She heard a familiar noise outside and walked to the front window. "Where are you?"

"On my way home."

"No, but where, exactly?"

A few seconds went by. "I just passed your house, actually. Fiona's house. I wanted to check things out on my way home-"

"Come back."

Will pulled up to the curb, certain he was making a mistake and equally certain he wasn't going to do a damn thing about it. The front porch light went off. Then the door opened, and Courtney slipped out.

He got out of the Suburban and closed the door as softly as he could. She met him halfway down the sidewalk. He couldn't really read her expression in the darkness, but he could see that she wore some silky black nightshirt that stopped about midthigh.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi."

She held up a six-pack. Then she took his hand and led him back to the house. They settled onto the front stoop. For the second time that night, he felt like he was in high school, only this time, he'd snuck out of the house at night to visit his girlfriend, and she'd stolen her dad's beer.

She passed him an icy bottle. He twisted the top off and handed it back to her, then took one for himself.

"I hope you like Corona," she said. "No limes."

"This is good."

Her bottle clinked against his. "Here's to sucky birth days." She tipped it back, and he watched her. The breeze lifted little strands of her hair off her shoulders.

"I'm sorry about earlier."

"You said that already. Let's forget it." She picked up his free hand. "What brings you out here so late, Detective Hodges?"

He glanced up and down the street. Everything seemed quiet. Fiona and Jack lived in a middle-class neighborhood with residents who mowed their lawns regularly and went to bed at a reasonable hour.

"Just wanted to do a drive-by."

She gazed at him. He wondered what she was thinking. He wondered what she thought of him.

God, he was an idiot. He swigged his beer and looked down the street.

She bumped her knee against his.

He bumped hers back.

Then she rested her head on his shoulder, and he felt a pang of longing so strong he couldn't breathe.

He took another sip and floundered for something to say.

"So. How'd the fitting thing go? I never asked you."

"Fine," she said. "Better than I expected, in fact. Her dress is perfect for her."

"Are you in the wedding?"

"I'm a bridesmaid. No chiffon, thank God."

Her hair smelled good again, and he looked away.

"Courtney...?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry about the timing here. If things were different-"

"Stop apologizing. I'm allergic to guilt."

"I like you a lot."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"I know you're innocent."

She pulled her hand away and rested her beer on the steps. He couldn't see her face in the dimness, but he felt the tension in her body. She was pissed. Great.

And he didn't blame her.

He shouldn't be here, having this conversation. Everything about tonight had been wrong. Yes, he'd been ordered to interview her again, to pump her for information. But he hadn't been told to let it get personal. He hadn't been told to check up on her every night, to take on the role of her personal bodyguard.

He was no longer objective, and that meant he should drop the case. But the thought of leaving her fate in the hands of Webb or Cernak or even Devereaux didn't sit well.

He took one last swig and put down his beer. It was time to leave.

"Will?"

He turned and looked at her. Now he could see her face. Now she looked worried and vulnerable, and he could feel that she wanted something. She leaned over and kissed him. Her mouth felt hot and soft again, and he parted her lips with his tongue so he could taste her-that tart, sweet woman taste he remembered from the first time. And then his hands were in her hair, holding her in place while he kissed her and she drew him in even deeper. She whimpered, and he pulled her up, off the ground, into his lap, and his hands slid over all that cool, thin fabric until he found her breasts. She raked her fingernails over his scalp and pressed herself against him until he couldn't think of anything but how much he wanted to have her, every inch of her. She smelled good, she tasted good, and the warm weight of her was better than anything he could remember.

Something buzzed, and they jerked apart.

She stared down at him. "It's you," she whispered.

Reality crashed in, and he shifted her off his legs so he could fish the phone out of his pocket.

"Hodges."

Courtney stood up and turned around. She wouldn't look at him.

"We got a robbery-homicide on Willow and Fifteenth. Can you get there?"

"Yes," he told Devereaux.

