“I appreciated his candor.” She turned the wheel. Gravel crunched under the tires as the car circled the parking area and nosed onto the long driveway.

“He appreciated you, that’s for sure,” Mac grumbled.

Stella lifted her brows in surprise. “Did that bother you?”

“Maybe.”

She grinned. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was just trying to butter him up. He’s not my type.”

“Really?” Mac perked up.

“Really.” She glanced over at him. “Why?”

Mac caught her gaze and held it. “Maybe I want it to be my business.”

“Josh Randolph is intelligent and good-looking, but he’s too passive for me. I come from three generations of cops. Men I date tend to be less . . . beta.” She brought the car to a stop at the intersection with the main road. “Not that I’ve dated anyone recently.”

Blood warming, Mac reached over the computer mounted on the dashboard. He hooked a hand behind her neck and pulled her closer. Their lips met, but a quick taste of her wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He tightened his grip, cupping the back of her head and tilting it for a better angle. Her mouth opened, and her tongue played with his. The soft moan in her throat made him want to drag her over the console and into his lap.

There was nothing passive about Stella. She met him quip for quip, heat for heat. When she lifted her hand and rested it on the center of his chest, right over his thudding heart, desire speared him to his core.

He wanted her.

Mac eased his mouth off hers. She licked her lips, and he wanted to do the same. The intensity of his desire for her sent a wave of uncertainty through him. His longing for Stella wasn’t just sex. He liked talking to her. He liked sitting in comfortable silence with her. Simply being in her presence soothed him.

He’d never imagined having what Grant had with Ellie. Mac had always assumed he’d be a lifelong bachelor. Being part of a couple required trust, a give-and-take he’d never considered possible.

Now he wondered.

But would it be fair to Stella? He was a work-in-progress who was supposed to be heading back to a job in Brazil.

Stella’s phone buzzed, breaking the connection between them. Clearing her throat, she answered the call, “Detective Dane.”

Her hand curled into a fist and thudded on the steering wheel. “Where? OK. I’m on my way. ETA fifteen minutes.”

She turned to Mac; anger, frustration, and tears shone in her eyes. “A dog walker just found Dena Miller in Bridge Park. She’s dead.”

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty