"It's been way too long since we've gotten together," Derek said, his eyes meeting Landon's in the locker room mirror. They'd just finished a killer game of squash, and they were both dripping with sweat. "Hell of a game, though."
"Right on both counts." Detective Landon Ware and Derek had been having drinks at The Fix On Sixth the night that he met Amanda. They'd met when Landon was working in the Dallas Police Department ten years before and had been assigned to investigate a suspicious death in one of the Dallas Winston Hotel's rooms. Murder, it turned out. A wife who'd poisoned the engraved water bottle her husband took with him to work, because she was certain he was having an affair. She was right. And the husband and the mistress had died in the penthouse.
"You're still seeing that cute girl you were checking out last year?"
He nodded. "Hard to believe it's been that long."
"Time flies," Landon said. "You two must be serious." Landon was a strong man, and he looked it. Not huge, but a solid block of muscle, covered by a layer of tattooed, black skin. But he had exceptionally kind eyes, and it was Derek's theory that the combination was what made him such a great detective. Everybody talked when Landon was in the interrogation room.
Just like Derek was talking now. "I think we are. Hard to know."
"Is it? I haven't really dated much--not since that shit with Vanessa--but I seem to recall the question being a little more clear cut."
"I'm pretty sure nothing is clear cut where women are concerned." He sat on the bench and pulled on his shoes. "I'm out of here. I'm actually meeting her in an hour. A work free Saturday for both of us."
"Give me a call when she doesn't have you tied down." Landon winked, then tossed his locker key and caught it. "We'll have a rematch."
"You got it."
Derek showered and was out of the gym in record time. He waved to the owner, Matthew Herrington, then stepped out into a gorgeous spring day. He headed down Congress toward his condo, pausing only when he saw a familiar face coming toward him.
It took him a second, but he finally recognized the tall man with dark hair and movie star looks. "Parker? Parker Manning."
He saw the confusion on Parker's face, then the recognition as Parker shook his head in surprise. "I almost didn't recognize you," Derek said. "It's been, what? Ten years?"
"About that. I'm not even sure where I saw you last."
"Something to do with our parents, I'm sure."
Both Parker and Derek came from families with Texas money that was sunk deep. The Manning family with their oil and gas roots, and the Winston family with ranching and the hotel chain. And despite popular opinion, the high roller club in Texas wasn't overflowing with members. Most anyone with that kind of portfolio knew everyone else, and Parker and Derek had spent many afternoons together at country clubs and other watering holes for old Texas money.
"Are you living here now?" Derek asked Parker. "I thought I'd heard you were in LA."
"Was. Just moved to Austin. Well," he amended, "my company's been here for awhile, but I just made the move myself."
As he spoke, he was looking over Derek's shoulder, and he took one long step to the right, which put him behind Derek. Then he slipped into the shadows of a nearby building's entrance alcove.
"Problem?"
Parker shook his head. "I know that woman."
Derek glanced over his shoulder at a woman with long dark hair and cat's eye glasses, then looked back at Parker. "Bad breakup?"
"Not exactly. Let's just say I want to stay off her radar for awhile. I think she needs some space," he added, obviously in response to Derek's questioning expression.
"Looks like you've b
ecome quite the gentleman."
Parker's lips twitched. "It happens. So what's up with you?"
"Work. Travel. I did just close a deal to purchase a small motel to renovate." The owners of the South Congress Motor Inn had finally accepted the offer, and Derek couldn't wait to get the Winston Boutiques division up and running.
His phone rang, and he frowned when he saw that it was his assistant. "I need to take this. It's either an emergency or I'm going to have words with my assistant." She knew he preferred text or email on the weekends. Calls were strictly for crises.
"No problem. We'll catch up soon."
"Absolutely," Derek said, then connected the call. "Elizabeth? You know it's Saturday."