Smoke and Mirrors (9 page)

Her sadness created a palpable shield around her, a barrier so intense Derek could feel it from where he stood. Go to her, instinct demanded. Wrap her in your arms and hold her tight.

But preservation held him back. For himself, but most of all for her. Sex was one thing, but this pull he felt for Cass was something altogether different. And dangerous as hell. It ran too deep. He wanted Cass in his bed, but he didn't need her anywhere else. Especially not the place that kept demanding he chase away the ghosts making those tears slide down her face. Around them life marched on. Women pushed strollers. Kids ran and played chase. Dogs raced after Frisbees. Joggers trotted by. And somewhere across the park a soccer game was in high gear. Life, with all its accoutrements, in full display.

Yet Cass was crying.

The dichotomy of the two scenes struck him; her utter despair rocked him. Both reactions shocked him to the bone. A long time had passed since he'd experienced either. He'd forgotten how uncomfortable they were, how controlling, how demanding.

But he knew better than to listen to them.

So in the end he did the only thing he could.

He turned and walked away.

Chapter 5

«
^
»

"
A
nything?"

The voice startled Cass, but it didn't surprise her. Gray frequently sneaked up on her, snatching precious time to compare notes. She made a quick survey of the front
office
before responding. "Nothing."

"Tapes are clean, too. If he's up to something, he's damn covert about it."

So it would seem. But just because
Mansfield
hadn't given them something concrete to go on yet, didn't mean they had the wrong man. "Vilas is still here, but I haven't seen them together."

"Have you been looking?"

The cutting question, so out of character for Gray, snagged her roaming attention. "What's with you?"

"Just—" His words broke off as Ruth returned to the desk. She busied herself rearranging the gladiolus, yet to the trained eye her interest in their conversation was obvious.

"I'll be back in a sec," Cass called to Ruth,
then
eased out from behind the sanctity of the counter.

Gray led her to the bell captain's station. "Just calling it like I see it," he continued as though Ruth had never interrupted. "You're not yourself, Cammy. You seem distracted."

His assessment hit too close to home. Between her dinner with Brent and the appearance of Derek's son the night before, she was having a hard time focusing. She'd hoped Brent would reveal some clues she could use against Derek, but he'd practically sung his brother's praises.

Despite the fact they ribbed each other constantly, there really seemed to be a bond between Derek and Brent. "I'm fine."

"The hell you are. We've been together too long for me to miss the signs—what gives?"

For a fleeting moment Cass was glad they were ensconced within the confines of the hotel lobby. Gray had to restrain his questions here, and therefore, could not drag up the truth.

He was right. She wasn't herself. Little cracks were springing up all over the place, giving way to a steady stream of doubt.

"Gray," she began, her voice carefully controlled. "You should focus that energy on the case, not my welfare. I'm fine."

"Damn it, Cass." The curse was so heartfelt it soothed her like an embrace. "You can't keep it all bottled up like that."

She averted her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right. That's why you can't stop staring at the kid."

Cass stilled. Once again Gray had pegged her with uncanny accuracy. She was doing it now, she realized, staring at the boy. Ryan sat across the lobby on the Oriental rug in front of the fire, where he held court with a magic kit. Around him guests loitered, businessmen and women, vacationers, middle-aged honeymooners. The continuous parade of magic tricks wasn't what captivated them, though, that honor belonged to the boy himself. His wide smile—those trusting eyes.

Even from a distance the innocence of it drilled a hole through Cass's heart.

"Cass." Gray laid a hand on her arm. "Quit torturing yourself."

"We need to toss Vilas's room again. I'll—"

"Cass." His fingers tightened around her wrist. "Your shift is over. Go home. Go for a run. Do
anything,
just get out of here before you drive yourself crazy."

As always, his prescription was right on target. She needed to get out of there, but home was the last place she wanted to be. Nothing awaited her there but her
dog Barney, God bless
his loyal soul. "We've got work to do, Gray.
Mansfield
's been back for a week now, yet we're no closer—"

Warning flashed in his eyes. "Don't look now, but we're about to have a visitor."

 
"What—"

"Ah, fearless, there you are."

His voice came out smooth as whiskey. "Hello, Derek," she greeted, turning toward him. He stood decked out in his trademark black, his olive skin appearing darker than usual. "I was just leaving."

"We need to talk."

"Not tonight."

"Tonight." He shot Gray a look of dismissal. "You've been less than truthful with me, doll, and I want to know why."

A rush of adrenaline spurted through Cass, and she sensed Gray tense as well. "Oh?"

Another sharp look, this one also at Gray. Then
Mansfield
took her hand and led her away. In some distant
corner of her mind she laughed at that, first Gray, now
Mansfield
, both dragging her around like a rag doll.

But it was all part of the guise, so she stumbled after him. She didn't think her cover had been blown—there'd been too much amusement in the deep blue of his eyes.

A leafy ficus tree stood sentinel by one of the private offices under the curving staircase.
Mansfield
swung open the door, ushered her inside,
then
sealed the room off from prying eyes and ears. He turned to face her, his hand still curled around her fingers.

"Why the questions, doll?"

"Questions?" she asked nonchalantly. "What questions?"

"Did the other night leave you curious? Didn't you understand what I was trying to tell you? I would have thought you'd be steering clear by now."

"Like a smart woman?" she asked, recalling one of their initial conversations. "Is that what you were trying to do by putting your hands all over me? Prove a point? Show me why a smart woman stays away?"

