The two of us could put her off. I’ve got a meet with Jimmy Hogan later anyhow. He called this morning.”
“Has he got something for us on Zamora?” she asked with interest.
Jimmy Hogan was an undercover narcotics agent who had infiltrated a multistate drug distribution network. He’d been under almost six months when he’d first contacted them with the news that the same organization was trafficking in kiddie porn and maybe in the kids themselves. He said he’d tip them to the details if he could do it without blowing his cover.
“Don’t know,” Jeff said as he drained his coffee cup and got up to get a refill. He motioned with the cup inquiringly to Rebecca, but she shook her head no. “He said he couldn’t talk, but that he had something hot for us.”
“Good,” she said sharply. Like most cops, she hated anyone who preyed on children. “Let me know if you get anything we can roll on.”
“Right,” he said absently as he walked away, wondering if he’d be able to get home for an afternoon quickie with Shelley after the meet with Hogan.
*
Shortly after four p.m., Rebecca stepped off the elevator onto the inpatient psychiatry floor. Turning left toward the patient rooms, she saw Catherine leaning against the counter at the nurses’ station, studying a chart. She slowed and took advantage of the opportunity to observe the psychiatrist unawares, noting the easy way she stood, her sleekly tailored skirt outlining shapely legs. Even the slight frown of concentration couldn’t diminish the delicate allure of her features.
Rebecca knew what she was feeling as she looked at Catherine Rawlings, and it worried her. She didn’t
want
to be stirred by her, but she was, and it wasn’t just physical, despite her erotic fantasy the previous night. The swift rush of desire was bad enough, but what she
felt
when she saw her, the ache of longing—that more than worried her. It scared her. That was downright dangerous. To make matters worse, she was in the middle of an ugly case, and the last thing she needed was a personal complication. Rebecca had stopped walking without realizing it and was standing a few feet away, awash with conflicting reactions, when Catherine looked up.
“Hi,” Catherine called as she pushed the chart aside, smiling in welcome. Not even thinking to hide her pleasure, she surveyed Rebecca’s tall figure with appreciation. She knew very well that she had been distracted all morning, an unusual circumstance for her, and she also knew very well why. She’d been thinking about seeing the detective again, remembering the swift stab of excitement she’d experienced when she’d been favored with that brilliant grin the night before. There had been nothing ambiguous about
that
reaction. She’d been…aroused in a way she couldn’t recall ever having been before.
Pheromones
, she thought, watching Rebecca Frye, long-limbed, lithe, and so commanding, and felt that tingle start again.
Whatever they are, she’s got them
.
Rebecca forced herself to start moving again, ignoring the heat spreading through her as she noted Catherine’s admiring glance.
It’s probably all in my mind
, she chided herself. She deliberately kept her face impassive. “Hello. Is this a good time to talk?”
Catherine recognized something of Rebecca’s uncertainty. Detective Sergeant Rebecca Frye might know exactly who she was in the world, on the streets, but it was plain to Catherine that the woman behind the badge was much less certain of what she wanted or needed. But some things could not be rushed.
Go slow
.
She doesn’t trust you—or herself.
“I’ve just finished speaking with Janet,” she said. “I think she’s ready to see you.”
“Good. Does she know I’m coming?” Rebecca asked, grateful that she was able to focus on the case and pretend that the faint hint of Catherine’s scent did not affect her.
“Yes
.
I thought it best to prepare her.”
“How is she?”
Catherine shrugged, a
“Has he got something for us on Zamora?” she asked with interest.
Jimmy Hogan was an undercover narcotics agent who had infiltrated a multistate drug distribution network. He’d been under almost six months when he’d first contacted them with the news that the same organization was trafficking in kiddie porn and maybe in the kids themselves. He said he’d tip them to the details if he could do it without blowing his cover.
“Don’t know,” Jeff said as he drained his coffee cup and got up to get a refill. He motioned with the cup inquiringly to Rebecca, but she shook her head no. “He said he couldn’t talk, but that he had something hot for us.”
“Good,” she said sharply. Like most cops, she hated anyone who preyed on children. “Let me know if you get anything we can roll on.”
“Right,” he said absently as he walked away, wondering if he’d be able to get home for an afternoon quickie with Shelley after the meet with Hogan.
*
Shortly after four p.m., Rebecca stepped off the elevator onto the inpatient psychiatry floor. Turning left toward the patient rooms, she saw Catherine leaning against the counter at the nurses’ station, studying a chart. She slowed and took advantage of the opportunity to observe the psychiatrist unawares, noting the easy way she stood, her sleekly tailored skirt outlining shapely legs. Even the slight frown of concentration couldn’t diminish the delicate allure of her features.
Rebecca knew what she was feeling as she looked at Catherine Rawlings, and it worried her. She didn’t
want
to be stirred by her, but she was, and it wasn’t just physical, despite her erotic fantasy the previous night. The swift rush of desire was bad enough, but what she
felt
when she saw her, the ache of longing—that more than worried her. It scared her. That was downright dangerous. To make matters worse, she was in the middle of an ugly case, and the last thing she needed was a personal complication. Rebecca had stopped walking without realizing it and was standing a few feet away, awash with conflicting reactions, when Catherine looked up.
“Hi,” Catherine called as she pushed the chart aside, smiling in welcome. Not even thinking to hide her pleasure, she surveyed Rebecca’s tall figure with appreciation. She knew very well that she had been distracted all morning, an unusual circumstance for her, and she also knew very well why. She’d been thinking about seeing the detective again, remembering the swift stab of excitement she’d experienced when she’d been favored with that brilliant grin the night before. There had been nothing ambiguous about
that
reaction. She’d been…aroused in a way she couldn’t recall ever having been before.
Pheromones
, she thought, watching Rebecca Frye, long-limbed, lithe, and so commanding, and felt that tingle start again.
Whatever they are, she’s got them
.
Rebecca forced herself to start moving again, ignoring the heat spreading through her as she noted Catherine’s admiring glance.
It’s probably all in my mind
, she chided herself. She deliberately kept her face impassive. “Hello. Is this a good time to talk?”
Catherine recognized something of Rebecca’s uncertainty. Detective Sergeant Rebecca Frye might know exactly who she was in the world, on the streets, but it was plain to Catherine that the woman behind the badge was much less certain of what she wanted or needed. But some things could not be rushed.
Go slow
.
She doesn’t trust you—or herself.
“I’ve just finished speaking with Janet,” she said. “I think she’s ready to see you.”
“Good. Does she know I’m coming?” Rebecca asked, grateful that she was able to focus on the case and pretend that the faint hint of Catherine’s scent did not affect her.
“Yes
.
I thought it best to prepare her.”
“How is she?”
Catherine shrugged, a
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