Undone by Moonlight

She embraced his heat, his aggression and need. Everything about him enticed her to learn more, to be drawn further into the inferno. Why was he so determined to be alone? What had made him so cynical and stony? Why did she want so badly to find out if anything soft lingered beneath?

As the thought occurred, his touch turned gentle. His hand, braced at the small of her back, slid around her waist, glided down her hip. If he tugged the ties of her robe, she’d be standing before him in nothing but panties and a camisole, but he seemed more interested in her mouth.

Dreams she’d had alone in her bed, in the dead of night rushed back. How often had she woken in a sweat, so sure he’d been with her between the sheets, positive she smelled his cologne on her skin, only to find herself alone and aching instead?

Fantasies never lived up to their impossible promises, yet she continued to hope and wonder. Now she finally had him.

I dream of you day and night.

Had he felt the same? Had he longed for her, too? Would this disastrous frame-up bring them together in a way their past connections hadn’t been able to?

He pushed her away roughly and suddenly, and she glimpsed the fire in his eyes seconds before he spun with a muttered “sorry” before he stalked down the hall, slamming the door behind him.

Breathing hard, Calla stood rigid where he’d left her. Most of her questions were still frustratingly unanswered. She knew he wanted her, but he refused to give into that need. She intended to find out why.

Because friendship was far from the only thing she wanted.

“OKAY, GIRLS,” CALLA said to her best buds via her laptop’s video link. “I’ve got a serious problem here.”

“Let me guess,” Victoria began, then sipped from a coffee mug while the window at her back exhibited a collection of Manhattan high-rises. “Antonio’s in a bad mood.”

Shelby, the Swiss Alps at her back, frowned, her normally golden-hazel eyes dark with concern. “Is he okay, Calla? Why didn’t he come to the wedding?”

“It’s a big, damn mess.”

Calla told her friends the abbreviated version of assault, frame-up and suspension. “We’ve got to help him.”

“Certainly we will,” Shelby said immediately.

“Does he want us to help him?” Victoria asked. “Antonio doesn’t seem like the needy type.”

“He needs us,” Calla insisted, though she knew Victoria was right. “He’s concussed and suspended.”

“And angry, I’ll bet,” Victoria added.

Calla bit her lip. “Actually, he raced out of here, slamming the door behind him, about five minutes ago.” She paused, taking care not to look her friends’ directly in the eye. “Course that might have been because I kissed him.”

“Well, that would—” Shelby leaned forward. “You kissed him?”

“It’s about damn time” was Victoria’s dry comment.

“How did it happen?” Shelby asked.

“He was feeling guilty because he couldn’t remember if we’d slept together or not, and he was holding my hand, which, in retrospect, I don’t think he realized he was doing, and all these feelings welled up inside me—”

Victoria held up her hand. “Hold it. He couldn’t remember if you’d had sex?”

“He was pretty out of it last night,” Calla said.

“Apparently,” Victoria remarked.

“So, anyway,” Calla went on, “I laid one on him, and he seemed really into it, then he suddenly darted out the door.”

Victoria shook her head. “I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again—that guy has issues.”

“You’re not being helpful, V,” Shelby said before she directed her gaze to Calla. “He’s not thinking straight. That’s why he pushed you away. If you want to help him, you’ll have to be persistent. Think of him as an exclusive interview you absolutely have to get.”

Victoria gestured with her mug. “Gotta agree with you there.”

Calla made an effort not to pout, but it was tough. “He’s been doing a pretty good job of avoiding me the last six months.”

“But he does want you,” Shelby said, clearly frustrated. “Anybody can see it. Your timing was just wrong. The first move has got to be perfect.”

“He made plenty of moves last night,” Calla said. “But since he was toasted, I don’t think those count.”

“Sure they do,” Shelby insisted. “His inhibitions were down, so he went with his unvarnished instincts. Be persistent. And when I get home, we’ll triple-team him.” She paused. “No way will this trumped-up assault charge last.”

Calla knew she’d made the right move by calling her friends, even if she had interrupted Shelby’s honeymoon. “I could use the backup. In the meantime, he’s going to need a good attorney. V, can you call your dad for a recommendation?”

