Touch of Red

by Laura Griffin

  Sean sighed. Between the incomplete answers and the generalizations, they were talking in circles. Farrah glanced at her watch, and Sean felt a surge of impatience.

  “Let me be straight with you, Farrah. I need names.”

  “And as I told you—”

  “Off the record. I’m not asking you to testify in court here. I’m asking for a lead. Can you think of anyone in Sam’s life—past or present—who might have been a problem for her?”

  Farrah looked blank.

  “Or not a problem. Maybe just a man in her life who was in the background?”

  Sean was grasping at straws now. But much of Samantha Bonner’s life was a mystery to him, and her caseworker was one of the few people who had any real information.

  “There’s no one I can think of offhand. I could look back through her case file. But like I alluded to before, the person who abused her as a child is dead now.”

  “What about recently? Was she having trouble with a boss or a boyfriend?”

  “I don’t know about that. We really just exchanged notes from time to time.” Farrah looked at her watch again. “Listen, I’m sorry, Detective, but I have to go.”

  “Do me a favor and check that file for me.” Sean took out a business card. “If you find anything—”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  • • •

  Brooke left the lab feeling drained. And totally uninspired by the mountain of laundry she had waiting for her. She’d meant to tackle it that afternoon, but between the doughnut shop and the Delphi Center, she’d barely been home.

  She eyed the clock. Seven thirty already. She hadn’t heard from Sean all day. She decided to check in, and he answered on the first ring.

  “I wanted to see if you went by the doughnut place today,” she said.

  “I was there this morning. No sign of him. You?”

  “I went by twice this morning and once this afternoon. No one fit the description.” She paused, suddenly feeling awkward about calling. The last time she’d seen him, he’d kissed her breathless. “So . . . I’m on my way home. Anything new with the case?”

  “A lot. We got our first suspect.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s not panning out, though. His girlfriend came in for an interview, and his alibi holds.”

  “Damn.”

  “I know.”

  “I take it you’re at work, then?” she asked.

  “Nah, I’m headed to Gino’s to get a pizza. Want to join me?”

  “Oh. I don’t know.”

  “Well, are you hungry?”

  “Yeah, actually.”

  “You could meet me there. Or I could pick you up.”

  She didn’t say anything, and the quiet stretched out.

  “It’s just pizza, Brooke.”

  He sounded amused by her reluctance. And he was so laid-back about it, why was she hesitating? She’d called him. It wasn’t like he was pressuring her.

  “You don’t mind driving?” she asked.

  “No problem. I’ll be by in a few.”

  By the time Brooke pulled onto her street, she was having second thoughts.

  She shouldn’t get into something with him. She needed a break from relationships and sex and all the twisty dynamics that went along with everything. She needed to stand on her own. She’d made a promise to herself when she broke up with Matt that she’d take some time to get her footing back. So what the hell was she doing with Sean?

  Just pizza. Last night had been just beer, and look where that had gotten her. All day she’d been thinking about kissing him. She was thinking about it now, too, as she swung into her driveway and spotted his headlights turning onto her street. So much for dashing inside to change clothes or do her hair or maybe put on some makeup—which was for the better.

  Sean glided to a stop in front of her house, and she went around to the passenger side and climbed in.

  “Whoa.” She looked him over. “What’s with the suit?”

  “Funeral.” He pulled away from the curb.

  “Already? That seems fast.”

  “It was. Think they were trying to dodge the media.”

  Brooke glanced around. She’d never been in Sean’s truck before. It was toasty warm and filled with guy clutter. She noticed the muddy work boots in back, the gym bag, the skateboard.

  “It’s my nephew’s,” he said, noticing her noticing. “Although I do know how to skate, in case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t.” She smiled at him, all GQ-looking in his dark suit, and she couldn’t picture him on a skateboard.

  He glanced at her. “You’re one of those girls, huh? I bet you stayed away from skaters. We were the troublemakers.”

  “I think it’s more accurate to say skaters stayed away from me. I was a science geek.”

  “Yeah, I bet you were.” He smiled. “In a good way.”

  “Hmm . . . I don’t know if it was ‘good’ for my social life. I didn’t go to a single dance in high school.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No.”

  Why had she just told him that? She wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She glanced over, and he was grinning.

  “Those guys must be kicking themselves now.”

  “Yes, I’m sure not a day goes by.”

  “Seriously, look at you. You’re beautiful and successful. You’ve got a cool job at a world-famous crime lab.”

  She darted a glance at him.

  “What?”

  “You’re so full of it.”

  “I’m just stating the obvious.”

  She shook her head and looked away as he pulled into Gino’s parking lot. They got out, and Sean took a moment to shrug out of his suit jacket and stash it in the back of the cab. Meanwhile, Brooke skimmed the parking lot for Matt’s oversize pickup.

  When she glanced back at Sean, he was watching her. He stepped closer, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  They walked to the restaurant in silence, and Sean held the door for a family going in ahead of them. It was a little thing, but she definitely noticed. So many guys didn’t bother with manners.

