office.
“It’s Fletcher. I didn’t think you were much on daylight hours.”
“I’m not. Some days are exceptions. What can I do for you, Detective?”
“You can come downstairs and let me in. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He waited a beat. “So, what are you wearing?”
She hated herself for laughing and hoped she managed to smother most of it. “My badge,” she told him and flicked the phone off.
Jonah hung up, sat back and entertained himself by imagining Allison Fletcher wearing her badge, and nothing else. The image came through, entirely too clear, entirely too appealing, and had him shoving back from the desk.
He had no business imagining Boyd’s daughter naked. No business, he reminded himself, fantasizing about Boyd’s daughter in any way whatsoever. Or wondering how her mouth would taste. Or what scent he’d find on the flesh just under the line of that very stubborn jaw.
God, he wanted to sink his teeth there, right there. Just once.
Forbidden fruit, he told himself and paced since there was no one to see. She was forbidden fruit and therefore all the more alluring. She wasn’t even his type. Maybe he liked leggy blondes. Maybe he liked leggy blondes with brains and a strong backbone. But he preferred friendlier women.
Friendlier, unarmed women, he thought, amusing himself.
He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head, and the clearest, most compelling picture had been the yielding and temporary, he was certain, fragility of her when she’d fallen asleep in his car.
Well, he’d always been a sucker for the needy, he reminded himself as he pulled up the blinds on his office window. Which should solve his problem over Allison. Despite that short interlude of vulnerability early that morning, needy was one thing the gorgeous detective wasn’t.
She had a use for him, again temporary. And when the job was done, they’d both go back to their separate corners in their separate worlds. And that would be the end of that.
He saw her pull up in front of the club. At least she’d had the sense to drive, he noted, and wasn’t hiking all over Denver today.
He took his time going down to let her in.
“Good morning, Detective.” He looked around her, studied the flashy lines of the classic red-and-white Stingray. “Nice car. Is that the new police issue? Oh wait, what was I thinking? Your daddy’s loaded.”
“If you think you can razz me over a car, you’re going to be disappointed. Nobody razzes like a precinct full of cops.”
“I’ll practice. Nice threads,” he commented and rubbed the lapel of her subtly patterned brown jacket between his thumb and forefinger. “Very nice.”
“So we both like Italian designers. We can compare wardrobes later.”
Because he knew it would irritate her, because he enjoyed the way the gold highlighted her eyeswhen he irritated her, he shifted, blocking her before she could step inside. “Let me see the badge.”
“Come off it, Blackhawk.”
“No. Let’s see it.”
Eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses, she pulled her badge out of her pocket, pushed it close to his face. “See it?”
“Yes. Badge number 31628. I’ll buy myself a lottery ticket and play your numbers.”
“Here’s something else you might want to look at.” She took out the warrant, held it up.
“Fast work.” He’d expected no less. “Come on up. I’ve been reviewing the tapes. You look rested,” he said as they walked to his elevator.
“I am.”
“Any progress?”
“The investigation is ongoing.”
“Hmm, policy line.” He gestured her into the elevator. “We seem to be spending a lot of time in these. Close quarters.”
“You could do your heart a favor and take the stairs.”
“My heart’s never caused me any problems. How about yours?”
“Whole and healthy, thanks.” She walked out when the doors opened. “Wow, you actually let the sunlight in here. I’m shocked. Let’s have the tapes. I’ll
“It’s Fletcher. I didn’t think you were much on daylight hours.”
“I’m not. Some days are exceptions. What can I do for you, Detective?”
“You can come downstairs and let me in. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He waited a beat. “So, what are you wearing?”
She hated herself for laughing and hoped she managed to smother most of it. “My badge,” she told him and flicked the phone off.
Jonah hung up, sat back and entertained himself by imagining Allison Fletcher wearing her badge, and nothing else. The image came through, entirely too clear, entirely too appealing, and had him shoving back from the desk.
He had no business imagining Boyd’s daughter naked. No business, he reminded himself, fantasizing about Boyd’s daughter in any way whatsoever. Or wondering how her mouth would taste. Or what scent he’d find on the flesh just under the line of that very stubborn jaw.
God, he wanted to sink his teeth there, right there. Just once.
Forbidden fruit, he told himself and paced since there was no one to see. She was forbidden fruit and therefore all the more alluring. She wasn’t even his type. Maybe he liked leggy blondes. Maybe he liked leggy blondes with brains and a strong backbone. But he preferred friendlier women.
Friendlier, unarmed women, he thought, amusing himself.
He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head, and the clearest, most compelling picture had been the yielding and temporary, he was certain, fragility of her when she’d fallen asleep in his car.
Well, he’d always been a sucker for the needy, he reminded himself as he pulled up the blinds on his office window. Which should solve his problem over Allison. Despite that short interlude of vulnerability early that morning, needy was one thing the gorgeous detective wasn’t.
She had a use for him, again temporary. And when the job was done, they’d both go back to their separate corners in their separate worlds. And that would be the end of that.
He saw her pull up in front of the club. At least she’d had the sense to drive, he noted, and wasn’t hiking all over Denver today.
He took his time going down to let her in.
“Good morning, Detective.” He looked around her, studied the flashy lines of the classic red-and-white Stingray. “Nice car. Is that the new police issue? Oh wait, what was I thinking? Your daddy’s loaded.”
“If you think you can razz me over a car, you’re going to be disappointed. Nobody razzes like a precinct full of cops.”
“I’ll practice. Nice threads,” he commented and rubbed the lapel of her subtly patterned brown jacket between his thumb and forefinger. “Very nice.”
“So we both like Italian designers. We can compare wardrobes later.”
Because he knew it would irritate her, because he enjoyed the way the gold highlighted her eyeswhen he irritated her, he shifted, blocking her before she could step inside. “Let me see the badge.”
“Come off it, Blackhawk.”
“No. Let’s see it.”
Eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses, she pulled her badge out of her pocket, pushed it close to his face. “See it?”
“Yes. Badge number 31628. I’ll buy myself a lottery ticket and play your numbers.”
“Here’s something else you might want to look at.” She took out the warrant, held it up.
“Fast work.” He’d expected no less. “Come on up. I’ve been reviewing the tapes. You look rested,” he said as they walked to his elevator.
“I am.”
“Any progress?”
“The investigation is ongoing.”
“Hmm, policy line.” He gestured her into the elevator. “We seem to be spending a lot of time in these. Close quarters.”
“You could do your heart a favor and take the stairs.”
“My heart’s never caused me any problems. How about yours?”
“Whole and healthy, thanks.” She walked out when the doors opened. “Wow, you actually let the sunlight in here. I’m shocked. Let’s have the tapes. I’ll
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