Part 9 (1/2)

Tomorrow Ric would not only make sure Tux wasn't one of Shelby's suspects, but he'd do his own investigation into the mindset of his right-hand vamp.

Chapter Six.

Shelby was on her fourth cup of coffee, and it wasn't even nine o'clock yet.

It seemed like her coffee consumption rose in direct proportion to her ever-diminis.h.i.+ng hours of sleep. Yesterday had been another long day. It was close to midnight when she had finally been able to go home, and yet falling asleep hadn't been easy. For one thing, she wasn't used to conducting three-hour-long investigations in high heels. By the time she had kicked off the offending footwear, she had at least two blisters to vie with aching leg muscles for the t.i.tle of sorest body part.

But thoughts of Ric De Chaux and the way he had kissed her were better than the most powerful drug to make her forget about her aches and pains. The dinner date had been more mild flirting than anything else, and she really hadn't found out a whole lot more about the man, but it didn't matter. When she was with him, his presence seemed to drown everything else out. It wasn't just his accented voice that vibrated and purred like some animal, or even his extraordinary looks, but an aura that seemed to constantly press against her while at the same time pus.h.i.+ng the rest of the world out. It was an energy, an unseen force, that surrounded her and penetrated her, like a chill breeze that sends s.h.i.+vers deep. This energy made her hot, not cold, but sank just as deep, into her mind as well as her body.

He was a paradox to her, seeming both new and old to the world, at once a babe and an elder, like a very old soul reincarnated in a fresh, young body. On one hand he was all shyness and innocence, hiding his youth and good looks behind dark gla.s.ses, but at other times he was as seasoned as any sage, no secret unknown, no question unanswerable. He was in control, yet seemed always only a heartbeat away from an unleashed pa.s.sion.

What he did to her body was no puzzle at all. She wanted him. Period. Maybe it was the exotic amber eyes and thick, tawny hair, or maybe it was the long, lean body that exuded such power and grace. Perhaps it was just the strange feeling she got when he looked at her, or the way she felt when he touched her that wasn't strange at all, but made her feel as though she had known him for years instead of days.

This morning had been no different. Her mind held the memory of his words, and her lips held the imprint of his kiss, as if they had just been together but a moment before. She gulped down more of her coffee, hoping the added caffeine would put a stop to her uncharacteristic fantasizing.

And a fantasy was all it could be. She had made a mistake in letting his good-night kiss last night get out of hand. She didn't dare allow it to happen again. Besides, this daydreaming wasn't like her, and right now she didn't have time for it, pleasant though it was.

All the added caffeine did was make her lightheaded. Just in time for Judson Tuxbridge's interview. Great. When he walked in five minutes later, she shook her head to clear it and took a slow, cleansing breath. She invited him into her office, but left the door open. She wasn't sure if it was his six-foot frame or handsome features surrounded by waves of s.h.i.+ny, black hair, but his presence seemed to fill a room in exactly the same way that Ric's did.

Maybe it was her. Maybe her unusual feelings were trumpeting the initiation of a new phase in her life as she approached the big three-oh. The big three-oh without a man in my life.

When Jud left a half hour later, Shelby exited her office and watched him glide past the desks on his way to the hall. Every female clerk in the room-young and old, married and single-turned her head to follow his progress. Shelby could almost hear the sounds of feminine swooning in the dead silence of the moment.

No, it wasn't her. There was definitely something about Judson Tuxbridge.

The interview, with its charged atmosphere, had been uncomfortable. It also had been fruitless as far as the investigation went. She had asked him where he had been last evening, and when she did, it was as if the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. The simple act of breathing became difficult, and her dizziness increased.

”Are you going to read me my rights, Sheriff?” Jud had asked softly.

”No. You're not in custody, Mr. Tuxbridge.”

His green eyes glittered at her. ”But I'm a suspect for something that happened last night?”

She gave him one of her very practiced cop smiles. ”Lucius Moravich was attacked. It could have been serious, but the subject was apparently scared off. You match the description Lucius gave.”

Jud smiled back at her, but his cat-green gaze drifted over her with a look that was at the same time detached and watchful-in short, a good imitation of what she called the ”cop look.” She didn't like it directed at her.

”Can't be much of a match, Sheriff, or you'd arrest me. But then it wouldn't be a match, because I didn't do it.”

Jud had stated he had been home all evening, but he hadn't had any visitors who could corroborate his story. Still, he was right- she had no proof. Digger's description had been too general.

The day went downhill from there. During the day s.h.i.+ft, Marc Montoya gave her long, sideways glances that were none too friendly. Was he still upset over their conversation of the day before and her reluctance to follow his advice concerning Ric? When the early s.h.i.+ft deputies came on duty at four in the afternoon, Shelby imagined that every whisper and laugh shared among the boys was at her expense. Maybe it was the gossip about her and Ric that made her paranoid. Maybe it was the memories of Milwaukee. Whatever the reason, she was used to being the target of conversation at work. It came with the territory of being a high-ranking female in a workplace full of men, but today it bothered her more than usual.

