Womans Murder Club 3 - 3rd Degree

Chapter 60

IT WAS HARD working the rest of the day. I met with Trac-chio for an hour and had Jacobi and Cappy retrace the bars around Berkeley with Hardaway's photo. Every once in a while I felt my mind drifting and my heart beating a little faster when I thought about tonight. But as Joe Molinari had said, we gotta eat.

Later, in the shower at home, inhaling a fresh lavender smell as I rinsed myself clean from the day, a guilty smile spread over my face: Here I am, a glass of Sancerre on the ledge, my skin tingling like a girl on her first date.

I hurried around, straightening up a bit; arranged the bookshelf; checked the bird roasting in the oven; fed Martha; set the table overlooking the bay. Then I realized I still hadn't heard from Jill. This was crazy. Still in my towel and wet hair, I placed another call to her. “This is getting ridiculous. C'mon, get back to me. I need to know how you are....”

I was about to call Claire to see if she had heard from Jill when the buzzer rang.

The front door buzzer!

Shit, it's only 7:45.

Molinari was early.

I threw another towel around my hair and frantically hopped around - dimming lights, taking out another wine-glass. I finally went to the front door. “Who's there?”

“Advance team for Homeland Security,” Molinari called.

“Yeah, well, you're early, Homeland Security. Anyone ever tell you about buzzing up from the outside door?”

“We generally bypass those things.”

“Look, I'm gonna let you in, but you can't look.” I couldn't believe I was standing there in my towel. “I'm opening the door.”

“My eyes are closed.”

“They'd better be.” Martha came up beside me. “I've got a dog who's very protective of me....”

I unlocked the door, opened it slowly.

Molinari stood there, his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder. A bouquet of daffodils. Eyes wide open.

“You promised.” I took a step back, blushing.

“Don't blush.” Molinari stood there, smiling. “You're gorgeous.”

“This is Martha,” I said. “You behave, Martha, or Joe'll have you tossed into a doghouse in Guant namo. I've seen him work.”

“Hey, Martha.” Molinari squatted down. He massaged her head behind the ears until she closed her eyes. “You're gor-geous, too, Martha.”

Molinari stood up, and I grabbed my towel tighter. He grinned a little.

“You think Martha would get upset if I said I was dying to see what's under that towel?”

I shook my head, and the towel covering my hair fell away to the floor. “How's that?”

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Molinari said.

“While you two are talking,” I said, backing away, “I'll get dressed. There's wine in the fridge, vodka and scotch on the counter. And there's a bird in the oven if you have an urge to baste.”

“Lindsay,” Molinari said.

I stopped. “Yes...”

He took a step toward me. My heart stopped - except for the part that was beating violently out of control.

He put his hands on my shoulders. I felt myself shudder, then seem to sway very slightly in his hands. He put his face close. “How long did you say before that bird is ready?”

“Forty minutes.” Every little hair on my arms stood on edge. “Or so.”

“Too bad...” Molinari smiled. “But it'll have to do.”

And just like that, he kissed me. His mouth was strong, and as soon as he touched my lips heat shot through me. I liked his kiss and I kissed him back. He ran his hands down the length of my back, pressed me close. I liked his touch, too. Hell, I liked him.

My bath towel fell to the floor.

“I have to warn you,” I said. “Martha's a terror if someone gets the wrong idea.”

He glanced over at Martha. She was curled up in a ball. “I don't think I have the wrong idea.”