Forbidden Lover

“I’m surprised, given the level of publicity it’s received,” Mary Alice said. “But then, I guess you haven’t been in town all that long, and things have recently died down a bit.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but just then, Russell Quay, another anthropology professor and member of the FAHIL staff, hurried over and tapped her on the shoulder.

Mary Alice turned, automatically plastering a smile on her lovely face. “Russell! I haven’t seen you all evening. Where’ve you been hiding, you handsome devil, you?”

The diminutive professor beamed up at her, obviously smitten, and when Mary Alice bent to say something to him, putting her “attributes” at his eye level, Erin thought he might faint dead away.

After a moment, Mary Alice excused herself, and her admirer turned anxiously to follow her with his gaze. Behind his thick, bottlelike glasses, his eyes looked dazed and slightly guilty, like a kid who’d purloined his father’s Penthouse.

“Dr. Quay?”

He turned, startled, as if he hadn’t seen Erin standing there. His face flushed a deep, mottled red, and he muttered something under his breath, quickly whirling away to run headlong into a uniformed server carrying a heavy, silver tray of canapés. Somehow the young woman managed to keep her balance, and after a bit of two-stepping, Russell darted around her and disappeared into the crowd.

“The poor man is obviously sexually deprived,” Lois Childers, an archaeology professor, commented wryly as she ambled up beside Erin. “That’s the kind you have to watch out for, you know. Their frustrations sometimes manifest themselves in very disturbing ways.”

“You sound as if you’ve had some experience,” Erin remarked mildly. Lois was a tall woman, in her early forties, with handsome features and a raspy, sexy voice deepened even more so by her chain smoking. Her auburn hair was shoulder length and blunt cut in a Cleopatra style that highlighted her angular cheekbones. Tonight she wore a gold brocade suit that made her seem positively regal as she gazed upon the proceedings with airy disdain.

“I’ve known my share of head cases,” she blithely admitted. “I’d watch out for Russell if I were you.”

Erin glanced at her in surprise. “Why?”

Lois shrugged. “He thought he would be the one put in charge of FAHIL. Dean Stanton gave him every indication that he would be, then suddenly—” she snapped her fingers “—here you are.”

“I didn’t know,” Erin said, although it was hardly a surprise. Universities were as competitive as multinational corporations. Her appointment was bound to cause some hostility. “I don’t know Dr. Quay all that well, but he doesn’t seem threatening.”

“Well, hell,” Lois said, eyeing Erin over the rim of her wineglass. “Neither do many serial killers.” She paused. “I’ll lay you two to one odds that the little general is still a virgin. His mommy keeps him on too tight a leash.”

“His mommy?”

Lois snorted. “Didn’t you know? Russell still lives with his mother. He asked me to dinner once and the old bag had to come along with us. Do you remember the mother in Throw Momma from the Train?” When Erin admitted she did, Lois nodded grimly. “Well, then, you’ve got the picture.”

“You’ve dated Russell Quay?” Erin hadn’t meant to sound so incredulous, but a more unlikely couple she couldn’t imagine.

“Well, hell,” Lois said. “I’m not getting any younger, and besides, in case you haven’t noticed, the pickings on campus aren’t exactly prime. We can’t all have tall, dark, handsome detectives traipsing through our offices.”

Erin froze. How had Lois known about Detective Gallagher?

Almost casually, she said, “So, who have you been talking to?”

Lois smiled mysteriously. “I have my sources.”

“This is serious, Lois. If there’s a leak at FAHIL—” Lois rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Lighten up, Erin. A good-looking man causes talk. I saw him coming out of your office and I asked Gloria who he was. She obviously had the hots for him herself.”

Gloria Maynard hadn’t exactly overwhelmed Erin with her competence and trustworthiness, and now to hear that she’d been talking about a visitor to the lab, even to Lois, did not bode well for their future working relationship. Erin would have to speak to her secretary at once, warn her to be especially discreet where FAHIL was concerned.

Still, Lois was right. A good-looking man did cause talk, and Nick Gallagher was nothing if not good-looking. An image of him flashed through Erin’s mind, and she felt that same flutter of nerves in her stomach that she’d experienced upon meeting him. She told herself again it wasn’t attraction. She had some sort of sixth sense about the man. Some internal alarm warning her that he meant trouble.

