Wrong Place, Wrong Time Part 26

"I think you are." Devon went for it. "Why didn't he ride Wednesday? Was he really sick? Or was it something else? Because he called me three times that day. He also sent me flowers. And all while he was too sick to compete in the Gold Coast Cla.s.sic."

Blake scowled. "What an idiot."

"For being so obvious?"

"Or for being so reckless. Either way, he took a stupid risk."

"Is he afraid? Is that what this is about? Or is it something else, like drugs? Is he into them?"

"You're very interested in my cousin," Blake said quietly. "Is that for personal or investigative reasons?"

She forced a smile. "Jealous?"

"Should I be?"

Slowly, Devon shook her head. She wasn't going to lie, not about this. "No."

Blake's jaw relaxed. "Good."

"Although on the personal front, James is doing a hard sell on me. Dinner, phone calls, flowers. He asked me to fly down to Wellington next weekend to watch him compete."

"I'm sure he did. You're not going."

"Because I'll throw off his concentration?"

"Because you'll be busy. With me."

"That's just Friday," Devon reminded him.

"Our date starts Friday," Blake corrected. "It extends through Sunday. Blow James off. Not just for next weekend. For good."

"Pushy, aren't you?"

"Possessive. A quality I've only just discovered in myself. Surprised?"

Devon shook her head. "Not after tonight. Talk about discovering new, unknown qualities in oneself. I didn't recognize myself these past few hours. So how can I be surprised about your feeling that way, too?" A pause. "I told James no, by the way."

"Wise choice."

"But I'm seeing him Sunday night."

"Cancel."

"I can't."

"Why's that?"

"Because I made a commitment."

Blake digested that thoughtfully. "Which commitment is that - the one to James, or the one to your father?"

Devon didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Let's just say that James's objectives don't factor into my decision."

"Then I'll try to live with it. But after what just happened in this bed, don't expect me to be open-minded."

Devon searched Blake's expression, her own filled with amazement. "It was pretty intense, wasn't it?"

He nodded slowly. "Very intense. And not was - is."

She heard his intimation loud and clear. "A relationship between us is going to complicate an already tense situation."

"No argument." Blake paused. "Are you okay with that?"

"I guess I'll have to be. You?"

"Fine. Risk doesn't frighten me. I've got good instincts. I've learned to rely on them. And to fight for what I want."

"As opposed to James, who's more self-indulgent and spoiled," Devon surmised.

"You said it, not me."

"You didn't answer my question. Was James really sick? Because his virus was nowhere to be found when we spoke. He sounded in good spirits."

"He knows how to lay on the charm. He wants you. He's not about to expose his weaknesses when he's trying to win you over." Blake paused, his brows drawing together. "To my knowledge, he's not doing drugs. As for his fears, he doesn't confide in me."

They were dancing around the blackmail issue, each of them waiting for the other to address it first. Devon knew it was her call, since her awareness, or lack thereof, was the wild card. She wasn't ready to go there. Not without first getting Monty's permission. She'd already pushed the boundaries of her obligations to him tonight. She'd breached confidentiality by discussing the details of her involvement with this case. She couldn't compound the matter by telling Blake she'd been fully apprised of the extortion letter and phone call.

"Does James know about Philip Rhodes's death?" she asked instead.

"He knows."

"How did he take it?"

"The way he takes everything. With a grain of salt. He was upset. He'll get over it."

"You don't like him much, do you?"

Blake shrugged. "We have different values. What we have in common is our sense of family." A wry look. "And obviously our taste in women."

Devon's lips curved. "I'm sure I'll regret telling you this - but, for the record, it was never a contest. You got to me from the minute I saw you when you freed my soggy pant leg from between Chomper's teeth."

"That was a turn-on, huh?"

"Big-time."

"Good to know." Blake reached out, threaded his fingers through her hair. "What else has that effect on you?"

She felt the s.e.xual electricity between them crackle to life, shimmer through her. "Blake." She pressed a restraining palm against his chest. Pragmatism was urging her to use these moments of intimacy to learn as much as she could. But pragmatism was being drowned out by desire. "We still have a lot of territory to cover," she tried.

"Uh-huh - I know." He leaned forward, nibbled on her shoulder.

"Verbal territory, I meant." Her eyes slid shut.

"It'll wait."

"Till when? I have to get home at a reasonable hour. I have a shift at the clinic tomorrow."

