Sneak Peek at Shifting Tides: Song of The Sea

Here’s a sneak peek at the second installment in my Shifting Tides series, Song Of The Sea.

Peter Varian is an ex-cop turned private eye, on the trail of a mobster’s errant wife, or so he thinks. After weeks of flashing her picture, asking questions and always one step behind, he finally catches up with her at a jazz club in Kansas City.

Vivilyn is no mere lounge singer. She’s sensed someone following her, and suspects it could be the casual looking hunk at the nearby table. A normal woman probably wouldn’t notice or feel the dark, sensual intensity he radiates. But then Viv is no ordinary woman.

Shifting Tides: Song Of The Sea, ©2007, Cassandra Curtis

The dress she wore hugged the rich curves of her body…a visual road map of promised delight. Peter’s mouth went dry as she pulled the olive off the little plastic sword in her martini with her teeth. She glanced his way. Pure seduction.

The photograph in his coat pocket didn’t do her justice.

Her sheer silk-clad legs crossed at the knee, one foot swaying to the music. A casual movement, designed to entice. And it worked.

He watched the band’s saxophone player stroll over to the bar, while the rest of the jazz combo finished their equipment check. The musician leaned forward to kiss the woman’s cheek, and said something to the bartender. A gentle peal of laughter escaped from those luscious lips to wrap around Peter’s heart with a loving squeeze.

She flipped her hair over one shoulder, and a strand of golden fire caught at the edge of her mouth. She brushed the hair behind a delicate ear.

All the while he pretended to study his drink, a Virgin Mary. When had she become such an obsession? He’d tracked her for weeks–always a step too late. Until now. Just a job, like any other, he’d thought. He’d never lied to himself before. Something about her mesmerized a man, made him lose all sense of time and place–of reality.

The barkeep handed the sax player a bottle of beer. The guy tossed it back, guzzled it like he was dying of thirst.

She said something, and the guy at the bar started to choke. She handed him a napkin, got up and walked––toward him. So much for keeping a low profile. Still, he could turn this to his advantage.

“Hi there. You look bored,” her voice a husky octave above a whisper.

“Do I?” An invisible finger drew a line down his spine.

“Yes, you do.” She licked her lips. “May I sit down?”

“Yeah.” Where the hell did his manners go? His southern mama would have been disgraced. “I mean, yes. Please, sit.”

He pulled out the chair for her, and as she settled across from him, he breathed in her scent…ocean breezes and something more. The aroma curled around him like a caress.

“Thank you.” The accent was faint, but there.

“Your boyfriend is talented.”

“Who?”

“Husband, then.” This close, her allure tugged at his gut…and his groin. Such a damn shame. He made it a practice not to have sex on the job–and certainly not with a client’s wife.

She held up her hands and pointed to her bare, pale ring finger. “No husband. No boyfriend.”

God, she was smooth. The lie slipped so easily from her lips. He almost wished he didn’t know. His informant back in Tampa warned him she couldn’t keep her hands to herself. No surprise a woman like her would lie about having a husband. The snitch told him if he cared to live, he’d steer clear of her. Men who got involved with her had a nasty habit of ending up in the Gulf of Mexico’s shark infested waters.

“And the sax player is…?” He asked, as the man moved past them with a tight smile, on his way to the small platform stage.

“Just a friend.”

She crossed her legs. He imagined them wrapped around his waist, and fought to dispel the image from his mind.

“Seemed intimate for just a friend.”

“You want to be my friend?” Her voice almost a purr.

Hell yes… a picture popped in his head of sharks circling…and he was the chum. He tilted his head.

“Then stick around. You’ll want to hear me sing.”

Lights dimmed, the rest of the available tables filled with customers. The band began the prelude. She stood. “That’s my cue.”

“I’ll be here.”

She moved toward the stage, and then stopped a split second while the club’s owner announced her to the audience. He drank in the view. Voluptuous curves in all the right places. Then he noticed the thin black line down the back of her silk stockings, and all his thoughts fled save one.