An Irresistible Man

by Kylie Brant

  His look was reproachful. “You should have felt very guilty. My blood pressure was at a dangerous level by the time you screeched to a stop out front yesterday.” But it hadn’t been as high as it had risen in the minute he’d spent beside her on the bed. Sixty seconds was such a short time, but it had been long enough for him to imagine stretching out beside her. To think about awakening her in the slowest, sweetest way possible. To pull her beneath him, and… He reined in the erotic thoughts firmly.

  “Let’s hear about this fantastic idea of yours. And it had better be good.” They rose to go.

  “All my ideas are good,” he answered smugly as he followed her out of the apartment. “And this one is excellent.”

  Madeline looked about curiously when they pulled to a stop in front of a small brick home. It was located on a street with others just like it; the houses were rather close together, and some were a little run-down. But the one they approached as they went up the walk appeared well tended. The lawn was neatly mowed and the trim looked freshly painted.

  “I’m not going one more step unless you tell me what we’re doing here,” she said, stopping in the middle of the walk. He had steadfastly refused to answer all her questions on the trip over, choosing instead to comment on what he’d thought of her sleeping attire. The banter hadn’t done her temper a bit of good, and even knowing he was getting even with her for the bet she’d won yesterday didn’t improve her mood. “I can’t believe we’re going to find evidence of a gun supplier in this neighborhood.”

  “Why not?” he countered. “This place isn’t nearly as nice as where we found Cantoney yesterday.” He managed to guide her up the steps of the porch, and raised a finger to his lips to hush her when her mouth opened again. “Be ready for anything, Madeline, and I do mean anything. I’m going to need you to back me up.” He reached out to pound on the door, shouting, “Police! Open up.”

  Her eyes widened. Of all the stupid, dangerous things to do! Wait until they got out of this! How could he let her walk into a situation without briefing her beforehand? The door flew open and Cruz strode through it, Madeline closely following him. Both of them were unarmed. If they got out of this alive, she was really, really going to kill him this time!

  “Hey, look! It’s the big, bad police detective,” someone said in the next room.

  “Come here, Mr. Detective, and give me a kiss,” a woman’s voice called.

  Cruz stopped suddenly in the hallway and Madeline ran into his back. Her confused brain took a few instants to recognize just what kind of situation he had led her into. “Martinez!” she hissed. “This is your parents’ home!”

  He slanted a grin at her. “You’re very astute, Madeline. That’s what I admire most about you. That and your legs.” He didn’t allow her to respond before grabbing her hand and pulling her along with him into the kitchen.

  She stood awkwardly aside as Cruz was hugged by someone she assumed was his mother. She felt even more ill at ease when the woman released him and drew back to study Madeline.

  Cruz bore little physical resemblance to Mrs. Martinez. They both had dark hair, but she was a brunette several shades lighter than he. Visible threads of gray traced through her hair, which she wore in short waves around her face. Her eyes were a shocking shade of blue, and she came up only to her son’s broad shoulders.

  “This is Madeline Casey, Mom, the partner I was telling you about.” He lowered his voice to an undertone meant to be overheard. “I had to kidnap her. The only way to get her out of her apartment was to pretend we would be working today. She thinks she’s here to arrest a dangerous criminal.”

  His mother tapped him on the chest. “Cruz, you are so bad,” she scolded him. And then she smiled at Madeline, and revealed all the charm that her son must have inherited from her. “Welcome, Madeline. I apologize for my son. You have all my sympathy, having to work with him all day. Me, I can’t stand to have him around for more than an hour or two. Such a tease.”

  “Mom,” he complained in an aggrieved tone, reaching past her to snatch a cookie from the counter. “You’ll ruin her image of me. Madeline thinks I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread.”

  “You’re a little confused,” Madeline informed him saccharinely. “Although I’d like to see you sliced like bread.”

