by Ashley Ladd
So how could he smoke her out? He leaned back in his chair, tapping his chin. Maybe he could stage a setup? If he got the captain’s permission, he could have dispatch make a phony call for help. He couldn’t do it this evening as he’d made a date with Haley that he didn’t want to break, but he could set it up for the following night.
Scraping back his chair, he stood and tapped Brad on the shoulder. “Come with me.”
“Where we goin’?” Brad dogged his footsteps. “What scheme’s in your little pea brain?”
“I’ve got an idea I want to try.” Cole strode purposefully, eager to set his plan in motion. He thought about asking for the captain’s permission, but he didn’t want his mystery woman to get in trouble when they revealed her, so he preferred to keep this under wraps. Maybe the dispatcher would help him on the sly.
He draped a casual arm over Sheila’s shoulders and crooked his most charming smile.
She smelled of the broccoli, carrots, cauliflower and French onion vegetable dip she chomped on. “What d’ya want?” Photographs of her kids, cats and dogs covered her desk vying for space with her work. A pile of bills spilled haphazardly across the top of the desk.
He bent to eye level and whispered in her ear. “I need a big favor.”
She eyed him skeptically. “I know that tone of voice. It won’t get me in trouble, will it?” She held up the vegetable platter. “Want some? It’s better than that junk food you always fill up on.”
He snagged a raw carrot as he eyed Brad for help. When his buddy just shrugged and said nothing, Cole poured on the charm. “Not much trouble. Nothing you can’t handle.”
He scoured his mind for something Sheila might want from him. “I can fix your car for free next time you need it. Or come over and do some repairs on your house.” He could tell she was considering his proposal, and he willed her to help him.
“It’s not illegal, is it?” She dipped a piece of cauliflower in the dip and licked it clean.
Brad whistled under his breath, turned away his head, and wrung his hands together behind his back.
“Not really. I’ll fix your car and make a house repair.” He hoped he wasn’t getting himself in over his head. He was a fair mechanic and repairman. As the eldest son in a large family, he’d been called upon to be responsible at an early age.
Sheila popped the white floret in her mouth and pumped his hand enthusiastically. “Done deal! I need new brakes. When do we start?”
He could barely decipher her words through her mouthful of food. Relief flooded him. His plan couldn’t fail. “I’ll let you know. When’s your next evening shift?” He preferred to do his covert operations after dark so his backup could hide in the shadows. He hoped for a moonless night.
“Tomorrow night.”
Cole threw a paper wad at Brad to get his attention. It hit him on the back of his neck, so that he whirled, scowling. “Tomorrow night good for you?”
Brad bent to retrieve the wadded-up paper and tossed it in Sheila’s trash. He rubbed his neck, still glaring at his partner. “Yeah. If you promise not to do that anymore.”
“Tomorrow night it is then.” Cole winked at the dispatcher and shoved a broccoli floret into his mouth. He felt much better knowing he had a plan to catch his mystery woman. Soon, he would know her true identity. Anticipation danced along his nerve endings and he couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear.
Chapter Five
Haley rushed around getting ready for her date with Cole. The logistics of dressing for dinner and a trip to the batting cages made it difficult to choose an outfit. She finally chose a one-piece, cherry-red culottes outfit that made her skin glow. Belting it, she emphasized her tiny waist. Posing in front of her floor-to-ceiling mirror, turning forward, then sideways, she decided she looked sporty, but chic. She was one sexy mama!
Would the night end in more hot, delirious sex!
Whew! She was as delirious as the sex and she shivered deliciously.
Just in case he got snoopy and suspected her of being his rescuer, she bundled up the Catwoman costume and brunette wig, and hid them underneath her mattress. She didn’t think he suspected her, but then again, it could be the reason he had invited her out tonight.
Knocking on the door made her jump and she sucked in her breath. Schooling her expression into one of amiability and greeting, she crossed her heart and hoped she wouldn’t make a fool of herself. She’d only dreamed of this moment for years.