"Hmm." He paused long enough to eyeball the nightstand clock. "You're right. It's getting late. The way I see it, we have two choices - finish our game of truth, or give a repeat performance of dare. Well, maybe not an exact repeat performance. A variation. Slower, more thorough, lengthier. But just as stimulating." He moved Devon's hair aside, kissed her neck, her throat. "Take your pick," he muttered against her skin.

Devon was having trouble breathing. "We can play truth in the car," she reasoned aloud.

"Good point."

"And continue it on the phone."

"Right."

"And..." She had no idea what she was going to say next. Nor did she care.

"And...?" Blake prompted, raising his head and gazing at her, sparks of amber fire glinting in his eyes.

"And nothing."

His smile was darkly seductive. "So what's the verdict?"

Devon lay back against the pillows, reaching for Blake as she did. "Let's go for dare."

CHAPTER 20.

Monty and Lane were perched at the kitchen counter, drinking coffee, when Devon flew down the stairs the next morning. She was concentrating on twisting her still-damp hair into a French braid and simultaneously zipping up her boots, when she stumbled into the kitchen.

Spotting her brother and father, she came to a halt. "Hi." She noted their dour expressions, and her stomach knotted. "Is Mom okay?"

"She's fine," Lane a.s.sured her.

"Then why is Monty here at eight o'clock on a Sat.u.r.day morning? And why are you both glaring at your coffee like it's poison?"

"I'm running interference," Lane supplied.

"And I'm waiting for you." Monty set down his cup with a thud. "Have a late night?"

"Excuse me?"

"What time did you get in?"

"I already answered that one, Monty," Lane reminded him, looking more amused than annoyed. "Three seventeen. Give or take a minute."

"You time-stamped my arrival?" Devon asked in amazement.

"Hey, waiting up is what big brothers do."

"I don't believe this." Devon finished braiding her hair, then opened the cabinet and reached for a mug. "My daddy and my big brother lying in wait like a posse." She poured herself a cup of coffee. "Last time I checked, I was an adult. Has that changed without my knowledge?"

"Adults remember to call in," Monty stated flatly. "So do partners. Especially if that partner is the other partner's daughter, and she's been out with a guy who's key to their investigation."

A twinge of guilt intruded on Devon's irritation. "I meant to call. But as Lane pointed out, it was late. And this morning, I overslept."

"Yeah, well, you're not going anywhere until you tell me what went on last night."

"On that note, I'll leave you two alone." Polishing off his coffee, Lane rose and flashed Devon a wry grin. "I'd suggest omitting the sordid details. I don't think Monty's open-minded enough for that."

"Gee, thanks." Devon's glare was blistering. "Why is it I wanted you home again?"

"Because I keep life interesting." Lane tugged her braid and headed for the door. "Play nice, you two."

Devon watched him go, then turned back to her father. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Monty took a gulp of coffee. "And I didn't mean for you to get involved with Blake Pierson."

"I know. Neither did I." She sank down onto a stool. "I just have a few minutes. So let's get right down to what I learned. Blake knows I'm working with you. He also knows that you have doubts about Rhodes's death being tagged a suicide. In fact, he knows pretty much your whole MO on this case - with a few exceptions."

Monty's jaw tightened. "How?"

"Mostly by asking the right people the right questions, then drawing his own conclusions," Devon answered honestly. "The rest he got from me. I took a calculated risk. In my opinion, it paid off."

"This had better be good."

"It's bits and pieces of the puzzle, and securing a bunch of loose ends. Louise Chambers, for instance. She showed up at Blake's door while I was there. She's definitely angling for him. She turned green when she saw me. Blake sent her on her way. I grilled him. He's not involved with her. That doesn't mean she's not the killer. Although Blake doesn't think so." Devon filled Monty in on Blake's rationale.

"Same thoughts I had," Monty acknowledged. "Still, there's something about that woman...." A frustrated grunt. "I don't trust her as far as I can throw her. I'm not ready to cross her off the suspect list. She's a barracuda."

"I agree. Speaking of trust, Blake doesn't trust James any more than we do - although he's hesitant to slam him outright."

Monty's brows rose. "How much about James did you get into? Did you discuss the extortion?"

"No. That's one of the things I held back on. I knew from you that Blake was privy to the blackmail scheme. On the flip side, he wasn't sure how much I knew. He was waiting for me to broach the subject. I didn't. I needed your permission first."

Monty studied her intently. "You really trust this guy."

"In the ways that matter most, yes, I do."