Alibi In High Heels

out a sigh, sinking into his. His hand slid down my side, resting possessively at my waist as he leaned in, pressing his hips closer.

For a half second, the rest of the world disappeared as I went warm in all the right places. All the twisted thoughts running circles through my mind the past twenty-four hours melted away. All I cared about right now were his lips, surprisingly soft, capturing mine, his hands, warm and oddly tender, holding me. The fact that despite his annoying habit of pasting my head on Pamela Anderson's body, I just might be able to forgive a guy that was this good a kisser.

A damned good kisser.

Then somewhere through the fog of hormones shrouding me, a tiny voice in the back of my head piped up. What the hell are you doing, girl? This was a potential murderer. A creep. A tabloid reporter. Felix!

I twisted away, breaking the kiss and sucking in large gulps of air.

'What was that?' I asked Felix.

Only it wasn't Felix's voice that answered.

'My question exactly.'

I looked past Felix.

And froze.

Filling the doorway, a death look on his granite features, stood Ramirez.

Chapter Eleven

My life flashed before my eyes as I looked from Felix, his lips still wet and swollen looking, to Ramirez, his eyes flashing fire, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

'I… we…' I stuttered, taking one giant step away from Felix.

Ramirez did a low growl and I suddenly feared another murder might take place soon. Very soon.

'It's not what it looks like,' I blurted out. 'I didn't even kiss him back!' Much.

Ramirez looked from me to Felix, his unreadable cop face slipping into place.

'Jack?' I said feebly.

But it was too late. I could see all emotion draining from his eyes, being replaced with that dead Cop Face look I'd come to know and dread. Then, before I could stop him, he turned around and stalked out the door.

'Shit.' I hobbled after him, my crutches slipping on the over-polished floor. I fumbled with them, then ditched them altogether as I turned the corner, throwing them clattering to the floor in the hallway. 'Wait,' I called desperately, half hoping half running after him. 'Please, Jack, wait,' I begged. I was rushing after him so quickly I plunged right into him when he stopped abruptly and turned around.

'Uhn.'

He immediately pushed me away, as if suddenly my touch repulsed him. Tears instantly stung my eyes.

'Please, Jack,' I pleaded, sure I was two seconds away from a total girly cry-fest melt down if he didn't at least look at me.

'What.' He didn't phrase it as a question. And he didn't meet my eyes.

'Look, I am so, so sorry. You weren't supposed to walk in on that.'

'Obviously.'

'No, wait, I didn't mean it like that. I meant that I didn't expect you. You weren't suppose to be here. What are you doing here?'

'I was worried about you, Maddie. I made your mother tell me where you were. I thought you were in trouble.' He spit the words out, his voice rough and void of all emotion. He looked past my head down the hallway. 'Apparently you were getting along just fine.'

'No, I'm not. I mean, I am, but it's not what it looks like.'

'Oh, so you weren't kissing him?'

'Well, yes, but he kissed me this time!'

Ramirez raised one eyebrow, that vein in his neck pulsing like a Latin conga dancer. 'This time?'

Oh. Shit.

I bit my lip. 'Uh, yeah. I mean, last time was totally an accident. He turned his head.'

Ramirez held up his hands. 'You know what? I don't even want to hear it. It doesn't matter.'

A lead weight dropped into my belly. 'It doesn't?'

'No.' And from the flat, dead tone in his voice I had a sinking feeling it really didn't. I had a feeling, as he turned and walked purposefully down the hall, his footsteps echoing, that nothing I did was going to matter to Ramirez anymore. That I could beg, plead, promise six ways till Sunday that I hadn't meant to kiss Felix, that no matter how much I promised I had no idea how what had started out as interrogation had ended with his lips locked on mine, Ramirez wasn't going to forgive me. This was it. The end.

And all because of Felix.

I didn't go back in the room. I couldn't face Felix again. Instead, I scooped my crutches up and prayed he didn't come after me as I quickly hobbled to the front door and out to my mini car, shoving Wonder boot in through a thin veils of tears.

He didn't.

And as I put the car in gear and pulled away from Felix's castle, I prayed I never saw him again. Ramirez was right. Felix brought nothing but trouble into my life. Kidnapping, gunshots, arrest, it was all Felix's fault. Hell, he probably had offed Gisella just to screw up my chance at being a designer.

And now he'd screwed my chances with Ramirez too.

The tears felled in big fat drops down my cheeks as I sped way too fast through the village and back to the M1. As if to match my mood, the fog thickened into menacing rain clouds, a down pour to match my own sobs hitting the tinny roof of the little car, drowning out my hiccupping and keeping me company all the way back to London.

By the time I returned the rental and hobbled back to the Queen's Cozy I was drenched, shivering, and didn't have a tear left in me. I staggered through the door, stripping off my wet clothes, and took a long, almost warm shower. After which I wrapped myself in a towel and collapsed onto the bed.

I stared at the picture of the Queen.

'Your cousin's an asshole,' I told her. She didn't respond. I closed my eyes, and contemplated calling Ramirez. But I didn't even know what I'd say. I'd already apologized. Sorry just didn't seem adequate. And, quite frankly, I didn't even know if he'd pick up. He needed some space, right? Just some time. To either forgive me or… well, I didn't even want to think about the 'or'. The 'or' made tears I didn't know I had left well up behind my eyes again.

My love life was seriously in the toilet, my career was virtually over, and I was one DNA test away from being locked up in a Paris prison. I was pretty sure my life could not get any worse.

At the moment, there was nothing I could do about my love life, and unless a miracle occurred and Moreau gave back my shoes, the career things was pretty dismal as well. But, I could at least try to keep my butt out of jail.

I rolled over and grabbed a pad of hotel stationary and a pen from my purse.

As much as I absolutely loathed Felix right now, I had to admit that I still wasn't convinced he'd killed Gisella. Not really. Lying, yes. Cheating, yes. Printing vulgar pictures by the truckload, of course. But stabbing her with a stiletto seemed a stretch.

So if it wasn't me and it wasn't Felix, who did that leave?

I clicked open my pen and wrote 'Suspects' at the top of the page. Only I wasn't sure what to write next. Assuming Gisella was actually stealing jewelry from the shows, obviously her accomplice was my first choice for her killer. Maybe he or she had wanted a larger portion of the proceeds. Maybe they thought Gisella was getting sloppy and they'd be found out. Maybe they just plain didn't like her.