“So…”

  “Not yet, but I have hopes for the weekend.”

  Emory dished food onto their plates and carried them to the table. “Grab my wine.” She lit a candle, mostly to keep Diane from examining her too closely, and waved her to a seat. “Promise you’ll be nice to her. She’s a friend too.”

  “Of course.” Diane raised her glass. “To delicious food cooked by a wonderful woman and to our lovers.”

  Emory started to clink her glass but stopped short. “Our lovers?”

  “I came by late Sunday night to dish about my date with Jane, but you had company.”

  Emory stirred her food absently. “Company?”

  Diane’s stare didn’t waver. “I could be wrong. One of your neighbors could have a copper-colored Datsun 280Z with a thin blue line sticker on the back bumper just like the one lieutenant Jazz Perry drives. Or the lieutenant could be seeing someone else in the complex.”

  Emory finally looked up and met Diane’s gaze. “Okay. Fine. She spent the night Sunday, but it’s not what you think.”

  “I really hope it is, because I think the two of you screwed like rabbits.”

  “We had business to discuss, Di. She’d had a hard day, and we fell asleep on the sofa. That’s all.” But Emory smiled as she remembered how perfect Jazz fitted against her and how content she’d been, hoping it never had to end. She’d thought about sex, but it was the intimacy that remained like a brand on her skin and in her mind.

  Diane leaned closer. “When will you stop using business as an excuse to spend time with Jazz? It’s more than that…or at least you want it to be.”

  Emory raised a forkful of food but returned it to her plate. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Karen Patrick?”

  Emory’s stomach tightened at the name. “Ms. Patrick, our jobs, Jazz’s family, and our opinions about how things should be done. She steps over a line, and I lash out. We apologize, make up, get closer, and the cycle repeats. Hot and cold. I don’t know what to make of it really.”

  “You’re passionate about each other, and your jobs, or things wouldn’t be so explosive. Besides, the course of true love is never smooth.”

  “Oh no, don’t go all wives’ tale on me. Give me a snappy comeback so I can laugh.”

  “I think you should shoot her a CU46 text and just do it.”

  Emory grinned. “Dare I ask?”

  “See you for sex.”

  Emory shook her head, but her body tingled. “Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

  Diane forked some of the stir-fry into her mouth and chewed slowly. “Mmm, this is so good.” She waved her fork in a circle. “Tell me how you left things Monday morning.”

  “Sunday night and Monday morning were great. We talked about some stuff and bonded, I think. She implied that she wanted to date me seriously. Yesterday was the problem.”

  Diane rolled her hand for more details as she chewed.

  “Jazz said privatization of CPS services might not be such a bad idea.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Exactly. I might’ve overreacted and told her to leave. I thought we were on the same page.” Emory grimaced. “When I say it aloud, I sound like an insensitive shrew.”

  “Did she tell you why she feels that way?” Diane asked.

  “Her life before the Carlyles was bad, so the fact that she wants to find a better way than traditional placement and adoption shouldn’t surprise me. Damn, I totally overreacted. Now I owe her another apology. See what I mean?”

  “But you were close Sunday night.”

  “I’ve never felt such intimacy with anyone.” The fear in Jazz’s eyes flashed through her mind and then the relief as she allowed Emory to comfort her. “I feel like she sees me, the real me, and opens up herself. What am I going to do, Di?”

  “You’re going to grab her and hold on, no matter how rough the ride. Do you hear me?”

  Emory nodded.

  “I mean it, Em. Jazz makes you feel things you haven’t felt before. If you don’t try, the regrets will be fierce. Say the words.”

  “I’ll try.” Di gave her a hard stare. “I’ll really try to hold on.” The words left her lips, and Emory relaxed. Her path seemed obvious when someone else pointed it out, but could she follow through?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jane had been off since Emory made the discovery about the USAA stats, but now she hurried down the hallway toward the emergency room to see her. She waited until Jane finished a chart at the nurses’ station before approaching.

  “Do you have a minute?”

  Jane checked the large wall clock. “I’m due a break. Canteen?”

