by Jo Leigh
He’d found out that she’d put it on the internet a couple days later. By then it was too late to do a damn thing about it.
She’d dubbed him Ridiculously Good-Looking Cop, and posted it to the massive social media site Reddit. It had already gone viral by the time one of the cops at his old precinct had sent the picture and the caption to everyone in the department. Maybe not the chief of police, but he couldn’t be sure.
He’d been Ridiculous ever since. By all rights it should have died down by now, but no. He had no idea why he’d imagined setting up today’s bust would change anything. Normally he wasn’t that optimistic. Now he was pretty damn certain the nickname would end up on his tombstone.
Most of the time, he didn’t give a rat’s ass. He did the job to the best of his ability. The more he was promoted, the more the idiots would hate him. Tough. He’d have a career he could be proud of. It had never been a popularity contest.
“Detective Flynn.” The caller ID gave no name or number. He’d just finished for the night after two hours of paperwork, and he was starving and tired.
“So, are you a police detective, a private detective or a consulting detective?”
Her voice was sultry, and if he’d been at a bar he’d have known exactly what she wanted. But as a cold call? “Do I know you?”
“Not yet.”
Huh. “Maybe we should start with why you’re calling me. If this isn’t a wrong number.”
“Definitely not a wrong number. I’m Aubrey, and I’m the lucky girl who got your Hot Guys Trading Card.”
“My Hot Guys…” That couldn’t be right. Mary had sworn that only one other person had seen the card, and that person was the printer. Even if somehow something had gone wrong, and his cousin hadn’t destroyed it as he’d asked, she would have told him. Warned him. “Aubrey…?” He clicked on his pen and turned to a fresh page in his notebook.
“I’m not going to tell you my last name. That would be silly.”
“Why?”
She huffed at him. “Some detective you are. Because then you could look me up online and find out everything about me before we met, and not only would that be no fun at all, it could be dangerous. For all I know, you could have a secret identity as a deadly villain.”
“You have my full name. And more, if you’re holding the trading card.”
“True, but I’m harmless. Mostly harmless. Occasionally harmless.”
“You’re not instilling me with a lot of confidence,” he said, only slightly surprised that he was grinning. “Besides, I thought I was supposed to get a call from Mary before we began this little adventure.”
“I guess it must have slipped her mind. Happens to me all the time. But as a show of good faith I’ll give you some details. I’m twenty-four. I’m a design graduate from Pratt. Well, not an official graduate. I didn’t finish three classes, but in my defense they were completely boring and who has time for that kind of nonsense, right? Anyway, I’ve had a lousy day at work. I was thinking you and I could get to know each other over a drink at the Session House bar. Do you know it?”
She was certainly confident for a woman who was lying her ass off. He wondered if the smidgen of information she’d given him was even in the ballpark of the truth. Although why would a liar try to justify not getting a degree? What could possibly be her game? “Yep, although I’ve never been there.”
“Well, it’s a very public bar, although surprisingly quiet for Manhattan. You can actually have a conversation there. Without shouting.”
“I don’t believe you. Bars in the city are required to reach a minimum of eighty-five decibels or we yank their liquor licenses.”
“Ah, a sense of humor. Excellent. You should’ve put that on the card. Wait, we yank their licenses? You’re a policeman. That must be exciting.”
“It can be.”
“I’d love to hear all about it.”
Nothing was kosher about this call, or her invitation. Mary had convinced him to try the dating club, sure he’d meet someone nice and steady, but that had been right before the Macy’s parade and the last thing he needed after that fiasco was to be on a Hot Guys Trading Card. Mary had taken care of things. She wouldn’t have lied to him. She was his favorite cousin.
The only thing to do was meet Aubrey at the bar. If Ms. No-Last-Name was half as enticing as she sounded, it might make for a hell of an interesting night. Mostly, though, he needed to get his hands on that card.
“Well, Detective Flynn?”
“I’ll be there in half an hour. How will I know you?”
“I’ll find you, Detective. Trust me.”
Liam smirked. Trust her? Not a chance.
Chapter Two
After the billionth time, Aubrey swore to herself she wouldn’t look at the door again. She managed to keep that promise for a whole thirty seconds. And this time it paid off. Liam Flynn in the flesh, wearing a long coat, black, stylish yet designed for real weather. Not that it mattered. He could have been wearing a bunny suit because there was nowhere to look but his face. And—plot twist—turned out he wasn’t photogenic. It was as if the picture on the trading card was of the smart twin.
All her clever opening lines were swept away on a wave of lust. Just looking at him made her nipples tighten and her tummy flutter, and there was definitely something going on lower down that she refused to think about. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. She was pretty sure a muse wasn’t supposed to make her feel this way. If anything she should have been immune to that kind of instant want. When she’d first arrived in New York, she’d worked part-time at a modeling agency and been around tons of celebs. Looks alone were definitely not enough to capture her interest. But there was something about Liam. He was hers. Or he would be if she could get her act together.
Maybe this was a test. It shouldn’t matter that he was an eleven while she was a seven. No reason to chicken out now. The truth was she was the kind of person whose looks improved up close and personal. In conversation, she was usually fearless.