God, he looked sexy when he grinned, his chin dimpling and crinkles fanning out at the corners of his eyes. Her knees almost gave out and she quivered with wanton lust. Her blood positively simmered.
His gaze went south of her face, zeroing in on her breasts, and then dipped further to her waist. He let out a long, low, sexy whistle. “Unless you lost three or four dress sizes in an hour, you’ve been holding out on us.”
“I didn’t hide anything.” She quivered and tried to shrug nonchalantly, simultaneously feeling insulted and complimented. She let him into her humble apartment decorated—or rather undecorated—with mismatched furniture she’d been given by family and friends, or picked up at thrift shops and garage sales. “I can’t help it if people assume I’m larger than I am.”
He leaned against the wall, blocking her exit, and stared deeply into her eyes. “Assume nothing. You wear shapeless, unflattering clothes to work. How are we to know you’ve been hiding a dynamite figure? What else have you been hiding? And why?”
The expression in his eyes stole her breath. So he thought she had a sexy figure? Or did he suspect more? Maybe he was merely teasing? She couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to commit the sin of assuming one way or the other. So she chose her next words carefully. “Whatever would I be hiding?”
She scooped up her softball glove, slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for the door chuckling dryly. “You sure you want to teach me to bat? You gotta be a masochist.”
Cole’s grin turned lopsided and his eyebrows danced. He held the door wide. “I enjoy a good challenge.”
She laughed lightly, gliding past him, curls bouncing carefree around her cheeks. “There’s challenges, and there’s challenges.”
“Which one are you?” He followed so closely behind her, his hot breath licked her neck and sent flames rasping down her spine straight to her pussy.
Turning toward him, she favored him with a steady grin. “I’m a challenge.” When her lips almost collided with his, she wished she hadn’t turned. It would only take two inches, just a tiny little misstep, and her lips would be in heaven. She could trip accidentally on purpose, couldn’t she? So what if it was a feminine wile? She was on fire now and could barely think straight.
She tried to get up the courage, but couldn’t, and told herself she should be drummed out of Femme Fatales-R-Us. Maybe if she were in her disguise, she could find the nerve. The thought rolled around in her head as she stepped out into the early evening light. What if she tracked him down off duty one night when no one had a gun to his head?
The idea had merit.
“Lobster or lobster?” He helped her into his car, which she noted with horror, was parked only two spaces away from Sher’s motorcycle. Had he noticed it? Would it occur to him that it could be the same motorcycle his costumed crusader had ridden? Nervous, she bit her bottom lip and dug her fingernails into her palm.
Playing devil’s advocate, she asked, “What if I don’t like lobster?”
“Everybody loves lobster.” He turned his head, smiling at her just as they drove past the motorcycle.
His expression didn’t falter, so he must not have noticed it. Forcing herself to breathe normally, she turned in her seat, resting her chin on her arm as she drank in her fill of him and breathed in his wonderful scent—spearmint and Old Spice—letting it wrap around her. “Nah-uh. Not everyone likes lobster. Some people are allergic to seafood or plain dislike it. They think lobsters look like giant bugs.”
Obviously a frustrated actor, he gave an e
xaggerated shudder. “Now that’s an appetizing thought. So, you don’t like lobster? You’d rather eat a cow?”
Deciding she’d given him enough of a hard time, she confessed, “I love lobster.” But if they went for lobster now, they’d lose all their daylight and not have time to practice batting. And she really wanted to feel his arms around her and his breath on her neck again. She squinted at the still bright sun. “But there’s not enough time. We can grab a sandwich on the way, and I’ll be fine.”
“Ah, but the batting cages are lit. They’re open late.” He stopped at a red light. “Moonlit softball is very romantic and I do my best work on a full stomach.” He turned north onto State Road Seven toward Pompano and Tradewinds Park.
His best work?
She trembled deliciously, eager to get to work.
They passed the old, burned-down Army-Navy building, and what seemed like miles upon miles of strip malls, each boasting either a Thai or Chinese restaurant, and probably more thrift stores per square mile than in the rest of the U.S. combined. Everything blurred for she only had eyes for Cole. He slowed and turned into a well-known seafood restaurant.
