relationships than she cared to remember, and believed most problems between men and women could be solved with a pair of licorice panties.
'How's that skin toner I made for you working out?' Gabrielle directed the question toward her friend, who sat in a wicker chair beneath the porch awning.
'Better than the oatmeal mask or PMS oil.'
Gabrielle skimmed her fingers across the top of the water, disturbing the rose petals and wildflowers. She wondered if her treatments or Francis's impatience were at fault. Francis was always looking for the quick fix. The easiest answer, never bothering to search her own soul and find inner peace and happiness within. As a result, her life was always in crisis. She was a magnet for loser men and had more issues than a magazine rack. Francis also had qualities Gabrielle admired. She was funny and bright, went after what she wanted, and had a pure heart.
'I haven't talked to you for awhile. Not since last week when you thought some big guy with dark hair was following you.'
For the first time in over an hour; Gabrielle thought of Detective Joe Shanahan. She thought of his intrusion in her life and the bad karma she'd accumulated thanks to him. He was domineering and rude and filled with so much testosterone that a five o'clock shadow darkened his cheeks at four-fifteen. And when he kissed, his aura turned the deepest red of any man she'd ever known.
She thought of telling Francis about the morning she'd pulled a derringer on an undercover cop and ended up as his confidential informant. But this was too huge a secret to tell.
Gabrielle shaded her eyes with her hand and looked over at her friend. She'd never been any good at keeping secrets. 'If I tell you something, you have to promise not to tell,' she began, then proceeded to squeal like a jailhouse rat. She hit the high points, but purposely left out the disturbing details, like the fact that he had the hard, rippling muscles of an underwear model and kissed like a man who could seduce even the most frigid woman out of her support hose. 'Joe Shanahan is overbearing and rude, and I'm stuck with him until Kevin's cleared of this whole ridiculous nonsense,' she finished, feeling purged. For once, Gabrielle's problems were bigger than her friend's.
Francis was silent for a moment, then murmured, 'Hmm.' She pushed a pair of rose-colored sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. 'So, what does this guy look like?'
Gabrielle turned her face to the sun. She closed her eyes and saw Joe's face, his intense eyes and spiky lashes, the sensual lines of his mouth, and the perfect symmetry of his wide forehead, straight nose, and strong chin. His thick brown hair tended to curl about his ears and the back of his neck, softening his powerful, masculine features. He smelled wonderful. 'Nothing special.'
'That's too bad. If I were forced to work with a cop, I'd want one of those beefcake-calendar boys.'
Which, Gabrielle supposed, pretty much described Joe.
'I'd make him carry heavy boxes and get all sweaty,' Francis continued with the fantasy.
'And I'd watch his buns of steel when he bent over.'
Gabrielle frowned. 'Well, I look at a man's soul. His appearance is unimportant.'
'You know what? I've heard you say that before, and if it's true, then why didn't you sleep with your old boyfriend Harold Maddox?'
Francis had a point, but no way was Gabrielle going to admit looks were as important as the essence of a man's soul. They weren't. A mentally developed enlightened man was so much sexier than a cave dweller. Problem was, that physical attraction thing sometimes got in the way. 'I had my reasons.'
'Yeah, like he was boring and had a scraggly ponytail and everyone mistook him for your dad.'
'He wasn't
'Whatever you say.'
Gabrielle could make a few comments about Francis's choice of men and husbands but chose not to.
'I'm not all that surprised Kevin is a suspect,' Francis said. 'He can be a weasel.'
Gabrielle looked across at her friend and frowned. Francis and Kevin had dated for a short time, and now the two of them had a sort of love-hate relationship. Gabrielle had never asked why or what had happened; she didn't want to know. 'You're only saying that because you don't like him.'
'Maybe, but promise me you'll keep your eyes open anyway. You put too much blind trust in your friends.' Francis stood and straightened her sundress.
Gabrielle didn't think she gave blind trust, but she believed the trust she gave was the trust she received. If she didn't give it freely, she wouldn't get it back. 'Are you leaving?'
'Yeah, I got a date with a plumber. Should prove interesting. He's got a great body, but he doesn't say much. If he isn't too boring, I'll let him take me home and show me his monkey wrench.'
Gabrielle purposely didn't comment on that last remark. 'Could you hit play on my tape recorder?' she asked and pointed to the old cassette player sitting on a wicker table.
'I don't know how you can listen to this crap.'
'You should try it. You might find the meaning of life.'
'Yeah well, I'd rather listen to Aerosmith. Steven Tyler gives my life meaning.'
'Dream On.'
'Ha ha,' Francis said, and the slamming of the back screen door signaled her departure. Gabrielle checked her tan line for signs of burning, then closed her eyes and contemplated her connection in the universe. She sought answers. Answers to the questions she didn't understand. Like why fate had determined Joe should enter her life with the force of a cosmic tornado.
Joe tossed his cigarette into a rhododendron bush, then raised his hand to the heavy wooden door. Just as he knocked, it opened, and a woman with short blond hair and glossy pink lips stared at him from behind a pair of rose-colored sunglasses. Even though he'd watched this address for weeks, he stepped back and looked at the bright red street numbers tacked to the side of the house. 'I'm looking for Gabrielle Breedlove,' he said.
'You must be Joe.'
Surprised, his gaze returned to the woman before him.
Behind the lenses of her sunglasses, her blue eyes slid down his chest. 'She told me you're her boyfriend, but she obviously left out a lot.' She raised her gaze to his face and smiled. 'I wonder why she left out the good stuff?'
Joe wondered exactly what his informant had said about him. He had a few other questions he wanted to ask her as well, but that wasn't the only reason he needed to see her. He'd never worked with anyone as uptight and hostile as Gabrielle, and he feared she might flip on him completely and blow his cover. He needed her calm and cooperative. No more scenes. No more placing herself between him and his new buddy, Kevin. 'Where is Gabrielle?'
'In the pool in the backyard.' She stepped outside and shut the door behind her. 'Come on. I'll show you.' She escorted him to the side of the house and pointed toward a tall fence covered in climbing roses. An arch with an open gate divided the fence in two sections.
'Through there.' The woman pointed, then turned to leave.
Joe walked under the arch and took two full steps before stopping in his tracks. The backyard was filled with a profusion of color and fragrant flowers. And Gabrielle Breedlove floating in a kiddie wading pool. His gaze took her in all at once, but his attention was drawn to the belly ring he'd felt while frisking her a few days before. He'd never been partial to women with body piercings, but… damn. That little ring of silver made his mouth dry.
Her hand brushed the top of the water, and she rubbed her wet fingers over her abdomen. Several droplets drifted across her stomach and her sides. One clear drop caught a ray of sunlight as it slid slowly down her belly and disappeared into her navel. His insides got all itchy and hot, and desire pulled in his groin. He stood with his feet rooted to the lawn, growing hard and heavy, powerless to control the unwelcome thoughts that assaulted him. Thoughts of walking into that pool, wrapping his arms around her waist and sucking that droplet of water from her navel, then dipping his tongue inside and licking her warm flesh. He tried to remind himself that she was crazy, nutty, cuckoo, but after nine hours, he still remembered the soft texture of her lips pressed against his.
That kiss had been part of his job, to shut her up before she blew his cover. His body had responded, of course, and he hadn't been surprised by his reaction to the taste of her warm mouth and the closeness of her breasts, but he'd made a big mistake with her. He'd slipped his tongue in her mouth, and now he knew she tasted a little like peppermint and a lot like passion. He knew the soft tangle of her hair around his fingers and knew she smelled like exotic flowers. She hadn't pushed him away or resisted, and her response had reached down and grabbed him by
