As he looked around the ballroom, he saw his uncle, standing not too far from Reese, engaged in a conversation with an earnest-looking older man. His uncle seemed to be enjoying himself.
Shaw wondered how long he would have to stay before he could leave.
“Wine, sir?”
He glanced to his side and saw a waitress standing there, holding a tray filled with wineglasses and waiting for him to make a selection. There appeared to be three different kinds of wines to choose from.
“If you’d prefer something a little stronger, there’s an open bar.”
The suggestion came from behind him. One day in her presence and he already recognized her voice.
Moira.
“Wine’s fine,” he told her, making an arbitrary selection.
He wasn’t much for wine, but it would give him something to do with his hands. Anything stronger might go straight to his head. He hadn’t had much to eat today. The last thing he wanted was to feel intoxicated and make a fool of himself around her.
He was feeling damn awkward as it was. Searching for something to say, Shaw turned around. The moment he looked at her, he found that his tongue had been nailed to the roof of his mouth.
When he finally managed to pry it loose, he mumbled, “Dressmaker run out of material?”
Moira had on a hot pink, shimmery two-piece outfit. The top ended before it came to her waist, exposing a midriff that was taut, firm and tempting. The slightly flared skirt began somewhere below her navel and came halfway down her thighs, enough to cover everything, not enough to keep most men from a meltdown. The bottom of the skirt moved invitingly from side to side with each step she took. Her strapless sandals sported four-inch heels.
Looking down at her legs—just how long were they?—he couldn’t decide whether she was wearing stockings, or if her legs were bare and incredibly tanned.
He knew he wanted to find out.
He was holding his wineglass a little too tightly, he realized. It was in self-defense. There was a sudden desire to run his hands along her legs so that he could make the final analysis himself.
She turned around in front of him slowly, flattered and amused by the look she saw in his eyes. Was he aware that there was raw desire there? “You think this is too much skin?”
He took a long sip before he answered, keeping his voice distant, disinterested. “Not if you’re a nudist.”
“You’re a prude, Detective Cavanaugh,” she said with a wide grin. “I would have never thought that.”
“Just making an observation.” He shrugged. “What you wear—or don’t wear—is your business.”
“Yes, it is,” she said congenially, then artfully turned the conversation in another, noncombative direction. “I didn’t think you’d show up.”
He felt just the slightest bit resentful, as if he were some trained monkey, expected to perform tricks at the behest of the princess.
“I didn’t think so, either.” Finishing the wine, he set the empty glass down on a side table. “But it’s a command performance.”
She heard the resentment in his voice. “I didn’t order you to come.”
“I wasn’t thinking about you.” He looked toward his uncle.
She followed his line of vision, then smiled. “Lovely man, your uncle. Remind me to thank him.” Before he could say anything in response, she hooked her arm through his. “Well, now that you’re here, let me introduce you around.”
He’d always preferred remaining anonymous. “Do you have to?”
“Can’t tell the players without a score card. Besides, they don’t bite.” An amused expression curved her lips as she cocked her head. “Do you?”
“I’ve been known to on occasion.”
“Then I’ll steer you clear of Janice Shields,” she decided out loud, mentioned her older costar, a woman known for her insatiable appetite when it came to good-looking men. “That’ll only excite her.”
He couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not, but he saw no reason to doubt her. “Anyone ever tell you that these people you’re around are a little crazy?”
“The word has been bandied about.” She nodded at a group of people she knew, but decided to hold off with introductions. He’d probably do better on a full stomach. “I find it helps to be a little crazy in order to stay in this business.”
She was steering him toward the buffet table first. Food he could deal with, he thought. “Then why stay?”
“Because it’s the best game in town.” Taking a plate, she handed the first to him, then helped herself to another. “Because I get paid for playing dress-up.” She took a small serving of the salad, then offered him the ladle. “And I get to meet fascinating people, like you. What more could I want?”
That was easy. “Something more normal?” Bypassing the salad, he went straight to the roast beef.
