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  “You look stunning, an absolute goddess,” Alice raved. The diminutive mayor’s wife was still in her bathrobe. “Are you still seeing the, urn, Batliner boy? What’s his name?”

  “James. And no, James and I are no longer an item.”

  Alice frowned. “Not because of this police business, I hope.”

  “No, it happened before my arrest.” Hours before, come to think of it. Could there be a connection? At first she’d thought Michael was crazy for thinking James was involved, but the more she’d thought about it, the more she’d started to wonder. He’d asked her out the first time just days after the date of the Art Deco Museum heist.

  “He’ll be here tonight, I believe,” Alice said. “I hope that won’t be uncomfortable for you.”

  Wendy smiled and shook her head. “Listen, there’ll be so many people here, I’ll probably never see him.” And if she did, she added silently, she looked so awesome that James’s date—whoever she was—would seem a frump by comparison. She found that the mean-spirited thought gave her no pleasure at all. She really didn’t care what James did.

  She only cared about Michael, she realized with a painful thud of her heart. She’d fallen in love with him, crazy as that seemed. He’d started out as her nemesis, he’d become her champion, and now he was detached and impersonal. She would definitely prefer the verbal sparring that had marked their first day together to the coolness between them now.

  At least she wouldn’t have to worry about running into him at the party. Though he’d once worked under the guest of honor, the retiring Walt Patterson, he’d made it quite clear that froufrou parties weren’t his thing.

  “You’d better get dressed,” Wendy said, patting Alice on the shoulder. “T minus forty-five minutes and counting.”

  The first guests started arriving at eight o’clock on the dot. Mr. and Mrs. Munn were there to greet them, resplendent in their formal attire. Champagne flowed, classical music drifted on the air, and the canapés started to disappear with heartening regularity. The crowd flowed from room to room, spilling out onto the patio as the number of guests increased steadily.

  Wendy caught sight of James with a tall, cool blonde on his arm. The woman was more his style than she was, Wendy decided without even a twinge of regret. She intended to stay out of his way so there would be no need for any awkward conversation.

  Alice caught up with her in the kitchen, where Wendy supervised the arrangement of a cheese tray destined for the library.

  “Oh, Wendy, there you are. I hate to ask you this, because I know you’re busy—”

  “What is it, Mrs. Munn?” she asked pleasantly, steeling herself for a problem.

  “It’s just that my little Misha is locked up in our bedroom, and if you could take her for a short walk in the garden so she can tinkle …”

  Misha was Alice’s Yorkshire terrier, the tiniest mammal Wendy had ever seen, not counting mice, and Wendy adored him. “I’ll be happy to walk him,” she said, putting one final sprig of parsley on the cheese tray before nodding her approval. She could definitely use a breath of fresh air.

  “When you get back, I’ll introduce you to the guest of honor,” Alice said. “He’s probably not a good prospect for you—he and his wife are retiring in Tahiti or someplace—but he’s got lots of friends.”

  Wendy wondered why she hadn’t seen Captain Patterson yet. For a guest of honor, he sure was keeping a low profile.

  “Hey, I thought you weren’t coming,” Joe said when he caught sight of Michael entering the drawing room at the mayor’s mansion. “What changed your mind? Sharp tie.”

  Michael pulled at the tie in question. He’d bought a new shirt and tie that afternoon, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he didn’t want Wendy seeing him with all these hoity-toity people and noticing frayed cuffs.

  “I’m here on business,” he said. “James Batliner is on the guest list, and I’m going to collect some samples from him.”

  “Some sam—you mean hair, saliva, that kind of thing?” Joe’s eyes widened. “You’re in deep doo-doo if he catches you.”

  “He won’t catch me. He’s so gaga over his date that he won’t notice if I stick him with a syringe and draw blood.” He nodded toward James and his new conquest, an anorectic blonde with a flat chest and no color in her face. Under his breath, Michael muttered, “I can’t believe he would prefer her over Wendy.”