Lois gave her a smug look. “I’ll lay you ten to one odds that man doesn’t live with his mother.”

No, Erin thought. For all she knew, he lived with his wife. Or his lover.

That notion gave her another odd feeling, making her stomach tremble even more, and she took a sip of her wine, trying to chase away the unfamiliar sensation.

“And I can tell you without a doubt, he’s no virgin,” Lois declared.

Erin gave her an amused glance. “Without a doubt? You know, of course, that implies a certain knowledge of the fact.”

Lois gave a sensual wince. “Don’t I wish. That dark hair with those blue eyes…that body…” She shuddered. “He’d be an incredible lover.”

Erin’s amusement evaporated, and she became annoyed with the conversation, although she couldn’t say why exactly. “Just because he’s good-looking—”

“It’s more than that,” Lois declared. “When you get to be my age, you have a certain instinct for men. It’s like a radar. You know almost immediately the ones who’ll remember your birthday, the ones who’ll be nice to your mother. The ones who’ll be good in bed,” she added with a sly smile.

“And you think Detective Gallagher would be nice to your mother?” Erin couldn’t help asking.

“Honey chile, my dear ole mother would drool all over him,” Lois drawled, mimicking Erin’s Southern accent.

“Would he remember your birthday?”

Lois gave that a moment’s consideration. “No,” she said finally. “He’s not the type of man who would remember a woman’s birthday. But he’d sure as hell know how to make it up to her.”

ERIN STEPPED OUT onto the portico of the dean’s house a few minutes later, breathing a sigh of relief that she’d finally made good her escape. Then she paused as her gaze lit on a man lurking on the sidewalk across the street. He stood beneath the limbs of a giant elm, his face filtered from the streetlight, and for a moment, Erin’s heart started to race. Had he followed her here? Had he been standing there all evening, waiting for her to come out? If so, why?

An image of the skeletal remains of Case 00-03, locked tight in her lab, flashed through Erin’s head, and panic bloomed inside her. Just as she turned to go back inside the house, the man stepped into the street, leaving the shadows behind, and Erin recognized him. She felt relief and anxiety all at once, and her heart continued to pound as she watched Detective Gallagher cross the street and head up the flower-lined walkway.

He’d be an incredible lover.

Erin cursed herself for lingering as long as she had over that conversation with Lois, because now she couldn’t get the woman’s observations concerning Detective Gallagher out of her head.

Honestly, Erin told herself irritably. Whether the man was Don Juan himself had no bearing on her dealings with him.

And I can tell you without a doubt, he’s no virgin.

Brilliant, Erin thought dryly. It didn’t exactly take a Nobel prize winner in genetic engineering to reach that conclusion. Anyone who had gazed into those baby blues would have deduced that much in two seconds flat, even a forensic anthropologist whose sexual exploits—and it was being extremely imaginative to use that term—were few and far between.

When he drew near her, his steps faltered for one split second before he approached her. “Dr. Casey?”

“Yes.”

“I almost didn’t recognize you.” His gaze swept over her, taking in her loose, flowing hair and the clingy fabric of her tunic and pants. The look on his face made Erin grow almost breathless.

“H-how did you know I’d be here?” she said, wincing inwardly at the stammer.

“Your secretary told me.”

Gloria again. Not only did the woman talk too much, she wasn’t above selling out her boss in order to gain the favor of an attractive man.

Well, who could blame her? a little voice jeered as Erin’s gaze slipped over Detective Gallagher in the dim light. He’d shed the sport coat and slacks he’d worn earlier in favor of jeans and a cotton T-shirt which melded very nicely to his muscular torso. Erin was beginning to appreciate a little more than just his bone structure, she realized. Perhaps she hadn’t given enough credit in the past to toned muscles and tanned skin.

And now you sound just like Lois, that same little voice taunted her.

Well, hell, Erin thought, wrapping her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.

“Are you ready to go?” His gaze flicked over her again, as if he still wasn’t quite convinced she was the woman he’d been expecting.

Erin knew she should be flattered, but for some reason she wasn’t. Had her appearance been that lacking earlier?

