Page 21 of Triggered By Love
“It goes together, unfortunately, although I don’t think it has to be exclusive. We only have to be seen at a few parties and the Fashion Week activities.”
“Well, I don’t like the thought of you dating anyone.” Joan pursed her lips and heaved her shoulders. “But you’re still young and you have your entire life ahead of you. It would be selfish of me to have you spending Friday evenings with me.”
“Not at all, Joan. I love our dinners and get-togethers. We can watch that show tonight and listen to music together,” Avery said. “I brought the afghan I’m working on.”
“You’ll always be the daughter-in-law I wished to have.” She shook her head sadly. “But I don’t think Brando would have wanted you to give up on living. He loved you so very much, Avery. He would want you to be happy.”
“I’m not going to be happy fake dating Matt Swanson,” Avery said. She lightened what she was about to say with a giggle. “Come on, Joan, stop being so dramatic. Me and you know the truth. I’d gladly be your daughter-in-law in spirit. No one will ever take Brando’s place in my heart.”
“You sure you’re not fooling yourself?” Joan’s eyes narrowed in a speculative manner. “I detected some consternation surrounding that handsome detective. He stirs you up, doesn’t he? And you’re fighting it.”
“You would too if every time you see him, you see blood and hear yourself scream. I wish he’d solve the case, and then I’d never have to see or think about him again. Ever.”
Chapter Eight
SeeingAvery again up close was triggering Jason in directions he didn’t want to go. It was hard standing so close to her that he could let her lavender-scented perfume go to his head. It was pure torture to banter with her and act casual in front of Mrs. Bonet while trying to keep his mind off bending her back and kissing the life out of her.
His body memorized every touch from her hands, even the punch in his back, but he’d only had her in his arms once—while she was covered with blood and he was shoving her away from the gunman.
After leaving Joan’s apartment, he’d grabbed a bite to eat while hurrying back to the precinct with Blade to enter in the notes from interviewing a witness to a hit and run, and now, hours later, he was free.
Free to wait for Avery and see that she got home. Or free to follow up on a lead. The man with the wraparound sunglasses had appeared on the security camera of a store nearby, and he had a credible excuse to go up and speak to Miss Renzi again.
She answered the buzzer, and he said, “I have a few pictures I want to show you.”
“Detective Burnett. I already said I don’t want to pursue any charges.” Her voice was clipped and impatient.
“How about a professional consultation then? I’m in need of anger management.”
“You can call my office for that,” she said. “Leave a message.”
“I’m speaking with you right now. It might be easier to buzz me in so I can make an appointment.”
“If you’re going to make an appointment just to show me a few pictures, you’re wasting your time,” she said. “I can refer you to a colleague. I’d think there’s a conflict of interest here. You’ve seen me in a nonprofessional manner.”
“Then what’s the harm in my coming up to show you a few pictures? It won’t take any time.”
“Pushy bastard, aren’t you?” She sighed so loudly he was sure she was on the verge of relenting.
“One or the other,” he chuckled.
“Both, but I still won’t press charges.” She buzzed him in.
Jason’s heartbeat sped as he hit the elevator to Mrs. Bonet’s floor. Usually Avery stayed for the late-night show, so she would still be in the building. With any luck, she’d let him drive her home instead of taking a cab.
Armed with the pictures of the wraparound guy, Jason knocked on Tatiana Renzi’s door.
She opened the door swiftly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re stalking me. What do you have?”
Jason spread the grainy images in front of her. “I got printouts from a security camera. Is this the guy?”
“You’re borrowing trouble, you know,” Tatiana said. “I’d leave it alone if I were you.”
“Why? Is he organized crime?”
“You could put it that way.” She laughed, seemingly more relaxed because she gestured him in with the beer bottle she was holding. “Want one?”
“Can’t drink on the job,” he said. “Since I’m here, you mind if I lift fingerprints?”