Victoria nodded. “I’ll ask, and I’m sure he knows somebody, but he’ll be expensive.”

Calla winced. “I don’t think Devin will have the budget for a highflier.”

“What about that guy you took to V’s Christmas party last year?” Shelby asked.

Victoria scowled. “The one who kept drooling on her rhinestone shoes?”

“That’s him,” Shelby said, undeterred. “Didn’t he leave the public defender’s office to open his own practice?”

“Howard?” Calla asked. “I don’t know. He asked me to marry him on our second date. It took a long time to let him down gently.”

“Speaking of proposals …” Shelby grinned. “How are things with you and Jared, Victoria?”

“Fine,” Victoria said. “No proposals. We agreed.”

Over Labor Day weekend, Victoria had fallen in love with a Montana adventurer. Though wild about her new man, she was also wildly independent and seemed to be struggling with the concept of coupledom.

Victoria shrugged, though her eyes were bright with lust. “In between him dragging me off to Turks and Caicos, we’re—”

“He drags you off to Turks and Caicos?” Shelby interrupted in disbelief.

“Not exactly.” Victoria’s face actually turned pink. “But we go. In between we’re trying to merge our apartments in the city. No easy task, as it turns out. He wants to buy the place next door, so we can knock out a wall, and he can build a man-cave where he can watch football and drink beer. But I remind him that I should have a chick-den where I can do hair and invite over gay guys to give me grooming tips.”

“Who wins?” Calla asked.

“Nobody,” Victoria said. “We argue, have sex then forget what we were arguing about.”

“Sounds like a good thing,” Calla muttered. “Shelby, does Trevor have a man-cave?”

“He has an office. With a minifridge stocked full of sparking water and champagne. I don’t think cavemen ever envisioned the English aristocracy. His decorator’s excellent, though. Course she makes in a month what I do in a year, but our place is beautiful, and she had a commercial-grade Sub-Zero fridge installed in the kitchen, so she’s good in my book.”

“Is her brother, sister, mother, father, cousin or next-door neighbor a lawyer?” Calla asked, wondering how they’d wandered into this tangent.

“Sorry.” Shelby cleared her throat. “Back to Detective Antonio … does this suspension have anything to do with his trouble years ago?”

“I don’t know,” Calla admitted.

“You’re going to have to ask him about it,” Victoria reminded her.

Calla waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah. I will.” And wouldn’t that be fun? But if she was going to help, she had to have all the facts, no matter how painful.

“It seems to me we need to find out how strong the case is against him,” Shelby said, echoing Calla’s concern.

“And who’s this witness accusing him of assault?” Victoria asked. “Antonio might be moody, but he wouldn’t beat up some random stranger. Why would he need to? He probably intimidates most criminals with a single cold stare.”

“The department isn’t saying diddly,” Calla said, knowing they had to find a way around that. Legal advice was imperative. Course he hadn’t actually been charged with anything … yet. If she hadn’t seen the lost and furious expression on Devin’s face, she’d wonder if she was overreacting. “Devin seems to think his boss believes in him, but he has to follow procedure. IAB’s going to get involved.” She paused to gather her emotions before she added, “They took his badge. I mean physically forced him to hand it over. Talk about humiliating.”

Shelby’s eyes darkened. “Oh, Calla.”

Calla swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’s not just what he does, it’s who he is.”

“He’s still a cop,” Victoria pointed out, pragmatic as always. “He has friends, right? You know, really stoic and tolerant ones. We obviously need somebody on the inside.”

The contrast of Victoria’s sarcasm brought back Calla’s optimism. They had much more on their side than entrapment and lies. “He has friends.” Though that was also wrapped up in hope, since she’d never met any of them. “I’ll get him working on that angle right away. As soon as I find him,” she muttered.

Victoria sighed in disgust. “Don’t find him. He’ll come to you.”

Calla ground her teeth. “Sure he will.”

“Bet,” Victoria said, her eyes gleaming. “I got twenty on the Calla-dazzled detective.”

“Calla-dazzled?” Shelby asked. “Is that a word?”

“It is now,” Victoria asserted.

“Darling, we have dinner reservations,” Calla heard Trevor, Shelby’s new husband, say in his elegant English accent.

