30

Iwas awakenedby a kiss on the cheek, my enchanting prince dressed in jeans and a blue T-shirt, with a plastic-wrapped, laundered set of blue scrubs draped over his shoulder. He was holding a cup of coffee.

“Good grief.” I sat up and pulled the covers over my breasts. “What time is it?”

“A little after ten.” He offered me the mug. “For you.”

I took the coffee and sipped. “Good stuff. Ethiopian. I know because a friend of mine bought me a pound.”

“There’s more where this came from. Plus, toast, juice, and the paper. But alas, you’ll have to eat alone. I must go to work.”

I rubbed my eyes and noticed Koby’s. Like sparkling Tokay. Finally, the brilliance was back. “Did you sleep well?”

“With you by my side, I slept with the angels. And yourself?”

“Great. I was knocked out.” I sipped more coffee, glancing around his tiny bedroom. It had a king-size bed, one nightstand with a phone and a clock, and a small closet with a mirror. No TV, because there was no room. Sunlight was streaming through the sheer curtains, the windows looking out to the rose garden. In actual size, the house was as small as my apartment. But with the homey factor, it wasn’t even close. “I’ll be leaving shortly.”

“Take your time.” He pulled something metallic out of his pocket and dropped it on my lap. “Lock up when you leave.”

A key. “Should I put it in the mailbox?”

“You can keep it. Use it with or without me. My house is close to your work. If you ever need a quick nap, the place will serve your purpose.”

I met his eyes. “I don’t know, Koby. This is a little rushed, maybe?”

“If you don’t want it, put it in the mailbox.” He sat beside me, laying his plastic-wrapped scrubs on the floor. “You say for me to show you I’m interested. Now maybe you believe me.”

“I meant responding to my phone calls, not moving-” I stopped myself. Talk about slips of the tongue. Now who needed to take it easy? But my first thoughts had been, If I lived here, where would I put my clothes?

Koby broke into a slow smile. “I think I ammadfor you, Cynthia.” He caressed my arm. “I think it scares me… how much I am mad for a woman.”

Men and their emotions.I gave him an out. “Don’t worry. You barely know me.”

“I know how I feel. I knew it when I first saw you. I felt it in the heart. I felt it other places as well.”

The bed was still redolent of pheromones. “We do have chemistry.”

He kissed my bare shoulder. “We have passionate colors.” His hand snaked under the covers. “Black and red, a lethal combination.”

I gasped. “I thought you were going to work.”

“That’s what I am doing.” He slipped his fingers between my legs. “I am going to work.”

“Work as in a job.” I was desperately trying not to be so damn wet under his touch. I was failing miserably. “Salaried work.”

“Ah, but this issomuch better.”

I pulled his hand away. “You’ll be late.”

“You are very cruel,” he told me.

Much nicer than saying,You know you want it bad, bitch.My eyes went down to his crotch, then up to his expectant face. He raised his eyebrows. He was waiting for a sign.

I smiled.

His clothes were off in thirty seconds. Fifteen minutes after that, he was dressed again. He eyed me in bed and I saw him grow. “I am like a schoolboy.” He checked his watch and frowned. “As frustrated as one, too.”

“It’ll go away as soon as you pull into the hospital parking lot.”

“No doubt.” He started to sit next to me, then thought better of it. He picked up the scrubs. “Can we see each other tonight?”

“I get off late.”

“So we’ll sleep in tomorrow.”

“I can’t,” I said. “I have to go to a lecture with my mother at nine in the morning.”

“Lecture on what?”

“Art history or something. Mom’s doing a master’s. She’s an eternal student. But I promised I’d go with her. I dare not back out.”

“I defer toKibud Aim-honoring one’s mother. Tomorrow night?”

I nodded. “That’ll work.”

“Do I get to meet her? Your mother?”

“Yes… when the time’s right.”

“You said that with hesitancy. She won’t approve of me?”

“We’ll find out. She professes to be liberal, but you’re the first black man I’ve ever dated.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He kissed my forehead, brushing hair from my eyes. “As long as you approve.” He lifted up my chin and brought my lips to his. He kissed me softly. Then again, and again. He sighed, then kissed me again. “Oh my God, I got itsobad!”

You and me both, hot stuff.But someone had to be mature. “Go. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Reluctantly, he stood. Wordlessly, he left. I waited until I heard the front door close before I got out of bed. I showered and dressed. Because it was a lovely morning, I put my coffee, juice, toast, and paper on a tray and brought the ensemble out to his rose garden, placing my breakfast on the small, round table, settling into a patio chair. The lot, like all of them in the area, had been cut into the mountains, so I was afforded a view of hillside homes and rooftops. There were houses below me, houses above me, and it was all very charming. I felt as if I were in the artist colony of Montmartre, the Paris neighborhood where the Moulin Rouge still stood. Blue was breaking from the clouds, and in the distance, I caught a glimpse of Silver Lake-truly silver in the muted light.

A good guy, fabulous sex, coffee and the paper while breathing in the aroma of perfumed flowers,anda lake view to boot.

I could get used to this.

But alas, I, too, had work to do. When I was finished, I took everything back inside and washed and cleaned up. I knew he kept kosher, so I opened his cabinets and drawers, and sure enough, he had two sets of dishes and two sets of flatware. I placed the ones I had used with their matching set.

I shut the front door and locked it.

I hefted the key several times, then slipped it in my purse.

?

I owed Scott Oliver in ways he hadn’t considered. Since we stopped seeing each other, I had avoided visiting my father at his work out of embarrassment. Now that Scott and I were on speaking terms, I could go see the Loo without fear of running into him. I knew that Oliver was a clotheshorse. While buying Koby a shirt, I had bought Scott a tie. He wasn’t in when I came into the Devonshire Detective squad room, so I put the bag on his desk with a thank-you note. Homicide sat in the back of the squad room, its own little fiefdom. I hoped to be a full-fledged member one day, but for now I’d have to be content with vicarious thrills, knowing most of the gold shields here, and knowing that my father was in charge.

I made small talk with a few folks, then left them alone to do their job. I went to pester my father. His door was open. He always kept it open unless he was in conference. Protocol dictated that I knock, so I did. He was on the phone, taking notes, and when he heard the rap, he looked up and gave me five splayed fingers. I mouthed for him to take his time.

“Hold on,” the Loo said. To me sotto voce, “Come in and close the door.” To his caller, “Yeah, I’m here, go ahead.”

I closed the door and sat down across from him, watching him chicken scratch on a yellow notepad. “That’s not going to work, Alicia, especially with Malcolm Standish. He’s a stickler. Look, rather than bring the case to the grand jury and risk a dismissal, it makes more sense for you to get warrants for the phone calls and bank accounts. Then I’ll have one of my people just go through the paperwork and see if we can’t get a more direct connection.”

More listening.

My father rolled his eyes. He had taken off his suit jacket and loosened a blue tie. He wore a white shirt and gray slacks. His hand made furrows through his hair. “Alicia, I’m telling you this from twenty-five years of experience, if you move too fast, you’re going to come away with nothing. We’ve got a good start. Don’t force it, it’ll… Yes, exactly. Go to Standish and ask for the warrants. He’ll appreciate the attention to detail. He’s simpatico to these kinds of cases if you cross yourt’s and dot youri’s… Yeah, specifically because we’re on the border. Yeah… yeah… okay… call me when you get the warrants, and I’ll go through the paper. Fine… fine… bye.”