Virgin in Disguise Read online

  “Probably.” He held her in place with a look, palpable as a caress, that devoured every detail of her appearance. “But it will happen.”

  “No, it won’t.” She slapped the light switch, sending the room into welcome darkness. “We can’t.”

  The door closed behind her, blocking him from sight, but not memory. She went into the bathroom, needing to put another barrier, and more space, between them.

  The bathroom door latched with a soft click. She slid down the cool wood to sit on the cooler tile floor, hoping to chill the heat throbbing through her body.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. She’d gotten careless on so many levels she could hardly begin to sort out everything.

  It all started with Dex. She should never have taken him on as a client.

  Shouldn’t have started the case without a clear understanding of the timeline.

  Should never have taken Cabrini into custody without a legal warrant.

  The “shouldn’ts” piled up, each mistake on top of the last one, until Cabrini had landed on top of her on a bed.

  She’d let him kiss her, had kissed him back. Would have let it go further without a thought of the consequences.

  She was certifiable.

  She’d escaped intact, this time. She couldn’t afford to let there be a next time.

  Chapter 5

  The eerie call of a loon beckoned the morning sun. Mist hung over the lake, a living example of the smoky waters Minnesota had been named for. Angel sat on the edge of the dock, absorbing the fresh air, peace and beauty surrounding her.

  On one level, she loved the solitude. She appreciated the momentary escape from her life in the city. On another level, she was going crazy sitting here. She needed to be doing something productive, not sitting and waiting for Dex’s next call.

  She’d already heard about the possible link between some old arson cases, including the one resulting in her father’s death, and the new rash of fires. George McDonough, her contact on the squad, had noticed the similarities and alerted her.

  What she didn’t know was how Dex had come to connect Cabrini to the cases. If she could discover his client’s identity, she might be able to piece it all together.

  The questions had her itching to do some investigating of her own.

  She pushed to her feet and paced the length of the rough wood dock. Every spare minute she could squeeze out of her life, she devoted to her own investigation. Over the years, she’d built up a considerable file of dead ends, shadows and smoke. Even so, each new lead teased her with the possibility of solving the case. She needed to find the killer. For her mother and for herself.

  Another loon call broke over the lake. The haunting tones faded into the surrounding pine forest. It was still early, but she’d better check on her “guest,” see if he needed anything.

  Her feet dragged at the thought of facing him after last night. Their kiss still warmed her lips every time she allowed the memory to slip into her awareness.

  What had possessed her?

  Silly question. Cabrini and his fallen-altar-boy looks, smoldering eyes and body to die for, that’s what had possessed her.

  She played with the thought of instigating a repeat performance, but sent the idea running with a simple reminder.

  At the moment, they weren’t exactly on the same side. She had a job. He was the job. And the job did not involve swapping bodily fluids. No matter how curious she might be about the whole possibility.

  She slid the patio door shut behind her and padded upstairs. Her bare feet made little noise. If Cabrini was up to something, she’d catch him at it. She eased the bedroom door open and found him sitting on the neatly made bed, his perfect lotus position only slightly marred by the handcuffs still holding his right hand against the headboard.

  Meditation. Who’da thought it? She began to close the door.

  “Good morning.” His voice sounded relaxed and refreshed. His eyes were still closed and he looked relaxed and refreshed. But then he should—he’d had enough sleep in the last twenty-four hours.

  She, on the other hand, had had almost no sleep. She felt like leftover pasta—lumpy, sticky and stiff. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

  “Just finished.” He opened his eyes. “Holy Hanna, Elf. You look like hell.”

  “Gee, thanks. Just what a girl likes to hear first thing in the morning.”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Enough.” That conversation would get old fast. She changed the subject. “I’m going to take a shower. Would you like to make use of the bathroom first?”

  “Sure. Then I can get breakfast started while you’re in there.”

  “Nice offer, but I’m not buying it.”

  He shrugged. “It was worth a try, though, don’t you think?” He gave a lopsided grin, his white teeth a startling contrast to his black beard.

  “As if.” She donned Valley Girl to distract him while she unlocked the cuffs. “You are, like, so totally busted.”

  He reached for her and she took a quick step back. Memory of how easily he’d pulled her under him last night sent her pulse into overdrive.

  Judging by his physical response to her nearness, he remembered, too.

  No repeats.

  She motioned to the door with her gun and followed at a safe distance.

  “Did I pass the test?” Frank wedged himself back onto the breakfast nook bench.

  “Oh, yeah. Flying colors.” Elf managed to keep one eye on him as she pulled cereal, bowls and mugs from the cupboards.

  “Great.” He stretched his arms overhead, taking advantage of the temporary freedom she allowed him. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

  She shot a glare at him. The dishes hit the table with more force than necessary, giving him a very strong clue that she didn’t enjoy his captivity any more than he did. Or maybe she needed some caffeine to take the edge off.

