by Kylie Brant
“Sorry to interrupt you, but our food arrived a few minutes ago,” Madeline said, her gaze going curiously from one man to the other. “I didn’t want to let it get any colder.”
The man he’d called Dan slapped Cruz on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll let you go. I’ve held you up longer than I should have. I hope your gorgeous date will forgive our talking business.” Cruz didn’t correct his misconception, nor did he introduce them, two omissions noted by Madeline. He walked back to the table with her and they resumed their seats.
She watched him from beneath her lashes. He began eating, and he didn’t offer an explanation about his business with the other man. He was obviously preoccupied, and said little throughout the meal. She chewed mechanically, mentally going over the snippet of conversation she’d overheard. They could have been talking about the stock market, she thought, or about a business venture. A throbbing in her temples signaled the return of her headache. They could just as easily have been discussing an illicit business proposition. One that had to do with supplying crooks with state-of-the-art weaponry?
Her appetite vanished. It probably didn’t mean anything. But she knew she would have to add it to the file she kept at home, locked in her desk. The file of information to be included in a report to Brewer. He insisted on hearing every bit she gathered, no matter how seemingly insignificant. She wondered how significant he would consider this.
Deciding it was worth a try, she said nonchalantly, “Your friend seems to be leaving.”
Cruz’s eyes followed hers and saw that Dan was walking out the door. He looked back to her. “He’s just an acquaintance,” he said dismissively. “Are you done?” At her nod he reached for the check.
“I was invited to pay, remember?” she asked lightly, striving to appear normal.
He shook his head, his usual good nature absent. “I was just kidding. I’ll take care of it.”
“No.” She eased it from beneath his hand. “I insist. It’s the least I can do after you fed me last night.” Not waiting for an answer, she left the table and walked toward the front desk.
“Dammit, Madeline, wait,” Cruz said as he joined her. “I’m not going to let you do that.”
“Don’t worry, Martinez. There won’t be any strings attached,” she said teasingly, without thinking.
He looked hard at her. Strings attached? That wouldn’t worry him at all. It just might make him forget all the self-control he’d had to call on around her, though. The thought made him warm, as his imagination provided vivid pictures of what those strings might imply.
They turned away from the cash register finally, after agreeing to split the bill. Madeline hadn’t taken two steps before she heard a voice say, “Madeline Casey! It’s been too long!”
Recognizing the voice, she was loath to turn. But she did so, slowly. “Hello, Mr. Vincent.” Francis Vincent, a good friend of her father’s, rose from his table and grasped her hand. “I thought that was you, but it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, I wasn’t sure.” His gaze moved to Cruz. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Francis Vincent, a longtime friend of Madeline’s father.”
Cruz introduced himself and she could see the man mentally file the name away. She knew that it would be repeated to her father the very next time Vincent saw him, which would be sooner than Madeline would like. She wondered how long the information would take to reach Geoffrey Casey. She could already guess what his reaction would be to hearing she’d been seen having dinner with Cruz.
She excused herself as soon as possible from the man and hurried Cruz to the car. She resigned herself to the certainty that she would soon be in for a disapproving call regarding her lack of judgment where Cruz was concerned. And she knew her father’s meddling would touch a nerve. Because she was beginning to wonder herself just how clouded her judgment might be getting.
Chapter 9
The next morning Madeline was waiting impatiently in her apartment building elevator. It stopped at yet another floor, and a half dozen people got out. As the doors closed, a deep voice sounded from behind her.
“Nice legs.”
She whirled around and groaned feelingly. “What are you doing here?”
Cruz grinned from his position in the corner of the compartment. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and the look with which he was painting her was one of pure male appreciation. She was wearing an oversize sweatshirt, which almost covered her brief running shorts. Between the hem of those shorts and the rolled-down socks and tennis shoes was approximately thirty inches of the smoothest, shapeliest legs he’d ever observed. And, being a self-acknowledged leg man, his observations had been numerous.
