A Fine Specimen Read online

  She nodded. It wasn’t enough.

  “Tell me what you’re going to do.”

  “Lock,” she said breathlessly. “Chair under the handle.”

  “Lock the windows too. I don’t care how hot it gets.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “You don’t open for anyone but me. Ever. Is that clear?”

  “Yes.” Her breathing had slowed a little. Caitlin was watching him steadily out of those clear, pale blue eyes.

  “You should be okay taking the bus in the mornings. I’ll be driving you home in the evenings.”

  “I— Okay.”

  “You don’t talk to anyone here.” Nail it down. “Understood?”

  She nodded, eyes huge.

  Christ, he had to get out of there. She was unspeakably beautiful with the flush of the orgasm pinking her cheeks. Alex knew that if he didn’t go now, he wouldn’t be going at all.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She nodded again.

  “Lock that door.” He stepped out and waited as she closed the door, locked it, and didn’t leave until he heard the scrape of the chair on the floor and the bump as it was leaned against the door.

  Okay, he thought. I can go now. But he didn’t. He stayed right where he was as if his feet had been nailed to the stained carpet and stared at the door. For five minutes, ten, until he finally told himself to stop being such a dickhead and get out of there. His heart thundered as he walked down the dim corridor.

  Why the fuck had he done it? It was going to make for complications and he didn’t need that.

  He didn’t need complications, he didn’t need her.

  He didn’t need anything or anyone, except maybe Angelo Lopez. Behind bars.

  Chapter Five

  The next day, Caitlin did her best to stay out of Alex’s way. Luckily he was ignoring her too, which was good because, after all, what could she say? Sorry I behaved so unprofessionally. It’s just that you smelled so good and felt so good and tasted so good I simply lost my head.

  How could she say that?

  She couldn’t even begin to imagine what had gotten into her, except that she had been taken utterly and completely by surprise. Lieutenant Alejandro Cruz had seemed so…so incredibly un-kissable—right up until the moment he’d kissed her.

  And kissed her and kissed her and touched her and made her come.

  Wow, that was another surprise. Caitlin had had what she considered the requisite number of lovers for her age and socioeconomic status. Not too many, not too few. None particularly memorable and not one—not one!—capable of making her climax within a few moments with only what her grandmother would have called heavy petting.

  If anything, she was slow to climax, as a couple of former lovers had complained.

  Not with Lieutenant Alejandro Cruz, oh no. A kiss and a touch and it was like holding a match to a fuse. She’d simply blown apart.

  It was all immensely embarrassing.

  Even more embarrassing was the fact that she hadn’t slept all night, and not just because the bed was hard and lumpy and smelly. She’d tossed and turned until the sky outside her window turned gray. The whole night she’d relived every second, from the moment his mouth had touched hers. She’d squirmed with embarrassment, it was true, but also with heat.

  Even the memory of the few moments with him had been way more exciting than actual sex with her last two boyfriends.

  Caitlin felt irrevocably changed. Instead of being a rather uptight scholar who was better with books than men, she’d morphed into a siren, a woman who could tempt a man as luscious as Lieutenant Alejandro Cruz—even if only for a few moments—and who could climax almost on demand.

  Wow, that put her up into sex goddess country.

  Pity her sex goddess phase was so short-lived. The instant Alex had lifted his mouth from hers, he’d morphed right back into Mr. Hard-Ass. You’d have thought that a man who had taken a woman to climax in four minutes, tops, with only his mouth and his hand would have had a self-satisfied look on him, happy to have strutted his stuff so successfully. Maybe looking forward to Stage Two on the bed, naked.

  Instead, Alex had looked appalled, as if he wanted to arrest himself. Then he’d gone into protective overdrive as he backed away, pretending his only concern was keeping her safe.

  His backing away was the cue for her head to start working again instead of other body parts. And as soon as the blood returned to her head, she was stricken with remorse. What had she been thinking? Of nothing at all, apparently.

  God, she’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.

