His eyes were so dark a brown they appeared black and shone with a provocative gleam she recognized all too easily. “I can’t say. Good luck with your investigation.”
“Let me see you out.” They moved along the office-lined corridor to the front desk. Alejandro rose from the bench, prompting the lieutenant to whisper, “Is he a model?”
“No, he isn’t.” She moved forward to take Alejandro’s hand. She’d worn a caramel-hued top and a matching gored skirt that swirled around her ankles as she moved toward the doors. The gentle swish sounded to her like faint applause.
Alejandro glanced over his shoulder. “Who is he?”
“We don’t talk in here, remember?”
He was parked close, and as soon as he’d started the SUV’s engine, he turned toward her, looking concerned rather than simply curious. “No one will overhear us here. Who was he and what did he want?”
She fastened her seat belt. “He’s Lieutenant Montoya, apparently Robles and Mesa’s boss. He told me not to reveal what we discussed. He didn’t order me to be silent or forbid me to speak, but it wouldn’t matter if he had. I’m through holding back with you.”
He pulled away from the curb and eased the SUV into the flow of traffic. “Thank you, but I hope you also consider me trustworthy.”
“I do.” She provided a brief description of the last hour. “Apparently I’m no longer a suspect, and I don’t know anyone who’s ever posed for S&M magazines. Maybe that’s the last I’ll hear of Montoya and his minions.”
“I doubt it. Maybe he never thought you’d provide anything new and just wanted to meet you.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That’s an angle I hadn’t considered. Did you get a good look at him? He has a reptilian quality I don’t find appealing, but he looked at me the way most men do.”
“And how is that?”
“As though I’m something delicious, and they’d love to lick off the frosting.”
“God, what an image. Let’s stop at the market and buy some frosting.”
She squeezed his arm. “Not tonight, please. Maybe the whole interview was a sham and Montoya thought I’d give something away when he handed me the S&M photos. Maybe none of the men had anything to do with Jaime’s death. Elena told me to let the police solve the crime. I called her but had to leave a message.”
“Let’s go to the memorial Saturday.”
It was a presumptuous suggestion and yet endearing. “Let’s? As in you and me?”
He parked on the side street closest to his building and walked around the SUV to open her door. “Yes, as in you and me. I’ve been to the police station twice for you. That ought to count for something.”
She ran her hand over his chest. “You’ve done a lot more than that. I hope whatever you’d planned for dinner isn’t ruined.”
He took her hand as they entered his building and held it for the slow elevator ride. “The vegetable stew can be reheated and the salads are in the refrigerator.”
His loft was only a few steps from the elevator. She moved aside as he unlocked his door. “Is there anything for me to do?”
“You could slice the bread.”
“I’ll be happy to. I was afraid I’d end up spending the night in a damp cell. Let’s forget about the murder.”
“That’s fine with me.”
Other than to warm a meal Fatima had made for her, she seldom cooked, and standing beside him in the kitchen alcove was fun. She bumped her hip against his, but kept her eyes focused on the knife in her hand. “This is fun.”
He laughed and hugged her. “With the right person, everything is fun.”
“You’re speaking from experience?”
He’d poured the stew into the only pot he owned and stirred it gently with a wooden spoon. “Yes, because I know how awkward everything feels with the wrong woman.”
“Or the wrong man.” He felt like the right man, but his father had blown them apart once, and she couldn’t help but feel something bad would happen again. The gory photos Montoya had told her to ignore flashed in her mind. Terrible things happened to people every day. She’d just been very lucky to avoid them.
“You’ve gotten awfully quiet. Is something wrong?” he asked.