- -
- 100%
- +
Oh, man, she was in trouble. She’d worked herself into quite the orgasm last night and all from thinking about the possibilities. It had been so long since she’d had a crush, and this one was major. They had only three months before he was off to Colorado. But three months would be enough, if…
The problem was, did he want there to be something between them? It was hard to tell. She’d thought for sure he’d wanted to stay last night, but he’d walked away without a backward glance.
Maybe he wanted to get together, but since they were working together…
Oh, crap. That was it. He didn’t want to risk the information. She’d basically become his informant. Maybe he thought things would get too messy if they pursued this…thing.
As far as she was concerned there was no cause for concern. They were both sensible and aware, and they both realized that the investigation had to come first. As long as they didn’t get all crazy about things, they could still work together and have a little sex on the side. No harm, no foul.
Or not.
Why, out of all the men she’d met in months, did she find the detective so yummy? It was all wrong, and she’d do herself a big darn favor by forgetting about it. She had enough on her plate with her job, and now helping with the case. It was stupid to think of hooking up with Bax.
Stupid and addictive.
No, no. Mustn’t linger in the land of make-believe. Focus on the work. On the great puzzle to be solved. Yes. The sooner they had the killer in custody, the sooner Detective Milligan would be…well, he’d be something. To find out what, she had to solve the crime. Fast.
“WHAT’S THE GOOD WORD?” Bax asked, fully prepared to hear nothing but bad words from Grunwald, who’d been dutifully following the chain of evidence as Bax was busy being jerked around by celebrities.
“We found some fibers, but nothing that’s going to point to a killer. I’m still waiting on the official autopsy results but we know there wasn’t a fight. Whoever did it came from behind. No defensive wounds.”
“So we still don’t know if it was a man or woman who killed him?”
“We’ll know more once we get more results. I hear from the captain this one’s going to hit the lab fast. What about you? Anyone looking good?”
“Everyone looks good. Too many fish in this barrel. I need to find out about the finances of the picture. How much the actors are getting paid. What kind of arrangements they have with Weinberg. I’m hearing noises that the film company is in trouble, too. So dig up what you can.”
“Yeah, well, Miguel came back and he’s assigned to the desk, so guess what he’s gonna be doing?”
Bax laughed, knowing Miguel hated desk duty worse than anybody. “That’ll teach him to wash his car.”
“Good luck with those movie stars,” Grunwald said.
“Yeah. I’ll check in with you later.” Bax disconnected and put his cell on his belt, wishing he could go back down to that nice little office in the basement of the hotel. He’d lock the door, turn off his phone and sleep until it was time to leave New York.
There was only one thing he’d miss, and it wasn’t finding Geiger’s killer.
An air horn went off down the street, signaling that the director had yelled cut. Most of today’s scenes were being shot in the Hush garage, but they were also blocking part of East 41st Street, which was causing havoc with traffic.
He knew that the city made a fortune from these movie shoots, and that’s why they were so willing to inconvenience the denizens of midtown, but man, what a mess.
Bobbi Tamony had blown him off twice, and that was going to stop right now. He didn’t give a shit about her schedule or her temperament. He’d had it with these prima donnas.
With a curse, he pushed himself off the side of the building. It was just past noon, and if the first assistant director was to be believed, the filming would stop for lunch any minute.
“Bax!”
He turned at the sound of Mia’s voice. All of a sudden he wasn’t so tired. There she was, coming out of the big glass door, rushing toward him in her black tux. The smile on her face put one on his.
“Are you swamped?” she asked.
“No.”
“Really? You have some time?” She looked past him, to the big barricades holding back the pedestrians, the off-duty beat cops making an extra dime. Past them were trailers and equipment and a bunch of crew people scurrying to and fro as if they were doing something important.
“I’m all yours,” he said.
She flushed enough for him to catch it on her cheeks. “Great. Where can we go that’s private?”
He thought about taking her down to the office he’d been given, but he wanted her away from Hush. If he could have, he’d take her far away, say, the Cloisters or at least Central Park. Then it hit him. “Come with me.”
