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  Gina didn't reply, just stared at Brady and nodded toward his drink.

  He shook his head. "No, thanks."

  She ambled to the bar, got a diet soda from Randy, the bartender, and took it back to Cagney—or was it Lacey with the dark hair? Gina didn't think any more of chick cops than she did the masculine version. She set the drink in front of the woman and looked at her expectantly.

  The lady detective had gotten caught up in the show, and when the naked Catwoman finally left the stage, she glanced up at Gina distractedly. "Oh, yeah. I guess I need to find out what time you came to work, and if you noticed anything unusual."

  "Who's asking, please?" Gina put a hand on her hip.

  Brady smiled and sucked a piece of ice from his glass into his mouth. "Gina, this is Detective Melanie Curtis, Homicide Division. Mel, this is Gina—uh…"

  Gina looked slowly from him to Detective Curtis. She finally said "Morris. Gina Morris."

  "Thank you." Curtis jotted her notes into a small book. "So Gina, what time did your shift start tonight?"

  "Nine."

  Detective Curtis nodded. "That's about the time we got here." She looked at Brady. "What time did you get here?"

  He swallowed another bit of ice. "Around seven-thirty. I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary."

  The other detective smiled at him. "But then, you weren't watching the back door, were you?"

  "Good point." He shrugged. "I watched the show until Julie went out to dump the trash and got my attention with a bone-chilling scream." He looked at Gina, and she saw his eyes giving her the once-over. "Since I came back in, the dancers haven't held my interest."

  She looked away, hoping Detective Curtis hadn't noticed him ogle her. The woman continued to write in her notebook, apparently unaware of what the other detective was doing. Maybe they weren't an item, after all. Gina knew if Brady Marshall was her man, she'd keep one eye on him at all times.

  She shifted her feet, impatient with the slow-paced questioning. The lady detective seemed in no hurry, but Gina couldn't wait to get away. Marshall made her nervous, and standing this close as he continued to scrutinize her was unnerving. She didn't dig cops.

  "You've never seen the victim here before?" Detective Curtis asked Marshall.

  He shook his head. "Not that I recall. I have a pretty good memory for faces, but his doesn't ring any bells."

  "What about you?" She looked at Gina.

  "I didn't see the body."

  Curtis pulled out a Polaroid picture and held it up. The sandy-haired man could have been asleep, except his face was bleached of color. Gina leaned closer in the dark club to get a better look. She didn't recognize him, and shook her head.

  "Are you sure?" Curtis snapped.

  Gina slapped a hand on her hip and stared at the other woman. "I said I've never seen him. You have reason to doubt me?"

  "I don't know you. I do know everybody lies at one point or another."

  "I have no cause to lie," Gina said coolly, remembering why she disliked cops.

  They gazed at each other until Marshall set his glass on the table with a thud. "We're all a little on edge tonight. It's never fun discovering a dead body." He flashed Gina a quick smile before turning back to the other detective. "So Mel, some of the neighboring businesses are closed tonight. You'll want to have your uniforms come back tomorrow and continue the canvass."

  Curtis shook off Gina's stare and turned to Marshall. "Yeah," she finally said. "I realize that." The woman kept talking but Gina tuned her out.

  In a casual manner, Brady Marshall had diffused the tension before it got out of hand. He was smooth, and that made her nervous. Police, in general, made her uneasy. She watched him as he spoke with the lady cop.

  She'd be fooling herself if she believed the reason Marshall made her nervous was his job. It had more to do with his piercing blue eyes and silky blonde hair than his badge. He was tall, over six feet, with muscles in all the right places. His arms appeared strong, and for a moment Gina let herself wonder how it'd feel if he wrapped her in them. A shiver ran down her spine and she swooned, grabbing the table for support.

  "Are you all right?" Marshall was on his feet in an instant. He started to reach for her and thought better of it, pulling his hand back. "You're not going to faint, are you?"

  She brought her focus back to reality and shook her head. "Of course not. I just had a chill."