  Gino’s smelled like roasted garlic, and Brooke’s mouth started to water as she read the menu board posted above the counter.

  “I’m thinking we need a large,” Sean said. “What kind do you want?”

  She almost told him to choose what he wanted, but caught herself. “Mushroom and extra pepperoni. Thick crust.”

  Sean placed the order and took a plastic number, and Brooke didn’t fight him when he got out his wallet. She insisted on paying for their beers, though.

  Several cozy booths were available, but Brooke led him to a tall table in a lively corner of the restaurant beside a pair of dartboards.

  “You play?” Sean set down their bottles.

  “Yes, but I’d hate to embarrass you.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Trash talk, huh? I’ll be right back.”

  She watched him as he walked over to the bar. Being near him again brought their kiss back in vivid detail. The way his mouth had fit over hers, his taste, the snug press of his body . . . Every cell inside her had been screaming, This. Finally. It had felt so completely right, like every kiss before it had been a weak imitation of what a kiss should be.

  Brooke sipped her beer as Sean returned to the table with a handful of darts.

  “You want to play a game or just throw until the food comes?” he asked.

  “How about first to one hundred?”

  He leaned his elbow on the table and watched her, and she tried not to get distracted by how good he looked with his sleeves rolled up and a day’s worth of stubble darkening his jaw. Other women were noticing him, but his gaze stayed fixed on her—so firmly she felt butterflies in her stomach as she tried to concentrate on the dartboard.

  She hit an eighteen.

  “Not bad.”

  She shot him a look. Her next throw hit a twenty. The t
hird dart bounced, so she stopped for a beer break.

  “So, how many nephews do you have?” she asked.

  “Eight.”

  “Get out. Eight nephews?”

  “And three nieces.” The pride in his voice told her he was totally serious.

  “How many siblings are in your family?” She plucked her darts from the board and handed them over.

  “Four sisters and a brother. I’m the youngest of six.”

  “Aha. No wonder you’re a charmer. I bet you got away with all kinds of stuff growing up.”

  “Guilty.”

  Brooke tried to imagine being in a family that large. She couldn’t picture it. “What do they all do?”

  He narrowed his gaze for a moment, focusing on the board. He hit a fifteen and turned to look at her. “Let’s see, we’ve got a nurse, a cop, two teachers, and a firefighter.” He swigged his beer.

  “Jeez. You sound like a Richard Scarry book. Your sister’s a cop, too?”

  “That’s my brother. My sister’s the firefighter.”

  “Really? That’s so cool.”

  “You’d like her. She’s an ass-kicker like you.”

  “Right.”

  “You don’t think you’re an ass-kicker?”

  “Um, no.”

  “I’ve seen you at crime scenes bossing around cops twice your size. You scare the hell out of people.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You do. Everyone’s terrified to touch anything.”

  “They should be. We can’t have people tromping around destroying evidence.”

  He smiled, and she felt a warm pull. The attraction was right there, simmering between them every time she got near him. It wasn’t just his looks. As good as he looked, that was only a small part of it. It was the way he moved, the way he talked, and—most important—the way he looked at her. He seemed interested, maybe even intrigued, as though he wanted to hear what she had to say.

  He was looking at her that way now, so of course her mind went blank.

  Brooke wrapped her hand around the cold beer bottle. “So. How’d your sister decide to become a firefighter?”

  “I don’t know.” Sean threw a nineteen. “She’s always kind of marched to her own drum.”

  “Good for her.”

  He threw a bull’s-eye as if it were no big deal and jotted their scores on the nearby chalkboard.

  “What about your family?” He handed over the darts.

  “We’re pretty small. Just my mom, my dad, and my brother. He’s six years older, so we weren’t exactly close growing up.”

  “And now?”

  “Not really. I mean, they are, I guess. Everyone’s a doctor but me.”

  “The medical kind?”

  “PhDs. Chemistry, physics, and electrical engineering.”

  “Wow.” Sean folded his arms over his chest and somehow managed to look even sexier. “You’re all scientists.”

  “I’m not like them, though. I’m not in academia.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve seen your business card. You’ve got some pretty impressive letters after your name.”

  She hadn’t realized he knew about her master’s in forensic science. But she should have known. He paid attention to details. Including details about her, apparently.

  She turned her attention to the board and threw a ten, which didn’t count.

  “What’s wrong with not being in academia?”

  “Nothing, really. But I don’t discuss my work with my family.”

  “How come?”

  “I deal with rape kits and shell casings and blood spatter all day. It’s too . . . I don’t know . . . raw, I guess you’d say.”

  He watched her over his beer as he took a sip.

  How had they gotten on this topic? Siblings and parents and family dynamics? She hadn’t intended to venture into personal territory tonight. She was trying to keep this friendly, not flirty, but his comments weren’t helping. You’re beautiful. It was such a line, but still it put a sweet tingle in the pit of her stomach.

  “Speaking of work,” she said, “you said a lot happened with the case today.”

  He nodded. “I told you about our maybe suspect, although I’m skeptical. We also found a potential murder weapon.”

