Free Cavanaugh’s Woman by Marie Ferrarella Page A

information.
    But Shaw went about his grilling methodically. He was a man with a goal in mind and would not stop until that goal was reached. Reese was there solely for reinforcement. The longer the questioning continued, the more uneasy Jenkins became.
    In the end, faced with the threat of being sent to prison, Jenkins finally talked. If convicted, this would have marked his third offense, guaranteeing him a life behind bars. Begging them to say it hadn’t come from him, Jenkins gave them the name of his connection.
    They had another piece of the puzzle.
    Highly impressed, Moira came out of the adjoining room just as Shaw emerged. “That was fantastic.”
    He gestured to another detective to take the prisoner to a holding cell. It had gone well in there. Sometimes it didn’t. Still there was no reason to celebrate yet.
    Shaw merely shrugged, his attention for the most part focused on the information Jenkins had given them. But it was hard not to take note of the brilliant smile on Moira’s face. A smile that somehow found its way into his gut.
    He was tired and wired at the same time and in no condition to be around a sparkling Hollywood player. Almost in self-defense, he glanced at his watch. “It’s late. Isn’t it about time you went back to your sound stage, or big party, or wherever it is that you go?”
    She was being dismissed, but took no offense since she was getting used to his abrupt behavior. “Actually, there is a party,” she told him. “A precast party. My producer is throwing it for the cast and crew.” She looked at him pointedly. “That includes the technical advisers.”
    So that was the title they’d slapped on him and Reese. He raised an eyebrow, amused despite himself. “You want my advice?”
    Moira had a strong hunch she knew what it would be. She grinned at him. “Not at this moment, no. But I’ll let you know when the time comes. Anyway, you and Reese are invited.” She nodded toward Reese. “So’s your chief, if he’d like to come.”
    Shaw didn’t know about his uncle, but he knew that he didn’t want to go. As he began to turn her down, Reese, apparently suddenly blessed with clairvoyance, grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.
    “C’mon,” he entreated, lowering his voice to just below a stage whisper. “What harm would it do? Think of it as a few hours to unwind. We could all use that,” Reese urged, his eyes dancing hopefully back and forth across Shaw’s face. “How many chances do we have to go to a real Hollywood-type party?”
    “Nobody’s stopping you.” Shaw pulled his arm away. “What do you need me for?”
    “Backup,” Reese stressed. “Besides, it’s not me she’s looking at.”
    Yes, he was aware that there had been eye contact. Aware, too, that there might have been a few other things going on, all without any nurturing on his part. He supposed it could have been referred to by some as chemistry. The kind that blew up labs, not the kind that created useful, beneficial things for mankind. “She’s absorbing the part.”
    Reese laughed shortly. “She’s absorbing you,” he corrected, then temporarily lost his endless supply of patience. “What the hell’s the matter with you? If I had a chance to be with a beautiful woman like that—”
    “Yeah, we all know what you’d do.” The answer was all over Reese’s love-struck face.
    Shaw frowned, thinking. Maybe he was attaching too much importance to all of this. Yes, it was an inconvenience and a pain in the butt, but in a couple of weeks, it would all be forgotten. By then the crew would have packed up and gone back to Los Angeles and the confines of a welcoming studio, leaving behind only their money to remind anyone that they had passed through—and some celluloid once the movie was released.
    He supposed it wouldn’t do any harm to go. Especially if his uncle was attending. He knew without being told that Brian would expect him to put in an appearance at the party if he was asked. And