“Regardless, I appreciate it. My producer’s very tolerant, but if it had gone much further, she would have been annoyed.”
“Annoyed?” Alex repeated. He stripped off his jacket and tossed it onto his chair. “She’d have been annoyed to find out that one of her writers was out soliciting johns down at Twenty-third and Eleventh Avenue.”
“Researching,” Bess corrected, unoffended. “Darla—that’s my producer—she gets these headaches. I gave her a whopper when I went on a job with a cat burglar.”
“With a...” He let his words trail off and eased down on the spot on the desk she’d just vacated. “I don’t think you want to tell me about that.”
“Actually, he was a former cat burglar. Fascinating guy. I just had him show me how he’d break into my apartment.” She frowned a little, remembering. “I guess he was a little rusty. The alarm—”
“Don’t.” Alex held up a hand. He was beginning to feel a headache coming on himself.
“That’s old news, anyway.” She waved it away with a cheerful gesture of her hands. “Do you have a first name, or do I just call you Officer?”
“It’s Detective.”
“Your first name is Detective?”
“No, my rank.” He let out a sigh. “Alex.”
“Alex. That’s nice.” She ran a fingertip over the strap of his harness. She wasn’t being provocative; she wanted to know what it felt like. Once she knew him better, she was sure, she’d talk him into letting her try it on. “Well, Alex, I was wondering if you’d let me use you.”
He’d been a cop for more than five years, and until this moment he hadn’t thought anything could surprise him. But it took him three seconds to close his mouth. “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s just that you’re so perfect.” She stepped closer. She really wanted to get a better look at his weapon—without being obvious about it.
She smelled like sunshine and sex. As he drew it in, Alex thought that combination would baffle any man. “I’m perfect?”
“Absolutely.” She looked straight into his eyes and smiled. Her gaze was frank and assessing. She was studying him, the way a woman might study a dress in a showroom window. “You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
Her eyes were pure green. No hint of gray or blue, no flecks of gold. There was a small dimple near her mouth. Only one. Nothing about that odd, sexy face was balanced. “What you’re looking for?”
“I know you’re busy, but I’d try not to take up too much of your time. An hour now and then.”
“An hour?” He caught himself echoing her, and shook himself loose. “Listen, I appreciate—”
“You’re not married, are you?”
“Married? No, but—”
“That makes it simpler. It just came to me last night when I was getting into bed.”
God.He’d learned to appreciate women early. And he’d learned to juggle them skillfully—if he said so himself. He knew how to dodge, when to evade and when to sit back and enjoy. But with this one, all bets were off.
“Is this heavy?” she asked, fiddling with his harness.
“You get used to it. It’s just there.”
Her smile warmed, making him think of sunlight again. “Perfect,” she murmured. “I’d be willing to compensate you for your time, and your expertise.”
“You’d be—” He wasn’t certain if he was insulted or embarrassed. “Hold on, babe.”
“Just think about it,” Bess said quickly. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I have this problem with Matthew.”
A brand-new emotion snuck in under his guard, and it was as green as her eyes. “Matthew? Who the hell is Matthew?”
“We call him Storm, actually. Lieutenant Storm Warfield, Millbrook PD.”
Now he definitely had a headache. Alex rubbed his fingers against his temple. “Millbrook?”
