Controlling the Detectives (The Magic Remote Book 3) by Nadia Nightside Page A
Authors: Nadia Nightside
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and both had closed over ninety percent of their cases in the past three years. Perhaps their beauty, and the tendency of bad guys not to take them seriously because of it, added to their success rate. Heather tried not to think about it—she just wanted to be known as someone damn good at her job.
Even so, Heather suspected that part of their success also had to do with Sandra's desperation to impress Heather. Sandra's affection for Heather bordered on . . . well, romantic at times. Heather did not mind, so much—it netted her free food, and wine, and lots of extra groundwork on cases—but she did not feel anything like that in return for Sandra.
Heather had known for a very long time that she was an attractive woman. Diet and yoga kept her medium-sized frame in tight, firm shape all over. Normally, she only dressed in jeans and t-shirts as she was today. Nothing fancy, nothing showy. Tight jeans, working boots, and a shirt and a jacket. Sandra wore the same, though her boots wrapped around her jeans and up her legs over her knees.
This was due to the fact, of course, that Heather had mentioned something once about finding tall boots cute.
Being beautiful had not done either of them many favors in the department itself—mostly just sparking rumors about sexuality and late-night trysts. But, not only being fit but having a gorgeous face—with her tilting high cheekbones and perfect lips—had come in handy in the past when she was trying to solve a case. She would dress up on occasion, in a tight pinstripe skirt suit or in a clingy red mini dress. People, men or women, would let a beautiful girl in wherever she wanted most of the time.
The combination of her long legs and short height made her significantly hefty bust seem even more significant. She had short black hair, often kept in a bob that curled up around her face. Her lips were thick and entirely kissable, her eyes just as dark as her hair. In contrast to her dark hair was the bright paleness of her smooth skin. In high school, many years ago, she had been a shoo-in to play Snow White.
These days, she still sometimes used her acting skills—to get past doors, to get people to pay less attention to her as she snooped around in offices.
Heather eyed Sandra, somewhat lazily, as she sat back in the car.
It wasn't that Sandra was unattractive. She was a beautiful young woman—her shoulder-length red hair was often tied up in a ponytail, and her skin was a natural, deep tan. She had some sexy Eastern European background, born in some sexy-sounding country, and a tinge of that accent popped out whenever she was excited. Her breasts were full 36Cs, her body rigorously toned and muscled from an absolutely merciless workout program. Sandra had tried to get Heather to join the program (which Heather suspected was only to get her sweaty and in less clothes), but Heather had always said no.
Unfortunately, Sandra was sometimes painfully obvious about wanting Heather's body, clearly living for any hint of reciprocation. Heather got the feeling it netted Sandra a lot of lonely nights, which was ironic for a girl that any guy in the department would kill to be with.
Heather's own sexuality was rather more complicated than straight or gay. Even Heather had trouble admitting the truth to herself about what really turned her on. If she let her guard down, if she let her mind slip, she was constrained again, her body unable to move without permission . . .
. . . but now was no time for that.
“Hey now,” said Sandra, sitting up. “What's that?”
Heather sat up. Using the binoculars, she saw that Carmen, the hot young thing that had broken her Daddy's heart, had brought home a girl with her.
Heather, inexplicably, started getting bad vibe, seeing Carmen's plastered smile as she led the young woman inside.
Most of being a detective was sitting and waiting, when she wasn't doing paperwork. It was an acceptable life. It was not a fulfilling one. If Heather was not
Even so, Heather suspected that part of their success also had to do with Sandra's desperation to impress Heather. Sandra's affection for Heather bordered on . . . well, romantic at times. Heather did not mind, so much—it netted her free food, and wine, and lots of extra groundwork on cases—but she did not feel anything like that in return for Sandra.
Heather had known for a very long time that she was an attractive woman. Diet and yoga kept her medium-sized frame in tight, firm shape all over. Normally, she only dressed in jeans and t-shirts as she was today. Nothing fancy, nothing showy. Tight jeans, working boots, and a shirt and a jacket. Sandra wore the same, though her boots wrapped around her jeans and up her legs over her knees.
This was due to the fact, of course, that Heather had mentioned something once about finding tall boots cute.
Being beautiful had not done either of them many favors in the department itself—mostly just sparking rumors about sexuality and late-night trysts. But, not only being fit but having a gorgeous face—with her tilting high cheekbones and perfect lips—had come in handy in the past when she was trying to solve a case. She would dress up on occasion, in a tight pinstripe skirt suit or in a clingy red mini dress. People, men or women, would let a beautiful girl in wherever she wanted most of the time.
The combination of her long legs and short height made her significantly hefty bust seem even more significant. She had short black hair, often kept in a bob that curled up around her face. Her lips were thick and entirely kissable, her eyes just as dark as her hair. In contrast to her dark hair was the bright paleness of her smooth skin. In high school, many years ago, she had been a shoo-in to play Snow White.
These days, she still sometimes used her acting skills—to get past doors, to get people to pay less attention to her as she snooped around in offices.
Heather eyed Sandra, somewhat lazily, as she sat back in the car.
It wasn't that Sandra was unattractive. She was a beautiful young woman—her shoulder-length red hair was often tied up in a ponytail, and her skin was a natural, deep tan. She had some sexy Eastern European background, born in some sexy-sounding country, and a tinge of that accent popped out whenever she was excited. Her breasts were full 36Cs, her body rigorously toned and muscled from an absolutely merciless workout program. Sandra had tried to get Heather to join the program (which Heather suspected was only to get her sweaty and in less clothes), but Heather had always said no.
Unfortunately, Sandra was sometimes painfully obvious about wanting Heather's body, clearly living for any hint of reciprocation. Heather got the feeling it netted Sandra a lot of lonely nights, which was ironic for a girl that any guy in the department would kill to be with.
Heather's own sexuality was rather more complicated than straight or gay. Even Heather had trouble admitting the truth to herself about what really turned her on. If she let her guard down, if she let her mind slip, she was constrained again, her body unable to move without permission . . .
. . . but now was no time for that.
“Hey now,” said Sandra, sitting up. “What's that?”
Heather sat up. Using the binoculars, she saw that Carmen, the hot young thing that had broken her Daddy's heart, had brought home a girl with her.
Heather, inexplicably, started getting bad vibe, seeing Carmen's plastered smile as she led the young woman inside.
Most of being a detective was sitting and waiting, when she wasn't doing paperwork. It was an acceptable life. It was not a fulfilling one. If Heather was not
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