Hot Contact (12 page)

“You get what you needed from Zamora?” Doc asked.

“We got what he would give us,” Arianna said. “Which wasn't much. I appreciate your keeping an eye on him for us.”

“You'll get my bill.”

“I'm sure. Look, are you interested in the least in coming to work for ARC or am I just spinning my wheels here?”

“Direct. I like that. Well, Ms. Alvarado, if I weren't ‘interested in the least' I wouldn't be here.”

Arianna waited until their server put their iced teas on the table before she continued. “I think Sam told you we want to open a branch office in the city. He wants you.”

“You say that as if you don't.”

“I have a hard time trusting someone who doesn't give his name.”

“You're wondering what I'm hiding?”

“Yes.”

He stirred some sugar into his tea, keeping her waiting, his expression benign. She wanted to dislike him, but she found she couldn't. He seemed amused by her, but not in a condescending way.

“I wonder if you know what your reputation is,” he said.

“It's solid. We worked hard to earn it.”

“I mean you personally.”

She glanced at Joe in time to see the hint of a smile on
his lips. She leaned back, crossed her legs and lifted her brows. “You're going to tell me, I assume.”

“Smart,” Doc said. “The logic skills of a man. Not afraid to use your body as a weapon, physically and sexually.”

“I don't prostitute to get information.”

“Didn't mean it that way. I meant you're not opposed to using your cleavage as a distraction. Some men are stupid enough to fall for that.”

Joe laughed. Choked. Took a swallow of tea. Over the rim of his glass he met Arianna's steely gaze.

Doc eyed Joe. “Who are you, exactly? I haven't seen your name as part of the firm.”

“LAPD. Robbery-Homicide division.”

Doc raised his glass in a toast. “Last I checked, cops and P.I.s don't exactly collaborate.”

“We're proving it's a myth,” Arianna said, realizing she wasn't offended by his description of her. It was the truth, after all. Although the “logic skills of a man” part could've been considered an insult. “Joe and I partnered up on an investigation. A personal one.”

Over lunch Arianna and Joe shared the details of the case. Doc asked good questions then, as they finished, he said, “I'd look at the woman again.”

“Mary Beth?” Arianna asked.

“Both of you thought there was something off with her.”

“Yes, but then we found out it was because she was having an affair with my father.”

“Maybe that's not all there was to it. Your mother said she told you everything she knew. Zamora won't tell you anything else. Joe's father's notes might not ever be deciphered. Mary Beth is the only one left.”

“We'll talk it over. So—” she set her silverware on her
empty plate “—are you ready to work out of an office? Have people know your name? Come out of the shadows and into the light?”

He actually smiled. “Maybe. I'll let you know.”

“We offer great benefits. A steady income. Bonuses.”

“We'd have to talk about money. I'm not taking a cut. In fact, I figure you'd owe me a signing bonus for what I'd be bringing to your firm.”

“Everything's negotiable.”

“All right. I'll get back to you.”

When? she wanted to ask, but knew she couldn't push him. Actually, he was a lot like Sam, which is probably why she liked him right away. “You've got my number,” she said.

He nodded then stood. “I'll be interested in knowing how your personal case comes out.”

“I'm only sharing that with ARC employees,” she said sweetly.

He laughed and shook her hand.

“Not averse to female bosses, are you, Doc?” she asked.

“Averse to bosses in general, Arianna. But I could probably work with you okay. See you.” He included Joe in his farewells then was gone.

“That was entertaining,” Joe said.

Arianna felt better than she had in days. “Yes, it was.”

“Do you think he'll work for you?”

“If we can meet his demands, yes.”

“Will you meet them?

“We'd be crazy not to.”

He folded his napkin and set it beside his plate. “So, if I were interested in working for ARC, would you hire me?”

His tone was casual, but his expression wasn't. “You've
got what it takes,” she said. “But I think you like being a cop too much to leave.”

“That wasn't my question.”

“Would I hire you? I'd be crazy not to.” She stood, ending the discussion. The thought of them working together was way too appealing. “Let's go home.”

O
n Sunday morning Joe set down rules for the day—all play, no work. They couldn't go to see Mary Beth Horvath until Monday, anyway, but he also wanted a day without examining, discussing and agonizing over their fathers. Just one day. By tomorrow the investigation would probably have run its course. Either they'd have the truth or they'd have to learn to live with never knowing the truth.

So, today was critical. Arianna was becoming as obsessed as he'd been when he was dealing with his parents' illnesses, his broken engagement, then his mother's death and a case he couldn't solve, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't want Arianna to reach the point of burnout that he had. She needed to find the balance he'd only recently found again himself.

“A day of play,” she said as they sipped coffee and read the Sunday paper in his bed. “What will we do?”

He smiled at her look of bewilderment. “You say that like you have no idea what a day off means.”

“I know what it means. I just don't do it much. Not an entire day.”

She looked beautiful, as she always did first thing in the morning, without makeup, her hair mussed, and wearing one of his shirts.

“We go out someplace nice for brunch,” he said. “We see if the Jackie Chan marathon you missed last week is still running. Or we drive down to San Diego and go to the zoo or Sea World. We play, Arianna. We have fun.”

