shut it again. His gaze went down to the notebook in his hand, and she slipped out the door.
BOBBI TAMONY WAS in her motor home, and by this time, Bax was no longer impressed. It all felt foolish to him, a giant game that half the world had bought into, but that really meant nothing. All pretense, no substance.
He’d seen a lot of Bobbi’s movies in his time and had enjoyed them for the most part, but she was just a suspect. A suspect with two very small, very yappy dogs that had the run of the trailer.
“Can I get you something? A drink? A snack?”
“No, thank you,” he said, sitting in the big chair by the door, just as he had with Danny. Bax eyed the couch, wishing for the hundredth time that he hadn’t been such a fool with Mia. It wasn’t that he’d changed his mind about what he could and couldn’t do, but he was damn sure a smarter man would have handled things more adroitly. He’d embarrassed her. Embarrassed himself. And damn it, he still wanted her.
He’d known her what, a couple of days? How was it possible he liked her so intensely? That he couldn’t shake the feel of her, the scent of her?
This was new for him. The last woman he’d been serious about, Carol, hadn’t bamboozled him like this. They’d started as friends in the academy and the relationship had progressed. They’d decided that it would be good to live together, and that had been pretty good for five whole years.
Then she’d met someone. A fellow cop Bax knew casually, someone he’d never have imagined with Carol. He was one of those manly men. Hunted, fished, worked out with great big dumbbells. To the best of Bax’s knowledge, it had never occurred to him to pick up a book. Carol seemed happy with him, though, so there it was. He used to miss her. Now, he only thought about her when they ran into each other through the job.
This thing with Mia, though, there was none of the distance he’d had with Carol. It was as if she’d bypassed his logic circuits, hitting him straight in the emotions. Not smart. Not when they were both involved with a big case like this one.
“Did you want to ask me some questions, Detective?”
Shit. “Yes, I do.” He pulled out his notebook and pen. “First, why don’t you tell me about your relationship with Gerry Geiger.”
“Relationship? We didn’t have one, other than him being a pain in my ass.”
“In what way?”
She smiled, and he thought of how different it was to see that famous grin life-sized instead of on a movie screen. “He was no different from all the other stalkerazzis. Always looking to get the most unflattering pictures, the most compromising positions. The uglier the better.”
“Did he catch you in any compromising positions?”
“Lots of times. I’d like to tell you my life has been so pure there was nothing for him to catch, but that would be a crock. I’ve partied with the best of them, or perhaps I should say the worst. In fact, it was Gerry who managed to get a copy of my mug shot when I was busted for that DUI in L.A.”
“Did you and he have any discussions about that?”
“No, Detective, we didn’t. We had no discussions whatsoever. Come here, baby. Come on.”
Bax bit back a sigh as the women segued from the interview to getting her tiny dog on her lap. Then he waited for a couple of minutes as the dog, nestled under her considerable cleavage, barked at him. Bobbi didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed a little calmer after the dog finally shut up.
“As for the night he was murdered, I left the nightclub set at a quarter to eleven. You can check with the AD who signed me out. I then went to my room, took a very long bath and went to bed.”
“Anyone who can confirm that?”
“The pet concierge, Mercy I believe her name is, brought the babies to my room.”
“Do you remember what time?”
“No. Sometime after eleven. After that, no one can vouch for me. Sorry.”
“Do you think someone from the film killed him?”
She didn’t seem the least shaken by his question. “Very possibly. He wasn’t a nice man, Detective. He was rude, pushy, obnoxious. His lifeblood was our misery.”
“And yet, according to Mrs. Geiger, you called on him to take pictures when it suited you.”
“Look, sweetie, I didn’t make the calls myself,” she said with a slight roll of her eyes. “Oscar has people who do that kind of thing, not me.”
“So you never actually spoke to Mrs. Geiger.”
“God, no. But from what I hear, she’s quite the lush. Even Gerry Geiger had had enough of that one. I heard he was getting ready to leave her.”
“How did you hear that?”
“Was it Nan? Maybe not. You have to understand, Detective—do you have a first name? That detective bit is getting old.”
“We’re almost done. Was it Nan Collins who told you that Geiger was leaving his wife?”
“I don’t recall, honestly. It was just one of those rumors on the set. You know how those are.”
“No. How are they?”
She smiled, clearly not appreciating his humor.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“That’s it.”
“You’ll let me know if you think of anything else, yes?”
Her smile became even less charming. Perhaps he should have let her call him Bax.
“I’ll rush to find you if I think of another thing.”
He stood, causing the dogs to get hysterical yet again, and then he was outside in the warm June afternoon. He needed to type up his notes, call Grunwald, although he was no closer to a suspect. But attention had to be paid to the protocols.
Besides, once he was inside, he could check room service records and find out about the pet concierge. Jeez, hotels had certainly changed a lot. Or maybe he was just a hopeless hick, destined for backwoods motels.
As he entered the hotel lobby, his gaze went straight to the front desk, to Mia. She didn’t see him, engrossed as she was on the computer and her phone. He watched her for a long while, probably too long. She typed and talked with a smile that he knew now was genuine. Not like Bobbi Tamony, or any of those movie people. None of those actors could hold a candle to Mia. She was beautiful, wickedly bright— Bax closed his eyes. This was not good.
In fact, it was humiliating. Thirty-six years old, and he was moony over a slip of a girl. Jesus. Pretty soon he’d be writing her name on the back of his notebook.
He turned around and walked outside, stretching his legs for the first time that day. Thinking about this situation.
First of all, he was leaving. He’d already been accepted at Boulder and there was nothing for him in New York, so it wasn’t optional. Second, she wasn’t leaving. Mia had scored herself an incredible job, and she wasn’t about to give that up for the likes of him. Third, he was really, really tired. That was probably what all this insanity was about. He’d get a good night’s sleep and things would go back to normal.
This was not the way he did things.
He was on a case, for God’s sake. A high-profile murder. What, did he think he could skate just because he’d turned in his resignation? As long as he was on the damn clock, he would put his entire energy on the job, not on his dick.
Only, it wasn’t just his dick.
Shit.
“YOU HAVE A MINUTE, Mia?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
It