Dying for a Dance (16 page)

“Sounds like you've got the hots for the big boy.” He smirked.

I rolled my eyes but Stan wasn't totally wrong. I did have the hots for a big boy, but it wasn't Boris. I peeked at my watch. In a few hours, my favorite big guy would be knocking on my front door and I hoped this time he'd be in a cuddly mood.

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TWENTY-SEVEN

* * * *

With the detective paying a house call that could be personal as well as professional, my nerves were stretched thinner than the vermicelli I served the kids for dinner.

“Mommy, there are only four days left until Christmas,” announced Ben as he sat at the table shuffling his soggy peas around on his plate. I kept a watchful eye on those peas since our kitten had an affinity for greens. More than one string bean or pea had been slipped under the table to our weird vegetarian cat, with disastrous consequences to my beige carpet.

“Everything is under control, honey.”

“You've been working so hard. Do you need me to help with any chores?” He smiled at me, his freckled face and missing two front teeth aimed straight at my heart.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Ben.” Jenna stood up and ruffled her brother's shaggy mane. “We're on a strict budget so don't expect Mom to get you everything on your list. And if you don't treat me nicer, Santa will leave a lump of coal in your stocking.”

“You're a meanie,” Ben cried, knocking over his plate and scattering a multitude of miniature green spheres across the tile floor.

“And you're a munchkin,” proclaimed Jenna. “A very messy munchkin. That's okay, Mom, I'll pick them up.”

The doorbell chose that auspicious moment to ring. Oh well, the detective wasn't dating me for my culinary ability or domestic skills. On second thought, he wasn't dating me at all.

I ran to the front door, leaving my children to deal with the great pea debacle. A blast of frigid air greeted me, as did Detective Tom Hunter. He wore his soft chestnut crushed leather bomber jacket, the one that made him look like a Top Gun pilot.

I'm such a sucker for men in leather.

He entered the foyer and total silence enveloped the house. Not even the muted strains of two skirmishing siblings pierced the quiet. They had better not be eavesdropping.

“Um, hi, Tom. Can I get you something to drink? Glass of wine?”

Plateful of peas
?

He shook his head then paused. “Well, I am heading straight home after this. Maybe a glass of wine to warm me up. It's cold enough to snow tonight.”

If Tom wanted to be warmed up, I would be more than happy to personally accommodate him. But I'd bring out the wine for starters.

“Have a seat in the family room and I'll be right back.”

My meager wine collection was stored in one of my kitchen cabinets. Liz had recently given me an award-winning bottle of Grenache from the David Girard winery in Coloma. El Dorado County was dotted with successful wineries that year after year put out gold medal winners. Our beautiful hills not only produce solid gold nuggets, but also liquid gold, in the form of fine wines.

The bottle rested next to a super secret stash of dark chocolate truffles, a gift from a co-worker. They were so super secret that even I'd forgotten they were hidden there. The chocolate goodies would be the perfect accompaniment to the ruby red wine.

I walked into the family room with a tray bearing the truffles in a crystal bowl plus two glasses of the aromatic wine. Much to my surprise, both kids were engaged in conversation with the detective.

“Hey Mom, did you know Kristy gets to go to Tahoe for Christmas?” Ben's lower lip stuck out an inch as he aimed a perfected pout in my direction. “They're gonna snowboard and sled and snowmobile. How come we never get to do cool stuff like that?”

Ben punched Jenna in the arm. “Get it? Cool like snow.” He rolled on the floor laughing at his second grade wit.

“Tahoe for Christmas. That's nice,” I remarked.

“My folks rented a place for two weeks. Technically I was supposed to have those weeks off, assuming there were no murder investigations...” Tom's voice trailed off as he noticed Ben's ears perk up at the word “murder.”

“Did you know my mom tripped over a body at the dance studio?” Ben asked the detective.

Tom and I exchanged glances. I was such a bad role model for my children.

“Ben, it's time for bed. Jenna, please make sure he brushes his teeth.”

The kids said goodnight to the detective then disappeared upstairs. I placed the tray on my glass-topped coffee table then went over to the CD player. Soon the soothing sounds of Michael Buble singing big band oldies filled the room. It almost made me want to break into a foxtrot.

