The Mane Event. Shelly Laurenston

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      Dez cringed as her boss slammed his door closed. But before she could walk away, he snatched it open again. “And I better not see your ass until after the New Year!” He slammed it again.

      Dez glared at Bukowski as she headed back to her desk. “I didn’t even do anything.”

      “You did ask her if she killed Petrov. I think your exact words were, ‘You whacked him, didn’t you? You sadistic bitch.’”

      “Sadistic heifer. And it was just a question.”

      “Uh-huh. Well, your ‘question’ now has you on a lovely vacation until after the holidays.”

      “Still doesn’t seem fair.”

      “Maybe not.” Bukowski threw himself into his desk chair. “But your dad is the one who golfs with the lieutenant every couple of weeks. Whatcha wanna bet he went on and on about his poor baby working every holiday?”

      Who knew bringing her dad to an NYPD function would cause all this trouble? She introduced him to her lieutenant, and once the men found out they were both veteran Marines, they got along like a house on fire. Then they started golfing several times a month with some other Marines. Dez knew it would only be a matter of time before her father found out that she really didn’t have to work during the holidays. With her seniority and vacation time, she could take the entire month of December off.

      But Dez worked the holidays for a reason. Because anything had to be better than another Christmas with her sisters. There were just so many times a woman could hear she was a failure with men and in her career before it really started to hurt.

      Dez flopped herself into her chair and glowered at a wall. The current situation did not bring her happiness.

      “So what are you going to do?”

      She glanced at Bukowski, then back at the wall covered in “wanted” flyers. “Pretend it didn’t happen.”

      Her partner chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

      Dez turned her chair around and glanced at the Petrov file sitting on her desk. She examined the picture attached to it. Petrov had been a handsome man, no doubt about that. But nowhere close to Mace.

      Closing the file, Dez glanced up briefly when she heard someone settle into the chair on the other side of her desk. When big feet propped up on the vast amount of paperwork in front of her, she looked back up.

      Yeah, that sure was Mace Llewellyn staring at her from the other side of her desk. Just staring. Like he used to. Like he knew where she’d buried the bodies of all her goldfish after their unfortunate “accidents” or what she did with her sisters’ toothbrushes on more than one occasion. The all-knowing, all-seeing Mace stare, and it still made her crazy.

      She raised an eyebrow. “Why are you here?”

      He mockingly gave her the raised eyebrow back. “You never gave me an answer.”

      “Yeah. I did. In fact, my exact words were ‘no’.”

      “Yes, but I’ve chosen to ignore that until I hear what I want.”

      Dez laughed. “Jesus, Mace. You really haven’t changed all that much, have ya? You’re still…you.”

      “Are you talking about my bountiful charisma and overwhelming charm?”

      Okay. The hysterical girl-giggling had to stop. A mature woman of thirty-six, she had a divorce under her belt and a healthy mortgage. Acting like the football team captain asked her out to the prom was not, in any way, remotely mature.

      “Mace—” Dez stopped and looked around the room. Yeah, she had every idiot’s attention. “Don’t you people have something to do?”

      As one, “No.”

      She growled and looked back at Mace. She blamed him for what would certainly be hours, maybe even days, of precinct gossip. “Mace. I can’t go out with you.”

      “If you’re worried arresting my sister will come between us—really, that’s not a problem. I’m pretty sure it will bind us tighter together. Besides, we made plans…involving Missy’s desk.”

      “You know I was only torturing your sister.”

      “So you were just using me?” He actually sounded wounded. “Like a whore?”

      “Mace…” She stopped and rubbed her eyes. Of all the places he could be doing this, her precinct should not be one of them.

      “You’re doing it again.”

      “Doing what?”

      “Trying to make me crazy.”

      The look he gave her was pure predatory male. “I like you crazy.”

      Christ, did he just growl that?

      After all these years, Mace still worked her in all the best parts. Making her feel uncomfortably warm…and seriously wet.

      Flash-flood warning wet.

      Her desk phone rang. She should have been grateful for the distraction from Mace, but she grimaced instead. She did not look forward to this.

      Apparently afraid she wouldn’t get the phone herself, Bukowski reached around Mace and picked up the receiver.

      “Detective MacDermot’s desk. Well hi, Mrs. MacDermot, how are you?”