“I’m coming,” Shelby called. “Say hi to Calla and Victoria.”

Trevor’s handsome face appeared in the video frame. “Good evening, ladies.”

Calla had to suppress a sigh at his wavy black hair and vivid dark blue eyes. She really was desperate if she was lusting after her best friend’s husband.

When he moved out of view, Calla got a glimpse of him walking away, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit. With this whole assault and suspension mess, she’d also missed out on seeing Devin in a suit at the wedding.

Infuriated again, Calla vowed to personally see that lying, purse-snatching jerk paid for that crime alone.

“How’s the snow?” Calla whispered to Shelby as Trevor left the room.

“How’s the sex?” Victoria asked at the same time.

“Great and great,” Shelby returned. “And I need to get back to both. Trevor’s patient as a saint, of course, but an emergency video chat with my girlfriends is enough to drive any groom to frustration.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Calla said. “Both of you.”

“Tell Devin I’ll make him some of my special cookies when I get back,” Shelby said. “My next catering gig isn’t for a while.”

“And if he decides to blow off the NYPD and these bogus charges,” Victoria added, “I’m sure Jared would be glad to take him off to Borneo or somewhere equally unextraditable.”

Calla’s throat tightened. “You guys are the best. Coffee’s on me next week.”

Victoria’s lips winged up. “Wedding pictures and a plan to clear a friend on an assault charge. Only the three of us could have a coffee date like that.”

After they signed off, Calla slumped on the sofa. Her and her buddies’ latest adventures had included sending a fraudulent investor to prison and solving the theft of a cursed multimillion-dollar diamond-and-sapphire necklace.

How hard could it be to convince the NYPD of the innocence of their determined, clever, though admittedly irascible, friend? Possibly without said friend’s help?

She closed her laptop and leaned her head back. Who was she kidding? For months she’d lived in a fantasy world concerning Devin. The text, the craziness of last night and the impulsive kiss were all she had as any kind of evidence that he might want her, too.

And all of those events could be attributed to some sort of altered state.

He always comes to the rescue when you call him.

Super. If only she were the one suspended and accused of assault.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she should back out and let him deal with his problems on his own.

He’d never desert you.

Frustrated with the whole mess, and especially her interfering conscience, she rose. She needed a strong cup of tea and a big piece of leftover wedding cake.

On the way to the kitchen, she glanced at the plastic pharmacy bottle sitting on the counter. His pain meds.

Victoria was right. He’d be back.

Unless he found a liquor store open on Sundays.

4

DEVIN SHIFTED HIS WEIGHT and stared at the carpeted floor outside Calla’s apartment.

He was never indecisive. What was wrong with him?

A head injury was too convenient to blame. Embarrassment over his suspension was whiney. Overwhelmed by a beautiful woman’s kiss was damned humiliating.

That left regret.

But his DNA didn’t include contrition. His personal motto was trudge on and forward and forget the crappy past that couldn’t be changed.

Her touch and scent lingered on his skin. Weak and dizzy, he longed to give into the comfort she’d offered. To bury himself in her body, hold her against him beneath cool sheets, feel her breath heave, her pulse gather speed.

But she was too pure and perfect for him. He’d taint her somehow. He came from bad stock and had no doubt of a golden upbringing for her that included luxuries like regular meals and consistent lighting and heat. He imagined her dad as some big guy with a Stetson, a firm hand, but broad smile for his beauty queen daughter.

His old man had done a dime for armed robbery, and Devin hadn’t seen him since he’d mooched four hundred bucks and taken off for parts unknown eight years ago.

He leaned his head against her door, bracing himself. He’d mistakenly given into his urges once before. The results hadn’t been pretty.

Added to those crappy memories was the incessant pounding in his head. He wasn’t thinking straight, and only Calla held the relief he needed—in more ways than one. He was weak and, for once, he needed somebody to share the burden.

Acknowledging he’d been stalling, he knocked on the door.

She answered wearing jeans, a gray sweater and a scowl.

“I shouldn’t have taken off so abruptly,” he said in a rush.

She raised her eyebrows. “That’s almost an apology.”

