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  But he was very grateful he wasn’t going to have to find out how.

  Even so, Kari had managed to awaken a hunger in him that hadn’t reared its head in so long that he couldn’t remember it—the last time he’d actually been with a woman. But Esteban forced himself to rein in his eagerness. He made himself go slowly so that they could both savor the moment, rather than making love as if they were swirling about on the outer funnel of a twister, forced to blast through it before they were both unceremoniously thrown to the ground. That way wouldn’t have been memorable, only fast.

  He wanted it to be memorable.

  And perforce Esteban had no intentions of taking her right here, by the front door, even though his body was more than ready to do just that.

  Instead, his mouth still sealed to hers, his desire for her so red-hot it was almost sizzling, he began to move backward, forcing her to match him step for step, going in small, measured steps that would eventually lead them into his bedroom.

  And while the unorthodox two-step was going on, he was undressing her, coaxing the silvery straps off her slender shoulders, tugging the shimmery material down her upper torso.

  When the top portion of her dress had dipped to her waist, she felt Esteban’s mouth curving against hers. He was smiling, she realized incredulously.

  “What?” she breathed, wanting to know what could have made him respond this way. Was he smiling? Or was he actually laughing at her?

  She didn’t want to believe the latter.

  “Just as I thought,” she heard him murmur as his palms cupped her breasts. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

  Her eyes met his and he saw a positive wickedness come into the blue orbits. Her laugh was low and sultry and instantly wove itself underneath his skin, tantalizing him.

  “That’s not all I’m not wearing,” she whispered just before her lips returned to his.

  She’d fallen behind in the war on clothes and worked now to make up for it, pulling his jacket off his wide shoulders, then going on to attack his jeans, unbuckling, unbuttoning and pushing the denim down his taut hips and off his thighs.

  She heard him catch his breath, felt his anticipation as it throbbed through his loins.

  Her pulse accelerated as she felt her own anticipation heightening.

  They’d made their way into the middle of the living room, a trail of his clothing marking the path. He had yet to explore the meaning behind her statement about more missing articles of clothing.

  Steeling himself, holding tightly on to his last shred of control, Esteban pulled her dress farther down her torso, easing the fabric along her hips to discover that the thong he expected to see on her was nowhere to be found.

  “Commando,” he murmured, referring to her lack of underwear.

  “Seemed somehow appropriate,” she said, her breath hot along his skin, pushing him to the brink and then over.

  Sweeping her up into his arms, his mouth sealed to hers again, he carried Kari to his bedroom.

  Gently depositing her on his rumpled gray comforter, he slid his body down next to hers, never fully breaking their contact or the rhythm they had achieved.

  His very blood heating within him, Esteban kissed her over and over again, growing more and more excited with each and every pass.

  He caressed her body, his touch gentle, his fingers spread out as if he were committing all parts of her to memory as quickly as he could. He could almost feel the flames of desire licking his body as he pressed it closer to hers.

  Wanting to absorb her very essence, to almost devour her, he kissed her face, her eyes, her throat, her shoulders. Sampling, teasing, arousing, he worked his way down along her breasts, her waist, her navel.

  His pulse racing, Esteban paused for a moment to regain control over himself. Inadvertently, he saw how her stomach muscles quivered in response to the warmth of his breath as well as to the touch of his tongue as he lightly stroked her with it.

  He saw desire flare in her eyes as she arched into him and reached for him, wanting to hold him closer to her, wanting to all but crawl inside the sensations he had stirred within her.

  They were within the center of the tornado and he held off the final moments for as long as he could.

  Longer, he had the impression, than Kari apparently wanted to withstand.

  Grabbing him by the shoulders, she choked out a single word, “Now,” and it sounded for all the world like an order.

  He would have laughed if he hadn’t wanted her so much that it filled every single tiny available space within him.

  So, rather than try to muster enough breath to offer a flippant retort—or any retort at all—he drew himself up slowly along the length of her body, allowing her to realize just how completely he wanted her.

  His body fully positioned over hers, Esteban saw that her eyes were shut.

  “Look at me,” he commanded, saying the words so softly, she didn’t seem to hear him at first. Her eyes remained closed, as if she was immersed in a fantasy world all her own.

  “Look at me,” he repeated, his voice a little firmer, the words a little louder.

  This time, he saw her eyes flutter open with a start, as if she expected something to bring about a crashing end to what they were experiencing together.

  “Why?” she asked, her voice low and husky—and surprisingly teasing. “So I can identify you in the lineup later?”

  Was she ever not flippant? he found himself wondering. The look in her eyes didn’t belong to the woman who had just uttered that quip, and yet, when Kari spoke, it was as if there was a wall between them. A small one, granted, but it was there nonetheless.

  Separating them.

  You do the same thing with your silence, a voice inside his head pointed out.

  The hell with it, he thought. Now was not the time to wage internal debates or search for the meaning behind gestures or deeds. Now was the time to relish what was right here before him.

