Tempting Danger Read Online Free PDF Page A

yours thinks.”
    “Ex-husband, as of tomorrow,” the black woman snapped, “and he can eat worms. It’s not him I’m worried about, it’s the partners. They aren’t exactly liberals.”
    “All law firms are conservative. It’s the nature of the beast.” The redhead straightened. She had a piquant little face shaped like a cat’s—wide through the forehead and temples, narrowing to a pointy chin. Her hair was cropped extremely short, and gold dangled from her ears. No leather, but her snug white top showed off plenty of creamy skin that suggested she was a natural redhead. “I’ll be happy to testify that Rule’s been here since nine-twenty or so, Detective Yu.”
    The slight stress on Lily’s last name caught her attention. “And your name is?”
    “Ginger.” A small smile played over her lips. “Ginger Harris.”
    Lily froze.
    “Didn’t recognize me, did you? Well, it’s been a long time. Imagine you growing up to be a cop. While I . . .” she laughed, high and tinkling. “I became a slut.”
    Turner said something. Lily didn’t take it in.
    How could she have failed to recognize Ginger’s eyes? The color, the size, the shape . . . they were set wide and so deep that the upper lid almost disappeared. The pupils were a dark amber, like a beer bottle held up to the sun. Her eyebrows were skimpy, like her lashes.
    But it had been so long. Lily hadn’t seen those eyes since shortly before her seventh birthday . . . except in the occasional nightmare. Ginger’s eyes were just like her sister’s. “You’re wearing contacts,” she said stupidly.
    “Lasix surgery, actually. You haven’t changed much, aside from growing a few inches. Still the same sweet, serious little prig you were back then.”
    Lily wanted to ask Ginger if her world was divided into prigs and sluts. She wanted to ask about Ginger’s parents, her brother. But there was a dead man on his way to the morgue. She had to be Detective Yu now, not Lily. “I’ll need a current address.”
    “If you want to do lunch, sugar, I’ll give you my cell number. Hard to catch me at home.”
    “I need your address for my report.”
    Ginger made a little moue of distaste. “All work, aren’t you? Oh, all right. I’m at 22129 Thornton, Apartment 133.”
    “And now,” Turner said, “we have demonstrated our willingness to cooperate with the police. I’d like to know what investigation we’re cooperating in.”
    Lily met his eyes. Nothing happened.
    Idiot. Had she really been afraid that something would? Blood sugar, that’s all it had been. She held his gaze for a moment to prove that she could . . . and felt a tug deep in her belly, the liquid roll of desire. Unmistakable. Infuriating.
    “Homicide,” she said, and hoped her face was as hard to read as his. “This is a homicide investigation.”
    Everyone else reacted. Not Turner. He didn’t shift position by so much as a finger. Rather, he seemed to gather stillness around him like a force field, a quiet whose power lapped out over the others, gradually silencing them. He spoke two words: “Who died?”
    “Carlos Fuentes.”
    “Jesus!” one of the men exclaimed. “Oh, no, poor Rachel,” came from one of the women. And the naked Adonis—Cullen—looked briefly, intensely relieved.
    Turner’s gaze suddenly shifted to behind Lily. “You’ll be kind to Rachel,” he told her, then stood and started around the table.
    She turned. Rachel Fuentes was returning.
    From a distance, all Lily had seen of the woman were big breasts and magnificent hair. Up close . . . Lily blinked, startled.
    According to the gossip columns, Turner had dated some of the most beautiful women in the country. Rachel Fuentes wasn’t one of them.
    She was young, not much over twenty. And her hair was indeed lovely, her breasts large, but everything else was average. She carried fifteen extra pounds, and not in the right places. Her face was narrow, her nose large, with a high bridge that made her eyes