“As can be.”
“I see.” He looked around the room. “Just what kind of island is this?”
“Fantasy.”
She set the drink and book down and reached her arms out to him. Rook got on his
knees, hovering over her, and they kissed softly. He lowered himself to her and she
drew him close, feeling his weight drape over her skin, the warmth of their bodies
melting them into each other, even through his clothes. Soon the heat of their
connection filled them with an urgency that grew into a powerful need. They teased
and touched each other, and they joined each other deeply. The release from
responsibility, the closeness of their bodies, and the hunger each brought to that
moment cast them aswirl, into the heart-pounding, frenzied dimension created by
their passion.
Later, enfolded in a lazy tangle of limbs in her bed, they dozed, skin to soul.
Nikki’s fingers caressed his two-day beard, and her breast rose and fell in rhythm
with his placid breathing. Her cell phone double-pulsed and she dutifully checked
the text, then put the phone back on the nightstand.
Without opening his eyes, Rook said, “Please, not another murder.”
“Worse. Yardley Bell wants to have lunch tomorrow.”
He blinked open. “You going to go?”
“I don’t need a new best friend.”
“You should go.”
“I don’t like her.”
“You don’t know her.”
“I know all I want,” said Heat. “And I know what I like.”
“So do I.”
“Show me.”
And he did.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This is a very big occasion for your humble author. Oh, right, I finished this book
today, sure, but I’m talking about something bigger. I am talking about today being
one of only two days a year when we jaded New Yorkers stop in our tracks and marvel
at the astronomical phenomenon known as Manhattanhenge! What. Am I the only geek
here who knows that at precisely 8:15 this evening the setting sun will perfectly
align itself with the grid layout of Manhattan’s streets and beam celestial eye
candy down every single east-west street like a laser beam? Sweet! Take that,
Stonehenge!
You will excuse me if I have one eye on my loft’s west-facing window as I also
acknowledge how the stars also miraculously aligned to make this novel happen. And
the brightest in that firmament is a heavenly body known as Kate Beckett, who fills
my heart with motivation, encouragement, and the awesome power of her elegant life
example. Thanks also to the rest of the crew at the 12th Precinct. Javier Esposito
and Kevin Ryan have generously made me a training partner, teammate, and, I hope,
friend. Captain Victoria Gates sets a high bar—but somehow lets me sneak in under
it. Don’t tell her, but I believe she secretly likes me.
Down at the Office of Chief Medical Examiner, Dr. Lanie Parish reels me in when I
get my head too far in the clouds. I appreciate her tolerance as much as her
expertise.
My mother Martha keeps me mindful that every sunrise is a cause for celebration,
even though she never sees them thanks to that sleep mask she got from Kitty
Carlisle on some 1950s game show. My collegiate daughter Alexis has found healthy
independence, but I am ever grateful she chooses to stay in my orbit.
Earthbound as I am, I look up in awe at the empyrean gods and goddesses that are
true stars above. I speak of course of the amazing Nathan, Stana, Seamus, Jon,
Molly, Susan, Tamala, and Penny.
The folks in the Clinton Building at Raleigh Studios continue to conjure astral
magic. They know what a journey measured in light years means and have my deep
respect.
Terri Edda Miller gleams like Aurora Borealis. Radiant and warm, she holds my heart
in her hands. As it always shall be.