Laura and the Lawman

by Shelley Cooper

  “How does a woman go about getting power?”

  “Pandering to a man’s ego. Dressing nicely for him and maintaining her figure. Letting a man think she’s small and helpless. But mainly through sex.”

  “Is that what you’re doing with Joseph?” he asked softly. “Asserting your need for power?”

  She didn’t blink. “Of course.”

  The thought of her in Joseph Merrill’s arms made him want to smash his fist into something. Preferably Joseph’s jaw.

  Antonio decided he’d had enough small talk. It certainly wasn’t getting him anywhere he wanted to go. Reaching into the glove compartment, he brought out a crossword puzzle book and a mechanical pencil. At least these puzzles he could decipher. They didn’t try his patience the way a certain brunette did.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He pulled a lap board out from under the seat and opened the book to a fresh page. Tapping the pencil against the board, he read the first clue.

  “Working a crossword puzzle.”

  “You like crossword puzzles?”

  He filled in the answer before replying. “Yes, I do.”

  “I don’t care too much for puzzles.”

  He looked over at her. “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “Too much work. I’d rather spend my time doing other things.”

  “Like your hair and your nails, you mean?” he asked snidely.

  “Absolutely,” she agreed.

  Silence settled around them once more.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know a six-letter word for an igneous rock composed of labradorite and augite, would you?” he asked a few minutes later.

  “Gabbro,” she replied immediately, seemingly without thinking.

  Antonio sat up straight in his seat. When he glanced over at her, her gaze was focused on the winding road. For a woman who professed not to like crossword puzzles, she knew the answer to a fairly obscure clue. Yet another mystery for him to solve.

  “Would you mind spelling that?” he asked carefully.

  She did. He checked, and the word fit.

  “How did you know that?” he asked.

  “I must have seen it on a game show.” There was a sudden cautiousness in her voice.

  “A game show?” He didn’t bother to hide his skepticism.

  “I just love game shows, don’t you?” she gushed. “Especially the ones where you can win a lot of money.”

  “Ah, yes, man’s number-two need,” he drawled.

  “Exactly.”

  “You have an interesting take on the human condition.”

  She looked at him out of the corner of one eye. “What take is that?”

  “That every man, and woman for that matter, is solely out for him or herself. Power, money, sex, they’re all that matter. If you don’t look out for number one, no one else will. Let me know, please, if I’m mistaken.”

  “No. You’ve summed it up quite nicely.”

  “Tell me,” he asked. “How did you come by this conclusion?”

  “What’s it matter to you?”

  It mattered because, as far as he was concerned, the way she was wasting her life on a man who shouldn’t deserve her was an even bigger crime than the one that very same man was allegedly committing.

  “It doesn’t, really. I was just curious. Did you pick your theory out of thin air? Or did you formulate it after exhaustive study? Perhaps you wrote your doctoral thesis on the topic.”

  “Now you’re mocking me.”

  He gazed at her seriously. “How am I mocking you?”

  “I didn’t go to college.”

  “How could I know that?” he asked softly, although he was well aware, from reading about her in the dossier on Joseph Merrill, that Ruby O’Toole did not possess a college degree. “All I know about you is that you work for Joseph and that, in your words, you belong to him.”

  He knew one other thing. She was smarter than she let on. Did part of her strategy for snaring Joseph also include acting dumb?

  “If you must know,” she told him, “I’ve earned the right to hold the opinions I do. The right of experience.”

  “You certainly are experienced,” he muttered.

  “Did you say something?”

  He looked down at the puzzle. “Just talking to myself.”

  “Can I ask you something, Michael?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why are you so upset? Are you really going to sit there and try to convince me that you and I don’t share the same philosophy about the human condition?”

  Her words brought him up short. Way short. How could he have been so stupid? So careless? He’d nearly gone and blown it all by getting his underwear in a twist. From now on, he would have to tread extremely carefully while in her presence. Ruby O’Toole could pull him out of character faster than a magician could pull a rabbit out of his hat.

  And if she started thinking about the contradictions… He had to change his tune, but fast.

  “You’re right,” he conceded, hoping to sound rueful, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I do share your philosophy. But no man likes to be seen through so easily. It’s a blow to his ego. I was annoyed. I suppose I was trying to get a rise out of you.”

  “That’s what I thought,” she replied.

  “You were wrong about one thing, though,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Power is not my number-one need. Money is. If I have enough money, I can buy all the power I need.”

  She bestowed a superior smile on him. “If you say so.”

  He felt the need to have the last word. “Could I offer you a caution?”

  “Of course.”

  “I recommend you not share your philosophy with Joseph.”

  Her laughter was light and amused. “Trust me, Michael. I would never be so blunt with a man I’m seeing romantically.”

  No, he thought sourly. She’d just bat those impossibly long eyelashes of hers at him, and he’d dissolve into a puddle of testosterone need.

