Kara Lennox - One-Night Alibi

“Hudson! Over here!” A cool blonde in a pale turquoise dress waved madly at him.

Grateful not to have to wade through oceans of strangers trying to find someone he knew, he quickly made his way to an umbrella table where Dr. Claudia Ellison sat with her husband, Billy Cantu, a Houston cop.

Hudson hoped Claudia didn’t have matchmaking in mind for tonight.

She threw her arms around Hudson and kissed him on the cheek, a rather effusive show of affection from the normally reserved psychologist, but since his suspension she’d been trying extra hard to show him and everyone else that she was on his side.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“The cold’s gone.” He didn’t comment on anything else, because everything else sucked.

Billy stood and shook Hudson’s hand. “Glad you could make it.”

“I knew you’d want to see this place,” said Claudia. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“I guess. Listen, I’m going to find the bride and groom, pay my respects, then—”

Claudia put a melodramatic hand to her forehead. “No, you can’t leave so quickly. We haven’t even had a chance to catch up.”

“You don’t really want to know.”

“Of course I do.”

Billy pulled out a chair. “Have a beer. They got the biggest selection of microbrews I ever saw. Not that I’m really into designer beer, but this Dogfish Head Chicory Stout is pretty good stuff.”

“Look, y’all don’t have to be so nice. I’m not falling apart. I’ll get through this just like I’ve gotten through every other damn thing in my life, okay?”

Claudia waved away his diatribe with a careless hand. “Get over yourself. We’re not being any nicer than usual. Now sit down, shut up and drink heavily of free booze. Logan has limos lined up for anyone who overdoes it.”

Hudson was about to object again. That was when he saw her, the stunning brunette standing near the edge of the pool with a martini glass in her hand. She was tall, made taller still by silver stiletto heels. Her dress shimmered like liquid silver, clinging sinuously to her curves. Her black hair was piled on top of her head in an artfully casual way that had probably taken hours to achieve.

Hudson might not have paid her that much attention, except that she was looking right at him.

Without meaning to, he sank into the chair Billy had offered moments ago. Who is she? And why is she smiling at me like that?

“See something you like?” Billy asked.

Hudson forced himself to break the almost-hypnotic stare-off with the woman. Her eyes were a deep ocean-blue—he could tell even at this distance.

Claudia took an immediate interest in the object of his attention. “She’s a friend of Jillian’s, a sorority sister, I think. Can’t remember her name.”

Hudson stole another glance at her. She was on the move now. Walking. Toward him.

Billy punched him on the arm. “Dude, she’s coming over here.”

And she did. She came right to their table, striding boldly like a runway model. But she switched her gaze from Hudson to Claudia. “Hi, you’re Claudia, right? I remember you from the bridal shower. I’m...Liz.”

“Hi, Liz, it’s good to see you again.”

“Would you all mind if I joined you? My date seems to have gone missing.”

“Sure, here’s a chair,” Billy said, nearly spilling his special beer as he pulled out the fourth chair for her. A waiter stopped by to see who needed drinks, and Billy insisted he bring Hudson a Fishhead, or whatever the hell the beer was called.

Hudson would have objected. But the woman had so gobsmacked him, he’d been struck speechless.

“This is my husband, Billy,” Claudia said, “and our friend Hudson.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Hudson said with his best polite Southern-boy manners.

The brunette took a sip of her martini, then somehow fished the olive out with just her tongue in a way that was totally sexy and classy at the same time.

Hudson’s mouth went dry.

When the waiter brought his beer, he chugged down a third without even tasting it.

“You knew Jillian in college?” Claudia asked, trying to get the conversation rolling.

Hudson wasn’t that interested in conversation. He just wanted to look at Liz, though her voice was a pleasing blend of smooth honey over six miles of rough road.

“I did, but we weren’t good friends until more recently when we worked on a charity event together.”

So, Liz obviously came from high society. Ivy League college, sorority, charity events. She oozed class. So not his type. Or rather, not the type who gave a sheriff’s-department detective a second look. A suspended detective, accused somewhat convincingly of police brutality.

So why was she staring at him?

“Have we met?” he asked bluntly.

“I don’t think so. I’d remember.”

Then she’d probably seen his picture in the paper or on TV. His case had drawn much too much unwanted publicity. The Mandalay name had a lot of cachet in the Houston area.

Claudia gasped. “Oh, Billy, I love this song. Let’s dance.”

Hudson recognized a ploy to leave him and Liz alone, but he didn’t object. He’d just keep staring at her until she got tired of it. It wasn’t as if he had anything to lose. He’d probably never see her again after this night.

“How about it, Hudson. Want to dance?” Liz raised one eyebrow playfully.

“Me? Not much of a dancer.”

“Oh, come on. Anybody can dance.”

“Sure, right.” He let her drag him to his feet. What the hell. Didn’t matter, really, in the grand scheme of things, and holding her in his arms didn’t sound like such a bad deal. All he had to do was move his feet a little, or at least pretend to try to dance.

A parquet floor had been laid out over the flagstone patio for dancing in the shadow of the band, which had switched from country-western to big band. Hudson dredged up some long-ago memories of a ballroom dance class he’d taken to please an old girlfriend. He’d forgotten her name, but maybe he could at least remember how to get into hold.

He took Liz into his arms. As other couples twirled and dipped around him, he shuffled his feet back and forth.

Amazingly, she moved right along with him, graceful as a swan. In her tall heels she met him eye to eye. Now he could examine those amazing inky-blue eyes up close. Little gold flecks shimmered in the irises like rays of sunshine on the surface of the ocean, and a pleasurable tingle wiggled down his spine.

“Are you a friend of the bride, or the groom?” she asked.

“I know both of them, but only slightly. I guess Claudia got me the invitation. She thought I’d be interested in seeing the Logan place.”

“It’s pretty amazing. And if there’s one thing Jillian knows how to do, it’s throw a party. What do you do for a living?”

He knew the question would come up. “Cop. You?”

“Social worker.”

Not what he expected. If she worked at all, he’d been guessing something glamorous—fashion editor, commercial real estate. “Enjoy it?”

“Immensely. You?”

“Usually.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Most of the time I’m just too busy to be scared.”

“Ever been shot?”

“No. That sort of thing is very rare.”

“Ever shot anyone?”

“Also very rare. I’ve hardly ever unholstered my weapon, much less shot at someone.”

“Still, it’s got to be dangerous at times.”

“I imagine your job has its dangers, too. You probably deal with all segments of society. Lowlifes.”

“Well, pretty troubled people, anyway. I wouldn’t call them ‘lowlifes.’”

The song switched to a slow number. Hudson thought the dance would be over, but she made no move to leave the dance floor. He pulled her close, resting his cheek against her hair and inhaling the scents of something clean and fruity. This was ridiculously pleasant.