the Carrington wedding. I didn’t do candids at that reception.”

  “This weekend,” she said, “you’ll be doing candids at the Brown Palace wedding.”

  “That’s what it says in my contract.” He reached into his van, pulled out an eight-by-ten brown envelope and handed it to her. “Here are the pictures for the Deitrich wedding reception. The ones you wanted. Now, I really have to run.”

  When Ronald tried to pull the van door closed, Adam braced his hand against it. He wasn’t ready to let this guy off the hook. “I heard you were in prison.”

  “That’s right,” Ronald said. “I paid my debt to society.”

  “Do you keep in touch with your old inmates?”

  “Only if they’re getting married,” Ronald said.

  “Because then they would pay you. It’s all about money.”

  “Makes the world go around.” Ronald twirled his finger in a circle.

  “A professional photographer has other skills,” Adam said. “You could make phony IDs. Passports. Maybe even try your hand at counterfeiting.”

  “Not my style.”

  Style was an important consideration. The person who attacked Pierce and Molly used a knife. Not a gun. Not their fists.

  Forensic profilers had told Adam that knives were most often the weapon of choice for women. Assault with a blade was more personal. “When you were in prison,” Adam said, “did you learn to handle a shiv?”

  “If you’re referring to some sort of handmade blade, I think not. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  “And you’re an artist,” Adam said. “A temperamental artist with marketable criminal talents.”

  He could see the rage building in Ronald. His smooth complexion flushed red. He blinked rapidly. When he tried a dismissive chuckle, the sound was brittle. “I really must go.”

  Not without a final warning. “You know my reputation,” Adam said. “CCC has a high rate of success in closing cases.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “You should also hear this. Molly is under my protection. Come after her, and you’ll be dealing with me.”

  Adam stepped away from the van, allowing Ronald to slide the panel door shut. Stiffly, the handsome photographer circled around his van to the driver’s side door.

  “See you this weekend at the Brown Palace wedding,” Molly called out.

  Ronald paused. Staring at Molly, he took a breath as if he were about to say something important. Then his lips clamped shut.

  Molly asked, “Ronald, is there something you wanted to tell me.”

  “It’s nothing.” He waved farewell and got into his van. “Ta, sweetie.”

  As he drove away, Molly came toward Adam. He expected her to be ticked off about the way he’d treated this guy who lavished compliments on her. Instead, she said, “You saw something dangerous in Ronald.”

  “Sure, I did. Anybody who’s been in jail needs a second look. Besides, he’s on your short list of suspects.”

  “That’s just on paper. And that was when I was thinking about the magpie thefts. I could see Ronald swiping a couple of shiny objects, almost as a joke. But stabbing Pierce in the back?”

  “Given the right motivation,” he said, “anybody is capable of violence.”

  “Ronald couldn’t have come after me last night because I talked to him on the phone right before I left the office and went into the parking lot.”

  “Cell phone,” Adam pointed out. “Call forwarding.”

  “I didn’t think of that. He could have been on his cell phone, sitting outside the building. Waiting. Lurking.” She stamped her foot. “Why didn’t that occur to me? Why am I so bad at reading people?”

  Adam saw two answers. The first was a positive quality: her tendency to see the good in others. The second was annoying. “You can’t read Ronald because you like him.”

  “True.”

  Adam thought that if he were more like Ronald, he’d have reached out and patted her shoulder. He’d pull her into his arms and gently stroke her shoulders, comforting her. But he’d never been a hands-on guy. Those who invaded his personal space were more likely to receive a karate chop to the throat than a hug. He kept his distance, even from Molly.

  “I really do like Ronald,” she said.

  Inwardly, he snarled. But he kept his voice calm. “I can see that.”

  “I’d love to see him when he’s all dolled up in his drag queen outfit. I’ll bet he’s spectacular.”

  “He’s gay?”

  “Duh.” She started toward his car then suddenly halted and threw up her hands. “I can’t believe this. I left my purse in the church.”

  Ronald was gay. He wasn’t a threat…at least not in the sense Adam expected. The handsome Ronald wasn’t somebody Molly would date unless she wanted to compare wardrobes.

  “Are you sure he’s gay?” Adam asked as he held open the wooden door to the church. “He wants you to come in for a sitting to do porn photos.”

  “Artsy baloney,” she said.

  Inside the quiet sanctuary, she grabbed her purse from a back pew, slung the strap over her shoulder and turned toward the altar. For a moment, she stood quietly.

  Adam stepped up beside her. He thought of placing his arm around her waist. Behind her back, he reached out. Then his hand dropped. If he touched her once, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

  “This is a pretty church,” she said. “Simple. It would be a nice place for my wedding if I was really getting married.”

  The wistful tone in her voice kept him from making a snide comment about fake fiancés and undercover brides. During the past few days, he’d come to realize that all this wedding madness held a bizarre grip on women—all women, including Molly who was usually down-to-earth. When she talked about the ceremony and the dress and all that other stuff, her eyes glazed over and she fell into a trance state.

