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He raised an eyebrow. It could have been anyone coming up those stairs. Maybe he’d have to sit her down and explain the basics of security—though as a former cop, with over ten years’ experience, she should know all that. He pushed the door open and entered the apartment. It was starker than he’d remembered. The walls were bare of paintings, and she’d yet to replace the shelving and knickknacks lost in the bombing. He wondered whether she still had all the books in the bedroom.
“You’re late,” she said, her voice coming from the direction of the bathroom.
“Working on the case.” He walked across to the window and stared out over the ocean. If he ever moved, it would be for something like this. Something right opposite the sea. The wash of waves across the sand was hypnotically soothing.
“Anything new?”
“Yeah, the four victims entered the Greenwood State Care Center on the same day as thirteen other kids. How’d you do with Dr. O’Hearn?”
“She took some blood and skin samples. I have to go back tomorrow at eleven.” Sam came out of the bathroom and walked toward him, and he felt his breath come short.
She wore what was becoming a standard uniform for her—a jacket and shirt, this time teamed with a knee-length skirt rather than pants. Only there was nothing conservative, or even normal, about this little dark gray number. Both the jacket and skirt appeared to be made from Contour, the latest in textile development. It clung like a second skin, displaying every curve with loving detail. The skirt was slit on one side to her thigh, revealing plenty of tanned leg.
She looked stunning. Sexy. And it sure as hell would be difficult to see her in any suit the same way again. He cleared his throat. This was not a good development. Not when he was trying to ignore his attraction to her.
She collected her purse from the coffee table, a smile touching her full, red lips. It was then that he realized she’d done it deliberately—had dressed to shatter his reserve and get some reaction.
“The cut on your leg has healed rather nicely,” he said lamely.
Indeed, it was little more than a pale pink scar. She definitely healed way too fast. The three scrapes he’d received across his shoulder had barely scabbed over—and as a shapechanger he healed a good two or three times faster than a human. He’d have to call O’Hearn and mention it.
“Yeah, it has. Shall we go?”
He waved her ahead of him, locking her door and following her down the stairs. But he kept his eyes on the shining beacon of her red-gold hair rather than the enticing sway of her hips.
They drove to the city in silence. It was neither uncomfortable nor tension-filled, just the easy silence that existed between two people who understood each other well. Even if they were still relative strangers—something he had no intention of changing while they were still partners, no matter how sexy she was, no matter how comfortable he felt with her.
He found street parking and they walked the block to the restaurant. Han’s eldest son, Michael, made his way across to them as they entered.
“Hey, Uncle Gabriel, how’s it going?”
Gabriel smiled and shook the big man’s hand. Like his father, Michael towered over him by a good four or five inches and was almost twice as wide. “How are Danni and the kid?”
Michael beamed. “We finally decided on a name. Katie Jane, after Danni’s mother.”
“About time. I was beginning to think she’d have to choose her own name when she went to school. Michael, this is my partner, Samantha Ryan.”
“Whoa! If I knew partners could look like this, I would have joined the force.” He grinned and stuck out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Samantha.”
She grinned. “Please, call me Sam.”
“Dad’s put you both in the Dragon Room. You have sole ownership tonight.”
“Thanks.” Gabriel glanced around as two more people entered the restaurant. It looked like Han was having another good night. Already the place was so crowded you could barely move between the tables. He’d have to buy Han an extra-large bottle of bourbon for doing them such a huge favor. “We’ll make our way there. You look after your customers.”
Michael nodded. “Dad’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
Gabriel lightly placed his hand against Sam’s back, guiding her through the tables to the private function room near the back of the restaurant. The holographic dragons played across the ceiling as they entered, the creatures diamond bright in the candlelit darkness.
“Lord, I still can’t get over how real they look,” she murmured, a smile touching her full lips.
Gabriel watched a sapphire-blue dragon flame a butterfly that danced near its tail. Warmth washed over his face, followed quickly by a hint of acrid smoke. The butterfly emerged from the flames unscathed, and the dragon looked miffed. “Han’s always working on the holographs. His aim is to make them as real as possible.”
A golden dragon dove for Sam’s head and she ducked, then smiled ruefully. “He’s just about achieved that.”
Gabriel motioned her toward the table set up in the middle of the room. She sat at one end. He sat to one side of her, but the table was small enough that his knee brushed hers. The touch sent warmth rushing to his groin. He might not be willing to admit his attraction to his partner, but his body sure as hell had no such inhibitions. Just as well he was sitting down.
A door opened near the back of the room and Han loomed out of the shadows, his smile almost lost under the bushiness of his mustache.
