by Tessa Bailey
Troy studied her as she moved with easy grace down the street, navigating through the crowds of people and traffic signals as if she could do it blind.
She cupped her hands and raised them to her mouth to blow warm air inside, then rubbed them together vigorously to ward off the cold. Acting on impulse, he reached over and took her hands. He brought them to his mouth and huffed warm air onto her fingers, then pressed them flat between his bigger hands to heat them. Ruby observed his actions warily. “It’s only one more block.”
He nodded. “So, tell me. What is it with New Yorkers and their smug superiority about pizza?”
“Hmm. Besides the fact that it’s totally justified?”
The light turned green, and she quickly pulled her hand away to cross the street. “Besides, aren’t you Chicago folk equally narcissistic about your deep-dish pizza?”
“We prefer the term outspokenly confident,” he quipped. “And what’s not to like about deep dish? It’s just more of the good stuff.”
“There’s no subtlety. You should always leave them wanting more.”
“I can’t relate to that,” he said drily, slanting a look in her direction.
She ducked her head and laughed. “I thought you said your mother is a chef. She looks like she can make a good sauce. Did she ever make you pizza?”
It took him a second to remember that she’d seen the picture of his parents while going through his wallet at O’Hanlon’s. “How does someone look like they make good sauce?”
“You know…” Ruby shrugged. “She’s bosomy.”
“Bosomy?”
She made a noise of agreement. “Women who make good sauce are almost always generous upstairs. It’s like a rule or something. Ask anyone.”
“You thought it was a good idea to bring up my mother’s bosoms before we ate?”
They reached the pizza shop, and she waited while he opened the door for her. “I’m right, aren’t I? How is her sauce?”
He answered without hesitation. “The best in Chicago.”
She slipped past him into the shop, not even bothering to hide her triumphant smile. Troy looked around at the small establishment boasting a glass counter displaying several types of pies. Behind it, a handful of workers slid pizzas in and out of an enormous stainless-steel oven. Farther down toward the back, a dozen orange, plastic booths were half occupied with a variety of people. Businessmen in suits, high school kids, even a priest. From an unseen speaker, mariachi music blared, blending all the noise together.
“Speaking of my bosomy mother, she would give me hell if she knew I’d brought a girl out for a slice of pizza on a first date.”
“Ah, but it’s our second date,” she corrected him.
He leaned in next to her ear to inhale her scent.
“No. Friday night was more like a fourth date. We sort of skipped the first three and got right to the best part, didn’t we?”
“You could say that.” She leaned in toward his mouth, and he barely resisted taking her earlobe between his teeth and tugging. “Does that mean we’re going to wait three dates before we get back to the best part?”
“No, baby. It doesn’t,” he murmured, satisfied when Ruby shivered in response.
When they reached the front of the line, Ruby placed her order for a cheese slice to the aproned man behind the counter, then looked at Troy expectantly for his order, a heightened awareness of him clear in her expression.
“You choose. When I tell you it tastes like plain old pizza, I’m not going to listen to you complain that I must have chosen the wrong slice.”
“He’s just touchy because we were talking about his mom’s bosoms,” she said with a conspiratorial wink at the man in the apron. “He’ll have a cheese slice, too, please. Followed by a slice of humble pie.”
“As long as it’s deep dish.”
“Quiet. You’re going to offend the pizza gods.”
Troy grinned. As he paid for their meal, it occurred to him that he was actually enjoying himself. And how long had it been since he could truly say that?
…
Ruby watched from across the table as Troy took his first bite of pizza. Somehow he managed to make the mundane look sensual, sinking his teeth in for a bite, ripping it off, and chewing slowly as the muscles in his throat and jaw worked. Her own slice sat forgotten on a greasy paper plate in front of her, getting colder by the second. She ran her damp palms up the thighs of her jeans and leaned forward for a sip of Sprite without taking her eyes off him.
“Well? What do you think?”
He leaned back in the creaking booth and considered her. “All right, you win. This is the Holy Grail of pizza. The sauce…”
Ruby tilted her head and smiled. “Is it better than your mother’s?”
Troy gestured at her with a napkin. “You will never get me to say that out loud.”
Eyebrows raised, she looked around the shop.
“How would she know?”
“I have no idea, but she would. Trust me. It would be like a pizza-shaped bat signal flashing over my parents’ house.”
“You better stay quiet then,” she said with mock-seriousness. “What kind of signal would flash if she knew you were out with a girl you met hustling in a bar?”
Shrugging, he took a sip out of her drink, and
Ruby’s stomach clenched at the intimacy of that.
“Honestly? She’d probably just want to know if you were Italian.”
She pinched her fingers together. “A little bit.
Enough to appreciate her sauce.” Outwardly, she cringed at her impulsive comment. “Oh, God. I didn’t mean that to sound weird. I’m not planning on trying your mother’s sauce or anything.” Sighing dramatically, she squeezed her eyes closed. “When I open my eyes, if you’re gone, I won’t hold it against you.”