She walked along beside him, and the urge to take her hand was strong. Really strong. But he was on the clock and so was she. Hadn’t he just lectured himself about this very thing?
“Where are we going?”
“I think I have somewhere nice and quiet and private,” he said. “I have to check, though.”
They walked past the barricade into the heart of the location. It wasn’t difficult to find the AD. She was standing in the middle of the street, papers in one hand, a walkie-talkie in the other.
He touched Mia’s arm. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded as she stared at all the equipment and chairs and the thrum of activity.
The business w to work out, at least for the next hour. He didn’t want anyoneith the AD took only a few minutes. Then he was back at Mia’s side. “Come on,” he said, pleased that things were going from the film company or Hush knowing he was using Mia as his go-between.
He led her to the garage, to the row of trailers and motor homes. When he got to the fourth huge motor home, the only one without a name plate, he opened the door and waited for Mia to climb the four steps.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s what movie stars use instead of port-a-potties.”
She whistled as she got a load of the five-star accommodations. It wasn’t exactly like Danny Austen’s, but it was close.
“This is like a suite at the hotel,” she said, running her hand over the top of the white leather armchair. “Are you sure it’s okay that we’re here?”
“No one’s using this one, at least for today. I checked.”
She looked at him with a hint of wicked in her big dark eyes. “So no one’s gonna come knocking?”
He shook his head.
Mia approached him slowly, her fingertips trailing over the table. “I’ve got a whole hour until I have to get back to work.”
She was tiny next to him. His hands could fit around her waist. The top of her head didn’t even come up to his chin and she smelled like a soft, sweet flower. But the look in her eyes was bold as brass.
Wanting her swamped him, made him lift his hand to pull her close. To kiss her would ease the ache that had been there since they’d met. It would let him sleep again. But in his dreams, he hadn’t stopped at a kiss.
Bax forced himself to take a step back. To make it really clear that this was business and nothing more. It didn’t matter that she wanted it. That he wanted it.
Man, his job sucked.
6
OKAY, SO SHE’D MISJUDGED the situation. It happened. No big deal, right?
Turning away from Bax, who’d done everything but send up a flare to let her know that he wasn’t interested in anything beyond a work relationship, she gathered her pride and her wits about her as she sat in the chair next to the table. No chance of him getting close from this position. “Sheila Geiger came to the hotel this morning. She had some interesting things to say.”
Bax nodded as his gaze moved from her to the couch back to her then to the other single chair across from the table. That’s where he chose to sit. “You talked to her yourself?”
“Yes. In the bar. She was early and I took her to get some tea.”
“She didn’t seem like the tea type to me.”
“Yes, well, sometimes our initial impressions aren’t all that accurate, are they.”
“Point taken.”
She hadn’t meant to get snarky with him. Using her most practiced smile, she leaned in, making sure her body language was friendly, open. Not in the least sexual. “Anyway, she’s pretty sure that Danny Austen killed her husband.”
Bax blinked at her as if something didn’t compute. He’d already said he thought Sheila wasn’t unhappy that her husband was dead, and Sheila had admitted she’d told him about her suspicions, so why was this revelation troubling him? Then it occurred to her. She was grinning at him as if she’d just told him he’d won a stuffed bunny. She ditched the big smile and eased back about ten degrees. “She also said that she thinks it’s because Gerry knew that Danny bats for both teams.”
“Shit,” Bax said.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just that I think it’s true.”
“That Danny killed Geiger?”
“No. That Danny is bisexual.”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly take Sheila Geiger’s word as gospel.”
He shook his head. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that Austen hit on me this morning.”
“What?”
“I was thinking maybe I got it wrong, but now that two sources have confirmed it—”
“He hit on you? How?”
“It’s not important. What else did—”
“Oh, no. Come on. I’m not going to tell anyone. What did he say?”
Bax looked flustered. He scratched his head, making little tufts of dark hair stand up, and he didn’t meet her eyes. “I had a headache. He offered to help me with it.”
“Holy crap.”
“I said no.”
She laughed. “I wasn’t suggesting that you didn’t. I’ve just always thought, you know, Danny Austen. He’s legendary.”