  She took a graceful step down the center aisle between the pews. “I’ve been doing all this research on weddings. People spend thousands of dollars decorating the church with flowers and ribbons. Sometimes, live trees.”

  What a waste! But Adam held his tongue.

  She took another step. “I think I’d like roses in my bouquet. Or maybe lilies.”

  Her chin lifted as she gazed toward the simple altar. Light from the stained glass windows shone gently upon her face. “When I tried on that gown at Gloria’s boutique, I felt amazing. Special.”

  Adam realized that he was walking beside her, making an impromptu march down the aisle. Wasn’t this the traditional position of the father of the bride? The man who would give Molly away?

  Damn it, that wasn’t his job. If anybody was going to marry Molly, it was him. He stepped in front of her, unable to hold his silence for one more moment. “It’s all a show. All these preparations. The roses. The gowns. The fancy little sandwiches. What difference does it make? The most expensive wedding ceremony in the world can’t guarantee a good marriage.”

  “How would you know?” Molly shot back. “You’re like me. Married once, too young. And it was a mess.”

  “I know what it takes to have a good relationship,” he said. “Mutual respect. Tolerance. Good conversation.”

 
“You’re talking about a partnership,” she said.

  “You’re right.” That was the relationship he’d had with her. Partners. Co-workers.

  “And you’re forgetting the most important thing about a marriage.”

  Her blue eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. He knew her face as well as he knew his own. Almost every day for seven years, he’d seen that face. That smile. That dimple at the corner of her full lips.

  He knew she was a beautiful woman. Yet he’d never been affected by her charms until she’d been in danger and he realized he might lose her. He couldn’t imagine his life without Molly. Tell her. Let her know how much she means to you.

  Standing here, in the center of this peaceful church, he was racked with inner turmoil. His heartbeat accelerated. His blood raced through his veins. He was dizzy with the need to touch her.

  “Love,” she said softly. “The most important part of a true marriage is love.”

  Unable to resist, he leaned toward her. His intention was to kiss her forehead, to ease gently into what might be a new phase in their partnership. As he drew closer, he couldn’t hold back. She was too tempting, too enticing. His arms encircled her. His mouth claimed hers.

  Time stopped. Adam was transported as he pulled her close. No longer thinking of what was right and prudent, he gave himself entirely to their kiss.

  Beneath the fuzzy texture of her purple and red striped sweater, he felt her slender, supple body. Her sweet softness aroused him. He’d been waiting for this moment. Perhaps all his life.

  Her arms tightened around him, encouraging him. Though his shoulder holster got in the way, she pressed tightly against him, and he knew that she wanted this closeness as much as he did.

  Her lips parted. Her tongue met his as he penetrated through her teeth to the satin interior of her mouth. Oh, Molly. Why did I wait so long?

  MOLLY CLUNG to him. Her eyes were closed. Her knees were weak. Why had he waited so long for this kiss? For seven years, she’d known Adam—a very long time for the sexual tension to build. And she hadn’t even been aware of it. She’d been unconsciously holding her breath, waiting to exhale.

  She moved her body against him, loving the way his wiry, muscular length fit perfectly with her. The way he held her showed his strength and authority. Adam always did everything well. Even a kiss.

  When she felt him pulling away, she tightened her grasp. She didn’t want this moment to end. She wanted to go on kissing him for all eternity.

  His lips separated from hers. No! Not yet!

  She kept her eyes closed, afraid to open them and face him. Would he look different to her? Would she see regret in his eyes? Had this kiss been a mistake?

  “Molly?” His deep baritone voice was a caress. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. The first words that she spoke to him after this life-changing kiss ought to be significant.

  He asked, “Do you want to sit down?”

  In the back of her mind, she remembered that they were in a church. She ought to kneel in the pew and offer thanks for this unexpected blessing. Was that sacrilegious? Maybe so. She wasn’t thinking clearly.

  Her eyelids pried open, and she gazed full into his face. His features hadn’t changed. But everything was different. Her perception of him was more finely tuned. She could read his emotions. He was excited. And doubtful. And cautious.

  Not knowing what to say, she stepped away from his embrace. Her throat tightened. She couldn’t swallow. For Pete’s sake, this was Adam! How could she feel uncomfortable around him?

  “Possibly,” he said, “I might have chosen a better venue for this moment.”

  “Really?” Her tone was flippant. Her comment was pure reflex. “Are you telling me that making out in a church isn’t your style?”

  “Not as a rule.”

  “You be sure to give me a copy of that particular rule book. The one with proper venues for red-hot kisses.”

  She bit her tongue. Molly hadn’t wanted to be snippy. She should have found something meaningful to say.

  “Red-hot?”

  “Totally steamy,” she said.

  “Then I can assume that it was good for you.”

  He was smiling. His blue eyes twinkled. It almost seemed as if they had slipped back into their regular pattern, that the kiss never happened. “We should go. We have a lot to do today.”