Soon they were seated at a secluded table for two, with romantic music washing over them. “Can I get you anything to wet your whistle? Margaritas are twofers all night for the ladies.” A matronly waitress with bleached blonde hair and at least eight ear studs in each earlobe handed menus to them and poised her pen over her order pad.
“Just a soda for me.” Cole’s glance never once flickered toward the beer and liquor list.
“Diet soda, please.” Haley looked askance at Cole, figuring him for a macho, beer-guzzling sort of guy.
“Why the look of surprise?” His knee bumped hers under the narrow table.
Or had he deliberately touched her? Her voice came out low and husky. “Well, most cops I know need a beer or two after a grueling day on the job. I expected you to be the same.”
“I don’t drink.” He leaned back in his seat and slumped a little. A haunted light crept into his eyes, darkening them as he stared off into the distance. Just when she thought they were going to dine in silence, he murmured, “My best buddy in high school died because of alcohol.”
Pity flooded her and she laid a consoling hand atop his. “How awful! I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I had no idea.”
He turned his hand over and captured hers, squeezing it. “We were underage and we convinced his older brother to buy us a six-pack. We got smashed out of our skulls, and then he plowed into a semi on the way home.”
Horrified, she gasped, pain slicing through her. “I’m so very sorry, Cole! That must’ve been terrible for you.”
“It was.” He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, mesmerizing her. “But it’s what made me decide to become a cop.”
The waitress dropped off their sodas and a basket of warm rolls, and took their orders. Then she limped away, her gait just slightly rollicking, as if she had swollen feet or arthritic knees.
Haley gazed deeply into her companion’s eyes, trying to delve into his soul. “If you hadn’t always wanted to be a cop, what did you want to be before?”
A sexy grin tugged at his lips and he traced the rim of his glass with his fingertip, staring into the bubbly, dark brown liquid. “Can’t you guess?”
She studied him, realizing she knew next to nothing about him. “An astronaut?” she hazarded. When a look of horror flashed into his eyes, she took a wild, deliberately off-kilter guess. “A brain surgeon?”
He laughed, a very deep, masculine laugh. “Strike two. One more strike and you’re out.”
Delighted, inspiration struck her, and she snapped her fingers in front of his nose, victory in her voice. “I know! You wanted to be a professional baseball player.” Parched after her mental workout, she sipped her drink, the ice clinking in the glass.
The waitress slid their salads onto the table silently, a monstrous crouton tumbling off Cole’s plate. “You folks doin’ okay?”
“Fine, thank you.” Haley stabbed a chunk of lettuce with her fork and lifted it to her mouth. The tangy ranch dressing tickled her nose and tantalized her tongue.
“Bingo!” Cole’s grin spread from ear to ear. His fork clanked on the plate as he tried to spear a crouton and splintered it.
Haley wrinkled her nose at him. “But what were you going to do if you didn’t make it? Or after you grew up?” She’d have bought season tickets to watch him play. She would have been his biggest fan.
“Gone into the family business, probably.” He didn’t offer any further insight.
Curious as to why he didn’t sound particularly thrilled with the edict, she was about ready to pull the information out of him. “Which is…?”
Suddenly, he became extremely interested in his salad, his head bent over it. He mumbled something unintelligible.
She leaned forward and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t catch that.”
He muttered a little louder, but she still couldn’t decipher his words. Was she going deaf as well as blind?
A young waiter carried a huge tray to their table, balancing it on the flat of one hand over his shoulder. He wore his night-black hair in a ponytail and one white shirttail had pulled out of his slacks. He lowered the tray to a stand their waitress opened and bussed their dirty dishes as she served their lobster entrees and replaced the now cold basket of rolls with a fresh hot one.
Scents of garlic, butter, and lobster almost made Haley swoon with pleasure. The food still sizzled and a curl of steam wafted up.
“Be careful. Those plates are burning hot.” The older woman eyed Cole’s almost empty glass and confiscated it. “I’ll bring you another soda. Can I get you anything else?”
