Sacred Sins

doors slid open she stepped inside, turned, and blocked the opening. “If you like the shape of your nose, Frank, don't try to get on this elevator with me.”
    “How about dinner and a hot tub?” he said as the doors started to close. “I know a great place for Chicken Kiev.”
    “Stuff it,” she muttered, then leaned against the back wall.
    She was nearly home before she started to laugh. It was possible, if she put her mind to it, to forget about the police car behind her, to block out the fact that on the third floor of her building cops were drinking coffee and watching the early news. A two-car accident on Twenty-third held her up an extra fifteen minutes but didn't spoil the mood she was building.
    She was humming when she unlocked the door to her apartment. After wishing briefly that she'd thought to pick up fresh flowers, she went straight to the bedroom and stripped. She chose the silk kimono again, then dumped a double shot of bubble bath under the stream of water pulsing into the tub. She took the time to put an album on the stereo. Phil Collins bounced out, happy to be alive and in love.

    So was she, Tess thought as she lowered herself into the steaming water. And tonight she was going to enjoy every minute of it.
    When Ben used his key to get in, he felt he was home. The furniture wasn't his, and he hadn't picked out the paintings, but he was home. The cardboard box was warm on the bottom, where he held it. He set it on the dining room table, on top of the linen placement he imagined had taken some little French nun the better part of a week to embroider, and wished he could crawl into bed and sleep around the clock.
    He put the paper bag he carried next to the pizza before he stripped out of his coat and let it fall over the back of a chair. Peeling off his shoulder holster, he dropped it on the seat.
    He could smell her. Even here, barely three steps inside the door, he could smell her. Soft, subtle, elegant. Drawing her in, he found fatigue warring against a need he'd yet to find a way to curb.
    “Tess?”
    “Back here. I'm in the tub. I'll be out in a minute.”
    He followed her scent and the sound of water. “Hi.” When she glanced up at him, he believed he saw her color rise a bit. Funny lady, he thought as he moved over to sit on the edge of the tub. She could make a man pant in bed, but she blushed when he caught her in a bubble bath.
    “I didn't know how long you'd be.” She stopped herself from sinking farther under the cover of bubbles.
    “Just had to tie up a few things.”
    Embarrassment faded as quickly as it had come. “It was a rough one, wasn't it? You look exhausted.”
    “Let's just say it was one of the less pleasant days on the job.”
    “Want to talk about it?”
    He thought of the blood. Even in his business you didn't often see that much. “No, not now.”

    She sat up to reach over and touch his face. “There's room in here for two, if you're friendly. Why don't you take Dr. Court's reliable prescription for overwork?”
    “The pizza'll get cold.”
    “I love cold pizza.” She began to unbutton his shirt. “You know, I had a rather strange day myself, ending with an invitation for Chicken Kiev and a hot tub.”
    “Oh?” He rose to unsnap his pants. The feeling that went through him was ugly, and unrecognizable to a man who'd never experienced basic jealousy before. “Doesn't seem too smart to turn that down for cold pizza and bubbles.”
    “More fool me for refusing an evening with the handsome, successful, and excruciatingly boring Dr. Fuller.”
    “More your type,” Ben muttered, sitting on the john to pull off his shoes.
    “Boring's more my type?” Tess lifted a brow as she leaned back. “Thank you very much.”
    “I mean the doctor, the three-piece suits, the Gold American Express Card.”
    “I see.” Amused, she began to soap her leg. “You don't have a gold card?”
    “I'm lucky Sears still lets me charge my underwear.”
    “Well, in that case, I don't know if I should invite you into my tub.”
    He stood, naked but for the jeans riding low at his hips. “I'm serious, Tess.”
    “I can see that.” She took a handful of bubbles and studied them. “I guess that means you see me as a shallow, materialistic, status-minded woman who's willing to slum it occasionally for good sex.”
    “I don't mean anything like that.” Frustrated, he sat on the lip of the tub again. “Look, I've got a job that means I deal with slime almost on a