  A stainless steel teakettle on the stove whistled. She cut off the shrill noise. “I don’t know how to make coffee, so if you want some, you’re out of luck. You’ll have to make do with tea.”

  “I’ll manage, thanks.”

  She started what looked to him like an elaborate chemistry experiment. Had to be more bother than making a pot of coffee, but he wasn’t about to point that out to her.

  The woman was a pile of contradictions.

  Today she barely resembled the Elf of yesterday. The body jewelry was gone. She wore an oversized, black polo-style shirt and baggy khaki pants. He did recognize the spiked belt she’d been wearing the first time he saw her. Was this just another costume? What would it take to get to know the real person?

  She settled on the chair across from him. “My cell phone still isn’t getting a signal. If we get to an area with a live zone or a working land line, how likely are we to actually reach your boss?”

  “Before Monday? I’d say fifty-fifty. We could always leave a message.”

  “Won’t do much good. She won’t be able to reach us.” Elf sighed, leaned back in her chair and tugged on her hair.

  “Did you get any sleep?”

  “I’ve had less.” The soft beep-beep-beep of a timer dragged her out of her chair and back to the teapot.

  She’d never make it through the weekend at this rate. Exhaustion slowed her reactions and dulled the light in her eyes.

  Considering the circumstances, he should be glad. His chances of escaping improved incrementally with each hour she went without rest.

  Rather than figuring out how to take advantage of that edge, his interest had shifted from escaping her to concern for her. She’d gotten under his skin.

  The realization jolted him back to a trail of thought he’d rather avoid. The instant physical reaction he had every time she came near was one thing. That he could handle. Attraction on any other level—that was another situation altogether.

  He didn’t know her nearly well enough to risk getting involved. He’d already been down that road, and
knew the route by heart. It hadn’t been a pleasant trip.

  Elf returned to the table with the cheery yellow teapot and a matching sugar bowl. Another circuit around the kitchen and she added milk, cereal and silverware to the selection.

  She finally slumped into the chair, filled her mug with tea and doctored it with milk and sugar. Her scowl dared him to comment and he wisely opted for silence until she finished her first mug and started on a second serving.

  “Okay, Cabrini, I’m starting to feel human, so out with it.”

  “What?”

  “Being the secret agent guy, I imagine you’ve got all sorts of advice for how I should run this little operation.”

  He nodded. “Since you asked. First off, I’d recommend a healthier diet.” He pushed at the bag of Golden Crisp cereal. “Or did you wind up with someone else’s grocery cart?”

  “I happen to like puffed wheat, and I don’t see any difference between my adding the sugar or the manufacturer preapplying it for me. Except I don’t have to worry about the proportions.”

  “Uh-huh. What about exercise?”

  “I hate it. But I try to do something physical most days. Swimming, kickboxing. Today—” she gave him a narrow-eyed look “—pounding on a heavy bag holds a certain appeal. Too bad I had to settle for a run.”

  “What about a social life?”

  She gaped at him. “What, so now you’re going to tell me that your agency is really just a facade for an escort service?”

  He chuckled. “I doubt that Kat McKay has ever been accused of that. Although it does raise interesting possibilities.”

  “What am I gonna do with you, Cabrini?” She shook her head.

  “I can think of several things, but we should probably get to know each other better before any of them is going to happen.”

  A soft pink tinted her cheeks. “What do you propose?”

  “Poker.”

  Milk dribbled from her spoon as she studied him for a moment. A wicked gleam came into her eyes. “You’re on.”

  They made quick work of breakfast. While he did the dishes, she brewed more tea and found a deck of cards. By mid-morning, they took their game out to the back deck overlooking the lake.

  When noon rolled around, he was surprised to learn he’d developed a taste for very strong tea, kid’s cereal and verbal sparring.

  He’d also discovered Elf had a competitive streak a mile wide.

  Dark clouds rolled in, turning the lake reflections a dull gray. The wind picked up, cooling the air. Ripples danced across the water. They moved their game back inside and took a break for a lunch of scrambled eggs and toast.

  The first drops of rain spattered against the window as Frank cleared away the dishes under Elf’s close supervision. He refilled their glasses with the strong iced tea and settled onto the banquette. “I think it’s time we upped the stakes.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “You’re familiar with that old favorite, strip poker?”

  “Forget it, Cabrini.” She reached for the deck of cards in his hand.

  He held them out of her reach. “Give me a minute here. You haven’t even heard what the variation is.”

  Thunder rumbled in the distance as the storm continued to build.

  “Fine, you get one minute. What’s this variation?”

  “Truth poker. Winner of the hand gets to ask the question, loser has to answer truthfully.”

  “What kinds of questions?”

  “Any topic is fair game. The better the hand, the tougher the question.”

  She considered it for a bit, never breaking eye contact with him. Finally she nodded. “Okay, you’re on.” She held out her hand and he passed the cards.

