Raspberry Crush (13 page)

"Are you okay?" he asked in a low, soft voice.

Blurrily she nodded, while his sensuously heated touch undid her senses and muddled her mind with sexy, forbidden thoughts.

Fluidly, his hands slid over to her shoulder blades and tenderly caressed her through her white cotton shirt. Maybe it was purely a comforting gesture, but Billy perceived it only as seductive. The heat from Seth's hands branded her back, seeping into her skin, and rushed through her veins—straight to her crotch.

God, why did Seth turn her on so much? (And was it wrong to ask God about this?)

Now she noticed that his gaze was burning, just like his hands. With smoldering intensity, he bored through her with his eyes, and Billy's breath stalled in her lungs. Their faces mere inches apart, she zeroed in on Seth's mouth. Sensuous and tempting... she remembered what it was like to kiss that mouth. The way Seth always folded his mouth gently over hers and then slid his tongue in like a snake. A random but achingly sexy image popped into Billy's mind: Seth tearing open her shirt, sending buttons flying, and burying his face in her naked cleavage. It might be worth getting arrested for public indecency just for the hot, racy thrill of losing control with him, of feeling his open mouth on her breast—

"Billy..." he said huskily, lowering his face to hers.
Oh, God, it's really happening,
she thought hazily, raising herself on tiptoe, bringing her lips magnetically toward his. Blood thundered through her veins as the hot, suffocating chemistry between them reduced her breathing to shallow panting. She wanted to devour him, to lie down right here, right now, to peel off her panties and—

"Aaahhh!"

A woman's scream rang through the air, startling everyone, including Billy and Seth, who jumped apart.

"Aah! Ahh!" the
screamer continued. "He's dead! He's dead!"

Dead?

Dead!

Feverishly, people rushed over toward the center of the square. Billy hurried, too, but being five-two was a hindrance, because she couldn't see anything over the heads of everyone else. Somehow she wormed into a tiny space and saw a man lying lifelessly on the ground. With a gasp she covered her mouth and turned into Seth, who wrapped his arms around her. "Oh, God," Billy choked, not as prepared as she'd thought she'd been to see a dead body.

"Don't look," Seth whispered, hugging her and letting Billy bury her face in his warm, solid chest.

"Oh, my God, it's Ted Schneider!" she heard Sally say.

"What happened?" someone called out.

"One minute he seemed fine, and the next he just collapsed," someone else replied.

"Pam, you're a doctor," Sally said. "Maybe you should examine the body."

"I'm not a doctor," Pam stated flatly, then shrugged. "Maybe he had a heart attack. But someone should call the paramedics." (Thank God for Pam's vital expert advice.)

Pockets and purses rustled in a mad rush for cell phones, and Billy pushed out of Seth's hug. Hurriedly, she moved through the crowd and dropped to her knees in front of Ted's body. He wasn't dead, only passed out. That was what she told herself as she fearfully pressed her fingers to his throat, desperately hoping to feel a pulse. But there was nothing, only stillness, lifelessness, and up this close she could see that his eyes weren't even closed, but at half-mast.
Oh, dear God...

"The paramedics are on their way!" Greg Dappaport announced. "I called Deputy Trellis, too."

The manic chattering that followed seemed to drown Billy, descending into a miasma of empty clamor as she swallowed away a lump of anxiety and fought back the irrational tears that stung her eyes. She didn't deal with death well; ever since her best friend had died in a plane crash when she was twelve, Billy's heightened awareness of her own mortality had been a black mark on the back of her mind.

Death up close shook her, rattled her almost frantically, and thank God Seth was beside her again, coaxing her to her feet and into his arms. Shutting her eyes, she buried her face in his chest and tightened her arms around him as he gently rubbed her back. The dead man was a stranger to her, but for some reason what she did know about him seemed unsettling. He was new in town, obviously not too popular; he liked Donna's fruity pink cocktails, was deathly allergic to nuts, and he'd been the burly, bearded man arguing on the beach—so angry and so alive just a few hours earlier.

Chapter 10

Corryn was freezing in her green cotton scrubs, which was kind of ironic, because she was trolling for ice cream. A craving had hit her between episodes of
House Hunters,
and she figured Pike Bishop could use the walk, so she'd thrown her fleece pullover on top of her pajamas, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and headed around the corner, onto Newbury Street.

