Deadly Heat

“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.