  “It’s my fault,” his mother said apologetically. “He’s been so busy lately, and I told him to bring you by. I thought he had the manners to issue an invitation, but obviously I was wrong. Stay and enjoy yourself anyway,” she urged. “I could easily be persuaded to show you some very embarrassing pictures of him when he was a child.”

  “You’ve got a deal.” Madeline smiled, in spite of her desire to do Cruz some serious physical damage.

  “Don’t show her the one of me naked on the rug,” Cruz advised his mother as he took Madeline’s arm and guided her into the next room. “I have to work with her. I want her to still respect me, not to be constantly undressing me with her eyes.”

  The room they entered next was packed with people, some sitting, others standing, and still others sprawled on the floor. Children were running shrieking through the room and out into the hallway. The television was on, but no one appeared to be watching it. It seemed to Madeline as if twenty different conversations halted when they entered.

  The silence seemed to stretch interminably, but probably lasted only a few seconds. Then the voices started again at once.

  “Cruz! Glad you made it. There’s something I need to talk to you about…” A young, handsome man in his early twenties stepped forward.

  “Unca Cwuz! Unca Cwuz! See what I can do! Watch me, Unca Cwuz!” A chubby toddler with dimples did a lumbersome somersault, landing neatly on Cruz’s toes.

  “Big brother! Give me a hug!” This from the young woman Madeline remembered seeing on the street the second day she’d worked with Cruz.

  “You owe me ten from that bet last week, buddy. When are you going to learn never to bet against the Phillies?” called one of the men sitting near the TV.

  Cruz was engulfed by his relatives, all anxious to greet him. He kissed the women, clapped the men on the shoulders and swung the children in the air. Finally he reached down for the acrobatic toddler still lying across his boots. As he situated the little boy on his hip, the toddler frowned and pointed a chubby finger at Madeline.

  “Unca Cwuz, who’s dat?”

  It seemed to Madeline as if every eye in the room was trained on her, and she experienced a fierce desire to be somewhere, anywhere else in the world.

  “This,” Cruz said, drawing Madeline toward him and then turning her gently toward the group, “is my partner, Madeline Casey.” He proceeded to introduce each of his brothers, sisters, in-laws, nieces and nephews one by one. He said solemnly to the nephew in his arms, “Madeline wanted to learn to be a great detective, so she’s working with me for a while.”

  Hoots and catcalls met his pronouncement.

  “She could probably learn something from you, all right,” Sean chided with a laugh.

  “When I ran into them on the street a couple of weeks ago, it looked as though Madeline was teaching Cruz something!” his sister Maureen told the family.

  Madeline froze, waiting for her to reveal how engrossed they’d seemed in each other. But the girl went blithely on, “She got Cruz to eat a hot dog, can you believe it?”

  “No way!”

  “I wish I could have seen that!”

  “Miracle worker,” Cruz’s younger brother Miguel intoned, kneeling before Madeline clownishly. “Please tell his humble family how you managed a feat of such magnificent proportions.”

  Cruz hauled Miguel up by his shirt. “Very funny. It will please you all greatly to learn that Madeline knows the location of every grease grill in the city, and she won’t rest until she drags me to all of them.”

  “Good woman!”

  “Way to go!”

  “About time you found someone you can’t twist around your little finger,” his
mother put in from the other room. “Go see your father. He should be on the patio burning the meat.”

  Cruz indicated for Madeline to precede him, and, taking her elbow, he guided her through the house to the back door.

  When they were out of earshot of the others, Madeline whispered, “I am absolutely not going to stay for dinner, Martinez. The joke’s over. Take me home.”

  “What? And disappoint my parents? They’ve been after me to bring you over here to meet them. What are they going to think if you go running screaming in the opposite direction?”

  “They’ll probably think, ‘There goes another person that Cruz has driven crazy!’” Madeline replied fiercely. “And they’d be right. I cannot believe you tricked me like this! You knew I assumed that you had an idea about the case.”

  “Ah, but you should never assume anything,” Cruz counseled her wisely. “That’s the first rule of police work.”