"Come on," she said, tugging lightly on Pike's leash when he stopped to sniff something on the sidewalk. After she took one last drag, she tossed out her cigarette. "Come on, sweetie." Relenting, Pike walked with her down three steps to the left, into a tiny espresso and ice-cream shop almost lost between two trendy, glittering restaurants.

While she was waiting in line, Corryn caught a glimpse of her reflection in the chrome of the ice-cream case. Holy hell, she looked like complete crap. And wait a second... what was
that?

Squinting, she hunched down for a better look at the dark, thick smudge along her jaw, and realized it was a remnant streak of the mud mask she'd donned during
Seinfeld.
Using her sleeve she rubbed, but it was all crusted over, so only half of it flaked off. Oh, who cared how she looked anyhow? She was just here to stuff her face with ice cream and walk it off at the same time. With any luck she'd be in bed (alone) by eleven, with Pike guarding her front door.

Sounded perfect—and with the exception of Billy's dog, a typical Saturday night.

"Next!" called the kid behind the counter.

"Hi," Corryn said, stepping forward, "can I have a waffle cone with a scoop of Vanilla and a scoop of Mocha Madness—"

"Yeah," the kid said, turning to get it.

"And a scoop of Mint Chocolate Chip," she finished.

"Oh—okay, yeah," the kid said, sounding surprised by her appetite.

After she paid, Corryn hurried out of the shop, because Pike was getting restless. Once he was out in the night air, he became more himself—alert, protective, and stopping every few feet to sniff the sidewalk. Gently, she nudged the leash. "Come on, come on, sweetie," she urged. Balancing her giant cone with only one hand was trickier than she'd thought.

Just then, a dog barked loudly across the street. Pike jumped into action, barking like crazy, as Corryn let out a startled yelp and tried to rein him in. He was practically circling in place, trying to get to the hyper dog across the street. "C'mon, settle down," Corryn coaxed, tightly gripping the leash and no longer paying attention to her ice-cream cone, which had started to tip. Finally the other dog disappeared with its owner, and Pike settled down—just as one of Corryn's ice-cream scoops rolled out of the waffle cone and onto her sneaker with a splat.

"Oh,
damn
it," she cursed, "damn it, damn it!" Passersby doled out pitying looks, while Corryn lost her anger and bent to wipe some of the semifrozen slop off her Nike with the one-ply napkin she'd gotten inside the ice-cream shop. It wasn't exactly working wonders.

"Need some help?"

Corryn looked up and saw a tall man standing above her, bearing napkins. The streetlight wasn't falling his way, so she couldn't make out his face, but she was too preoccupied with her cold, wet shoe to notice. "Thanks," she said, eagerly taking the stack from him, "thank you so much. God, I don't know how I do these things."

"Hold on," he said, and ducked into the shop. Seconds later he returned with more napkins. As Corryn finished drying off her sneaker, the kind stranger bent to pet the dog. "Well, take care," he said.

And as he moved past her, Corryn's eyes caught the shiny glare of something on his belt. A police badge... and then she placed the voice. No, it
couldn't
be. Whipping around, she squinted into the darkness, trying to see if the man walking away from her now was the pervert from the T. Inevitably, there was only one way to find out.

"Hey!" she shouted to him. "Wait!" He stopped and turned, and now the streetlight was hitting his face, which looked confused—not to mention extremely familiar. "It
is
you!" she said.

"Huh? Oh...
Christ.
"
Obviously it clicked for him, too. Running his hand over his face, as though tired already, he walked back toward her.

On her guard, Corryn held her back straight, while her heart pounded hard in her ears and blood thundered through her veins. She couldn't believe it; she'd never expected to see him again! "Hi, there," he said when they were only a few feet apart. "I'm Joe. Joe Montgomery." He held out his hand, and she recoiled like he had fleas, so he set it back down at his side. "Look, about what happened on the subway the other day... I'm not sure what I did to offend you, but I'm sorry I made you upset."

"Are you saying it wasn't you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Wasn't me what?"

"Who tweaked my nipple," she replied with exasperation, and Joe snorted a laugh. "It's not funny!"