  Emory nodded, and they walked to the elevator. Neither spoke until they were alone.

  “What’s wrong, Emory?” Jane took her hands and forced her to look at her.

  “I don’t want to put you in a compromising position. And you can totally say no.” She hesitated, second-guessing her request. “I’m wondering if your source on the USAA contract can provide more information?”

  “I’m not sure. What do you need?”

  She explained what she’d discovered in Karen’s files and her suspicions. “The official USAA adoption statistics for the past two years for comparison would be great. If the company is letting these inflated costs and backdoor payments slide, we need to know before the state turns everything over to them and puts good people out of jobs.” She searched Jane’s face, seeing the same concern that she felt. “I’m also looking into the number of abuse and neglect cases involving USAA adoptees.”

  “Is this about the case we had the other day?”

  “It certainly got me thinking, but right now I’m just exploring everything and having to do it quickly.”

  The elevator door opened at the canteen, and they got drinks and headed for a table. Jane sipped and nodded at coworkers who waved or spoke in passing.

  “If you’d rather not get more involved, or if this would compromise a friendship, I understand. I’ll appeal to the state for the statistics. I’m sure USAA files periodic reports to maintain their certification. I just don’t want to tip my hand before I have more details and those numbers will be too old to be useful.”

  “My source is a former CPS employee who now works at USAA headquarters. The reason she gave me the contract information in the first place is because she’s questioning some of the company’s practices. I don’t think either of us would have a problem providing what you need, but I should check with her before I commit.”

  For the first time since Jazz left her condo three days ago, Emory felt hopeful. “That would be great, Jane. You’ll let me know?”

  “Of course, and before we go…” She checked her watch. “I just wanted to say thanks for giving Diane my number. We’ve been out a few times, and it feels good.”

  Emory scooted her chair closer. “And?”

  “I really like her, but she’s sort of out there. Should I be worried about getting hurt?”

  “Di is different, but she’s also one of the most loyal people I know. She’s not a player. If she’s into you, she’s a keeper. Do you have chemistry?” Jane dipped her head. “I’ll take the rosy color of your cheeks as a yes.” She cupped Jane’s hand. “I’m so happy for both of you.”

  Jane smiled. “May be too soon for congratulations, but I think we have potential.”

  “If I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t have given her your number. Keep me posted?”

  “I’m sure you’ll hear it from both sides.” She glanced at her watch again. “I have to get back, but I’ll check on your request as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you so much, Jane.” Emory stared into her teacup letting her conflicted emotions settle. The information about USAA could put people out of work as easily as the privatization contract. It also had the potential to destroy an agency that provided a benefit to children. Were her motives pure or was she striking out at Karen for her interest in Jazz and because she reminded Emory so much of the woman Jean had dumped her for? Was she that shallow?

  She pushed the cold tea aside and headed back to her office with another question niggling at the back of her mind. How had Karen gotten the most recent CPS statistics? Time was needed to compile, analyze, and publish data, and the publicly released results were usually a couple of years behind the time period being analyzed. Maybe she had an inside person as well. The most logical place to start was Sheri McGuire because she worked with Karen placing older children and seemed to be a big supporter of USAA. Had she already secured a position in the new regime in exchange for inside info?

  * * *

  Jazz stood in front of the last squad lineup and prepared to repeat the same spiel she’d already given three times today. “Check your alerts for the description of a van that brought drugs into the area from Georgia. Joshua Spencer, Caucasian male, is the driver, and he reportedly has an eleven-year-old child, Shea Spencer, with him. As of two days ago, he was still in Greensboro. Last known location was the Red Carpet Inn off Gate City Boulevard. Contact your informants about recent drug shipments. We need to locate this child ASAP, and a big drug arrest wouldn’t be bad either. I have something for the officer who finds them.”

  “Bribing an officer is against the law, Loo,” one of the officers said, and everyone laughed.

  “Motivation isn’t.”

  “Is this guy usually armed?” a younger officer asked.

  “Unclear, but he’s been violent in the past, and he’s a drug dealer, so assume he is. But don’t let an overabundance of caution make you reckless or too quick to act. The child’s safety is paramount.”