  Only the presence of his father on the patio stopped Madeline from giving Cruz a hard push out the doorway. As it was, she contented herself with an inconspicuous jab to his ribs as she passed through the door he held for her.

  The twinkle in the elder Martinez’s eye as he straightened from bending over the grill told Madeline that he’d witnessed her rebellion. “Madeline, Tomas Martinez. Pop, this is my partner, Madeline Casey.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Madeline,” Tomas said. “I hope working with my son hasn’t been too trying.”

  It was easy to see where Cruz had gotten his striking good looks. Tomas Martinez was still a very attractive man. His face wasn’t as lean as Cruz’s, and he was thicker through the chest and shoulders. He must have been close to sixty in order to have children the ages of his, but he didn’t appear that old.

  Madeline could feel her usual reserve with strangers thaw a bit. “I can handle your son.”

  “You can? Then maybe you could give pointers to his mother and me. We could use some tips.” He shook his head with mock solemnity.

  “Yes, Madeline, do tell,” Cruz invited wickedly. “What’s your secret?”

  She matched him look for look. “Never let him get the upper hand,” she said in an aside to his father. “He becomes unbearable in a hurry.”

  “You noticed that, too?” his father asked interestedly.

  “How are you coming with that meat, Pop?” Cruz interrupted them to inquire. He stepped over and lifted the lid off the grill. “It looks about done to me.”

  His father shooed him away. “Leave me alone. Never interrupt a master at work.”

  “Mom!” Cruz shouted through the door. “Pop’s going to burn the meat again.”

  “Don’t you let him! Why do you suppose I sent you out there? You need to supervise him.”

  “Stop hanging over my shoulder,” his father retorted. “Why haven’t you offered your guest something to drink? Where are your manners?”

  “Oh, I can’t stay,” Madeline protested.

  “Of course you can.”

  “Sure you’re staying,” Cruz added. “How else would you get home?”

  The look she aimed at him promised retribution. “I really hadn’t planned to be gone long.”

  “And I know how important planning is to you. What would you like to drink, Madeline? A beer? Soda?”

  Seeing no other way out of the situation, Madeline gave in with as much grace as possible. After all, it wouldn’t do to make a scene in front of his family. It wasn’t Cruz’s parents’ fault that their son was the most maddening, manipulating man she’d ever met. She would deal with him later. He wouldn’t be allowed to continue walking in and out of her personal life at will.

  Cruz went to the kitchen, leaving her alone with his father. Tomas immediately engaged her in conversation. “Cruz tells us that you recently transferred to the Southwest District.”

  She immediately grew tense. Never in her worst nightmare would she have dreamed she’d have to make polite conversation with the father of a man she was investigating.

  “I’ve been with the department for ten years.”

  “And already you’re a Detective Sergeant. That’s quite an accomplishment at your age. I know how hard Cruz worked for that rank.”

  Madeline was nonplussed. There was no mistaking the admiration in the man’s tone. It struck her as incongruous that a man she’d just met displayed more respect for her career advancement than her own father ever had. Of course, she could be named chief and she doubted it would win her Geoffrey Casey’s respect. He’d always disapproved of her job-and, she feared, of her. She’d long ago given up the hope of ever doing anything that would elicit the amount of respect from him that she’d just received from Tomas.

  “We were surprised when we learned Cruz would take the test for sergeant,” the man went on. “He’d never seemed interested before. At one time we thought he would stay in undercover work forever. His mother was greatly relieved when he went back to plainclothes detail. She worried about him constantly.”

  “And his father?” Madeline dared to ask softly.

  The dark eyes so like Cruz’s caught hers. “I worried, too,” he admitted. “A man’s family is the most precious thing in the world to him. Police work is always dangerous, and when Cruz was shot, we were afraid we would lose him.”

  Cruz rejoined them then, and handed Madeline a diet soda. Tomas opened the grill and inspected the roast again. “I think it’s ready. Cruz, hand me the platter.”

  As he obeyed, Cruz peered over his father’s shoulder. “I think it was ready twenty minutes ago. You burned the edges again.”