“But is he a killer?”
“I haven’t finished about Sheila.”
He leaned forward, looking pleased that they were talking once more about murder.
“She said she had pictures.”
“From that night?”
“Don’t know. I asked, but then someone came in. She never answered me.”
“Did she give you any specifics about the pictures?”
“She implied they were of Danny and someone else. A man. She said they would prove that he was the killer.”
“Unless they show him with the murder weapon, or actually killing Geiger, I doubt that. But they sure could point to motive.”
“If she’s telling the truth.”
“You didn’t believe her?”
She hadn’t wanted to tell him this, not after being such a snot with that comment, but she had to. “She was drunk.”
“When?”
“This morning. When she got to the hotel. It’s crazy, too, because she was going to lunch with Piper and Trace.”
“Trace is the attorney, right?”
“Yes. Piper’s husband.”
“Sheila knew that. Knew she was meeting with counsel.”
“Maybe not. I don’t know. Even so, it seems like awfully poor judgment.”
He leaned back again. “The alcohol must be a considerable problem, then. She has a lot on the line. A lot to lose.”
“Or she’s really devastated by the loss of her husband.”
Bax shook his head even as he said, “I suppose so.”
“You don’t believe her?”
“I’d have to see the evidence for myself.”
“Can’t you get a search warrant? Get all the cameras from their house?”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to see if a judge will get on board. But there’s no guarantee, even if we swept the house, that the pictures would be there.”
Mia stood up, anxious now to leave this very private and inviting motor home. But she couldn’t go just yet. Not until she knew for sure.
She remembered a lesson her mother had taught her long ago—don’t ask a question if you’re not prepared to hear the answer. But she was prepared. Better to get things out on the table. Deal with what was, not what she wished could be. “Bax?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, but I got some pretty strong vibes before. About us.”
He met her gaze. “You did, huh?”
“Was I crazy?”
Bax closed his eyes for a second, then shook his head slowly. “No, you weren’t.”
“Ah.”
He stood up. Came close. “But here’s the thing—”
“You don’t have to explain,” she said. “I just—”
“I do. There are some propriety issues as well as some legal issues.”
“I’m twenty-eight, for heaven’s sake.”
“Not that kind of legal,” he said, smiling at her. “We made an agreement last night. You’re an informant. You may have to testify, and if that came to pass, and then it came out that we—that I—”
“Oh.”
“So, it’s not that I don’t want to.”
She stepped back, not sure if she needed to discuss this any further. “It’s for the best. You’re leaving. I have so much to do with the hotel and everything—”
“Right, right. Those are all really good reasons.”
She backed up some more, almost to the door. “I’d better—”
“Sure. Yes. And thanks for that information. Helpful. Good.”
“No problem. All part of the service. As informant, I mean.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again. His gaze went down to the notebook in his hand, and she slipped out the door.
BOBBI TAMONY WAS in her motor home, and by this time, Bax was no longer impressed. It all felt foolish to him, a giant game that half the world had bought into, but that really meant nothing. All pretense, no substance.
He’d seen a lot of Bobbi’s movies in his time and had enjoyed them for the most part, but she was just a suspect. A suspect with two very small, very yappy dogs that had the run of the trailer.
“Can I get you something? A drink? A snack?”
“No, thank you,” he said, sitting in the big chair by the door, just as he had with Danny. Bax eyed the couch, wishing for the hundredth time that he hadn’t been such a fool with Mia. It wasn’t that he’d changed his mind about what he could and couldn’t do, but he was damn sure a smarter man would have handled things more adroitly. He’d embarrassed her. Embarrassed himself. And damn it, he still wanted her.
He’d known her what, a couple of days? How was it possible he liked her so intensely? That he couldn’t shake the feel of her, the scent of her?
This was new for him. The last woman he’d been serious about, Carol, hadn’t bamboozled him like this. They’d started as friends in the academy and the relationship had progressed. They’d decided that it would be good to live together, and that had been pretty good for five whole years.