  He smothered his grin. There were a half dozen questions he was itching to ask her and this gave him the perfect opportunity. Her competitiveness would drive the stakes up and her integrity would keep her from lying.

  The game posed a calculated risk for him. He’d play fair and answer her questions. Trading information for information was standard operating procedure.

  There was the possibility that he’d have to reveal more than he’d normally do.

  Of course, as she’d pointed out the night before, this wasn’t normal.

  Elf shuffled the deck as he laid out the rules. “We’ll keep this simple, since there’s just the two of us. Deal seven cards, we each get one draw. Best five card hand wins. Winner asks the question.”

  He declined the cut and she dealt. The only sound, as they studied their cards, was the soft tapping of rain against the windows. He drew two cards, she drew one. They laid their hands faceup on the table.

  Her three of a kind beat his pair.

  “You said you were from the east coast. Where, exactly?”

  “Boston, the north end.”

  “How come you don’t sound like it?”

  “That’s two questions, but we’re just getting started, so I’ll give it to you.” He gathered the cards, shuffled and dealt. “Diction lessons.”

  She started to ask him why, then stopped. The cards were in play and she’d have to win another hand to satisfy her curiosity.

  The next hand fell to him. His pair of jacks beat her high card. “What is your full name?”

  “Angela Marie.”

  “Marie is your last name?”

  “That’s two questions.” A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

  “I did say ‘full name.’”

  “True. Okay, my full name is Angela Marie Donovan. Since I didn’t answer completely the first time, I’ll give you a bonus. My confirmation name is Catherine.”

  Donovan? Not a unique name in Minneapolis, by any means. However, factoring in that his client’s name was Donovan, a possible connection had to be considered. The game took on another level of importance.

  Elf gathered the cards, shuffled and dealt. The game fell into a rhythm with information flowing both ways.

  He was oldest of six children, the only boy.

  She was an only child.

  His parents were still alive and still married.

  She had been an A student in high school.

  He was two years older.

  She’d never had a pet.

  He’d spent a short period of time in the army, missed seeing any action.

  She’d worked her way through college, where she majored in criminal justice.

  When his enlistment was up, he joined the ATF for a while, becoming an arson expert before leaving for the private sector.

  She loved cars and had done most of the engine work on Rusty herself, with a little help from an old high school friend.

  Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning flashed in the darkening sky. The rain fell in sheets as the storm intensified. They ignored all of it, except to turn on lights.

  Frank laid down four of a kind, the best hand he’d had since they started playing. She tossed a pitiful pair of deuces on the card pile.

  He had to take advantage of the opportunity. He studied her, gauging her mood and wondering what her reaction might be.

  “What are you waiting for?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “Just working out what would be the best question.”

  “I suppose you feel obligated to make it deeply personal.”

  “Personal?” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Hadn’t thought of it quite like that, although it does open up a whole ’nother avenue of possibilities, doesn’t it?”

  “Just remember, Cabrini. It swings both ways.”

  “It’ll take quite a bit to top four of a kind.”

  “Doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

  He shrugged off the warning. “I’m willing to risk it. But I still need to figure out what the question will be. I could ask about your first boyfriend.” His eyes lingered on her lips. “Or first kiss. But those seem like a waste of a good hand. Maybe…” He let the unfinished sentence hang in the air between them.

  “What?”

&nbsp
; “First time you had sex?”

  Hot color flooded her cheeks.

  He was surprised to find himself seriously considering the question. Images of her naked, rumpled and sated, set his blood on a hot streak to his crotch.

  Dangerous territory. He drained his glass of iced tea. Very dangerous territory.

  If he wasn’t careful, he would lose track of what he was supposed to be doing—finding an arsonist and murderer. This woman interfered with that, on more than one level.

  The investigation took priority. He needed to get back on task. He needed to find out what, if any, connection Elf might have to his client.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Questions about sex should probably wait for a royal flush.”

  Her blush deepened and he almost laughed. A bounty hunter who didn’t swear and who blushed at the mention of sex.

  “Keep it up, Cabrini, and I’ll be getting the handcuffs.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Then how about you telling me who Dex is?”

  The slight hesitation of her hands as she gathered the cards hinted that he’d surprised her with that question. “You sure you want to waste four of a kind on that?”

  “Why not?”

  “You’ll be disappointed.” She shrugged but he didn’t buy her casual air. She was stalling.

  “My hand to waste.”

  “Okay, then.” She started dealing the next hand. “Dex is an old family friend. He was my father’s partner and has been something of a surrogate father to me.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I told you you’d be disappointed.” She wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

  “He’s not your client?”

  She shook her head and picked up her cards. “Uh-uh, Cabrini. One question per hand—those were your rules.”

  They alternated low winning hands for the next few rounds. By tacit agreement, they stuck with questions about favorite colors, foods and the like.

  Another hand fell to him. The full house, queens over tens, was good enough to bump the questions back up a notch. Asking Dex’s full name would reveal too much. He could try for her father’s line of business. Or…