“Looking for you, of course,” he answered. “Ariel heard me knocking at your door and advised me that you would be home in about fifteen minutes, so I decided to hang around.”
“You’ve been riding up and down in the elevator while you waited?” she inquired.
“I’m easily amused.”
Her lips wanted to tilt, but she firmed them. “Obviously.” When she’d entered the elevator she hadn’t paid much attention to its occupants. Her mind had already been busy planning the next segment of her day, now that she’d put in her time at the gym. Until she’d heard Cruz’s voice she’d assumed that she was alone after the last bunch of passengers disembarked.
“Actually, I came down to fetch Ariel’s paper.” For the first time she noticed the newspaper tucked under his arm. “She said she needed to see her horoscope before she could start her day.”
Madeline rolled her eyes. “That’s probably true.” For once she was grateful for her friend’s superstitious nature. She would much rather have Cruz running errands for the woman than spending any noticeable amount of time in her company. Ariel was lovable and funny, but she was also sometimes a real blabbermouth. Madeline really didn’t trust her friend not to divulge something sensitive to him while she had the chance.
She narrowed her eyes. Come to think of it, fifteen minutes was plenty of time for Ariel to have told Cruz any number of embarrassing things, including the description Madeline had given her of him. She looked at him suspiciously. There was no telling from his face what, if anything, Ariel had blurted out. Aware of her interest, he raised his eyebrows.
She looked away belatedly. Whatever Ariel might have told him, he would let it out at the earliest inopportune moment. If there was one thing she’d learned about the man, it was that he was an incurable tease. That certainty, accompanied by her discomfort at his seeing her while she was sweaty and half-bare, put her decidedly out of sorts.
“Ariel was right about the time you got home,” he added. “To the minute. How do you suppose she guessed that?”
She wasn’t fooled by his innocent tone. She knew exactly what he was getting at. “If that’s another dig about my ‘regimented’ life, you can take a hike, Martinez. Maybe if you were a little more scheduled yourself, you’d stop and think before you just showed up on a person’s doorstep. There’s this wonderful invention you may have heard of. It’s called a cell phone.”
He smiled. He doubted she liked him seeing her without her professional battle gear of those tailored suits and pulled-back hair. She looked completely different right now in her exercise garb, and he’d give a month’s pay to see her without the bulky sweatshirt. You’re really losing it, Martinez, he mentally derided himself. The last time he’d been this turned on just by seeing a woman’s legs, he’d been in junior high. And he didn’t remember any time he’d been as fascinated by a woman’s hair. For the first time sham he’d met her, she was wearing it down, and it was as glorious as he’d imagined. The thick red length reached just to her shoulders, and at the moment its riotous mass of curls was held away from her face by a thick, stretchy headband.
He looked his fill, enjoying every moment of the opportunity, aware that with each passing second her temper was escalating. “You should learn to be more spontaneous,” he finally suggested. The elevator opened an
d they walked toward her apartment. “Following a schedule just seems to make you uptight.”
She threw him a fuming glance as she unlocked her door. “I am not having this conversation with you again,” she informed him as he followed her into the apartment.
“Of course not, there’s no need,” he responded, going directly to the sofa and dropping onto it. “Because today we’re going to alter your usual dull schedule. Go ahead and get dressed, I’ll wait.”
She stared at him, her hands going to her hips. He unfolded Ariel’s paper and began reading it. After several moments he seemed to notice that she was still standing there. “What?”
“Martinez, go home.” She had no desire to spend yet another day in his company. Although the week seemed to fly by too quickly when it came to investigating the case, each weekend was a welcome respite from having to spend every working hour with him. She desperately needed the time apart to regain her objectivity, not to mention to write up her reports for Brewer. By the time they had parted last night her headache had returned, in spades. Seeing Vincent at the restaurant, on top of wondering about the mysterious Dan whom Cruz had spoken to, had been the cause. She was confused and on edge. Madeline didn’t like the feelings. And she knew she wasn’t likely to get respite from either as long as she was in Cruz’s company.
