by Jo Leigh
Instead of answering his question, she moved her right foot until it bumped against his shoe. Slipping off her heel, she shimmied up his pant leg until she found skin. One quick rub with her big toe made him blush. And stammer. But he didn’t move away. That took getting arrested off the table.
“Look, Aubrey…”
Feeling much more in control of the situation, she relaxed against the backrest and waited. She liked him flustered. She’d put that right at the top of her list of Fun Things to Do with Muses.
His jaw moved as if he was getting ready to speak, but it took a while for the words to form. “This is all very…weird,” he said finally. “You don’t really expect me to just jump on board with this, do you?”
“Why not? The offer’s legit. We can even go back to your place if it’ll make you feel better.”
His foot lifted, dislodging her toes. “This something you do often?”
“What, find a trading card floating from the night sky? No.”
“Asking men you’ve just met for lots of sex.”
“Not often. Only when it feels right. Haven’t you ever had a one-night stand?”
He cleared his throat, looked up and to the left. Ha, she knew what that meant, even if she wasn’t a detective. He was making up an answer right this second. “No. Okay, yes, but not usually—”
“Before snacks?” she said, interrupting. “No problem. I’ll wait until we’ve eaten to ask again.”
“That’s not—You do realize I’m with the police.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
“You don’t—” He sighed. “I should have ordered something stronger.”
Aubrey contained her grin. While this part of the evening was turning out better than she’d hoped, she couldn’t wait to see how entertaining he would be once they were alone. She’d bet that blush of his went all the way down his chest. She’d also wager that he was right this second coming up with justifications for saying yes. Would it be better to help him out now, or wait a bit?
Their drinks were coming, so she’d wait. Give him time to get creative. It was clear he was hooked, even if he insisted on fighting with the lure.
“Why’d you become a policeman?”
“What?”
“Being a police detective isn’t the same as being a CPA or a math teacher. The decision can’t be a simple one. There’s a lot of political and social significance to the job, pro and con. Maybe you come from a family of cops? Or maybe a police officer had an impact on your early life?”
He closed his mouth. For a moment, he didn’t do anything but gawp at her. Then he drank from his beer, but there didn’t appear to be any left. When he put it down, it was very decisive. “Now you want small talk?”
“Small talk? I didn’t ask about the weather. A career is a big deal. The biggest, except for love.”
He sighed, and his very gorgeous jaw clenched. “Fine, now you want a deep discussion?”
She nodded. “The food’s going to take a few minutes. And I’m interested.”
Before he could respond, fresh drinks replaced the empties, and just as the waitress turned away, Liam jolted, stopping her with an urgent plea. “Wait.”
Tracy, whose nametag had somehow moved closer to her boob since her last visit, looked at him with a practiced pout. “Can I help you?”
“Whiskey. Double. Please.”
“We’ve got Bushmills, Concannon, Knappogue Castle, Clontarf, Jameson and Paddy. Any of those turn you on?”
He looked up at her, blinking again.
Aubrey reduced her tip by five percent.
“Bushmills. Thanks.”
“Welcome, honey,” Tracy said with a wink. She turned back to face the bar without giving Aubrey so much as a glance.
Ten percent.
“Sorry,” he said, his attention back where it belonged. “Why don’t you tell me about this big window display that’s got you so upset?”
“Well, all right, although you’ve already got the salient points. It’s a Christmas theme, naturally. And that makes it harder because, my God, everything’s already been done. The whole reason Yvonne hired me is because she saw what I did at this little boutique in Park Slope. That one cost virtually nothing. Just a few colored lights, and some borrowed hay.”
“You borrowed hay?”
She shrugged. “Not much. It worked, though. Because the pieces I chose for the display were all elegant as hell, a crystal chandelier, a silver tea set, clothes from the ’30s and ’40s. But good stuff, expensive stuff. I even had a legit Louis Quatorze commode that went to Christie’s afterward.”
“And the hay?”
“Oh, the backdrop was a barnyard. With real chickens and a goat. At least for a couple of days. Then it got too smelly.”
“That got you hired?”
“It worked. Completely. It was written up in the Post. I know, the Post, but still. My friends who own the boutique got a lot of business from that display.”
“Huh.” He drank some beer, stared at the saltshaker.
Holy crap, but his cheekbones were spectacular. Built to highlight his eyes, but also as a foundation for his amazing dimples and square jaw. His face could be an exhibit at MOMA and they’d sell all the tickets they could print.
Liam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed again. Didn’t meet her gaze. Her cue to dial it back a few notches. He was a muse, not a toy.
Tracy arrived with his double and the food, but to Aubrey’s delight, Liam didn’t give her the time of day.
Aubrey smiled at Tracy before she left, but the gesture wasn’t returned.
“I don’t know a lot about window displays,” he said. “But I’ll take your word for it.”
“That’s okay. We’ll talk more about the design as we go along.”
He exhaled heavily, his fork hanging loosely over the mac and cheese. Then he finally met her gaze with what she imagined was his getting-the-perp-to-confess-now look. “Did someone hire you to do this?”
“No.”