"Good. And if you're still interviewing our suspect, you need to cut her loose. You got me?"

Will took a deep breath, then blew it out. "Yeah."

CHAPTER 12.

Nathan followed Hodges past the stainless steel nameplate to the sleek glass counter. The receptionist's smile faded as they walked up, and Nathan knew Hodges had been making a pest of himself here for the past week.

"We're here to see Jim Wilkers," the rookie told her.

A stiff nod. "Have a seat, Detectives."

Nathan wandered over to a window that had an impressive view of Town Lake while Hodges went to the stainless steel coffeemaker and poured himself a cup. "Hey, pour me some, too, would you?"

Hodges took a gulp of coffee and sank onto the couch.

Nathan stared at him. Hodges took another sip and looked up. "What?"

"You hard of hearing, man?"

"Who, me?"

"No, the other asshole sitting there ignoring me."

Hodges darted his gaze around the empty waiting room. Then he nodded slightly.

"War injury?"

"Left ear's sixty percent."

Nathan crossed his arms and looked at him. How had he made it through his police physical? This guy was one enigma after another. And probably the biggest mystery was why a cop with so much potential would piss his career away for a woman.

"So, how'd it go with Courtney last night?"

Hodges glanced up from his coffee cup. Cleared his throat. "It was okay."

"You get any new leads?"

He shrugged. "A few things to check out."

"We both know she didn't do it."

His partner's face remained blank.

"But she's Cernak's favorite," Nathan continued.

"Why?"

Nathan shrugged. "He likes things simple. He plays the odds. Female victim, look at the boyfriend, the husband. Male victim, it's usually a business deal gone bad or a jilted lover. Lot a times, that's how it works out."

Hodges shook his head and peered into his coffee cup again. The glass mug had W&R etched on the side.

"So, you like this girl?"

Hodges glanced up at the question, his face much too neutral.

"If you like her," Nathan said, "do her a favor and don't fuck up her case. You get too involved, you get your ass reassigned, and it'll be all Webb. You think that's gonna help her? So leave her alone."

"Mr. Wilkers will see you now, gentlemen."

Nathan shifted his attention to the receptionist. She stood stiffly in the doorway and her voice was even chillier than the air-conditioning. Nathan followed her down a long hallway. She bypassed several windowed conference rooms and then opened a door.

"He'll just be a moment."

"What, no window?" Nathan asked, sinking into a black leather chair at the end of the table.

She glared at him and then turned to Hodges. "Can I get you anything?" She glanced pointedly at his coffee mug.

"No, thank you."

Nathan let her almost get the door closed. "Wait!" She turned around, and he smiled. "I'll have some of that water, please. With the bubbles in it."

Her lips pressed together, and she pulled the door shut. Hodges looked at him from across the room. He hadn't claimed a chair yet.

"I'm surprised you wanted to come," Hodges said. "I thought you were buried today."

"Ah, nothing that couldn't wait."

Hodges watched him closely, and Nathan knew he was trying to pin down his motive. Nathan wasn't even officially on this case, but he'd put in more hours so far than anyone.

This was a peach of a case, no matter how you sliced it. And although he hadn't kept the lieutenant up to speed on everything he was doing, he knew Cernak was getting antsy with his involvement. But Nathan didn't give a damn. He wouldn't watch Courtney Glass go down in flames for a murder bought and paid for by someone else.

The door opened and Wilkers stepped into the room, accompanied by the firm's other senior partner, Peter Riley.

"Hey, what do you know? Two for the price of one." Nathan thrust out his hand, but didn't get up. Both men shook it and then lowered themselves into chairs on the side of the table facing the door. Hodges finally picked a seat at the other end of the table.

Wilkers got right down to business. "Detectives. We've been cooperative to this point, but this is getting ridiculous. As you well know, our time is money."

Nathan shook his head. "Sorry, guys. These things take a while."

"But didn't you recover a gun?" Wilkers asked. "We heard you were on the brink of an arrest."