Pale Wings Protecting Page 5

  I don’t stand a chance.

  Blythe took pity on her. “Are you ready to face the team again to see what we have planned?”

  “I’m eager to see how the DDU works.”

  “We’re becoming a formidable team.”

  “Then I’m even more grateful to have you on my side.”

  *

  Four days into the setting up of the undercover investigation, Daryl was feeling more and more at home at the DDU. Every day, she’d been driven in by Blythe, had taken a seat at a desk marked out specifically for her, and had dealt with her own work until called to join the agents in their conference room to discuss her case. Trace wheeled over to where Blythe and Daryl sat looking over files. She jingled a set of keys at them.

  “Ladies, we’re going on a little field trip to see a friend of mine.”

  “The last time you pulled that stunt, Trace, I found myself in a tattoo parlor. It took all my powers of persuasion and finally drawing my weapon and badge to stop your friend Razor from tattooing my ass,” Blythe said.

  Daryl’s eyebrows rose, and she had to forcibly not let her eyes fall to check out that particular piece of Blythe’s anatomy. “You have a tattoo?”

  “No, I don’t, but it’s no thanks to this one here.” Blythe pointed toward a grinning Trace. “I thought we were just going out for a few drinks and maybe pizza. Apparently, Trace had a different girl’s night out experience in mind.”

  “You needed to loosen up, Agent,” Trace said, unrepentant.

  Blythe purposely turned away from her and back to the file in her hand. “I’m certain I could have done that without having love birds etched on my butt cheek.”

  Daryl fought to hide a smile behind her hand and tried in vain not to let her mind wander to what lay beneath the tailored dark pants Blythe wore so well.

  Trace put the keys down on the desk noisily. “Alas, this isn’t a request from me for a road trip to broaden your horizons, Blythe. This is the big boss sending you two to seal your partnership.”

  Daryl frowned at her. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’re going to need photos taken. You can’t set up a happy lesbian home without having photos of the happy couple dotted around the place showing off your couple-dom.” Trace pushed the keys toward Blythe. “Besides, you’re supposed to be married. You’re going to need at least one wedding picture as proof. I am not Photoshopping you.”

  “Oh God,” Daryl muttered under her breath. Blythe heard her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I never even thought of having to need proof we were together. I just figured our being together would be evidence enough.” Daryl began to worry she hadn’t thought any of the details through enough. What else had she missed?

  “A picture tells a thousand words, Detective. My friend has everything you’re going to need at her studio. She’ll make certain you look suitably ceremonious.”

  Blythe cocked her head at Trace. “Do I get a wedding dress?”

  Trace nodded. “And we’ll find a suitable penguin suit for the fair detective here.”

  “Oh God,” Daryl moaned again and caught Blythe eyeing her. “My mother always dreamed I’d find the right girl and settle down. She would have loved to plan a wedding. Somehow, I don’t think this is quite what she would have had in mind.”

  Trace grinned. “Well, today you two get to put on your happiest smiles because you’re going to be married. On an eight-by-ten glossy at least.” She pushed away from the table. “And then we have to go shopping for wedding bands so you look suitably shackled.”

  Oh God, help me now.

  *

  Daryl wasn’t comfortable not wearing her gun at her side. She was even less happy with the fact her sidearm was in the possession of Trace while she got changed. Sharon the photographer had brought out clothing for Daryl and Blythe and directed them into changing rooms to get ready. She’d overheard Blythe being taken off for something to do with makeup so she’d been hiding behind the curtain of her cubicle hoping she wouldn’t get the same call. The full-length mirror caught Daryl’s attention, and she stared at herself in the dark gray suit that had been chosen for her. A pale blue shirt brought a splash of color along with her patterned tie. She hardly recognized herself.

  “You have to come out of there some time, Chandler,” Trace called.

  “I’m not being made up to look like someone I’m not,” Daryl said.

  “They’re just going to make you lose the tight ass ponytail. You’re not being subjected to the pampering Blythe is going through.”

