Rosalie angled her chin. “I walked into a door.”
“Sure you did.” He did care. Bess might have been surprised at how much he cared. Rosalie certainly would have been stunned. But he also knew there were things that couldn’t be fixed. “You’ll want to watch your step.”
“I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
He turned away from her, his hands balled into fists in his pockets. “McNee, I want to talk to you.”
“Oh, just shut up.” She didn’t bother to look up as she counted out bills. “Can’t you see I’m trying to figure the tip? There you go.”
“Thanks, lady.” The delivery boy tucked the bills away. “Enjoy your dinner.”
“There’s enough for three,” Bess stated, turning toward Alex. “But you’re not going to stay if you’re rude.”
“Rude?” The single word bounced off her ceiling. He was beside her in two strides. “You think it’s rude for me to ask you if you’ve lost your mind when I walk in and find you’ve invited a hooker to dinner?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Out.”
“Damn it, Bess...”
“I said out.” She gave him a hefty shove toward the door. “We went on one date,” she reminded him. “One.Maybe I entertained the idea of something more, but that gives you no right to come into my house and tell me what to do and who to talk with.”
He grabbed her hand before she could push him again. “One has nothing to do with the other.”
“You’re right. Absolutely right. What I should have said is that I run my life, Detective.” She snatched her hand away so that she could poke a finger at his chest. “Me. Alone. Get the picture?”
“Yeah.” He wondered how she’d like a nice clip on that pointy little chin of hers. “I’ve got a picture for you.” He hauled her up and kissed her hard. No gentle touch, no finesse. All steam heat. It lasted only seconds, but he succeeded in shocking her speechless. “Things change, McNee.” Dark, furious eyes pinned her to the spot. “Get used to it.”
With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
“Well.” Bess took one breath, then another. Her throat felt scalded. “Of all the incredible nerve. Who the hell does he think he is, marching in here that way?” Hands on her hips, she spun to face Rosalie. “Did you see that?”
“Hard to miss it.” Grinning, Rosalie snatched a french fry from a plate.
“If he thinks he’s getting away with that—thatattitude—he’s very much mistaken.”
“Man’s nuts about you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Girl, that was one lovesick puppy.”
Bess snatched up her wine and gulped. “Don’t be ridiculous. He was just showing off.”
“Uh-huh. If I had me a man who looked at me like that, I’d do one of two things.”
“Which are?”
“I’d either sit back and enjoy, or I’d run for my life.”
Frowning, Bess sat down and picked up her fork. “I don’t like to be pushed.”
“Seems to me it depends on who’s doing the pushing.” She sat, as well, and dug right into her steak. “He sure is one fine-looking man—for a cop.”
Bess stabbed at her salad. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“You’re paying the tab,” Rosalie said agreeably.
With a grunt of assent, Bess tried to eat. Damn cop, she thought. He’d ruined her appetite.