  Right here before them.

  “My eyes are open,” she prompted. “Why does it matter to you if they are or not?”

  He didn’t answer her.

  Not verbally.

  Instead, gathering her closer in his arms, Esteban drove himself into her, wanting, just for a moment, to lose his sense of self and create something entirely different. Wanting to create, however temporarily, a union.

  He took pleasure in the ache that was being released, in the feeling of fulfillment springing up all around him. He didn’t want to let those sensations go.

  He’d made love with women before, so many that he’d lost count. He’d made love to more beautiful women, even more accommodating women.

  But he’d never wanted to make love with a woman as much as he did right at this moment. With this woman.

  The ride they went on was brief in the ultimate scheme of things, but while it existed, it raised them up to the very top of the world, allowing them to look down on all that was spread out before them.

  The resulting euphoria burst out and encompassed everything, seeping into all corners of life. It seemed to stay suspended in midair for a long, endless moment.

  And then, just as with all other things, it began to recede. To shrink into itself and retreat until all traces of it ever having existed faded quietly away.

  He lay beside her, unable to examine his thoughts or to assess the myriad of feelings that were bumping up against one another, leaving him in a dazed stupor. The condition was not without its appeal.

  Rather than pull away or withdraw into himself, Esteban realized that he had slipped his arm around her and had actually pulled her to him, acting like a longtime lover instead of a stranger who had paused to dally but should have already begun to move along on his way to the rest of his life.

  He didn’t want to move along to t
he rest of his life. He liked it where he was and wanted to remain a little longer. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

  “I think I could grow to like Cavanaugh weddings,” he confessed as he stared up at the ceiling.

  He felt her quiver slightly beside him. He thought at first that she was cold, but then he realized that she was trying to contain her laughter. Unsuccessful, she finally allowed the sound to burst out as she gave full vent to it, laughing so hard that her very sides shook and tears came to her eyes.

  Raising up on her elbow, Kari looked down at the man who had completely rocked her world. Doing her best to catch her breath, she struggled to form words.

  It took another minute before she could finally tell him, “I’ll be sure to tell Uncle Andrew that you said that.”

  Her eyes were bright with laughter, and the tips of her hair teased his chest in sync with her laughter. It aroused him all over again—something he hadn’t believed was possible, at least not so soon. It had certainly never happened to him before. Not like this, not this strong.

  Reaching up for her face, he threaded his fingers through her hair, cupped the back of her head and said, “Later. Tell him later,” just before he brought her face back down to his level and kissed her again.

  She more than willingly agreed, silently saying yes in her head because her lips were otherwise occupied at the moment.

  Chapter 15

  The sound crept into her consciousness slowly, growing identifiable by degrees.

  Initially, all Kari was aware of was the passion that was burning yet another fiery path through her, just as deep, just as intense, as the first one. All she wanted, all she could focus on, was attaining that incredible, ultimate high that they had generated together earlier. The pursuit of that caused her to block out everything else in her surroundings.

  Which was why the sound of the cell phones, each with its own unique ring, didn’t register with her at first. Outside noises, a passing car racing by the complex, all these were distractions she was actively keeping at arm’s length.

  All she wanted was to keep making glorious, teeth-jarring love with Esteban.

  But the ringing continued, insistent, demanding, scratching its way through the barriers she’d set up. By the fourth time around, Kari recognized it for what it was. Reality, knocking the foundations out from underneath paradise.

  With a sigh, she lifted her head, drawing her lips away from his, and looked into Esteban’s blue eyes. She saw regret there, mingling with resignation. It mirrored her own.

  “It’s not my imagination, is it?” she asked with a sigh. “You hear it, too.”

  Shifting her body to the side so that it no longer covered his, Esteban raised himself up on his elbow and glanced at the floor from his vantage point. He didn’t see his cell phone.

  “Sounds like our phones are ringing,” he confirmed, although, for the life of him, he didn’t know where either device was currently located.

  Just loud enough to be heard, both ringtones sounded too faint to be in the same room with them.

  Having no choice, Esteban got up. Kari shifted and turned so that she was facing the bedroom doorway and watched the man who had just made incredible love to her leave the room. She knew he was going to look for the cell phones. Despite the possible gravity of the situation—she could only think of one reason why both phones were ringing at the same time—she couldn’t help allowing her mind to wander for a moment, lost in utter admiration.

  Any way you looked at it, the man had an absolutely gorgeous body.

  “Mine’s in my purse,” she called out, remaining where she was. “By the front door.”

  Her purse had been the first thing she’d dropped the second she was inside his apartment. Any remaining barriers had been completely incinerated at that moment.

  Within a few seconds, Esteban was walking back into the room, just as magnificently uninhibited as when he had gone out.

  He held her purse with its ringing phone out to her even as he was answering his own.

  “Fernandez,” he said, then listened to the voice on the other end of the persistent call.

