Heat of the Night Read online

  "I believe just moments ago you were the one urging me to rip the veneer off and take one of those pigs out for a spin."

  Gina grinned, shameless as usual. "Well, as long as you're in control of things, they can be useful. I mean, just because they're pigs doesn't mean we should have to make do without them. Why should our needs suffer?"

  Erin just shook her head. She and Gina had had this talk many times. Both of them had been through several pretty rocky relationships and despaired of ever meeting Mr. Nice Guy. Gina had since decided to enjoy a string of Mr. Right Nows. She seemed happy enough.

  After Erin's last breakup, she'd seriously wondered if her best friend didn't have the right idea. And now, while they were working so hard to build their new business, it was just as well that neither of them got serious about anyone anyway. Not that this was a problem for either of them at the moment.

  Blue eyes and a cocky smile flashed through her mind.

  "Well," Erin said, pushing that image right out of her mind, "it gets worse. I got a message about five minutes after I managed to escape that the mayor wants to see me in his office in two hours." She looked at her watch. "That was three Alka-Seltzers and forty-five minutes ago. I was hoping to get to Brady first, make sure he wasn't already on the warpath to get me fired."

  "You should stick it to him over the leak. I'm betting it was the police. Those guys can't keep anything sealed." She laughed dryly and held up her hand. "No, don't even go there. I know I left myself wide open on that one."

  Erin merely sighed. "Don't worry. I'm too upset to be a smart-ass at the moment."

  Now Gina did look concerned. "You don't really think the mayor would drop you. It's not your fault those guys dug up the dirt. You ran your plan by the mayor and he approved it."

  "Still, I should have seen it coming."

  Gina didn't bother to argue. They were both too stubborn. "Fine. So let's stop beating ourselves up here and focus on a solution. Did you call Brady? You could set up a meeting on the way to the mayor's office. Or at least confirm he's not out there trying to tear you down."

  "I tried on the cell on the way back here. He's out on the case, didn't respond to my call. Or the messages I left." She blew out a deep breath as she spun her briefcase around and opened it. "I guess I'd better figure out what I'm going to tell the mayor that will save our butts."

  "You'll figure something out. You always do." Erin rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks for all the help." Gina grinned as she headed for the door. "That's why they pay me the big bucks." She paused in the doorway. "Besides, I'll have my hands full trying to figure out a way to keep Tony from blaming me for what happened with his news director. Did I mention I hate insecure men?" She rolled her eyes, then ducked back to her own office.

  The space they'd rented was pricey, so it was small. Just enough for their two offices, a small reception area and a tiny file room that doubled as their break room. Gina had managed to negotiate a good enough deal to get them into the trendy section of town, but the rent still sucked up all their overhead allocation. So they dealt with not being able to hire a secretary, file clerk or receptionist.

  Actually, it wasn't so bad and they both equally pitched in. Ever since the first day they'd realized they both dreamed of careers in public relations, Erin and Gina had spent endless hours planning this business, right down to the carpeting and watercolors on the wall. After eighteen months, things were moving along well, but they knew they had a good two or three more years of growth before they could safely say they'd realized a solid foundation to their dream.

  Both were willing to give a great deal to make that dream a reality, and give they did, often at the expense of anything resembling a real life. But they were having the time of their lives building a dream. And that was a pretty good life in and of itself, wasn't it?

  "Most days anyway," Erin muttered. No one liked the down days, but this one bugged her more than most. This job for the mayor was the first time they'd been given such a high-profile opportunity to showcase their talents. And she was this close to ruining it.

  She had just rewound her mini-recorder and was set to relive those lovely, excruciating moments on the city hall steps—hoping to find something, anything, to save her butt with—when a light knock on the door made her jump. She quickly stabbed at the off button, but not fast enough.

  "What, you didn't get clobbered badly enough the first go-around?" Brady strolled into her office space. Space that became increasingly smaller with every step he took. It wasn't that he was such a huge man, although he did fill out the shoulders of that jacket without additional padding. He just had…presence.

