“Oh, man, the ribs were great.”
Daisy felt a thrill race all the way to her toes. Her skin felt scalded where it pressed against Steve Crow. Too bad it was just an innocent scrunching together, she thought. It had been way too long since she’d felt like this about a man. Actually, it had been never.
“So what’s with the dog?” Steve asked Kevin. “He a friend of yours?”
Kevin’s eyes bulged. “I opened the back door to take out the garbage, and he lunged at me!”
“It’s only Fang,” Daisy said. “He belongs to Emily Atkinson, two doors down. I don’t have a dog so I use him to test my new recipes.
Sometimes when he’s hungry he finds ingenious ways of getting into my backyard-like digging under the privacy fence.”
“I’m telling you, that dog’s a killer!” Kevin said.
Daisy leaned forward a little and looked at Fang. “He’s just a puppy. He hasn’t learned manners yet. He starts obedience school next week.”
Kevin wasn’t convinced. “I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”
“You’re going to have to get used to him,” Daisy said. “He’s the only dog in the whole subdivision. I promised my publisher a sequel to
Steve leaned forward, pretending to look at Fang, but actually finding an excuse not to lose body contact with Daisy. She felt good tucked back against his chest-too good to let go. He looked at Fang and had a stroke of genius. He rested his cheek against Daisy’s blond curls and lied to her. “You could use
His voice was low and raspy, whispering through the loose tendrils that had escaped the comb and curled around her ear, and it took her a moment to realize he hadn’t said something seductive. She turned to face him and was intrigued by the amused curve to his lips-as if he’d done something very clever and was enormously pleased with himself.
“I didn’t know you had a dog,” she said.
“Yup. I’ve got one.”
“What’s his name?”
Steve stared at her for a full minute. “Bob.”
Fang circled the car, snuffled into the window one last time, and left. Everyone watched while he walked down the street and scratched at his door to be let in. Emily Atkinson opened the door and shook her finger at him. A moment later, she dragged him in by his collar.
“Bob would be a
“What kind of dog is he?” Daisy wanted to know.
“Big. He’s a big dog, so he has to eat lots of good food. But he’s gentle. You’d like him. I could bring him over tomorrow after work.”
Daisy really didn’t have time. On the other hand, a finicky dog would make a much better guinea pig than Fang-who-ate-everything. And she would like to see more of Steve Crow. She might even be able to find a way to plaster herself against his incredible body for a few minutes. Not that she wanted anything to come of it, but another innocent scrunching wouldn’t be too terrible. “Okay,” she said, “I have a recipe for stir-fry I could try out on him.”
“You make the dog food, and I’ll bring the people food,” Steve said.
“All right!” Kevin gave Steve a high five and got out of the car. “See you around.”
“See you around.”
By the time Daisy slid over the gearshift Steve was waiting to help her out of the car.
“It’s nice of you to offer,” she said, “but it isn’t necessary for you to bring dinner tomorrow.”
“It’s the least I can do. After all, you’re going to be slaving away over a great meal for old Fred.”
“I thought his name was Bob.”
“Yeah. That’s what I meant. Bob.”
He was a little forgetful. She thought that was endearing. “Well, good night.”
“Good night.”
Neither of them moved.
The devil in Steve’s head whispered, “Hell, go for it!”
“One more thing,” he said to Daisy, taking her by the shoulders. He pulled her forward into the circle of his arms and kissed her. It wasn’t a getting-to-know-you kiss. It wasn’t at all polite. It was pure passion, deep and hard, right from the beginning. He felt her respond, felt the tip of her tongue against his, and he crushed her closer, leaving no doubt about his future intentions.
When he finally released her and stepped back she noticed that his satisfied smile was back in place. “Good night,” he said pleasantly. Then he turned on his heel and left.
“G’night,” Daisy said. Wow.
Chapter 3
Daisy pulled into the Belle Haven Marina lot, parked the newscar facing the river, and blew out a long sigh of relief. She’d managed to drive the entire loop without having an accident. She’d even given traffic reports.
Now she slouched against the door, angled her legs across the floor, and closed her eyes, trying to remember the last time she’d been this tense. This morning, on the way to work, she decided. She’d been tense when her car had stalled at the fast-food drive-through and fifteen angry motorists, hungry for their morning coffee and muffins, had piled up behind her. She should have had breakfast at home, but Kevin had eaten all twelve of the pancakes she’d prepared. She made a mental note to stop at the store on the way home from work. She’d also been tense at two in the morning when she woke up in a cold sweat thinking about another evening with Steve Crow, realizing he was coming to visit, and remembering the house was a wreck. The shower-stall door needed the grunge scrubbed away and the living room rug was due for a vacuuming. There were cobwebs on the dining room chandelier, fingerprints on the kitchen cabinets, and if he looked in her oven, she’d die.
So she’d gotten up and cleaned her bathroom, dusted the chandelier, scoured the cabinets, and said the heck with the oven. As far as she was concerned any man who looked in a woman’s oven wasn’t worth snake spit anyway.
Exhausted, she dozed off with her forehead resting on the wheel. She’d slept for only a few minutes when she woke with a start. The car phone was ringing.
“Good morning,” Steve said. “Just calling to see if everything is okay.”
“Yup. Everything is fine.” Not counting the heart arrhythmia she got when she thought about the way he’d kissed her.
“I also wanted to make sure our dinner date was still on for tonight.”
“Of course,” Daisy said. “I’m looking forward to meeting Bob.”
“Uh, right. If you run into any problems on the job, be sure to call me.”
“Thanks, but things are nice and quiet.”
She gave her last report at three-fifty-five while she was en route to the radio station. As she was heading north on the George Washington Parkway back to the station, a D.C. police call for backup came over a scanner. The officer was shouting into his two-way, giving his location. Gunfire rattled in the background. It sounded as if there was a firefight going on in the southwest section of the city in an area well-known for drugs and violence. There was a request for an ambulance. One of the officers on the scene had been shot. More gunfire.
It seemed to Daisy that this was the sort of news a radio station should know about, so she called WZZZ’s editor and told him about the incident, concluding, “I can hear the gunshots coming over the scanner.”
“Where are you?”
“Coming up to the EighteenthStreetBridge.”
“Take the bridge, babe. Go for it.”
“Go for it? What do you mean ‘go for it’?” Daisy asked.
“Go mobile. That’s what you’ve got the tape recorder for. You’ve got the tape recorder, haven’t you?”