  Just an hour ago he’d been certain he knew all there was to know about Ruby O’Toole. But after her discourse on man’s and woman’s need for power—and after telling him how much she needed to sublimate all her wants and desires to those of the man who would take care of her—he wasn’t certain at all. Then there was her disclaimer about any knowledge of an advanced crossword puzzle clue, followed by her calling him on the carpet for acting out of character.

  He wasn’t about to go so far as admitting that there might be some depth to her, after all. But he would concede he didn’t know everything he thought he did.

  Just who are you, Ruby O’Toole? More important, what are you up to? What secrets do you know? And how do I get you to tell them to me?

  They stopped for lunch at a diner outside of Beckley, West Virginia. To Antonio’s surprise, Ruby ordered a cheeseburger, French fries and a chocolate shake. He watched in silence as she took a bite of her cheeseburger, then closed her eyes. A look of rapture crossed her face, and she chewed lustily.

  Even though he didn’t like her all that much, Antonio felt the stirring of arousal at the sight. His own food forgotten, he sat back in his chair and watched her. When a rivulet of juice ran down her chin, he had to fight the urge to lean forward and taste it for himself. Did she make love with as much abandon as she ate?

  “Napkin?” He plucked one from the receptacle on the table and thrust it toward her.

  “Thanks.” She took the proffered item from him with a smile. When her chin was dry, she asked, “Aren’t you hungry?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  She nodded toward his plate. “You haven’t eaten anything.”

  Antonio picked up his club sandwich and took a bite. He didn’t taste a thing.

  Ruby tossed him a curious glance before returning to her meal.

  He didn’t know what was worse: the silence between them, during which his arousal continued to grow painfully as he covertly watche
d her, or the small talk that inevitably ended up in the opposite direction from the one he intended to take.

  At least with small talk he’d have something else to concentrate on. If he just sat here, watching her eat, by the time they paid the bill he’d be so aroused he’d be walking funny.

  Of course, with all the blood in his body centered in one vital organ, his powers of thought were severely limited at the moment. Still, if he tried hard enough, he should be able to come up with something to say.

  “You’re really going to eat all that food?” was the brilliant opening he finally led with.

  She arched an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I?”

  Antonio tried to sound nonchalant. “It’s not exactly low in fat. I just assumed, like most women, you spend all your time watching your figure.”

  Ruby picked up a French fry. Tilting her head back, she opened her mouth. Three clean bites with her incredibly straight teeth, and the French fry disappeared. Antonio was sweating by the time she swallowed.

  “Watching my figure is for men to do,” she said, picking up another fry.

  He welcomed the shaft of irritation that took his arousal down a few degrees. “You keep eating like that, all they’re going to watch is you ballooning up in size.”

  “Hasn’t happened yet,” she said, dismissingly.

  “Bad habits eventually catch up to us all.”

  She gave him a curious glance. “So I’ve been told. Okay, Michael, I’m game. What should I be eating?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “A salad, maybe?”

  “Rabbit food, you mean.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t find it filling. Besides, depending on what you put on a salad, it could have more fat than this cheeseburger. Were you aware of that?”

  “I was just making an observation,” he said.

  “You seem to make a lot of them.” She took a sip of her milkshake, then added, “Want to know the real secret of keeping your weight at a manageable level? It’s quite simple.”

  “Sure.”

  “Everything in moderation.”

  “Everything in moderation,” he repeated.

  She nodded. “You can eat foods high in fat, if you balance them out with fruits and vegetables. And exercise, of course.”

  “Everything in moderation,” he murmured again, his gaze on his plate. He looked up. “Does that go for your love life, too?”

  She met his gaze unflinchingly. “Sex life, you mean.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “What you’re really asking about is my sex life.”

  Here they were again: due east, when he’d thought they were headed west. He’d expected a typical Ruby comment along the lines of moderation having nothing to do with her love life. Instead she’d turned the tables on him.

  Before he could frame an answer to her question, she asked him an even harder one. “Why are you so interested in my sex life?”

  Because I want to be a part of it. Because I’m attracted to you, and I’m disappointed you’re not the woman I need you to be in order to allow you to become a part of it.

  “I’ve never met another woman quite like you.” That, at least, was the truth. “I guess I’m just trying to understand you. Since you admittedly use sex to get power, I thought it was a fair question.”

  To his relief she looked pleased, rather than offended. Finally he’d said something right.

  “It might be a fair question,” she replied, “but I hope you’ll understand if I decline to answer.”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you married?” she asked.

  Antonio nearly choked on his iced tea. “You’re asking me that now? After the way you came on to me Saturday?”

  “So far as I remember, we never did establish your marital status,” she replied. “Besides, I told you I’m an incorrigible flirt. Marital status isn’t the first thought that enters my mind when I meet an attractive man.”

  He had no business being so pleased that she thought he was attractive. “Since you’re already involved with someone, why should you care?”

  “I’m just trying to figure you out…like you are with me. So,” she asked again, “are you?”

