and lost their soft necks and unlined faces? Did they lose the joy of play, of knowing what it was like to romp barefoot on damp grass simply because it felt good? Did they hold onto their innocence or had events invaded their lives to make them wary and vigilant? Did they, a hundred years before Sting wrote it, build a fortress around their hearts?
Did they have sport sex with ex-Navy Seals just to get their heart rates up?
Or with celebrity journalists who hung with Mick and Bono?
Not to compare—oh, why not?—the difference with Rook was that he got her heart rate up first and that’s what made her want him. From that initial blood rush her pulse had only beat faster.
What was it that made sex with Jameson Rook so incredible?
Hm, she thought, he was passionate, for sure. Exciting and surprising, uh huh. And tender, too, at the right times, but not too soon—and not too much, thank God. But the big difference with Rook was that he was playful.
And he made her playful.
Rook gave her permission to laugh. Being with him was fun. Sleeping with him was anything but solemn and earnest. His playfulness brought joy into her bed. I still have my armor, she thought, but tonight, anyway, Rook got in. And brought me with him.
Nikki Heat had discovered she could be playful, too. In fact, she rolled toward him and slid down the bed to prove it.
Her cell phone startled them awake. She sat up, orienting herself in the blinding sunlight.
Rook lifted his head off the pillow. “What’s that, a wake-up call?”
“You had your wake-up call, mister.”
He dropped back on the pillow with his eyes closed, smiling at the memory. “And I answered.”
She pressed the cell to her ear. “Heat.”
“Hi, Nikki, did I wake you?” It was Lauren.
“No, I’m up.” She fumbled for her watch on the nightstand. 7:03. Nikki worked to clear her head. When your friend from the medical examiner’s office calls at that hour, it’s generally not social.
“I waited until after seven.”
“Lauren, really, it’s fine. I’m already dressed and I’ve had my exercise,” Nikki said, looking at her naked reflection in the mirror. Rook lifted himself up and his smiling face appeared in the mirror with her.
“Well, that’s half-true,” he said in a hushed voice.
“Oh…Sounds like you have company. Nikki Heat, do you have company?”
“No, that was the TV. Those ads come on so loud.” She turned to Rook and put a finger to her lips.
“You have man company.”
Nikki pressed for a change of subject. “What’s going on, Laur?”
“I’m working a crime scene. Let me give you the address.”
“Hang on, I need something to write with.” Nikki crossed to the dresser and grabbed a pen. She couldn’t find a pad or paper, so she flipped over her copy of
“I’m at the impound lot near the Javits.”
“I know the impound. That’s West, what, 38th?”
“Yes, at 12th,” said Lauren. “A tow driver found a body in a car he was hauling. First Precinct’s got jurisdiction, but I thought I’d give you a call because you’re definitely going to want to come by for this. I found something that might relate to your Matthew Starr case.”
“What? Tell me.”
Nikki could hear voices in the background. The mouthpiece rustled as Lauren covered it and spoke to someone, then she came back on. “Detectives from the First just got here all hot to trot, so I’ve got to go. See you when you get here.”
Nikki hung up and turned to see Rook was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you ashamed of me, Detective Heat?” He said it with a theatrical air. Nikki could hear a bit of the Grand Damn in his posh accent. “You bed me, but you hide me from your high-class friends. I feel so…cheap.”
“ ‘Comes with the territory.’ ”
Rook thought a moment and said, “You could have told her I was here for security.”
“You?”
“Well…I did cover you.” He took her hand and pulled her closer, so that she stood between his knees.
“I’ve got an appointment with a corpse.”
He looped his legs behind hers and rested his hands on her hips. “Last night was great, don’t you think?”
“It was. And you know what else last night was? Last night.” And she strode to her closet to get dressed for work.
Rook did the cab fishing on Park Avenue South and hooked a northbound whopper, a minivan-cab. He held the door for Nikki, who got in with one last glance over her shoulder, harboring the concern that Captain Montrose had left a blue-and-white on her and she’d be spotted on her morning after with Jameson Rook. “Looking for Pochenko?” asked Rook.
“Not really. Old habit.”
She gave the cabbie Rook’s address in Tribeca.
“What’s going on?” he said. “Aren’t we going to the impound lot?”
“One of us is going to the impound lot. The other is going to go home and change his clothes.”
“Thanks, but if you can stand me, I’ll wear this again today. I’d rather hang with you. Although, checking out a body isn’t exactly our best denouement. After a night like that, the New York thing would be to take you to brunch. And pretend to write down your phone number.”
“No, you’re going to go change. I can’t think of a worse idea than for the two of us to show up in the same cab at my friend’s crime scene first thing in the morning with bed hair and one of us in yesterday’s clothes.”
“We could show up wearing each other’s clothes, that would be worse.” He laughed and took her hand. She withdrew hers.
“Have you noticed I don’t do a lot of hand holding on the job? Slows down my fast draw.”
They rode in silence for a while. As the cab cut across Houston Street, he said, “I’m trying to figure out…did I bite my own tongue when you kicked me in the face, or did you do it?” That earned a fast check from the driver in the rearview mirror.
Heat said, “I want to lean on Forensics to cough up that report on Pochenko’s blue jeans.”
“I can’t recall getting bitten either time,” said Rook.
“Blackout probably set the lab behind schedule, but it’s been long enough.”
“Things were happening fast and, dare I say, furious.”
“I’m betting those fibers match,” she said.
“But still, you’d think I’d remember a bite.”
“Surveillance video be damned, somehow he got in there, I’d bet on it. I know he likes his fire escapes.”
“Am I talking too much?” Rook asked.
“Yes.”
Two blessedly chatter-free minutes later, Rook was out of the cab, standing in front of his building.
“When you’re done, go to the precinct and wait for me. I’ll meet you there after I finish at the impound.” He sulked like a rejected puppy and started to close the door. She held it open and said, “By the way? Yes. I did bite your tongue.” Then she slid the door closed. Nikki watched him grinning on the sidewalk through the back window as her cab drove on.
Detective Heat badged herself through the gate of the city impound, and after she signed in, the guard stepped out of his tiny office into the hot sun to point out the medical examiner van on the far end of the lot. Nikki turned to thank him but he was already inside filling his shirtsleeves with air from the window AC.
The sun was still low in the sky, just clearing the top of the Javits Convention Center, and Heat could feel its
