by Mia Carson
“You could say that,” Tim agreed. “I landed a date.”
“With the sexy detective? How the hell did you manage that?”
“She asked me, actually. Coffee this Saturday.”
“Coffee. Good first date, I guess.”
Tim shrugged. All he needed was a chance. A chance to do what? You really think you’re in the same league as someone like Chris? She’s going to eat you alive and spit you out if you mess this up.
Maybe, but Tim was willing to risk it. Those icy eyes had haunted him since she’d stepped into his office wearing a black leather jacket and flashing her badge. A fantasy involving handcuffs slipped into his mind again, and he hurried to sit down before Nick had anything else to give him shit about.
Saturday—two more days and he would see what Chris was like away from the badge. She was certainly nothing like Maya or the other women he dated. No, she was a completely different breed, possibly someone who could handle his anger. From the warning she gave him about pushing her too hard and losing, he knew she probably had one that rivaled his own.
The remainder of the afternoon passed with him remembering her reddened cheeks when she’d asked him. He expected a woman who looked like her would have men falling at her feet all the time, but she acted like she’d never asked a man out for coffee before. Curious. Everything about her was curious.
Chapter 6
Chris fiddled with her hair again, brushing it and shaking it out until she groaned in frustration. “I can’t do this.”
“The hell you can’t,” Cheryl called from the living room of her apartment.
“Really, this is a bad idea. Why did you tell me I could do this? He’s going to think I’m a nutcase.”
“Only if you act like one. And what the hell happened to all your furniture?” she yelled. “I clearly remember this place being fully furnished once upon a time.”
Chris gave up on her hair, slid two studs into her earlobes, slipped a simple silver chain over her neck, and gave herself one final look. “I got rid of it.”
“Got rid of it or destroyed it?”
“What’s the difference? It’s not here. So I need some new stuff.” She tugged at her black, V-neck t-shirt and readjusted her black belt at her hips before forcing her hands to her sides. “Do you think this is all right?”
“Are you wearing all black?”
“Not all black,” she mumbled.
“I heard and no, it’s not all right. Do you know how many other colors there are in the world? Blue would look great on you. So would green.”
“I like black,” she argued and flipped off her bedroom light as Cheryl walked around her apartment with a tape measure. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.” She measured the far wall, whispering to herself under her breath. “Are you ready for your date?”
Chris considered a beer before going, but she was riding her bike and never drank if she would be driving it through the city. “I have no idea, but don’t think I have much of a choice.”
“No, you really don’t.” Cheryl let the tape measure close and scrutinized Chris’ outfit. “Really?”
“I’m comfortable. Isn’t that important when you’re on a first date?”
“You got lucky with Jeff. You two never had this awkwardness, did you?”
Chris held up her jacket, folding it over her arm as she bid the pain to stay buried. “No, we didn’t. I quite liked not feeling like a teenager at the prom all over again.”
“You went to your prom?”
“For about five minutes until my date started making out with someone else. Then I got kicked out for starting a brawl.”
“Was Jeff your date?”
Chris grinned remembering that night at the high school. “Ah, no. He was the date of the girl who made out with my date. We had ourselves a good laugh afterwards, holding tissues to each other’s bloody noses. Good bonding, that was.”
“May I suggest you not start a fight so you can bond with Mr. Jones?”
“No promises.” She stomped to the front door, but when her hand rested on the knob, she froze. Anxiety flooded her, and she shifted uncomfortably on her feet. When was the last time she was this nervous? Never, that’s when, so why did a date with a sexy ass man like Timothy Jones make her chest seize up and her feet refuse to move?
Cheryl clucked her tongue at her. “You’ll be fine. Worst-case scenario, today is a bust and you get to see him only as a victim.”
“Or it goes badly and I get to arrest him,” she muttered. Cheryl gave a martyred sigh and opened the door around Chris. “All right, I’m going. Don’t you touch anything in my apartment while I’m gone.”
“I never said I would touch anything. Adding a few pieces, that has come to mind.”
“Cheryl!”
“What? If all goes well and you want to bring him back here, where are you going to enjoy a nice steamy make-out session? Not in that piece of crap recliner. Now scoot!” She shoved Chris out of her own apartment and locked the door behind her.