  Jazz spoke with the squad sergeant and a few officers before heading toward the locker room for a quick shower. Third shift lineup ran long, and she’d been at work before dawn, so a hot shower and change into civvies before the ride home was perfect. As she toweled off and slid into her jeans, her cell vibrated on the bench. “Yeah?”

  “Is this a bad time?” Emory asked. The background noise sounded like she was in a bar or restaurant.

  Jazz’s breath hitched, and she froze with her shirt unbuttoned. “Never for you.” She’d wanted to call a hundred times since their disagreement on Tuesday but didn’t know how to apologize for something she believed but regretting saying.

  “Are you at home?”

  “Just about to leave the station. It’s been a long day.” Emory hesitated, and Jazz heard a heavy sigh. “What’s up, Em?”

  “I guess you’re too tired to meet for a drink…and a chat.”

  Jazz tucked the phone under her chin, buttoned her shirt, and maneuvered her arms into a pullover sweater. “Then you’d guess wrong. Where are you?”

  “M’Coul’s downtown, but I could meet you somewhere else.”

  “That’s good. Are you upstairs or down?”

  “Up in the back booth.”

  “See you in ten minutes.” Jazz tugged on her boots, slid her cell in her back pocket, and pulled into the parking lot behind M’Coul’s a few minutes later. Her heart pounded as she took the steps two at a time, dodging people coming down the narrow stairs. At the top, she paused and searched for Emory. When she spotted her, everything slowed, except an unexpected rush of arousal.

  Emory lifted a wine glass to her lips, took a sip, and licked the rim. Jazz’s knees trembled as blood rushed to her core. Everyone else in the room disappeared, but Emory came into sharp focus. Her ivory complexion crinkled between her eyes and across her forehead with a look Jazz had come to recognize as deep thought. Her hand cradled the wine glass, and the red-glossed nail of her forefinger absently tapped the side. She wore a pale turtleneck and forest green button-up sweater that highlighted the sparkle of her emerald eyes when she looked up and saw Jazz. How had she ever doubted that she wanted to be with Emory, only Emory?

  “I said, excuse me.”

  Jazz turned, and a line of patrons had queued up behind her on the stairs. “Sorry.” She quickly moved to the booth where Emory sat and slid in across from her. “Hi.”

  “Impeding traffic, darling?” Her wide smile erased the worry lines and warmed Jazz through and through.

  “Guess so, but I was distracted.”

  “Were you? It’s good to see you too.” Emory shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Before I lose my nerve, I want to apologize for the other night. You should be able to tell me anything without worrying I’ll go ballistic. I’m sorry, and I won’t try to justify my behavior.”

  “It’s okay. We’re both passionate about our work.”

  Emory glanced down into her wine glass. “I guess I’d hoped we’d be on the same side.”

  “We both want what’s best for the children. Isn’t that the same side?”

  “Technically, but we don’t agree if privatization is best. Do we?”

  Jazz reached across the table and cupped Emory’s hand. “Maybe. We’re just coming at the issue from different directions. We have more work to do, and I get that you’re concerned about your job, so I’ll try to be more sensitive. You may be surprised in the end.”

  “That sounds a bit cryptic.”

  “A little faith, Em?” She squeezed Emory’s hand.

  “I’ll try.” Emory motioned toward the bar. “May I buy you a drink? It looks like I could use another as well, liquid courage.”

  Jazz glanced at their joined hands and swallowed hard. “Would you mind terribly if we left? I’d really like to be alone with you.” She stood and offered her hand.

  Emory blushed, slid to the edge of the booth, and took Jazz’s hand. “I don’t mind at all.”

  “Did you drive?” Emory shook her head, and Jazz threw some bills on the table and guided Emory outside to her car. Her body ached as she closed Emory’s door and made her way to the driver’s side. She sat down and gripped the steering wheel not trusting her empty hands with Emory so near. “Can we go to your place?”

  “Yes, please.” Emory reached over the emergency brake and placed her hand on Jazz’s thigh as she drove, making the short distance feel much longer. “Is this all right?”

