Christmas Male. Cara Summers

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СКАЧАТЬ rang, Fiona glanced at the caller ID. Speak of the devil…

      “Don’t even think of chickening out on me,” Natalie said.

      “I swear I’m on my way. I’m running late because I stopped by the National Gallery earlier today and saw the diamond.”

      “And?”

      “You’re right. It’s beautiful.” But it wasn’t an image of the necklace that filled her mind. It was the face of the stranger she’d seen over the display glass—that lean face with the ruggedly handsome features.

      “And now that you’ve seen it, what do you think of the legend?”

      When she felt the little flutter of panic, Fiona ruthlessly shoved it down. “I think the legend is making this one of the most popular exhibitions ever.”

      Then she changed the subject. “I’m also running late because my meeting at Walter Reed hospital took longer than I expected.”

      There was a beat of silence. “And that would be my fault?”

      Fiona could picture Natalie on the other end of the call, her expression cool, her brows raised. The image made Fiona smile. “If the shoe fits…”

      It had been her captain who’d put her in charge of the department’s Christmas toy drive. But it had been her own idea to recruit volunteers to patrol the high-traffic tourist attractions in D.C. In each location, they handed out brochures explaining the drive and describing where and how to drop off toys.

      The response had been phenomenal. She glanced beyond the line of tourists. Even now, one of her volunteers might be passing out brochures somewhere on the streets that connected the Smithsonian museums. In spite of her aversion to all things Christmas, she was enjoying the chance to give a needy kid a better Christmas than she’d had.

      “Everything’s quiet at the station. I checked,” Natalie said.

      “Me, too.” Fiona was on duty tonight and she’d been hoping for a mugging or an assault. No such luck.

      She had the police band radio on in the hope of a last-minute reprieve. There’d been a rash of snatch and runs plaguing the Georgetown area. Heck, she’d even settle for a domestic disturbance. It wasn’t that Fiona wanted a murder to investigate on the Friday before Christmas, but a little mayhem would have been perfect.

      Along the sidewalk, the line of tourists seemed to be getting longer instead of shorter.

      “You can’t work all the time, Fiona.”

      “I know.” Natalie was hosting a Christmas party at the Blue Pepper, a popular bistro in Georgetown, and Fiona knew most of the people who would be there. More than that, she liked them—her colleagues, Natalie’s sisters, their husbands and friends.

      It was the Christmas part that bothered her. As far as she was concerned, the best part of the holiday season was being able to put it behind her for another year.

      “Fair warning. Now that you’ve been to see the Rubinov, Chance will probably grill you about its security.”

      Fiona closed her eyes and bit back a sigh. Natalie’s husband, Chance, investigated high-profile art and jewelry thefts for an insurance company, and he’d consulted on the security setup for the Rubinov. So it only made sense that he’d want to get her take on how well the protection was holding up, given the crowds of people who’d been in to see it. At least, that had been one of the reasons Natalie had used when she’d nagged Fiona to go see the diamond.

      But she hadn’t paid one bit of attention to the security while she’d been in that exhibition room. She’d been too caught up in the stone…and the man…

      Ruthlessly, she once more shoved the image of the stranger’s face out of her mind. Ahead of her, the bus began to move.

      “How much longer will you be?” Natalie asked.

      Forever, Fiona thought. Please. She knew very well that wishes weren’t always granted at Christmas, but maybe…just this once. All she wanted was a case—one that would last through the holidays.

      The bus in front of her coughed up exhaust and began to crawl forward.

      “I’m moving now,” she said. “My ETA is twenty minutes.”

      “I’ll hold you to that,” Natalie said and disconnected.

      The call came through as she was inching her way toward Ninth Street. Shots fired in the sculpture garden at the National Mall. She was only a couple of football fields away. Thank God.

      Punching a number into her cell, she pulled onto a grass verge at the same time as she told the dispatcher she was nearly on the scene. Then she plucked her gun out of her evening bag and ran toward the well-lit ice rink.

      Chapter Two

      D.C. FELT THE PRESENCE of the other person before he saw or heard a thing. And he sensed danger. Neither surprised him. Combat experience honed a man’s perceptions. He didn’t glance up from the notes he was taking and didn’t slow the movement of his pen, but all his other senses went on full alert.

      He was pretty sure that it wasn’t the man who’d taken a shot at him. Private Hemmings’s assailant had been too intent on escape. D.C. couldn’t hear anything other than the still-approaching sirens and the music from the ice rink. Still he felt the threat increase with each passing second. He’d only felt this way one other time. It had been in Baghdad. And he’d learned later that he’d been in the crosshairs of a high-powered rifle.

      He let his gaze slide to his gun, which he’d set on the ground. His cane lay next to it. Either one would prove a useful weapon…if he could get to them in time.

      “Don’t even think about it.”

      D.C. let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. The voice was husky, authoritative and definitely female. It also meant business.

      “D.C. police. Raise your hands and keep them where I can see them.”

      D.C. did as he was told. As he lifted his gaze, the first thing he saw was the shoes. Cops were wearing interesting footwear these days. Hers were expensive-looking with killer heels and they were moving purposefully toward him. They should have slowed her down, but they didn’t. A black coat that flared out as she moved revealed a short red dress and legs that made his gaze want to linger. But the gun she held professionally in both hands was a bit distracting, especially since it was aimed at his most vital organ.

      The moment he saw her face, recognition slammed into him like a bare-fisted punch. It was her. His mystery woman. Her face was as striking as he remembered. Delicate features and porcelain-colored skin contrasted sharply with a stubborn chin and a slash of cheekbones that suggested strength. A cop’s strength?

      Finally, he met her eyes head-on. He registered their color—aged whiskey. Then his cataloging slammed to a halt as he experienced the same raw, primitive desire he’d experienced earlier.

      Evidently, lightning could strike twice. His eyes narrowed as she stopped in front of him. He was pretty sure that the danger he’d sensed earlier had nothing to do with the gun and everything СКАЧАТЬ