  "Yeah, it's pretty frosty in here." He looked at her and Gina smiled. It was probably ninety degrees in the club. Women danced naked and men sweated profusely. She shook her head, and he added, "This has affected you more than you're letting on. You should take a break."

  Inhaling, Gina said, "I'll be fine, thanks. I need to get back to work. If you're through with me, that is."

  "I'm through," Curtis said into her notebook.

  Marshall looked at her for a long moment before answering, "For now."

  She saw a hint of a smile in his eyes, and hurried to depart his company. Randy at the bar was covering for her best he could, but she could see Warren, the owner, tapping his toe with irritation. She'd just come on shift but it was already a long, bad night.

  * * * *

  Gina rolled over, bumping into the familiar figure that regularly warmed her bed. "Hey there! How's my pretty Pussy today?" Reaching out, she scooped the large, furry cat into her arms and nuzzled. "Such a pretty baby."

  The cat leaned back and accepted the fawning as her due. Gina knew it was expected, considering they woke up most mornings in the same manner. There'd been a few days when she'd run late and missed the exchange, but her new job offered later hours and more sleeping-in time.

  She stroked the soft fur and thought about the Pink Banana Club. It wasn't the perfect job, but compared to some she'd tried, it wasn't bad. At least she got to keep her clothes on. The other employees were friendly, but she'd told the cop the truth. She didn't have many friends there—possibly because she hadn't worked there long, but more likely because of her tendency to keep people at a distance.

  The cop. He was someone she needed to keep at bay, which might be easier said than done. Dogged in his persistence the night before, he'd remained at the club until almost closing time. She'd finally gotten rid of him, but it'd been tough.

  To her surprise, she found him more attractive and witty as the night wore on. He hinted that he'd like to go out with her, but she repeated that she didn't date cops. Unfortunately, it wouldn't take much for a man like that to wear down her resolve. She needed to steer clear of him, and everything would be fine.

  The melodic tune of her cell phone jarred her back to reality. Grabbing it from the nightstand, she flipped it open, read the screen and pressed 'talk'. "Hi, Papa."

  "Cara, como ci?"

  Gina leaned back into her pillow and rubbed a hand through her hair. "Speak English, Papa. You're not in Italy. I'm fine. How are you?"

  "Saputa," he muttered.

  She chuckled. "If I'm a smart ass, I learned it from you. What are you doing, phoning me at this hour to call me names?"

  "This hour? It's almost noon."

  She yawned. "Really? I worked late. We had some excitement. Dead guy in the alley behind the club."

  "Anybody we knew?"

  Snorting, she asked, "How would I know? He was nobody I knew. The cops questioned me until they were sure of that fact."

  "I don't like this, cara. Dead bodies, police—it's too dangerous. You shouldn't work there."

  "I know." A smile crossed her face. They'd had this conversation numerous times. "I should move back home and work for you."

  "It's a good job—"

  "And I'd be safe there under your wing. I know, Papa, I know. I just want something different."

  "It's good enough for your brother."

  She'd heard this countless times, too. "I never said it wasn't good enough. I said I wanted something different. Why do you do this to me? Every time, the same conversation." Her voice rose in irritation and she tried to quell it. Her father's health wasn't the best, and he didn't need the aggravation.

  "Come to dinner."

  "I have to work tonight. Let me check my schedule and I'll call you soon."

  "Always with the 'you'll call me'…are you putting me off?"

  "No, Papa, I'm not. I have to work. I promise to call you soon."

  "Ti amo, cara."

  "I love you, too. Bye, Papa." She pushed the talk button and tossed her phone on the bed. She knew he loved her, and she loved him, no doubt about that. Her mother died when Gina was twelve. With the help of a few different housekeepers, her father had done his best to raise her. His work had kept him busy, so while he'd been over-protective, he hadn't particularly been attentive. Gina got away with more than she should have in those teenage years. So did her brother, who was barely two years older. Danny had always been a golden boy in their father's eyes.