“Not interested.” Their eyes met. “At least, not right now.”
He took that to be fair warning and found himself relaxing just a little, although he wouldn’t have been able to explain why.
Chapter Seven
S
he’d half expected Shaw to duck out of the party when her back was turned. That he didn’t both surprised and pleased her. She had to admit that the good-looking police detective corralled her attention more than she thought he should have. But then, most of the men she ran into these days were concerned with the camera getting their best side. Shaw had no such concerns.
Of course, the man did look good from all angles. After this morning, she could sincerely testify to that.
Excusing herself from one of the cast members who had gone on a little too long about getting in touch with her “true self” by being in Aurora, Moira made her way over to the corner that Shaw currently occupied. She noticed that he was sipping what looked to be ginger ale.
“You look like you’re in pain. That bad?”
The scent of her perfume, something potent and no doubt expensive as hell, preceded her. Shaw turned to look at her. The party had actually turned out to be better than he’d expected. “As far as evenings go, I’ve had worse ones.”
Joining him, Moira took off her long, dangling earrings and handed them to Shaw. “Hold these for a second, will you?” She massaged her earlobes one at a time. “They always give me a headache.”
Shrugging, he slipped them into his pocket. “Then why wear them?”
She winked at him. “We women suffer to look beautiful.”
“You don’t need earrings for that,” he told her. He looked as surprised as she was to hear the words out loud.
“What a lovely thing to say.”
“Yeah, well…” Shrugging, not knowing exactly how to respond, he let his voice trail off.
Still massaging, she gave him his reprieve and nodded toward Reese. Again, he was in the center of a bevy of extras slated to play strolling hostesses of the evening in the movie. Each woman was amply endowed. “Your partner looks as if he’s having a good time.”
Shaw laughed softly to himself. Reese looked as if he’d died and gone to heaven. Twice. “Reese doesn’t require much.”
She moved ever so slightly so that she could get a better look at his expression. “And you do?”
“Let me rephrase that. Reese likes being around beautiful women.”
She cocked her head, studying him. Amused. “And you don’t?”
He’d discovered that the most beautiful women were usually consumed with their own looks. He supposed that made her different than the rest. He hadn’t seen Moira stop to check out her reflection once all day, not out in the field, not tonight. But then, she seemed to be perfection itself, with amazing staying power. He had a feeling that dirty from the ground on up, she’d still managed to look beautiful.
“That’s not my primary requirement, no.”
“Then what is?”
“The company of people I like.” Which made him wish he were home now, kicking back with his father, or Clay and the girls. Where the clothing of choice was a pair of jeans and a shirt that had been through the spin cycle twelve times too many, instead of a suit that gave him a rash just by existing.
“And you don’t like very many people.”
“I don’t know. I never took a head count.” He frowned, draining his glass and looking around for a refill. There was none available. “Look, why are you asking all these questions?”
Moira lifted her shoulders in a casual shrug. “Sorry. It’s just the nature of the beast, I guess. I have a tendency to take things apart, dissect them so that I can figure out what makes them tick.”
She looked as animated now as she had when she first popped up in his apartment. Didn’t the woman ever get tired? He was tired just watching her.
“Wrong word.”
“Which one?” She flashed a bright smile at him. “I used a lot of them.”
He figured she was fishing for a compliment, but for some reason, he was feeling rather magnanimous at the moment—maybe because he was contemplating his freedom with relish—so he let her have one.
“When you said beast, I take it you were referring to yourself.” He moved out of the way as two waiters brought in a huge fresh tray of food. He found himself standing closer to her. “The description hardly applies.”
“How would you know?” He saw amusement highlighting her features. “I could be referring to my inner self. Can’t tell a book by its cover.”
He wondered if she was mocking him, or if he’d just managed to trip over his own tongue. “No, you can’t. In case it was unrecognizable, I was trying to give you a compliment.”
There was a soft light in her eyes as she looked at him. “Why?” she asked.