“Because if the idiots I work with paid you, just tell me. I’ll make sure you get your money. I swear. Then you can just give me the card back, and I’ll let the whole issue drop. Okay?”
“No one hired me,” she said, her happy mood cut off at the knees. “I’ve been completely honest with you.”
The music got louder, the room felt colder and time stretched as he looked through her. “Chickens and a goat?”
Everything tilted back to normal, at least on her side of the table. His half smile helped.
“Yes. It was all about contrasts and anachronisms.”
He ate for a bit, and she downed a slider. It was very good.
After he finished his appetizer, he shoved the plate to the center of the table and picked up his whiskey. “Lots and lots of sex?”
The last of her worries fled. “Yes.”
“How much is lots and lots?”
“Until I get the design right. I don’t know how long that’s going to take, although it can’t be that long because I’m on a deadline.”
He sipped his drink. Narrowed his eyes. “You said one-night stand.”
“Oh, well, it could just be one night. If you’re as inspirational as I hope. But I didn’t want to pressure you or anything.”
“I don’t have a creative bone in my body. Can’t draw, can’t carry a tune. I do my best writing on reports. I don’t even have a favorite movie. How can you possibly think I’ll be in any way inspirational?”
Aubrey leaned forward, put her hand over his. “You fell from the sky, Liam Flynn. Into my hand.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Maybe not, but answer me this. Did you know that the placebo effect has been proven as effective as medication in many cases? That when sports figures find a ritual or good luck charm their stats improve compared to players who don’t believe in omens? That the concept of the muse as inspiration is as old as human history? Frankly, it doesn’t matter whe
ther you buy it or not. I do.”
“Do you actually expect me to answer any of those questions?”
“No. Frankly, it doesn’t matter whether you buy it or not. I do.” She lowered her lashes and looked up at him. “There’s only one question that matters tonight. Will you say yes?”
Shit. He was going to say yes.
Aubrey was completely nuts. Which wasn’t the turnoff it should have been. In fact, he hadn’t been this intrigued by a date in a hell of a long time. He was confused, absolutely, but at least Aubrey wasn’t boring.
She also wasn’t what he was looking for. He’d made a decision about this kind of thing after the Macy’s parade debacle. No more one-night stands. He’d had more than his share, especially in college, but that part of his life was over. Now he wanted someone of substance. Date first, take it slow, explore the important things like values and dreams.
He hadn’t realized at the time that he would fail to make it to the sex part with any of the women he’d meet. Of course, there’d been only two in the past year.
Hell, almost a full year since—he took a bigger sip of the Bushmills.
“I don’t mean to beat the point into the ground, but you do realize I’m not asking you to marry me. This offer has no strings attached. I promise I’m not scary. I have references if you want.”
“From one-night stands?”
She leaned back, taking her hand away. “Two, in fact. We’re friends now. William lives in London but we can text him if you like, and Gabe is now married with a baby, so we’d have to text him, too. I wouldn’t want to wake anyone. I’ve also got friends who haven’t been sex partners who’ll vouch for my sanity. Or relative sanity, at least. I’m not certifiable, and I don’t take meds. Sanjula and Caro are absolutely up right now if you want to call them. I was going to invite them out for a drink, but then the wind blew, and, well, here we are.”
That wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting.
“You come here a lot. What about the bartender? Can he vouch for you?”
“Paulo? I haven’t slept with him, but if that’s not a requirement, you bet. I’ll go get him.”
“Wait here,” he said, then watched for microexpressions. She didn’t seem upset that he was actually calling her out on her offer. In fact, she seemed completely okay with it.
“Just watch out for Tracy. She can be tricky.”
“I think I can handle it.” Still no nervous ticks or touches to the mouth or hair. He was pretty sure he knew what he’d find out at the bar, but he needed a few minutes away from Aubrey. Even when he wasn’t looking directly at her he was acutely aware of her presence. Not the best circumstances for making an important decision. He’d made a commitment to himself, and he never took those lightly.
The music seemed a lot louder in the middle of the crowded room, some song he didn’t recognize with a heavy bass and one phrase repeated over and over. He could see coming back here. There was a good mix of customers. Some people wore jeans, some work clothes. Several women were decked out in what must pass for high fashion, but he didn’t run across a single face that was more interesting than Aubrey’s.
She was…unexpected. He could see that she might be too much for some, but damn if he didn’t want to say yes simply to be around her longer.
He liked her voice, her mercurial mind. He liked the look of her. Especially the way her hips were so generous and her waist so small. He could practically feel his hands on her already, pulling her tight against him.
After he’d been at the bar for a couple of minutes, the bartender finally came his way. “What can I do you for?”
It was an effort not to flash his badge. Habit. “You know Aubrey?” he asked, turning his head so the bartender could see their booth through the crowd.
“Sure do. Tips well. Doesn’t get sloppy drunk. She’s good people.”
“Not a stalker, not a danger to herself or others?”
The guy rolled his eyes. “Not that I know of, but I can’t swear to it.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“You a cop?”
That caught Liam by surprise, although it probably shouldn’t have. “Yeah, but she’s not in trouble. At least, not that I know of.”
“Have fun. Need a drink?”