  Gina stood and stripped out of her silky, red nightgown. It was barely dirty—same with her sheets—but it was laundry day and she was a stickler for cleanliness. Nudging Pussy off so she could strip the bedding, Gina sighed. She couldn't remember the last time she washed the sheets out of necessity. There'd been no one but her sleeping on them for months.

  After starting the washing machine, she shoved everything in and added soap. She'd wait a few minutes before hopping in the shower, so she didn't have to compete for water pressure. Hot water was never a problem. Her building was new and well equipped.

  That cop is probably well equipped, too. The thought hit her as she stood naked in front of the kitchen sink, eating a handful of dry cereal. Where had that come from? Gina tossed the crumbs from her hand down the drain and hurried to the bathroom. She needed to get dressed and do something productive, like vacuuming. That'd
keep her mind off sex, or her recent lack of it.

  Gina ignored her reflection in the bathroom mirror. In her current mood, if she stopped to check out her high, full breasts and shapely hips, she might wind up back in bed, digging under the mattress for her trusty vibrator.

  Snap out of it she scolded herself, and stepped into the shower.

  * * * *

  Gina spent a restless day puttering around the apartment before heading to work. She wasn't sure why she felt so edgy. The dead body in the alley didn't help matters, or perhaps it was the small army of police who invaded the club after the discovery.

  She'd never done anything that wrong to have such an apprehension of cops. She'd been just naughty enough for them to make her uncomfortable. Now, her inability to get one particular cop off her mind made Gina more uneasy than ever.

  What she needed was a date, or even just a nice roll in the hay. How long has it been? It bothered her that she couldn't remember. That usually wasn't something she forgot. She smiled to herself.

  Her first time was a pleasant memory. She could still picture the boy who'd taken her virginity in the back of his Jeep, parked by the lake one summer night long ago. Theo Russo. She and Theo went steady their senior year of high school, when Gina thought life couldn't be any better. Everything was exciting and fun.

  It all changed during her first year of college. That's where the memories turned sour.

  She scanned the Pink Banana, empty except for two tables up front by the stage. Neither of those men drank much, and their tips would be small. It was bound to be another long evening.

  "Not very busy tonight," a voice murmured in her ear.

  Gina jumped. She turned and saw Brady Marshall smiling at her. "Don't do that! You scared the crap out of me."

  "Sorry." His tone was mocking. "Wouldn't want to do that."

  "Marshall—" She readied a response vile enough to make a sailor blush. Spotting a twinkle in his bright blue eyes, she softened and decided to drop it. "What are you doing here?"

  "Looking for you."

  "Not more questions, I hope. I told you last night I didn't know the stiff."

  "And I told you last night; the Pink Banana 'stiff' isn't my case. I'm here to see you."

  He stared right through her, and Gina's gruff exterior dissolved. She hoped he wouldn't ask her out, because right now, gazing into his eyes, she'd agree to anything.

  Brady inserted one finger into a dark ringlet of hair on her shoulder and twirled it. He maintained eye contact as he spoke. "I remember what you said about not liking cops. I understand some people feel that way, but I'd like you to give me a chance. I think you'll find that being a detective is only one aspect of my personality, and—"

  "Okay," she interrupted, feeling lightheaded and starry-eyed from gazing at him for so long.

  "Excuse me?" He blinked.

  "Sure." She smiled. "What did you have in mind?"

  "Oh." He looked nonplussed. "I never got that far. Didn't think you'd give in so easy."

  Gina put her hands on her hips, pulling away from him. "Don't count on it happening again, Detective. I only agreed to go out with you, nothing more."

  "Of course. I knew that." He appeared flustered.

  She kept her face stony but grinned like a fool on the inside. It felt good having the upper hand. She sensed that Brady Marshall didn't get shaken up very often. "So?"

  "So, uh, when are you available? Friday night? Saturday night?"

  Gina shook her head. "I work late Friday night, but I get off at seven Saturday. I'd want to run home and shower real quick."

  "Saturday works," he agreed. "Give me your address and I'll pick you up at whatever time you say."

