“I know. Except when we…” She let it trail off and felt the heat come to
her face. Then the speed of his pulse rose and thrummed against her ear where it
rested against the soft of his neck. They turned to face each other without a sign,
just the knowing, and kissed. It was a tender one, at first. He tasted her
vulnerability, and she his gentle care. But soon, as they shared breath and space,
passion filled her. She pushed hard against him. Rook arched toward her, and she
clasped both hands on his backside and pulled him closer. Then she traced her
fingertips to his lap and felt her palm fill with him. His hand found her and she
moaned, then fell back under his body to let his weight find all of her there for
him.
Later, after they’d dozed in each other’s arms, he left the room, giving her a
choice view of his magnificent ass. He returned with two flutes of Cristal, which
they sat up and sipped. The bubbles were still tight and the wine rolled clean on
her tongue.
They nestled against each other, and Rook said, “I’ve been thinking what hell all
this has been for you for ten years.”
“Ten-plus,” she said.
“Know what I can’t wait for? I’m longing for the day when this whole Tyler Wynn
case is closed and I can take you away someplace where just the two of us can sit
and veg. You know, sleep, make love, sleep, make love… Get my theme?”
“It’s a good theme, Rook.”
“The best. Only to be interrupted by kicking back on tropical sand with a rum drink
in one hand and a nice Janet Evanovich in the other.”
“Let’s get back to the make love part.”
“Oh, count on that.”
“I mean right now,” she said. And placed their champagne glasses on the
nightstand.
Distant thunder awoke Nikki. She made a curtain check and saw by the city lights
that the streets and rooftops in Gramercy Park were dry. The low cloud ceiling
pinked up with a flash, probably from a bolt way out east over the Island.
On the couch, cross-legged in her robe, with her laptop cradled on her thighs, Nikki
clicked on FirstPress.com, and her breath caught when she saw her own face staring
back at her under the title:
BRINGING HEAT.
The shot was a candid, taken by a photojournalist when she emerged from the precinct
after her ordeal in the subway the night she arrested Petar. Her face showed all the
fatigue and hardness and gravity she’d borne. Heat never loved pictures of herself,
but this was, at least, easier to look at than the posed magazine cover shot they
had forced her to take for Rook’s first article.
She scanned the piece, not to read it—she had already done that days before—but to
absorb the fact of its reality. Some genies come from rubbing lamps, others from
uncorking complimentary Cristal. This was out there now, and she only hoped it
wouldn’t kill her case.
Nikki Heat braced herself for the next round of notoriety. And the mild irritation
that Rook had published some little bits of her investigative jargon, like “looking
for the odd sock” and visiting a crime scene “with beginner’s eyes.” If that was
the worst that came from it, she could deal.
The next morning, nursing a brain that had spun its wheels all night, Nikki stopped
at her neighborhood Starbucks on her walk to the subway. She never used to bother
with movie ticket–priced drinks. Blame Rook. He’d gotten her in the habit. To the
point that when he donated an espresso machine to the squad room, she taught herself
how to pull a perfect twenty-five-second shot.
When she ordered her usual, she got that unexplainable pleasure from hearing
“Grande skim latte, two pumps, sugar-free vanilla for Nikki” called out and then
echoed back over the jet whoosh of the milk steamer. It’s the tiny rituals that let
you know God’s in his heaven and all is right with the world.
She made a scan of the room and caught a twentysomething guy in a sincere suit
staring at her. His gaze darted back to his iPad then back to her. Then he smiled
and hoisted his macchiato in a toast. And so it begins, she thought.
The barista called out, “Grande skim latte for Nikki,” but when she moved down the
counter to get it, Sincere Suit blocked her, holding up his iPad with her face
filling it. “Detective Heat, you are awesome.” He smiled and his cheeks dimpled.
“Ah, well, thank you.” She took a half step, but the beaming fanboy backed up,
staying with her.