“You were homeless once too,” she said to the dog as she scratched him behind his ears. “Remember? Well, she was in a stinky old alley, which makes the pound you were in look like the Ritz Carlton. So be nice. Oreo is part of the family now.”
Doug held his breath, certain that the dog was going to gobble the cat in one big bite. However, as Olivia stroked the kitten’s head, the dog sniffed it and began to lick it and clean it as if it were a puppy.
“Oreo, huh?” Doug raised his eyebrows. “That’s a ballsy move, naming it after a cookie and then putting it in front of that big brute.”
“Van is probably more of a pussycat than the pussycat.” Olivia sat in the leather chair behind her desk and folded her hands in her lap, as if she were the one interviewing him, keeping one eye on the unusual duo. “Looks can be deceiving.”
“A concept I’m familiar with,” Doug said evenly.
“Sorry.” She straightened her jacket and brushed cat hair off it. When her eyes locked with his, he noticed her body visibly tense. “I guess I’m a sucker for strays and hard-luck cases. I seem to have a talent for rescuing the needy. Now, what did you want to ask me, detective?”
Doug cocked his head, moved closer to the desk, and didn’t take his eyes off hers. He studied her carefully and could tell that he had her on edge, but what he didn’t know was if it was because of the case, the stray cat, or him.
“We had another murder victim turn up.” He watched for her reaction, but her face remained calm. “She had the stamp from your club on her hand, just like Ronald Davis.”
Doug pulled the picture from his notebook and held it out to Olivia. Olivia tried to maintain that serene facade, but he didn’t miss the tiniest widening of her eyes when skin met skin. She cleared her throat, tore her gaze from his, and turned her attention to the photo.
“She’s dead?” Olivia asked tightly as she looked at the girl’s graduation portrait. They pulled it from her high school website because Doug was not a fan of bringing morgue photos on civilian interviews. The smiling face full of hope was a far cry from what he had seen earlier today. She turned her stormy eyes back to his. “You think that whoever killed Ronald also killed this girl, don’t you?”
“Yes, at least that’s what we suspect. Both spent some portion of their last night alive here.” He took the picture back and noted she was careful not to let their hands touch again. “You recognize her, don’t you?”
Olivia nodded. “She was here with Michael Moriarty and his little gang of thugs. He said something to upset her, and she ran out in a huff.”
“Did he follow her?”
“Hardly.” Olivia let out a short laugh. “I doubt if he even knew her name. The guy has always got one girl or another hanging on his arm.” She lifted one shoulder. “No accounting for taste, I suppose.”
“Where did they find her?”
“Not far from here.” He put the picture away quickly and noticed the subtle change in her demeanor. “Washington Square Park.”
He could tell she was unnerved by seeing the picture of Brittany, though he resisted the sudden and ridiculous urge to scoop her up in his arms and comfort her. Doug cleared his throat and straightened his back, wrestling to hang onto his waning professionalism.
“We need to speak with your staff, and I need to show her picture around the club. I realize you may not be happy about that, but—”
“Not a problem,” Olivia said with a curt nod. “You’ll have our full cooperation, of course.” She cast a loving look at Van and the kitten, curled around each other and sleeping contentedly. “Too bad someone wasn’t around to rescue Brittany,” she said, her voice edged with sadness and a twinge of anger.
“We’re going to find whoever did this.”
“I can promise you one thing, detective,” Olivia said as she turned her eyes to his. “If someone in my club was responsible, I will do everything within my power to assist you.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said as he put the notebook away and looked casually around the small office.
He noted the lack of personal photographs. The only pictures she had were of her dog and one large print of a sunrise over the mountains. Clearly not married and no boyfriend. Good. The very idea of it made him want to kick some serious ass. It wasn’t dignified to feel jealous over a woman he just met, but that didn’t make it any less true.
He turned to go, his hand lingering on the doorknob but not turning it. Mustering up his courage, he finally asked the question he had been dying to ask all night.
“So,” he asked without turning around. “Is there any chance of you taking me up on my offer?”
He dropped his hand from the knob, silence stretching between them as if condemning him. Doug swore under his breath, turned around intending to offer an apology, and found Olivia standing inches from him. He hadn’t heard the chair move or squeak, giving away her movements, yet here she was, just a breath away.
“What did you say?” Her brow furrowed, and she looked at him with wonder.
She was tall, and in those towering heels, only a few inches shorter than he was. Her skin was exquisite, void of a single line or freckle, which gave the impression of someone quite young, but based on her records, she was in her early thirties and had owned this place for the past ten years. Truthfully, she had the air of an older person, and that made her a walking contradiction.
“Dinner, remember?” he asked in a barely audible tone. His lips lifted as his eyes met hers. “Mexican. Chinese. Burgers. Hell, anything you want.”
“I remember, detective… I wasn’t sure if you would.”
“There are some offers a man just can’t forget, Olivia.” His eyes drifted over the soft angles of her face, and he hardened with need. “You are inescapable, and I can’t help myself when I’m around you. At the very least, I want to get to know you better, and I’d like to do it outside of these unpleasant events.”
“I—I really didn’t think you’d remember,” she whispered.
Her sparkling green eyes stayed locked on his, and her body wavered dangerously close, as if begging to be touched. He should have stepped back and allowed her to pass, or she should have asked him to move, but neither happened.
Instead they stood there, hovering over a dangerous place. Doug swallowed hard as blood rushed from his brain directly to his cock. His mouth watered as the scent of cinnamon filled his head and danced over his tongue.
“It would take me an eternity to forget you,” he said in reverent tones.
Her eyes widened, and her lips parted, as if in invitation, which was all the encouragement Doug needed. In a split second his mouth was on hers, and his fingers tangled in those long, red curls as they had so many times in his dreams. His head fogged with desire as her sweet tongue tangled with his, and reason left him, but there was one thing he was sure of—that kiss in the alley had been real.
He would never forget the taste of her.
Her arms slid around his neck as he backed her against the wall and pinned her there. He delved deeply into the cavern of her mouth and groaned as she kissed him back with equal fervor. She wrapped one long leg around his, pressing herself harder against his growing erection. Her small breasts crushed against his chest, and he braced both hands on the wall on either side of her, not trusting himself, afraid he might rip her clothes off and bury himself deep.
Nothing made sense. None of it. But he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting more and getting closer. She licked and nibbled at his lips as she grabbed his hair and kissed him back aggressively—which was a major turn-on. He loved a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go for it.