“Where’s Lori?”

“She wasn’t feeling too terrific.” As the printer continued to rattle, Bess closed her eyes. “I told her I was leaving, too. Then I snuck back. I wanted to make a few changes for tomorrow.” She brought her hand up to one of his, skimming her fingers over it to the wrist. “You said you might have to work late.”

“Lead fizzled. We’ll work on tracing the heart necklace down, but that’s better during business hours.”

“Trace it down?”

“Hit the jewelers,” he explained, “see if we can track down to when it was bought. Long shot, but…”

“Do you think the heart has a personal meaning for him?”

“Like some woman broke his heart, so he gives them a symbol of it before he whacks them?” He gave a little grunt as he continued to knead her muscles. “It’s a little too obvious to dismiss. Psychiatric profile figures him as sexually inadequate on a normal level, so he pays for women to perform. He wants them and detests himself for that, as much as he detests them for being available. The fact that he goes through a short courtship routine shows that—” He broke off as she reached for a pad. “Hold on, McNee.” He gave her shoulders a hard squeeze. “I don’t know how you do it. One minute I’m thinking about getting you out of these clothes and the next you’ve got me talking about a case.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “No notes.”

Her fingers retreated from the pad, but with obvious reluctance. “I like hearing you talk about your work. I want you to be able to talk to me about anything.”

“Apparently I can. Even the stuff I don’t want you to hear. I’ve got a problem with you, Bess. You won’t let me tuck you into that nice safe corner where I want you to be.”

“You only think that’s where you want me to be.” Smiling, she tugged his hand around so that she could kiss it. “You like me right where I am.” Turning his hand over, she pressed her lips to his palm. “I’m going to stay there.”

She felt his fingers tense, then relax slowly as he spread them over her cheek. “I was watching you while you worked.”

A rippling thrill raced through her at the words and at the shimmer of desire she heard in them. “Were you?”

“And thinking.” His hands slid down over her breasts, sampled their weight, molded them. “Fantasizing.”

Her head fell back against the chair. Her breathing quickened. “About?”

“The things I’d like to do with you.” Through layers of silk, he caught her nipples, tugging gently. “To you.”

When she tried to shift in the chair to face him, he increased the pressure, held her still. Her dazzled eyes focused on the monitor. She could still see the ghost of herself there, and his hands moving. Sliding. Stroking.

Impossibly erotic to see, and to feel. Dry-mouthed, she watched his fingers undo her buttons and saw the dark shadow of his hair as he pressed a hot mouth to her throat. She lifted a hand, hooked it around his neck as she tilted her head to offer more.