Tap Dance (Dance Series)

chapter Two



"This is bullshit, Chief," Officer Reid said. "Someone has completely trashed her place and has ripped, torn, mutilated or ruined every single piece of fabric in her apartment."

"It looks like someone was looking for something, Chief, but because everything is so torn up I'm thinking that they didn't find what they were searching for," Officer Matthews added.

"Got it. Should we wake up one of the detectives or leave it until morning?" Ram asked even though he had his own opinion.

The officers looked at each other and then at him.

"Tomorrow should be okay, as long as she doesn't stay here. I would hate to be called back out and then get the homicide boys out," Reid said.

Ram's stomach clenched at the thought.

"I agree, Chief," Matthews said. "I would hate for it to be like that. Plus, the detectives are a bunch of bastards when crime interrupts their beauty sleep."

Ram couldn't help his smile at Matthew's description.

"Okay, you two keep it covered and I'll see you tomorrow," Ram did another scan of both their faces. These were two of his best officers and he hated to have them on the night rotation but in their small town having every officer do a night shift on a weekly rotation was just part and parcel of having the job.

Ram looked around Marianne's apartment.

It had been a warm and cozy place the last time he was here and now it was completely destroyed. To him, with his experience, it didn't just look like someone had been searching for something.

It looked like the perpetrator had been enraged at something or someone. There was too much destruction to just be searching.

He made his way out of the apartment and down the outside set of stairs, making his way to his truck.

To Marianne.

He felt his heart begin to beat a faster rhythm as he thought about her.

Which happened every time he thought about her.

For whatever reason he, the Chief of Police in Grantham, had a thing for that particular bit of blonde fluff. He had fallen under her spell from the first time he saw her.

And that 'spell' just kept intensifying the more he saw her.

He tried to remain casual as he opened the truck door and eased himself into the seat.

"How bad is it?" Marianne asked. "Is it, no worries you should be able to go back in tomorrow?"

He saw her eyes roam over his face when he didn't answer.

Her teeth caught her lower lip before she said, "Okay, then."

Ram's eyes caught on her mouth and he had to force himself to look away.

He really liked her mouth.

"Where'd you park?" he asked without looking at her again.

"About five cars back."

He put the truck in reverse and put his arm on the top of her seat as he rolled the few feet to her car.

"Just follow me. My house isn't far and at this time of night we shouldn't have any traffic."

Marianne's seatbelt released and her body was already turned towards the truck's door before she responded. "Okay."

"Uhm, MG?"

"Yeah?" She paused in getting out of the truck.

"Are you okay to drive?"

She understood what he was asking. Was she too shaky to drive or was she too traumatized to drive?

"I'm okay, Ram."

"You'd tell me if you weren't, right?"

"You'd be the very first person I'd tell," she said softly, trying not to smile.



*.*.*.*.*

Ram wasn't kidding about having a big place.

His house was huge.

"You live here by yourself?" I couldn't help but ask.

Not only was it huge, but the inside was decorated beautifully and had things like throw pillows and artwork on the walls.

In her experience, the single men she'd dated didn’t have huge houses that were decorated.

Single men that lived in humongous houses that were decorated were usually still living with their parents.

Not that she was dating Ram.

Yet.

"My Mataji fixed it up for me," Ram said moving through the living room and turning on lights. "But, yeah, I live alone."

"Mah-tah-gee?" I asked.

"My mother. She's English but I still use the Hindi word when I speak about her. To her face, I just call her Mom."

"Oh," I said still standing by the front door.

"You can come in, Marianne," Ram said with a grin as he took off his coat. "Just take your boots off first."

"Oh," I repeated easing my feet out of my heels while watching Ram. He was still wearing what he wore to Jake and Cait's party, which was the first time I'd seen him in anything other than his uniform.

And he looked hot in his uniform.

But he was smoking hot in his jeans and button down shirt.

I tried to tear my eyes away.

Really, I did.

"Do you want to keep staring at me or can I show you to your room?" His voice held a trace of humor.

Damn.

Caught.

Just call me 'sure bust', because I've never been able to get away with anything.

"The room is a good idea," I said sheepishly.

Ram led me down a long hallway that was covered with framed photos of people.

I stopped before one of the larger frames which appeared to be a professionally done. I recognized Ram, who along with two other gorgeous men, was standing behind two seated people.

"Your family?"

"Yep. Those are my brothers, Ajit on the right and Tarun on the left. My parents are seated in front."

"Good looking family."

"Thanks. Here's your room," he said opening the middle door on the long expansive hall.

He turned on one of the bedside lamps and I saw that this bedroom, just like his living room, was beautifully done in dark wood furniture. The queen size bed had a white duvet and pillows but the white was broken up by light aqua printed throw pillows, the same color that was repeated in the afghan folded at the end of the bed as well as the curtains.

"The bathroom is through that door, with toothbrushes and paste underneath the sink. The remote for the TV is in the top drawer of the nightstand."

I followed his hand with my eyes, notating what he was saying with half an ear, because the moment I stepped over the threshold of the bedroom, it hit me.

