Dark Surrender

The detective must have sensed her anxiety because he motioned for her to follow. “I’ve got everything over at my desk.”

As they walked through rows of desks, she noticed he held a plain brown folder in his other hand.

One of her many case files she assumed. Dead parents. Check. Psychotic ex-fiancé. Check. Dead grandparents, robbery. Check, check.

What would life throw at her next?

If she didn’t get the ring back, it wasn’t going to be good.

Detective O’Malley brought her over to his desk by the only wall of thick-paned windows. Muted sunlight fell on a drooping green plant in a plastic pot that rested next to a broken-down printer on a metal table. She sat in the uncomfortable chair in front of his desk and crossed her legs, anxiously tapping the heel of her shoe.

She watched him go through some of the papers on his desk. Jillian liked Steve O’Malley. As a detective he was cool and professional, yet tough. They’d also gone out on one date together, right after she’d moved into her apartment, but she hadn’t been ready for a relationship at the time and didn’t know if she wanted to date a cop. Now that she found herself sitting in front of his desk again, she was starting to second guess her decision.

What if she was missing out on a really great guy? Definitely good boyfriend material.

So why could she only think of Mr. Smith? His smell, the warm feel of his touch, his bold, sensual kiss.

“We were able to recover everything.” O’Malley opened the brown file on his desk. “It all turned up at the same pawn shop in Queens.”

Her stomach fluttered wildly. Had they truly gotten the ring?

“How did you find it all so fast?” Jillian figured her odds of ever recovering the stolen items were low.

O’Malley closed the file and leaned his elbows on the desk, lacing his fingers together. “The pawn shop owner was murdered last night, and we got an anonymous phone call that the place was full of stolen goods. In cases like these, we cross-reference the shop’s inventory against our stolen goods database. In your case, we had pictures of all the items so it made our job a lot easier.”

Thank God her grandfather had been meticulous about insuring his valuables.

“Someone was murdered?” Jillian whispered, her mind running wild.

Could the murder be connected to the ring?

Her stomach tightened with panic. Was that to be her fate as well?

“Probably a robbery gone bad,” he said. “Those shops keep large amounts of cash on hand.”

Jillian wanted to believe it was nothing more than an everyday crime, a coincidence, but the knot of dread in her stomach told her there was a connection. If the ring hadn’t been stolen, she might be the one who was dead, and the awful thought got her heart racing as her anxiety continued to build.

“Don’t worry,” O’Malley said in a calming voice. “The chance of anyone robbing you again is unlikely, though you should think about storing any valuables in a safe deposit box.”

“Thank you, detective.”

“Steve.” He smiled, the one corner of his mouth twitching. “Call me Steve.”

“Steve.” She tried to relax, but he held her gaze. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“It’s my job.” His gaze roamed down to her hips, over her gray skirt and along her smooth legs. “Would you like to have dinner with me again?”

Jillian hoped she didn’t look too stunned, but she hadn’t been expecting that.

“It’s nice of you to offer,” she said. “But I don’t know if I’m in the right place to start a relationship.”

“It’s only dinner,” he pressed further, smiling. “It doesn’t have to be anything serious.”

Jillian knew what kind of “date” he was looking for, and she gave him a half-hearted smile. “I’m not good at casual flings.”

“I had to try,” he said, his smile hardening, like it was stuck in place.

After a long moment, he rose from his desk and handed her a yellow evidence envelope.

Jillian opened the envelope and peeked inside. The ruby ring sat on top of the golden pile of her grandmother’s antique jewelry.

Her prayer had been answered.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Now what did she do?

“The television is over here.” O’Malley picked up a flat-screen television from the floor and held it tucked under his arm. “I’ll help you out to your car.”

“That would be nice.” Jillian was almost tempted to have dinner with him again, but she didn’t feel that romantic spark with him, and it wouldn’t be right to lead him on. O’Malley was a nice guy, and he deserved a woman who was crazy about him.

Jillian was just crazy.

It had only taken Dr. Weber two meetings before he prescribed her a steady dose of anxiety pills.

She and the detective took the elevator down to the first floor. O’Malley kept stealing hopeful glances at her, and she pretended not to notice. Honestly, how many dates would it take to scare him off with her obsessive-compulsive quirks? Even now, she felt the need to run through her system checks. Hair, glasses, sleeves, watch. To compensate, she hiked her purse strap up higher on her shoulder.

When the elevator doors slid open she took a deep, calming breath and stepped out into the downstairs lobby, relaxing when she got out into the more open space.

“Where are you parked?” O’Malley walked ahead of her, carrying the television.

“I’m in the visitor lot on the side.” She pointed towards the doors.

He pushed one of the double doors open with his shoulder and held it for her to pass through.

“Thank you.” She slipped out into the sunny afternoon and made her way directly across the parking lot to her silver Mercedes SUV, fishing her keys out of her purse and deactivating the alarm as she walked.

“Where do you want this?” O’Malley asked.

She opened the back door and he put the television on the seat and strapped it in with the seatbelt, then he closed the door and leaned his hand against the top frame. His blue suit jacket hung open and revealed the holstered gun he wore strapped to his side and the shiny, golden badge on the waistband of his jeans.

“Thanks again for your help.” Jillian got her car key ready in her hand.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind about dinner?”

She studied his handsome face and cute smile, waiting for any kind of a spark to ignite, but there was no fire, no energy. He didn’t turn her inside out or make her senses reel. With Mr. Smith, she’d felt a wild attraction from the moment she’d seen him standing in the café at her museum. The very thought of him made her breathless.

And that was what she was looking for.