The man addressing her partner was about her own height, and he projected a commanding presence. Wavy hair the color of antiqued brass was cut around his ears and left long enough in back to brush his collar. His face lacked the movie-star good looks of Cruz’s, but this man was attractive in his own right. The angles of his face were compelling, the chin uncompromising, the chiseled mouth undeniably sensual. When she looked at his eyes she caught her breath. His pale green gaze was pinned on her, despite the fact that he was talking to Cruz. And its shrewd, assessing look seemed to sum her up in the space of a second, and find her wanting.
“Madeline, this is Connor McLain. We were partners long before he became Lieutenant Detective McLain. Connor, Detective Sergeant Madeline Casey.”
“How long were you and Cruz partners?” she asked Connor.
“Long enough to discover what he thinks of compromising.”
“He wasn’t too bad,” Madeline said judiciously, throwing Cruz a sidelong glance. “He only sulked half the morning.”
Connor cocked a brow at this information. “Is that right? He’s matured, then.”
“Gee, thanks, amigo,” Cruz interrupted, slapping him on the shoulder. “Remind me to tell Michele about the time we went down to the wharf and found that bar, where you-”
“On second thought, he was the best damn partner I ever had and you’re lucky to have him,” Connor said quickly. With a warning look at Cruz, he added, “Michele ordered me to invite you to dinner this week, but you’re only coming if you can keep your mouth shut.”
Cruz’s mouth quirked. “I’ll give her a call. We were just on our way out for lunch, and it’s Madeline’s turn to pick where we go, so catch you later. I’ll need to take a little extra time to deal with the heartburn.” They walked away.
“Very funny.” She remembered how he’d almost kissed her the last time she’d chosen where to dine, and she wiped away the moisture the memory brought to her palms. She realized suddenly that it had been much easier to keep Cruz at a distance this morning. They had spoken strictly about work. But it was not as easy to maintain that distance when they were on the street and she pondered that. She’d never been a particularly easy person to get to know. Ariel had been the only other person who’d managed to get close to her, despite the obstacles in the way, and that was only because Ariel had crashed right through them. Cruz, however, was managing a similar feat with much more grace and charm, and the realization frightened her. She had to be on a friendly basis with him in order to get close enough to prove or disprove his criminal involvement. But she was uncomfortable with opening herself up in return. “How long have you known Lieutenant McLain?” she asked as they left the building and walked toward the car.
“Since he was rookie McLain,” he answered. “We’re good friends. He’s a great guy.”
She was a little surprised at the revelation, although she’d picked up on the camaraderie between the two. They didn’t seem to have much in common, at least at first glance. Displaying the direct opposite of Cruz’s easy manner and lighthearted banter, McLain had seemed very tough and unyielding. On second thought, she’d had occasion to see Cruz turn into someone very tough indeed when he’d been confronted by Baker last week, so maybe he and McLain had more in common than she’d first believed.
She drove them to Louie’s, a place noted for its hamburgers. It was crowded, and they sat on stools at the tiny counter.
After they’d placed their orders, Cruz looked around with a jaundiced eye. “I’ll bet you know the whereabouts of every greasy spoon in the city.”
“This isn’t a greasy spoon,” she objected. “And out of deference to your lack of table manners, I brought you to a place that serves the food on plates. What more do you want?”
“How about an antidote for ptomaine poisoning?”
She ignored that. He obviously lacked an adventurous spirit when it came to dining, but by the time this case was over, she would have broadened his culinary habits extensively.
By the time this case was over. The words came back to echo in her mind with nagging insistence. What else would she have changed for him by that time? A change of address, perhaps, if he landed in jail? She studied the napkin on the table in front of her. She’d spent most of her free time over the weekend looking up information on him. She’d gone to 1.A. headquarters to use the computers there. She now knew his address and what kind of car he drove, and the fact that he’d received two speeding tickets in the past three years. It was the information on his car that returned the slightly sick feeling to her stomach now. Checking through the records for licenses on motor vehicles, she had found that he was the owner of a new model sports car, one that listed for more than his entire year’s salary.
When she’d checked his credit history she’d had another unpleasant surprise. He had only one outstanding loan, for some property listed at his address. He was obviously buying his home. So how, she wondered for the hundredth time, did someone who made the kind of money she did afford to buy an expensive toy for a car and pay cash for it?
The question had plagued her for the rest of the weekend. From what he’d told her about his family, she could discount the possibility that he’d received an inheritance. It sounded as though he and his siblings had been raised solely on the hard work of their parents.
She surreptitiously studied the man seated across from her. She was having a hard time imagining this man as a criminal. Right now he was trying to get comfortable on his stool. Finally he turned to the side to face her, resting his torso against the counter and leaning his head on his folded elbow Thinking of bow she’d spent her weekend made it difficult to meet his eyes, but she forced herself to do so.
“Did you get to the family dinner yesterday?” she asked with studied disinterest.
“Sure did. What did you do?”
“Not much.”
“Well, believe it or not, I spent much of the weekend on my knees.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Praying or begging?”
He laughed. “You have a wicked way of thinking, do you know that? I like that in a woman. Can’t you think of anything else I might have been doing? C’mon, Madeline, use your imagination.”
She did, and the images that floated through her mind gave her hot flashes. He was provocative just by being, damn him, and he knew it, too. “I can’t imagine,” she said indifferently, and he laughed again.
“I’ll have you know I was doing good deeds most of Saturday morning,” he informed her. “One of the tenants in the building where I live was moving out, so I helped him carry his things.”
“That wouldn’t have had you on your knees,” she blurted without thinking.
He grinned, amused that he’d caught her interest, despite her efforts to act otherwise. “No, that wouldn’t, would it?”
Their orders were placed in front of them, and he looked up from his grilled chicken breast to see her biting into a thick cheeseburger with huge enjoyment. “You’re a heart attack waiting to happen, lady,” he observed. And in more ways than one. When she’d shown up at work today wearing yet another jacket over tailored trousers, he’d been tempted to ask if she owned one of those in every color of the rainbow. But before eating, she’d slipped out of the cream-colored jacket and he was treated to the picture of her in a turquoise silk tank top, and the sight was impairing his ability to swallow.
Her arms were shapely and incredibly white. So was the skin above the rounded neckline of the top. When she put her sandwich down and reached for her glass, he was treated to the slightest hint of cleavage. He picked up his knife and fork and began sawing at his lunch with methodical precision. He needed something, anything, to take his mind off a mental picture of his own hand laid upon her chest. The contrast of his bronzed skin against her far fairer skin would be incredibly arousing. As a matter of fact, just imagining it was incredibly arousing, and he shifted uncomfortably on the stool. By sheer willpower he tried to push the flick of visual imagery from his mind and focus on eating. But somehow the simple process of chewing and swallowing wasn’t enough to keep teasing questions of what she looked like beneath that silky top from dancing across his mind. And when he heard her next words, sounding as if she were reading his every libidinous thought, he froze in the act of lifting the fork to his mouth.