  "I don't remember you being a glutton for punishment," he continued, then smiled. "Unless you were the one dishing it out, of course."

  "I'm not," she said curtly, too on edge to banter with him. "So if you came here to rub my nose in it, don't bother. Mayor Henley will be taking care of that little chore shortly." Erin tried not to roll her chair backward as he came right up to her desk. She hated being caught off guard like this. If by some miracle she survived losing the mayor's account, she was definitely going to find the money to hire a receptionist.

  "I didn't come here to gloat," he said. "That street brawl masquerading as a press conference pissed me off every bit as much as I imagine it did you."

  That steadied her. "So, the leak is from your end?"

  "I have no idea. I won't pretend we haven't had a problem in that area before, and I'm already looking into it. I put a call in to the mayor and blasted an aide of his, making damn sure it didn't come from them. I couldn't get any promises from him that it didn't, so you have that little bit of leverage."

  If she looked startled, it was because she was. "And you came here to tell me? I thought I was the enemy."

  "Right now the enemy are the thirty-some odd reporters and half-dozen television camera crews staked out at city hall and the station house. I don't have time to play with them. I figure that's your job."

  "Oh, so now that they're being a pain, you want them dumped on me."

  "They're always a pain. But now that they have more details than they were ever supposed to have—"

  "You yourself said you didn't know how long the seal would hold."

  "I know, but, like you, I'd hoped for at least forty-eight hours to get some of the initial canvassing done, so I'd have some answers to those questions."

  "What you're saying is, you needed me out there today as much as the mayor did." She didn't smile when she said it, this was too serious a problem for her to make light of. Needling him just seemed to come naturally to her. As did honesty. "Which means I let you both down."

  He looked at her for a long moment, then shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure I'd have handled it any better." His lips quirked. "In fact, I'm pretty damn sure I'd have made it a lot worse. I don't have much patience for that kind of crap. You handled them about as well as anyone would."

  She covered her heart with her hand. "A compliment?" She lifted her recorder. "Can I get that on record?"

  "Don't let it go to your head. There's still a major problem to be dealt with here."

  "So, what do you want from me?"

  "I've got an investigation to complete and until I'm convinced it's not a homicide, I'd appreciate you keeping the bloodhounds off my back."

  "That may not be my concern in about, oh.—" she glanced at her watch "—an hour from now."

  A gleam entered his eyes. The gleam a predator got when he thought about his prey. She ignored the little shiver it sent over her. And there was no pleasure in this one. She realized right then that she'd hate to be the one Brady was hunting when he was on the job.

  Off the job…?

  It surprised her that her mind even went there. Right now their little hormonal two-step should be the last thing on either of their minds. And yet, she realized it was never more than a beat away from surging to the surface. Something she'd do well to remember.

  "I know you," he said b
luntly. "You're not going to let the mayor walk all over you. No way are you walking away from a high-profile job without one hell of a fight."

  "True," she said, glad he understood that. A lot of men were put off, intimidated, by a woman who knew what she wanted and set out to get it. Brady wasn't. If anything, she thought he actually respected that aspect of her. But then, that was one thing they shared, their drive. He was only annoyed by it when it got in his way.

  "So why are you here? For the pep talk?" She knew better. "I don't think so. You have something for me. What is it?"

  Brady sighed. "I hate it when you do that."

  "What? Figure things out before you can make a point?" She felt herself relax. Well, not relax exactly, but focus. The adrenaline was pumping again, and oddly enough, that calmed her. "I can't help it if I'm faster than you."

  He walked around the side of her desk and perched on the edge of it, much in the same place Gina had moments earlier. Only this felt nothing like when Gina invaded her personal space. She allowed her chair to lean back about one click, just enough so she could hold his gaze, not enough to be perceived as a retreat.

  "I'm not slow," he said evenly. "I'm methodical. And thorough." He leaned closer, spoke more deliberately. "Less mistakes are made that way."