Almost.

I joined Tom on my comfy but outdated flowered sofa, picked up my wineglass and took a sip. Yummy. The blend of raspberry and spices in the Grenache was perfect for a romantic winter evening.

Tom rested his head against the back of the sofa. He stretched his long legs, encased in beige cords, under the table. “Ahhh, this is the first chance I've had to relax all day.” He sipped his wine, set the glass on a coaster and turned to me. “Any chance I can lure you down to my end of the couch?”

How easy did he think I was?

In less than two seconds, I was cuddled against Tom's chest, my head resting against his rock hard pecs like I belonged there. His fingers stroked the fine strands of my hair. For a big man, he was amazingly gentle. His tender touch moved down my body and any annoyance I had felt toward him melted away as if those lost weeks had never occurred.

“I've missed you,” he said, his breath warm against my ear. My insides felt like one of those chocolate molten lava cakes. Steamy, sweet and ready to erupt.

I turned to respond and his hungry lips met mine. All the feelings I'd tried to forget came roaring back like a category five hurricane. I kissed him as eagerly as he kissed me. We clung together until the phone rang, interrupting an embrace that could have led to trouble.

We broke apart with a start. I jumped up and smoothed down my skirt, which had ridden up my thighs during our prolonged kiss. I raced into the kitchen to answer the unwelcome call.

“What?” I muttered ungraciously after seeing that my caller was only Stan.

“Hey, what's the matter?” he said. “Did I interrupt a romantic interlude?” He hooted knowing that 99.9% of the time he would have been right in surmising the answer was a resounding
no
.

“Yes. No. I mean, what do you want?”

“I thought you were all hot to get Irina's address.” Stan sounded frustrated and I didn't blame him. A mere four hours ago, the widow's address was my top priority. It was amazing how one sizzling kiss could distract me from my sleuthing. Heaven only knows where my overheated hormones might have taken us if we hadn't been interrupted by my pal.

“Sorry. I have a lot going on right now. Did you have a difficult time getting it from Anya?”

“Anya said she didn't have it with her so I asked Boris.”

“I'm not sure it was a good idea to tell him I wanted Irina's address. Did he look suspicious?”

“Boris always looks suspicious. Are you
sure
he's not ex KGB?”

“No, I'm not. Hopefully Boris won't be suspicious of...” My voice trailed off as I realized Tom was leaning against the doorway, a frown darkening his face.

Stan babbled on about his success. “Anyway, Paula was in the office talking to Boris when I stopped by. She found Dimitri's address and phone number in her Blackberry. I told them you were dropping off a baby gift tomorrow tonight and that seemed to satisfy the big guy.”

I wrote the address on a notepad, said good-bye then turned to Tom. I pointed to the bottle of red. “More wine?”

Tom eyed the bottle then shook his head. “Nope, I need to keep a clear head, especially when I'm talking to you. Now why do you need Irina's address?”

“I have a baby gift for her. She's been through so much with her husband's murder and the birth of their child. It's the least I can do.”

He threw one of his practiced “I don't believe a word you're saying” looks at me. “Why do I think you have an ulterior motive for this visit?”

“You know I think Dana is innocent. Someone needs to help her. Her husband's arrest in the office today could only have compounded her distress.”

“She has plenty of stuff to worry about. In fact, they both do.”

“So what's going on with Mr. Chandler? You haven't mentioned him all night. I hope you weren't kissing me to distract me from asking questions.” I laughed then stopped when I realized he wasn't joining in.

Instead, he stood silent in the doorway, his face reflective. I couldn't tell if he was thinking about our brief moment of passion or if he was back in official mode contemplating how much he could share with me.

“You already know we hauled off your boss because of his attempted assault on a police officer.”

“Yes, but he didn't actually hit the deputy,” I felt obligated to point out. “How long are you planning on keeping him in jail, or did his attorney get him out already?”

“It's not easy to get bail if you're arrested on a homicide charge.”

“
Homicide
? What are you talking about?”

“We have witnesses who placed him at the scene of Dimitri's murder.”

I froze. “Gordon Chandler, the president of the bank, was at the dance studio the night Dimitri was killed?”

