TAMED | FREENBECKY

19

Freen was right—when Becca explained to Dasha that she was going out of town and didn't want Becca to be alone, Dasha couldn't have looked more pleased about being designated her bodyguard for the night. So pleased, in fact, that it took every bit of Becca's willpower to shove down the irritation she felt at Dasha's failure to hide her smug glee. But she did, because she was glad for Dasha's company. She didn't want to spend the night in her apartment wondering if the West Gate Park killer was lurking in the shadows.

When Dasha mentioned cooking her dinner, Becca knew she would have to be on guard. Cooking was a wooing tactic for Dasha, probably used successfully on far more women than Becca wanted to imagine. It had certainly worked on her, once upon a time. After turning down Dasha's last dinner invitation, Becca knew that Dasha saw this Evening as a second chance.

Dasha said dinner was at five thirty, which meant she'd decided to leave work early to prepare their meal. She didn't doubt that Dasha wanted to make sure they were together well before dark, but she suspected that Dasha was also just plain excited about finally getting Becca over to her place again. Still, Becca wouldn't complain about the early meal. She didn't particularly want to be out late anyway. Tonight was the full moon, and though Becca wasn't superstitious, she recognized that the lunar cycle sometimes played into the patterns of psychopaths. The first murder had been committed the night of the previous full moon.

Becca left the lab early and was at Dasha's door ten minutes before she was due. She intended to spend the night discussing the case, so along with a bottle of wine, she carried a stack of forensic reports. Poring over case files would be the best use of their time together and would keep things professional, which was exactly where Becca wanted their relationship to stay.

Dasha answered the door wearing an apron and a brilliant smile. "Hey. Fajitas will be ready in about five minutes."

"Great." Awkwardly, Becca offered her the bottle cradled against her side. Bringing wine had seemed like the thing to do until the moment she smelled Dasha's cologne and saw that Dasha was wearing the purple shirt that had always turned Becca on when they were together. Apparently Dasha had decided to be blatant about being in full seduction mode. Alcohol really didn't need to be introduced into the mix, but it was a bit late for that now.

"I brought the forensic reports on our two victims. I figured we'd comb through them to see what we've missed."

Dasha ushered Becca inside. "Of course. But let's eat first, have a glass of wine. Unwind a little." She looked Becca up and down, then kissed her cheek. "You look lovely."

Becca stiffened. "This isn't a date, Dasha."

"I know that." Glancing at the bottle's label, Dasha whistled. "My favorite."

"It's a thank-you for giving up your evening to babysit me." Becca followed Dasha to the kitchen. She stood at the counter as Dasha set the wine down, then checked her sizzling skillet of peppers and onions. "I hate knowing I messed up your plans."

Dasha shook her head. "No plans. There's no place I'd rather be. And no one I'd rather be with."

Sometimes Dasha was wholly exasperating. Nine months ago, Becca would have taken this about-face differently. Not that she would have necessarily forgiven Dasha, because her betrayal had cut so deep, but at least then it would have vindicated her belief that they really had been in love. It would have proved that she hadn't been crazy to believe their relationship was working right up until the moment she discovered Dasha in bed with another woman. But coming as it did now, after Freen had entered the picture, Becca just felt like Dasha was desperate to reclaim something Freen had rightfully won. And that made her angry.