  “Different strokes,” Joe said. “I’ll help you nail the guy. What do you want me to do?”

  “See if you can spot a stray hair on his jacket,” Michael said. “He’s never met you, so he won’t be suspicious if you tell him you’re brushing lint off him. I’m going to nab his champagne glass—if he ever puts it down.”

  “Uh-oh, there he goes, toward the patio.”

  Michael started his way through the crowded room, enduring greetings and handshakes from several former coworkers he’d known when he’d worked patrol under Walt Patterson a zillion years before. He didn’t want to appear anxious and alert his prey, yet he didn’t want to lose sight of Batliner, either.

  He’d just extricated himself from a particularly friendly female Internal Affairs detective when a vision across the room stopped him cold, then made him flush hot.

  It was Wendy, holding a tiny dog and looking like some kind of sea nymph in a pale green dress that clung to her every lush curve. He fancied he could even make out the outline of her nipples through the clingy fabric. Then he realized he wasn’t the only one watching her, and he experienced a flash of possessiveness that bordered on insanity. He’d never before wanted to throw a woman over his shoulder caveman fashion and haul her back to his lair, mark her with his brand.

  He was about to tear himself away when she caught his gaze. They stared at each other for easily five seconds while time stood still and the room around him disappeared. Then she looked away, and the world righted itself again.

  He had to talk to her, he decided. He had to confront her about her father and at least hear what she had to say about it.

  One good thing: Wendy was about as safe as she could be. Who would bother her when she was surrounded by a hundred-plus cops?

  The crowd shifted, and he lost sight of her. When it shifted again, it was clear she was gone from the room.

  Michael made a mental note to look for her after he completed his mission. Then he planned to get out of this place and home to a cold beer and a basketball game on TV. A guy could take only so much small talk and teensy hors d’oeuvres.

  James and his date had been heading toward the French doors and the patio when last Michael had seen them. He headed resolutely that way.

  Outside, the air smelled like spring flowers mixed with chlorine from the lake-size swimming pool, but it was better than inside, where the overlay of aftershave and musky perfume was enough to turn his stomach. A country band was tuning up on the patio, and some of the younger guests were gathering there, anticipating some good two-stepping music.

  Joe immediately approached him, his hand in the pocket of his trousers. “Hey. I’ve got a beauty of a two-inch blond hair from Batliner’s collar. What should I do with it?”

  “Good work. I’ve got plastic bags in my jacket.”

  “Hurry. I’ve got the darned hair clutched between my fingers, and I’m afraid I’ll lose it.”

  “This way.” They couldn’t very well stand out in the open to bag evidence they were collecting illegally. The garden would provide them with some cover.

  Behind a large arbor of wisteria, Michael transferred the single hair into a plastic bag, sealed it, and marked it with a permanent marker.

  “You came prepared,” Joe said. “Want me to try for the champagne glass? He’s bound to put it down at some point, unless he’s planning to pilfer it.”

  Michael couldn’t help smiling as he pocketed the plastic bag. “Yeah, go for the glass. You’re getting into this cloak-and-dagger stuff. Maybe you ought to apply for some undercover work.”

  “As long as
I could get away with not wearing a tie.” Joe strode off, intent on his mission. Michael took another breath, thinking maybe he’d stay out there, away from the insincere conversation and the slightly inebriated laughter. Most of the guys were there for the free food and booze. Captain Patterson was called Little Patton behind his back and hadn’t endeared himself to many of his underlings.

  Michael spotted a wisp of green cloth from the corner of his eye. He turned and saw Wendy walking the little dog on a leash. She had her back to him, tapping her foot while waiting for the dog to find a spot he liked. Michael took the opportunity to drink in the sight of her long neck, her bare, slender arms, and the way her dress cupped under her shapely bottom just slightly. Even the small slice of ankle showing at her hem was enticing.

  She turned and caught him staring. He decided to brazen it out. “Wendy,” he called, waving. “I’d like a word with you.” This was as good a place as any to talk to her. At least they could speak without being overheard.