  She stalked toward the door and flung it open. Outside, the midday sunlight shone warmly on the faded grass. The crisp autumn breeze combed through her hair. The birds and squirrels still twittered in the treetops.

  It was the same old world. But she knew in her heart that everything was different. Immeasurably so.

  Chapter Twelve

  On the car ride to the hospital to visit Pierce, Molly chatted desperately. She read the road signs and pointed out obvious views and commented endlessly about the weather. Was it hot? Was it cold? When did Adam think the first snow would come?

  She even turned on the car radio and sang along. It was necessary, absolutely necessary, to fill the air space between her and Adam with trivia so she wouldn’t have to face the true meaning of their kiss.

  By the time they reached the hospital, she had run out of diversions. In the middle of the lobby, where patients sat waiting in rows of chairs and personnel in scrubs hurried toward important destinations, she came to a dead halt. “Adam, we need to talk about that kiss.”

  He arched an eyebrow. His gaze was cool. “Go ahead.”

  Where to start? “Our working relationship,” she said. “It’s good. Right? We complement each other. We’re professionals. And I don’t want to lose that.”

  “Me, neither.”

  “Excellent.” They were on the same page. “Therefore, I think we should forget that kiss ever happened. Erase it.”

  “If that’s what you want,” he said.

  But his eyes had begun to heat up. He drew her toward him like a hapless moth to a hundred-watt bulb.

  She gestured helplessly. “I mean, I have other things to worry about.”

  “Like figuring out who attacked Pierce.”

  “You bet.”

  “And the fact that someone wants to kill you.”

  “That, too.” Her priorities were seriously out of whack; she was more concerned about a kiss than mortal danger. Loss of life seemed less important than a broken heart.

  “I understand, Molly.”

  “We will never speak of that kiss again.” She stuck out her hand. “Shake on it.”

  As soon as she touched his hand, her resolve washed away in a crashing tidal wave of unexpected emotion. Spontaneous excitement churned and eddied inside her.

  Before she knew what she was doing, she’d flung her arm around his neck. She was kissing him! Again!

  This was wrong, wrong, wrong.

  But it felt so good, good, good.

  The hustle and bustle of the hospital faded away, and she was aware only of him. He clasped her waist and pulled her closer. Her body fitted against his like a hand in a smooth leather glove.

  Reluctantly, she loosened her grip. She broke away from him and took a step backward. She was happy and excited and humiliated all at the same time. “Apparently, I need to work on impulse control.”

  “Not on my account,” Adam said. “Anytime you want to kiss me, go right ahead.”

  This certainly hadn’t turned out the way she expected. Now what? She remembered one of his strate gies: when you’re in a situation you can’t win, retreat. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

  Following the signs, she fled to the public bathroom. Dodging around a mother washing her daughter’s hands, Molly went into a stall and locked the door behind her. The inside of her head throbbed from all her chatter. And then she’d kissed him.

  Quite obviously, she was insane. There was no way Adam could have romantic feelings for her. She’d always known that he liked her…but not that way. They were friends. Partners. Adam was her boss, her mentor, the guy who put her
on the straight and narrow, the man whose respect she was always trying to earn.

  Sure, she’d imagined what it would be like to be Adam’s mate. But she wasn’t his Eve, and they didn’t live in Eden. Such a relationship was impossible. They were too different.

  She was a former street kid—a screwup who got an undeniable thrill from picking pockets. She loved flash and excitement and parties.

  Adam was an introvert. He lived at the opposite end of the spectrum. His attitudes gave new meaning to the word “rigid.” He followed every prescribed regulation and made up new rules for situations when they didn’t exist. He was punctual to the second, utterly controlled, competent, reliable…but not boring. Never boring. He had a wry sense of humor, and she knew—above all—that she could count on him. He’d never let her down. He was a good man. The best.

  She dragged out a sheet of toilet paper and blew her nose. Good grief, she couldn’t start crying. Tears would make everything worse. Oh, God! Pull yourself together, Molly.

  She left the stall and went to the mirror. There were three other women in the public bathroom, washing their hands and checking their reflections. Molly set her purse on the sink and opened it. What she needed was lipstick. If she put on a fresh new face, she might find her self-respect.

  At the top of her purse was a sheet of white paper, folded twice to letter size. It hadn’t been there before. Though her purse was large, the contents were well organized.

  She opened the paper and read the typed note, all in capital letters. “DANGER. DANGER. DANGER. THE CRIME IS SET. SATURDAY PM.”

  Today was Thursday. Heidi’s wedding was Saturday.

  Molly’s hand trembled and the paper fluttered. This note was the answer she’d been waiting for. Something bad was going to happen. And she knew when.

  She tore out of the bathroom. Across the crowded hospital lobby, she spotted Adam leaning against a marble column. He was an island of calm in the nervous hospital atmosphere.

  She raced up to him, waving the note. “I found this. In my purse.”