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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


 

 

The initial euphoria that he’d felt upon seeing her was so overwhelming that he’d convinced himself that there was no harm in returning. He’d always practiced a certain amount of self-restraint, but she was forcing him to break all of his rules. His reward was watching her leave the little store with a scruffy, darkly dressed man. He saw him walk in, and assumed that he was there to see the red head. Instead of walking in, he waited. If the two of them left together, as he was hoping, she would be left alone and he would have the opportunity to finally have her all to himself. The scruffy man stepped back outside, scanning the street as if he could feel that he was being watched. There was no fear of being found out – he was well out of view. Moments later, she joined the man just as he was ending a phone call. She smiled at him. It wasn’t an adoring smile, but it still irked him that she would so freely lavish a stranger with her grace and beauty. The man was beneath her, less than worthy to walk in her presence. He was the obvious match, the clear choice.

Beset with feelings of anger and betrayal, yet knowing it was for naught, he left. He must maintain control of both himself and the situation. He would wait. Observing the way she’d interacted with the man, he knew that she wasn’t interested. Though, the same could not be said for the man. He lusted after her; the way his eyes lingered over the swell of her cleavage, the sway of her hip told him as much. She is mine, his soul cried out. Should the man--or anyone else--interfere, he would simply resolve the matter.

 

#

 

                For the first time in a long while, I was happy to leave the house and go to work. Leigha had alternated between fantasizing about the detective and hounding me about Mrs. Barnhard’s nephew, Casey all of Saturday and into Sunday. I was only able to gain a reprieve by claiming I had a headache and going to bed at 6:30. For all her talk, a person would think she was the one who’d somehow gotten roped into future encounters with both men. Unfortunately, I was the one with the date with Casey and the meeting with Detective Quinn.

“Nicole,” the nasally voice of the receptionist blasted though my phone speaker. Unlike all of the other life sized dolls that worked in the office, Mallory was short, chubby, and down to earth. We were the two sore thumbs of Fusion Matchmaking.

“Yes, Mallory?”

“There’s a gentleman here to see you. I sent him on through.” How she’d managed not to get fired yet was beyond me. She wasn’t always one for protocol.

“Did you happen to get his name,” I asked. The exasperation in my tone was poorly masked.

“No, he said you were expecting him. But he was really cute and wearing a killer suit.” That described almost sixty percent of our male clientele. Thirty percent was made up of doctors and surgeons, who liked to show up in scrubs so we all knew that they’d come from the hospital. Sadie implemented a dress code at happy hour mixers for that very reason. The final ten percent were those rare finds – the guys who made the big bucks but were more than happy to stroll in wearing T-shirts and frayed blue jeans. I always enjoyed working with those men. Everyone else tried to ‘clean them up’; I thought it made them look real and approachable.

“Okay, Mallory. Thank you.” I released the intercom button just as my door opened.

“Good morning Ms. James, I’ve come for my debriefing.” Byron crossed the distance from the door to my desk with an air of ownership and control. Instead of sitting in the chairs provided for clients and guests, he propped a hip on the edge of my desk. I heard my papers crinkle beneath him. I took off my reading glasses and looked up at him.

“It isn’t necessary for you to sit on my desk. We can go over your reactions from Friday’s event just as well with you sitting over there,” I directed his attention to the turquoise and emerald chairs on the other side of the desk.

“If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to fully appreciate how beautiful you look today. Something must have happened this weekend to inspire such a glow.”

“Then it must be the new light bulbs that maintenance put in, I had the same uneventful weekend I always do. But we aren’t here to discuss my social life, Byron.”

“If you insist, Nicole.” He seemed a little exasperated by my response, but never dropped his cocky smile.

Once he’d situated himself in the chair I offered, I proceeded with the meeting. “I looked over your follow up card, and it seems that we’ve struck out yet again. I can’t help you if you aren’t going to be honest with me about what you’re looking for in a match.”