“After all the time I spent waiting for you this morning, now you’re kicking me out?”
She wasn’t fooled by his wounded tone. “That’s right.” No matter what excuse he dreamed up for them to spend the day together, it wasn’t going to work. She had made a strategic mistake the night she’d let him cook supper for her. Now he assumed his tactics worked on her, just as they probably did on all women. But no longer, she vowed. She needed this time alone in order to figure out just what the man was up to, and she wasn’t going to let his presence here take her mind off that.
He unfolded his long form from her couch, and refolded the paper. “Okay,” he said agreeably. “I thought you were serious when you said you wanted to be with me all the time, but I guess you didn’t mean it.”
Her mouth hung open at the man’s audacity. “When did I say that?”
He regarded her patiently. “Last week, of course. At work.”
“Work,” she repeated. Comprehension slowly dawning, she asked cautiously, “Just what did you have planned for the day?”
“Well, you said last night we should talk to Cantoney again, and I think you’re right. But I don’t want to wait until Monday to do it. I’ve got an itchy feeling where he’s concerned, like something’s about to go down. I’m going to try to find him and talk to him today.” He shrugged and moved toward the door. “I figured you’d insist on coming with me, but I guess I was wrong.”
She closed her eyes in embarrassment. He’d done it to her again. Why had she automatically assumed that the man was here on a social visit? Because he’d tried to confuse her, the rat. And she knew how amused he’d be if she let on that he’d succeeded. “Hold on,” she commanded. He halted and turned to eye her quizzically. “Um, you’re right, I do want to come. Give me a minute, and I’ll change.”
Cruz moved back to the living-room area as she disappeared down a hallway. He heard the door shut behind her, and he allowed himself a tiny grin. Somehow he’d known that showing up here would throw her off kilter. Madeline Casey was too used to being in control, he decided as he settled himself onto the couch again. It did her good to have her usual cool manner blasted away once in a while. He hadn’t been lying-he did want to find Cantoney, as soon as possible. He could have called her and arranged to have her meet him. But something inside him was unwilling to let her off that easily. He sensed she tried to keep distance between them, even while they worked side by side. But that alone didn’t challenge him. There was just something about her.
Let’s face it, she bothered him. A lot. Wasn’t it fair that she be bothered a little herself? He knew he’d accomplished that objective by his unexpected appearance here, and he whistled a little as he read the paper.
When the doorbell rang he called, “I’ll get it,” and without waiting for an answer he strode over and opened the door.
“Hello, you must have found Madeline. I’ve come for my paper. Are you done with it?” Ariel inquired as she spotted it laid out on the coffee table.
Cruz gave an abashed shrug. “Sorry about that. I had to do battle with Madeline and I sort of forgot to bring it over.”
She waved aside his apology. “Forget it. I forgive you, especially if you’re going to interrupt her monotonous day and take her away from all this.”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
Ariel looked satisfied. “Good for you. It’s about time someone walked in and shook that woman up.” She eyed him approvingly. “You look like just the man for the job.”
Madeline walked into the room to overhear the last remark. “We’re going to work, Ariel. Sorry to disappoint you.”
Her neighbor raised her eyebrows. “Of course you are, Madeline, of course you are. And don’t worry.” Her eyes twinkled and cut back to Cruz, “I’m not disappointed. Not at all. Although I think your descriptive powers need a bit of work.”
Cruz observed the wicked note in Ariel’s tone and the almost desperate look on Madeline’s face as she strode to the front door. “I’ll talk to you later. We really have to go. Cruz is kind of in a hurry.”
“I am?” he muttered in surprise.
