Free Shades of Passion by Virna DePaul

pale, glossy hair, down to the tidy but curvy length of her body and ending at the shiny black pumps she shifted nervously.
    When he met her gaze again, her eyes were slightly dilated.
    “I just like to keep my options open,” he explained. “I don’t like what you do for a living, but you’re damn easy on the eyes. Who knows? Maybe I could do something for you this time around. I’d make damn sure you enjoyed yourself in bed with me.”
    “I’m sure you would. But it takes more than the promise of pleasure to get me into bed with someone.”
    “And it takes more than someone wanting to get to know me better to get me to go for a drink with a shrink. ” Deliberately, Simon stepped back.
    She smiled tightly and nodded. “I understand. Then I suppose it really is time to go, Detective Granger. Goodbye.”
    She turned to leave, looking as shocked as he felt when he reached out to stop her.
    “Wait.”
    She stared at his hand for a second and so did he. His grip highlighted the differences between them. Him, big and rough. Her, soft and smooth. Powerful and delicate. Male and female. Suddenly, he longed to press the rest of his flesh against hers, chest to chest, hips to hips—to see how that looked, yes, but more important, to feel it. To feel her.
    He whipped his hand away and took a step back.
    To her credit, she didn’t smirk or comment on his retreat.
    “Michael Callahan is still in the hospital,” he said. It was a statement, not a question, and even though he hadn’t meant to sound critical, she obviously interpreted his words that way.
    She pursed her lips then nodded. “He was held on a seventy-two-hour hold for evaluation, but under the law can be kept for an additional fourteen days for treatment.”
    “Even though he’s going to prison the second you’re done with him?”
    She gave him a chiding look. “He’ll only go to prison if he’s deemed competent. And only then if he’s convicted—”
    Simon snorted. “He gave you the information that led us to that little girl. He’ll be going to prison eventually.”
    He didn’t say the words if I have anything to do with it but they echoed around them nonetheless.
    She sighed. “Maybe prison is where he’ll end up. Maybe not. And whether you or I think he deserves to be imprisoned is irrelevant. It’s up to a jury, one that’s been given all the facts, including those about Michael’s psychotic break at the time he took the little girl.”
    “Right. And you’re going to be the one to tell them those facts. Don’t forget to bring your box of Kleenex while you’re at it.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “Look, I know you’re—”
    “Simon, you going to introduce us to your friend?”
    Nina’s head whipped around at the sound of Jase Tyler’s voice. The handsome, sandy-haired Texan stood several feet away. Beside him, Carrie Ward, fellow agent and Jase’s girlfriend, struggled to keep her expression serious but her curious gaze bounced between Simon and Nina as if she was watching a tennis match. A very interesting tennis match.
    “Dr. Nina Whitaker,” Simon bit out. “Meet Special Agents Jase Tyler and Carrie Ward.”
    The trio shook hands.
    “Sounds like you and Simon were discussing the pros and cons of rehabilitative therapy. You a shrink, Dr. Whitaker?”
    Nina cautiously turned to Carrie. “I’m a psychiatrist, yes. Do you have an interest in rehabilitative therapy, Detective?”
    Carrie smiled. “Working with this bunch? I need all the help I can get.”
    That startled a laugh out of Nina, and Jase and Simon looked at each other. Despite himself, Simon had to forcibly stop himself from smiling, too.
    “Seriously, whether I’m interested in rehabilitative therapy depends,” Carrie said. “Whose rehabilitation are you discussing?”
    Nina hesitated, but Simon crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against his desk. Granted, Jase and Carrie weren’t as touchy about shrinks and therapy as he was, but as fellow cops