“I thought I made it perfectly clear what I’m looking for. All of the women you keep throwing at me are just the female version of me. I asked Sadie to let me work with you because I thought you would understand what I need. Don’t be like all those other she-bots. Stop looking at the profile, because I can tell you right now I lied on the entire thing.”

“You did what! Why would you do that when you know full well that’s how we get to know our clients?”

“If you want to successfully match me, and get another feather for your cap, you’ll have to deal with me – not the file.”

“I have dealt with you, Byron,” I countered. “You see this as a game. You don’t want a wife or even a girlfriend. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why you’re paying so much money for a service you could easily do without.”

“Your little friend seemed to do just fine with fixing me up, and I only spoke with her for five minutes.” The cook. I’d totally forgotten about Leigha’s ‘gift’.

“You failed to mention her in your follow up.”

“She didn’t last very long. It was hardly worth the time it would have taken me to write about it.”

“Then why mention her now?” I hated to admit it, but the man had a way of ruffling my feathers. I could see him coming a mile away, and yet he was constantly finding ways of getting under my skin.

“To prove my point. I never said I didn’t enjoy our brief tete-a-tete, in fact it was quite fulfilling.” He rose from the chair and checked his watch, with just enough flair to make me wince. “Find me a plain, simple, normal girl.” At that, he turned and left. How was I supposed to find a ‘simple girl’ willing to put up with his pompous attitude? I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the cook from the restaurant went running for the hills after Byron uttered the words ‘my yacht’ for the twentieth time.

I barely had time to recover and recompose myself before my door opened and Mallory’s head popped in.

“Hey Nicole,” I must have had a look of extreme annoyance because the poor girl began stumbling over her words. “Oh, Ms. James. You, uh. You have another, um, another visitor. Would you like me to show him in?”

“Is he standing behind you Mallory?”

“Yes. But I can take him back out if you’d like.”

“That won’t be necessary; you can have him come in. Thank you.”

Her head quickly pulled away from the door opening, like a turtle tucking its head into its shell. Next to appear, was the man from Leigha’s shop, Casey. It was my second time seeing him, and for the second time my brain was on system overload. The first thing I noticed was the look on his face. It was an odd blend of extreme focus and mild amusement. I also noticed that, again, he was impeccably dressed. I left my chair and walked around to greet him, and close the door to prying ears and eyes.

“I hope that I haven’t interrupted anything important. The gentleman I saw leaving a moment ago seemed none too happy.”

“Oh, no you’re perfect. I mean, fine. You’re perfectly fine,” I cringed at how obviously scatter-brained I sounded. “I’m not busy. Why don’t you have a seat?”

“Thank you, but no,” he smiled. “I hadn’t intended to stay. I just wanted to tell you it was a pleasure meeting you yesterday.”

“You could have called to do that. I’d hate to think you went out of your way because of me.”

“If I’d done that, I would have missed seeing how beautiful you look again today. And it would have been much harder to convince you to have dinner with me. You may not be ready to date, but I am quite capable at being a good friend, even if my reasons are selfish.” As he spoke, Casey stalked across the office towards me. Only when I collided with my desk did I realize that with each step he took, I was moving just as steadily in reverse. Even then, he continues his advance crowding my personal space, forcing me to sit on the edge of the desk. I felt like a rabbit caught in a snare. By the time he stopped, his legs were positioned on either side of mine. It took every ounce of control I had not to look down at the quasi-sexual position we were in. Instead, I kept my eyes glued to the hollow of his neck. The soft twill of his pants brushed against my bare knees, and I could feel the tension in his thighs as he subtly flexed his muscle. His warm breath fanned against my cheek as I watched the slow, deliberate rise and fall of his chest beneath the button-down shirt he wore.

Get a hold of yourself, my brain screamed at me. This was the very behavior that had gotten me into the whole mess with Dominic, and that turned into one giant ‘cluster’.

