Trammell would gloat at the irony of it. Dane had never had any trouble separating his love life from his work, because his work had always taken precedence. Now here he was, obsessed with a woman who was his best link with a killer.
It was nine-thirty when his plane landed. He was tired, having been up since before dawn, not to mention having flown most of the way across the country and back. He checked in with Trammell from a pay phone in the airport, told him he’d see him in the morning and tell him everything then.
After hanging up, he stood there for a minute, thinking. He was tired, his clothes were tired, he was grumpy. He should go home and get some sleep, think things over. He knew what he should do, but damn if he’d do it. He wanted to see Marlie. He might not like the complications, but he couldn’t wait to get entangled with them, like a moth rushing giddily toward a flame.
Marlie jerked the door open on his fifth knock. She stood squarely in the doorway, her posture plainly denying him admittance. “It’s ten-thirty, Detective,” she said coldly. “Unless you have that warrant, get off of my porch.”
“Sure,” Dane replied easily, and stepped forward. She wasn’t prepared for the maneuver, automatically moving back to give him room before she caught herself. She tried to recover, grabbing for the door, but it was too late; he was already over the threshold.
He didn’t take his eyes off her as he shut the door behind him. She was wearing a pair of cutoffs, droopy socks, and a flimsy old T-shirt that draped over her braless breasts as faithfully as her own skin. Very pretty breasts, he noticed, making no effort to hide the direction of his gaze. High and pointed, with small dark nipples peaking the fabric. His mouth went dry and his loins tightened, the same reaction he had every time he was in her company. He was beginning to expect it, anticipate it, enjoy it.
The casualness of her clothing jolted him, making him acutely aware of the prim facade she normally projected. Behind that facade was a woman whose natural sensuality took his breath, and made him realize how successfully she had managed to hide it. He wanted to shake his head at the waste and at the same time thank God that, evidently, no other man had seen through her defenses.
She had more layers than an onion, and she was determined to keep them hidden beneath that prickly shield she had developed. The blistering glare she was giving him should have shriveled his skin. Instinctively he knew that her hostility was because of her vulnerability; she was naturally angry at his previous suspiciousness and less than gentle questioning, but most of her dismay was caused by the fact that he was seeing her like this, without the armor of her bland disguise.
Patience wouldn’t work with her. She was too used to hiding, to protecting herself. He was going to have to break down her defenses, force her to let him get close to her. His blood surged hotly as he decided how to do it.
Deliberately he let his gaze roam over her. Her glossy dark hair was hanging loose on her shoulders. He liked that. Her bare legs … He felt another jolt of lust. Damn, her legs were great. And her breasts were so tempting that his mouth began to water, until he was all but drooling. He wasn’t going to try to hide his attraction another minute; it was time to start getting her accustomed to it.
Marlie flushed angrily as he continued to stare at her breasts. She crossed her arms over them in a halfbelligerent, half-defensive gesture. “If you don’t have a good reason for this, I’m going to file a complaint about you,” she warned.
His gaze flicked upward. “I’ve been to Boulder,” he said abruptly. “I just got back an hour ago.” He paused, watching for any flicker of expression. She didn’t give much away, but he was learning to read her eyes. She hadn’t quite learned how to shield the expression in them. “I talked with Dr. Ewell.”
Her pupils dilated wildly, and there was no disguising her dismay. She stood stiffly, glaring at him. “So?”
He moved closer to her, so close that he knew she could feel his heat, close enough to intimidate her with his size. It was a deliberate tactic, one he had used before in interrogation, but there was a big difference this time in his own attitude. Talking to her was still important, but underlying it was the powerful sexual need to make her aware of him as a male. The closeness of his body shocked her; he saw her waver, saw the sudden color in her cheeks, saw the alarmed flicker of her eyes. She didn’t allow herself to retreat, but she went very still, her nostrils flaring delicately as the hot scent of his skin reached her.
Her own feminine scent wrapped subtly about him, drawing him even closer. It was a clean, soapy odor that told him she wasn’t long from her bath, mingled with the warm sweetness of woman. He wanted to lean down and nuzzle her neck, to follow that faint scent to its source, investigate all the intriguing places where it might linger.
Later. It was too soon for that.
“So the good doctor had a lot of interesting things to say,” he murmured. He began to slowly circle her, letting his body brush hers, the light touches tingling through his nerves like electricity. Stallion circling mare, getting her accustomed to his touch, his smell. Gentling her. “It seems you’re some kind of miracle of ESP, if you believe in that kind of stuff.”
Her lips tightened. She had herself under control again, not even glancing at him as he continued to circle her, ignoring the fleeting contact of his arm, or his chest, the graze of his thigh. “You don’t, of course.”
“Nope,” he said blithely. It wasn’t a complete lie, but he wasn’t about to tell her he was at least halfway convinced. He’d get a lot more reaction out of her if she was angry, and reaction was exactly what he wanted. “Unless you can prove it to me. Why don’t you give it a try? Come on, Marlie, read my mind or something.” Slowly, slowly, around and around. Never letting her completely escape his touch, his heat.