from the office to run the vacuum, change the sheets, and unpack six months’ worth of dust-collecting moving boxes. He supposed nothing forced a man to tidy up like inviting a beautiful woman to dinner.
He reached for the doorknob, now grinning ear to ear, unapologetically excited to see Tanyalee. The last few days had seemed like months. He was dying to kiss her. He needed to feel her hot and smooth skin in his hands. He wanted to tell her that he’d missed her.
To hell with DEA regulations.
The door opened, and in an instant, his plans for an evening of lively debauchery were shot to hell.
Tanyalee raised sad and troubled eyes to him. Her brow was creased. She looked pale and so uncomfortable standing in his doorway that Dante immediately scanned her for visible wounds. “What happened?” He felt her arms beneath her coat. “Was there an accident? Are you hurt?”
She shrugged him off. “Oh, heavens no. I’m perfectly fine, Dante.” She produced a smile so dishonest it barely moved her pink lips.
“The hell you are.” He scooped her into the apartment with one arm and held the door with the other. “Here. Let me take your jacket.” Tanyalee shed her short trench coat and let her purse slide down her arm. As Dante hung them in the closet he told Tanyalee to make herself at home, but when he turned around she hadn’t moved. She stood rigid in the center of his small living room, hands stiff at her sides, looking lost.
“Please. Sit.”
“Oh! Thank you! I do apologize, I’m just a little tired.”
Dante sat on the couch and reached for Tanyalee’s hands, pulling her down into his lap. The woman now snuggled into the crook of his arm was as always, the picture of flawlessly groomed femininity. She wore a dusky pink blouse, more rose than seashell blush, he noticed, along with a creamy white skirt and pretty sandals. The usual pearls were there, along with her signature scent. And she wore her hair down tonight, draped over one shoulder in a collection of soft curls. But the shiny outside couldn’t mask the turmoil inside.
Tanyalee forced herself to look like she was thrilled to be there. “What a cute apartment you have! And something surely smells delicious.”
Dante took in the little divot between her brows, her inability to look him in the eye, and her unusually twitchy hands, and he knew he faced a dilemma. Should he pry? Did he even want to? Up until that moment, everything they’d shared could be classified into one of two categories: sexually charged or lighthearted. In other words, hot or fun. Or even hot and fun. And for Dante, that was pretty much the sweet spot for time spent with a woman, and it was never easy to come by. With Tanyalee, however, it had been instant and natural.
Why the hell would he want to fuck with perfection?
She sighed and continued to look around the room, feigning interest. Though she was talking about the “charming” exposed brick wall and “cozy” fireplace, he could see she was fighting back tears. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch her pretend, and he couldn’t pretend not to care.
“Tanyalee, tell me what’s going on.”
“What do you mean?” She pasted a vacant smile on her face, patting her hand against his chest as if to tell him not to worry his pretty little head. “I’ve just spent several hours at the mall with a tween, that’s all.”
Dante nodded, knowing he needed to proceed with care. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how’s it going with Fern Bisbee?”
Tanyalee’s head snapped back. She directed her unblinking gaze right at him. “Agent Cabrera.” She gave the words extra attention. “I realize you know Fern from that horrible meth lab. Is that what you want talk to her about? Something to do with what she saw there?”
Dante shrugged. “I can’t say. I’m sorry.”
“Hmm.” Tanyalee pursed her lips. “Well, Bitsy Stockslager told me all about her history, so I probably already know.”
When he remained silent, she tweaked his bicep.
“You remember Bitsy, of course—Turner Halliday’s secretary? I’m sure you’ve run into her doing all your law-and-order types of activities.”
Dante felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Law-and-order types of activities … “Of course. Bitsy. Yes.”
“Anyway, Bitsy runs the Girls Club after-school programs. She said that Fern really needs a friend she can talk to.”
“That’s awful nice of you, Tanyalee.” He waited. This was her chance to open up some. He already knew