Kathleen Pickering - Desert Heat

Meg tapped Pen’s wineglass with her own. “Congratulations, girl. You’ve reached the top.”

Penny chuckled. “I can’t tell you how hard it was resisting the urge to ask Katrina Ripley for an autograph while prepping her for a pedi-wrap.”

Meg laughed out loud. Katrina Ripley was well known in the fashion world as the latest leggy, angel-faced model. She’d been discovered living on the streets in Berlin by a French photographer when documenting the city. That photographer had done an exclusive on Katrina with photos before and after he cleaned her up, which shot her to international fame.

Any clothes, accessories or jewelry she modeled sold out so quickly that one lingerie mega-store had nabbed her, offering an obscene annual salary to be their exclusive representative. She’d met and married Josh Ripley in a fast and furious love affair that had been plastered all over the tabloids for months. “Wow. Even I’m impressed.”

“I know! Katrina Ripley is amazing.”

Meg shook her head. “No. I’m impressed that you made it through two hours with the woman and didn’t ask her to sign your arm.”

“Or ask her for a pass for tonight’s concert. Enrique would have fired me on the spot. Bothering the celebrities is the best way to lose your job.” Penny tapped her lip with a finger. “But it might have been worth it for front-row seats to see Joshua Ripley perform.”

“I’d prefer an Eagles concert any day.”

Penny grinned. “Well, sure, but he’s here, and they’re not.”

Meg reached for some popcorn. “So, do you like working with Enrique?”

“He can be a ballbuster, but he’s protecting the privacy of the residents. Once you get his motives, he’s pretty easy.”

“I guess he’s like Eric Longwood. In charge of everything, so has to run a tight ship.”

“Exactly. I like Enrique. He’s not bad on the eyes, either.” Pen’s attention fell on the cactus blooms. “I can’t believe that by morning, these beautiful flowers will be withered and gone.”

Meg got up from her chair to touch one silky flower petal. This moment wouldn’t come again for another year—or longer. Cupping the bloom with a hand, she bent to inhale the intoxicating fragrance, her hair falling about her shoulders.

Pen clicked another photo of her. “That’s a good one.”

Meg took the camera. “Go ahead, Pen. Strike a pose. Let’s prove to your spa friends that you really saw a Queen of the Night in bloom.”

Pen’s eyes lit up. “Great idea.” While she angled herself by the cactus blooms, careful not to get too close to the spines, she said, “I saw Mitchell Blake talking with Enrique by the pool this afternoon. Are you guys coming back to the spa to investigate?”

“Butler is insisting we retrace our steps, but I don’t think Mitchell was there because of the case. More likely a disgruntled resident with a complaint.” Meg snapped a profile shot of Pen sniffing the bloom. “Okay, Pen. Look at the camera. Big smile.”

Pen took the camera Meg returned to her and checked out the photo in the viewer. “I know Enrique works with the police department to keep security tight at the Quarry, but Mitchell looked annoyed.”

“Mitchell and I argued this morning, but that had nothing to do with the spa.”

Pen chuckled. “Well, we all know what he thinks of rock stars. The Ripleys have been having some pretty wild parties at their house. I think some of their neighbors were complaining.”

Meg could just imagine Mitchell’s irritation at needing to placate some snooty resident because their neighbor’s music was too loud. “Enrique usually goes straight to Mitchell. The spa likes to get the big guns in the department to deal with their own breed of riffraff.”

Meg inhaled a deep breath at the thought of Tico Butler. Funny how he popped into her mind with the mention of riffraff. Two more blossoms opened, filling the air with their essence. She closed her eyes, letting the scent of the flower embed itself in her mind. She wanted to discuss Butler with her best friend and not get agitated all over again because he, like the flower, would soon be gone.

Pen must have sensed her agitation. “So, talk. Let me hear what’s bothering you.”

Meg shook her head. “Butler was pretty clear in letting me know my father wants me off the case.”

“What about Butler? Does he want you off?”

Meg shrugged. “Oddly enough, I get the feeling he wants to work with me and the team, though I haven’t missed his veiled threats.”

“Threats?”

“That he’s not going anywhere since Dad hired him. And that either I work with him or he’ll follow Dad’s wishes and take me off the case.”

Pen shook her head. “It’s awful that Don Francisco lost confidence.”

Meg released a long breath. “I wouldn’t have minded Dad bringing in an expert, except for the way he did it. He and Mom are scheming and actually want me to stop doing undercover work.”

“Like they could make you stop?”

Meg sighed. “They’d simply force me to move to another city. They want me to find a guy and settle down. I’m not meant to stay home, marry and have a passel of babies.”

“Ever?”

Meg laughed at the concern in her friend’s face. “You know I’m not the marrying type.”

Pen shook her head in amazement. “You’ve said that for years, but I can’t believe it. Nothing would make me happier.”

“Then you get married and have babies.”

“That’s what I mean. Nothing would make me happier.”

Meg grinned. “I know. You’ve told me that for years, too.”

“Now all I need is to find someone worth marrying.”

Meg turned her attention back to the blossoms. “Happy hunting, my friend.”

“Is your detective Butler a handsome man?”

“He’s not my detective Butler.”

Pen waved a dismissing hand. “You know what I mean.”

Was Butler handsome? Meg mused as she realized the first flower had opened completely. “He’s not stud-handsome like in the GQ magazine sort of way. But sexy? Yeah. He has an imposing presence.”

Grinning, Penny raised a brow. “How imposing?”

“Hmm. Oh, I don’t know. Like no woman has been able to tame him yet. He’s half Judumi and looks Native American. About fortyish. He’s had a tough life. His face is strong and angular, but the stress lines around his mouth go all soft when he smiles, and his eyes get a mischievous look.”

“Eye color?”

“Brown. Almost black. Expressive.” She thought about it. “I’d go so far as to say soulful.”

“Hair?”

“Long and black. Ponytail.”

She had Penny’s attention. “And his body?”

Despite her anger earlier tonight, Meg hadn’t missed how snugly Butler’s jeans fit his muscled thighs while seated on her parents’ veranda, or how his denim shirt, opened just enough at the neck, stretched across his chest, or how his lean, strong hands looked as if they knew the power of touch.

And tonight. With the rattlesnake tattoo circling across his tanned forearm. The way he’d watched her with those dark eyes while toying with his cigar. Then when he’d saved her from losing her balance, she found herself breathing deep to get enough of the fresh-soap scent of his skin beneath the cigar smoke.

Meg blew out a long breath. Not good to indulge such thoughts, and Pen’s grin irritated her. “I’ve been so busy arguing with him that I really haven’t noticed his body.”

“After the blow-by-blow description you just gave me on his looks, you expect me to believe that?” Pen narrowed her eyes. “Come on now. It’s me you’re talking to here, kiddo.”

“Okay. So he has a hot body and a wicked rattlesnake tattoo on his right forearm. But believe me. Tico Butler holds no appeal to me.”