Then she’d met someone. A fellow cop Bax knew casually, someone he’d never have imagined with Carol. He was one of those manly men. Hunted, fished, worked out with great big dumbbells. To the best of Bax’s knowledge, it had never occurred to him to pick up a book. Carol seemed happy with him, though, so there it was. He used to miss her. Now, he only thought about her when they ran into each other through the job.
This thing with Mia, though, there was none of the distance he’d had with Carol. It was as if she’d bypassed his logic circuits, hitting him straight in the emotions. Not smart. Not when they were both involved with a big case like this one.
“Did you want to ask me some questions, Detective?”
Shit. “Yes, I do.” He pulled out his notebook and pen. “First, why don’t you tell me about your relationship with Gerry Geiger.”
“Relationship? We didn’t have one, other than him being a pain in my ass.”
“In what way?”
She smiled, and he thought of how different it was to see that famous grin life-sized instead of on a movie screen. “He was no different from all the other stalkerazzis. Always looking to get the most unflattering pictures, the most compromising positions. The uglier the better.”
“Did he catch you in any compromising positions?”
“Lots of times. I’d like to tell you my life has been so pure there was nothing for him to catch, but that would be a crock. I’ve partied with the best of them, or perhaps I should say the worst. In fact, it was Gerry who managed to get a copy of my mug shot when I was busted for that DUI in L.A.”
“Did you and he have any discussions about that?”
“No, Detective, we didn’t. We had no discussions whatsoever. Come here, baby. Come on.”
Bax bit back a sigh as the women segued from the interview to getting her tiny dog on her lap. Then he waited for a couple of minutes as the dog, nestled under her considerable cleavage, barked at him. Bobbi didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed a little calmer after the dog finally shut up.
“As for the night he was murdered, I left the nightclub set at a quarter to eleven. You can check with the AD who signed me out. I then went to my room, took a very long bath and went to bed.”
“Anyone who can confirm that?”
“The pet concierge, Mercy I believe her name is, brought the babies to my room.”
“Do you remember what time?”
“No. Sometime after eleven. After that, no one can vouch for me. Sorry.”
“Do you think someone from the film killed him?”
She didn’t seem the least shaken by his question. “Very possibly. He wasn’t a nice man, Detective. He was rude, pushy, obnoxious. His lifeblood was our misery.”
“And yet, according to Mrs. Geiger, you called on him to take pictures when it suited you.”
“Look, sweetie, I didn’t make the calls myself,” she said with a slight roll of her eyes. “Oscar has people who do that kind of thing, not me.”
“So you never actually spoke to Mrs. Geiger.”
“God, no. But from what I hear, she’s quite the lush. Even Gerry Geiger had had enough of that one. I heard he was getting ready to leave her.”
“How did you hear that?”
“Was it Nan? Maybe not. You have to understand, Detective—do you have a first name? That detective bit is getting old.”
“We’re almost done. Was it Nan Collins who told you that Geiger was leaving his wife?”
“I don’t recall, honestly. It was just one of those rumors on the set. You know how those are.”
“No. How are they?”
She smiled, clearly not appreciating his humor.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“That’s it.”
“You’ll let me know if you think of anything else, yes?”
Her smile became even less charming. Perhaps he should have let her call him Bax.
“I’ll rush to find you if I think of another thing.”
He stood, causing the dogs to get hysterical yet again, and then he was outside in the warm June afternoon. He needed to type up his notes, call Grunwald, although he was no closer to a suspect. But attention had to be paid to the protocols.
Besides, once he was inside, he could check room service records and find out about the pet concierge. Jeez, hotels had certainly changed a lot. Or maybe he was just a hopeless hick, destined for backwoods motels.
As he entered the hotel lobby, his gaze went straight to the front desk, to Mia. She didn’t see him, engrossed as she was on the computer and her phone. He watched her for a long while, probably too long. She typed and talked with a smile that he knew now was genuine. Not like Bobbi Tamony, or any of those movie people. None of those actors could hold a candle to Mia. She was beautiful, wickedly bright— Bax closed his eyes. This was not good.
In fact, it was humiliating. Thirty-six years old, and he was moony over a slip of a girl. Jesus. Pretty soon he’d be writing her name on the back of his notebook.