  “If you mean is it distracting as hell, yes. If you mean do I like it, very much.”

  Emory grinned. “So, you’re into sadism?”

  “Apparently where you’re concerned.” She stopped in front of Emory’s door, rushed to the other side of the car, and helped her out. When Emory stood, Jazz pulled her against her and kissed her lightly. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Uh-huh.” Emory stepped back, her breathing fast and rough. “Let’s take this inside.” She unlocked the door and pushed Jazz back against it when it closed. “Kiss me again, Jazz.” Emory’s voice was husky with need. “I can’t wait another second.”

  Jazz pulled Emory’s hips against her and bent her head for the kiss. Emory grabbed the back of her neck, and what Jazz had intended to be a light, seductive kiss turned hungry and urgent. Her body heated so quickly that she felt dizzy. “Em…Emory.”

  “Shush.” Emory rubbed against her, stroking Jazz’s thighs. “You feel so good.” She sucked Jazz’s bottom lip and teased it with her teeth. “I want you, Jazz.”

  Jazz eased Emory back so she could check for the truth in her eyes. “Are you sure, because I want you to be sure. I’d never want you to—”

  “I’m sure.” The only thing Emory was sure about was that she had to have Jazz, everything else be damned. If all they ever had was this night of just sex, she’d settle for that, but she’d take it on her terms. Emory reached for the tail of Jazz’s sweater, but she stopped her.

  “And if this is only—”

  “Then I’ll have no regrets.” She shucked Jazz’s sweater over her head. “Can we stop talking now?” She tugged Jazz’s shirt from her jeans and tore at the buttons, leaving the shirt open to expose her bare breasts. If she slowed down and thought about what she was doing, she’d lose her nerve. That wasn’t happening tonight. She was going with Di’s advice and her own feelings.

  “Wouldn’t you like to take this somewhere else, like the bedroom or a sofa at least?”

  “I want to make you come. Right here. Right now.” Emory unbuckled Jazz’s belt and folded her jeans over just enough to slide her hand under the waistband of her briefs. “I’m going to touch you, Jazz. Is that okay?” She wasn’t usually so brazen, but this was an opportunity to prove she wasn’t all about rules and propriety.

  “Uh-huh.” She cupped Emory’s head and brought them together in a kiss. “You taste so good, Em.”

  The softness and taste of Jazz’s lips threatened to sidetrack Emory, but she withdrew long enough to draw a full breath and then slid her hand lower down Jazz’s body. She captured Jazz’s clit between two fingers and eased back and forth. “Will you let me have you, like this?”

  “Is that a…trick question?” Jazz groaned and shoved her hips forward. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t make me wait too long.”

  Emory quickened her strokes for several seconds but slowed when Jazz tried to match the pace. “Look at me. See me.” She loved controlling the pace of Jazz’s pleasure, bringing her close and pulling back, making Jazz want and need her over and over. Jazz looked into her eyes, and the connection pulsed through Emory, a bolt of adrenaline sparking energy and desire. “That’s it, darling.”

  “Can I take these off?” Jazz pulled at Emory’s clothes. “I want to see you, feel you.”

  “Not yet.” Two things gave her the confidence to take Jazz like this—her absolute hunger for her and the fact that she was still clothed. Worrying about Jazz’s reaction to her body and dealing with her own insecurity would kill the mood and her courage. She concentrated on Jazz’s responses and increased the pace of her touch.

  “Harder,” Jazz pleaded. “Not easy…standing.”

  Emory stepped closer, hiked her skirt up, and slid her leg up Jazz’s firm thigh. “See how hot you make me?” She guided Jazz’s fingers between her legs. “Keep your hand there while I make you come.” Emory squeezed Jazz’s tender flesh again and pumped faster.

  “Please, Em.”

  “Wait.” Emory stepped back and stripped the remainder of Jazz’s clothes off, her jeans and boots pooled around her ankles. “I want to see your body when you come.” She again wedged her hand between Jazz’s legs and watched her thrust to meet her, her head thrown back against the door.

 

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