I was in a bedroom with Ram.

Oh, God.

This was like one of my fifty fantasies of Ram brought to life. True, we were both fully dressed, well, except for our shoes and he had not done anything that was particularly sexy or intimate in any way.

Yet.

He was being, just like he always had been, a perfect gentleman.

But I was in a bedroom with Ram and my body was aware of it in a big way.

A deeply, throbbing way.

"Ah, do you need, uhm, something to sleep in?" he asked.

I glanced up at him and saw he was blushing.

Actually blushing.

"You mean as opposed to sleeping naked?" I countered and couldn't keep the humor out of my voice.

His hand went up to rub the back of his neck. Then he nodded.

"A t-shirt should be fine, if you can spare one."

I got a chin tilt in acknowledgement but noticed he wouldn't look at me directly.

"Be right back," he mumbled.

While he was gone, I poked around the room and its adjoining bathroom. All of it perfectly decorated and more than adequately appointed.

"Here you go," I heard him say and I wandered back into the bedroom to see he had placed a folded bit of light blue fabric on the bed. "There are hangers in the closet if you want to, ah, hang up your dress."

I nodded and looked where he was pointing. Why wouldn't he look at me?

"Thanks, Ram. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this," I said softly moving to him and putting my hand on his forearm.

His eyes finally, finally, caught when they tilted down to mine.

"It is my very great pleasure to have you in my home," he said formally but equally as soft as his deep, dark chocolate eyes captured mine.

And we just stood there looking at each other.

Having a moment.

Our moment.

Oh, God.

Then my stupid, freaking cellphone rang. Rang with the ringtone I'd assigned to Paul Adler.

Correction, Detective Paul Adler.

Who reported directly to Chief of Police, Ramjet Patel.

Christ on a cracker.

"I'll let you get that," Ram said pulling away. "Sleep well."

I watched him close the door with a sinking heart and didn't move until I heard the gentle click of the door closing.

Damn!

I pulled my purse off the bed and pulled out my cellphone which had, of freaking course, stopped ringing just before the door closed.

Double damn!

Sighing, I sat on the edge of the bed with my cellphone in my hand. I didn't want to call Paul back but I most definitely did want Ram to come back.

Aw, geez.

I grabbed the shirt that Ram had brought and went into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for bed.

The shower was absolutely amazing with the different settings on the showerhead, and I took full advantage of the one for massage.

It was freaking heavenly.

I dried off with one of Ram's (of course in my head I was squeeing RAM'S, underlined and with exclamation points) thick towels and found he didn't just have toothbrushes and tooth paste underneath the sink. He had a treasure trove of mini-shampoos, conditioners, body lotions, etc.

Looks like someone travels a lot.

The light blue cotton fabric Ram had lent me to sleep in wasn't one of his button down shirts like I thought. It was one of the tops to the pajama-type clothing you see in news clips of the men in Pakistan or India.

Cool!

But when I put it on, the bottom hem hit right at my ankles and I had to roll back the sleeves several times to keep my hands exposed. It had a Henley-like button thing which I thought was supposed to go from maybe mid-chest to the bottom of your neck.

On me, though, it hit at my mid-waist.

But it felt wonderful and smelled even better. I had noticed a spicy scent to Ram's house when I first walked in, one I was completely unfamiliar with it. I smelled it again on the top.

I was walking back to my purse which I had carelessly flung on the bed when it hit me.

Ram brought me something to wear to bed, and it was blue.

He noticed.

I consider blue to be my signature color, and he got that.

He had gotten it from just being with me for an half-hour in my apartment.

Oh, God.

I grabbed what I called my 'de-tangler' from my purse and went to work on my hair as I tried to digest this info.

No, it's not some sort of special apparatus or anything. In fact, Teresa from work calls it my 'afro pick'. Since my hair was so curly, it's the only thing I can really use on it to get the tangles out. A simple four - toothed, hot pink comb. All I knew was it got the job done with minimal problems.

I picked my phone up and saw Paul had left a voicemail.

I sighed.

We had been 'dating' for a couple of weeks since meeting in Cait's hospital room. He was one of the police officer's who had rescued her from the clutches of Fiona Preston, the pole dancing nutcase.

He had come to see if Caitlin was alright and was so charming I couldn't help flirting with him.

He flirted right back and asked for my phone number.

So I gave it to him.

All this was done with Ram in the room.

Correction, with Ram glowering at me and Paul from across the room.

But, then, Ram never asked for my number.

Dammit.

Since then, Paul and I had been out on a couple of dates, which were a lot of fun. But I got the impression he thought there was more between us just two friends going out for fun.

Paul liked to touch.

He seemed to enjoy holding my hand or putting his arm around my waist. I tried to tell myself he was just one of those people that feel comfortable touching other people.

But his touches, casual or not, made me feel uncomfortable.

But he was nice and he was sweet.

And he really was gorgeous.

But.

He wasn't Ram.

I raised an arm to sniff at the fabric again and got lost in the smell wondering if Ram's skin smelled like this.