She set her coffee mug on the nightstand then faced him, sitting cross-legged. “You have tickets to a Lakers game. I saw them tucked into your bedroom mirror the first night I was here. You took them down, but I saw they were for today.”

He folded up the sports section and slipped it under the classified ads. “Four of us went in on two season tickets years ago.”

“So you go to every fourth game?”

“It doesn't work out that neatly, but that's the theory.”

“Did you give your tickets for today away?”

She was in an interrogation mode. Her gaze never wavered. Her tone of voice was matter-of-fact. He knew exactly where her line of questioning was headed.

“I haven't given the tickets away yet, but I won't have any problem finding someone who wants them,” he said then leaned against the headboard and waited.

“I'd like to go.”

No surprise there. “Why?”

“I've never been to a game.”

“Do you follow basketball?”

“I read the sports section. I know the players' names. Why weren't you going to tell me about the tickets?” She
didn't pause long enough to let him answer. “Do you see Jane there?”

Finally, the question he'd been waiting for. “Occasionally. It's her job to be there. But we haven't spoken.” He had nothing to say to his former fiancée.

“Have you taken dates to games before?”

“Yes.”

Something flickered in her eyes. Jealousy? It was hard to believe. She would be the one to make other women jealous.

“But not this season, which has barely started. I've only taken a buddy,” he said, intrigued by her businesslike demeanor. She'd told him once that she'd never even considered marriage. Did she hold men at bay by keeping control of her feelings as well as the relationship? He could see how that could easily happen, except she had yielded to him at times during the past couple of weeks, so maybe he was off-base about that. “Do you really want to go?”

“I do.”

He liked that she didn't play any games with him. She didn't act coy, but was direct. “Okay.”

“There's time for brunch first, though, right?”

He managed to get her flat on the mattress and under him with a couple of quick maneuvers. She had the expertise to have prevented him from gaining dominance, so he took it as acceptance that she was in the position she was in.

“We have time for lots of things first,” he said.

She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. “A marathon?”

“Tonight,” he said against her lips. It would probably be their last night together in his house. He would give her a reason to come back—provided what they learned about their fathers wasn't too much for them to overcome.

 

Joe watched Arianna disappear into the crowd at Staples Center, home of the L.A. Lakers. Knowing how long the line was for the women's restroom, he leaned his shoulders against a nearby wall and got comfortable, a boot propped against the wall and a beer in hand.

He'd enjoyed watching her not only take in the game but become a part of it. She shouted every sports cliché known to man, making particular reference to one referee's apparent visual and intellectual handicaps, then she looked at Joe and grinned, her eyes sparkling.

He'd been wrong. She knew how to have fun.

“Joe?”

He turned toward the voice, but he already knew who it was. Jane. She looked different. She'd cut her blond hair short and wasn't wearing her glasses. She wore a Lakers-purple pantsuit on her petite body. He towered over her, a thought that confused him. She hadn't seemed short when he'd been with her.

He wondered at his lack of reaction to seeing her now. Nothing. He felt nothing.

“Enjoying the game?” she asked.

“Too close for comfort.”

She smiled. “They'll come back in the second half. How have you been?”

He hoped Arianna would be delayed a while longer. Introducing her to Jane would likely take the fun out of the play day. “I'm well. You?”

“I'm fine, thanks. I see you brought a date.”

Yeah, so? he wanted to say. Instead he said nothing.

“You look happy, Joe.”

“I am.” He hadn't realized how happy until she pointed it out. At some point during the week his insomnia had disappeared and his stomach settled down to banked coals instead of a roaring fire. He could remember his mother as
she was before the cancer. And his father before the Alzheimer's had claimed his mind. Joe was feeling very good about all of it.

“So, you're over us,” she said.

“Long ago.”

She winced a little at that. “Good. I wouldn't have made you happy, you know. Not for long. I was naive about what it's like being married to a cop. I thought loving you would be enough. But your mother set me straight about that.”

He came to attention. “My mother? When was that?”

She frowned. “I told you before. During her first round of chemo, when I took her to her doctor's appointment.”

“I don't remember.”

“I asked her how she dealt with a man who wouldn't share his feelings.”

“I remember you saying that, but I thought you were talking about my father.”

“Why would I care about that?”

He didn't know, but she hadn't told him the question had been about him. “What did she say?”

“That I would learn not to take it personally. That men, especially cops, think they're doing women a favor by not sharing what they see on the job and how they react to it. I knew I couldn't live with a man who didn't share the bad along with the good.”

He realized then why he'd loved her once. She'd tried to get him to open up. She'd tried hard.

She laid a hand on his arm. He couldn't pull away without making it seem too important.

“I left something out when I told you about that talk with your mom,” she said, her voice hushed. “She said that no matter what I did or how hard I tried, sometimes I wouldn't be able to reach you. And that sometimes if I tried too hard, it would have the opposite effect, and you would
go to someone else, someone uncomplicated and undemanding.”

Her words stunned him, especially since they'd come from his mother. “Meaning I would cheat?”

“Only that the possibility existed. I realized I didn't want to live with that or deal with that.”

