Cook's Night Out by Joanne Pence Read Free Book Online Page A

upset about the bizarre evidence switch in court. Evidence switching might be a problem at the moment, but she needed to talk about the future—about them. Her career, his career, and their life together. She had arranged a lovely, romantic evening for the two of them to share, and now she had to get Paavo to agree to spend it withher. Of course, if he said he was too busy to go with her, he’d find out that little Italian-American women in a bad mood were not to be trifled with.
    She roared into one of the twenty-minute parking spaces outside the Hall of Justice, marched through the metal detectors, and rode the elevator to the fourth floor. Her peach-colored Carole Little suit with its short straight skirt, fitted jacket, linen shell top with a low scoop neck, and matching high-heeled pumps caused heads to turn. She hoped she’d get that kind of reaction from Paavo.
    Room 450 was quiet. The secretary had left for the day, and most of the homicide inspectors had either gone home or were out on a case. Past the reception area the room was cluttered with computer terminals, books and papers all askew atop desks, bookcases, and file cabinets. At a far desk, near windows facing innercity blight, sat Paavo, so lost in his papers he hadn’t even heard her come in.
    She’d only taken one step into the room, though, when he looked up. The top button of his pale blue shirt was unfastened, his tie was loose, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. Beneath his large blue eyes were shadows of weariness; his face looked drawn and his dark brown hair was mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it. Her anger evaporated as she wondered how he was feeling, if he’d eaten today, and when he’d last had a good night’s sleep.
    â€œAngie,” he said, surprised.
    â€œGrab your coat, Inspector. I’m springing you from this joint.” She forced a cheerful note into her voice.
    â€œI’d like to, but I’ve got a lot to do—”
    â€œAre you and Yosh on call tonight?” she asked, her arms folded.
    â€œNo, but—”
    â€œNo buts. You’ve worked hard enough, long enough.A movie, then dinner. I’m going to get you to relax if it kills me.”
    â€œAngie, I don’t have time for a movie.”
    â€œLook around, Paavo.” She gave him a moment to do as she asked. “The place is empty. It means other people have things to do besides sit here and work. You can leave for a little while. It won’t fall apart without you.”
    She walked up to him, moved to the side the papers he’d been working on, then sat down on top of his desk blotter. He eased back in his chair, his lips twitching slightly at her audacity. Ignoring his expression, she lifted his pen from his fingers, put its cap on, then tossed it to a corner of the desk. “It’s a short movie. A classic. Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast . I couldn’t get dinner reservations until nine anyway.”
    â€œI already know how Beauty and the Beast ends,” he said.
    He could be maddeningly practical. “That’s not the point, Inspector.”
    â€œThe point is the time.”
    â€œOne evening won’t matter.”
    â€œAngie…” He sounded exasperated.
    â€œPaavo…,” she mocked, imitating his tone.
    He stared at her, then shook his head. Slowly his mouth spread into a grin. “Maybe you’re right,” he murmured. Relief washed over her.
    He placed his hands on her knees, his fingers stroking her sheer silk hose. His touch made her toes curl.
    â€œSo, Miss Amalfi, you’ve come to rescue me, have you?” His voice took on a deep huskiness.
    â€œThat’s right. I’ll drag you out of here kicking and screaming if I have to.”
    â€œIs that so?” He slowly rose out of his chair and, leaning forward, moved his hands to either side of her thighs, his large, square-shouldered body towering