  Caitlin prided herself on her professionalism. Melting in the arms of a man she’d just met and who was crucial to her work was as nonprofessional as it got. Caitlin would never get anywhere, all her sacrifices would be in vain, if she became the kind of woman who hopped into bed with the first authority figure who crossed her path.

  So now that she was clear on the fact that Alejandro Cruz messed with her mind in a major way, she had to avoid him as much as possible and keep her cool when she couldn’t.

  Caitlin had precious few resources in this life. She had little money, no status, no job, with only the possibility of the fellowship. The only real things she could count on were her mind and her reputation. If she wasn’t careful, Alex Cruz would destroy both.

  When she’d walked into the station house at 8 a.m., together with the incoming morning shift, Caitlin had resolved to stay well out of Alex Cruz’s way. It wasn’t hard to do. She hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him during the entire morning, which she happily spent interviewing officers.

  She didn’t see him, but she did, however, get an earful about him.

  Every single interview eventually veered, sooner rather than later, to the subject of the Loot. They’d start out with a discussion of, say, cycles of criminal activity, work schedules or local crime patterns, and within five minutes the officers were discussing the man everyone knew was slated to become the new captain. That was the only thing the officers really wanted to talk about—Alejandro Cruz.

  They loved him. They hated him. They respected him. And they all deeply, deeply wanted him to get a life so he would get off their backs.

  Kathy Martello told Caitlin about Cruz’s background. “Alex was a punk himself once. Long time ago,” Kathy told her over a cup of the bitter station-house brew. “It’s how come he’s so good at catching criminals. He knows how they think. He knows exactly what makes them tick. Alex’s got one of the highest arrest and conviction rates in the state, did you know that?” Kathy had shaken her head in admiration before sipping her coffee. “Guy’s a genius at anticipating a criminal’s next move, it’s like he’s got a sixth sense for it. And with all that, for all his smarts, he doesn’t have a clue about emotions or feelings. Not his or anyone else’s. Not a clue.”

  Ben Cade, the meat mountain, was even more direct. Caitlin interviewed him in the interrogation room. He was huge, jovial, dressed in vibrant, clashing colors.

  Caitlin found out that Ben had been an insurance adjuster before becoming a cop, that he had another ten years until retirement and that he was dating a pretty Frenchwoman who had just moved to Baylorville to open a French pastry shop. He was studying French to impress her.

  “Alex’s a great guy, a great cop, the best, but I guess he gets a little…single-minded, some might say obsessed, when he’s on someone’s trail. Hasn’t had a Sunday off in years, hasn’t gotten laid in—”

  He broke off, eyed Caitlin and sighed. “Anyway, right now he’s got Angelo Lopez in his sights and I tell you he eats, sleeps, breathes the fuck— Er, Lopez. He’s always got Lopez’s file in hand. But Alex’s gotta let off steam somehow or he’s gonna blow. Years ago, when he joined the force, he was a real okay guy. We’d go out drinking and carousing.” Ben smiled reminiscently and shrugged a broad plaid shoulder. “Which is prob’ly why my second wife divorced me. Anyway, Alex had a string of women panting after him then. But he just got so wrapp
ed around the axle on this job, it’s all he can see anymore. He’s been a mean-tempered sonovabitch lately, I can tell you that. There are a lot of officers who’d be really happy if he…you know…got hisself a life. Lightened up a little. Met some nice girl, settled down some, got laid on a regular basis, know what I mean?” Ben’s eyes bored directly into hers. “Toot sweet.”

  * * * * *

  In the early afternoon, while Caitlin was finishing her second interview with Kathy Martello, Alex showed up.

  Caitlin was startled. She’d already told him she was planning on leaving early and taking Saturday and Sunday off. Her plan was to take the 2:30 bus back to the hotel, go over her notes and write them up. Over the weekend, she’d take the bus into town for her meals. There certainly wasn’t anyplace in Riverhead she’d trust enough to eat in.

  She wouldn’t be traveling back to Riverhead in the evening again until the beginning of next week. She hadn’t expected to see Alex Cruz until Monday evening.

  Alex stood in the doorframe, filling it, glowering. He turned to Kathy Martello. “Sergeant, there you are. I want that report on the Branson shooting on my desk by Monday morning.”