  Sitting up on the bed, Kari had taken her own phone out and announced to her caller, “Cavelli-Cavanaugh.” The moment she finished saying her full name, the voice on the other end of her phone began talking. “Okay...be right there,” she promised.

  She ended her call at the same time that Esteban finished his. She could tell by his expression that the calls had been identical, apprising them that a fourth body had been found.

  So much for hopes that the serial killer was finished.

  She sighed, shaking her head. “Talk about bad timing.”

  “You talking about us or the call?” Esteban asked her, wondering if she was having regrets about hooking up with him. He was willing to take the blame if she was, even though he hadn’t pressed it. But he was the scoundrel and she was the princess in this setting, so the blame naturally fell to him.

  Kari thought of being facetious and saying, “Both,” but then decided, for once in her life, to play it straight. To stop constructing protective walls around the most vulnerable part of her heart. So she told him the truth. That she was sorry they’d been interrupted. “I was talking about just the call.”

  He looked at her for a second, and she thought he was going to say something. But if he was, he apparently changed his mind. Instead of talking, he caught her by her shoulders again and kissed her.

  The contact was fast and hard, and maybe she was wrong, but she could have sworn there was a promise there. A promise that tonight wasn’t isolated. That there would be another time for them.

  Just not now.

  Collecting herself, she squared her shoulders and declared, “Okay, let’s get to it. We’ve got a body waiting for us.”

  He rolled his eyes at her as he threw on a pair of jeans and put on another pullover. “I don’t think it’s going anyplace.”

  Question is, she thought as she slipped her dress back on, are we?

  * * *

  “Wow, you really didn’t have to dress up for me,” the M.E. said, whistling when he looked up and saw Kari heading toward him. He was in the latest victim’s living room, examining a body that was still faintly warm.

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t,” she said. “My father got married today,” she told him, then amended, “I mean yesterday.”

  “Right, sorry I missed that,” the medical examiner said. “But someone had to stay on duty and hold down the fort.” His gaze swept over her slowly, scrutinizing her outfit. “Looks like it must have been some party,” he surmised.

  Something stirred within Esteban, a protective instinct that rose to the surface in light of the look of discomfort on Kari’s face.

  “Never mind that,” he snapped. “What can you tell us about the body?”

  The M.E. looked surprised to hear Kari’s partner say anything at all. “He’s dead.”

  “Besides the obvious,” Kari pressed impatiently.

  “That Hal Rockwell was a damn fine judge,” a deep, solemn voice said behind her.

  Kari turned around to see who was talking. The voice had sounded familiar, but she’d dismissed her first impression because she knew she had to be mistaken.

  Except that she wasn’t.

  “Blake?” she asked uncertainly, looking at the tall, dark-haired man walking toward her. Blake Kincannon was a judge, one of the two who had married into the Cavanaugh family. Blake was married to Greer, another one of the Chief of D’s nieces. As far as major crimes went, this one had just taken a quantum leap.

  The next moment, she saw Greer coming to join her husband. Dressed in jeans and a light blue windbreaker, the detective filled them in on what she’d learned from talking to the victim’s live-in housekeeper, Amanda Foster.
Returning from visiting her sister, it was Amanda who had discovered the judge’s body and called the police.

  Greer and Blake had attended the wedding earlier, although the couple had left before she and Esteban had. Kari nodded at them now, and if the woman noticed that she was still wearing her dress from the reception, Greer tactfully gave no indication of it.

  “A few dozen more Cavanaughs and we can recreate Uncle Sean’s wedding,” Greer commented dryly.

  “No disrespect intended, but what are you doing here?” Kari asked the couple. “Does the Chief think we need reinforcements?” If so, she could understand why Greer was here, but why send the judge, as well?

  “After the housekeeper found him, she was so panic-stricken that she called Blake before she even called the police,” Greer told her.

  “Hal and I are old friends,” Blake explained, picking up the narrative. There was a heaviness in his voice that was impossible to miss. “When I first sat on the bench, Hal was my mentor. He went out of his way to take me under his wing, teach me everything he knew. This shouldn’t have happened to him,” he said angrily, looking back at the body.

  “Could this have been the work of someone he sent to prison?” Kari asked.

  “There’s always that chance,” Blake admitted.

  Suddenly, he locked eyes with Greer and they exchanged knowing looks. Although the couple was blissfully happy now, their romance had gotten off to a perilous start. Kari recalled how it was a death threat that had brought Greer into Blake’s life in the first place. Fortunately, all that ugly business was behind them now.

  Blake cleared his throat and then continued. “In our profession, we all live with the possibility of vengeance, but I can tell you that Hal Rockwell was the most honest, the most decent judge I ever had the pleasure to work with. Once they’d served their time and got out, he helped a lot of the folks he’d sentenced to prison find work and rebuild their lives, as long as they demonstrated a willingness to turn over a new leaf.”