A shadow moved from the other side of the hallway. Blake froze, and his fingers moved to his weapon. He blinked. Nothing there. He dug in his pocket for his keys and glanced at Missy's doorway.

Betty—wearing her pink sweat suit and flamingo earrings—stood grinning at him. She winked, raised her hand, and then knocked three times on Missy's door.

Blake's mouth opened and then closed. Betty disappeared. He closed his eyes for a half a minute and then opened them when he heard Missy's door open.

Missy stood in the doorway wearing the same clothes as earlier. A white T–shirt, a pair of jeans, and a simple necklace that hung between her breasts, spiraling the memory of her body to the forefront of his mind. He knew exactly how those curves felt under his hands and he craved the feel of them again.

"Hey. Thanks for stopping by the bookstore today." Missy pocketed her hands in her jeans, pulling them down just enough for him to get a glimpse of her lower belly. He swallowed in order to concentrate.

"You—you should look out your peephole before you open your door." There. He'd be the concerned policeman who lived across the hall. But how the hell had Betty...no, it couldn't have been Betty. What was going on?

Missy frowned. "You feeling all right?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"'Cause I did look out my peephole and I saw you." She tilted her head. "I sort of thought it was okay to open up since it was my neighbor, the cop."

How had he gotten in front of her door? He'd been several feet away when Betty...when.... Oh. He really needed that beer now. Time for a change of subject. He'd process the other stuff later.