The media and district commissioners were still keeping the pressure on, citizens like Dan Vickers were complaining about a lack of protection, and other citizens like Jud Tuxbridge were taking offense at being questioned. When Jason Rody and Marc Montoya sent furtive glances her way, she could almost guess their thoughts. It was as if they thought it was okay to have a female sheriff as long as nothing happened in Cristallia County, but now that there was a major crime to be solved, they wished for a man who could take charge.

I'm just tired, she thought. She couldn't wait for the day to end, and the only thing that bolstered her during her final few hours of work was the thought that she had the next two days off. That and the hope that Ric would call.

Shelby really needed someone to be in her corner right about now, and it seemed like the only one who was willing to support her was a man she hadn't even known five days ago. When her phone rang just before five o'clock, it was one call she was happy to take. Ric asked about the case before anything else, though, and she was vaguely disappointed, answering him with a brevity that bordered on curtness.

”What's wrong, Shelby?”

”Nothing. I'm fine,” she replied automatically. No, you're not fine. ”No, I'm just ... I don't know ... tired, frustrated, angry...”

”Let me pick you up after you get off duty. You can tell me everything that's happened.”

His words were like buoys that lifted her shoulders and her spirits. ”Pick me up at my house at six. Casual, though, this time. My feet are still killing me from last night.”

”You got it. See you then.”

Shelby truly loved her job, but she was never so glad to leave the county building as she was this day. She took a quick shower at home and dressed in a white tank top that had black and red beads along the neckline, then added her gold chain with the ruby teardrop pendant as a finis.h.i.+ng touch. The white showed off a modest tan that she wished were darker, and the body-hugging material showed off other a.s.sets that she also wished were more ample. She seldom dressed for men, but she couldn't help hoping that Ric would like what he saw in spite of her slenderness.

Her doorbell rang promptly at six, and she silently thanked G.o.d for someone she could count on to be true to his word. When she opened the door, she decided she wouldn't need dinner tonight. Ric looked good enough to eat. He wore jeans, boots, and a b.u.t.ter-colored mesh knit s.h.i.+rt that conformed to his torso like a latex glove on a hand. The mesh weave was loose enough for her to be able to tell he wasn't wearing anything underneath, and she felt a wave of heat wash over her at the image her mind conjured at the thought of his bare chest.

When she got around to raising her eyes to his face, she saw he was wearing different gla.s.ses than before. These were darker, true sungla.s.ses, not the self-darkening pair he had previously worn. She fervently hoped that he was wearing his contacts, because she had every intention of getting him to lose the gla.s.ses at some point in the evening. His hair was tied back, as usual, but she wasn't worried. That, too, could be easily remedied.

”I've got the bike. I hope you don't mind.”

She looked past him to the s.h.i.+ny red cycle perched at the top of the driveway. ”It doesn't look big enough to hold two.”

”It's big enough. Besides, it's been almost two years since I lost a pa.s.senger.”

She stared at him.

One corner of his mouth curled. ”It's a joke, Shelby. I've been riding for years. I wouldn't let anything happen to you.”

Doc French telling jokes. Her life was taking more and more left turns by the moment. She walked with Ric to the bike and looked dubiously at the machine with its modest leather seat. It didn't look large enough to hold two people, and she didn't relish bouncing along on the luggage rack that was mounted over the flared rear fender.

Ric straddled the cycle and started it. ”Trust me,” he said, turning his head toward her. The rumble of the engine was nothing compared to the purr of his voice. ”Get on.”

She swung her leg over the bike, and her feet found the pa.s.senger foot pegs. Almost as quickly her hands found their way around his waist, and when Ric reached the road and opened the throttle, her grip tightened automatically. He didn't push the bike above forty-five miles per hour, but the ride was exhilarating nonetheless. The balmy air whipped at her, stinging her skin and whipping her hair across her eyes, but more powerful than the rush of air was the feel of Ric's hard body against hers, as hot as the wind.

She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to the thick ma.s.s of his hair held in place at the back of his neck. His hair felt cool and smooth against her skin. Everything else felt wonderfully warm.

In ten minutes that pa.s.sed much too quickly, they were at the lakefront. There were a few families and a number of kids, but the small park was by no means crowded. Shelby and Ric sat on a bench at the edge of the sandy beach. The evening sun glimmered off the gently rolling waves of Lake Michigan, sending gold sparks to dance on the crests.

Ric laid his arm along the top of the bench just behind her shoulders. ”So tell me what happened today to make you so upset.”

As glad as Shelby was to have someone to talk to, and as close as she had become to Ric in the past few days, it was still hard to open up. It was a long time habit to keep her feelings to herself. Revealing too much made her feel vulnerable, and vulnerability was the one feeling she hated as much as losing control.

She took a deep breath. ”It's just the pressures of the job. And this homicide. Small towns aren't used to this kind of thing happening. The public doesn't understand the work involved. All they know is TV, where all it takes is an hour to solve a case.

Cops are supposed to be miracle workers.”

”And doctors.”