“Don’t worry, Nikki,” Casey gently whispered. “I only came here to thank you for the gift of your time and to seek the opportunity to enjoy it further.” He gathered my hand in his and, with eyes locked with my own, he brought it to his lips. I’d had my hand kissed before. It was usually really quick and really dry. What Casey did, in all fairness, I cannot call a kiss. His lips were soft, almost pillow-like. Rather than the chaste peck on the back of my hand, he caressed my fingers, just below my knuckles, with his lips. Finally, he did kiss the soft, fleshy crease between my third and fourth finger. Any part of me that hadn’t already melted was well on its way. “I will be calling on you very soon. Until then, I hope you think of me fondly.” I blinked, and he was on the other side of the door, pulling it closed. I was still sitting on the edge of my desk wondering how in the hell I’d allowed such a thing to occur. A small part of me wanted it to occur on a much more regular basis.

 

#

 

After an exhausting, and none too enlightening weekend of interviewing every antique store owner in the area, the last place Quinn wanted to be was back at work. The notes that Marconi made on the old case files were useless. There may well have been some good information there, but Quinn was damned if he could read it. Calling the scrawled words chicken scratch would have been an insult to chickens. Getting nowhere fast, he needed to step away and clear his head. Lunch at The Old Pub was just the break he needed. Nothing like smoke-filled air, a rugby match, and a corned beef sandwich to settle a guy’s nerves. Now, he was returning to the fray. Walking into the precinct, he was instantly met with sobering drunks who reeked of stale booze, combative prostitutes, and wannabe hoods.

“Hey Quinn,” the desk clerk yelled across the overcrowded room. “D.A.’s waiting on you.” That was all the information he could expect to get, yet it was more than he wanted. He automatically knew that she’d want one of two things. Quinn could only hope that this time it was work related.

In an effort to delay the inevitable, Quinn took the six flights of stairs up. He had no leads, no suspects, minimal evidence, ever mounting questions, and an impatient press hounding him daily. He could do without the overambitious district attorney looking for political advancement. Initially, her drive and dominating personality intrigued him. He was the new guy in the office, and she was the welcome wagon. Quinn later realized that the DA was looking for a lap dog. He’d quickly decided that he would let some other poor sap be at her every beck and call. Four flights up, Quinn started to feel winded. He was too young to feel as old as he did.

“Yeah,” he huffed answering his phone.

“You sound like you’re dying.”

“If I were, I’d hate to know that you were the last person I talked to. Is there a reason this couldn’t wait until I got upstairs, Marconi?”

“The way you sound, I can’t be too sure you’ll make it up here.” Quinn hung up the phone. Talking to Marco was like trying to have a conversation with one of his exes – nothing was ever resolved and he was always left even more frustrated. By the time he made it to his division, Marco was nowhere to be seen. In fact, almost the entire room was cleared. The few brave souls that remained were trying desperately to shrink out of sight behind their computers. Pricilla Dunn’s abrasiveness had the same effect on a room as a crazed gunman – people either ran or tried to duck and cover to avoid being hit by a stray bullet. When it came to Quinn, she was a sniper with a laser sight.

“Corwin.” Somehow, whenever she said his name it sounded like a cross between a purr and a growl. It never sounded good.

“S’there something I can help you with Ms. Dunn?” Quinn made no attempt to hide his wariness or irritation at her visit.

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I understand you were able to get some information regarding the veils used to cover the victims.”

“We have some preliminary stuff, but nothing to write a warrant for. The veils are old. That’s all we know.”

“I was hoping for more than that, Corwin.” Pricilla crossed her arms under her bust. “Surely you understand the importance of having this matter resolved quickly.” How she was able to be flirtatious and hateful at the same time boggled his mind.

“I get calls from the families every week begging for information and updates that I don’t have. I’ve got a pretty clear understanding of how important this is.” Quinn’s already sour mood was rapidly deteriorating.

“Good. I’d hate to think,” before she could issue her hollow threat Marconi sauntered out of Chief Campbell’s office.

