Got Your Number

of the opportunity to study him.
    His profile remained rigid, even in repose. But his brow was more relaxed and his jaw unclenched, shaving years from his face. His beard, darker than his auburn hair, hovered just below the surface of his skin. His tousled hair gave him a boyish appearance, and she could easily imagine him at twenty-five, eighteen, twelve, six years old.
    Capistrano stirred and his arm tightened around her involuntarily. Not an unpleasant feeling. His head was propped up on two pillows, and the sheet rode down to his waist. Massive shoulders and arms, impressive pecs, and a narrow waist. She decided she liked the hairy chest after all—it was...insulating. His morning call tented the sheet and sent a twinge to her thighs.
    This was the kind of man, she realized, that incited career women to trade in their navy pumps for a breast pump—being around a man so male couldn't help but make you feel vigorously female. Her ovaries were probably straining against her birth control at this very moment.
    Across the room, a phone pealed—his cell phone. Since he was immediately awake and across the room in three strides, she imagined he'd been awakened similarly many times before.
    "Yeah?" he said, rubbing his eyes with thumb and forefinger. His hair stuck out at odd angles. Seconds later, he smiled—whoever was on the other end was someone he was glad to hear from. "Oh, hi, Betty...no, it's fine. Just a late night is all."
    She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed and covered herself with a towel. Her limbs ached.
    "Really? That's great . I'm headed home today, so I'll stop by tomorrow...sure thing, see you then." He disconnected the call, his sleepy face wreathed in smiles. "That was my partner's wife—Lafferty came out of the coma this morning. The doctors say he has a good chance of a full recovery."
    Roxann's smile mirrored his. "That is good news." And a fitting close to their time together. From the rueful look on his face, she knew he was thinking the same thing.
    "I thought I'd go to the hospital early this morning to see Angora," she said with forced animation. "And I need to call Melissa, and Nell, and Dad and...Triple-A."
    He nodded. "I guess I need to get on the road myself."
    She hadn't had a one-night stand in so long, she'd forgotten how awkward the morning after could be. After a strained silence, he turned and disappeared into the bathroom—a strategy she'd used herself a few times. Taking her cue, she dressed hurriedly and tamed her hair, then straightened the covers—an unmade bed seemed so... reproachful . Then she called her road-service club and arranged to have Goldie towed to a nearby tire place.
    The call to Melissa was difficult, but since she'd witnessed Frank's death, she felt obligated to tell her. Melissa cried, but Roxann wondered how much of the emotion was relief that she was finally rid of the man.
    And she was talking to her father when Capistrano emerged, shaved and combed. There was something very disconcerting about talking to your father on the phone when there was a naked man in the room.
    She averted her eyes. "So I should be in Baton Rouge by Wednesday."
    "Are you bringing Angora home?"
    "I suspect she'll go home with her parents once we get things wrapped up."
    "Will you be able to stay here for a while?"
    "If you...don't mind."
    "That would be nice," he said. "Now that the case is solved, will you still be seeing that Capistrano fellow?"
    She looked at Capistrano, who had donned jeans and was pulling a T-shirt over his head. She cupped her hand over the mouthpiece. "Dad, I was never seeing him."
    "Tell him I said thank you for keeping an eye on my best girl."
    She blinked. "O...kay." Her father had never called her his best anything. "I'll be there in a couple of days, all right?" She hung up the phone, marveling.
    "I'm sure your father's relieved," Capistrano offered, then pulled on a dark green sweatshirt over the T-shirt.
    "He said to give you his thanks for...taking care of me."
    He pursed his mouth and sat down on the opposite bed to pull on socks and athletic shoes. "It was my pleasure," he said without looking up. He finished tying, then stood. "Did you call someone about your van?"
    She bristled at his insinuation that she needed to be reminded. "Contrary to popular belief, Detective, I've been taking care of myself for a long time. And outside of maniacal stalkers, I think I've done pretty well."
    His eyebrows rose. "I'm getting the hint