The Cop. Cara Summers

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      IT WASN’T UNTIL Detective Angelis reached the doorway that J.C. finally allowed herself to breathe. The sudden influx of air burned her lungs. In a second or two her brain cells would start working again. She hoped. She watched the detective punch a number into his cell. It really wasn’t a good idea to look at him, but she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away.

      “Hey, bro, this is Nik.”

      Time for a reality check, Jude Catherine. This was Detective Nik Angelis. He was investigating a case. A case she was involved in. And someone had tried to kill her. She had worrisome things to occupy her mind. Still, it was hard to forget the effect that the man seemed to have on her senses. A moment ago when he’d been standing so close to her, he’d very nearly kissed her. If he had—

      Just the thought of that possibility had heat pooling in her center. J.C. reminded herself to take another breath. She’d never in her whole life reacted this…this…viscerally to a man. And he hadn’t even kissed her. Yet.

      She definitely had to get a grip. Nik Angelis was a stranger, and while he might be handsome, he was also annoying. He’d called her “Pips-queak,” for heaven’s sake! More importantly, there was a dead body not fifteen feet away in the next room. Father Mike and Roman Oliver were going to the hospital. And what about the others? Nik Angelis hadn’t answered any of her questions about them. Were they dead? Then there was the man with the snake eyes…

      And to top it all off, she was starving. If only she’d thought to stuff some of those almonds in her pockets. Then she remembered the candles…

      J.C. took two quick steps before the handcuffs brought her up short.

      Nik glanced at her as he pocketed his phone. “You’re not going anywhere.”

      She lifted her chin. “I left candles burning in the dining room. Someone ought to check on them. And could you ask them to bring me back something to eat?”

      “This isn’t a restaurant and I’m not a waiter.”

      “If you were, you wouldn’t make much in the way of tips with that attitude.”

      The smile he flashed was completely and unexpectedly charming. “You’d be surprised, Pipsqueak.”

      On second thought, she decided he’d probably make great tips. The man had the eye-candy thing going for him, plus a kind of animal magnetism. “Look, you’d better check on the candles if you don’t want the whole place to burn down.”

      He moved to the door and signaled one of the officers. “Take someone with you and check out the rectory. There are some candles burning in the dining room.”

      “And bring me some almonds,” J.C. called.

      The officer glanced at Nik and he nodded. Then he leaned against the doorjamb and studied her for a moment. “Ms. Riley, let’s start from the beginning. Tell me what you’re doing here and what you saw.”

      “I’m here because I was catering the wedding reception.”

      That’s your van in the parking lot? ‘Have an Affair with J.C.?’”

      “Yes. And you’re Detective Nik Angelis.”

      “Of the San Francisco Police Department.”

      There was a beat of silence, and J.C. found herself thinking that here they were—not even really on a first-name basis—and they’d very nearly kissed.

      “Do you have any idea where the bride and groom are?”

      “They’re not dead?”

      “They’re not even in the church. Neither is the blonde you mentioned.”

      “You’ve checked the choir loft?”

      “Empty.”

      J.C. pressed a hand to her stomach as relief streamed through her. Had she been worried all along about the possibility of more dead bodies? Was the fear and adrenaline rushing through her body the reason she’d become so obsessed with Nik Angelis?

      “Did you see anyone else enter the church?”

      She shook her head. “No.”

      He pulled out a notebook. “When were you first contacted by the bride and groom?”

      “I wasn’t. I don’t even know who they are.”

      Nik stared at her. “You catered the wedding and you don’t know who the bride and groom are?”

      “Father Mike was keeping it hush-hush. But he did drop the names, Juliana and Paulo. I thought they might be minor celebrities. Winners of Survivor or something like that.”

      “So you didn’t know that they were Juliana Oliver and Paulo Carlucci?”

      It was J.C.’s turn to stare as she let out a long low whistle.

      “You do know them then?”

      “Not personally. But I recognize the last names. Those two families are big business rivals, right?”

      “Did the bride and groom arrive together?”

      “No. I’d just brought the cake in when the two women arrived in a taxi. I told you before—I figured the young, dark-haired one for the bride, and the blonde for the maid of honor. Father Mike had told me to prepare cake and champagne for five—the bride and groom, the best man and maid of honor, and him.” She frowned. “He didn’t say anything about the bodyguard.”

      “The bodyguard?”

      “The dead man. He drove the groom here. You’ve got to admit he has the build. Of course, he might have been the best man.”

      “When did Roman Oliver arrive?”

      “Maybe five minutes later. I didn’t recognize him at first, not until the fight started and someone used his name.”

      “Tell me about the fight.”

      J.C. described the noises, and what she’d heard.

      “When I heard the СКАЧАТЬ