She fiddled with the small diamond pendant around her neck. "Well, I know this is going to sound strange, but I'm a bit hypersensitive to smells."

"And you recognized his cologne?" Constable Delgado didn't hide his disappointment very well. He put the pen and paper back in his pocket and folded his muscular arms over his wide chest.

"Well, that's just it. He wasn't wearing any cologne. In fact, he was completely odorless."

Delgado raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I can put out an APB on an unscented perpetrator. Anything else you can remember?"

"You're not getting me. He had no smell. At all. Do you know how unusual that is?"

He looked at her blankly.

Kayla leaned forward over the table and angled her head towards him. "Here. Tell me this. What do you smell?"

Delgado leaned forward over the table and took a tentative sniff. "Strawberries?"

Holly felt his warm, minty breath brush her forehead and closed her eyes in reaction as an unexpected shiver travelled down her spine. "Exactly. My shampoo smells like strawberries. And you use Irish Spring soap and Tide detergent. Plus, you're wearing some kind of spicy deodorant. And don't mention this to your partner, but he needs to lay off the garlic a bit."

He chuckled. "Wow. Good trick. You're like a bloodhound."

Holly didn't mention that she'd given him a really good sniff during the few seconds she'd been in his arms earlier. She usually couldn't tolerate strong scents, but he had smelled heavenly; manly and subtle, like a guy should. It had been a comforting scent at the time, exactly what she'd needed to feel safe and protected. And despite her terror, desire had stirred in the pit of her stomach. Even before she'd had a good look at his face, she'd wanted to breathe that clean, warm scent in and hold it in her lungs. To keep a part of him inside her as a talisman against harm.

"Thanks," she grinned ruefully. Had he just called her a dog? "But my point is that he didn't have even a trace of scent. Nothing. Do you know how rare that is? I mean, you really have to work at it to find unscented products. And they're typically more expensive than the smelly ones. People just aren't accidentally scent free. It's calculated. I think that means that he's sensitive to them himself, or someone close to him can't stand smells at all. What do you think? Is that a good theory? Can you use this at all to catch him?" She looked up at the officer hopefully, but he just stared across at her and rubbed his strong chin thoughtfully.

Holly couldn't help but notice that Delgado was smooth-shaven, but starting to show the dark-shadowed signs of stubble along his jaw-line. He was probably one of those guys who had to shave twice a day to avoid looking unkempt. Idly, she wondered how he would look after a few days in bed. Probably like a very sexy Grizzly Adams. Shocked at the wayward direction of her thoughts, she forced herself to stop thinking about all the delicious ways she would like Constable Delgado to give her whisker burn.

He stopped rubbing his chin and gave her an apologetic look. "I don't really see how. At least not in any official capacity. I suppose if we caught a prowler with a similar M.O. we could check to see if he had a scent allergy or was married to someone with an aversion. But otherwise, I don't see how we could conclusively link him to your case without a more solid lead. Can you think of something else? You're sure he didn't say anything?"

Holly's heart dropped in her chest. She'd never felt such profound disappointment before. She knew her observation wasn't exactly a positive identification, but she still thought it had some merit. She appreciated the cop's honesty, but it would have been nice if he'd allowed her to cling to her deluded belief that she'd provided some useful information. She desperately wanted that horrible man to be put away. The thought that he was out there, probably in a rage at having his plans interrupted, terrified her. Worse, what if he took out his disappointment on someone else? She couldn't even contemplate that idea without feeling panic surge through her body.

She shook her head. "No. He didn't say a word. I don't even know how long he sat there. I just woke up with the feeling that I wasn't alone, and then you were pounding at the door. It all happened so fast. Except for the smell thing, I really don't have any impression of him at all." She laced her fingers together and looked down at her mostly naked lap, trying unsuccessfully not to cry. To her complete mortification, hot tears started running down her cheeks uncontrollably. She whisked them away with the side of her hand, but more just kept coming.

"I'm really sorry," she said, darting a glance at him and then looking away. "I don't even know why I'm crying. I must look like a complete basket case, right? Nothing violent even happened and I'm falling apart." She grabbed one of the paper napkins out of the vintage, diner-style dispenser on the table and began rubbing vigorously at her flushed cheeks.

"Miss Chambers?" He said her name softly to get her attention.

"What?" She said, sounding a bit muffled.

"I don't think you're a basket case. In fact, I think you're pretty damn brave. And I don't think you're falling apart either. What you're feeling is a delayed reaction to the adrenaline spike from earlier. It's completely normal and you shouldn't be apologizing for being upset." His tone turned dark and threatening, like he could barely contain his rage. "That dick-head who snuck into your home in the middle of the night is the one that should be sorry. Really sorry. Not you."

She looked up at him, and was shocked at his intense expression. He suddenly resembled an avenging angel, bent on the ultimate destruction of all adversaries, not a seasoned cop doing his job. Until this second, he had been sweet and kind, but detached. A real professional. For just an instant, she got a glimpse at what was actually going on behind those gorgeous brown eyes, and she felt a completely inappropriate thrill go through her again. This guy was kind of scary, but in the sexiest way imaginable.

Then he got control of himself and his expression became placid again.

"Like I said before," Delgado said, his professional tone back in place. "You've had a rough night, and you shouldn't beat yourself up just because something awful DIDN'T happen. That really is basket case talk. So give yourself a break and cry if you want to."

He looked like he was about to say more, when Holly's front door burst open and her mother, Emma Chambers, rushed into the apartment, with Constable Gill following in her wake.

Mrs. Chambers embraced Holly while simultaneously admonishing her once again for living in "this Godless cesspool of a city." She glared at the two police officers over Holly's head. "Well? What are you two Keystone Cops doing exactly?" She pointed at Constable Gill with one gem-encrusted hand. "This one is outside, dumpster diving like some kind of fool, and the other one is in here, drinking tea with my indecently dressed daughter." To drive home her point, Mrs. Chambers grabbed a tea towel from the nearby stove's handle and wrapped it around the front of Holly's body, attempting to cover up her daughter's ample cleavage.

"Would it be asking too much for you to be doing something useful? Like, I don't know, catching the psycho who came in here and assaulted my child?"

Holly groaned. Her mom had a tendency to get antagonistic when she was upset. And being called in the middle of the night and being informed that her daughter needed her would definitely bring out all of her protective instincts. Holly loved her, but she really couldn't see how criticizing the police would help this situation. Her mother was just going to alienate the only people who actually gave a damn about finding the man who had invaded her home. If she kept this up, her mother would be lucky to avoid spending the night in jail herself.