It took him a second to drag his own eyes away from her. In this light there was something almost hypnotic about Moira.
“Damned if I know.”
“Well, in the name of science and edification, don’t you think we should explore this?”
“No.” He glanced at his watch. It was late. As it was, he doubted if he’d get right to sleep. Being around her had managed to stimulate him far too much. “I’ve got to get going.”
Taking his wrist, she angled it slightly to look at his watch. She hadn’t realized that it was so late. She wanted to be fresh tomorrow so that he’d have no excuse to leave her behind.
“Yeah, me, too.” Releasing his wrist, she looked up at him. “Walk me out?”
She looked perfectly capable of walking out on her own. “Everyone in your line of work as pushy as you?”
“I wouldn’t know.” She saw the second director looking her way. He’d been trying to corner her all night. She knew the moment she was alone he’d pounce on her. As the main star, the movie was riding on her shoulders and she wanted to keep things on a friendly but distant level with the second director.
Moira decided to fudge a little. “I do know that if I start heading for the door alone I’m going to be waylaid by a lot of people who want to get in just one last word. I don’t want to be rude, but I do need to get some sleep. If they see me with you, they’ll make an assumption and not try to keep me here.”
“And what assumption is that?”
She slipped her arm through his and laughed lightly, although he’d said nothing the slightest bit funny. She was doing it, he figured, for her audience.
They began walking toward the exit. “That you and I have another kind of party in mind.”
Once outside, she removed her arm from his, freeing him. “Thanks for running interference.”
Shaw glanced over his shoulder. He saw Reese looking at him enviously. His partner wasn’t the only one watching their exit.
Taking her arm, he walked her toward the elevator. “Why don’t I just take you up to your room?” He saw the surprised look that came into her eyes. He didn’t want her getting the wrong idea. “In case anyone comes out at the last minute and rides up with you.”
He tried to filter out the effects of her smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
By the time the elevator car arrived, several people had gathered in the lobby and got on with them. None of them was from the cast party. Shaw noticed that one woman kept looking at Moira, then dropping her glance, not wanting to be guilty of staring.
The last one left in the car got out on the floor below theirs. Just as the woman glanced one last time over her shoulder, Shaw caught her eye and nodded. “Yes, it’s her.”
The doors closed before the woman could say anything. Moira laughed. He didn’t see anything funny about it. “How do you put up with people staring at you?”
She valued her privacy. She valued her hard-won success even more. “I don’t mind.” The truth was, she enjoyed being famous for the right reasons. “It took a lot of work for me to get to where they
do
stare. It’s when they stop staring that I’ll worry.” The doors opened again, this time on the fifteenth floor. The long corridor was empty. “Well, this is my floor.”
Common sense told him to say good-night and ride the car down to the lobby. He didn’t follow through. “Might as well do the whole bit,” he told Moira as he followed in her wake.
She led the way to her room, her back to him so that Shaw couldn’t see her smile. “Your parents raised you well.”
“My dad,” he corrected.
“Parents divorced?”
“Separated.” He thought of the woman who’d been at his father’s table last night. His mother. And yet not. What he’d said to Moira was technically true. His parents had been separated, under the oddest of circumstances.
“And your dad raised you.” Stopping at her door, she opened her small clutch purse, looking for her key. “I guess that gives us something in common.”
“I guess so,” he muttered, trying not to let his thoughts drift too far. They were alone in the hallway. On the floor. And there were things going on inside of him that were best kept in check.
Taking out the card that the desk clerk had issued to her, she pushed it into the slot, then opened the door just the slightest bit. She stuck her heel in as she turned around to face him. “Thank you for being a gentleman and walking me to my door.”
He shrugged away her words. She laughed and, one heel still acting as a doorstop, she raised herself slightly on her toes and brushed her lips against his cheek.
The light touch of skin against skin instantly aroused him, placing Shaw on automatic pilot before he quite realized what was happening.
