was standing behind her, a resigned look on her face.
Under her nosy friend’s eagle eye, Madeline grew acutely uncomfortable. She reached up to push back her tousled hair, which had received only a quick brushing this morning, and that before Cruz had threaded his fingers through it when he’d kissed her. She tried for, and failed to bring off, a nonchalant expression.
“Madeline Katherine Casey.” Ariel pronounced each syllable deliberately. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you hadn’t been home at all last night.”
“I did work late,” Madeline tried lamely. She walked past her friend to switch on the coffeemaker. Suddenly she felt in dire need of fortification.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Ariel said suggestively. “You must have worked re-e-e-al late. Like all night. Like the kind of overtime one doesn’t punch a clock for. The kind that has, shall we say, its own rewards.” She threw back her head and laughed delightedly. “Dare I hope that you were
Madeline couldn’t prevent a laugh at her friend’s outrageousness. “You’re incorrigible. And snoopy. You don’t see me running over to your apartment and prying into your life all the time, do you?”
Ariel slipped onto a stool at the counter. “Nope. ‘Cause you know there’s nothing there to pry into. And believe me, friend, if I had a guy in my life who was one-tenth the man Cruz is, you wouldn’t need to snoop. I’d be over here gloating, providing you with an instant replay.”
The coffee was ready, and Madeline used some much-needed moments to busy herself pouring a mug for each of them. When she handed one to her friend, she slipped onto a stool next to her. “Well, don’t expect me to do the same. I’m afraid my nature has always been a bit more modest than yours.”
“Then it’s true!” Ariel crowed. Madeline winced and sipped at her coffee. “You and Cruz are an item. Glory hallelujah! I have to admit, dear, that I worried you’d never let go enough to get involved with any man again, not to mention one as delicious as your Cruz. May I congratulate you on your impeccable taste, at least?”
Madeline suppressed a smile. “You may,” she agreed primly, and then ruined it by joining in her friend’s laughter.
“I knew it,” Ariel remarked in a satisfied voice. “The first time I saw him I thought, now there’s a man who could thaw Madeline out and show her how great being a woman can feel.” She reached over and patted her friend’s hand. “I’m happy for you. He must be some kind of guy to breach all your defenses.”
“He’s… persistent,” Madeline conceded.
“Good for him. He’d have to be. But he must have other qualities to have put that color in your cheeks. C’mon, Madeline. Isn’t there anything else you’d like to tell Auntie Ariel?”
Madeline drank the rest of her coffee and rose. “Nope. And I really have to get ready for work.” She got up, and for once Ariel took the hint and rose also.
“All right, all right, I’m going,” she said mildly, allowing Madeline to herd her to the door. “Don’t push, I’ll go peacefully.” She turned after she’d opened the door, and tossed a parting remark over her shoulder. “Do him a favor and wear something that will knock his socks off. Although I’m sure you’ve already more than accomplished
“You have such a dirty mind,” Madeline scolded, shutting the door on her friend. She could hear Ariel’s departing laughter. Madeline threw a quick look at the clock. She stripped on the way to the bathroom, and a minute later stepped into the shower with an appreciative sigh. She stood under the cascading water with eyes closed, enjoying the sensation. It was hard to perform the mundane task without images of the last shower she’d taken, the one with Cruz, crowding into her mind. Cheeks growing warm again, she hurriedly finished, and dried herself off briskly.
Standing in front of her closet clad only in her underthings, she perused its contents disapprovingly. Cruz was right; she did own an inordinate number of tailored slacks and jackets. And none of them suited her current mood. She finally decided on black pleated slacks and a black-and-white short-sleeved sweater. When it came time to do her hair, she left it loose for once. She surveyed her reflection in the mirror with satisfaction. It was a little more flattering than the no-nonsense attire she usually favored to work in, and it was still functional. She realized she had actually followed Ariel’s advice, and she winced. That was definitely a habit she didn’t want to start.
She reentered the dining area just as the doorbell rang. She gave a sigh of exasperation as she went to answer it. Fully expecting it to be Ariel, she opened the door, saying, “You know, I really don’t need your help. I can dress my-” Her voice stopped short when she saw her father standing before her.
“Madeline,” he greeted her urbanely. “May I come in?”
She stepped back from the door mutely. If it had been possible, she thought numbly, to pick the one person she would least wish to see at this moment, it would have been Geoffrey Casey. She closed the door and turned to watch him. He was surveying her tiny apartment with what she knew would be disapproval. He’d been here only twice before, and had made no pains to hide his feelings about her home.
“I don’t know why you insist on living in this dark, cramped place when you know I’d buy you a house anywhere you’d like. A condominium, even. One in a much better neighborhood.”
She sighed. She did not need this. Not this morning, of all mornings. She could feel her earlier contentment fade away. But oddly enough, she also felt more capable than usual of dealing with her father without losing her temper. There was something to be said for having everything you never allowed yourself to hope for come true. It did remarkable things for one’s control.
“This place suits my needs,” she responded evenly, as she had every other time he’d brought it up. He knew very well that she’d never allow him to buy her any such thing. She hadn’t touched the trust fund that she’d gained control over on her twenty-fourth birthday. Although she might want to use it someday, right now her needs were simple. Too simple, according to her father.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked politely, forestalling any further discussion of her living arrangements.
“No, thank you,” he replied, walking into the living room and sitting on a chair. “I had some before I left the house this morning, and, of course, Mrs. Parks knows just how I take it.”
Madeline’s mouth twisted. After working for Casey for twenty-odd years, Mrs. Parks would know how to make the coffee, or she wouldn’t have lasted so long. Geoffrey Casey didn’t keep anyone around who couldn’t be of use to him in some way.
She sank into a chair facing him. “What can I do for you, Father?” she inquired. This early-morning visit was really quite out of character for him.
He brushed at a speck of lint on his perfectly creased Italian suit, and crossed his legs. “I decided that the only way to see you was to drop in unannounced,” he stated plainly. “As ill-bred as it is, I had no choice. You haven’t returned any of my phone calls.”
Guilt prickled through her at the truth of his words. She’d been avoiding him, and she couldn’t deny it. Although she’d done so to avoid any more stressful scenes, his words made her feel about twelve years old. The old inner war still waged within her; the instincts for self-preservation against the loyalty she felt she should owe to her own flesh and blood.
“The case has been taking up a lot of my time,” she said, damning the note of apology that entered her voice. “Things have been a little crazy. When the case winds down-”
“Ah, yes, the case. Why don’t we talk about that? And about Cruz Martinez.”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize what had brought her father to her apartment. Her eyes narrowed. “You know I can’t discuss my investigations with you. We’ve had this conversation before.”
He went on as if he hadn’t heard. “Francis Vincent told me he ran into you and Martinez at a restaurant one night.”
“Yes. So tell me, Madeline. What sort of investigating was going on after-hours over dinner?”
Though the words were delivered in his usual cultured voice, the suggestion in them was blatantly insulting.
“We were eating,” she said bluntly. “Does that need an explanation?”
“I know how you feel about my becoming involved in your work,” he said, surprising her. “But given our last conversation, I was quite concerned at your apparent friendliness with a suspected criminal. I hope you know what you’re doing.” His tone said clearly that he doubted that very much, and Madeline ground her teeth silently.
