and bag are off limits,” I snapped. Enough with the eBay cracks.
“Tell me the truth, Jackie,” Hobbs said as he sidled up next to me. “Didn’t you find Dawson the least bit hot?”
The little tingle that stirred made a liar out of me before I even spoke but I wouldn’t have admitted it for a second pair of thousand dollar designer shoes. Come to think of it Hobbs had no doubt used that ploy about the shoe bid just to get my mind off the picture from my past and the message it carried. “Honestly, Hobbs, after what I went through this morning and just now how could you expect me to be attracted to any guy?”
Jesus, did I look that horny? After my shower I’d changed into work clothes. The pale blue skirt was hardly a gnat’s ass above my knees. The matching short-sleeved shell epitomized the term conservative. Other than the stylish shoes I could be a bible-thumping missionary at this point. Every delicious ounce of self-esteem I’d garnered from this morning’s amazing romp in the sack had fizzled like a dud firecracker. And now, I stared at the troubling photograph, the past comes back to haunt me.
My too smart for his own good assistant grinned. “I knew you’d like him.”
He just wouldn’t let it go. “Me?” I stood, realizing I couldn’t sit around here feeling sorry for myself any longer. “I wasn’t the one shimmying with excitement.”
Another surge of red brightened his skin from the mock turtleneck of his short-sleeved cotton cashmere sweater to the top of his gelled head. Black sweater, black wide leg Gabardine pants and two-toned leather slingback shoes. Hobbs always looked ready to step onto the dance floor of the poshest club in downtown Houston. Sometimes I hated him for the ease with which he fell into a state of pure elegance.
“For the record,” he said pointedly, “I don’t shimmy. That move went out in the sixties. Don’t you have something to do? Volunteer work of some sort? Tracking down old lovers?”
He was right. The sooner I got on this the sooner I would have some answers. “You nudge your contacts at the DMV,” I told him. I grabbed my bag protectively. “I’ll prod a few contacts on my own.”
“If I hear from Dawson I’ll let you know.”
I didn’t bother telling him not to hold his breath. “You do that. I’ll check in with you later.” I glanced over my shoulder as I headed to the door. “And don’t forget—” I let the weight of my stare settle fully upon him “—the shoes and bag are off limits.” I didn’t hang around to hear his response.
I had to find out what happened to the man in the photograph and what it had to do with me. Someone obviously wanted to know or had a point to prove.
The only thing I knew about that night for sure was that we’d had killer sex.
I winced. Bad word choice.
Actually I knew two things about that night. The sex had been great and my lover had been very much alive when I fell asleep in his arms.
CHAPTER FIVE
Max Caldwell worked deep in the bowels of Houston’s Management Information Systems, which supported HPD as well as the rest of Houston city government. His pasty skin provided indisputable testimony as to how little time he spent in the sunlight considering his ten-hour a day work place was nestled far beneath city hall without a window in sight.
His mop of curly brown hair looked as if it had never been plundered by a comb much less a barber or stylist. Since I’d seen him in swimming trunks I could attest to the matching rugs on his chest and back. Eyeglasses with thick, coke bottle lens required his constant attention to prevent them from slipping off his thin blade of a nose and did little to disguise the unibrow he’d had going on since puberty. Faded T-shirts with unreadable logos, tattered jeans and scuffed sneakers had always defined his wardrobe of
“Tell me the truth, Jackie,” Hobbs said as he sidled up next to me. “Didn’t you find Dawson the least bit hot?”
The little tingle that stirred made a liar out of me before I even spoke but I wouldn’t have admitted it for a second pair of thousand dollar designer shoes. Come to think of it Hobbs had no doubt used that ploy about the shoe bid just to get my mind off the picture from my past and the message it carried. “Honestly, Hobbs, after what I went through this morning and just now how could you expect me to be attracted to any guy?”
Jesus, did I look that horny? After my shower I’d changed into work clothes. The pale blue skirt was hardly a gnat’s ass above my knees. The matching short-sleeved shell epitomized the term conservative. Other than the stylish shoes I could be a bible-thumping missionary at this point. Every delicious ounce of self-esteem I’d garnered from this morning’s amazing romp in the sack had fizzled like a dud firecracker. And now, I stared at the troubling photograph, the past comes back to haunt me.
My too smart for his own good assistant grinned. “I knew you’d like him.”
He just wouldn’t let it go. “Me?” I stood, realizing I couldn’t sit around here feeling sorry for myself any longer. “I wasn’t the one shimmying with excitement.”
Another surge of red brightened his skin from the mock turtleneck of his short-sleeved cotton cashmere sweater to the top of his gelled head. Black sweater, black wide leg Gabardine pants and two-toned leather slingback shoes. Hobbs always looked ready to step onto the dance floor of the poshest club in downtown Houston. Sometimes I hated him for the ease with which he fell into a state of pure elegance.
“For the record,” he said pointedly, “I don’t shimmy. That move went out in the sixties. Don’t you have something to do? Volunteer work of some sort? Tracking down old lovers?”
He was right. The sooner I got on this the sooner I would have some answers. “You nudge your contacts at the DMV,” I told him. I grabbed my bag protectively. “I’ll prod a few contacts on my own.”
“If I hear from Dawson I’ll let you know.”
I didn’t bother telling him not to hold his breath. “You do that. I’ll check in with you later.” I glanced over my shoulder as I headed to the door. “And don’t forget—” I let the weight of my stare settle fully upon him “—the shoes and bag are off limits.” I didn’t hang around to hear his response.
I had to find out what happened to the man in the photograph and what it had to do with me. Someone obviously wanted to know or had a point to prove.
The only thing I knew about that night for sure was that we’d had killer sex.
I winced. Bad word choice.
Actually I knew two things about that night. The sex had been great and my lover had been very much alive when I fell asleep in his arms.
CHAPTER FIVE
Max Caldwell worked deep in the bowels of Houston’s Management Information Systems, which supported HPD as well as the rest of Houston city government. His pasty skin provided indisputable testimony as to how little time he spent in the sunlight considering his ten-hour a day work place was nestled far beneath city hall without a window in sight.
His mop of curly brown hair looked as if it had never been plundered by a comb much less a barber or stylist. Since I’d seen him in swimming trunks I could attest to the matching rugs on his chest and back. Eyeglasses with thick, coke bottle lens required his constant attention to prevent them from slipping off his thin blade of a nose and did little to disguise the unibrow he’d had going on since puberty. Faded T-shirts with unreadable logos, tattered jeans and scuffed sneakers had always defined his wardrobe of
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