  Daryl tugged her hair free from its tie and quickly combed it out. It fell just shy of her shoulders. Reluctantly, she finally stepped out of the cubicle.

  Trace’s eyes widened and she let out a low whistle. “Look at you all duded up. You’re looking mighty fine there, Detective. Or should I say Mrs. Kent?” The sly words made Daryl’s head snap up.

  “Am I changing my name?”

  Trace fingered her armrests innocently. “I figured you to be the old-fashioned type and would expect our Blythe to become Mrs. Chandler instead.”

  Blythe’s voice came from behind them. “It could be hyphenated and we could be Mrs. Chandler-Kent.”

  Daryl’s breath arrested somewhere in her chest when she saw Blythe. She stared in awe at just how beautiful she looked in her wedding finery. The dress was an ornately patterned affair with a low neckline that revealed more than Blythe’s work suits ever could. Her dark hair fell upon her shoulders and her eyes looked even more striking with the expertly applied makeup. A smile curled lips darkened with a wine red lipstick.

  “You look very handsome, Daryl,” Blythe said softly, her eyes sweeping over Daryl from head to toe.

  “And you look breathtaking.” Daryl hoped her voice didn’t break and make her sound as adolescent as she felt.

  “At least your shoes go with what you’re wearing. My black work boots apparently ruined the look of this dress.” She raised a foot now wearing a white high-heeled shoe. “We need to get this over with; these shoes are not my size. I want to smile in our wedding photos and not be grimacing in pain.”

  A woman appeared and singled Daryl out. “I was coming to do something with your hair.”

  Daryl shook her head. “I’ve combed it down. It’s sorted.”

  The woman let out a small sigh. “At least you got rid of the unflattering ponytail. You’re supposed to be getting married after all, not looking like you have a court appearance.”

  I think I’d rather go to court. Daryl fidgeted with her tie nervously. A warm hand stilled hers over the thin material. Blythe’s fingers trailed up the tie and positioned it just right at Daryl’s collar. Daryl’s eyes fell to Blythe’s ample curves. “You’re rocking some major cleavage in that wedding gown,” she said softly.

  Blythe laughed and ineffectually tried to pull up the top of her dress. “It’s the cut of the dress. It forces everything up front and center.”

  Daryl couldn’t argue with that, but the photographer walked in and broke the moment before she could say anything more. Daryl took a step back and tried to breathe normally.

  Sharon cast a critical eye over them both. She singled out Daryl.

  “You’re extremely pale. I’d prefer makeup on you to brighten your skin.”

  “I don’t wear makeup,” Daryl argued. “And if I were getting married for real, I still wouldn’t wear it.”

  “Butches,” Sharon grumbled, fixing a lens on her expensive looking camera. “They all think a beauty regime is to apply ChapStick.” She waved for everyone to follow her.

  Daryl felt Blythe step in close to her side. A hand slipped into hers and squeezed gently.

  “Let’s get married, Detective.”

  Daryl dutifully followed her lead.

  *

  Blythe wondered how many more times they had to strike the same pose and tilt their heads this way and that before the perfect picture was captured. The intimacy of the photos had Blythe lean
ing in close to Daryl, and she was enjoying how seriously Daryl was taking all the fuss and unwanted attention. The look of concentration on Daryl’s face made Blythe want to kiss her senseless.

  “And now I need you to kiss.”

  Blythe couldn’t believe she’d heard her own thoughts spoken out loud from the photographer. She caught sight of the surprise on Daryl’s face before she hastily covered her emotion with a more professional front. Blythe was unsure how to respond to the look written all over Daryl’s face. Part of it was trepidation, but she could also see desire. She smiled inwardly at that, enjoying the fact that Daryl obviously found her attractive.