When she peeked open one eyelid, he sat smirking at her from across the table. After a second, he leaned forward and picked up her hand. With his thumb, he massaged small circles into her palm, and Ruby could feel the tiny movement everywhere on her body. “If my mother were here, she would say you’re too skinny to leave that whole slice of pizza sitting in front of you on the table.”
She swallowed with difficulty. “Maybe I’m not hungry anymore.”
“You need to eat.” His gaze dropped to her mouth.
“You might not get another chance for a while, so take advantage now.”
Ruby’s senses fired, her body practically liquefying in the hard, plastic seat. Underneath the table, she teased his pant leg with her foot. “Take advantage of the pizza now so you can take advantage of me later?”
His lips twitched. “Are you playing footsie with me?”
Next to them, the priest cleared his throat loudly before exiting his booth and tossing his garbage in the trash with a righteous sniff in their direction.
They both ducked their heads and laughed. Biting her lip, Ruby edged her foot slightly higher, rubbing the inside of his knee. “Is footsie not cool anymore? I didn’t get the memo.”
“Oh, it’s feeling pretty cool right about now.” His expression heated. “Any way I can convince you to take that pizza to go?”
Every pulse point in her body beat loud and fast.
“So impatient.”
“I did warn you.”
His voice had dropped significantly, its rough quality stroking her skin. Suddenly, she regretted walking so far from his car to get pizza. She wanted to be alone with him now, in a private place where he could give her what she needed. On Friday night, he’d driven her past the point of reason, demanded incredible responses from her body, made her say things that she’d been blushing about ever since. Now, she wanted it again. She wanted Troy to bring her home and… take her.
“You’re not the only one who’s been impatient.”
Her ankle brushed against his fly. Across from her, he tensed, as if fully prepared to drag her bodily across the tabl
e. “Get me home quick, Troy. Before we make a scene.”
Chapter Seven
Troy barely remembered the walk back to the car or subsequent ride home after the pizza shop. Could hardly focus on anything other than the girl in the seat next to him. Crossing and uncrossing her legs.
Wetting her lips. Looking up at him under heavy black lashes with such undisguised need on her face that he felt burned by the heat of it. He couldn’t deny a feeling of triumph. She hadn’t made finding her as easy as he’d thought it would be. When he’d called the Baruch registrar’s office, they’d provided him a copy of her class schedule, but he’d been forced to wait for Monday and her first class of the week.
His displeasure over having to wait for three days made him edgy. Restless. Eager. And yet, some primal part of him relished the chase. Appreciated it, even.
She’d run. He’d gone in pursuit, found her, and now he was bringing her home to take his reward. Adrenaline, mixed with sharp arousal, surged through him, making him crazy to touch her. See her naked. Make her moan.
What would that first sweet shove inside her be like?
Would she spread her legs or wrap them around him tight? How many times could he get her to scream his name?
Hands tight on the steering wheel, he tried to dampen the fire, just long enough to get her out of the car, up the elevator, and inside his apartment. It didn’t work. The insistent throb in his pants made him grit his teeth. Even through the haze of lust, he recognized how unusual it was for him to feel this kind of urgency. He had a healthy sexual appetite that he indulged when his work allowed it. What he couldn’t comprehend was his appetite for Ruby. Only Ruby. If any other girl had walked out on him like she’d done Saturday morning, he would’ve forgotten about it by the time he hit the shower. With her, however, he felt a constant, physical craving. It should alarm him, but he couldn’t see past his need long enough to care or examine it further.
They pulled up outside his building, and he parked his unmarked vehicle in the closest spot he could find, about two blocks away. One thing he’d learned about Manhattan since moving here a little over a week ago?
Parking was a bitch. Especially when the girl walking at your side along the sidewalk looked like she wanted to climb you like a tree. Troy yanked open the door leading to the building’s lobby and pulled her inside by the hand. He punched the button for the elevator and released a tension-filled breath when the doors rolled open immediately.
As soon as the doors closed in the empty elevator, she ran her palms up underneath his jacket and scraped her nails back down, over his nipples and navel. His cock swelled so huge that it threatened to break through the zipper of his dress pants. Roughly, he took her hands and placed them over his erection, molding her fingers into a tight grip around it. Her eyelids drooped slightly, and she bit her lip.
“It’s been ready for you since Saturday morning.
It’s going to take me hours of fucking that tight little body of yours to satisfy it. I hope you know what you’re in for.”
She looked up at him, bold and determined. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
He growled, equally exhilarated and annoyed by the way she insisted on pushing him back. “I’m going to put you on your knees, Ruby. You’re going to hate how much you love it.”
The doors of the elevator opened, and he led her out. When they entered his apartment, he pulled her toward the bedroom, determined to have her in his bed where he’d lain awake, mentally pleasuring her for countless hours over the weekend. She followed behind him just as quickly. Then suddenly her hand tore from his, and she came to a dead stop. Confused, he turned to find her staring down at an open work file on his kitchen table, a glossy eight-by-ten photograph lying on top of several paper documents. He’d been reading through it before he left to go find her at school and forgotten to put it away. Something in her expression as she stared down at the photo sent a shot of dread through him. “What is it?”
