Sweet Seduction Shield(5)

I sucked in a fortifying breath, thanked the powers that be for Suzy's presence, and offered a reassuring smile and nod of my head.

"A good idea, Suze." I stood again, making the cop come to his feet as well. "The detective was just leaving. If you could show him out, I'll grab some medication from the lunch room."

A huff of a breath escaped Pierce's lips. He was still standing too close, so I heard the soft incredulous exhalation. I flicked him a challenging look. Suzy's appearance had given me the impetus I needed to don my shield again. With a confident smile, I offered Detective Pierce my hand to shake. A more clear message for him to leave I could not have given.

I expected him to take my hand, to slink away as my tone had implied he should. Not too many men can stand up to the ice princess treatment. It's what has gotten me so far, in such a short amount of time, in a male dominated industry. Plus, I'm very particular with numbers, a must-have skill for any accountant.

Those working within the law and outside of it.

I banished that thought before it could crack my protection; my confidence. I was too close to losing it again, yet so close to being able to run.

"Ms Cox," Pierce said, taking my hand just as expected. I allowed the sensation of warmth, his large palm engulfing my smaller one gave me, to invade my body. Melting a little of the ice, but not cracking it.

My smile turned genuine and I saw a flicker of male interest in his eyes. Any other time and I would have been tempted to investigate that look further. But now was definitely not the time.

"I'm afraid we really do need your assistance," the detective said, making the small amount of heat that had reached my body, through his still firm grip on my hand, shatter. "If your office is not a convenient place for that to occur, then perhaps you'll accompany me to the station."

There was no third option. His tone brooked no argument. Either talk to him here or at the Police Station. Now.

I held his determined gaze and saw a different man than the one who had first appeared in my office. This man I could see chasing criminals. I could have played the illness card, made my headache - and I did have one - more debilitating than it was. But in a moment of unprecedented surprise, he flashed a challenging look right back at me. One that matched my own.

The bastard was calling my bluff.

Well, he could ask his questions, but that didn't mean he'd get answers. And now I had my game face on. I'd seen the real him; the focused, determined, take no prisoners, him.

Fear still left a bitter taste on my tongue, but I would never let him see it. I tilted my head, smiled knowingly, and pulled my hand from his grasp.

"Coffee?" I asked with my most accommodating smile. "Or tea?"

Without missing a beat, he replied, "Coffee. Milk, no sugar, please."

"I'll get right on that," Suzy said, already running from the scene as fast as her platform heels could take her. That's why she was still a receptionist. She lacked the balls to play with the big boys. Not that I blamed her. In a perfect world, I may have been content sitting at the front desk as well. Necessity had made me who I am today. And I really didn't know if that was a good thing.

"Well, let's start this again, shall we?" I offered, indicating his chair on the other side of my desk with a flick of my hand.

Detective Pierce offered a half smile, that could almost be called a grimace, and returned to his seat.

"What do you want to know, Detective?" I asked, leaning back in my chair and crossing my legs. Even from his seated position across my desk he caught the flash of skin on my leg as I performed the manoeuvre.

Putty in my hands.

"Your husband," he said, no longer beating around the bush, and no longer offering the query laced with a gentle tone. It wasn't harsh, as such, just all business. Maybe he had my number too.

"Richard Costello," I replied, then threaded my fingers together in front of me, elbows resting on the arms of my chair.

"When did you last see him?" he asked, surprising me for a second, as I had expected him to go straight for the throat again. Working up to it?

"Over five years ago. I don't have an exact date." I did, but I wouldn't tell him. That night was etched on my mind and would be forever.

"Where did you last see him?" he asked, pulling a small notepad and pen from his inside jacket pocket. So, this was how it would play? He'd pull each sliver of information from me, until it all came tumbling out at the end.

"Wellington," I replied. Two could play this game.

His amused eyes flicked up to mine. "You wouldn't have an exact location, would you?"

"I'm sorry." I wasn't. "I don't remember."

The pad and pen were placed in his lap with care and he let a long breath of air out on a sigh. His gaze looking around the office, taking in my small, unimpressive artwork, the pot plants and the half-view of Queen Street from my window off to the side.