“I’ll see what I can do,” the detective promised.
They talked for a few more minutes, then Paterno seemed satisfied that the interview was over. “Okay, that about covers it for today, but if anything else happens, I want to hear about it.”
“You will,” Marla agreed as she and Nick stood. “I don’t suppose you’ve located my purse?” She hoisted the shoulder strap of the handbag she’d taken from her closet onto her shoulder. “I should have had it with me that night.”
“It’s still missing?” Paterno frowned, chewed, clicked his pen. “I’ll have the scene checked again.”
“Thanks.”
The phone on his desk jangled. Detective Paterno snatched up the receiver and wedged it between his shoulder and ch
in as he answered. “Paterno . . . yeah . . . no, I’m just finishing up here. I’ll be down in five.” He hung up and reached for his jacket. “I’m serious about this. If anything happens out of the ordinary, give me a call.”
“You got it,” Nick promised.
By the time they walked out of the station, night was falling over the city. “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee,” Nick offered as they waited at the crosswalk and a crowd gathered on the corner. Rush hour traffic clogged the city. The smells of exhaust and rain were heavy in the air.
A chilly blast of air ripped through the streets, catching in the hem of Marla’s raincoat and blowing the short strands of her hair from her face. Nick’s hand was at her arm, his offer hanging in the wintry air.
“I don’t know,” she said, though she longed for more time with him, time alone, time to sort out her feelings.
“It’s just coffee.”
The light changed. They hurried across the street in a tide of pedestrians. “I should get back before dinner. I haven’t seen Cissy since this morning and I put the baby down around noon.” She smiled up at him wryly. “I am a mother, you know, and therefore have a few motherly duties.”
“Then we’ll get a cup to go,” he said as they stepped into an elevator and rode to the third level. They didn’t touch on the way to the pickup. Marla’s jaw ached and her head pounded with a thousand nagging questions, none of which she could answer. Who was she? Why did her father think she was someone else? Why couldn’t she remember? Would anyone really want her dead? Why, when she was married to one man, was she so perilously attracted to another?
She leaned against the seat and closed her eyes. The sounds of the city—the rumble of engines, whine of wheels, honk of horns—faded as Nick switched on the radio and some country song filled the interior. What was she doing even having coffee with Nick? It was sure to spell disaster. She had only to think about last night and remember how easy it was to fall victim to temptation. Even now, at the thought of his hands bunching in the satin, delving beneath it to skim her skin, her breath caught in the back of her throat.
What would be the sin?
Her marriage was a facade. She didn’t even sleep with her husband.
Why not take a step on the wild side, discover the woman she sensed was hiding in Marla Cahill’s life, in her house, in her skin?
Opening her lids a crack, she watched Nick from the corner of her eye. Rugged. Male. All honed features. Sinew and muscle. Tensile strength and quick mind. She bit her lip. As if he had somehow divined the turn of her thoughts, he slashed a look at her that cut right to her center. Blue eyes found hers and locked for a heartbeat. He felt it, too. Here in the confines of his damned truck with the city pulsing around them, oncoming headlights daring to breach the intimate darkness of the truck’s interior, Nick felt the fire. The want.
In that split second, she responded—immediate and incendiary, hot as a devil’s breath and far more dangerous.
Don’t go there, she warned herself and hugged the passenger door. You have too much to think about right now—someone might be trying to kill you. You don’t really know who you are. Kissing Nick would only lead to more. Touching. Caressing. Pressing hot skin to hotter flesh. Just like last night, when you were nearly caught. You would be making the worst mistake of your life and you could lose everything: your husband, your children, your home, your own self-respect.
She squeezed her eyes shut, tamping down the unwanted emotions.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he slowed the truck. When she opened her eyes, she found him hunting for a parking space. “You’re safe with me.”
Oh, yeah, right. About as safe as I would be with a lit match in a pool of gasoline!
She smiled at the thought. “Maybe you’re not safe with me, brother-in-law.”
“That, lady, is a given.” He parked not far from the waterfront, half a block from Ghirardelli Square where the brickfaced buildings surrounded a courtyard and clock tower.
Nick zeroed in on a coffee shop that specialized in exotic flavors. They ordered to go, sampled from a tray of muffins and scones, then carried their steaming cups outside. Fog curled in gentle wisps through the streets that were guarded by old warehouses now housing shops and boutiques. Thousands of tiny white lights glimmered in the trees while lampposts gave off a bluer, more ethereal glow.
“Maybe you should tell me about us,” she said as they walked together around a mermaid fountain in the square. “You know, where we met. What we did.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Try to roll back the years, will you? One of us would like to catch up on her memories.” Cradling her cup in her hands she took a sip of the warm latte and licked a bit of foam from her lips.