"No, no, you're right—I'm sorry, it's just... I don't know; it sounds funny." Just then, as if automatic, his gaze dropped to her breasts. Corryn swallowed hard, grateful for the heavy fleece concealing her nipples, which were probably prickling under her scrubs right now. "Anyway, I can promise you it was not me," Joe went on. "That train was so packed, it could've been anyone."

Hmm... she supposed he had a point.

Now he smiled gently at her, and she noticed little lines around his eyes that matched the ones around his mouth. There was something rugged about him—something craggy and sexy—and without thinking, Corryn dropped her gaze to his left hand. No ring.
Jesus, what am I thinking?

"So, do you forgive me?" he asked lightly. "Even though I'm innocent?"

"Well..." After a pause, Corryn grinned. "I suppose."

Joe bent down to pet Pike's head again. "I never got your name," he said, looking up at her.

"It's Corryn."

"Joe," he said, extending his hand again, and this time she took it. His smile was easy, attractive, and... suspicious. No, she did not trust that smile, even if she did like looking at it.

Grinning, he said, "So what do you do when you're not getting groped on the E line?"

Vaguely she heard the question, but was mostly sidetracked by Joe's chest. He wore a sweater and a lightweight coat, and he was just so massive-looking, especially compared to her, that she couldn't help wondering what it would be like to sleep with a big, overpowering guy like him... and where else might he be big and overpowering?

Not that she intended to find out.

Please.
Not like
he intended to show her—what, with her tantrum on the subway, and now tonight's five-star appearance.

"Okay, I'll start," he said when she didn't answer. "I'm a homicide detective."

"Oh, right—I'm a Realtor."

"That sounds interesting."

"It
does?"

Joe chuckled, then said, "Listen, I don't know what you're doing now, but would you maybe want to go for a cup of coffee? There's a little place down the street. My treat."

"But I don't even know you," Corryn said, scrunching her face warily.

"Hence the cup of coffee," he replied, grinning.

She realized how socially inept she looked, but he'd caught her off guard. Anyway, why should she go for coffee? She was just going on an ice-cream run, and Pike was restless; besides, if she wasn't mistaken, there was a
30-minute Meals
marathon on in half an hour. Obviously she had a full night, and anyway, she was suddenly feeling tired.

Shaking her head, she tugged lightly on Pike's leash. "No, no, I don't want to," she said, then amended, "I mean, I can't." In the back of her mind, she wondered why she was acting like a rude asshole, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

"Okay, no problem," he said with a brief nod. "Take care." When he disappeared down the street, Corryn realized her legs were trembling a little. It had been a long time since she'd gone out with a man, and... well, of all the men to go out with, a cocky, muscular cop just seemed like the stupidest choice. One driven solely by hormones, which made up the most destructively oblivious part of herself.

A gust of wind blew, and as she bundled her scarf up tighter, she felt something hard along the side of her chin. What the—Oh,
damn.
She'd forgotten all about her crusty mask residue, which had been on her face the whole time. Talk about embarrassing! With a hapless sigh, she buried her face in her hands.
Oh, hell.
So much for her typical Saturday night—a muddy beard, a hunky stranger, her heart still racing and no effing mint chocolate chip.

* * *

Ted Schneider's dropping dead put a damper on the jubilee. Things had wrapped up quickly after the paramedics came and took the body away. Deputy Trellis had arrived on the scene, looking like he was barely out of high school. Apparently Sheriff Mueller was on vacation in Marblehead for the next two weeks. With him Trellis brought the medical examiner, who stated that Ted Schneider had died from an allergic reaction to nuts.

Jesus.

After the medical examiner noticed pronounced swelling in Ted's neck, he realized that Ted's throat had closed up and that he'd died, in fact, from suffocation. Once Billy and Mrs. Tailor said that Ted had mentioned a nut allergy, the case was closed as far as the ME was concerned.

Of course, Deputy Trellis questioned the catering staff, but considering that Georgette had told Ted specifically what foods to avoid—with Billy and Mrs. Tailor as her witnesses—there wasn't any reason to assume that Ted, in his apparent drunkenness, hadn't simply gotten confused and eaten one of the items Georgette had warned him about. The ME highly doubted the possibility of "cross-contamination"—or that Ted had ingested something that touched something
else
with traces of nuts—because he said that whatever Ted had eaten most likely had a very high concentration of nuts to kill him so quickly.