In Death 13 - Seduction in Death

like being shot out of a cannon. Her ears were ringing, her breath and balance gone. And all she wanted was to run her hands all over his long, bony body.
    She settled for his butt, digging her fingers in as if she could twist off a nice little chunk to keep in her pocket.
    He spun her around, struggling to get his hands under the stiff, starched jacket of her uniform. Under it, he knew her body was a wonder of curves and soft, yielding flesh. Desperate for it, he shoved her back, through the gate sensors and rapped her smartly against the iron bars.
    "Ow."
    "Sorry. Let me -- God." He buried his mouth against her neck and wondered if he could just slurp her up like ice cream.
    "I beg your pardon." The voice came from nowhere, from everywhere, and had them both goggling at each other.
    "Did you say something?" she asked.
    "No? Did you?"
    "Officer. Detective."
    Still in mid-grope, they both slid their eyes to the right and stared at the security panel on the stone pillar. Summerset, his face expressionless, stared back out from the view screen.
    "I believe the lieutenant is expecting you," he said, coolly polite. "If you take a step back from the gate, you're less likely to fall through them when they're opened."
    Peabody felt her own face flame like a scorched tomato. "Oh man. Oh shit." She shoved McNab, stepped clear, then began to tug her uniform back into place. "That was just stupid."
    "Felt good though." Somehow his kneecaps had become detached so that the first steps he took through the open gate were wobbly and disjointed. "What the hell, Peabody."
    "Just because we've got this... chemical reaction, doesn't mean we have to act on it. It just screws things up."
    He danced in front of her, walking backward. His long, sleek ponytail bobbed from side to side. His thin jacket billowed to his knees and was the color of field poppies. Despite all her good intentions, her lips twitched into a smile.
    "You're so damn goofy."
    "Why don't we get a pizza tonight? See where it goes."
    "We know where it went," she reminded him. "We don't have time to do this now, McNab. We don't have time to think about it."
    "I think about you all the time."
    That stopped her, dead in her tracks. It was tough to walk when your heart had bounced to your shoes. "You're messing me up."
    "That's the plan. A pizza, She-Body? I know how you are for pizza."
    "I'm on a diet."
    "What for?"
    The fact that he could ask, sincerely, had always charmed and baffled her. "Because my ass is approaching the same mass as Pluto."
    He circled around her as they hiked up the long curve of the drive. "Come on. You've got a great ass. It's there. A guy doesn't have to spend half his time looking for it."
    He gave it an affectionate squeeze, earned a narrowed, warning look, and grinned. He knew when he was making headway. "We'll just eat and talk. No sex."
    "Maybe. I'll think about it."
    He remembered what Roarke had advised him about romance. In a quick dash, he loped around the lawn, snapped a blossom from an ornamental pear. He caught up with Peabody at the steps, and slid the flower through the top buttonhole of her jacket.
    "Jeez," she muttered, but she strode into the house without taking the flower out.
    She was very careful to avoid direct eye contact with Summerset. And very aware of the heat creeping up her neck as he invited them to go straight up to Eve's office.
    Eve stood in the center of the room, rocking lightly on her heels as she watched the security tape again. The man was smug, she thought. And aloof. He enjoyed casting that amused glance over the crowd in the cyber-cafe, thinking everyone in there was less than he. Knowing he had a secret.
    But he also dressed to draw attention. Admiration and envy. So those who saw him understood he was more.
    He thought ahead. Was so cocksure nothing and no one could touch him. But when things had gone wrong, there was fear and panic.
    She watched the sweat dew on his face as he stared at the monitor in his cube. And she could see him, easily see him, heaving the lifeless body of Bryna Bankhead off the balcony. Get rid of the problem, she mused. The inconvenience, the threat. Then run away.
    She couldn't see him following through the very next night with another woman. With deliberate intent and cold blood.
    She turned as Peabody and McNab came in. "Run this guy's image front, back, and sideways," she ordered. "Concentrate on the facial structure, the eyes -- shape, not color -- and body type. Forget the