This time around, it was Officers Peña and Williams who had shown up on our doorstep.
And it was Anne Lucas who sent them my way. That fucking bitch.
I’d had to cut my appointment with Blaire Ash short, knowing it was unavoidable that the designer would pass the officers in the lobby when he exited the private elevator. I didn’t have time to worry about what he’d make of that. Instead, I took the brief time alone to call Raúl and tell him to find Arash Madani. I wanted to call Gideon, but he was with Dr. Petersen and I considered that more important. I could handle the police. I knew the basics: Have an attorney present and be succinct. Don’t elaborate or offer information not asked for.
Setting the three mugs of coffee on a serving tray, I searched for something to pour the half-and-half into.
“You don’t have to go to any trouble, Ms. Tramell,” Officer Peña said as he and his partner entered the kitchen with their hats tucked under their arms.
Peña had a baby face that made him look younger than he probably was, which I guessed was close to my age. Williams was a petite, curvy black woman, with sharp cop eyes that told me she’d seen things I would never want to.
I’d asked them to wait in the living room and they had followed me instead. That made me feel hunted, which I’m sure was part of their intention.
“It’s no trouble.” I gave up trying to be classy about the half-and-half and just set the carton on the island. “And I’m waiting for my attorney to arrive, so there’s really not much else for me to do in the meantime.”
Officer Williams eyed me coolly, as if she were wondering why I felt the need for counsel.
I didn’t have to justify myself but knew it wouldn’t hurt to let them know why I was cautious. “My dad’s on the job in California. He’d chew me out if I didn’t follow his advice.”
I grabbed the box of sugar I’d dug out of the pantry and set it on the tray before moving it all over to the island.
“Where in California?” Peña asked, grabbing a mug and taking his coffee black.
“Oceanside.”
“San Diego area, right? Nice.”
“It is, yes.”
Williams took her coffee with a splash of half-and-half and a whole lot of sugar, which she poured straight from the box. “Is Mr. Cross here?”
“He’s in a meeting.”
She kept her gaze on me as she lifted her mug to her lips. “Who was the guy leaving when we came up?”
The deliberate casualness of her tone made me glad I’d sent word to Arash. I didn’t believe for a minute that the question was just small talk. “Blaire Ash. He’s the interior designer working on some renovations we’re doing.”
“You live here?” Peña asked. “We stopped by an apartment on the Upper West Side we heard was yours.”
“I’m in the process of moving in.”
He leaned into the island and looked around. “Nice place.”
“I think so, too.”
Williams caught my eye. “Have you been dating Gideon Cross long?”
“She’s married to me, actually,” Gideon said, appearing in the doorway.
Peña straightened, swallowing quickly. Williams set her mug down with enough force to spill some coffee.
Gideon’s gaze swept over all of us, then locked with mine. He looked perfect, his suit pristine, his tie immaculately knotted, his dark hair framing that savagely beautiful face. There was the faintest shadow of stubble around his sensual mouth. That, and the sexy length of his hair, lent a dangerous edge to his otherwise civilized appearance.
Not even the two cops standing between us could diminish the surge of hunger that flooded me at the sight of him.
I watched as he came toward me, shrugging out of his suit jacket as if it were the most natural thing to have two of New York’s finest there to question me. He tossed it over the back of a bar stool at the island and moved beside me, taking my coffee out of my hands and pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Gideon Cross,” he said, extending his hand to both officers. “And this is our counsel, Arash Madani.”