“Yes, he was. Funny how he failed to mention that to the authorities.”

Funny how he'd failed to mention it to me.

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TWENTY-EIGHT

* * * *

Tom's revelation stunned me. Mr. Chandler had encouraged me to play detective when he'd actually been at the scene of the crime.

“Why on earth would he kill Dimitri?” I asked. “He's the president of the bank. CEO's don't commit murder.” As soon as the words left my lips I realized how naive it sounded, but I still couldn't imagine my boss doing anything that would ruin his reputation.

A murder rap would sure do that!

“Anyone can commit murder with the proper motivation,” Tom replied.

“So how did you find out he was on the premises?”

“That elderly nurse, Nanette?” Tom looked at me for confirmation and I nodded my head. “She noticed the license plate on his car when she left the studio after Yuri collapsed. On the night Dimitri was killed, the parking lot was full so she had to park on the street, right behind a Mercedes with a license plate boasting # 1 BANK. Talk about stupid criminals.”

“My boss is not a
stupid
criminal. He's a very smart criminal.” My face reddened when I realized my defense needed a little work. “I mean he's not a criminal at all. Just because he happened to be at the scene of the crime isn't sufficient evidence to arrest him for murder. Did the DA put you up to this? You know he doesn't like Mr. Chandler.”

Tom's jaw tightened. “Are you accusing me of conjuring up evidence in a murder case?”

“Um, no, of course not,” I gulped. “But what else do you have?”

“That is none of your business. I've already told you far too much. Trust me, hon, we know what we're doing.”

I bristled. What did he mean it was none of my business? Of course it was my— Wait a minute. Did he call me hon?

Focus, Laurel.

I rested my back against the counter. “I thought the reason you stopped by tonight was that you wanted my insight into Dimitri's murder.”

“Oh, that was simply an excuse to talk to you.” His face colored a little. “I wanted to discuss why I broke it off after Thanksgiving. I felt I owed you an explanation about what was going on in my head.”

My heart rate ratcheted up to a billion beats per minute as I waited for his explanation.

Tom approached as I stood frozen in place. Part of me was anxious. The other dreaded his revelation. He wrapped his arms around me. I resisted for all of two seconds then relaxed in the warmth and strength of his embrace. Despite the one-foot height difference it still felt like we belonged together. Why
had
he broken up with me after a brief two-week relationship?

I tried to remain silent, waiting for his explanation, but the urge to know why he'd suddenly disappeared out of my life was too strong and I pushed him away.

“Only a few weeks ago, we were sitting in there.” I pointed in the direction of the living room. “Locked in each other's arms. You got a call, left for an investigation and never returned. Never even called to tell me why.”

He started tracing patterns on my countertop with his index finger. “I was scared. That's basically the reason.”

That was not the answer I was expecting. “Scared?”

“Frightened of being in a relationship. Falling for someone so hard that if something happened to them it would tear my heart and life apart. Again.”

It was barely two years since Tom's wife died so I could understand his concern.

“But we only saw each other a few times,” I protested.

“Yes, but I was...falling for you. After all hell broke loose with that last investigation, I didn't know if I would ever see you alive again. I wondered if I could handle that kind of emotional involvement. Maybe someday, but I don't know if I'm ready for it yet. Especially given my chosen profession.”

He rubbed a hand over his five o'clock shadow and gave a mirthless laugh. “Although for some reason my profession has me running into you in the most unexpected places. Now why is that?”

In the words of the bank president, I have a knack.

Tom grabbed my hand in his. “This case seems to be wrapping up—” he held up his palm as I started to interrupt, “even if you don't quite see it the way we do. We have info you don't, Laurel.” The look in his eyes grew soft. “Maybe we can spend some time together up in Tahoe. We'll both be there for Liz's wedding.”

“How come you're not in the wedding party?”

“Brian has several good friends. And my schedule is too unreliable, especially given your propensity for tripping over dead bodies.”

He reached for me but we were interrupted by the raucous sound of Tom's cell playing “Jingle Bells.” He noticed my amusement and mumbled “Kristy's idea,” before walking away to carry on a conversation with the other party.