does it matter? I’ve been busy.”
“You’ve been obsessed,” his boss countered. “I tried to call you at home tonight to give you the news about the investigation, but I had to leave a message on your machine. You were sitting in front of that damn computer at the Holloway house again, weren’t you?”
“That’s my job,” Zach reminded him.
“Don’t give me that crap,” Thomas spit out. “You’re not on duty twenty-four hours a day. You’ve lost weight and look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“Maybe if you worried as much about this investigation as you do about my appearance, we’d have found Gilbert Holloway by now.”
Thomas slowly rose to his feet. “I’ve about had it with your attitude, Maddox. Don’t push me.”
But Zach didn’t back off. “Hell, somebody’s got to do it if we’re ever going to find the bastard who shot Ray.”
Thomas stared at him, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I think it’s time you took a vacation.”
“I don’t need a damn vacation. I just need to work this case.”
“That’s not going to happen. You’re off the case and off the force for the next thirty days. Effective immediately.”
His words were like a sucker punch to the gut. “You’re suspending me?”
“Call it a mandatory vacation,” Brannigan replied. “There’s more to life than the job, Zach. You’re going to burn out at this rate. You need to find yourself a beach somewhere in the Caribbean and start hunting for women instead of criminals.”
He recognized that obstinate glint in Brannigan’s green eyes. The man wasn’t going to change his mind. Zach had gone too far this time.
“Now go home,” Thomas ordered, ushering him to the door, “and get some sleep. I don’t want to see you for at least a month.”
Before he could say another word, Zach found himself standing outside, the door slammed in his face. He’d blown it. Standing on the front porch, he replayed their conversation over in his mind, wondering if there was something else he could have said to convince Brannigan to change his mind.
It was too late now. He was off the case. But he had no desire to play beach bum for the next four weeks. There was only one place he wanted to go—one person he wanted to see. And the reasons why he should stay away didn’t seem to matter anymore.
“Gracie Dawson, here I come.”
2
THE NIGHT OF HER HIGH SCHOOL reunion, Gracie stepped into Between the Covers wearing her borrowed black dress and matching stilettos, feeling a little like Cinderella. Only she didn’t intend to run away from her Prince Charming at midnight. Just the opposite, in fact.
She’d spent hours preparing for this night, grateful the reunion was in Kendall so she didn’t have to factor in travel time. Yet, there was something pathetic about the fact that she hadn’t left this place for the past ten years. Most of her classmates would be coming in from long distances.
“How do I look?” she asked her assistant store manager, turning in a slow circle.
“Sensational.” Trina Powers walked out from behind the counter, the prosthesis on her left leg visible beneath her denim miniskirt. A motorcycle accident eight years ago had led to an amputation just above Trina’s knee. Some days she used a wheelchair, but most of the time she wore the prosthesis, ignoring the stares of the customers and challenging anyone who tried to pity her.
Despite her disability, nothing ever stopped the thirty-two-year-old from performing her duties at the bookstore—or voicing her opinion.
“That’s a Let’s-Have-Sex outfit if I ever saw one,” Trina said with a smile.
Gracie looked down at the slinky halter dress she had on loan from Tess. The four-inch heels belonged to Cat, who never seemed to have any trouble attracting men. “That’s good because I’m definitely aiming for provocative.”
“I know what we should do,” Trina replied. “Let’s ask the expert. Hemingway’s around here somewhere.”
Paul Toscano, an aspiring writer whom Trina had nicknamed Hemingway, was a daily fixture at the bookstore. Every morning he arrived with his laptop and a sack lunch, then settled into his favorite nook to work on his book-in-progress until closing time.
“Hey, Ernest,” Trina bellowed, “come out here. We need your opinion on something.”
Paul emerged from between the bookcases, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose. His shirt and jeans fit loosely on his slight build and his auburn hair and beard were in need of a trim. His soulful brown eyes fixed on Trina and Gracie could see a blush form beneath his whiskers.
“You called?” he asked Trina.
“Gracie has a hot date tonight,” Trina began, “and we need someone with a Y chromosome to tell us if this outfit she’s wearing will trip his trigger.”
His blush deepened as he turned his gaze to Gracie. “It’s very nice.”
Gracie wasn’t going for nice. She wanted Gilbert’s eyes to pop when he saw her. She wanted him to drag her up to his hotel room at the Claremont and ravish her. On second thought, she’d do the ravishing. After reading all those romances in her aunt’s collection, she was ready to bring some of those erotic scenes to life.
“Nice?” Trina echoed, staring at Paul. “You’re a writer. A wordsmith. Is that really the best you can do? How about sexy? Stunning? Irresistible?”
“Maybe I should take you with me to the reunion,” Gracie said to her, “in case Gilbert needs some prodding.”
“He won’t,” Paul said. “You look lovely.”
Gracie wished she could be as confident. Gilbert hadn’t responded to her e-mail, which wasn’t like him. So she’d made a call to the reunion coordinator, who’d confirmed that he’d be there.
She took a deep breath, wondering what it would be like to see him again after all these years. Though there had been some gaps in his communications to her the past couple of years, he’d recently started e-mailing her more than ever.
Their exchanges seemed more personal somehow, with a sexual undercurrent that intrigued her, made her feel closer to him than ever. Maybe because they were both nearing thirty and still single. Whatever the reason, it was long past time to discover if their friendship could lead to something more.
“I looked Gilbert up in an old yearbook,” Trina said, pulling one off the shelf. Between the Covers had every yearbook from Kendall High School dating back to 1934. “He’s not exactly what I expected.”
Gracie looked over Trina’s shoulder as she paged to the senior picture section of the yearbook.
“There he is,” Trina said, her finger tapping on his photo.
A stout teenage boy with shaggy dark hair, chipmunk cheeks and Coke-bottle bottom glasses that magnified his brown eyes stared back at Gracie. He wore a frayed denim jacket and a sullen expression, neither of which made him appear very appealing.
“Gilbert was never photogenic,” Gracie said in his defense. “And he told me he lost a bunch of weight five years ago and had Lasik surgery, so the glasses are gone. Besides, I’ve gone out with plenty of guys who looked great on the outside but were jerks on the inside. At least I know Gilbert isn’t a jerk.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Trina closed the yearbook. “Besides, who am I to judge? It’s not like I have a Gilbert or any other man knocking down my door.”
Paul cleared his throat and started to say something, but before he could get the words out, Trina abruptly