  He wondered what she would do if he told her the truth. That, to the endless frustration of his family, the thought of marriage always left him feeling claustrophobic. His life was crowded enough as it was. While the relatives of other undercover cops worried incessantly over their safety, his five brothers and his sister were terrified he’d never settle down. In this case, at least, Antonio’s truth was also Michael’s truth.

  “Do I look like I’m married?”

  Her smile grew broader. “Trust me. I know a lot of married men who neither look nor act married.”

  He’d just bet she did. “I see.”

  “I’ll try one more time. Are you married, Michael?”

  He was Michael Corsi, he reminded himself. It was about time he remembered it and acted accordingly.

  “Hardly,” he said, injecting as much disdain as he could into the word.

  She tilted her head and eyed him carefully. “You got something against marriage?”

  He spread his arms in a devil-may-care manner. “Nothing, except it would cramp my style.”

  “What is your style? Love ’em and leave ’em?”

  “Some people have said that.”

  “Interesting,” Ruby commented.

  “What?”

  “Obviously you see nothing wrong in being a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy, but you definitely find something wrong with my being an incorrigible flirt. Does anyone but me see a double standard at work here?”

  She had a point, Antonio conceded. However, he could hardly tell her that he was the one who objected to her moral code, not Michael. Nor could he tell her that the only reason she knew of his disapproval was because she had managed to pull him out of character at least a thousand times since they met.

  “The question is,” he heard her say, “why are you a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy?”

  He suddenly found himself feeling wary, although he couldn’t identify the source of his reluctance. It was probably nothing more than his desire to remain in character and not blow it by saying something stupid. The way he had earlier.

  He was Michael Corsi, he reminded himself yet again. He had to handle this question the way Michael would.

  “Does there have to be a reason?”

  “There’s always a reason,” Ruby stated. “In your case, my guess is that you have commitment issues.”

  He felt his eyebrows climb. “Commitment issues?”

  She nodded. “You were probably burned by love in the past, and now you don’t want to give your heart to any woman. You don’t want to risk the pain. Either that or you hate women. But something tells me that isn’t the case.”

  Relief filled him, and his wariness fled. She was so far from both the cover story he’d created for Michael and the truth of his own life he almost laughed out loud.

  “I hate to burst your bubble, but I haven’t been burned by love. And I don’t hate women. I just happen to like things the way they are. Variety is the spice of life, you know.”

  In truth, he had never been in love. As a youth, he’d been too busy sowing his wild oats to commit to one relationship. As an adult, the demands of working undercover prevented him from being with a woman long enough to fall in love. Of course, he couldn’t tell Ruby that.

  “Since we’re analyzing each other’s supposed issues,” he said, “maybe you’ll answer the question I asked you on Saturday. Why are you an incorrigible flirt?”

  “Are you really interested? Or are you trying to make me squirm, the way you were then?”

  He bit back a smile. Leave it to Ruby not to let that one go by unchallenged. “I’m really interested.” To his surprise it was true.

  “It’s not because I want to push people away, like you thought,” she said.

>   “Then why is it?” he countered.

  “Because of my past. My father was not a demonstrative man. My need for constant male appreciation stems from that lack.”

  “I guess I’m not that self-aware,” Antonio said.

  “Don’t knock it till you try it. Who was it who wrote that the unexamined life isn’t worth living?”

  He stared at her. “You’ve read Socrates?”

  There it was again, the sudden blankness of expression that hid her thoughts from him.

  “Who’s Socrates?”

  “An ancient Greek philosopher,” he answered automatically. “I suppose you heard that quote on a game show, right?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Antonio knew he’d get nothing further from her in that regard. “Do incorrigible flirts get married?”

  “To the right man,” Ruby replied.

  “Meaning a man with gobs of money. A man like Joseph.”

  “Of course. Some women aspire to be homemakers. Others aspire to a career. I aspire to marrying a millionaire.”

  “What about love?” he asked.

  “What about it?” she said. “It doesn’t seem to come very high on your list.”

  “But you’re a woman. It’s supposed to come high on yours.”

  She spared him a disgusted look. “That is, quite possibly, the most sexist thing any man has ever said to me. I think I need to make a phone call to your sister.”

  He grinned triumphantly at her, and understanding bloomed in her eyes.

  “You’re paying me back for my map remark, aren’t you?”

  “Perhaps,” he acknowledged. “Seriously, though. You really want a man to take care of you?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “What’s wrong with being independent, of having a mind of your own? What’s wrong with taking care of yourself? You have a good job. You can afford it.”

  His sister must have rubbed off on him more than he’d realized, Antonio reflected. Kate would be thrilled.

  “I’ve gone as far as I can in my line of work,” Ruby said. “I have expensive tastes. I need a man to provide them.”

  “You’d just be a trophy wife, you know,” he felt compelled to point out.

  She used her straw to stir her milkshake. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

  “What happens when you grow older and your looks fade? What happens when Joseph, or another man just like him, trades you in on a newer model?”