Was he really such an ass to her? Uncomfortable with the idea, he shifted his weight. “Sorry. I did—do appreciate your help.”

“Uh-huh. Did you also suddenly remember I have your pain pills?”

He winced. “That crossed my mind.”

After a lengthy pause, she opened the door wide. “Damned if I don’t owe Victoria twenty bucks.”

“I haven’t forgotten I owe you for last night,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

“You’ve bailed me and my friends out of several messes the last few months.” She shook two white tablets out of the prescription bottle she scooped off the kitchen counter and handed them to him with a glass of water. “I think we can call it even.”

He swallowed the pills, though he knew the medicine would muddle his thoughts. Anything was better than the jackhammer that seemed to have taken up permanent residence between his ears.

She sat on the sofa and picked up a legal pad from the coffee table. “So who wants to frame you?” she asked, all business.

He sat beside her, keeping a safe distance. The last thing his confused brain needed was more kissing, though from her tone so far he guessed he’d blown another chance anyway. “Who doesn’t? I’ve arrested a lot of people over the last fifteen years.”

Her pen poised, she rolled her eyes. “Specifics, Detective. Names, dates, circumstances.”

“That’ll take days.”

“You’ve got other plans?”

He peeked at the pad and saw it contained a record of everything that had happened the night before, along with times and locations. “Case notes? That’s something cops do.”

“It’s what writers do, too. So spill.”

“I’ve been involved with hundreds, maybe thousands of busts. I’ll need access to the files at the department.”

“What’s the chance of Meyer letting you do that?”

“Zero.”

“You’ve got friends inside the department, right? Somebody who can pass on information, give us details about the case against you?”

He shook his head. “I doubt anyone would risk their own job to break the law and help me. I wouldn’t ask them to.”

“You don’t have friends, then.”

“Not everybody is as tight-knit as you and your gang.”

She scowled. “We’re not a gang, and you shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss, as you’re going to need us in the coming weeks.”

Weeks? Devin fought a cold sweat. His vow not to get mixed up with Calla was shaky after they’d spent a few hours together. He’d never last weeks.

Or would he? Was he making too much out of their attraction? He’d been working virtually nonstop the past few weeks, closing several cases. He needed … companionship. Maybe if he gave into his urges, he’d get her out of his system. Then he could be in the same room with her without panting.

Although telling her that plan would buy him a oneway ticket out the door.

She waved her hand in front of his face. “Gone to la-la land already?”

No way. He’d be in a better mood if he had. “This whole thing will be cleared up in a few days. Neither the department nor IAB will take the word of a sole witness.” Which was a good thing for him, since his record wasn’t exactly spotless where the cops’ cops were concerned. “They’ll have to find physical evidence. They won’t, since I didn’t touch the guy.”

“Evidence like the scrapes on your knuckles?”

He glanced down at his hands, noting the raw skin on his right. His heart jumped. “I hadn’t noticed them.”

“You’re confused and probably have a splitting headache. It’s understandable.”

“No,” he said slowly, “it really isn’t. I’m a trained observer. Why didn’t I see that?”

“The doctor said you’d have some side effects from the blow to your head. Shock and confusion are numbers one and two. Are you dizzy, as well? You should probably lie down awhile. We can table this discussion for now.”

“I’m not dizzy,” he ground out. He wasn’t going to let her treat him like a scared kid. Or, worse, a victim.

The mistakes of the past were rounding on him with a vengeance. He already had a huge blemish on his record. The chances of his lieutenant standing by him over another one weren’t good.

Infuriated and embarrassed, he turned to pace, wobbled on his feet and grasped the air for balance. She was on him in a second, sliding her arm around his waist. “I’ve got you.”

Closing his eyes to her compassion, he longed to shoot something—preferably the creep who’d whacked him—but they’d taken his damn gun.

He didn’t resist when she led him to the sofa, though he knew he should. Ever since he’d woken up, he’d felt as if time were jumping forward, then pausing, rewinding, then jerking ahead again. Yet of all the things he had no idea about, he knew one thing for certain: time moved in only one direction.

“I expect you’ll remember everything eventually,” Calla said, sitting beside him, wrapping her hand around his. “Though some people who’re severely traumatized never fully regain—”

“I’m not traumatized.”

