An Unforgettable Lady

Becoming aroused, he shifted in the chair.

Great. On the job with a hard-on.

Real professional.

Smith felt his mood sink deeper into dark and aggravated territory so he took out his cell phone and dialed Lieutenant Marks's number. He knew an update on the investigation would get his mind off that woman's damn blouse.

"How are things going, Lieutenant?"

"Oh, Christ, not good." The man sounded tired. "The chief of police is up my ass because those women's names are plastered all over New York's cultural institutions. The press is barking up a storm, wanting confirmation that the Times article was found on the first body—I'm trying to find out who the asshole was who leaked that little tidbit. And we don't have any suspects so far."

Smith kept his voice low. "Did you check with the doormen of those buildings?"

"Yeah. The day and evening shifts in both places have been covered by the same guys for the past five years. Their background checks have all come back clear and each one of them said they saw nothing suspicious on either of the nights in question. The delivery and visitor logs didn't tell us squat, either. Everyone signed in and out—no dropped balls there."

"Any names show up on both logs?"

"Quite a few. These wealthy-types tend to use the same people. There were cleaning folks, caterers, tailors, plant people. Those places are a goddamn revolving door of help. We're chewing our way through the background checks on every single name."

"You find any connection between the husbands of these women? Business? Pleasure?"

"Haven't checked that, yet. Good idea." Marks paused. "So tell me, how's the countess?"

Smith's eyes flickered across the room. "Holding up, considering the stress she's under."

"Nice woman. Someone with her kind of money could be a real pain in the ass if they wanted to but she seemed surprisingly normal."

They talked for a little longer about the forensic tests that had been performed on samples from the crime scenes. When Smith hung up, he glanced back across the room. Kat had come in and Grace was laughing at something the girl had said. Kat was smiling broadly.

People tended to do that a lot around Grace, he realized.

They came into her office or met up with her in the halls and they'd leave the encounter looking lighter, happier.

Surprisingly normal didn't go far enough.

"Thanks, Kat," Grace said, shuffling the papers around, "You were a big help on this."

The assistant beamed. "I'll make the changes now."

"Don't worry. It's past six. Let's all go home." Grace's eyes shifted to him and then she looked away quickly.

"Well, I'm in no hurry," Kat said.

"Don't tell me. Another date ?" Grace's eyes were sympathetic.

"Just drinks. He's an IT guy. I'm hoping we'll talk about something other than Java programming or the Sims." Kat picked up the document and walked over to the door. "Goodnight, Mr. Smith."

Smith nodded without looking in the girl's direction. Grace glanced over at him and then looked back at the girl.

"Good night, Kat," she said softly, her expression growing concerned.

When the door was closed, her eyes narrowed at him. "You could be a little warmer with her."

"With who?"

"Kat."

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I think she has a little crush on you."

Smith shrugged and began gathering the papers he'd been reviewing. He was consulting on a fraud case for a friend of his. "That's not my fault."

Grace rose to her feet. "True. But it isn't hers, either. When you ignore her like you do, I think you hurt her feelings."

Neither her eyes or her tone were combative but he felt defensive. The idea that his behavior hadn't lived up to her standards galled him for a reason he didn't want to examine closely.

Because he shouldn't care what she thought of him.

Smith smiled grimly. "You want me to take her out on a date or something?"

"Why don't you just shoot for being polite?"

His first instinct was to make a cutting comment to get her to drop the subject but the bravado faded as he realized she wasn't trying to control him. She was honestly concerned about the girl's feelings.

Smith wanted to curse. It was easier to light against something than to give in to a thoughtful request and he'd have preferred the former, especially in his current frame of mind. His attraction to her, in addition to frustrating the hell out of him, was making him more aggressive than usual.

Which was saying something.

"Fine," he said darkly.

She smiled. "There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

As if he were a child in need of soothing.

The gently chiding comment was all it took to spark his temper. Smith got up and marched across the room. Her smile faded.