Merciless by Diana Palmer

joy.
    His eyes narrowed as he felt the same impact of pleasure. His jaw tautened noticeably.
    â€œYour eyes are the oddest shade of blue I’ve ever seen,” he remarked quietly. “Almost a royal blue.”
    â€œYours are black,” she replied, searching them.
    â€œYes.” Involuntarily his lean, beautiful hand came up and touched her flushed cheek. “This is very dangerous,” he said in a deep, velvety tone. “I might think of it as an invitation.”
    â€œI might point out that you’re the one inviting trouble,” she retorted and stepped back. There were reasons why she could never allow him closer than arm’s length. “My legions of male admirers would set upon you like flies on honey and sunder you limb from limb. Not only that, there’s this famous gorgeous movie star who calls me three times daily…and there he is, on the phone again!” sheexclaimed, and almost ran from the office to answer the phone on her desk.
    He was still laughing when he closed the door.
    Â 
    It had been a narrow escape. Joceline’s knees were weak for the rest of the day every time she gazed at her gorgeous boss. She avoided looking directly at him, because she was afraid that he was right: she had been inviting trouble.
    On the other hand, he’d touched her cheek. He was the one who’d come so very close to her. It was only the second time in their years together that he’d ever approached her in an intimate way—although it wasn’t actually intimate. And he didn’t remember the first time. She hoped, she prayed, that he never would.
    An hour later, still dreaming of her boss, Joceline was feeding information into the computer when the part-timer, Phyllis Hicks, stopped by her desk with a question.
    â€œThese forms are so boring,” she complained. “My dad works in the homicide department at San Antonio P.D. and I get to look at crime scene photos.” Her eyes gleamed oddly. “Murder is such an exciting thing, don’t you think?”
    â€œMurder?”
    Phyllis shifted. “The investigation, I mean. You get to catch criminals. My daddy’s real good at it.”
    â€œWho is your dad?”
    â€œHis name’s Dave Hicks, he works with Marquez.” She made a face. “I don’t like Marquez at all.”
    That was a surprise. Most people did. Most women found him attractive.
    â€œOf course, he’s not my real dad,” she added. “My real dad is special. He thinks outside the box. He’s not afraid of anything.” She laughed. “He lets me do stuff with him. It’s very exciting.” She caught herself and gave Joceline a beaming smile. “Sorry, I get carried away. Now about this form, do I have to fill in every single space?”
    Joceline told her how to input the information, but long after Phyllis went back to her typing chores, Joceline sat quietly in her chair. She felt vaguely uneasy about the young woman. Was it normal to enjoy looking at crime scene photos? They made Joceline very ill. Once she’d even thrown up when she saw one in a file that involved the vicious killing of a young woman who’d threatened Senator Will Sanders. The woman had been brutally killed, a crime for which Jay Copper was charged. But Phyllis liked them?
    There was no accounting for taste, she supposed, and there was the notorious forensic investigator, Alice Mayfield Jones Fowler, who really got into her work at crime scenes and never seemed to be bothered by what she had to see. On the other hand, Alice didn’t find murder scenes exciting, either.
    â€œI’ll never fit in this modern society,” Joceline muttered to herself. She didn’t understand the fascination with death, with zombies, with vampires…
    Well, she loved the very popular vampire movie trilogy, so that wasn’t quite true. Perhaps Phyllis was justexaggerating. She might have never seen a crime scene