The Cop And The Chorus Girl. Nancy Martin

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СКАЧАТЬ my bedroom, not his.”

      “You think that will stop him from sending his goons in to grab you?”

      “Believe me, sugar, it’s the best place for me right now.”

      He growled something deep in his throat, but opened the throttle and pointed his motorcycle in the direction of the Plaza Hotel, where Dixie had set up housekeeping.

      She held on tight while Flynn wove his motorcycle through Manhattan’s weekend traffic.

      The hotel loomed elegantly over the southernmost edge of Central Park. A line of horse-drawn carriages drowsed in the sun out front, awaiting tourists. A liveried doorman stood on the staircase, frequently moving down to open the doors of the limousines and taxis that disgorged Plaza guests. He directed a fleet of scurrying bellhops to carry scads of expensive luggage in and out of the grand hotel.

      All these sights had seemed like part of a movie set when Dixie had first arrived in the city. Now she accepted them as part of her amazing new life.

      A life she couldn’t wait to leave behind.

      Since her earliest memory, Dixie had been groomed for her shot at the Big Time. She had taken tap-dancing lessons and endured hours at her aunt Lucy’s Sweet Creek Hair Boutique. She’d entered beauty pageants and talent contests since the age of four. She’d been the Dairy Princess and the Fire Queen and Miss Teen Texas.

      Now—finally—here she was in the Big Apple with spotlights and autograph seekers and a hit show on Broadway. People sent flowers and candy and marriage proposals.

      And Dixie couldn’t stand it.

      I’m going back to Texas as soon as I can, she told herself.

      But first there were a few loose ends to clean up.

      Dixie clutched Flynn tightly when he swerved the bike across traffic to enter the Plaza. On the steps the doorman froze in his tracks as Flynn pulled his motorcycle under the hotel’s expansive canopy and stopped. Flynn took one look at the disdainful doorman and made no move to get off the bike. Over his shoulder, he said to Dixie, “Look, this isn’t exactly my kind of place.”

      “Not mine, either,” Dixie retorted, clambering off the bike in a flounce of white satin. “But it’s amazing how fast you can get used to luxury. Come on.”

      “What for?”

      She faced Flynn, determined to hang on to him a little longer. For the first time since arriving in New York, Dixie felt as if she’d found somebody she didn’t want to lose just yet.

      Being honest for the first time in a long while, she said, “I need your help. You have to come inside.”

      Flynn looked stubborn. “Why?”

      The hotel doorman marched over and sketched a bow. “Good afternoon, Miss Davis. We weren’t expecting your return for a few hours.”

      “Oh, hello, Barney. Uh—I’m planning a surprise for Joey.” She gave him a big grin and wound her arm sinuously around the doorman’s burly elbow. “You’ll play along with me, won’t you?”

      Barney responded with a blushing smile. He, too, had fallen for the charms Dixie just couldn’t hide. “Of course, Miss Davis. I figured this was some kind of gag.” He indicated Flynn’s motorcycle with an unflattering wave of his hand. “You don’t usually travel like this.”

      Flynn bristled at once and took off his helmet, as if readying for a fight. Quickly, Dixie intervened. “It’s a gag, all right. Keep it under your hat, okay?” For good measure, she gave his doorman’s cap a teasing flick with her manicured forefinger.

      Barney gave her an adoring smile. “Okay, Miss Davis.”

      When Barney had strolled away with the air of a conquering hero, Dixie swung desperately on Flynn once again. “Come in with me for a few minutes. Please?”

      He glowered after the doorman. “Listen, Miss Davis—”

      “Please. I may need some help with my luggage or with the police, so—”

      “Police?” he repeated, forgetting the doorman’s insult. He frowned at Dixie.

      She felt herself blushing. “Oh, don’t go being afraid of a little ol’ posse! They’ve been trying to get into my suite for weeks, and I just don’t feel like fending them off by myself anymore. You could just stand in the doorway and look dangerous, couldn’t you, sugar?”

      He hesitated. “What are the police looking for?”

      “Incriminating evidence, I suppose.” Dixie sighed in exasperation. “Joey isn’t exactly an angel, you know, so they’ve been trying to weasel their way into my bunkhouse for weeks. Oh, come on. It will only take a few minutes, sugar. Can’t you play Galahad just a little longer?”

      He considered the situation for another moment. He seemed to wrestle with his thoughts, then said almost unwillingly, “All right. A few minutes, that’s all.”

      “Wonderful!”

      Impulsively, Dixie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She couldn’t help herself. He was adorable, really. Dixie knew she shouldn’t be passing out those potent Butterfield kisses right and left, but she couldn’t resist. For the first time since hitting New York, she found herself with a man who really had some appeal. He was good-looking and delightfully wary of her flamboyant appearance.

      He reacted to her kiss as if he’d been stung by a bee—a response that made Dixie laugh. “Sugar, I think you’re trying too hard to be a tough guy!”

      Her laughter flooded Flynn with irritation. He liked her kisses, damn her, but he suddenly had an inkling that something about Dixie Davis was a little dangerous.

      She grabbed his hand. “Come on, sugar. My suite is upstairs.”

      Her touch was almost as electric as her kiss. “What about my bike?”

      “What about it?”

      “I can’t leave her here.”

      She laughed again. “Her?”

      Flynn’s temper began to flare. “This is a valuable piece of machinery.”

      “I’m sure,” she said, clearly not believing him for an instant. She turned and waved to summon the doorman again. “Barney will look after it. Especially if you tip him well. Barney!”

      Flynn felt a moment’s panic. “How much of a tip?”

      “Joey usually gives him a hundred dollars.”

      Flynn choked. He had about twenty-two bucks in his pocket—a sum that was supposed to pay for lunch and gas for the Harley. “But—”

      Too late. Dixie was already using her sweet talk on the overstuffed doorman—an older man whose ears turned bright red when Dixie leaned close and cajoled him to take special care of the Harley.

      Moments later she grabbed Flynn’s hand again and dragged СКАЧАТЬ