She could use some of that bravura right now. A couple of deep breaths did squat so she threw back the rest of her vodka. The burn woke something up. This man was the answer to her problems and she wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip through her fingers.
Womaning up, she slipped out of the booth, squared her shoulders and began the long walk across the small bar. Three steps in, he looked at her. Just a glance at first, but his gaze returned a second later.
He couldn’t possibly know who she was. And still, the stare continued. As omens went, that seemed excellent.
“Aubrey,” he said, the moment she was in hearing range. It wasn’t even a question.
“Very good, Detective,” she said, stunned that her voice wasn’t three octaves higher because at this distance he was stupidly handsome. “How did you know?”
“The way you were looking at me, you were either Aubrey or dangerous as hell.”
“Who says I can’t be both?”
He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to change his mind. Instead, he grinned.
“So, what are you drinking?” she asked.
“Shouldn’t we find a seat?” He nodded at one of the waitresses. “I might want something to eat.”
“I’ve got us a booth, but they’re short-handed tonight, so I’ll get our drinks. It’ll give you a chance to look at the menu. I can personally recommend the sliders. And by the way, this is my treat.”
His smile had gone a bit crooked. “I’ll have a Blue Moon in the bottle, thanks. And I’ll open it at the table.”
She mirrored his expression, glad that he hadn’t objected to her buying the round. And impressed he was being careful about his drink. She’d never gone out with a policeman before, and she’d assumed he’d want to be all macho. “We’re the fourth booth down, the one with the hat and purse on the seat.”
“You walked over here without your purse?”
“It’s underneath the hat.” Turning away, she kept her sh
oulders straight, her head high. She waited until she was leaning against the bar to exhale a half dozen breaths at once. Paulo, her favorite bartender, showed up and she had him put Liam’s beer and her double vodka rocks on her tab. Drinks in almost-steady hands, she started back to the booth, but didn’t get far.
Lily, a friend from Pratt, body blocked her. “Who is that?”
Aubrey smirked, but in a nice way. “He’s kinda cute, isn’t he?”
“Please. I’d stab my own brother to have a night with him.”
“I happen to know you dislike your brother intensely.”
“What’s your point?”
Aubrey stepped to the left. “Too bad he’s taken,” she said, and yeah, that sounded bitchy.
No one else interrupted, thankfully, so she slid into the booth across from the heart-stopping cop.
“Thanks,” he said as she handed him his drink, but before she’d settled in, he hit her with a very different kind of stare. “Where’d you really get the card?”
She wasn’t shocked. Well, maybe at the timing, but not the question. “Did you call Mary?”
“I left a message, but it didn’t matter. I knew you were lying.”
“I kind of figured, but hey, it worked because you’re here and I’m here…. Besides, this isn’t what it looks like.”
“It looks like you somehow got hold of something that doesn’t belong to you and lied to me about it.” He unscrewed the cap on his beer and took a sip.
“Okay, it is what it looks like, but there’s more to it.”
He took another drink, but his wryly cocked left eyebrow signaled some serious doubt.
“Let me explain.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, his voice dipping into a register that made her toes curl. Sadly, his earlier amusement had left the building. She had a feeling his grip was already on his handcuffs.
Hmm. Handcuffs.
Not the point. She sipped her vodka and faced him with all the innocent earnestness she could muster. “It fell out of the sky.”
His expression changed again, this time to confusion peppered liberally with suspicion.
“The card,” she said. “It actually drifted out of the sky.”
He finally nodded. Took another drink, then said, “Um, are you off your meds, Aubrey?”
She laughed. Which didn’t illuminate the situation at all. As a cop he’d had plenty of strange encounters, everything from getting spit on by a guy in a Sponge Bob costume to talking down a hysterical woman who was about to step in front of the M train. But Aubrey, with her dark mass of unruly curls, too-wide mouth and cherubic cheeks, was something new.
Maybe it was her confidence that had drawn him in, or her smile, or the way she gleefully challenged him with her gaze. But he’d felt the pull the moment their eyes met. Weird how he’d known she was the one who had his card. Even weirder that he’d actually hoped it was her despite how obvious it was that she was nuts. But then he’d watched her walk to the bar in those towering red heels and tight black dress that was inches away from becoming a public indecency violation. He’d swallowed hard at her very womanly hips and a pair of shapely legs that he could all too easily imagine wrapped around his waist.
Admittedly, it had been a while for him, but he’d had more opportunities than most to take care of business if he’d just wanted to get laid. Sex had never been a problem. He was grateful for that, absolutely. But now that he was approaching thirty, he was trying to avoid letting his dick call the shots.
It wasn’t only his dick that found Aubrey intriguing, however.
“Look, I was at work,” she said, leaning toward him, her deep purple fingernails clicking on her shot glass. “I’m doing this Christmas window display for a lingerie store. It’s a major deal because I’m a nobody and you know what happens with Christmas windows in this city. For God’s sake, did you know that the window at Lord & Taylor is on a hydraulic lift so the whole thing can be moved to the basement? That the big players like Macy’s and Barney’s can spend over a million dollars on their displays?