  "Why don't you meet me here?" She smiled at him sweetly. She didn't want to give him her address, yet. He had access to all sort of computers and information, and Gina didn't want him checking up on her before their date. It seemed like the kind of thing a cop would do—even a cop with bulging biceps and a nice ass.

  "Okay." He stared at her for a moment then grinned. "Why are you looking at me that way?"

  "What way?" She batted her lashes.

  * * * *

  It'd been a long time since Brady felt apprehensive before an evening out. He'd been on scores of dates with countless women, a fact he rarely tried to hide. Everyone in the Wichita Police Department knew he liked women, and women liked him. Brady had few secrets, but he did have rules.

  He dated one woman at a time. He always practiced safe sex, and had his blood tested regularly. He liked things as clean and neat as possible.

  Brady enjoyed the company of women, and treated them well. He was upfront about his intentions, because he never wanted to hurt anyone when he said goodbye. He left on good terms—but he always left.

  It wasn't something he thought about, it was simply the way his relationships drifted. They had fun until it wasn't fun anymore, and then it was over. Ladies understood that, because he was honest with them. They weren't always happy about it, but that was life.

  Some of them dumped him first. Brady had a healthy ego, but wasn't foolish enough to believe every woman would be crazy about him. He was what he was, a hopeless romantic who liked to have a good time, in and out of the sack. Straightforward about his intentions, and so far, things had worked out fine.

  Yet he was nervous as a sixteen year old kid pulling into the Pink Banana Club parking lot on Saturday evening. Tiny acrobats did flips and summersaults in his belly. Exiting his sport utility vehicle, Brady adjusted the waistband of his navy slacks, thinking that was why his stomach ached. It wasn't. He was excited to go on a date with Gina Morris.

  He was curious to see where she lived, too. He couldn't find anything about her in the police computer database. Brady didn't usually check out his dates beforehand, but he'd already established, for some reason, this was no ordinary date.

  He entered the club and peered around. Gina was behind the bar, talking to another waitress. When he approached, they stopped talking, and both looked at him. Gina smiled. "Good timing. Rita just got here to take over. Let me punch out and grab my purse."

  "Fine." He leaned against the bar as she walked off.

  "Get you anything?" The other waitress licked her lips and gave him the once-over.

  Brady smiled. "No thanks, Rita." He took in the nearly empty room. "Quiet night."

  The bartender spoke from behind her. "Every night's been quiet since that body showed up. People are nervous."

  "Understandable." Brady nibbled a pretzel from a bowl on the bar. "Hopefully, that'll pass soon, and things can get back to normal."

  "Any idea who the guy was?" The bartender asked.

  Brady looked at him. With curly red hair and glasses, the kid looked barely old enough to be serving drinks. "Randy, isn't it?"

  He nodded.

  "Well, Randy, I'm actually not working that case. But, no, I don't think they've identified the body yet." Not that he'd tell the bartender if they had, but he liked to give the perception of playing nice.

  Gina returned with a fringed handbag over her shoulder and stopped next to Brady. "Ready?"

  "Yep." Brady nodded to Randy and Rita, both of whom seemed a bit jealous. He wasn't sure if they were jealous of him or Gina, but it didn't matter. "Night, all."

  "Night," Randy repeated.

  "See you around," Rita purred.

  "Yeah, see you." Gina grabbed Brady's arm and ushered him to the door. He pushed it open and she muttered under her breath, "That woman fucks anything with a dick. I'm just warning you."

  He choked out a laugh and smiled at her appreciatively. "You swear like a cop, Miss Morris. Are you sure you never went through the academy?"

  She snorted. "Yeah, right. Me, a cop. Good one, Marshall." Pausing in front of a red convertible, she looked up at him. "This is me. Where are you parked?"

  Brady nodded down a few spaces. "Blue SUV. I'll follow you."

  She looked him up and down once and gave a small smile. "You look nice. Where we going?"

  "Portelli's, unless you're not in the mood for Italian."

  "Italian's fine. And after?"

  He shrugged. "Dancing? I'd vote for that over a movie, but the choice is yours."