  She tried not to swallow too hard, certain he'd notice. "Are you saying I'm rash?" She felt rash. All of a sudden she felt very rash. And hot.

  There was only business in his voice, but she swore there was something else going on just behind those eyes. That something that made her want to squirm in her seat…amongst other things.

  He ignored her question, but nothing else. "When you replay those questions, listen to the guy from the Examiner. He kept pounding at you on one of Sanderson's recent business openings. The Soap and Suds. I've looked into it. It's a Laundromat that serves beer and has a jukebox."

  "You're kidding."

  He shook his head. "Not kidding. But I can find no obvious link from that to where and how Sanderson was found. Someone else manages it and runs it. Mort's press release back when he opened it touted the place as a way to help establish small, independent businesses downtown."

  "Sounds like him," she said. "He liked to take credit for single-handedly rejuvenating the entire urban-renewal project."

  "Right. He owns a number of small businesses and has also sold a number of them to the people managing them. I just can't find where anything else was going on in this particular one. But obviously the Examiner guy does, or he wouldn't have quizzed you on it to see what we knew."

  "I don't remember anyone quizzing me about a Laundromat beer joint."

  "Just listen back over the tape. You never responded to him, but it didn't keep him from asking about it, several times. He got lost in the roar."

  She looked at him. "But you heard it."

  His eyes twinkled. "I am a detective."

  "So you want me to what? Shake him down for you?"

  Her television cop-show lingo drew a smile from him, one that did nothing to help her stabilize her heart rate.

  "I want you to use your public relations skills to see what you can dig out of the guy. I figure you're close enough to his line of work that maybe he'd grant you a favor."

  She batted her eyelashes at him. "You mean, if I ask real nice and say pretty please? I think I can handle it." She flipped open her folder for the notes she'd taken down after the press conference was over. Somewhere in there she'd listed the names of—

  Brady shoved a business card under her nose. "Guy's name is Bradford Pitts."

  "Brad Pitts?" Erin laughed. "Poor guy."

  Brady just looked at her. "Anyway, that's his office number." He flipped the card over. "That one is my private number. Call me when you get something."

  She took the card. "Thank you," she said, and meant it. She also liked his faith in her, but she kept that to herself. "I'll call him right after I get done groveling to Henley."

  "I would pay to see you grovel."

  One lethal grin and her nipples went rock hard. How did he do that anyway?

  He strode to the door. "You might want to call Bradford, there, first. It might give you something to pass on to the mayor, even if he won't like hearing the information. At least he'll know you're working on it."

  Erin frowned now, forgetting about hard nipples. For the moment anyway. She had a feeling she'd be remembering them about as often as she remembered that grin. "You really think this guy is onto something dirty that Sanderson might have been involved in?"

  "Define dirty."

  That made her pause, then smile. "Well, I was referring to dirty business practices, but I can see your mind was on leather masks and feather whips."

  She swore his gaze shifted down right to the front of her blazer. It was such a brief flicker, she couldn't be sure. No way he could have known about her nipples.

  His eyes steady on hers, he said, "My mind is on whatever connection Sanderson might have had to his possible killer. He was found handcuffed wearing satin and leather. Just because there was no sexual intercourse doesn't mean Morty didn't naturally get his kicks from dressing up like a slutty ballerina."

  Erin choked on a laugh. "Yeah. Okay." Then she couldn't help herself. "Maybe he'd have been better off opening a dry cleaner. Must have been hell keeping those tutus clean."

  Brady's mouth twitched, but he conquered the urge to smile. "We cover all the bases, Erin. Even ones that won't make the mayor happy."

  "We?"

  Brady sighed. "Just call me after you talk to Mr. Pitts."

  Erin nodded, but she was smiling when he left her office.

  Gina popped her head back in. "Detective Hunk in the oh-so-beautiful flesh? To what did we owe that honor?"

  "He's being forced to play with me and he hates it." She stared at the empty doorway. "Kind of." She raised her palm. "I don't want to hear it, so just go back to work."

