Dead by Wednesday. Beverly Long

soaps, like cranberry-apple or peppermint-spice. Spring soaps are totally different. When you wash your hands, you can almost image that you’re somewhere tropical.”

      “I never gave that much thought before,” he said.

      She laughed. “Perhaps you could buy some for the police station?”

      He shook his head. “I don’t think I want to be known as the spring soap guy.”

      “Perhaps not,” she admitted. She drained the pasta and motioned for Raoul to set the table.

      “I didn’t know you had a cat,” he said.

      “Lucy is low-energy but high-strung,” Carmen explained. “We got her from a shelter. She spends a lot of time hiding under the bed.” She set a big bowl of spaghetti on the table. “Let’s eat.”

      “Food’s great,” he said ten minutes later, meaning every word of it.

      “Spaghetti is easy,” Carmen said, pulling at the neckline of her sweater.

      She was cute when she blushed. Robert smiled at her and then shifted his attention to Raoul. “So band keeps you pretty busy?”

      “I guess.”

      “Your friends play instruments, too?”

      “My best friend, Jacob, plays the drums.”

      Robert took another bite and took his time chewing. “Mahoney’s got a good football team. They went to state tournaments last year.”

      “Yeah,” Raoul said. For the first time, Robert heard the bitterness. “If you’re an athlete, you’ve got it made.”

      “No special treatment for the band?”

      That just got him a look. Didn’t mean anything, but Robert filed the information away. “What’s the gang situation like there?”

      Raoul shrugged. “I’m sort of busy with my classes. I wouldn’t know.”

      “I was just curious. I know they mix it up every once in a while in that neighborhood. I suppose drugs are a problem?”

      “Not for me.”

      “Have you ever had anyone try to sell you something?” Carmen asked.

      Raoul shook his head. “Trombone players don’t get a lot of attention from the drug dealers.” He stood up. “I’ve got a lot of homework.” He carried his plate over to the sink and rinsed it.

      “How are your classes going?” Carmen said.

      “Fine.” Raoul grabbed his backpack off the kitchen counter and walked out of the kitchen. Seconds later, a door at the back of the apartment slammed.

      Carmen sat at the table and put her head in her hands. Robert scooted his chair closer. He reached a hand out and with one finger, gently stroked the back of her hand.

      Carmen lifted her face. “He’s lying to me. He’s never done that before. Something is wrong. Very wrong.” There were tears in her eyes.

      “Kids lie,” he said. “It doesn’t mean he’s in trouble. Maybe he’s embarrassed about his grades and intends to bring them up.”

      She shook her head.

      “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “We have cops in all the high schools. I’ll talk to the ones who are at Mahoney High School. I’ll see if they recognize his name. Okay?”

      “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

      Her face was close. Close enough that he could see the tears that still clung to her long lashes. Her skin was a lovely mocha and her lips were pink and inviting. He leaned forward. She stilled.

      He bent his head and kissed her. She tasted like spaghetti sauce and red wine, sweet with just a hint of sharpness. And when she pulled back quickly, he had to force himself to let her go, to not demand more.

      Her dark eyes were big.

      “I hadn’t planned on that,” he said, proving that adult men lied, too. Maybe he hadn’t exactly planned it, but for months he’d been thinking about kissing Carmen.

      She didn’t answer. She just looked as shaken as he felt. A few more strands of her silky hair had fallen down and her lips were trembling.

      “Look,” he said, “I—”

      “I know you were just comforting me,” she said.

      He started to protest but realized that she was rationalizing the action. In her own way, she was as skittish as her cat. If she thought that he was romantically interested in her, her first instinct might be to run and hide, too. Carmen Jimenez might be twenty-nine, but he suspected she hadn’t had the experiences of other twenty-nine-year-old women. She’d been too busy raising her brother.

      For the first time, he felt better about what had happened at Liz and Sawyer’s wedding. Maybe it hadn’t been him that Carmen had objected to? Maybe it had just been her lack of experience and her generally shy demeanor that had sent her scurrying into the ladies’ room.

      This was going to require very careful handling.

      If it made her happy to think the kiss had been about comfort, so be it. “Did it work?” he asked.

      “I’m fine,” she said. “Really, I just needed a minute.”

      “No problem. I’ll call you tomorrow once I’ve talked to the cops at Raoul’s school.” He got up, gave her a little wave and opened the door. “Thanks again for dinner. It was great.”

      When he got to his car, he didn’t even turn on the heat. He was plenty hot enough. One kiss and he’d been about to implode.

      Very careful handling indeed.

      Chapter Five

      Friday

      As Robert walked past Tasha’s desk, she extended a long arm. Her fingernails were bright purple. “I found the name of the cop who is pulling regular duty at Mahoney High School. Horton Davis.”

      He took the pink message slip from her. “Thanks,” Robert said. After leaving Carmen’s last night, he’d left a message for Tasha, hoping that she’d work on it first thing in the morning. He pulled his cell phone off his belt.

      He got the man’s voice mail and he left a brief message, asking for a return call. He hoped that Raoul wasn’t involved in something bad at school. He sure as hell didn’t want to break that kind of news to Carmen.

      Hot, hot Carmen Jimenez. Some women worked hard at being sexy. They wore the right clothes, the right makeup, had the look. He’d dated women like that and had appreciated their efforts and the end result.

      But Carmen didn’t seem to work at it at all. She just was.

      Didn’t matter if she was wearing a turtleneck and a skirt that almost reached her knees. It was the way she moved. Her natural grace. The effortless way she tossed her long, dark hair when it got in her way.

      She smelled sexy.

      She laughed sexy.

      Damn. He was in trouble. Had known it last night when he’d gotten to his car and had sat in the cold for five minutes, letting his body temperature return to normal. After one kiss.

      He fingered the pink message slips on his desk, the ones Tasha had handed him the day before. Mandy and Janine. Hell, maybe he should give one of them a call. Get things back into perspective.

      He didn’t pick up his phone.

      Instead, he nodded at Sawyer, who was standing across the room, in conversation with Charlene Blaze.