Название: Bulletproof Hearts
Автор: Brenda Harlen
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: Mills & Boon Vintage Intrigue
isbn: 9781472076441
isbn:
“Other than tonight, how are you enjoying the new job?” he asked.
The cup Natalie had picked up trembled slightly in her hand. “It hasn’t been boring.”
“I’ll bet you thought you were getting away from the problems of the big city by coming to Fairweather.”
“I did,” she admitted.
“If it makes you feel any better, this town doesn’t have a high rate of violent crime.”
“Except in the neighborhood I walked into tonight,” she reminded him.
“But still relatively low compared to the bigger cities.”
“I’m sure that will help me sleep,” she said dryly.
The simple offhand comment brought to mind images of Natalie in bed. In his bed. Her sexily tousled hair spread over his pillowcase, her stormy eyes heavy with desire, her lips erotically swollen from his kisses. The image was startlingly vivid, the longing achingly real. “If you’re having trouble sleeping, maybe I could help.”
Her cup clattered in the saucer as she set it back down, and her eyes were wide and wary as they met his. Obviously his offer had surprised her. No more than it had surprised him.
She cleared her throat. “Are you propositioning me, Lieutenant?”
Was he? If so, that scene in Merrick’s apartment must have shaken him more than he realized. He hadn’t shared his bed with anyone since Beth died, nor had he wanted to do so. “No.” He considered. “Maybe.”
Natalie chuckled. The soft sexy sound suited her, he thought. It was as unconsciously seductive as everything else about her.
Sylvia returned from the kitchen with two plates, set them down on the table.
Dylan waited until the waitress was out of earshot before continuing. “What would you say if I were propositioning you?”
“No.” Her response was quick and unequivocal.
“Ouch.” But he was more relieved than insulted.
She smiled as she toyed with the fried potatoes on her plate. “It’s nothing personal. I’m just not in the habit of going to bed with men I’ve known less than twenty-four hours.”
Nor was he in the habit of propositioning women he’d known less than twenty-four hours, but he wasn’t going to admit that to her. Acknowledging the uncharacteristic reaction would be too close to acknowledging his feelings—and he wasn’t even sure what those feelings were.
Instead, he played it casual. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll get back to you later, then.”
“Don’t bother. I’m also not in the habit of getting involved with people I work with.”
“There are always exceptions to a rule.”
“Not this one,” she said firmly, digging in to her omelet.
He knew she was right. In fact, he’d come to the same conclusion himself—and had promptly forgotten his own resolution the minute she’d sat down across from him.
“Besides,” she said, “I find your sudden interest more than a little suspicious when you’ve made no secret of the fact that you don’t approve of my being hired to fill the vacancy in the D.A.’s office.”
“It doesn’t matter if I approve or disapprove, and I distinctly remember telling you that I was reserving judgment.”
“You were quick enough to pass judgment when you found me in Merrick’s apartment.”
“And I’m not going to apologize for that,” he told her. “You shouldn’t have been there. However valid your reasons for agreeing to meet with him, you should never have ventured into that neighborhood on your own without telling anyone where you were going.”
“I called you,” she admitted.
That surprised him. “You did?”
She bit into a piece of toast. Frowned. “It’s buttered.”
“I’m sure your arteries will survive.” He slathered jam onto his own bread. “When did you call me?”
“Before I left to meet with Merrick. I left a message on your voice mail.”
“Oh.” He usually left his cell phone in the car when he was home. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”
She smiled wryly, drawing his attention to the fullness of her soft pink lips. Kissable lips, he thought again. And glistening now with traces of butter. He tore his gaze away, gulped down a mouthful of bitter coffee.
“I tried,” she said. “You weren’t listening. You just steamrolled past without giving me a chance to explain.”
Well, he was paying complete attention to her now, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the feelings she stirred inside him. Feelings he hadn’t been aware of since Beth’s death. Feelings he hadn’t thought he’d ever experience again. Not with another woman. Grief, guilt and regrets assailed him, not just because of Beth and everything they’d lost, but because he’d treated Natalie unfairly. He hadn’t expected the instantaneous attraction, and he’d immediately taken an adversarial stance with her to avoid examining his feelings.
“I guess I should apologize,” he said, although she wouldn’t know he was referring to more than just his behavior at Merrick’s apartment.
She shook her head. “I just want to forget everything that’s happened in the past few hours.”
“That’s not likely. Not once the press starts sniffing around.”
She groaned. “I’ve stepped in it up to my knees, haven’t I?”
“Yeah, but you’re wearing nice shoes.” He’d noticed those immediately. Expensive designer shoes like the ones his sister Hannah favored. With skinny heels that added at least two inches to her height and emphasized her slender ankles and shapely calves. There wasn’t much about Natalie Vaughn he hadn’t noticed.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”
“In my job, if you don’t learn to find the humor in things, you don’t last very long.”
She pushed her plate aside. “How long have you been a cop?”
“Almost fifteen years.” He dumped salt on the potatoes left on her plate, then scooped up a forkful and brought them to his lips.
“You keep eating like that, you won’t last another fifteen,” she warned him.
He grinned. “It’s nice to know that you’re worried about me.”
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