Ariel strolled by both of them and gathered up her newspaper before joining them at the door. “I can take a hint,” she informed them with a smile. “Far be it from me to interfere with two of Philadelphia’s finest doing their jobs. Never let it be said that I got in the way of… duty.” Her throaty laugh was full of innuendo, and Madeline gritted her teeth, while Cruz joined in the laughter. Honestly, Ariel was always irrepressible, but with Cruz around she was worse than usual. He encouraged her, just like now, his handsome face alight with amusement, as if Ariel had guessed correctly, and they had much more than the job on their minds. She was thankful when she got the two of them into the hall, and turned to lock the door.
“Call me when you get home, Madeline,” Ariel said. “Unless you’re otherwise occupied of course. And Cruz, take good care of your hair. You never know, you could be bald by the time you’re, oh, say fifty or so.” She went into her own apartment, chuckling to herself, and Madeline walked quickly to the elevator, staring fixedly at the closed door. She ignored Cruz’s puzzled expression and repeatedly stabbed her index finger at the button.
“She’s really got a thing about hair,” he observed, eyeing her closely. “She’s mentioned it both times I’ve seen her.”
Madeline shrugged and walked quickly into the elevator when its doors slid open. “She’s a hair stylist,” she offered weakly. “She talks about everyone’s hair.” Determinedly she changed the subject. “So, tell me. Where will we find Cantoney today?”
“Only one way to find out.” When they left the building he guided her to his car, which was parked illegally out front.
“You like to live dangerously.” It wasn’t the first time she knew of that he’d parked with such a disregard for city rules.
“Yeah, I live on the edge, all right,” he agreed dryly. If she thought ignoring parking laws was living dangerously, he had a lot he’d like to show her on the subject. Oh, yeah. Heat immediately flared in his belly. Somehow Madeline gave him the impression that she needed a little of the unexpected in her life. As hard as she tried to keep that calm pose and remain in control of every aspect of her life, he’d bet that beneath that unruffled exterior lay a woman with a fiery passion. He was curious about that woman, the one he suspected lived beneath the cool facade. He found himself wondering about her all the time. Or maybe fantasizing would be a more accurate word. It was much easier to picture the woman he thought she really was when she was dressed as she was today. She was wearing a pair of slim-fitting jeans, and if she was aware of what they did to showcase those long
legs, he knew she would never have worn them. She’d scraped her hair back again, into a fancy braid this time, and although regrettable, it was probably best. He didn’t need the distraction right now.
Madeline got into the low-slung automobile. She couldn’t help admiring the leather interior. Despite the possibilities of how Cruz had paid for this car, it was impossible not to appreciate its beauty.
“So, what do you think?” he asked as he got in and buckled his seat belt. “Buckle up, Madeline. Or do you need some help?” He reached up to the visor and pulled out a pair of darkly tinted sunglasses and put them on.
She obediently followed his command, loath to give him an excuse to lie half over her to help her with the belt. “What do I think of the car?” she clarified. “I think it’s my turn to drive today, isn’t it?”
At his look of horror, she had to laugh. “Don’t tell me that you’re one of those men who won’t let a woman drive his precious machine?”
“Don’t feel bad,” he said. “I don’t let anyone drive it.”
“Isn’t that a little ridiculous?” At his uncomprehending look, she added, “To become so attached to a car that you fear for its safety.”
“It isn’t ridiculous,” he denied swiftly. “I’m like a kid with a new toy. I don’t want to share it just yet. Although if you were to try your best to convince me to let you drive, I couldn’t stop you. If you were to tempt me with your womanly wiles, I just might succumb. I’m not always very strong.”
She didn’t allow herself to think of just how weak he might actually be. Or of what he might have done in order to afford the car. Her imagination was wildly careening in another direction. Of just specifically what it might take to convince Cruz, as he was suggesting.
She firmly pushed the thoughts away. “It doesn’t matter.” She shrugged lightly, looking out the window as he pulled onto the interstate. “I don’t feel like driving it, anyway.”
“Liar. Do you think I don’t know you’re dying to get your hands on my-” he caught her swift glance, and deliberately paused another moment before completing the sentence “-steering wheel?”
