After they’d ordered, she said, “Shauna was angry at me.”

“She wasn’t.”

“How do you know? She looked-”

“A little pissed. She was. But not at you. Her boyfriend. The guy you were talking to when you went down.”

“Rich?”

“Yeah, Rich.”

His tone made it clear he didn’t have a high opinion of the other man. They fell silent a moment. Finally Yvette cleared her throat. “He came up to me. I didn’t approach him.”

“I know. I saw.”

She gazed into her coffee, wondering if he had seen the way she had looked at Shauna-with yearning to have the things she had. With envy.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you know,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

“I knew he was with her, but I let him bring me a drink and-”

“He’s a dog, Yvette. Not a nice guy. I’ve told Shauna that. Tonight she saw it for herself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He frowned. “You say that a lot.”

“Don’t judge by tonight. I had reason to.”

“I disagree.”

She ignored that and reached for her water. “Besides, I’m sorry for her. I’ve been there. It hurts.”

“Yeah, it does.”

They fell silent. Yvette sipped her water and Riley gazed out the window. “What was all that about? With Spencer and Stacy?”

“Who?”

“The detectives. Spencer Malone and Stacy Killian.”

“You know them?”

“Sure. They’re old friends. Well, Spencer is. He’s Shauna’s brother.”

The “M.” Now she got it. Great.

“How do you know them?” he asked.

“A guy I knew was murdered. They questioned me.”

“About the murder?” His eyebrows shot up. “They don’t think you had any-”

“Anything to do with it?” She shook her head. “No, nothing like that. I occasionally showed real estate for him. They wanted names of business partners, stuff like that.”

“You’re talking about Marcus Gabrielle, aren’t you?”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “How did you know?”

“They questioned June and me. Gabrielle was listing some property for us. We knew him because he was one of our clients.”

“Small town.”

“And a lot smaller since the storm.”

The waitress brought their food, big plates of greasy hash browns with onions and peppers, covered in cheese. He had two fried eggs and toast with his.

As they dug in, he asked, “So what was the deal? At the gallery you said something about seeing the woman who broke into your apartment?”

Yvette considered telling him she’d been confused, but decided on the truth instead.

She trusted him, though she didn’t know why. There was just something about him that inspired it.

She laid down her fork and leaned toward him. “A woman claiming to be my mother tricked my neighbor into giving her a key to my apartment. I caught the woman just as she was leaving, though I didn’t realize it.”

She quickly filled in the details, then added, “She was at your gallery tonight. She hugged Spencer and Stacy.”

“What did she look like?”

“Medium height and trim. Short reddish hair. Fiftyish.”

He took a forkful of the potatoes, expression thoughtful as he chewed and swallowed. “You’re talking about Aunt Patti. You have to be.”

“Aunt Patti?” she repeated, feeling as if she had been sucker-punched.

“She’s not really my aunt. She and June are practically lifelong friends. She’s Spencer’s aunt and also his captain.”

“She’s a cop?”

He smiled at her incredulous tone. “A highly respected and, I might add, somewhat feared captain.”

What the hell was going on? What were they up to?

“There’s no way she broke into your apartment,” Riley added.

“It was her, I know it.”

He shrugged. “The Patti O’Shay I know lives and dies by the book, though I could ask June-”

“No, don’t.” She shook her head. “In fact, forget I said anything. You’re probably right. I’d had too much wine and wasn’t thinking clearly.”

He leaned forward. “So how are you going to find the woman who sneaked into your apartment?”

She already had. Captain Patti O’Shay was in for a very big surprise.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Maybe I never will and that’s okay.”

“Be careful, Yvette. There are some crazy, dangerous people out there.”

And their being cops made them even more dangerous.

“I will,” she promised. “Believe me, I will.”

35

Sunday, May 6, 2007

9:25 a.m.

Yvette awakened feeling really good. Refreshed. Happy. She smiled and stretched, thinking of Riley and the weird events of the night before.

She had invited him up. They had talked until late. Talked-and nothing else.

He hadn’t expected sex. Hadn’t pushed or pouted when she didn’t initiate.

Though he had kissed her when they said goodbye. It’d been long and deep-and had totally turned her on.

She wanted to let herself like him. Wanted to trust all her first impressions of him: that he was genuine and kind, a true gentleman. That he really liked her.

Don’t be an idiot, Yvette. Too good to be true is just that-too good to be true.

Yvette climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth. That done, she went to the kitchen for a Coke. She popped the can’s top and took a long swallow of the sweet, fizzy drink.

Breakfast of champions. Her personal power drink.

She saw that the message light on her cell phone was blinking, snatched up the device and checked the ID. Tonya’s number, she saw. She had called the night before. After 1:00 a.m. Yvette dialed voice mail, then punched in her password.

“It’s me. He was here tonight. I’ve got a plan. Call me on my cell as soon as you get this. Bye.”

Yvette deleted the message, then dialed the woman back. The call rolled into voice mail, which didn’t surprise her. Anything before noon was early for someone who worked until 2:00 a.m.

“Hi, Tonya,” Yvette said. “Got your message. What did you do? How did he react when he learned I wasn’t there? Call me.”

She pocketed the phone, then shuffled to the living room and plopped onto the couch. She sipped her drink, recalling what Riley had told her: The woman who had broken into her apartment was a cop. A captain.

Captain Patti O’Shay. Spencer Malone’s aunt.

What had she been up to? Did it have something to do with Marcus and their investigation into his drug business?

She tried Tonya once more, unsurprised when voice mail picked up again. “I forgot to mention, I have stuff to tell you, too. I know the identity of the woman who broke into my place. She’s a cop! Call me.”

She ended the call, thoughts returning to Riley. She really did like him. And for today, if she wanted to delude herself that he felt the same about her, she would. And have a great time doing it, too.

She leapt to her feet, deciding to start right away.

Yvette enjoyed her day. She shopped at the French Market, poked in and out of stores on Royal Street, enjoyed beignets and coffee at Café du Monde. All the while, she kept her cell phone close, waiting for Tonya to call and hoping Riley would.

She was disappointed on both counts.

She didn’t stress too much about Tonya’s lack of response. She would see her at the Hustle tonight. But she had so badly wanted Riley to call. She had thought after that kiss, he would.

He had found out what kind of dancer she was.

It would have been easy. A call to his friends Killian and Malone. She wouldn’t hear from him again, she realized. She might as well move on now.

Even as she told herself it was no big deal, she acknowledged that it hurt.

In the hopes of having time to talk to Tonya, Yvette arrived at the Hustle thirty minutes early. “Hi, Dante,” she said, greeting the bleached-blond steroid-bloated bouncer.