The night keeps replaying over and over again in her mind.
It's simply eating her up inside knowing they never discussed seeing one another again. . . She'd thanked Castle for rescuing her from Trent, slid her fingers along his waistband and fought against the urge to cop a feel of his tight butt before placing her lips on his stubbled cheek.
The back of her hand lifts to her lips in remembrance.
Fuck, she can still feel the fresh, baby stubble beneath her mouth and her loins automatically contract in anticipation, picturing his dark sexy stubble between her legs.
The woman in her who longs for a normal, stable relationship tries to convince her to call the hunky author, but the self-assured Goddess stamps the idea out, reminding her she's never needed a man in her life before and never will.
A coil of fear wraps itself around her and feels suffocating. . . Fear that Richard Edgar Castle just might be the one man to make her rethink the notion.
She can't stop thinking about the way he stood up to Trent, defending her as a lady, and actually punching the jerk-off in the face. He'd been extremely attentive to her all night long, as if she was the only woman in the room, not even noticing when the beautiful, young waitress had openly flirted with him.
He'd been forthright, teasing, letting her know his intentions weren't quite pure, insinuating she just might have all the traits he was looking for in a woman.
He'd done what she thought was impossible, - managed to convince her he was more than just interested in her for sensual pleasure.
Damn the man for interfering and interviewing her for research for his new book, for tossing her off her sturdy life raft into murky waters, waves sloshing over her where she's barely able to keep her head above water.
She refuses to entertain the possibility he's her 'life preserver,' - floating along her side.
She remembers his commanding presence, his deep voice purring, "I prefer a woman who knows who she is. . . One who isn't afraid to let a man see her inner beauty as well as her inner desires. One who cherishes the pleasure a man and woman can give each other."
I just bet he does, she thinks raunchily, but her inner voice relays he's different from all the other men she's dated before and deserves a chance.
In just a very short time spent in his presence, she's deemed he's a VERY good man and it shows by his words, but more importantly, by his actions.
He was unselfish throughout the entire evening, chivalrous to a fault, offering her his jacket when he noticed she was cold, not expecting anything in return. He'd flirted, ogled, made his intentions clear but in an understated, honorable way, making her believe he was hoping for more than just one torrid night in the sack, desiring to get to know the real her.
He'd shown what a dedicated father he is, proving his daughter came first and foremost in his life and fuck, that fact alone certainly did it for her.
He'd been accommodating and gracious, telling his driver to take her wherever she wanted to go, helping her into the back seat of the limo and with a grin to match George Washington on Mount Rushmore, he'd pulled the seatbelt taut around her, fingers slicing hotly over her pelvis before clicking the belt into place.
He'd brushed off her invitation to join her for the sake of his daughter, left her in the back seat of the limo alone, - breathing erratically, surrounded by his intoxicating, rugged scent, wishing his muscular body was there keeping her warm instead of his jacket.
Mmm, his jacket. It still hangs on her headboard where she drapes herself in it at night, his smell filling her with dirty thoughts of naked flesh, heated cries, and up-all-night-melt-your-bones-fucking-sessions.
It's been five days since she's seen him. . . Five long nights where she wakes unrested, feverish, twisted in sheets, a dampness between her thighs.
She dreams of thick sandy hair, midnight-blue obsessive eyes which rarely blink as he absorbs every inch of her, large hands which strum and flick and torture her provocatively.
She dreams of six feet of muscle pinning her down, enfolding her with his bulk and a voice whispering huskily, "Kate."
He's dangerous to her psyche.
Dangerous to her well being.
Dangerous to her heart.
She's got to get him outta her head so life can go back to normal.
Normal? . . . Trying to stop yourself from slipping down the rabbit hole while surrounded by a 20 foot wall? Continuing to work for Detective Montgomery hoping one day a john will reveal information about your Mother's murder? Hiding behind your persona because you're too scared to dream, - or even hope for, - what your parents shared?. . . A lot of good that's done you for the past year and a half.
She runs her fingers through her layered, mid-length hair and sighs in exasperation.
Maybe today's the day the Captain will reveal promising evidence.
She dresses quickly in navy skinny jeans and a white button down, choosing conservative boots. She applies bronzer, a touch of mascara and some gloss, brushing her hair into a high ponytail.
She loves these days off where she can leave Diamond's glamorous lifestyle behind and just be Kate Beckett, albeit a damaged one.
As she enters the 12th precinct, Officer Anne Hastings greets her openly and she returns the greeting with a heartfelt smile, wondering if she had passed the Academy, if she and the young woman would be friends.
She hops on the elevator and heads up to the 3rd floor for Captain Montgomery's office. As she approaches his door, she hears the Captain and Esposito arguing with each other, raised voices traveling through the closed door.
"You underestimated Trent Eason, Sir. The man's bordering on psychotic and could have easily hurt her."
"She's okay isn't she? She's a big girl and knows the risks, gladly accepts them."
