The short winter day had lowered into dusk. I kicked off my heels and peeled out of my sweater and skirt, replacing them with a Florida uniform-white T-shirt and denim cutoffs.
Too demoralized to eat or drink a thing, too world weary to even snap on the evening news, I flopped on one of the club chairs and stared at the living room wall. As the gloom gathered around me, I gave myself a halfhearted pep talk.
So what if Rossi had treated me like a piece of wood all day? A consummate professional, he had concentrated on his job, and, without question, that was the right thing to do. I was annoyed with myself for letting his clinical attitude bother me. What I needed to do was suck up my disappointment and believe that once the case was solved, he would come after me like gang busters, no holds barred, and love the breath right out of my body. Easier said than done. The day’s trauma and the loneliness I’d been holding at bay for a year overwhelmed me, and I heaved out a sigh that echoed in the quiet room. I might have sat like that for hours, not moving a muscle if the doorbell hadn’t chimed.
Da da da DA.
Whoever it was could damn well go away. I wasn’t in the mood for drop-in company. I wasn’t in the mood for anything.
Da da da DA. Da da da DA.
“Open up. Police.”
Rossi. What did he want?
“Open up! Police.”
I gripped the chair arms. Maybe this wasn’t a social call at all. Maybe Rossi was here on official business. The man was a homicide detective. I had just found a murder victim.
My breath caught in my throat. Only one way to find out what he wanted. Slowly, as if my bones might be mush when put to the test, I got to my feet and dragged out to the foyer.
Da da da DA.
For some reason, he couldn’t wait for me to open up, and I tensed for a moment. Then my Irish flared. I was innocent, for Pete’s sake. Why act like I was approaching the gallows? Straightening my shoulders, I held my head high and flung the door open.
Ready to press the bell again, Rossi’s finger hovered in the air before he lowered his hand to his side. Some part of my mind registered that he looked harassed and irritable, not surprising in light of what he’d had to deal with today, but I was too irritable myself to cut him any slack.
“Why are you here, Lieutenant? It was my impression the interrogation was over,” I said, damned if I’d let him get past the foyer.
He waved his hand forward, impatiently nudging me back into the living room. To put a few inches between us, I retreated a step. That was all the edge he needed. Slamming the door behind him, he shot the bolt and strode past me into the living room.
Hands on hips, I followed him in. “I don’t remember inviting you. I have nothing more to say to the police.”
“Well, I have a few things to say to you.” With a couple of strides, he covered the distance between us, pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me. “It could have been you on that garage floor. The thought’s had me crazy all day. You could have walked in on the killer. Caught him in the act. Then what?”
Too stunned to protest, I nestled against Rossi’s chest, inhaling aftershave and a faint trace of something else. Male pheromones? Whatever it was, I liked it. I liked it a lot and didn’t even try to pull out of his embrace. This was what I’d been wanting him to do for a month. What I’d been longing for. My irritation melted like icicles in April.
“I could have lost you before we ever…”
This was all so unbelievable. A hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. I wanted to hear more. Had to hear more.
“So sorry,” he whispered into my hair.
“For what?”
“For what you found last month. For what you found today. For everything that makes you unhappy.”
I tried loosening his embrace so I could see his face, but as I tensed in his arms, he held me even tighter.
“Let me go, Rossi. I want to look at you.”
He relaxed his arms a bit. I drew back, still in the circle of his embrace, and glanced up at him. This was no joke. He was utterly serious.
“And I’m sorry for something else-for not being here to keep you safe all these weeks.”
“But, the chief-”
He lowered his mouth to mine and, unthinking, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, I opened to him and slipped my tongue between his lips. He growled and seized me so close he sealed us together from thigh to hip to chest, his mouth hardening, pressing, his tongue teasing, his breathing labored and quick, as was mine. Why were we breathless? We hadn’t climbed any mountains, had we? No, not yet. But somewhere in my fevered brain, I knew the Matterhorn loomed ahead.
When we finally parted so we could both inhale, his hands cupped the back of my head, his fingers probing deep into my hair. “I couldn’t wait any longer. Not after today. Not after walking into that fancy kitchen and seeing your face all white and frozen. When your freckles pop out, I know you’re in distress. I hate seeing you like that, Mrs. D.”
I looked up into his face. “Say my name. You never have. I want to hear it from your lips. Say it.”
He smiled into my eyes. “Deva. Devalera.” His smile widened. “Devalera. That’s a hell of a handle, Mrs. D.”
Dammit, he’d wrecked the moment. “I happen to love my name,” I lied, wriggling out of his arms. “You’ve got some nerve, Rossi.”
“Honey, I’ve got more than nerve.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Interested?”
A challenge. “I haven’t decided yet.”
He nodded and raised his hands in the air, palms out. “Okay, play it safe. Swim in the shallow end of the pool. For a long time, I’ve been that way myself. But I think I’m getting ready to change. So let me ask you something. When’s the last time you went to the moon?”
“The moon?”
“Yeah. Since you lost Jack, that is.”
“Three, four times last week. Twice yesterday”
His jaw dropped.
Aha! A hit.
“Yup. I’ve been the town pump, Rossi.”
He waggled a finger at me. A metronome. Left, right. Left, right. “Not a chance. You loved Jack too much to sleep around.”
A surge of emotion flared through me. “My feelings for Jack are none of your damn business.”
Serious again, he looked me straight in the eye. “I know you loved him. There’s no need to erase that, ever. Or to pretend that you don’t want another man in your life. Maybe I’m the guy.” He shrugged. “Maybe not. But think it over.”
“Let me ask you something, Rossi.”
“Shoot.”
“How many times have you been to the moon?”
“You know something, Deva. I used to believe I’d been there a lot, but lately I’m not so sure. I think those trips I took were to minor planets.” He cocked an eyebrow and waited.
I smiled. Who could stay mad at Rossi?
The cell phone in his pocket began an insistent chirping. Always at the wrong time.
He fished the phone out of his pocket and growled into it. He listened for a moment, his fingers tightening on the receiver. “I’ll be right in,” he said. “Leave the report on my desk.” He repocketed the cell. “Duty calls. Have to go.” He gave me a hurried, unsatisfying peck on the cheek and was halfway out the door when he turned back, a wicked gleam in his eye. “One last question, Mrs. D. You ever hear of the Big Bang Theory?”