“Whatever you say, Detective.”

What happened to Devin? Last night she’d— There was the rewind again. He recalled sliding his hand between her thighs, his name on her lips as she … told him to back off.

Great. The idiotic behavior he’d sort-of remembered earlier hadn’t been imaginary. He should really slink home before he humiliated himself further.

Her thumb glided across the back of his hand, and he went hard. Oh, good, to add to the complications he had no idea how to solve, now his head wasn’t the only part of him throbbing.

“Do you want to lie down or continue talking about suspects for your assault?” she asked.

“Suspects,” he said quickly. Lying down meant a bed and sheets and— “I need to clear this up and get back to my life.”

Her gaze flicked to his. Her blue eyes were bright and clear and so beautiful. He didn’t belong in the same room with her, much less deserve her loyalty. “I kind of like having you here at my mercy.”

“I don’t like relying on anybody.”

“No kidding.” She glanced at their hands. “Not that I want you suspended, I just …” Snagging her tablet of notes from the coffee table, she sat on a bar stool across the room. “The guy who hit you is trying to frame you for assault, get you fired and arrested, sent to prison even. That’s a pretty serious plan for a common street thief. Does anybody stand out among your cases?”

“I haven’t arrested anybody who was happy about it.”

“But in-the-moment fury is different than this. This is cold, hard rage. Somebody planned the attack on you.” Her expression full of consideration, she propped her chin against her fist. “They planned it carefully, maybe for a long time. They turned your job against you.”

The medication must have kicked in because Devin had no idea where she was going. “How so?”

“The thief-attacker-fake victim lured you to do your job then made you pay for it the way criminals pay. It’s symbolic.”

“Most convicts aren’t deep thinkers. They look for a quick score. You’re making too much drama out of this.”

She dismissed the idea with a flick of her hand. “Probably. A writer’s prerogative.”

“You write travel articles, not mystery novels.” Still, the idea of a plan to take him out couldn’t be dismissed, since that’s exactly what had happened. “So this guy pretends to be a purse snatcher and runs by me. How did he know I’d be in that bar at that time of day? How could he be sure I’d go after him?”

“He’s watching you.”

“Nobody tails me without me knowing about it.”

“But you were distracted yesterday. Your day off, the neighbor’s ceiling fan, the dry cleaning, football, the wedding. Regular guy stuff. You weren’t in police mode.”

“Cops, even off-duty ones, never stop being cops.”

“If you say so.”

He wished he could blame his countless mistakes yesterday on “regular guy stuff.” In truth, the only thing that might have distracted him was the thought of seeing her, and he wasn’t about to admit his weakness in that particular area.

Could he have been followed? He’d been running full-out over the past few days. Paperwork and court on Wednesday. Late stakeout on Thursday night. Arrest early Friday. But his schedule wasn’t any more hectic this week than any other. He would have noticed some creep tailing him.

“So we start with career guys,” she said, scribbling on her notepad. “Those with long memories and a score to settle.”

“No.” Devin rose. He was wobbly, which he hated, but he was still a cop. It was time he started acting like one. “We start with the scene of the crime.”

CALLA WASN’T SURE how she wound up in a Midtown alley, peeking around a Dumpster, kicking her way around bits of trash and discarded food containers. The owner of the Chinese take-out joint they were lurking behind was destined to open his back door eventually, then they’d have some awkward explaining to do.

The fact that she and Devin found themselves on the opposite side of his coworkers was a development she’d never anticipated.

Since she’d known him, Devin had used his position to help people and serve the cause of justice. He found himself parted from the law now, and she honestly thought she and her friends might be his only hope. She was going to help him whether he wanted her to or not.

She owed him.

So regardless of what he wanted, she wasn’t going to give up on him. Once he got his badge back, she’d decide if anything personal was worth pursuing.

Seriously, did the man always run from women who kissed him?

Not a reaction she’d expected from Detective Badass, to say the least.

Said detective seemed to have forgotten she was there, though she found it hard to be insulted. He was no doubt reliving the assault from the night before.

She imagined him running into the alley, expecting to see the retreating back of his thief. Instead, he’d gotten clocked.