“Keep going?”
“Yes, please.”
The steady process began again, and he sipped at his coffee as he watched. Occasionally he stopped her on a shot, but always seemed to decide it wasn’t what he wanted.
“Dare I ask exactly what it is you’re looking for?”
“Something with a clear, closer shot of the left hand.”
She blinked. And in that moment guessed his intent.
With a series of clicks that went so fast he could barely keep up she went back to a photograph he’d rejected a few moments ago. She clicked on it, a menu popped up, and she seemed to pull it right out of the article-a report on the annual Gardner Corporation Christmas Gala-and it appeared in another window.
She began to work with what appeared to be some kind of photo software, and within a few minutes, she hit one last button and a new window began to fill with an enlarged, sharpened image.
When it was done, he was standing there staring at a piece of evidence that could make the case. It wasn’t razor sharp, and it lacked detail, but it was enough to make it clear his idea was possible.
“Can you print that?” His voice was a little tight.
“Sure.”
She hit two more buttons, and he heard the whir of a printer starting up. Then she turned to him.
“How did you know?”
“Something’s been bothering me every time we saw him.” He gestured at the subject in the photo. “And today, I finally figured it out. I think it was because we were out in the sun, so it was more obvious. A tan line, where a ring used to be.”
She turned to look at the picture still up on her monitor, and made the jump instantly. “The ring that explains those facial bruises. And he’s left-handed.”
“Yes.”
“And he’d easily be able to grab that security camera tape.”
“Yes.”
Her gaze shifted back to him. “Then we’ve got him?”
He shook his head. “It’s going to take more than a fuzzy newspaper photo. But it’s a good start.”
Darien turned to look once more at the photograph. She stared at it for what seemed like a long time, but Colin knew by now that her mind was probably racing. And then she spoke, and proved him right.
“A Gardner wouldn’t wear cheap jewelry, right?”
“Not likely.”
She swiveled in the chair and looked up at him. “Then wouldn’t it be likely that that ring is insured somewhere?”
His brows furrowed. “Probably. It would-” He stopped abruptly as what she was thinking hit him. “And insurance means photographs!”
“Detailed closeups, I’d expect. Is the name of the insurance company anywhere in the reports, for the items reported stolen?”
“Should be, it’s pretty routine.” He grinned at her. “Next time anybody hassles you about how you got this job, you send them to me.”
“I’ll do that.”
The look she gave him then made him feel as if he’d done a whole lot more than simply acknowledged that she had what it took to do this job. It also made him feel downright warm inside, a sensation he didn’t even bother to try and shrug off this time. At this point, he wasn’t sure he cared if he was on a runaway train.
“So Lyle Gardner is suspect number one,” he said after a moment.
“His own brother,” she said, shaking her head.
“He must have found out about the prostitution ring.”
“You think he confronted Franklin about it?”
Colin nodded. “He seems the type who would want to protect the family name.”
“And they fought over it. Maybe he never meant to kill him at all.”
“That would make sense,” Colin agreed. “And it would fit with the fall injury being the cause of death.”
“So the rest, the ice picks and the stolen property, was just a cover-up, to make it look like a burglary.”
“It’s all circumstantial,” Colin warned.
“But it explains what Stephen said, and Cecelia’s protective reaction. It fits.”
“Yeah. It fits.”
“So now what?”
“Nothing, until morning when we can get the photos of the ring. Then we’ll get them over to Maggie Sutter and see if the ring matches those bruises on the body.”
“And if they do?”
“Then we call in the D.A., and Mr. Lyle Gardner goes to jail.”
“I could get used to this,” Darien said with an exaggerated yawn and stretch after she’d finished her last forkful of pasta and sip of wine. “Somebody else cooking is a novelty.”
She got up and strolled over to the sofa, then turned to give him a sideways grin, and added, “Heck, somebody cooking in here is a novelty. I’ve become a takeout queen, much to my mother’s shame.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” he said wryly as he followed her to the living room. “You’ve just had my entire repertoire.”
“Good thing I love spaghetti, then.”
She colored suddenly, looking as if she’d just realized how what she’d said sounded, as if she were planning many more nights like this one.
“Don’t tempt me,” he said softly. He’d been thinking about it a lot himself, and the appeal of an endless string of nights like this was growing rapidly. He could even, if he worked at it, put a kid or two into the picture.
She had the grace not to deny it. “Sorry.” She lowered her gaze. Then, after a moment, she added in a near whisper, “I think.”
It was that little whisper that undid him. “Damn, Darien. That kiss was…almost an accident. This would be with full intent. Do you realize what we could get ourselves into?”
She looked up at him then. “Oh, yes,” she said, her voice husky now.
Heat flashed through him with the speed of an explosion. He’d been keeping himself on a short leash for what felt like an eon now, although it had, amazingly, only been a short time. He took a step toward her, reached out, then froze. When he spoke, his voice was thick and harsh.
“If you want to stop this, you’d better say so now, because once I touch you, there’s no turning back for me.”
“There was no turning back for me once you took that first step,” she whispered.
He groaned, then reached for her again. But instead of pulling her up to him as he’d planned, he found himself sinking down beside her. His mouth sought hers hungrily, and the soft warmth of her lips somehow had more kick than his.357 Magnum. His gut knotted as if he’d taken one of those rounds, and he couldn’t have pulled away had someone drawn that gun on him.
“Colin,” she said breathlessly, “I forgot. I…we…I’m not prepared for this.”
He had to wait a moment for the hot, pleasurable haze to clear enough so that he could think. He mentally inventoried his wallet, remembered one of Sam’s parting gifts-with the accompanying suggestion that he get a life-then said roughly, “I’ll handle it.”
She breathed a sigh of relief that made his body clench.
He traced the line of her jaw with his mouth, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. His fingers tangled in the soft silk of her hair, and he did what he’d been longing to do forever, planted a long, lingering kiss at the nape of her neck bared by the impossibly sexy haircut. When she shivered in reaction, he felt it as if it had begun inside him.
She moved, and only when he felt the sinuous caress of her hips against his aroused body did he realize he’d pulled her beneath him. She moved again, and he nearly gasped. Again, and he forgot to breathe at all.
This train is definitely in trouble, he thought. He’d never been derailed like this. Ever.
It was the last rational thought he had. He didn’t listen to it anyway.
Darien had the fleeting thought that this was insane, that she was long past the age when she should be rapidly heading for a very intimate encounter on the couch in her living room. Yet here she was, half-undressed, and without hesitation helping a man she hadn’t even met a month ago shed his own clothes. A man she’d known from the first instant meant trouble. She’d thought she’d loved Tony, but this…