  “We’re going to end up kissing sometime, Detective,” Blythe said softly. “We’re going to be married. Married couples usually kiss.” The way Daryl caught her bottom lip between her teeth made Blythe want to run her tongue over her lip to smooth away any hurt. She took the opportunity handed to her. She softly ran the tip of her tongue across Daryl’s lower lip. When Daryl gasped in surprise, Blythe kissed her. The feel of Daryl’s lips beneath her own drew Blythe in further to explore. What started out as a gentle pressure became more urgent, and when Daryl kissed her back, Blythe knew she was lost. Daryl’s lips were firm yet tender, and for every kiss Blythe instigated Daryl returned it in equal measure. Her hands rose to capture Daryl’s face and just hold her. Daryl’s own hands moved to Blythe’s waist, her fingers pulling her closer until their bodies touched. Blythe’s whole body ignited at the gentle caress of Daryl’s lips and the soft nipping of her teeth on Blythe’s full lower lip. Daryl’s tongue soothed over the sting, which only served to make Blythe desperate for more. She pressed her chest closer to Daryl’s and felt Daryl moan into her mouth.

  “You can stop now. I’ve got more than enough,” Sharon said dryly.

  Barely registering the fact someone had spoken, Blythe had no intention of pulling back from the heat of Daryl’s kiss. She let out a moan as Daryl’s tongue began to seek out her own once more.

  A piercing whistle startled them both apart as if they’d been doused with cold water. Trace lowered her fingers from her lips. “Time out, guys. Sharon only takes photos of the wedding, not the honeymoon. And you two look like you’re in need of getting a room!”

  Daryl’s face was aflame. She kept her head averted while she struggled for breath. Blythe rested their foreheads together, keeping Daryl’s face in her hold as she stroked the heated cheeks gently.

  “I guess that’s one area we don’t have to worry about fooling anyone,” Daryl said for Blythe’s ears alone.

  Blythe had to agree. This case was going to be a difficult enough assignment without the added pressure of Blythe not being able to keep her hands off Daryl. But Daryl kissed like a dream, and Blythe was sorely tempted to savor her lips just one more time. Sharon’s voice broke the mood, and Blythe released an annoyed grumble.

  “If you ladies will go get changed into the casual clothing, we’ll take some general snapshots.” She picked up another camera and began getting it ready.

  Daryl started to loosen her tie, and Blythe had to steel herself from reaching out to tug on the material and use it to pull Daryl close again. Daryl chose that moment to look up and must have caught the predatory look on Blythe’s face. She grinned.

  “What are the DDU’s interdepartmental guidelines for fraternization, Agent Kent?”

  Blythe smiled back. “We’re going to be recognized as married in a week or so. They can’t say a word.”

  “And here I was thinking this was going to be all about the case.” She undid the top buttons of her shirt and began shrugging out of the jacket.

  “Oh, Detective Chandler, you’re on the DDU’s turf now. You’ll find nothing is ever as it seems.”

  Trace broke into their hushed conversation. “Will you two quit with the flirting so you can go get outside and get your photos taken? And, Blythe, wash off your wedding makeup. Sharon said you can be more natural for these shots. She did try to tell you herself, but you two were too busy giving each other the eye.”

  “Thank goodness,” Blythe said, deliberately ignoring the last part of Trace’s comment. “I wouldn’t want to wear this dark a shade of lipstick all the time.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. Most of it’s been kissed off anyway,” Trace said.

  Daryl ducked into the changing cubicle. Blythe laughed and rested her hands on Trace’s wheelchair and leaned in. “You’re just jealous.”

  “Because you got to lock lips with Detective Angel Hair? I only wish I’d had enough brain cells firing while you two were burning up the atmosphere with your smoldering kisses. I should have whipped out my cell phone and recorded it.”

  “The film wouldn’t have done the actuality justice.” Blythe slipped away into her cubicle. She caught sight of her full-length reflection in the mirror and paused for a moment before taking the dress off. It’s just an assignment, she told her reflection sternly, but that didn’t stop her from touching her lips as she recalled their kissing. It’s just an assignment with a woman whose first kiss turned me on in an instant. So much for professionalism. All I can think of is when I can kiss her again.

  Chapter Six

  “Having second thoughts already?” Daryl asked from the kitchen as she prepared their evening meal. She’d informed Blythe she could make a fairly decent spaghetti bolognaise and was just setting out the plates on the table when she’d caught Blythe playing with the shiny gold wedding band she had recently placed on her finger.