“I would say that possibility exists in every relationship, not just a cop's.”

“True. But I'd seen the truth already. You took care of your parents—you alone. You hardly ever let me help. You thought I couldn't handle it.”

“You couldn't. You told me it was too much for you.”

“I meant the way you shut down and shut me out.” She dropped her hand from his arm. “Look, Joe, I'm sorry. I don't know why I brought it up. It's over and done.” She turned away.

The meaning behind her words finally sank in. He grabbed her arm. “Are you saying my father had an affair?”

“Your mother didn't say so specifically.”

Added to the possibility his father had been part of a cover-up over Mateo Alvarado's murder, the idea that he'd cheated on his mother numbed Joe. Impossible. His parents had been best friends as well as partners. Jane had misunderstood his mother, that's all. She'd been speaking in generalities.

“I really am sorry, Joe. I only meant to say hello and that I'm glad you're happy again.” She walked away.

He didn't watch her. He didn't see anything until Arianna put herself directly in front of him.

“What's wrong?” she asked, concern in her eyes.

“Nothing,” he said after a moment. “Nothing.” He flung an arm around her shoulders and headed back to their
seats, realizing he was doing exactly what Jane said. He wasn't sharing his feelings.

But this wasn't the time or place for this particular disclosure. Maybe later. After they finished their investigation and there was no reason for her to stay at his house any longer. Maybe then.

Maybe.

 

Arianna sat on the bench beside the koi pond in Joe's backyard that evening while Joe returned a couple of phone calls. She'd waited all afternoon for him to tell her he'd talked with his former fiancée, but he hadn't brought it up. Not that Arianna knew for sure, but the conversation she'd observed between Joe and the blonde was too intense to be anything superficial. Arianna had hung back so that they wouldn't see her, so they could deal with whatever serious business was there between them, but also because she hadn't wanted to be introduced to the woman who'd broken Joe's heart.

Compounded by a difficult visit with Joe's father before the game, when Mike had been more confused than Joe recalled seeing him, Arianna was ready for the marathon he'd promised. More than ready. Eager. Anxious. She wanted him to forget about Jane and whatever that woman had said to put the look of shock Arianna had seen on his face. She wanted him to forget everything tonight except pleasure.

“Nice evening,” Joe said, joining her on the bench by straddling it, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against his chest.

“Beautiful.” She rested her arms on his and closed her eyes.

“All day,” he said close to her ear, “I've been intrigued
by this tiny bit of black lace.” He hooked a finger into the V of her blouse and exposed more than a bit of her bra.

“Good,” she said, smiling.

“Tease.”

“You promised me a marathon. You don't think that was the ultimate tease?”

“You've been thinking about it?” he asked.

“Only every second.” She felt him unbutton her blouse, not hurrying, then with his thumb and forefinger he rubbed the teardrop-shaped gold pendant that lay just above her cleavage. He slipped his little finger under the edge of her bra and followed the line down to the clasp then up the other side. She let out a shaky breath.

She tried to turn around. He wouldn't let her.

“Relax,” he whispered into her ear.

She laughed, a small, quavering burst of air. “Then don't keep doing what you're doing.”

“Oh, I fully intend to keep doing it. But you need to relax and enjoy it.”

He stripped her blouse off her and set it across the bench in front of her. “Better?” he asked.

She nodded. “It would be even better if you took off your shirt.”

He stripped it off and tossed it on top of her blouse, then he nestled her against him again, skin to skin. She kicked off her shoes. Her skirt had shifted high on her thighs. He grabbed the fabric and tugged it even higher, until her legs were exposed to the night air.

He ran his hands along her thighs. “These are classified as weapons, aren't they? I like it when you wrap them around me and squeeze tight. I feel locked in.”

He dipped his fingers under her skirt, ran his fingertips lightly over her panties. She lifted toward his hand but he only toyed with her.

“You're driving me crazy,” she said, feeling out of control and yet not wanting to have any control, either. She wanted to get lost in his arms.

“Crazy's good.”

“I'll remind you that you said that.”

Joe wanted to dominate. He wanted not just to share the experience but to overwhelm her, to take her places she hadn't been, higher and deeper, and keep her there for longer than she'd ever experienced or ever would again.

Her bra clasp gave him little trouble. Soon his hands were filled with her breasts. He needed those hard nipples in his mouth right now.

“Stand up,” he whispered urgently.

She didn't hesitate but stood on the bench, facing him. He reached around her, unzipped her skirt and let it slide to the bench. She kicked it aside and waited.

He ignored the ache in his loins that was demanding satisfaction, pulled her down to straddle his lap, finally tasting her breasts, ignoring her nipples until she guided his head and held him tight, begging him.

The begging was nice, inspiring him to drag everything out longer. He figured she didn't beg often. When he had his fill of her, he laid her down on the bench. She gasped at the initial touch of cold wood against her back then seemed to forget it as he slipped her panties off.

“Joe,” she said, her voice full of need.

“Relax.”

She laughed, a strangled sound, flattering him. He dragged his fingers down her body lightly again and again. Finally he indulged himself and let his fingertips drift between her thighs. One thing he'd learned—a light touch beat out a heavy one any day.