Forbidden Lover. Amanda Stevens

at him apologetically. “I’m sorry. But I was just reminded this afternoon how vital it is to safeguard our forensic work.”

      “No apology necessary,” Dawson said smoothly. “As Dean Stanton correctly pointed out, your discretion is admirable. A cocktail party is not the place for such a discussion.” The look he gave Dean Stanton was almost frigid, and Stanton, in turn, glared angrily at Erin. There was no mistaking who would get the blame for his faux pas.

      Just then, a woman behind Ed Dawson turned and came to join them. She looked to be in her late fifties, probably around Dawson’s age, but she was still a very pretty woman, with a nice complexion and short, dark hair. The green silk dress she wore was exactly right for her age and her coloring, and the smile she flashed Erin was the first genuine show of friendliness she’d seen all evening.

      Ed Dawson took her hand and pulled her forward. “I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine. This is Maggie Gallagher,” he said to the group, but his gaze remained on Erin. “She has three sons who are in the Detective Division. It’s possible you may cross paths with one of them in the future, Dr. Casey.”

      Startled, Erin stared at the woman for a moment. Maggie Gallagher’s features, especially her blue eyes, were very like the detective’s Erin had met earlier that day. Were Dawson’s words prophetic, or did he know Nick Gallagher had already been to see her?

      She gave Maggie a tentative smile. “Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Gallagher.”

      “Call me Maggie,” the woman said warmly.

      “And I’m Erin.”

      “You look so young to be a doctor!”

      “I’m a Ph.D.,” Erin explained.

      “Dr. Casey is a forensic anthropologist,” Dawson said. “She consults with the Chicago Police Department, as well as other law enforcement organizations throughout the Midwest.”

      Maggie Gallagher couldn’t quite hide her surprise. “A forensic anthropologist. That means you work with—”

      “Bones,” Erin supplied. “Skeletal remains. I help with identification.”

      “She does much more than that,” Dawson said, his expression almost grim. “A good forensic anthropologist can also determine cause and manner of death. Their expert testimony has helped us convict countless murderers who would have otherwise gone free.”

      “My goodness.” Maggie looked dutifully impressed. “Are you here with your husband, Dr. Casey?”

      “I’m not married.”

      Maggie’s brows lifted ever so slightly. “I’ll be sure to tell my sons that I met you.”

      Three sons in the police department, Erin mused. And by the looks of things, Maggie Gallagher and the superintendent were a little more than mere acquaintances. His hand rested possessively on her back, and when Maggie glanced up at him, the two exchanged a look that was unmistakable.

      He bent down to say something to her, and Erin used the interlude to make her escape. Murmuring her excuses to Dean Stanton, she drifted away, melting once more into the crowd.

      She wondered if she could slip away altogether and not be noticed. She still had to go by the lab and pack her equipment for the excavation, then call Detective Gallagher…

      Lost in thought about the next day’s work, she jumped slightly when someone said her name. She turned, meeting Superintendent Dawson’s cool gaze, and again Erin felt a vague uneasiness. As head of the Chicago Police Department, he was a very important man. She wanted to believe her disquiet was a result of his title and position, but there was something else about him, a hardness in his eyes that could have been the result of his years on the police force, but somehow Erin suspected it was not.

      She thought him a cold man, perhaps even cruel, and she had a hard time picturing a woman like Maggie Gallagher being drawn to him. But then again, he wasvery attractive. In some ways, charismatic, which could make him a very dangerous man.

      “I hope you don’t mind my seeking you out like this,” he said.

      “Of course not,” she lied.

      “I wanted to tell you again how much I appreciate your discretion. I know Dean Stanton can be—shall we say—persuasive, and I admire the way you held your ground with him.”

      Erin wished she could take pleasure in Dawson’s praise, but something told her he had an ulterior motive for his comments. “Discretion is part of my job,” she said with a light shrug. “Just as it is with yours.”

      “Actually, your job is what I’d like to talk to you about.” He smiled down at her, but Erin couldn’t detect a single note of warmth or amusement in his eyes. “I don’t like uncleared cases, but unfortunately, our files are full of Jane and John Does, many of them homicides whose perpetrators were never apprehended because the victims couldn’t be identified. Your work is extremely important to CPD, Dr. Casey. Make no mistake about that.”

      “I appreciate that,” Erin told him. “My work is very important to me, too.”

      “Your dedication is obvious.” He hesitated, then said pensively, “I’m wondering if you might be interested in participating on a task force I’m putting together for our Missing Persons Bureau. Your input could be invaluable.”

      An alarm sounded inside Erin, but she tried to keep her tone and expression neutral. “I’m flattered, but my work here at the university keeps me very busy.”

      “I understand. But I’d like to come by your lab someday soon and discuss the project with you anyway. If you wouldn’t have any objection.”

      His tone implied that he certainly didn’t expect her to object, but she did. Apart from her heavy schedule at Hillsboro, Erin had no intention of getting involved in a police department task force. She would consult on cases within the safe confines of the university, but she would not risk questions about her background. Erin had always been very careful about keeping a low profile, even on cases that had caught the attention of the media. Now that she had returned to Chicago, it was more important than ever that she adhere to those rules. If her father were to ever find out she was here…

      Who are you kidding? a little voice taunted Erin. Her presence in Chicago would make no difference to her father whatsoever. He’d gladly given away his rights to her when she was a baby, hadn’t he? Relinquished all claims, legal and otherwise, in order to retain sole custody of the son he’d cherished, the only child he’d ever wanted.

      She glanced up at Dawson, and it almost seemed, by the flicker in his gray eyes, that he knew what she’d been thinking. Had he somehow found out her real name, her true identity? Erin doubted it. If he knew she was from an infamous Chicago crime family, he wouldn’t be asking her to sit on a police task force, would he?

      “I’ll have my secretary call you in a day or two,” he advised. “And I must warn you, Dr. Casey, I usually don’t take no for an answer.”

      And I must warn you, Erin thought in annoyance, I don’t take orders very well, not even from the superintendent of the Chicago Police Department.

      “DR. CASEY, isn’t it? Mary Alice Stanton.” The dean’s wife blocked Erin’s path to the front door, where she had hoped to quietly slip out unnoticed. “I’m so happy to finally meet you. Phil’s been raving about your credentials ever since you accepted the position here at Hillsboro.”

      Erin shook hands with the woman. “That’s nice to hear,” she murmured, although she couldn’t imagine Dean Stanton raving about anyone or anything. And after her less than sterling performance with Ed Dawson, whatever admiration Dean Stanton might have been harboring for her would have quickly evaporated.

      On closer examination, the dean’s wife was a little older than Erin had first thought, probably around thirty. They were contemporaries, but for the life of her, Erin couldn’t think of a single thing to say to the woman. Mary Alice was beautiful, sexy and