  Gina laughed, then wagged her finger. "I'm telling you, Erin. Kaboom. Out-of-this-world, once-in-a-lifetime fireworks potential just walked out the door. You can almost taste sex in the air in here."

  "Please."

  She just laughed. "All you have to do is reach for it."

  "Right now I have to reach for the phone and call this reporter." Gina's instant sour expression made Erin laugh. "Yeah, I know, but Brady has a hunch this guy knows something about Sanderson."

  "And he's trusting you to get it out of him?" Gina lifted one eyebrow. "Hmm. He doesn't underestimate you. He's not intimidated either, as far as I can tell. He's a smart cop our Detective Hunk is." With a thoughtful look on her face that made Erin groan, Gina waved and left.

  Just as Erin went to lift the phone, Gina stuck her head back around the door frame. "Kaboom, Erin." She lifted her hand. "That's all I'm sayin'. Kaboom doesn't happen too often."

  5

  Brady snatched the phone up on the third ring. "Homicide, O'Keefe."

  "I love it when you get all authoritarian on me."

  Two second ago Brady would have bet money that nothing could make him smile that day. Leave it to Erin to even the odds. Maybe even swing them in her favor. Still, he kept the smile out of his voice. "What did you find out?"

  "No, no, the mayor didn't fire me after all, but thank you for asking."

  Brady sighed, wondering how she could annoy and arouse him at the same time. And so often! "I didn't ask because I knew Henley wouldn't let you go."

  "Well, in this case your faith exceeded mine." Her tone turned dry. "Rare, I know, but thanks."

  "You're welcome." He liked that about her, too. She pulled no punches when dishing it out, but neither did she put on any pretenses when the focus was on her. "So, what did you get?"

  "You're like a bulldog," she said, but went on without waiting for a response. "I did talk to Pitts. And by the way, he's as lovely a human being as his last name would indicate."

  Brady swore he would not laugh. Smiling was one thing, but dammit, he was in the middle of a homicide inve
stigation, here. And all his instincts were beginning to scream at him that this was indeed a homicide. "Yeah, a real peach of a guy, I'm sure. What did you get out of him?"

  "Again with the faith. I'm going to have to start hanging out with you more often. Listen," she went on. "I have to make a few more calls and check in with the mayor. Is there any way we could meet and discuss this later?"

  "Calls? About this? Erin, I'm the detective here. Don't get carried away with this."

  "I can take care of myself, Detective."

  He swore under his breath. "You didn't answer my question. Are the calls regarding the conversation with Pitts? If so, I want all the details. Now. I'll make the calls."

  "Just give me a time when we can meet."

  He sighed and swore again.

  "Very…inventive, Detective."

  He did not smile. He did not. "You make me crazy."

  "Well, that makes two of us."

  Brady paused then. He'd meant crazy in the purest sense of the word. At least this time he had. But there had been another layer to her response. Hadn't there? Or was that just wishful thinking?

  Oh yeah, like he needed to get more tangled up with her. What was he, nuts?

  He let his forehead sink onto his hand. "Seven o'clock. Jimmy's, over on Tenth. You know it?"

  "No, but I can find it. I'll be there."

  Brady hung up the phone, knowing he should only be looking forward to this meeting for the information she was about to give him. Which was why he totally refused to give in to the urge to comb his hair and straighten his tie. Hell, where was his tie anyway?

  Jimmy's was a small pizza and beer joint with a decent-size jumbo screen and a satellite dish that pulled in sports channels from all over. It wasn't a cop hangout, which made it even more perfect for Brady. He saw enough cops at work. Brady had found this place a year or so ago when he'd interviewed a subject. He came here when he needed the noise, a cold beer and no phones ringing, so he could think out the particulars of a case that was bugging him. He'd never shared Jimmy's with anyone. It was sort of like his hideout. Silly, really. No reason inviting Erin here should feel personal. It wasn't as if he owned the joint.