“Another soda’ll be great.” Cole dazzled both Haley and the waitress with a huge smile. Mischief lit his eyes as he kissed his joined thumb and fingers with an Italian flourish. “Umm, delicious. Bugs.” He picked up his knife and fork and cut into the juicy white meat.
“Gross!” She scooted back from her giant bug, grimacing, watching him enjoy his dinner.
He lifted a brow at her and pointed his fork at her food. “You’d better eat. Hot bug is much better than cold bug.” He emphasized the word “bug” as if he gained immense satisfaction from it.
Trying to ignore her loudly growling stomach, she swatted at his hand. “Stop that!”
“What’d I do?” His eyes widened too innocently. “Say ‘bug’?”
“Yes!” she hissed, ready to brain him for his male insensitivity and deliberately grossing her out.
He chuckled as he stuffed another bite of lobster in his mouth. “I’m just repeating your description. Remember?” His singsong voice grated on her nerves.
“Oh,” she murmured, kicking her own booty. Grumbling under her breath, she added, “Now you hang on my every word.”
“What was that?” Cole leaned toward her, and cut her lobster, his utensils clicking together.
“Nothing.” Yikes! Her big mouth was going to get her into serious trouble one day. She had to be way more careful. His question reminded her that she still hadn’t heard the answer to her last question. “So, what does your family do?”
He fed her a succulent lobster morsel drenched in melted butter, his illegally seductive gaze glued on her lips. “It’s good, isn’t it?”
She quivered uncontrollably and her eyes closed in ecstasy as the seafood melted in her mouth. Another piece tantalized her lips, seducing them to part. She could get used to his company. “Wonderful bug,” she said in a dreamy, sultry voice.
“My dad’s the toilet king of Minneapolis.”
Huh? She clamped her jaw so it wouldn’t drop open. She really was going deaf. He couldn’t have said what she just thought he had said. “Excuse me?”
Cole grimaced as an angry red blush stole into his cheeks. “He’s the toilet king,” he pronounced very succinctly. “We manufacture toilet bowls.”
An irreverent pic
ture popped into Haley’s head of a crowned Cole sitting atop a commode, a plunger in his hand instead of a scepter. “I guess that makes you the toilet prince.”
A stormy scowl spread over his face. “If you breathe a word about this to anyone, I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” Mirth exploded in her which she couldn’t contain another second. “Flush me down one of your toilets?” She laughed so hard, she had to hold her stomach and the table shook, rattling the dishes.
Cole ignored her until she stopped. “I’m never telling another living soul.” He speared a big chunk of lobster and crammed it in his mouth ferociously. Then he lifted his piercing gaze to hers. “Was your life ambition to be a secretary?”
She shook her head. “No. I always knew I wanted to be a c—” She cut herself off, horrified she’d almost made a lethal slip. If he knew she had police training or even suspected, it wouldn’t take him long to extrapolate who her alter ego was.
Oh, God! What other professions started with the hard “k” sound? Her mind drew a blank. Kangaroo trainer? Car salesman? Kite designer? She latched on to the first halfway plausible one that came to mind. “Cat doctor. I-I mean veterinarian.” She almost choked on her brazen lie.
He finished off his lobster and baked potato, and then pushed away his plate. Wadding up his napkin, he tossed it on top of the plate. “So, how’d you go from veterinarian to secretary?”
She chewed slowly, trying to come up with a logical answer. “Well, I, uh, couldn’t stand the sight of blood. And I couldn’t afford the monstrous tuition. Veterinary college is very expensive.”
“Check, please,” he called to their server, waving his arm over his head.
Whew! He seemed to have bought her blatant lies. Relief flowed through her. She’d almost crucified herself. She’d have to weigh every word out of her mouth when she was around him.
* * * * *
“Would you become a pro ballplayer if someone offered it to you?” Haley watched him closely, as he negotiated traffic.
“That’s a toughie,” he finally said. “I’m over thirty now, so there’s no chance anyway…but if there were, I think I’d stay right where I’m at.”
