A Taste Of Temptation. Carrie Alexander
He stroked the tie, because she had. A poor substitute for touching her, but Donovan couldn’t allow himself any more leeway. With her beguiling ways and sexy little body, Zoe was the drug—not the lust potion.
He’d come within a hair’s breadth of handing over the remaining sample. Not because he believed the potion was legitimate. The odds were that she could have poured it over his head without consequence.
Some other time, she could have.
Right now, his lust was already off the charts.
Hers, however, could use some encouraging in his direction. While her flirtation had been well played, he hadn’t been fooled into believing that she truly wanted him.
But if he gave her the potion…
Where the hell had that idea come from? He never broke the rules of the lab.
He lurched away from her, rubbing a hand across his forehead. Think, man. Anything to get her out of here before you turn into a complete buffoon.
“I suppose I can give you a—a tip. After the results come in.” That was safe, since there’d be nothing to report except that there was nothing to report.
“Thanks.” She beamed. “When they print my article and I’m famous, I’ll call you an anonymous source.”
“If that makes you happy.” He shrugged. “Be warned—I’m not putting a rush job on this for your benefit.”
“We’ll see.” Zoe winked as if she believed he’d be chugging the potion like Dr. Jekyll the instant she departed. With a waggle of her red fingernails, she flounced out of the lab. “Ciao, handsome. I’ll be in touch.”
Donovan leaned his fists against the lab table. The muscles in his shoulders had bunched at the thought of what being in touch with Zoe Aberdeen meant. She was the type of woman who made a man lose his common sense but gain a thousand physical sensations that more than compensated.
“Yeah, we’ll be in touch,” he said hoarsely even though she was gone.
His eyes went to the beaker. He didn’t believe in lust potions for one second, but he was tantalized by her invitation to misbehave.
Besides, she’d called him handsome. He was tickled. Absurdly tickled. Even if she was only teasing, no woman had ever flirted with him quite so effectively.
4
LATER THAT DAY, Zoe rapped lightly on the open door of an office at the area precinct. “Detective Arroyo?” She walked into the detective’s office with her hand out. “I’m Zoe Aberdeen. Ethan’s friend from the paper.”
“Yes, of course. He’s mentioned you.” Nicole Arroyo pushed aside her paperwork and sprang up from her desk chair. Her handshake was vigorous, making Zoe’s bracelets clink together. “Good to meet you, Zoe. Call me Nicole.”
“I will, if you promise not to believe anything Ethan has said about me.” Zoe laughed. “Lies! All of it lies.”
Nicole didn’t respond with a riposte about the flirtatious Englishman as expected. She frowned and distractedly pushed a loose hank of dark hair behind her ear as she lowered herself into the swivel chair.
“Have a seat.” Nicole waved at a hard wooden chair set in front of her desk. The small office was crowded with a utilitarian desk, a bookshelf and an overflowing trash can. Several commendations hung on the walls, but Zoe couldn’t read them, even when she squinted. Her prescription sunglasses were perched jauntily at the top of her head because she’d been making googly eyes at the clerk who guarded the squad room. She should have sprung for laser surgery when her trust fund was flush. Another opportunity missed.
“So.” The detective rested her hands atop the stack of paperwork. “You want to know about the lust potion.”
“The clerk—” Zoe motioned toward the lobby of the police station “—laughed at me.”
Nicole picked up a pen. “I’m not surprised. The investigation is quite a source of comedy around here.”
“Yeah, I can imagine.” The atmosphere in the squad room was ripe with machismo. Blatantly admiring eyes had followed Zoe across the room as she’d made her way to the detective’s office. She’d enjoyed the attention, even put a little extra boom into her wacka-boom-boom, but dealing with the scrutiny on a daily basis would soon become a bore.
Perhaps that was why Nicole had adopted the severe look and no-nonsense attitude. Zoe considered the other woman for a moment. Nope. Not even a tight ponytail and the unflattering cut of a mannish blouse could completely hide Nicole Arroyo’s exotic, curvaceous appeal. No wonder Ethan was gaga. In his own subdued and composed British way, of course.
“And I really do mean that I can imagine.” Zoe smacked her lips as a hunky male detective passed by the open door. His massive shoulders were strapped by a leather shoulder holster with a vaguely S and M appeal. “In fact, I’d be imagining all sorts of fantasies if I worked here.”
Nicole’s gaze touched on Zoe’s clingy tank top. “Not if you wanted to be taken seriously.”
“Seriously?” Zoe said with a flippant air. “What’s that?”
Nicole’s eyes widened. “You’re exactly as Ethan described.”
“Ah—Ethan. Dear Ethan. I love him like a brother. Well, maybe a cousin. The kind of cousin who comes for a visit the summer you’re thirteen and ugly and leaves you with a nagging longing for blue eyes and disheveled hair that not even Hugh Grant movie marathons can cure.”
Nicole had been clicking the pen rapidly, over and over. With a little grin, she tossed it aside. “I know what you mean. He’s very…distracting.”
Shane’s image popped into Zoe’s head—serious, brooding, smoking-hot even when she’d made him steaming-mad. “A girl’s got to have distractions.”
Nicole leaned forward. “So what’s your interest in the lust potion?”
Zoe took out her notebook. She flicked through several pages filled with chicken scratches about designer dresses and drunken hookups. “What can you tell me about the investigation?”
“Not much.”
“Because it’s high security or because nothing’s happening?”
The corners of Nicole’s mouth twitched. “The latter.”
“Is there an investigation?”
The detective swiveled to her computer and tapped at the keyboard. Zoe squinted as data flashed across the screen. Useless. If she was going to be an investigative reporter, she’d have to learn tricks like upside down speed reading. They hadn’t taught a class like that at Amherst.
“Approximately six weeks ago, we sent a couple of officers to look into the allegations that this Jag person was ripping off tourists with a counterfeit lust potion while dealing the real stuff on the side. They returned with a sample, which we had analyzed.”
“Oh, really?” Zoe tightened her lips. Why had Shane shoveled so much bull crap when he’d already done the analysis? “Can you tell me what the results were?”
Nicole hesitated briefly. “I don’t see why not. The lab recently sent over their report.” She struck another key. “The potion is harmless, ninety-four percent water thickened with an emulsifier, plus minor percentages of plant extracts—essential oils. There were also trace amounts of ephedrine, which would explain the minor tingling sensations reported by the dissatisfied customers.”
Zoe’s high hopes landed with a thud. She wanted to tell herself she hadn’t expected otherwise, except that she had. “What about this tingling?” Kathryn had never called it minor. “Ephedrine is an amphetamine.”
“Yes, but the lab report assures that because