“Anyway, my boss is kind of the Tina Brown of lingerie and the store was supposed to have opened ages ago, but there were all sorts of delays, so it didn’t open until October, but she needs the store to kill at Christmas, so I’m supposed to debut the window live on Christmas Eve Eve in front of reporters and bloggers from the New York Times to PopSugar…pretty much everyone who’s anyone, so you can imagine the pressure, right?”
Her hand slid across the table to land on his, which gave him a jolt that went straight to his cock. He nodded, although he’d barely understood half of what she’d said.
“I’ve done a hundred or more sketches and I’ve got nothing. Seriously, nothing. Nada. Zippo. And it’s almost three weeks until Christmas! There aren’t words to describe how freaked out I am.”
She paused, but only to knock back more of her drink. After squishing her face up into an award-winning wince, she took a deep breath and dove back in, her hand still on his.
“So tonight I walk outside, and this freaky wind almost blows my hat across the street. That’s when I see it. I had no idea what it was or where it came from until it fell, I bullshit you not, into my hand. No exaggeration. Literally into my hand.”
She held up said hand as a visual aid. He let out a surprisingly big breath as he pulled his own to his lap. “My trading card,” he said.
Pointing her finger at him as if she’d unequivocally made her case, she said, “Exactly. That doesn’t just happen.” She leaned back against the booth, her deep scarlet lips set in a firm line while her eyes danced.
Danced? He’d never had a thought like that before in his life. He grabbed his beer, somehow knowing things were only going to get worse.
“Okay, so, what I haven’t told you is the name of the store where I work.”
That was evidently his cue. “No. No you haven’t.”
She grinned, and leaned in again. “Le Muse,” she said, going full French accent on him. The way her eyebrows rose and her sly grin indicated that the name was significant. He had no idea why. “Uh-huh.”
“Le Muse, Liam. Le Muse.”
“Sorry, I don’t follow.”
Her clear frustration made him feel as if he should apologize.
“You. It’s you. You came down from God knows where and landed in my lap. Detective Flynn, you’re meant to be my personal muse.”
It took a minute to digest her completely insane idea. Then he had to go through it again, just to make sure he wasn’t hearing things. But no. She thought he was a mythical Greek goddess.
Definitely off her meds.
“Maybe I should take a look at the card,” he said. “Just to, you know, get a grasp on this.”
“Oh, sweetie. No can do. Not yet.”
“No? Why the hell—”
The waitress’s timing could not have been worse. “Sorry for the delay, but we’re short-staffed tonight.” She had her pen poised at the ready. “What can I get you guys?”
Liam had been starving when he’d gotten there, but Aubrey’d knocked the hunger straight out of him. All he could do was stare.
“I thought you wanted to eat,” she said.
He opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Aubrey said, “I’ll have the fried chicken sliders and another round, please.” She smiled his way and said, “You’re welcome to share.”
“What about you, gorgeous?” the waitress asked.
Huh. The way she looked at him, as if he were on the menu, made him realize he’d expected the same from Aubrey. But his looks didn’t seem to matter to her bewildering scheme. “That mac and cheese sounds good.”
“You got it. Aubrey, on your tab?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Uh,” he said, but it was too late. They were alone again. “You don’t have to pay for my food. Or another beer.”
“Yes, I do. I asked you here because—”
He held up a hand, not willing to be sid
etracked again. “I believe you were going to tell me why you don’t want me to see the card?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, shaking her head as if the explanation wouldn’t have been necessary if only he’d been paying attention. “I’m assuming you know what a muse is.”
“Yes. How they relate to me in any way isn’t clear, however.”
“From the sky, Liam. Dropped from nowhere. Anyway, what a muse does is inspire creativity. That’s exactly what my problem’s been. Why I can’t come up with a great idea for the window. You fall into my hand like a gift, and in seconds I can feel my juices getting all stirred up.”
His reaction to that last comment wasn’t good. Not good at all.
“I knew it was destiny. The Fates, you know? There’s no law that says a muse has to be a woman. I mean, come on. That would be crazy.”
“Yeah. That part would be crazy.”
She didn’t actually say, “Obviously,” but she managed to get the point across.
“Not to put a damper on things, but I don’t think this whole muse business is up my alley. And you still haven’t answered my question.”
It was as if he’d taken away her favorite kitten. “You do realize my entire future is at stake. If I blow this window, I’ll never get another chance like it. My boss is one of the most connected people in the world. She could literally ruin me. Forever.”
“I don’t think—”
“Listen, you don’t understand. I can’t have you distracted by other dates, at least not for now. But don’t worry, this isn’t a long-term proposal. It’s just until Christmas Eve Eve. And it’s not even that hard. I mean, all I really need from you is lots and lots of sex.”
His next words vanished from his mind. As did most of his working brain cells. “What’s that you say?”
Chapter Three
She hadn’t planned out exactly how she would ask Liam for a one-night stand, but telling him she wanted “lots and lots of sex” might have been taking it a step too far. Although his rapid blinking and open mouth could also suggest a nail hit directly on the head. Or an imminent solicitation charge.
