Beachcomber Test
Beachcomber Investigations Book 8
By Stephanie Queen
Sample Chapters
Chapter 1
It had seemed like a simple case. A case Dane had agreed to take because he would do anything for Shana. Now that he was shamelessly in love with her and in full-on convincing-her-to-stay-with-him mode after he almost lost her on Christmas Day.
Shana didn’t trust him yet. She was in full-on test-the-bastard mode to make sure he was for real.
Her first test had been to suggest a trip to Australia to visit her family. He’d agreed. They’d planned it for the fall. They were coming into spring and summer season so it didn’t make sense to leave now. They would wait for the cold weather to travel down under where it would be warm. She had booked their flight and the tic of uneasiness that Dane felt was almost imperceptible.
Her second test had been to accept a divorce case without asking him. He’d vowed never to take follow-the-cheating-spouse cases and she knew it. The muscle clench between his shoulder blades was mild, so he soldiered through.
Now they would be following some nasty middle-aged man around the island for half the season to work up an irrefutable file on him for the wronged wife so she could work the pre-nup infidelity clause and wring every penny out of the sap—or scum, depending on your view—in the divorce. Dane tried hard not to have any view in the matter.
His view was to pray to hell that the man dropped his pants on his first night on island.
No such luck.
Instead, the poor sap—or scum—got himself killed.
This wasn’t any routine divorce case anymore, but Dane wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
*****
He stood in the small kitchen looking at Shana over his coffee cup. The sun shone through the window and glinted off her golden hair so that she looked like she had sparks flying from her. She wore her usual gorgeous scowl.
“Didn’t you do a background check on our client before you agreed to the case?”
He smiled when she narrowed her eyes at him.
“No.” She stood with her hands on her hips, daring him to shoot her down. That, Dane figured, was test number three.
He nodded and walked past her, brushing a hand over the waves of her long soft mane of hair and inhaling the scent of her.
“Where are you going?”
“To the secure phone.”
“What are you? Batman?” She followed after him. She always followed after him. Almost always.
He laughed.
“I’m calling in Acer.”
“Not that I have anything against Acer, but we don’t need him. We can handle this ourselves.”
She’d gotten the call from Captain Colin Lynch at six that morning about the murder victim. Dane knew it was bad when she came back to bed and wouldn’t tell him what the call was about.
He stopped at his old metal desk, the feature piece in his office, which should have been a living room. Shana had brought in a couch, but he mostly used it for a shelf where he threw all the files, papers, mail, books, and any other paraphernalia that got collected during an investigation. Or any other time. He looked at the pile of crap and took a deep breath. Then he smiled at her like he meant it, because he did.
“I’ll do whatever you want, sugar bun.”
“Stop that.”
“You don’t want me to call you sugar bun?”
“I don’t want you doing whatever I want—”
“Can I quote you on that?”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to be agreeable.”
“Well, stop. It’ s not you and it’s creeping me out.”
He reached out and pulled her in and held her tight against him. He was hard and she was soft—in all the strategic places—and he let that feeling, of her pressed against him, simmer through his body, hit every nerve, and settle in his head and deep in his soul. She stirred and he reflexively tightened his hold.
“It’s okay, Dane. I’m not going to run out the door if you disagree with me.”
“Of course not. Why would you? I mean, look what you have here.”
He spread his arms. It was half-hearted sarcasm because he wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable, but he’d been feeling a lot of that lately. It was as if he were reliving his teenage years, only inside a forty-year-old body which made the fun parts not nearly as fun.
“I’m looking at who I have.” She sighed deeply and then leaned in and grabbed his lips with her teeth and sucked in, giving him a hair-raising—and other-body-part-raising—kiss. Deep and juicy and thorough.
“You want to go back to bed?” It was a stupid question and he should have grabbed her by the hair and dragged her—figuratively speaking. Maybe another time he would have.
She smiled, moving her hands over his chest. It was a strong, well-muscled chest because in his line of work staying in good shape was a matter of life and death. Evidently even when his line of work was a divorce case.
“Always. I always want you.”
“Then we have something in common—I always want you.”
He moved, holding her in his arms, half dragging her in the direction of the hall to the bedroom. Until she dug in her heels.
“We have a murder case,” she said. Then she really smiled.
Chapter 2
“Wait before you call in Acer.” She pushed against his chest, forcing him to release her and not wanting him to release her at the same time.
“Let’s go over to State Police Headquarters and have a talk with Cap about the dead man. We have a responsibility to the former subject of our divorce case investigation.”
“You mean you want to get Cap to let you see the body so you’ll be able to tell our client, without lying, that you located her husband.”
She stopped in the bathroom to run a brush through her hair and decided, after hitting two snarls, to put it into a ponytail. Wondering briefly whether Dane would commit suicide if she cut her hair short, she snapped the neon pink scrunchy in place. She smiled at herself in the mirror because she knew the bright color would annoy him. Or rather he’d pretend to be annoyed and give her grief.
She adored his grief.
Stepping back into the hall, she found Dane waiting for her, blocking her path like a wall of solid hunky muscle. The familiar sizzle hit her again, but she’d become good at hiding it from him. Hoped she had. It was sometimes a mystery with Dane, whether he’d read her mind or not. Maybe he always read her mind but let her get away with her defiance now and then.
Right now, he looked slightly down at her with those piercing, intense eyes of his, exploring her secrets and creating havoc with her nerve endings.
“That what you’re wearing for a professional meeting with the Captain of the State Police?” His voice vibrated low and she couldn’t tell if it was dark or turned-on or maybe some of both. He had an irrational jealous streak when it came to their friend Captain Colin Lynch. Cap was an honorable man and Dane’s best friend which was why she would never understand Dane’s blind spot of jealousy that creeped in at odd times.
Then he reached his hand out and slipped it under her short cotton sundress, skimming his fingers along the inside of her thighs. She shivered. Her mind went blank for a beat as the pulse of desire zipped through her.
“Cap’s a gentleman. Unlike you.” She pushed him aside. He let her.
As she passed he tugged on her hair and she noticed the grin on his face like he was a boy teasing a girl at the playground. That only made her hotter for him. Because she was irrational when it came to Dane.
Whenever he captured her in his wild orbit of power she went weak. Like a fourteen-year-old girly-girl, the kind she’d never been—not even when she was fourteen—until she’d met Dane.
Hurrying ahead of him, she pushed the screen door open and let it go before he could catch it.
“Damn it, girlie. That’ll cost you.” She heard him behind her as the tightly sprung door slammed in his face.