  “The knife? Where was it?”

  “I don’t know if it’s the knife. Callie took it to Delphi for testing. We’ll see what we get.”

  “We have it already? I didn’t see it come in.”

  “I think it’s in the DNA lab right now.”

  “I’ll check in with them tomorrow.”

  He glanced at her, and she realized she’d revealed that she planned to spend her Sunday at work.

  Sean didn’t comment, maybe because he was as bad as she was.

  Brooke shifted her attention to the board. She finished her turn with no points to show.

  Sean retrieved the darts and lined up his next shot. “So, I have a question for you.”

  The warm tone of his voice made Brooke’s nerves flutter.

  “About this break you’re taking from men.” He looked at her.

  “What about it?”

  He threw a dart.

  “Bull’s-eye for the win,” she said. “I must be getting rusty.”

  He plucked the dart from the board and returned to the table.

  “I’m wondering, is it like a brief hiatus? Or more of a long-term ban?”

  “I don’t know. It’s as long as I need.”

  He held her gaze, and she felt her heart thudding. His look was so intent, as though he had a lot riding on her answer.

  “Sounds like there’s a story there. You want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  He nodded. “Your call.”

  Your call. Two words Matt never said to her.

  Sean gazed down at her, and the warm pull was back. He hadn’t touched her at all tonight. Not once, only with his eyes. But something about them was magnetic, and she couldn’t look away.

  A server appeared with a giant pizza, and Brooke jumped on the distraction.

  “Mushroom double pepperoni?”

  “That’s us.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Sean drove through town, happy to have Brooke riding in the seat beside him, but not at all happy that he was about to drop her off.

  “Thanks for not pressing the issue.”

  He glanced at her. “Sure.”

  “Honestly, I’m just sick of talking about it lately. Rehashing it with my friends. Maybe another time.”

  “I’m a patient man.”

  She laughed. “No, you’re not.”

  “I am.”

  She turned in her seat to face him. “The day I met you, you demanded I put a rush on your evidence for you. Less than twenty-four hours later, you were back with more evidence, and you needed it ASAP. Then you proceeded to pester me for daily updates.”

  “Okay, but that was a double homicide. It was an unusual case. Anyway, I was talking about my personal life.”

  “So, you’re a bulldog at work, but in your personal life, you’re totally chill?”

  “Exactly.”

  He glanced at her, and he could see she didn’t believe him. But it was true. Months of rehab had forced him to dig deep within himself for things he didn’t know he had. Patience. The ability to withstand pain. Gratitude.

  Gratitude was a big one. He hadn’t realized how much he took people for granted in his life until they showed up to help him without even being asked. It was humbling as hell.

  The experience of nearly getting killed and having to work to get his life back had changed him. He was more analytical now and took a longer view. He appreciated people and experiences more.

  This thing with Brooke was a perfect example. The chemistry they had together—it wasn’t every day you felt something like that. In his thirty-three years, he’d never before felt it. It was rare, and he was clued in enough now to realize it.

  Not that he planned to tell
her. If he did, she’d probably run for the hills. There would be no more pizza or dart games or beers after work. She’d made it clear she needed some space, and Sean was determined to give it to her, even if it hurt—literally ached—to be around her and not touch her. He could make himself wait.

  Sean pulled up in front of her house and parked.

  “Thank you for the pizza,” she said. “And the darts. And the ride.”

  “Anytime. Thanks for the beer.”

  She opened the door, and he resisted the urge to do the same. He really, really wanted to walk her to her door.

  “Good night, Sean.”

  “Night.”

  He watched her go up the sidewalk.

  Regret pummeled him. He should have kissed her. He should have done it now, tonight, when last night’s kiss was still fresh in her mind. But she was on her porch now, rummaging for her keys, about to go inside alone, and who the hell knew when she’d agree to have dinner with him again?

  The pizza.

  Sean grabbed the box from the back and shoved open his door.

  “Wait.” He jogged up the sidewalk with the box in hand. “Your leftovers.”

  “Oh. Thanks, I forgot.”

  She looked up at him, and he had his second chance. He gazed down at those mesmerizing eyes of hers.

  She yelped and jumped back.

  Sean glanced down to see a mangy black cat glaring up at him.

  “Oh, my God, you scared me!”

  “Who’s this?”

  “This is Midnight.” She turned and unlocked the door, and the cat darted inside. “He’s not even my cat.”

  “Better tell him that.”

  “Midnight, come here.”

  She stepped inside.

  Sean followed. “Want me to put this in the kitchen?”

  “Sure, that’s—” She gasped and halted.

  Sean bumped into her and caught her elbow. “What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t answer. She stood motionless, staring at her living room. It looked the same as last time he’d been in here—a tight space furnished with a sofa, an armchair, and a coffee table. In the center of the table was a beer bottle.

  “Brooke, what is it?”

  Without a word, she strode across the room and snatched up the bottle.

  Sean closed the front door and followed her into the kitchen, where she stood at the sink pouring the beer down the drain. She opened a lower cabinet and dropped the bottle into the trash.