Have Me. Jo Leigh

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СКАЧАТЬ laughter suited her down to her toes. It was genuine, easy, relaxed. His smile was even more delicious than his picture had implied. So far, so good. But now, it was his turn.

      “I’m Jake Donnelly, I’m currently living in Windsor Terrace in Brooklyn, in the house where I was born. I’m staying with my dad doing some remodeling work. I come from a long line of cops, all the way back to when the Donnellys crossed over from Ireland. I’ve been with the police department since I graduated college. Well, until earlier this year. I have no idea what I’m going to do after I finish the renovations.”

      He leaned back as their drinks were placed on the table, then sought her eyes again. “And it appears we’re both looking for a night to remember. How’d I do?”

      “Great,” she said, then she lifted her glass and clicked it against his. Jake was totally unlike anyone she’d ever dated. He was from Brooklyn, but he’d given up the accent for something far easier on her admittedly snobbish ears. She knew absolutely nothing about being a cop, about Windsor Terrace, about renovations. She was incredibly curious to know if his limp and no longer being a policeman were connected. And she couldn’t imagine, not for the life of her, staying with her own family for more than about three hours. She and Jake were worlds apart, completely unsuited in every way but one.

      He was perfect.

      JAKE DRANK A LITTLE AS HE tried not to look as if he was scoping her out from head to toe. But screw it, he was. At least, as much as he could, given she was sitting.

      Rebecca Thorpe was, to put it bluntly, off the charts hot. Her hair was golden and shiny in the glitter of the bar, her eyes smoky and intense. She was tall and slender, but the way her dress hugged her breasts made him say a prayer this night would end with him learning a lot more.

      No mention of the Winslow name or the foundation she headed. Why not? Being careful? Probably, although why she would assume he didn’t recognize her was a little baffling. Everyone who lived in New York knew of her family. They were like the Kennedys. Politicians, judges, private jets, private clubs, more money than sense if you asked him, but nobody did, and that seemed fair. He wouldn’t know what the hell to do in a room full of Winslows, but being right here, right now with this one? It was his lucky day.

      “I don’t know where to start with questions,” Rebecca said. “Do you miss being a cop?”

      He’d left himself open for whatever with that intro, but he still wished she’d begun somewhere else. He shouldn’t complain. At least she hadn’t opened with the limp.

      He was still self-conscious about the scars. Odd how the shoulder looked so much worse. The leg was no picnic, either. But it hadn’t made anyone run screaming. Yet. What the hell, if it freaked her out, there was nothing he could do about that. He’d just get on home and read up on shower installations. “Yeah, I miss it,” he said. “Hard not to, when it’s the only thing I’ve ever done. I could have taken a desk assignment, but that wasn’t me.”

      “Ah, so you were hurt on the job?”

      He nodded. “Yeah. Shot in the thigh and the shoulder.

      They’re not pretty, but I was lucky. Either one could have killed me, so …”

      “I can’t imagine. God, shot twice?” She shuddered, winced. “That’s horrible. I’m always astonished at how vulnerable the human body can be, while at the same time astoundingly strong. I had a friend once who slipped on a leaf. Fell. Hit her head. She was twenty-four, and she died that night. You were shot twice, and you not only survived, but it looks from here as if you’re thriving.”

      “It is a mystery. I tell people it must not have been my time, but that’s just something easy to say. I’m not a religious man, or one who believes in fate. Nothing mystical or predestined. I guess I’m a pragmatist. I was in a dangerous profession, in a risky situation. It’s no big surprise I was wounded. I lived because they got to me in time, got me to the right doctors. Thriving? Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m learning to accept my limitations. Oddly, there are fewer than I expected, with the notable exception of losing my career.”

      She didn’t respond immediately, but she did lean in. She didn’t even try to pretend she wasn’t staring, wasn’t taking his measure. “A pragmatist,” she said eventually. “That’s helpful, living in this city. This world.”

      “It is. What about you?” he asked. “What do you believe in?”

      She smiled, leaned back in her chair. Her bangs were a bit in her eyes and he wanted to push them back to see her better. Not complaining, just sorta wishing.

      “Boy, you don’t fool around, do you?”

      “Guess not. We can always talk about this damn cold front, if you’d prefer.”

      “I’m good,” she said. “I like the tough questions.”

      “I didn’t even ask, would you like something to eat? I haven’t looked at the menu, but I know they serve food here. Or we could go somewhere else for dinner.”

      “Oh, food. I’m not starving, but I could eat something. How about you?”

      “I could do with more than the bologna sandwich I had around four. Busy day.”

      “I happen to know the menu here is excellent. Why don’t you see if anything suits your fancy. Meanwhile I’ll consider my answer to your very provocative question and finish my drink.”

      He nodded, grabbed the menu from the center of the table. Not much he didn’t like. When he looked up again, she was still staring at him. He should have been unsettled. He wasn’t used to undisguised interest. In fact, his life had depended on his blending in, fading into the background. Even the dark wasn’t enough to hide behind, but instead of getting that crawling itch to run, he wanted her to look her fill. And he wanted her to like what she saw.

      He passed her the menu, then finished his bourbon, signaling the waitress when he caught her eye. “There’s nothing on there I wouldn’t eat,” he said to Rebecca. “Could live without the foie gras, but I like the meat and the fish selections. I think you should pick us out a few, and we’ll have ourselves a small buffet while we go at least one step beyond the surface. How does that sound?”

      “Fantastic.”

      Their order was taken, fresh drinks requested, and they were alone once more. It was all he could do not to call back the lovely girl and ask her to add a room with a king-size bed to the tab.

      “I’m a mutt,” Rebecca said, folding her hands on the shiny table. “Philosophically. I lean toward Buddhism, but I’ve got some roots in the church from when I was a kid. I mostly try to make a difference. Walk the walk, not just talk about it. I tend to connect to people who do the same.”

      That could have been a crock of bull, but his instincts said no. She was telling him the truth. It fit with her job, but that wasn’t what he thought she was talking about. Another skill from his vice days was how to listen for the truth. Of course, in this instance, he had to factor in how badly he wanted to take Rebecca Thorpe to bed.

      Which was really damn bad.

       3

      REBECCA LICKED THE TIP OF her thumb as she finished the last СКАЧАТЬ