  “Yes sir,” Kathy said. She looked up at him. When he gave no sign of moving, she added, “Was there something else, sir?”

  Alex turned his scowl on Caitlin and she straightened in her chair. Was something wrong? Why was he looking at her like that? “Tomorrow evening,” Alex said, pointing a finger at her. “I’ll pick you up at 7:30 at your hotel.”

  “Tomorrow…evening?” Caitlin repeated, bewildered. Her brow furrowed. She couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. “You’ll pick me up—” She blinked. “Why?”

  “Dinner,” Alex said, jaw muscles bunching, and turned away.

  Caitlin could hear his footsteps echoing down the corridor. Confused, she turned to Kathy Martello. “Dinner?”

  “Dinner.” Sgt. Martello kept her expression bland. She pursed her lips. “You know—that meal you eat in the evenings?”

  “I know what dinner is, I just…” Caitlin made an exasperated sound and rolled her eyes. “Why does Lieutenant Cruz think he has to feed me?”

  “I think—now don’t quote me on this—but I think that Alex was looking at it more like a…a date. You know? You’ve just been asked out on a Saturday night date, hon. That’s my reading of it, anyway. Though I’ll agree the invitation left a lot to be desired.”

  “A date?” Caitlin asked, turning the incident around in her mind. That was an invitation to a dinner date? Not where she came from. Even the geekiest scholar with the most abysmal social skills could do better than that. “I don’t know…it didn’t feel like he was asking for a date. It felt more like a…a summons.”

  “Alex is a little, um, authoritarian at times,” Kathy said kindly, hitching her gun belt.

  Caitlin sat still for a moment, thinking it over before starting to gather her papers. She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe he’s taking his feelings of responsibility too seriously. He feels like he has to take care of me, not just ferry me back to my hotel. For Ray’s sake.”

  “Nope, honey,” Kathy Martello said as she walked out. “Take it from me. You’ve just been asked out on a guy-girl kind of date by the Prince of Darkness.” She waggled her fingers and grinned wickedly. “Have fun.”

  * * * * *

  There was a message waiting for Caitlin at the Carlton when she got back to the hotel at three. Hassan stepped warily out from behind the curtain that separated his office from the front desk area, saw that she was unaccompanied and visibly relaxed. “Miss Summers,” he said gratefully. “You’re alone.”

  “That’s right, Hassan.” Caitlin smiled at him. “May I have my key?”

  He handed her the key, which he kept in his pocket, and an envelope. “This came for you about an hour ago, miss. A young lady left it.”

  “Thank you, Hassan.” Caitlin checked the back of the envelope. It was from Samantha Dane, her former college roommate. Sam had found a good job in Baylorville as executive assistant to a major industrialist, one of the backers of the Frederiksson Foundation. She was one of the reasons Caitlin was hoping for the job at the Frederiksson.

  If Samantha was writing, then there was news about the fellowship.

  In her room, Caitlin dumped her bag on the bed and opened the envelope. She hastily read the contents, hissed “Yesss!” and pumped her fist in the air. She did a little victory dance around the tiny room, trying not to bounce off the walls, then sat down on the only chair and read the note again, more carefully this time.

  Hi Caitlin, your mom told me where to find you. You weren’t in, I don’t have your cell number, so I decided to drop by and leave you a note. I just had to give you the good news right away! The Frederiksson Foundation Board meeting was this morning and you’ve just been approved for a one-year fellowship, renewable for two years! The fellowship grant is $45,000 a year. The Board will be making the public announcement on Thursday the 14th, so you should be getting official word by Wednesday, at the latest. You start on Monday the 18th. Congratulations! I’ll be out of town for ten days, but let’s go out to dinner to celebrate when I come back. Love, Sam.

  Caitlin sat back in the chair, her mind swirling. Sam’s words floated in her head, bright and golden, lighter than air.

  One-year fellowship…$45,000.

  In a daze, Caitlin called her mother with the news and received her congratulations. She sat down on the bed, took a deep breath and finally let her feelings rip. There were a lot of them and she let them all out in a whoosh.