  Blythe looked up. “No, I just can’t get used to having something there and what it means. Even if it doesn’t mean the same to us that it will for those who see its significance.”

  Daryl spared a look at her identical ring. She was pleased that Blythe had picked out a simple plain band for them both. Daryl wasn’t drawn to ostentatious trappings. She was a plain and simple woman. She looked at her watch; it had been a present from her parents when she’d graduated from the police academy. She could have afforded to replace it many times over by now, but it still kept excellent time and had meaning to her.

  “Your meal is ready,” Daryl said and headed back into the kitchen to dish it out.

  “I could get used to this treatment,” Blythe said as she chose a wine to accompany their food.

  Daryl set a full plate before Blythe’s seat. “You might want to reserve judgment until you’ve tasted it.”

  “I’m sure it’s wonderful. It smells divine.” Blythe poured them each a glass of wine. “Are you reasonably set for what next week has in store for us?”

  “Which part? Going from confirmed bachelorhood to wonderfully wedded bliss? Or doing all that while trying to gain a foot in the door among Cranston Heights’ powerful and elite?”

  Blythe moaned aloud in appreciation at her first mouthful of Daryl’s cooking. “Oh my God, you have to cook this for me every night! It’s amazing!” Blythe swallowed another mouthful of her food. “I mean the whole undercover deception part. Where we get to investigate but can’t be seen to be investigating, all the while keeping up the appearance that you and I are a couple.”

  “It does seem to be a dangerous juggling act,” Daryl said. “I’ve never gone undercover like this before. This should prove to be an interesting investigation in many ways.”

  “The hardest part is getting you to stop being such a cop.” Blythe grinned at Daryl’s affronted face. “Oh, you are too such a cop!”

  “I can’t help it. It’s who I am.”

  “No, it’s what you are. Your job defines you but doesn’t make you who you are. You’re going to have to be Daryl Chandler, wife to Blythe, whom you happen to love more than anything on this planet and want to make babies with. It’s not like filling in a report, ticking a few boxes, and you’re done. You’ve got to play the role, make people believe it.”

  “Our kissing is dangerous. It makes me forget what I’m supposed to be doing,” Daryl blurted out. She was glad to see Blythe hesitate.

  “W
e obviously like each other,” Blythe said softly.

  “It feels more than like.” Daryl couldn’t take her eyes from Blythe’s face.

  “I know.” Blythe’s voice came out on a whisper.

  “So what do we do about that?”

  “I don’t honestly know. I’ve never had to worry about being attracted to someone I had to go undercover with. I have enough trouble finding someone interesting enough in my meager personal life.”

  “You think I’m interesting?”

  Blythe slipped her hand across the table and touched Daryl’s sleeve. “I think you’re more than interesting.”

  “But you don’t really know me. I could be harboring some deep dark secret.” Daryl wondered if Blythe could ever imagine how true those words were.

  “Sometimes it’s the darkness in people that helps us celebrate the light.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a very profiler-ish thing to say. You deal with the dark side of people every day. It’s not pretty.”

  Blythe’s eyes cut through to Daryl’s very soul it seemed. “I don’t see a darkness in you. All I see is a bright, shimmering light.”

  Daryl shifted uncomfortably under her intense stare. “That’s you being dazzled by the overhead lighting glancing off my all too pale hair.”

  Blythe laughed and the tension at the table eased. Daryl searched desperately for something to change the subject that hung heavily in the air. Blythe beat her to it.

  “So, care to tell me what your secret is?”

  “Secret?” Daryl asked, knowing what was coming but hoping like crazy she could wrangle a way out of it.

  “You have the most scarily accurate solve rate to your cases. I’m wondering what your secret is to that.”

  Daryl tried to shrug it off. “Just lucky I guess.”

  “You’re not seriously expecting me to swallow that, are you, Detective? Your lucky streak, if used in another situation, would amass you a fortune so that you could hang up your badge and retire to Florida.”