Cavanaugh Strong. Marie Ferrarella
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unflattering nickname sounded like something an irreverent journalist would slap on an elusive perpetrator, not a label the police would put on one of their own.
“What are you talking about?” Duncan had demanded, confused.
Holloway had looked at him, obviously enjoying the fact that for once he was the one in the know while Duncan was still in the dark.
Grinning broadly, the detective had laughed, “You really don’t know, man?”
Duncan enjoyed being challenged. Teased, however, was a different matter and he had little patience with it. Curbing what could be a flash temper on occasions, he replied as coolly as he could, “I wouldn’t be asking if I knew.”
The other man had smirked, no doubt enjoying the moment and drawing it out for as long as he could. “You ask me, it’s nature’s way of protecting its own.”
“What is nature’s way of protecting its own?” he’d asked through teeth that were clearly gritted.
Holloway had leaned in, though he still failed to lower his voice. “Well, rumor has it she’s been engaged twice.”
“Twice,” Duncan had echoed while looking at the woman who at that moment was meeting with the head of the vice department, Lieutenant Stewart Jamieson, before being brought out to meet the rest of them.
The grapevine, in the guise of Duncan’s older brother, Brennan, had alerted him to the name of his new partner. But Brennan failed to provide certain other pertinent details. If it didn’t interest Brennan, he just naturally assumed that it didn’t interest anyone else, either.
“She broke it off?” Duncan had guessed.
Holloway had shaken his head, looking like the proverbial cat that had gotten into the cream. “Nope, she didn’t have to. They both died. She didn’t even get to walk up to the altar once.” Pausing dramatically, Holloway had given it to the count of two before adding, “The first one left her pregnant.”
Because he belonged to an extended family that could have easily acquired its own zip code, Duncan’s interest had gone up a notch. “She has kids?”
“Kid,” Holloway had corrected, holding up his forefinger. “One.”
“A daughter. Her name’s Melinda. She’s almost six. Anything else you want to know?” a melodious low voice coming from directly behind him had said, completing the information.
Duncan had turned his chair around a hundred and eighty degrees to face her. Up close the energy had almost crackled between them. He would have had to have been dead not to notice. Just like he would have had to be dead not to notice her delicate, heart-shaped face, her soul-melting green eyes and her flaming red hair. But what got to him most of all was the killer figure that no clothes could adequately hide. He had a feeling that somewhere, in some huge ledger in the sky, he had just been put on notice. His number had finally come up.
Still, he managed to sound unaffected as he calmly asked, “Yeah, where do you buy your shoes, because I didn’t hear you come up.”
She’d glanced down at her footwear. Not knowing exactly what was expected on her first day in “the big leagues” as Lucy had referred to it, she’d worn her most attractive high heels. Wearing heels always secretly boosted her self-confidence.
“This is just a guess,” she’d said drily, “but I don’t think that you’d look that good wearing four-inch heels.”
“I make it a point never to rule out anything without giving it a fair shot,” he’d told her gamely, then rose to his feet as he put out his hand. “Duncan Cavanaugh,” he said, introducing himself. “I take it that I’m your new partner.”
Jamieson had pointed him out to her, then had to stop to answer a phone call. She’d decided to do the honors herself and dive into her first day here.
“I know,” she had replied.
“And your name is?” Duncan had asked, thinking it only polite to pretend that he didn’t know as much as he did about her—including the information that Holloway had just given him.
Holloway was retreating to his own desk. She had nodded in his direction. “Your friend there didn’t tell you?” Noelle had asked.
Duncan remembered grinning. His new partner was quick. He liked that. “He skipped that part.”
The two men had appeared to be deep in conversation when she’d approached them. Being the new kid on the block, she’d just assumed that they’d been talking about her. Duncan’s answer had made her doubt her assessment. It also made her wonder just what they had been discussing. The other man had glanced in her direction three times in that short length of time.
Taking Cavanaugh’s hand, she told him, “It’s Noelle O’Banyon.”
Duncan had nodded as if taking in the information for the first time. “You were born on Christmas?” he’d asked. He couldn’t recall hearing a woman called that name before.
“As a matter of fact—no.”
It seemed like a logical assumption from where he stood. “Oh.”
“I was born on Easter Sunday,” she deadpanned.
Duncan had stared at her for a second. He would have wondered if she was putting him on except that she looked so sincere when she’d said that. The woman had to have really out-there parents.
“You’re kidding.”
She’d laughed, dropping the ruse. “Actually, I am. It was just a name. I’m not even sure if either one of my parents picked it, or if maybe some hospital attendant suggested it.”
That had an uncanny sad ring to it. Was she pulling his leg again? He couldn’t tell. “Well, either way, it’s intriguing.”
“If you say so,” she’d said.
And so began their dance of words. Over the past six months, they’d each gained a healthy respect for the other’s skills and knowledge.
They also got as close as they could as partners given that one partner held the other at arm’s length, Duncan now thought, watching her approach.
But maybe, he concluded as Noelle slid into her seat behind the desk that faced his, that was ultimately all to the good. He’d never had a relationship with a woman that had lasted beyond a month.
Most had had a shorter lifespan. If his interaction with Noelle had gotten serious during off-duty hours, then gone sour, that would, in turn, have laid them both open to absolute months of awkwardness.
If not longer.
No, he told himself perhaps a little too firmly for what felt like the umpteenth time, what they had going on between them now was definitely the better way to go.
He ignored the little voice inside his head that whispered, Sour grapes.
“Morning, Sunshine,” Duncan quipped.
Noelle raised her eyes to meet his. Given that she had sat down a few minutes ago and she assumed that Cavanaugh had taken note of that as well as seen her enter the squad room, the greeting he’d just offered seemed a little out of place or, at the very least, rather belated.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked him.
She watched as her partner’s broad shoulders rose and fell in a careless and yet somehow oddly sensual shrug. What the hell was she doing, noticing how broad his shoulders were? What was the matter with her? The size of his shoulders wasn’t remotely important here. And yet, she couldn’t make herself look away. Couldn’t make the strange, tightening feeling in her stomach disappear.
“Nothing,” he replied, “just my small attempt to get