“Hey Quinn, ‘bout time you made it.” Quinn decided not to respond to the taunt. Marco had just saved him from further conversation with Pricilla.

“Duty calls, Ms. Dunn.” Not caring whether or not she had more to say, Quinn turned his back and focused his attention on Marconi.

“What’ve you got?”

“Victim number two had a boyfriend,” Marco’s words tumbled out of his mouth almost uncontrollably.

“How long have you been waiting to say that,” Quinn shook his head. He settled in to his chair and pulled the victim’s file from the box under his desk. Pricilla was still there; he was still ignoring her. Marconi looked between the two as though he were at a tennis match. Everyone in the precinct knew D.A. Dunn. She had an unnerving desire to be actively involved in every case she might take to trial. She was at the crime scene. She was in the Medical Examiner’s office. She was behind the glass during an interrogation. Not even a simple interview was conducted without her ever watchful eye. This was police work, real honest to God crimes that involved real people – she was treating it all like a primetime television show. Pricilla Dunn was always underfoot, and all in the name of an election. Quinn wasn’t going to give her a modicum of control.

“Don’t talk to her. Tell me about the boyfriend. Where’d you get this from?” Quinn had read over the cases so many times he had memorized them.

“I was going through all the interviews done right after the vic, um Cass something-or-other, went missing.”

“Marche,” Quinn interjected. “Her name was Cassandra Marche. What was in the interviews?”

“Well it looks like some small-time reporter talked to the sister during a neighborhood vigil. She mentioned something about Marche being excited about a new guy, and how terrible it was that something like this could happen just when her sister was getting back on track. Turns out the guy had a heart and came to us with the information before running the story.”

“What was the reporter’s name? Which detective did he talk to?”

“That’s the thing. No one ever followed up.”

“Alright. See if you can find the news article, and track down that reporter. If we’re lucky, maybe he’ll remember more of what the sister said. I’ll talk with the family and see if they ever met the boyfriend. Try not to let on that we dropped the ball, Marconi.”

 “I need to be there when you talk to the family, Corwin,” Pricilla cut in.

“No need for that Ms. Dunn,” Quinn brushed past her on his way to the elevator. “I’ll be sure to fill you in before your next press conference.”

Quinn walked out into the hall and stopped alongside Marconi. The two men exchanged looks, commiserating over the pain of dealing with such an exacting woman. Marconi shook his head and suddenly became engrossed in the toe of his shoe. Then his shoulders began bouncing erratically. Quinn turned to face him, intent on finding out what his partner was doing. Marconi, finally unable to contain himself, let loose with a burst of laughter.

“What the hell did you see in that woman?” Marconi managed to cough out the words as he tried, and failed, to calm himself. “Even I knew better than to try that one.”

“She has a nice ass.” The elevator doors opened, and the two men stepped inside. Quinn chuckled, and pushed the button to get to the main floor. “And you wouldn’t have lasted five minutes with her.”

“I just don’t want to waste my talent.” Marconi tried for smug and suave. Quinn rolled his eyes upward and watched the numbers tick down.

The elevator doors slid open and the detectives were greeted by the ever present stench and chaos of the precinct’s main processing and holding room. Turning a blind eye, the men wove through the crowd of desks and people. There seemed to be more activity than usual, Quinn noted. Uniformed cops were running in and out, and the dispatcher’s voice sounded frenzied over the radio.

“Where the hell have you ladies been,” the desk officer yelled red in the face.

“Dunn.” That was Quinn’s only response.

“Who’s looking for us,” Marconi asked as he shoved an ‘alleged’ drug dealer back down into his seat to finish waiting his turn for processing.

“You got a body,” the officer barked.

 






Chapter End Notes:

There you have it. Thank you again for hanging in there with me. It may not be as steamy as others, but I hope I'm keeping it interesting. Reviews/comments/suggestions are most welcome :)







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.