He turned around and walked outside, stretching his legs for the first time that day. Thinking about this situation.
First of all, he was leaving. He’d already been accepted at Boulder and there was nothing for him in New York, so it wasn’t optional. Second, she wasn’t leaving. Mia had scored herself an incredible job, and she wasn’t about to give that up for the likes of him. Third, he was really, really tired. That was probably what all this insanity was about. He’d get a good night’s sleep and things would go back to normal.
This was not the way he did things.
He was on a case, for God’s sake. A high-profile murder. What, did he think he could skate just because he’d turned in his resignation? As long as he was on the damn clock, he would put his entire energy on the job, not on his dick.
Only, it wasn’t just his dick.
Shit.
“YOU HAVE A MINUTE, Mia?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
It was Mercy, the pet concierge at Hush and one of Mia’s favorite people here at the hotel. She was shy and sweet, and they’d had great talks about crazy guests and their pets, not to mention all the hotel gossip. They met for drinks or dinner whenever they could.
She seemed distracted, which was understandable. They’d had an extraordinary number of pets recently, all of them wanting the kind of specialized services Hush was famous for. Home-baked treats, massages, walks of course, and playtime in the PetQuarters. Mercy had even hired special help to get through the month as most of her personal time was spent caring for Bobbi Tamony’s two Chihuahuas.
“You were with that policeman this morning, right?”
“Detective Milligan? Yeah, I was helping him with some details about the case.”
“Uh-huh, anyway, I don’t know if I should bother him— No, it’s nothing. Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Wait. Don’t go. What was it you wanted to tell him?”
Mercy also wore the Hush uniform, but her pink bow tie had little black puppies on it. She had bigger pockets on her jacket, too, to hold all the biscuits. What made her look completely adorable though was that she wore her long blond hair up in a ponytail, held there with a big pink bow that matched her tie. So cute. But Mia could tell she wasn’t her usual perky self.
“I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.” Mercy stepped closer to the desk. “It just that when I went up last night to deliver the pups, I could tell Bobbi had been crying.”
“Was anyone with her?”
“No, but she was acting really odd. She shoved a bunch of stuff under her blanket when I walked into the room.”
“It could have just been, you know, Hush stuff.”
Mercy waved her hand. “Oh, heck no. She leaves her vibrators out on display on top of her night tables. She was really bothered by something. I asked if I could do anything and she said no, but…”
“What?”
“I saw the guy that was murdered coming out of her room that night.”
“The night he was killed?”
Mercy nodded. “I have no idea what he was doing there, or if it means anything. You think I should tell him? The detective?”
“Yeah. I think so. It could mean something.”
“All right. I’ll find him before he goes home. Thanks.”
“No problem. Let me know if there’s anything else you think of. I mean, it’s probably easier for me to catch the detective.”
“Uh-huh,” Mercy gave her a look that said she wasn’t fooled in the least. “As soon as this madness is over, you and I will have ourselves a talk.” She leaned over the edge of the desk. “He is pretty damn hot.”
Mia felt a blush heat her cheeks. Lucky for her, the phone rang. “Concierge, this is Mia, how may I help you?”
Mercy shook her head as she left and Mia was quite certain that if Mercy, who was far more intuitive about puppies than people, knew about her thing for Bax, then the entire staff at Hush knew as well. Great.
7
“YOU’RE HERE.”
Bax nodded then got up from the pony wall in the Hush garage. “I wanted to make sure you got home safely.”
Mia approached him, a little bit thrilled that he was here and a little bit leery as to why. “You didn’t have to. The paps don’t seem to care that much about me today.”
“Fools.”
“Oh,” she said, but she didn’t think he heard her. This was so odd. It was like some elaborate dance but she didn’t know the steps. He comes close, he backs away, he tells her it’s all about the job, then says, “Fools.” Not fair. And still, she was drawn to him. Terribly so.
She touched the sleeve of his leather jacket. As June was coming into its own the days and nights were becoming warmer. Soon that leather would be too much for the season and he’d put the jacket away. She bet he looked great in a T-shirt. “It’s nice of you.”