  She nodded, then pointed toward a honeysuckle-encrusted gazebo. “I only have a minute.” She scooped up the rodent-sized dog and led the way to the gazebo. He followed, his gaze riveted on her gently swaying hips and the way the shimmery dress draped around her legs.

  They settled on separate benches in the gazebo. The dog hopped off Wendy’s lap and started to sniff all around, content for the moment to be ignored.

  “The party is … great,” Michael began, lamely, he thought. “You do good work.”

  “Thank you. I’ve met a couple of potential new clients. But I’m sure you don’t want to talk about my work.”

  “No.”

  “Actually, I’m glad you’re still speaking to me. I haven’t been the most gracious … lover.”

  His heart beat faster at her use of that word, at the reminder of what they’d shared and what they should—must—put behind them.

  “The truth is, I knew it was just a fling for you, so I—”

  “How did you know that?” he broke in.

  She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Seems to me you said as much. Anyway, you’ll be going away soon. What else could it be but a fling?”

  “Whether I’m going away or not is debatable at this point.” He had considered withdrawing his application. Maybe he wasn’t on the fast track in Dallas, but he enjoyed his work most of the time. He liked Joe, and he could work for worse men than Captain Rogers. Who knew what kind of people he’d have to put up with in Washington?

  Then there was the snow and ice. He’d never shoveled a sidewalk in his life, and he wasn’t keen on learning how.

  But he couldn’t tell Wendy he wasn’t moving away after all, not until he was positive. He didn’t want to give her the idea that she was the reason he wanted to stay.

  “You’ll do what you have to do, I’m sure,” she said. But did he detect a note of hope in her voice? Did she really care whether he stayed or went? He’d been under the impression she didn’t. “Have you got any new leads?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I don’t know whether it’s good or bad for you, but I’m 99 percent sure James Batliner is involved.”

  Wendy closed her eyes, as if absorbing pain. “Do you think he went out with me just so he could hack into my computer?”

  Michael shook his head. “I find that highly difficult to believe.” In this low light he couldn’t tell, but he thought she might be blushing. “The prosecutor will claim you two were in it together.”

  She sighed. “I can’t seem to win. You finally corral another suspect and it only makes my situation worse.”

  “Your lawyer can put a favorable slant on things, I’m sure. He’s good at that.”

  “Is that all you wanted? ’Cause I really need to get back—”

  “No. I want to talk to you about your father.”

  She sighed again. “You found out about him.”

  “Your pal James spilled the beans,” Michael said softly, suddenly feeling sorry for her. It must have been tough growing up with a father like that. Whatever her reasons for lying to him, he wanted to hear them. “It wasn’t very gentlemanly of him. He was deliberately trying to cast guilt on you, which only made me suspect him more.”

  Wendy gnawed on her lower lip, which was what she did when she was nervous, he’d discovered. “I wanted to tell you,” she said. “I didn’t like lying. But it just looks so bad, me being the daughter of a habitual criminal. And I knew that once you found out, you’d be honor bound to reveal the truth. You would never lie for me.”

  “You’re wrong. I would lie for you. Or, at least, I might not tell the whole truth.”

  She couldn’t have looked more surprised if he’d announced he intended to strip naked and dance on the mayor’s roof.

  “I wouldn’t lie about facts pertinent to the case, but in this instance, your family history has no bearing on the investigation. I see no reason to mention it in my report.”

  “Oh, Michael, thank you!” Before he knew what was happening, she’d launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug he was sure she meant to be wholly asexual. Unfortunately, his body didn’t know the difference. He’d been wondering what it would feel like to press her curves, so blatantly displayed in that wisp of a dress, against him. Now he knew. And she couldn’t help but notice what she did to him. Talk about blatant displays.

  She pulled back a fraction to look into his eyes, and what he saw on her face was anything but asexual. “I’m sorry, Michael. I’m so sorry for leaving you when you were in the shower. I didn’t do it to be mean. I was just scared and running from something that was about to overwhelm me,” she said, the words rushing out in a jumble, “and I didn’t know how I’d be able to handle it when you walked away, so I did it first.”