  Elation. Excitement. Relief.

  It had begun.

  After so many years of hard work and study, her life had finally begun. She’d been stuck in studenthood for so long, it felt as if she’d been living in a cloister. She loved academic life and she was happy with her chosen course but she was also soooo ready to go out into the world and live.

  God, there was so much to do! Close down the furnished rental in Grants Falls, find something suitable here in Baylorville, find some cheap furniture… Well, not too cheap.

  Finally, some money. Real money, not a few miserly dollars hoarded from waitressing tips. God, she’d been living off student loans and what she’d managed to save from odd summer jobs for so long, it felt strange to think of actually having money, like an adult.

  Well, dammit, she was an adult, though she’d been a student since she was four years old.

  Caitlin looked down at herself and winced. Okay, she was an adult with an honest-to-god job—or the next best thing, a fellowship—but she sure didn’t look like an adult. The clothes were pure Early Student. Worn sneakers, ancient, faded jeans and an old cotton sweater which bagged nearly to her knees and reached to her fingertips. Every item of clothing she had on, including her underwear, was at least five years old.

  She had some money in her checking account that she’d been hoarding. Now she didn’t have to hoard so much because money would be coming in.

  Adult money, not student money.

  She could buy some clothes. New clothes, new shoes, makeup. Go to the hairdresser. Tomorrow would be Caitlin Day. Celebrate the start of the next part of her life in style.

  Maybe give the inscrutable Alex Cruz a surprise tomorrow night.

  Hoo-ah!

  * * * * *

  Alex nearly swallowed his tongue whole when Caitlin emerged from the Carlton’s elevator at 7:30 on Saturday evening.

  Holy fuck!

  She was right on time, as he’d expected she would be. She might look like a teenager, but she had shown herself to be serious, reliable and committed to her work.

  Except Caitlin Summers didn’t look like a teenager now. She looked like a woman. A drop-dead gorgeous woman. A woman he had a date with.

  Jesus, not a date, Alex backtracked immediately inside his head. No, no way. He was just looking after her, like Ray would have wanted. And if he found himself wearing his new lightweight wool jacket and new loafers, well…you ha
d to break in something new sometime, didn’t you?

  Thoughts of pants and loafers flew straight out of his head when Caitlin walked out the open doors of the rusty elevator. His head wasn’t thinking straight but, Jesus Christ, his body was. It sent up as immense clamor. That one! it shouted. I want that one!

  He’d been looking for another woman entirely when all of a sudden this…this siren stepped out. Alex had actually been looking at the wrong height for her head and found himself staring at her very beautiful neck. A quick glance down showed that she had on a pair of fuck-me shoes that on some women looked ridiculous and yet, on her, God! They made her legs look a mile long.

  Caitlin was dressed in a sexy, clinging turquoise sheath which lovingly caressed curves that had only been hinted at before in her old, baggy clothes. She wore makeup that made her eyes enormous, her mouth look like something that would raise a man from the dead and accentuated high, slanting cheekbones. Her pale blonde hair had been caught up in some sophisticated hairdo, exposing a slim, graceful neck. Those high heels changed everything, lifting her mouth that much closer to kissing range…

  Alex shook his head, as if to rid it of wayward thoughts. No kissing tonight, no, no, no. No kissing, no touching, no fondling. Nothing. Nada.

  But she was like a human bag of potato chips. One taste and you couldn’t stop.

  Caitlin was standing right in front of him, looking up, while he was giving himself strict orders to behave. “Hi.” Her voice was low, almost shy.

  “Uh…hi.” Nothing else would come out. Great. He’d managed to avoid swallowing his tongue, only to have it stick to the roof of his mouth. Talk, you idiot!

  “You look, uh…” Alex waved his hand awkwardly. There weren’t words to describe how she looked. “Nice.”

  They stared at each other in silence for a full ten seconds.

  “You look, um, nice too,” Caitlin finally said, and continued looking at him.

  “Miss?”

  Caitlin turned her head and gazed blankly at Hassan.

  “The key…miss?”