She drew her head back and looked up at him, her eyes staring into his soul. Had he been thinking clearly, he would have taken the opportunity to leave.
But he wasn’t.
He didn’t.
Instead, he took her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers as if it had been written somewhere that he should. As if it had been scripted.
The moment he did, he became aware of an excitement spreading through his veins, his limbs, rousing him, bringing his whole body to rigid attention. What he was experiencing was the same kind of rush that coursed through him just before he and Reese raced into a life-and-death scene.
Life and death. Was that the kind of consequences that were awaiting him at the end of this moment?
He didn’t know.
He wanted to find out.
Her heart was racing and she felt as if everything inside of her was smiling, a big Cheshire cat–type smile. It wasn’t often that she was caught unprepared for the consequences of her actions but this definitely qualified as one of those times.
The man took her breath away. That didn’t happen very often; she wouldn’t allow it. Despite her carefree attitude, she was very much in control of everything that went on around her. She refused to be someone who allowed things to just happen, refused to simply ride out the waves. She either made them happen or they weren’t allowed to touch her life.
This time, it was different. This time, she had no say in what was happening.
It was just happening.
Shaky, feeling like someone who had lived through an earthquake and had no idea of the extent of the damage that had resulted, Moira drew her head back and looked up at the man who had, unintentionally, assaulted her senses as well as her equilibrium.
It took her a second to find enough air to take a breath. When she did, she blew it out the next moment. “Well, that was a surprise.”
“Why?” His glib question, he hoped, hid the fact that he felt about as steady as a cardboard man in the middle of a hurricane. “Didn’t you expect me to kiss you?”
Moira took another a deep breath. It did no more to steady her than the last one had.
Logic, talk logic. He likes logic.
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t expect you to even walk me to the exit when I asked you.”
She had to think he was a complete hick. Shaw banked down the urge to touch her face. “Am I that surly?”
“Independent,” she corrected, although the other word fit, too. But right now, she wasn’t thinking of him as surly. Another
S
word came to mind. Sexy. Belatedly, she tried to collect herself and smile. “I always find that putting the right spin on things makes them more palatable.” Her heart refused to stop pounding. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, tasting him. Wanting more. Did he? God, but he was hard to read. “Would you like to come in?”
Yes, he would. But he knew better. “I don’t think that would be wise.” For either of us, Shaw added silently.
The smile on her lips was small, heartfelt. And hit its target with the force of a silver-tipped arrow scoring a bull’s-eye.
“Somehow, I’m not feeling very wise right now, but you’re probably right.” Subtly, she took another deep breath, trying to steady a pulse that was still scrambling and sending out garbled Morse code to the rest of her body. She offered him what she hoped was a carefree smile. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
Shaw nodded, then qualified his response. “At the precinct.” He didn’t want her popping up at his apartment in the morning. He planned to stop by his father’s place tomorrow and he didn’t want to bring her along with him. The situation was difficult enough for all concerned as it was without his having to explain things to her. In general, his father was an open man, but until his mother finally came around and remembered them, remembered herself, this definitely fell under the heading of private family business.
He was right, she thought, whether he knew it or not. The way her body tingled right now, just from a simple kiss, being alone with him might not be the wisest thing in the world for her right now.
She nodded. “At the precinct,” she repeated.
Moira waited until she saw Shaw walk down the hall and disappear around the corner before she slipped her room card into the slot one more time. Somewhere during that toe-curling kiss, she’d moved forward and allowed her door to lock again.
Pushing the handle down, she opened the door and walked in.
And stopped dead.
Her mouth dropped open. For a second, she felt as if she’d stepped through a time portal into the past.
“What are you doing here?” she asked of the woman sitting on her bed.
“Waiting for you.” The other woman pushed aside the magazine she’d been flipping through and smiled.
“How did you get in?”
“I told the man at the desk that I misplaced my card. He couldn’t find another one fast enough for me.” Her smile widened. “I guess looking like you just keeps paying off.”