And so what if it had? Why should she care what Detective Gallagher, or anyone else, thought of her looks? Erin had never been a vain person. There had always been so many more interesting pursuits with which to occupy her time. She didn’t even like to shop. She’d ordered the outfit she had on tonight via the Internet, not having concerned herself for more than a minute with the fit, color, or fabric.

Judging by Detective Gallagher’s reaction, the selection was a success, and Erin felt herself growing even more agitated the longer he stared at her.

She pushed back her hair. “I’ll need to go home and change first. Then I’ll have to go by the lab and pick up my equipment.”

“Fine. I’ll drive you.”

Erin started to tell him she had her own car, but then she remembered that she’d walked the few blocks from her garage apartment to the dean’s house, not wanting to be bothered with parking on the narrow street. It had still been daylight then, but now that it was dark and growing cool, she didn’t relish walking home alone. She shrugged. “Thanks. I’d appreciate the ride.”

They started down the marble steps together, and he took her elbow. An old-fashioned, courtly gesture that Erin suspected had been drummed into him by his mother. But for some reason, his touch seemed intimate and knowing, as if he were all too aware of Erin’s reaction to him.

I’ve been in the lab too long, she thought almost in panic, if my insides turn to jelly by the mere touch of an attractive man.

But Ed Dawson’s touch hadn’t affected her that way, Erin reminded herself. Quite the contrary, the feel of his hand on hers had been almost repugnant, and his age had nothing to do with it. She’d always been attracted to older men, and Dawson had the same timeless appeal as Sean Connery. Yet Erin’s instincts had been wary of him from the first and she didn’t know why.

She wondered what Nick Gallagher thought of his mother dating the superintendent of the police department. Did that pave the way for him and his brothers to rise in the ranks?

Erin had an instinct for Nick Gallagher, too, and she didn’t think he was the type of person who would ride another’s coattails. He was restless, driven, almost dogmatic, she suspected, when battling for a cause he believed in. And God help anyone who got in his way.

She shivered as his grasp on her tightened almost imperceptibly when they reached the end of the walkway and he guided her toward his car. “This way.”

He dropped his hand from her elbow, and Erin experienced that same sense of relief and anxiety she’d felt earlier. What was it about him that kept her so off center? She hadn’t felt this way, at least not so quickly, even when she’d fallen madly in love with one of her professors her first year of college. The affair had been disastrous, naturally, because he’d been older and wiser and, she’d discovered too late, married.

A wave of shame washed over her at the memory, but Erin tried to shove it to the farthest recesses of her mind. No use crying over spilt milk, her mother had always told her.

Detective Gallagher opened the door of his car, and Erin slid inside, admiring the smell and feel of the leather seats. The sports car was an import, not one of the more expensive ones, but low-slung and fast just the same. He climbed in on the other side and started the powerful engine, glancing in the rearview mirror before pulling away from the curb.

The interior of the car was dark and close, the glow from the dash casting only the faintest of light on his features. He barely glanced at her, but seemed deeply preoccupied by his own thoughts. Was he thinking about the remains they would excavate in the morning? Was he wondering about the identity?

Was he keeping something from her? Erin wondered uneasily.

They spoke very little on the way to her place, and once he’d parked on the street near her garage apartment, Erin debated on whether she should invite him up. Better not, she decided, remembering her conversation with Lois. Best to keep their time together on a strictly business level.

“I’ll just be a moment,” she told him.

She opened her door, and the bright light seemed to catch them both by surprise. Their eyes met, and for the longest moment, Erin remained still, mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze. Finally he said, “I appreciate the way you rearranged your schedule.”

She shrugged. “No problem. This is what I do.”

He smiled faintly. “A bone detective.”

The smile sent a shiver of awareness racing up her spine. “That’s right.”

“I hope you can work your magic for me, Dr. Casey.”

She lifted a brow. “Don’t you mean for your friend? The county sheriff you mentioned?”

His blue gaze flickered. “Yeah. Sure. If you can identify those remains, you’ll be doing us both a big favor.”

“I’ll identify the remains,” Erin told him confidently. She climbed out of the car and glanced back at him. “But I still believe there’s a lot more to this case than you’ve told me.”

His smile vanished. “I’ve told you everything you need to know,” he said coolly. “You do your job, Dr. Casey, and I’ll do mine.”

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