The Cavanaugh Code

She had no recollection of issuing an invitation, Taylor thought.

Pressing the down button, she turned to face him. “Look, if you think you’re coming with me just because my stepfather bounced you on his knee—”

A touch of surprise entered his eyes. “Brian Cavanaugh’s your stepfather?”

It was something she assumed everyone knew because, in the world she inhabited, for the most part they did. “Yes.”

He nodded, as if approving. “Your mother’s got a good man.”

She was not going to get sidetracked. “Be that as it may, you’re not coming with me.”

“I didn’t think I was.”

She pressed the down button again. “Then why are you following me?”

“I’m not,” he told her innocently.

Where was the damn elevator? There weren’t that many floors. “Right.”

“In case it might have slipped your notice, ‘Detective,’ cars are supposed to be parked outside the building and I haven’t trained mine to come when I call so, consequently, if I want to use it, I have to go to the car.” He gave her an amused look. “Same as you, I suspect.”

She was about to press for the elevator a third time when it arrived. She saw that the car was almost filled to capacity. Ordinarily, she would have waited for the next car, but she wanted to get away from this man as quickly as possible. So she slipped into the car, trying to make the most of the space that was available.

As did he.

Taylor discovered that ignoring a man she found herself pressed up against was next to impossible no matter how hard she tried.

Chapter Four (#ulink_8cdbee1c-240f-5fca-97a7-8c986f5f0f0b)

Hours later, out in the field, Taylor could swear she could still feel the blush from that morning creeping up her neck. It lingered, breathing color along her cheeks as they traveled down in the elevator to the first floor.

To his credit, Laredo had made no reference to being packed against her like an amorous sardine, but it was obvious that he was thinking about it. One look at the smile in his eyes told her that.

Damn annoying man, Taylor thought now, not for the first time. If her stepfather and Frank hadn’t indirectly vouched for Laredo by the way they’d both greeted and interacted with the man, J. C. Laredo would have definitely been at the top of her list of suspects to investigate. She wasn’t sure if she would have bought into his story about investigating Eileen’s murder as a favor to his grandfather if it hadn’t been for them.

Even so, she still might look into his background once she finished interviewing the people on the victim’s list of clients. She’d been doing that for a good part of the day, as well as talking to the other tenants in Eileen’s building. So far, she felt as if she was just spinning her wheels. Slowly.

After getting back into her car, Taylor closed the door and then just sat there for a moment, looking over the remaining names on the list of clients. Because they were all celebrities of varying degrees, getting past their bodyguards and arranging for a few minutes of conversation was turning out to be almost a Herculean effort. She wouldn’t mind if she felt that this helped the investigation, but it didn’t.

A gut feeling told her that she was probably just wasting her time. Maybe she needed to talk to Eileen’s mother.

That was when it occurred to Taylor that she’d been so eager to get away from Laredo, she had completely forgotten to ask for Carole Stevens’s address.

With a sigh, she dug out the card the private investigator had pressed into her hand just before they parted company.

“In case you change your mind and decide you want to collaborate,” he’d said, punctuating his statement with a rather unsettling wink just before he’d sauntered off to his car.

She recalled thinking, almost against her will, that Laredo had the tightest butt she’d ever seen on a man. That was when she’d almost thrown his card away. But there weren’t any trash containers in the immediate vicinity, so she’d temporarily stuffed it into her jacket pocket.

Looking now at the plain white card with its bold, raised black lettering, Taylor read the cell number twice, repeating it under her breath before putting it into her own phone.

The phone on the other end rang four times. She was fairly certain it would go to voice mail, but then she heard a noise. The next moment, a deep male voice rumbled against her ear and she was certain she had the real deal, not a recording.

“Laredo.”

Something suddenly and unexpectedly tightened in her gut. Annoyed with herself—and him—Taylor almost flipped the phone closed. Damn it, she was acting like some indecisive schoolgirl, she upbraided herself. This just had to stop. Now.

“That you, Detective McIntyre?” she heard the deep voice ask when the silence stretched out. She could swear she heard a smile in his voice.

“Yes,” she bit off grudgingly. “It’s me.” How had he known? It wasn’t as if she’d indicated that she was ever going to call him, at least, not until such time as the Winter Olympics took place on the frozen terrains of hell.

As if reading her mind, he said, “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Miss me?”

“Like a toothache.” Taylor could almost see the smirk on his lips. “I need Carole Stevens’s phone number and address.”

He was the soul of cooperation. “Sure thing. Got a pencil and paper?”

“Of course I do,” she answered, quickly opening her glove compartment and tossing things onto the passenger seat in a frenzied attempt to locate the items.

“I can wait,” he offered, as if he could see her rummaging.

The man made her exceedingly uneasy. “The address,” she repeated, issuing the words like a direct order.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Carole Stevens lived in the older part of town, Taylor thought as she wrote down the street address. Had those been Eileen’s roots as well? she wondered, quickly writing down the phone number Laredo recited.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Detective McIntyre,” he replied cheerfully.

Last time, Taylor countered mentally. She quickly terminated the connection before he could say anything else.

Why the hell was her heart racing? Taylor silently demanded as she turned the key in the ignition. There was absolutely no reason for it to be beating as if she’d just completed a hundred-meter dash.

She really needed to go on that vacation. The minute that Aaron came back, she would take off for a couple of weeks. Let him go solo for a while. It would serve him right, leaving her in a lurch like this.

What was the matter with her? Taylor thought the next moment, guiding the car to the main thoroughfare. She was happy for Aaron. She knew how much he and his wife, Rachel, had wanted this baby, how long they had tried to get pregnant. They deserved to enjoy their little girl.

Taylor sighed, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. Just when had she turned into the Wicked Witch of the West?

Since her path had crossed Laredo’s. There was no point in denying it. She didn’t know what it was about the tall, muscular private investigator with the intrusive manner, but he made her feel as if she was walking on a foundation made of gelatin.

What she needed, until she could go off on that mythical vacation, was to hang out a few mornings at Andrew’s house. The former chief of police threw his doors open every morning, making gastronomically thrilling breakfasts for whichever member of his family happened to wander into his house. The man loved to cook and he loved his family. And everybody knew that. The atmosphere within Andrew Cavanaugh’s house was energizingly positive and right now, she could use a little positive reinforcement.

Since her mother was married to Brian, Andrew’s younger brother, that connected her to the family patriarch. Not that she actually needed an excuse to show up. Andrew considered most of the people on the police force his extended family.

How the hell did that man manage to keep enough food around to feed everyone? she couldn’t help wondering. It was like one of Aesop’s fables come to life, the one about the bottomless pitcher of milk. No matter how many glasses were poured, the pitcher always remained full. In this case, it wasn’t a pitcher, it was a bottomless refrigerator.