“Detective Shawn Tranner.”
I smiled. His voice was nice and made me a little warm, which was irritating. I wasn’t about to jump into another empty physical relationship with an emotionally unavailable man. “Hello, this Casey Andrews.”
“Ah, yes, my mysterious neighbor. I’ve made an appointment with a security firm to install the system. They’ll need access to your apartment.”
“When?”
“Thursday at one p.m.”
“I’ll put in on my calendar.” I picked up my handheld and tucked the headset between my shoulder and neck. “Detective, huh?”
“I got my gold badge about two years ago.”
“So you don’t work the street?”
“Only as an investigator.”
Not as dangerous, I thought. I glanced toward Jane Tilwell. Jane had been a cop in Georgia until she’d been shot in the line of duty. “Well, I was thinking I could bring home something for dinner and we could get to know one another.”
“Sounds good. I’m on shift until about six.”
“Pizza or Chinese?”
“Chinese is good.”
I relaxed a little in my chair and smiled. “Good. I’ll see you then.”
Ending the call, I began to self-lecture. The sexy jogger neighbor was off limits sexually. He had to be. I can’t jump from one man to another like some woman on a cable show. Well, I shouldn’t jump from one man to another. My sexuality had always been both a hindrance and an asset for me. I enjoyed sex and liked to have it, a lot.
I figured that ending my relationship with Connor, such as it was, would have some rather frustrating repercussions. However, my body was not in charge of my life and I was finished with heeding its call over my better judgment. Detective Shawn Tranner was my neighbor and would remain just that.
Rearranging my calendar to accommodate Kenneth Victor was as irritating as just about anything can be. Kenneth was a talented artist and worked in many forms. He had several homes and one was in Boston. Since he’d only just finished a run in New York, I’d figured it would be six to eight months before he’d come back to Boston for another show. I’d been mistaken, and it was irritating. He’d never done a small special-focus show so I hadn’t anticipated that interest. It would allow for a smaller, more limited, collection and it would require more of my attention.
The first time I’d met Kenneth he’d asked me out. Milton Storey had been the director of the gallery at the time and had insinuated strongly that I should do anything to make the artist happy. I’d told them both to shove it. Milton hadn’t been stupid enough to fire me for it. Thankfully, that troll had been gone from the gallery for quite a while.
“Kenneth Victor?”
I looked up from my computer. Mercy was standing there. “Yes?”
“The last time he was here he asked for you specifically. This time he’s asking that you personally handle not only his arrangements but also his show.”
I flushed bright red with embarrassment. “I’ve done nothing to encourage his requests.”
“I realize that.”
“We all do things we hate for the sake of the foundation.”
“Yes.”
“If he gets out of line, I’ll take care of it.”
“Just keep me informed.” She frowned and crossed her arms. “I don’t like it at all.”
“I appreciate that.” I smiled and almost laughed. “I really do. I can take care of myself, promise.”
“The guy from last night?”
I shoved my chopsticks into the rice in front of me and picked up the little box it was in. “Well, we had a relationship. It’s over and he didn’t exactly agree.”
“Men don’t appreciate having their supply cut off.”
I glared at him briefly and then started to laugh. “Very rude thing to say.”
“I’ve gotten a good look at that body you’re hiding in that big T-shirt. Can’t see how I can blame the man for being a little pissed about losing you.”
I couldn’t help but preen a little under the warmth of his gaze. Shawn Tranner was the kind of man who made a woman feel sexy and feminine with just a look.
“He never really had me.” I grabbed a pack of soy sauce for the rice and met his gaze across my coffee table. “How about you? Got a girlfriend, militant ex-wife, or a side piece?”
“No, yes, not right now.”
“So why did you get divorced?”
“I wanted children and she didn’t. I thought we could talk about it and she took a surgical option to prevent accidental pregnancy.”
“Nice.”
“I came home from a conference and she was recovering from having her tubes tied. Stunned barely covered my feelings on the subject. She’d altered the course of our future without even giving me a choice. I filed for divorce.”
“I take it she wasn’t happy?”
“No. She considered our divorce a failure and Dana doesn’t do failure. By the end of it, I’d forgotten why I ever loved her in the first place.”
“Ouch.” I sat back against the couch and poked that rice a little before snagging a piece of chicken out of one of the containers between us. “How do you like the neighborhood?”
“It’s interesting. Everyone I met was happy to have a cop on the block.”
I had no doubts. The neighborhood was full of widows and single women with children. I’m sure half of them had spent the morning loitering on their front steps to watch him jog around in his little red shorts. It had occurred to me that I should warn him about that, but it would also be sort of amusing to watch the women chase him around. I could even get some cookies or brownies out of it. Lois across the street made amazing peanut-butter cookies.
“Tell me about your job.”
I glanced up from my food and smiled. “You’ll find it boring.”
“I promise to at least pretend to be interested in it.”
“Okay, I’ll remember that. I’m a buyer and negotiate the resale of fine-art pieces for the Holman Gallery. The gallery is the cornerstone of the Holman Foundation. It’s also my job to supervise the administration staff for the gallery and work as Jane Tilwell’s assistant. So, I wine and dine artists on occasion as well.”
“And Jane is?”
“The assistant director of the gallery.” I snagged a piece of broccoli from a container near him and shrugged. “The foundation is a nonprofit organization dedicated to helping children and families in Boston. We use the money we make with the gallery for the arts academy and the shelters.”
“It must be very rewarding to know that every day you help someone else have a better life.”
Yeah. That was pretty awesome. “A world without art would be a boring world.” I tilted my head and looked over his face. He didn’t look like he was pretending. “So, what about you? Why are you a cop instead of an accountant?”
“Well, math was not my favorite subject in school. I studied criminal justice in college with the intention to go to law school.” He shrugged, but I could tell the question had made him tense. “Four months from graduation, I decided that law school was not in my future. Nothing extraordinary happened…I had the grades and had already been accepted into three schools.