When she answered, her voice sounded strangled.
“Why do you have this man’s picture here?”
He moved forward and gathered up the file. “It’s a case I’m working on.”
“Is that why I’m here?” She laughed without a trace of humor. “Oh my God, you’re using me.”
Her words sent alarm bells ringing in his head.
“Ruby, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Now I know why you worked so hard to find me.
I must have been like a present falling into your lap when I walked into O’Hanlon’s.” Her voice shook as she turned toward the door. “God, is there one person in this city who doesn’t need me to do their dirty work?”
Troy caught up with her before her fingers even touched the knob. He brought his hands up to circle her upper arms, holding her against his chest. She seemed too stunned over her false realization to struggle. A pit formed in his stomach. He didn’t know what her words meant, but he needed to get to the bottom of them immediately. Take that look of betrayal off her face.
“Listen to me,” he said against the top of her head. “I brought you here because I badly need to be with you, no other reason. Tell me what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t believe you. I can’t believe I fell for this.
Do you know what kind of shitstorm you just landed me in?”
His anxiety spiked. “Fell for what, dammit? Explain.”
She spun around and pointed at the file. “That man. Lenny Driscol. Don’t tell me you don’t know about his connection to me. Were you going to send me in with a wire or something? I’ll never do it.”
Troy fell back a step as her words landed on him like a ton of bricks. Nowhere in the database or in any of the casework he’d done had he uncovered a connection to Ruby. Lenny Driscol had his hand in the underground gambling world, but his customers were ex-convicts, local mafia. He’d never once thought Ruby’s penchant for pool hustling placed her anywhere in his vicinity.
“Jesus. I didn’t know.” Hands on his hips, he paced away, then came right back. She still looked about two seconds from making a break for it, and he didn’t want to give her room to escape. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that man is? You think I would risk sending you anywhere near him with a wire? Ruby, I don’t even like the fact that he knows your name.”
Something else she’d said echoed through his brain.
“What do you mean I’ve landed you in a shitstorm?”
“As if you don’t know,” she scoffed. “I have to hand it to you, detective. You were extremely convincing, even if sleeping with a possible informant might be considered unethical by police standards. You give a new meaning to the phrase ‘dirty cop.’”
He’d had enough. Resting his arms on either side of her on the door, he leaned in close. “What shitstorm? I’m not going to ask again.”
She got right in his face. “The boy I was with when you picked me up from school, Bowen, is that man’s son. Bowen Driscol. Our fathers grew up together, and so did we. Lenny used to arrange cash games for me and my father. I used to work for him.”
Anxiety, powerful and swift, settled over Troy.
With a curse, he pushed off the door, away from her.
She narrowed her eyes as if his reaction surprised her, but Troy barely processed it. The repercussions of what he’d done drilled into his skull. She didn’t know it yet, but she was in far worse danger than she realized. And he’d unknowingly put her there. Without warning, scenes from the night Grant died played through his mind, reminding him of another time he’d put someone important to him in danger. He’d sworn it would never happen again, yet here he sat months later with the safety of another person on his head. His lieutenant had tasked him with putting Driscol behind bars, and today, in front of the man’s son, he’d associated himself with Ruby.
“He had a hat on. That must be why I didn’t recognize the son from Driscol’s file.” He sat heavily on a dining room chair,
feeling blinded, his ears hearing only gun shots. “I need you to stay somewhere safe until this blows over.”
“You’re out of your mind.” She laughed. “No one tells me where to go.”
Troy shook his head. “You don’t understand. Over the weekend, I canvased his neighborhood, questioning his associates about his location. They all know what I look like. Now his son has seen me with you. They’ll put two and two together and think you’re working with me.” He looked up at her. Her eyes clouded over as she absorbed that piece of information. “You are in danger, and I’m going to protect you whether you like it or not.”
After a moment, in which she assessed him so closely that he felt stripped bare, she said, “You really had no idea.”
“God, no.” He stood, hating himself, the situation, and what he was about to say. “And if you’re not already convinced, I’m about to get you as far away from me as possible.”
…
Ruby watched as Troy scrolled through the contacts on his phone, presumably searching for someone who would come and stash her away for her own safety. She would never in a million years let him make a call that would threaten her freedom, but she took a moment to study him before she put an end to it. His face had gone pale, and he held the cell phone in a white-knuckled death grip. If he was acting, look out DeNiro, because they had a new Oscar-winner among them.
Was it possible that his involvement with her was a coincidence? She’d never believed in them before, but his reaction negated her logic.
Damn but she really wanted to believe him. For one, just to reassure herself she hadn’t lost her edge, letting a cop pull a fast one on her. Two, because the overwhelming attraction she felt for him hadn’t dimmed for even a second when she’d thought he was using her. She considered those feelings twice as dangerous as anything Lenny would do to her. For a few minutes there, before she’d watched his face transform with dread, she’d been hurt. A deep, twisty, achy kind of hurt that she didn’t recognize. And it sucked.