"You really think I'm that noble?" he asked darkly. "Maybe I just can't stay away from you. Maybe you intrigue me, make me wonder what makes you tick."

"Ah, that sunshine and moonlight bit? How romantic."

His expression darkened. "Trust me, there's nothing romantic about it." Everything about him looked sharper,
more fierce
. His eyes. His cheekbones. His mouth. "Brent tells me dinner with you was like facing the Pardon Board, only I was the derelict in question."

"Oh?" Anxiety tightened her body. She'd thought her questions innocent enough that Brent would have no reason to replay them to Derek.

"You've got questions about me, you ask me."

She had questions, all right. Starting with his son. "I—"

"Better yet," he murmured, leaning closer, "we can cut the foreplay and get down to business." His mouth came down on hers, wholly and completely. He pulled her body against his, laid siege to her soul.

For a stunned moment, Cass was too surprised to react. The shock receded seconds later, replaced by a burning hunger that drowned out all sanity. His assault on her senses happened so fast, so thoroughly, without warning or thought, she was left with nothing but instinct.

A dark need tore through her, prompting her to push up and grant Derek better access to her seeking mouth. All that restless heat and energy she'd sensed about him combusted into a passion like she'd never known. His lips ground against hers, thoroughly, almost desperately, like he could never get enough.

God knew she couldn't.

All she could do was plaster
herself
against him, reveling in the hardness of his body. Easy to lose
herself
there, in his arms, his heat, his kiss, and simply feel.

Feel. Oh, she was feeling, all right. Every male inch of him. And he was right. It was definitely more than an inch. Far more. His erection pressed against her belly made that abundantly clear.

Desire. It was a heady drug, one she had no idea how to combat,
one
Derek Mansfield knew how to use. His talented hands were everywhere. Against her back. Sliding under her scarlet suit jacket. Squeezing between their bodies. Cupping her aching breast. Teasing. Taunting—

A knock sounded on the door. "Uncle Dare? You in there?"

She stilled in his arms. She heard
Mansfield
's labored breathing, followed by a frustrated rumble. "Ryan, that you?"

Cass's heart gave a betraying little lurch.

Uncle—not father. The scene in the lobby came back to her, and she realized Brent had been standing there, too.
Mansfield
had only intercepted the child, occupying him until Brent got off the phone. She'd heard about Brent's messy divorce, the custody battle, but she hadn't realized Ryan was his child.

"Sorry, Uncle Dare," the boy said. He opened the door and peered in. "Just wanted to show you my new trick."

Cass sucked in a jagged breath, but it did nothing to stop the burning inside.

"I'll be out in a second, son, you can show me then." Derek held her tightly against him, hiding the fact that his hand rested against her breast. "You'll have to make it quick, though," he told the boy, "I've got a meeting."

"But it's after dark," Ryan protested. "Meetings only happen during the day."

Above-the-board meetings, Cass silently amended. Other meetings, the kind Cass was trying to uncover, were best conducted under the cloak of darkness.

Mansfield
mumbled something to the boy, then waited until Ryan scampered away and closed the door behind him. He returned his attention to her, eyes dark and intoxicating.

"Now, where were we?"

On the way to heaven, Cass thought grimly. Via hell. What in God's name had she just let happen? "I was just leaving."

To prove her point, she attempted to pull away. "Not so fast, honey." With his hips still pressed against her abdomen, he tilted her chin toward his face. "You know what happens when things keep simmering, don't you?"

She did. "They lose their flavor?" she offered glibly.

Delight danced into his eyes. "Only if you aren't careful." He pulled her braid toward his mouth and pressed it against his lips. "And believe me, fearless, I'm a very careful man."

How well she knew that. "Oh?"

He dropped her braid, letting it fall between them. Then he leaned closer. "We can play your game a while longer, but remember, the more we simmer, the more we burn."

* * *

Somehow Cass kept herself together as she left the coat closet. She tried not to stare at
Mansfield
's tall, dark form as he went in search of Ryan, but her eyes had a mind of their own. So did her traitorous body.

Gray came up beside her. "Everything okay?"

"Just rosy." She was a cop, damn it. A cop. But she was also a woman. Only once before had the two collided so violently. The consequences had been deadly.

She couldn't let that happen again.

"I'm going home, just like you suggested."

Gray opened his mouth, but he clamped it back shut and watched her stride away.

Thirty minutes later she eased a nondescript gray sedan onto the street and blended in with traffic.
Mansfield
's Ferrari was two cars ahead of her; her red sports coupe sat alone in the garage.

You'll have to make it quick, though. I've got a meeting.

Tonight, Cass thought. With any luck,
Mansfield
would hang himself tonight, and this mess would be over, before a dangerous attraction brought her down, too.

Traffic crept through the one-way downtown streets, giving her time to glance in the mirror and cheek her cover. White Sox baseball cap, hair tucked out of sight. Dark sunglasses. Wide shoulder pads. Well-worn Bears T-shirt.

Perfect. Anyone looking at the tinted windows of the sedan would never see the woman inside the drab male clothing.

But
Mansfield
wasn't looking behind him. Arrogantly he wove his car in and out of the snarled traffic. Cass kept pace with him, unable to forget the way he'd kissed her so thoroughly, the shameful fact she'd done nothing to resist.

Because of the charade, she told herself, but recognized the lie. She'd never used sex to crack a case and had no intention of starting now. Yet without that nasty scapegoat, she was left with the grim truth.