  “Everyone’s a critic,” Tomas grumbled good-naturedly. “I like my roast that way.”

  When they went inside, the family was milling around the dining room, seating the youngsters at card tables and the adults at the dining table. His sisters were still bustling back and forth from the kitchen, helping Mrs. Martinez carry in the food.

  When all were finally sitting down and grace was said, the din began anew. Plates and bowls were passed, accompanied by several noisy conversations. The atmosphere was as alien to her memories of family meals as it was possible to be. Mr. and Mrs. Martinez were in the midst of it all, praising, admonishing and joking with their family. Yet Madeline was not given time to feel out of place. She was kept busy passing dishes and answering questions thrown her way. Cruz was seated next to her, and it was several minutes before she caught him placing more vegetables on her plate.

  He grinned when he was found out, unrepentant. “Madeline loves green vegetables. She can’t get enough of them.” He spooned another large helping of broccoli onto her dish. “Go ahead,” he invited. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  “Someone should have taken you in hand a long time ago,” she informed him narrowly. “You’re too funny for your own good.”

  “Go ahead and try,” Cruz’s sister Shannon invited her. “He was barely tolerable when we were kids and we could gang up on him. Now that he’s bigger and taller than anyone else in the family, it’s a little harder.”

  “There is one way to keep him in line,” Madeline said slowly, her eyes sparkling with remembrance. “He was almost meek while I was driving his-”

  “More milk, Madeline?” he interrupted her quickly.

  But his sister gasped. “He let you drive his car?”

  It seemed to Cruz that his sister’s voice pierced through every other bit of noise in the room. An uproar ensued.

  “Hey, no fair. When I asked, you said no one drove it but you.”

  “Can I use it to take Lisa out next weekend, Cruz?”

  “What’s this? You haven’t even let me drive it!” This from his father.

  Cruz raised his hands for silence. “Time out! The only reason she drove it was because I lost a bet. Believe me, I died a thousand deaths watching her abuse it.”

  Madeline continued to eat sedately. “He’s a sore loser, too,” she informed the family, and they laughed. And there was no more discomfort after that. I
t seemed odd to her later when she thought about it. Nothing in her experience had prepared her for the Martinezes. Their noisy discussions, laughter and teasing were full of mutual love and concern for each other. She wanted to sit back and observe it, but she quickly learned that wasn’t allowed in this house. Everyone at the table was pulled into conversations, and her opinion was sought more than once when one of Cruz’s siblings was arguing with him.

  Comparisons between this family and her own were ludicrous. There were simply no similarities to be found. Kathleen Martinez exhibited the same twinkle in her eye and the same penchant for teasing that could be seen in Cruz. Tomas was unabashedly proud of his family. Grandchildren crawled all over their aunts, uncles and grandparents, to the obvious enjoyment of the adults. Madeline wasn’t used to being asked frank questions about herself by people she’d just met. But it was impossible to remain unaffected by the lighthearted atmosphere. She found herself just as curious about them.

  Cruz watched Madeline relate to his family with a faint smile. This had turned out better than he’d expected. His family had accepted her as readily as they would any guest brought home. He’d had no qualms about that. It was her reaction to them that he’d wondered about, but he needn’t have worried. She seemed perfectly at ease, and, although he’d had to step in once or twice to head off a particularly nosy question from one of his siblings, Madeline was, overall, holding her own. Watching her here, talking to his family, proved fascinating. That cool reserve that was so much a part of her was still present. But he thought that right now it was more relaxed than usual. He observed as Maureen involved Madeline in a discussion on the horrors of naturally curly hair, and Shannon asked her opinion about the latest political news.

  Madeline rose at the end of the meal and prepared to help clear the table. The women stopped her.

  “Forget it, Madeline. On Sundays in this house, dishes are the men’s job.”

  She raised her eyebrows as she watched Cruz and his brothers start gathering plates with a tremendous clatter. “Well, that’s certainly an enlightened idea.”