Liam put a five on the counter. “I’m good. Thanks again.”
Before he turned around, he knew what his answer would be. It was breaking his commitment, but an offer like hers didn’t come around every day. She might not be the woman for his future, but his present could use some shaking up. Besides, he wanted to see her without that dress on. The heels could stay, though.
No use getting all worked up. Time and a place. Right now his biggest decision was whether to tease her or just come straight out with it. Damn.
As the space between them cleared, she looked up at him and her smile made him grin right back. There was no time for teasing, not here. He wanted her at his apartment, he wanted her there soon and he wanted her naked.
Slipping into the booth, he grabbed his whiskey and shot it down. He almost choked on the burn but somehow he managed not to make too big an ass of himself.
She laughed at him, anyway. “Where to next? Assuming Paulo’s recommendation met with your approval, that is. My place has roommates. What about yours?”
“I have no business saying yes. I’ve been up since before dawn, which makes this the most inconvenient timing for a one-night stand in the history of the world.”
“No, that would be if we were both on the run, had no place to go and a bad guy was getting too close for comfort.” She paused. “Actually, that sounds kind of exciting. Are you chasing any dangerous criminals?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Well, I guess there’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“You finished?” he asked, nodding at her half-full shot glass.
“I don’t want any more.”
“My place has no roommates. It’s New York–size, but at least there’s a bedroom.”
“Wow, fancy.” She stood up and took his hand. “You’re a brave man, Detective Flynn.”
He thought about that damn card again, and how in hell it had led to this moment. “We’ll see about that.”
She leaned in close and he met her halfway. It was a slow and easy kiss, more promise than scandal, the touch of her tongue on his lower lip all the incentive he needed to whip out his wallet.
She stopped him with a warm hand on his wrist. “This is on me. Why don’t you go down and get us a cab? I’ll meet you in a moment.”
He nipped at the corner of her mouth, but he liked her idea enough not to argue the point. “I’m going to be a wreck at work tomorrow, aren’t I?”
“I should hope so,” she said, and he just watched her as she walked away. Okay, now he could start getting all worked up.
Chapter Four
His apartment was between Hell’s Kitchen and the theater district, just a couple of blocks from Port Authority. Not a long cab ride, not at this time of night. Which didn’t mean the streets weren’t busy. Despite the cold, the sidewalk vendors were out in full force, as were the folks getting out of movies and plays, the late diners and bar denizens. The city pulsed around them, and Aubrey felt as if she’d won. Now that the game she knew how to play was over, the rest of the night was a giant question mark.
He was a perfect gentleman in the backseat of the taxi. Not plastered against his door, but not touching her, either. His hands were on his thighs, and while she tried not to stare, his fingers had jerked twice now, which was what she did when she was nervous. As they passed the Flatiron, she knew she had to do something to take his mind off later. She wanted him to be thinking about right now.
She didn’t have much to work with in the back of the taxi and she refused to be obvious. He probably wouldn’t object to her hand on his thigh, but that wasn’t the point.
After inviting Liam to the bar, she’d gone back into Le Muse and done some judicious borrowi
ng. Of course, she’d buy the underthings. She wasn’t that tacky. But she would put back the shoes she’d taken from one of the in-store mannequins and the bag that held her hat and her overnight supplies. The cost of the bra, panties and thigh-high stockings would put her over her monthly budget, but hell, that was more of a suggestion than a rule. Besides, it was worth it.
She wasn’t about to flash him the whole package, not in a car, but she could give him a sneak preview.
The first act was a dramatic sigh. It was breathy and loud enough for him to notice. She angled her face so he’d only see her in profile, but would still be able to catch the slow swipe of her tongue across her lips. Thanks to the reflective glass, she could see his head turn and his eyebrows lift. With her coat pushed open, she swung her right leg over her left, baring a swath of thigh. Her thong was still out of sight, but she’d been sure to uncover a sliver of skin above her stocking.
His sharp intake of breath made her want to grin, as did the way he hadn’t lifted his head an inch since she started her little routine. Although she couldn’t see them, she’d bet her only pair of Cavalli platforms that those big hands of his were fisted tight, aching to reach over and touch. Aubrey—1, twitchy fingers—0.
The backseat got distinctly hotter and his breathing kicked up a couple of notches. Tension sizzled during what had to be one of Aubrey’s favorite things in the world: the anticipation stage. Especially when it happened at an inconvenient place or time, when to act was impossible but to stop thinking about it was worse. As long as the phase didn’t go on too long—she wasn’t exactly a delayed gratification kind of person.
Too quickly, they turned on 42nd. Her pulse sped as the cab slowed to a stop in front of his building on West 45th. She reached for her bag as he whipped out his wallet. He tipped well, always a good sign.
As Liam opened his door, it occurred to her that this wasn’t theoretical anymore. Once they got inside, the lots and lots of sex would commence. God, she hoped they were compatible. If not, this whole project could theoretically go down in flames, which would break her heart. She needed inspiration, and she was pretty sure that if the ancient Greeks had had the foresight to realize that window designers would need help, muses would look exactly like Liam. And, of course, they’d be men.