  He ran his hands up and down the whisper-soft fabric of her dress, then deliberately tangled his finger in her fiery hair. “You think too much.”

  That first touch of lips to lips was incredibly sweet, like a memory of some long-ago summer, eating homemade ice cream and watching fireworks on the Fourth of July, a good, good feeling of something so pleasurable, it almost hurts.

  Then sweet gave way to a powerful, ripping hunger. Their breaths came fast as he plundered her mouth with his tongue and squeezed her bottom with both hands. Yes, he was remembering—the feel of her sweat-soaked limbs entwined with his in impossible configurations as they’d sought release in a half-dozen frantic positions.

  “Oh, Michael.” She said his name on a desperate groan. “I want you so bad even though I know it’s wrong—”

  He cut her off with a kiss. “It’s not wrong. How could this be wrong? I want to be inside you.”

  “Here? What if someone sees us?”

  “They won’t,” he said with more confidence than was warranted, because he was crazy with wanting her and he would do or say anything to have her. The Wendy Thayer Effect was now a proven fact. He’d never been so out of control in his life, and it scared the hell out of him. But it didn’t scare him enough to make him stop. He pulled her dress up so he could feel the bare skin of her thighs and the silk of her panties. He groaned when he realized she wasn’t wearing pantyhose. Just a scrap of silk separated him from the sweet recesses he so desired.

  She laughed nervously, but the laughter turned into a moan as he slid his hand inside her panties to cup her bare bottom. He dipped his head under her chin to flick his tongue over the tops of her breasts. She rewarded him with a guttural sound that he wouldn’t have believed could come from such a petite woman.

  “All right,” she said. “You win. But you’re going to explain this—oh, yessss!—to the mayor if we get caught.”

  “Believe me, it’s not going to last that long.” He reached for his belt, unfastening it with one yank. Wendy took over from there, unfastening and unzipping his trousers. In moments she had freed him from the confines of his clothing. She grasped his arousal, and it was his turn to groan. He wanted to explode right then and there.

  “It�
��s now or never, sweets.” He lifted her dress higher and bunched it around her waist, then slid her panties down to her knees.

  “Can we do this standing up?” she asked, though she didn’t resist at all when he bent his knees and brought her closer, preparing to enter paradise.

  “I could do it on my head if that’s what it took,” he said, lifting her slightly, then impaling her.

  Sweet heaven, he’d never felt anything like Wendy all around him in their own garden of delights, the scent of honeysuckle heavy on the air, the buzz of insects serenading their dance of passion.

  “Oh, Michael, I know this isn’t the right time to tell you this, but I love you. I must. I would never act this crazy with someone I didn’t love.”

  He stilled for just a moment and reveled in those words. He’d never imagined a woman’s love could make him feel like such a … such a man.

  “See, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Shh,” he said, moving inside her by pulling her against him with the most subtle of motions. He almost said it back. But he knew from experience that making a promise he couldn’t keep was worse than keeping silent.

  They spoke no more as their passions took complete control of them. Michael held back, prolonging their coupling longer than he’d predicted. But he’d be damned if he would take his pleasure before she’d enjoyed hers. And he knew from their night together that she would. He only hoped she could keep from screaming this time, or a hundred cops would come running to see who was being murdered.

  When she reached her climax, he watched her face, enthralled at the rapture he saw there. Then she pressed her face into his shoulder and muffled her cries of ecstasy. His own peak of pleasure followed soon after. Only after he’d made one final thrust and released himself inside her did he realize they’d done it again. Like a couple of ignorant, horny teenagers, they’d forgotten to use any form of birth control.

  He didn’t care. He wanted her to bear his children, he thought with a rush of understanding. Why had he fought the feelings? So, he’d known her for less than a week. That was long enough. Screw the FBI. He’d stay in Dallas and make babies with Wendy.