Jaine smilingly shook her head and punched the button for the third floor. She couldn't imagine Kellman getting up enough nerve to grab Marci's ass; she and everyone else in the building would have paid good money to have seen it.
As usual, she was the first one in the office; she liked getting a jump on Monday mornings, with all the payroll to handle. If she could just keep her mind on the job, she was off to a good start.
The List thing was dying down, maybe. Everyone who wanted an interview had one, except for People magazine. She hadn't watched television that morning, so she had no idea what snippets of their Friday morning interview actually made it on air. Someone would be certain to tell her, though, and if she ever felt the urge to watch it, which wasn't likely, at least one of the other three would have taped the program.
Funny how she didn't much care. How could she worry about the List with Sam occupying so much of her time and thoughts? He was maddening, but he was funny and sexy and she wanted him.
After eating dinner together Friday night, he had awakened her at six-thirty Saturday morning by spraying her bedroom window with the water hose, then inviting her out to help him wash his truck. Figuring she owed him, since he had washed the Viper, she quickly pulled on some clothes, put on some coffee, and joined him outside. He hadn't wanted to just wash the truck; he wanted it waxed and buffed, all the chrome cleaned and polished, the interior vacuumed, all the windows washed. After two hours of intense labor, the truck had gleamed. He had then pulled it into his garage and asked what she was cooking him for breakfast.
They had spent the day together, arguing and laughing, watching a ball game on television, and were getting ready to go out for dinner when his beeper went off. He used her phone to call in, and before she knew it, he was out the door with a quick lass and a "I don't know when I'll be back."
He was a cop, she reminded herself. As long as he remained a cop – and he seemed set on making a career of it, given his interview with the state police – his life would be a series of interruptions and urgent summons. Broken dates would come with the package. She had thought about it and decided what the hell, she was tough, she could handle it. But if he were in danger… she didn't know if she could handle that nearly as well. Was he still working on that task force? Was it something he was permanently assigned to, or were things like that temporary? She knew so little about law enforcement, but she would definitely be finding out more.
He had returned Sunday afternoon, tired, grumpy, and not inclined to talk about what he'd been doing. Instead of badgering him with questions, she let him nap in her big easy chair while she read, curled up on one of the two remaining cushions on the couch.
Being with him like that, not on a date or anything, just being, had felt somehow… right. Watching him sleep. Enjoying the sound of his breathing. And not daring, not yet, to put the L-word to what she was feeling. It was too soon, and she was still too wary from past experiences to blindly trust that this excitement when she was with him would last forever. Her wariness was also the real basis for her reluctance to sleep with him. Yeah, frustrating him was fun and she enjoyed the heat in his eyes when he looked at her, but deep down she was still afraid to let him get too close to her. Maybe next week. "Hey, Jaine!" She looked up as Dominica Flores stuck her head in the door, her eyebrows raised in query.
"I just caught part of the thing on television this morning; I had to leave before it was finished, but I set the VCR. It was so cool! You looked hot, really hot. Everyone looked good, y'know, but, wow, you were great."
"I didn't see it," Jaine said.
"Really? Wow, if I were on national television, I'd stay out of work to watch myself."
Not if you were as sick of the whole thing as I am, Jaine thought. She managed a smile anyway.
At eight-thirty Luna called. "Have you heard from Marci?" she asked. "She hasn't come to work yet, but when I called her at home, there wasn't an answer."
"No, I haven't talked to her since Friday."
"It isn't like her to miss work." Luna sounded worried. She and Marci were pretty tight, surprisingly so considering the gap between their ages. "And she didn't call in late or sick or anything."
That really wasn't like Marci. She hadn't reached her position as head of accounting by being unreliable. Jaine frowned; now she was worried. "Have you tried her cell phone?"
"It isn't on."
The first thought that sprang to Jaine's mind was that there had been a traffic accident. The Detroit traffic was horrendous during rush hour. "I'll call around and see if I can find her," she said, not voicing her sudden concern to Luna.
"Okay. Let me know."
As she hung up, Jaine tried to think of who to call to find out if there had been a traffic accident somewhere on the freeway between Sterling Heights and Hammerstead. And did Marci come down Van Dyke to hit I-696 or avoid Van Dyke and take one of the Mile roads over to Troy where she could pick up I-75?
Sam would know whom to call.
Quickly she looked up the number of the Warren Police Department, dialed it, and asked for Detective Donovan. Then she was put on hold. She waited impatiently, tapping a pen against the desktop, for several minutes. Finally the voice came back to say that Detective Donovan wasn't available, would she like to leave a message? Jaine hesitated. She hated to bother him for something that could easily turn out to be nothing, but she didn't think anyone else at the department would take her concern seriously. So a friend was half an hour late to work; that wasn't generally cause enough to call out the troops. Sam might not take her seriously either, but he would at least make an effort to find out something. "Do you have his pager number?" she finally asked. "It's important." It was important to her, though it might not be to them. "What does this concern?"