Undone by Moonlight. Wendy Etherington

get back to both. Trevor’s patient as a saint, of course, but an emergency video chat with my girlfriends is enough to drive any groom to frustration.”

      “Thanks for the pep talk,” Calla said. “Both of you.”

      “Tell Devin I’ll make him some of my special cookies when I get back,” Shelby said. “My next catering gig isn’t for a while.”

      “And if he decides to blow off the NYPD and these bogus charges,” Victoria added, “I’m sure Jared would be glad to take him off to Borneo or somewhere equally unextraditable.”

      Calla’s throat tightened. “You guys are the best. Coffee’s on me next week.”

      Victoria’s lips winged up. “Wedding pictures and a plan to clear a friend on an assault charge. Only the three of us could have a coffee date like that.”

      After they signed off, Calla slumped on the sofa. Her and her buddies’ latest adventures had included sending a fraudulent investor to prison and solving the theft of a cursed multimillion-dollar diamond-and-sapphire necklace.

      How hard could it be to convince the NYPD of the innocence of their determined, clever, though admittedly irascible, friend? Possibly without said friend’s help?

      She closed her laptop and leaned her head back. Who was she kidding? For months she’d lived in a fantasy world concerning Devin. The text, the craziness of last night and the impulsive kiss were all she had as any kind of evidence that he might want her, too.

      And all of those events could be attributed to some sort of altered state.

      He always comes to the rescue when you call him.

      Super. If only she were the one suspended and accused of assault.

      Maybe he was right. Maybe she should back out and let him deal with his problems on his own.

      He’d never desert you.

      Frustrated with the whole mess, and especially her interfering conscience, she rose. She needed a strong cup of tea and a big piece of leftover wedding cake.

      On the way to the kitchen, she glanced at the plastic pharmacy bottle sitting on the counter. His pain meds.

      Victoria was right. He’d be back.

      Unless he found a liquor store open on Sundays.

       4

      DEVIN SHIFTED HIS WEIGHT and stared at the carpeted floor outside Calla’s apartment.

      He was never indecisive. What was wrong with him?

      A head injury was too convenient to blame. Embarrassment over his suspension was whiney. Overwhelmed by a beautiful woman’s kiss was damned humiliating.

      That left regret.

      But his DNA didn’t include contrition. His personal motto was trudge on and forward and forget the crappy past that couldn’t be changed.

      Her touch and scent lingered on his skin. Weak and dizzy, he longed to give into the comfort she’d offered. To bury himself in her body, hold her against him beneath cool sheets, feel her breath heave, her pulse gather speed.

      But she was too pure and perfect for him. He’d taint her somehow. He came from bad stock and had no doubt of a golden upbringing for her that included luxuries like regular meals and consistent lighting and heat. He imagined her dad as some big guy with a Stetson, a firm hand, but broad smile for his beauty queen daughter.

      His old man had done a dime for armed robbery, and Devin hadn’t seen him since he’d mooched four hundred bucks and taken off for parts unknown eight years ago.

      He leaned his head against her door, bracing himself. He’d mistakenly given into his urges once before. The results hadn’t been pretty.

      Added to those crappy memories was the incessant pounding in his head. He wasn’t thinking straight, and only Calla held the relief he needed—in more ways than one. He was weak and, for once, he needed somebody to share the burden.

      Acknowledging he’d been stalling, he knocked on the door.

      She answered wearing jeans, a gray sweater and a scowl.

      “I shouldn’t have taken off so abruptly,” he said in a rush.

      She raised her eyebrows. “That’s almost an apology.”

      Was he really such an ass to her? Uncomfortable with the idea, he shifted his weight. “Sorry. I did—do appreciate your help.”

      “Uh-huh. Did you also suddenly remember I have your pain pills?”

      He winced. “That crossed my mind.”

      After a lengthy pause, she opened the door wide. “Damned if I don’t owe Victoria twenty bucks.”

      “I haven’t forgotten I owe you for last night,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

      “You’ve bailed me and my friends out of several messes the last few months.” She shook two white tablets out of the prescription bottle she scooped off the kitchen counter and handed them to him with a glass of water. “I think we can call it even.”

      He swallowed the pills, though he knew the medicine would muddle his thoughts. Anything was better than the jackhammer that seemed to have taken up permanent residence between his ears.

      She sat on the sofa and picked up a legal pad from the coffee table. “So who wants to frame you?” she asked, all business.

      He sat beside her, keeping a safe distance. The last thing his confused brain needed was more kissing, though from her tone so far he guessed he’d blown another chance anyway. “Who doesn’t? I’ve arrested a lot of people over the last fifteen years.”

      Her pen poised, she rolled her eyes. “Specifics, Detective. Names, dates, circumstances.”

      “That’ll take days.”

      “You’ve got other plans?”

      He peeked at the pad and saw it contained a record of everything that had happened the night before, along with times and locations. “Case notes? That’s something cops do.”

      “It’s what writers do, too. So spill.”

      “I’ve been involved with hundreds, maybe thousands of busts. I’ll need access to the files at the department.”

      “What’s the chance of Meyer letting you do that?”

      “Zero.”

      “You’ve got friends inside the department, right? Somebody who can pass on information, give us details about the case against you?”

      He shook his head. “I doubt anyone would risk their own job to break the law and help me. I wouldn’t ask them to.”

      “You don’t have friends, then.”

      “Not everybody is as tight-knit as you and your gang.”

      She scowled. “We’re not a gang, and you shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss, as you’re going to need us in the coming weeks.”

      Weeks? Devin fought a cold sweat. His vow not to get mixed up with Calla was shaky after they’d spent a few hours together. He’d never last weeks.

      Or would he? Was he making too much out of their attraction? He’d been working virtually nonstop the past few weeks, closing several cases. He needed … companionship. Maybe if he gave into his urges, he’d get her out of his system. Then he could be in the same room with her without panting.

      Although telling her that plan would buy him a oneway ticket out the door.

      She waved her hand in front of his face. “Gone to la-la land already?”

      No way. He’d be in a better mood if he had. “This whole thing will be cleared