"Yes, but she isn't one of us no matter how much you wish otherwise. She's treading down a rocky road, willing to throw herself to the wolves in hopes of finding a solid lead in her mother's case."
"Don't you think I know that? I wish I didn't have to put her in harm's way, but you've witnessed firsthand the good she's done. . . She's been invaluable here, helping to put serious scumbags behind bars who otherwise would be roaming these city streets free and clear. I need her on my team."
"But at what cost . . . Her life? Because I won't be able to - "
Kate taps soundly on the door, interrupting them, uncomfortable with the direction their conversation's heading.
"Captain?" she queries, opening the door and coming into contact with Esposito's dark brown, reserved eyes.
"Well, speak of the devil." Javi grins atrociously, feigning she hasn't just been the topic of conversation. "How are you, Beckett?"
"Doing good. Thanks again for escorting Trent out of Asiate the other night."
"You ought to thank me for arresting him for assault. His rich, pompous mouth got him into trouble. He openly threatened me so I hauled him down to booking." (He wouldn't mention Trent also threatened to come after her and show her how a 'real man' handles a woman) It was the highlight of my night throwing him in the cage."
With a delightful smile she replies, "I'm sure he got exactly what he deserved."
"Yes, and a little bit more." Javi's raised eyebrow spoke of outrageous, not-quite-legal shenanigans.
"You'll have to tell me all about it."
Montgomery clears his throat, effectively interrupting them. "Esposito, you need to get back to Officer McNaughty's case."
"Officer McNaughty?" she asks humorously.
Espo smirks around his Hispanic drawl, "Just a popular stripper who enjoyed dressing up as a cop." He opens the office door before turning back to Kate, "I'll see you tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night?" she queries, surprise lingering in the air.
"Didn't Ryan speak with you? . . . A new client paid for three hours of your time from 7 - 10 pm."
"No, he hasn't talked to me about it. I'll call him later."
Javi chuckles, "Tell him I'm sick and tired of seeing him drool over Jenny O'Malley. He needs to get the balls to ask her to marry him."
A vise grip clenches around her heart, squeezing mercilessly as she wonders if a man will ever look at her the way Kevin Ryan does Jenny O'Malley.
"I'll relay the message."
Espo closes the door shut behind him and she turns to Montgomery expectantly, "Please tell me you have good news."
There's no other word for it than frustration. Her mother's case is still, after 12 long years, going nowhere. Montgomery hadn't been able to find any inconsistencies with the law cases Johanna was working on before her death.
Quote, unquote, "Nothing jumped out on paper." He'd hired a new Medical Examiner to take a look at the photos of the crime scene as well as her body, but there was nothing conclusive, the stab wounds looked random, violent, meant for blood loss, meant to kill.
'Random gang violence' would remain the cause of Johanna Beckett's death.
Only for now, she vows to herself.
She picks up her burner cell phone and inputs Ryan's number. After a couple of rings, his Irish voice comes on the line, "Hello."
"Rumors are I have a job tomorrow night. Why am I the last one to know?" She spouts in mock-anger.
"I was just going to call you as the request came in last night."
"Were you now? Why do I get the feeling you and Espo enjoy leaving me dangling until the last possible minute?"
"Because you do your best work with little to no notice," he laughs.
"Touche. . . Tell me about this new guy."
"He's a trust-fund kid, raised by his mother, now in his thirties. He's an entrepreneur, dabbling in the publishing industry. He's looking to relocate from the Hamptons to the city and would like you to be his tour guide."
"Seems a little odd. I usually only get that type of request from foreigners. I'm sure he knows about the city's hot spots, so is he more interested in the rural areas?"
"It's the impression I got, but his secretary was pretty vague about it when she booked you for him."
"He signed the contract?"
"Yes. I went over all your rules with her and she praised the man's virtues, promising her Boss understands and would abide by them without fail."
"Background check?"
"Other than being arrested in his youth for vandalism of the New York City Public Library, he's clean."
"And you're sure he understands Esposito will be shadowing us the entire time?"
"Yes, Diamond. He's okay with your bodyguard tagging along as long as he sits in the front seat of the towncar, leaving you two in relative privacy."
"Okay then, I'll agree to it. Did he specify what he'd like me to wear?"
"Anything you're comfortable with."
"Is there a particular hotel he requested to go to afterwards?"
"No, he didn't pay for the full package, only for your time."
She expels a sigh of relief and mumbles, "Thank God for little favors."
"Sorry, I didn't catch what you just said."
"Never mind, it wasn't important. . . When and where are we supposed to meet?"
"7 pm. A diner on 4th and Broadway called, Remy's."
"I know the place; they make a mean burger and to-die-for strawberry shakes. . . How will I recognize him?"
"He'll be the guy with the single yellow rose."
"What's his name, Ryan?"
"Alexander Rogers."
A what-the-hell-is-that, delicious, yet unnerving tremor starts at the soles of her feet and curls lazily up her entire body, at the same moment erotic baby blues blaze through her mind.