commendations, and Connor knew firsthand what a good cop the man was. They’d been rookies together, then partners. Their friendship had grown until they were as close as brothers. Later they had chosen different paths in the department, Cruz gravitating toward undercover work and Connor working his way up the officer ranks. But when Cruz had returned to plainclothes duty a couple of years ago, they had ended up in the same district. Whenever Connor was given a particularly sticky case to supervise, he always requested that Cruz be part of the investigation. He was among the few men on earth whom Connor trusted implicitly.
Cruz interrupted his thoughts. “Yeah, he started on that bullshit, talked about my record, but I still wonder…” He shook his head. “Heck, you know me, I guess I just can’t stand to have investigations yanked when I’m just getting into them. Plus,” he added morosely, “he assigned me a partner.”
Connor smiled in commiseration. “Bad luck, friend. I know you like to work solo.” He picked up Michele’s hand, threading their fingers together. Turning to her, he said in an aside, “I’m sure his new partner won’t be as handsome as his first one.”
Cruz slouched deeper into his chair. “Has your ugly mug beat hands down,” he contradicted mildly. “And he’s a she.”
“Your new partner is a woman?” Michele asked interestedly.
“Ritter obviously doesn’t know as much about you as he claims to,” Connor gibed, “or he would have heard that no female is safe from you.”
“Can I help it if I’m friendly?” His two friends laughed. The phone rang then, and Michele went to the kitchen to answer it.
“Who is she?” Connor asked. “Maybe I know her.”
“I doubt it. Beautiful redheads were never your type. Her name is Madeline Casey.”
“Casey?” Connor thought a moment then shook his head. “Haven’t heard of her. How experienced a detective is she?”
Cruz shrugged. “That’s just it, I don’t know. She’s transferring in, and I’m stuck with her, unless Ritter changes his mind.”
“Ritter?” Connor echoed. “Change his mind?” He shook his head. “Give up that hope. Sounds like you and Casey are joined at the hip, at least for the time being.”
Michele rejoined them and said to Connor, “That was your mother. She wants us to come to dinner on Sunday. Your sister is going to be home.”
“Sherry?” His interest was captured. “We haven’t seen her since our wedding.”
As his friends’ conversation turned for a moment to family, Cruz tuned out. Joined at the hip. That wouldn’t have been his choice of words, though it brought something anatomically close to mind. Madeline Casey was too head-turning to escape attention. Amid the male atmosphere of the basketball game, her cool, composed beauty had stood out in vivid contrast. She had presented a dispassionate pose throughout the day, but when he’d looked closer he’d been able to see hints of the woman beneath. Though her face had remained impassive throughout the meeting with Ritter, there had been a slight twist to her mouth when the man had mentioned Cruz’s record with the department. Of course, he acknowledged silently, he wouldn’t have noticed that small hint of emotion if his attention hadn’t strayed, again and again, to those shapely lips.
He stared unseeingly at the empty beer bottle in his hand. He wouldn’t be happy about having any partner assigned to him, but the fact that this one was a woman didn’t have anything to do with his bias. He didn’t doubt his ability to concentrate on the case at hand, regardless of whom he worked with. He’d been accused in the past of having a one-track mind, and that was probably true, when it came to his work. Every case was like a jigsaw puzzle with just a jumble of pieces at the beginning, each clue, each piece of information to be joined to reconstruct the whole picture. His analytical mind enjoyed the challenge, his determination was the drive that solved most of his investigations. He’d also been at it long enough that he trusted his own instincts, and didn’t relish having to explain them to a partner. He hadn’t worked with one for any length of time since Connor.
His mouth kicked up at one corner. But if he was going to be saddled with one, he thought wickedly, it sure didn’t hurt that she was so easy on the eyes.
His gaze shifted to the couple on the couch across from him. When their heads moved closer together, Cruz felt an uncustomary stab of envy. He was damn happy for Connor’s good fortune in meeting Michele. It was a miracle that the other man had finally found a woman he trusted. And the way they’d met had seemed predestined. Michele worked as a child psychologist, but it wasn’t in her professional capacity that she had come to district headquarters to speak to Connor a year ago. They’d been investigating a rash of kidnappings in the area and Michele had information to give them, information revealed to her through her clairvoyant senses. Connor had fought believing her, and in her psychic dreams. But in the end it was Michele who had helped solve the case and save Connor’s life.
He didn’t begrudge his friend his wife, and Connor damn sure deserved some happiness. Cruz didn’t suffer from loneliness often. But occasionally with Connor and Michele, or watching his own parents who’d been married almost forty years, he experienced an indefinable yearning for… something. Something more.
He shook off the unfamiliar melancholy impatiently. His life was perfect just the way it was. He knew a lot of people, and his leisure time was as social as he wanted it. He’d never met a woman yet who couldn’t be forgotten easily when he became involved in a case. Most of the females of his acquaintance didn’t seem to mind waiting around until he had time for them again. And those who did mind weren’t missed.
Connor spoke then, interrupting his thoughts. “C’mon, Cruz, settle our argument. Michele still thinks of those little family discussions we get into at my parents as fights. Explain to her the dynamics of sibling conversation.”
“You’ll never understand,” Cruz told Michele patiently, “being an only child yourself. But there’s no such thing as arguing among brothers and sisters. It’s all the art of negotiation and compromise, and merely improves our communication abilities.” His eyes twinkled. “Surely you’ve read that in those child psychology texts of yours.”
“What I have read,” Michele replied dryly, “tells me that you two are full of it. You both just enjoy getting things stirred up and then sitting back to watch the fireworks.”
The men laughed. “I think she’s got your number,” Cruz told Connor, “although she’s completely wrong about me.”
“Yeah, right,” Connor retorted good-naturedly. “Can I get you another beer?”
Cruz shook his head and rose. “I think I’ll be heading home. I’ve got a new partner to break in tomorrow, remember?” He said goodbye to Michele and then Connor walked out to the porch with him.
“Don’t get too chummy with Madeline Casey,” his friend advised him. “Sounds like this could turn into a high- profile case. You don’t need any distractions.”
“Your concern is touching, but I can take care of myself,” Cruz responded. “Especially,” he added in a drawl, “where women are concerned.”
“Do not,” stressed Connor, staring hard at him, “start thinking of her as a woman. That would be your first mistake”
“Sorry, buddy.” Cruz slapped him on the shoulder and headed for the car. “But it would be impossible to think of her as anything else.”
Chapter 2
Madeline hurriedly scraped her long wet tresses back from her face with a wide-tooth comb. She winced as she hit a snarl, and rapidly braided the mass, pinning it up off her neck. She walked quickly out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, checking the clock to see if she had time for coffee. She grimaced when she saw the hour. A phone call from her father had upset her daily routine, and now she had just barely enough time to get to work. She didn’t like to hurry, not in anything. And she detested being late. She picked up the blazer that matched her navy slacks and slipped it on over her white blouse. Scooping up her purse, she found her keys and headed out the door.
As she drove toward the Southwest District headquarters she reflected upon that phone call. Her father had called to summon her-there was no other word for it, she thought darkly-to his home for dinner. She looked forward to their monthly dinners with the same anticipation she reserved for root canals, and had valiantly attempted to come up with a legitimate excuse to cry off, to no avail. People didn’t say no to city councilman Geoffrey Casey