“I have keys, you know,” she called through the door.
“You try it and you’ll find out where Merriweather learned his stern look!”
Chris tugged her jacket on and left her building. Her helmet secured on her head, she revved her bike and pulled out into traffic. The holiday weekend increased the number of people out, but she didn’t mind, weaving in and out of cars with ease as she had since she was sixteen. The café Tim suggested was located not far from her place, on a street corner near where some of the Memorial Day festivities were taking place. She enjoyed people-watching and wondered if he did too. She parked the bike along the curb, able to slip into a tiny space, and spied a red Mustang parked farther down the street. Tim had told her what he drove and she heard her name called over the noise of the street crowd.
“Chris!”
She turned off her bike and removed her helmet. Tim strode down the sidewalk towards her, and the heated gaze he shot her as she straddled her bike warmed her to her toes. An answering heat pooled in her belly, and words of greeting caught in her throat. For a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, Chris suddenly wished they were anywhere but at a public café. He clearly wanted her, and she could think of no better way to pass a few hours than with him holding her close as they kissed the day away. A hunger grew on his face, and his hands twitched at his sides as he drew nearer. The idea of her hopping off her bike and kissing him fiercely sounded grand until a horn honked nearby and the moment was gone.
Attaching her helmet to the bike with a lock, she closed the distance between them. “Hey.”
“Hi,” he replied. “I reserved a table out on the patio. I hope that’s all right.”
“The patio, huh?”
“Yes. I’m a bit of a people watcher, I’m afraid, and with the festival, this should be a good day for it.”
Chris watched the crowd around them and the booths farther down the road. There were certainly enough people to entertain her for a while in case this coffee date went south. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone in that hobby.”
Together, they entered the café and were led out to the fenced-in patio. Chris ordered a simple cup of coffee with creamer and Tim settled for the same. Their drinks were brought out a few minutes later, and as she dumped her usual three sugar packets into her coffee, Tim watched, amused.
“Did you want some coffee with your sugar?”
She paused, ready to pour the creamer into her coffee, and huffed. “Habit. Station coffee isn’t the greatest.” She finished pouring the creamer and stirred her coffee, lifting an eyebrow when Tim dumped nearly as much creamer as she had sugar into his coffee. “Coffee with your creamer?”
He shrugged. “I will admit, I would rather have the creamer taste than the coffee taste.”
“Then why drink coffee at all?”
“Caffeine, and those energy drinks taste like shit.”
“I’ll drink to that,” she agr
eed, lifting her mug to sip her coffee. “So, why investing?”
“My dad did it, or at least he worked under another man at a company here in Boston,” Tim told her, watching people pass on the other side of the railing. “He always dreamt of running his own firm and making breakthroughs in how his clients were able to invest their money. He and my mom died in a plane crash before he was able to achieve his dream, though.”
Chris frowned to learn of his loss. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s all right. It happened years ago. My parents saved up a small fortune, though, without me even realizing it and left it to me to start what my dad had a feeling he would never be able to.” He smiled softly, and Chris’ heart fluttered at the sight of this relaxed side of him. “I took what they left me, found some people I convinced to follow me blindly into the future, and we started my company.”
“Quite a tale,” she said. “And now you’re a billionaire.”
“Barely,” he corrected with a mocking laugh. “I crossed that mile marker this year, but it looks like I might not get to keep it.”
“It’s a bit early to be worried.”
“I’m glad you have so much faith in this investigation,” he told her. “I’ll admit, I feel like I’ve finally gotten everything I wanted and it’s about to fall out from under me.”
“Everything you wanted?” she questioned, the pool of heat low in her belly growing again.
“I misspoke,” he corrected and his hand reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers. “Nearly everything I wanted.”
Chris left her hand there, resting against his, enjoying the sensation of a man’s skin so close and not simply out of comfort, but out of want. Four long years had passed since she’d been intimate with a man. Cheryl was right. How had she lasted this long without going crazy? The few times she was with Tim before, she’d spoken only about the case and did not let herself feel anything for him. But she had been practically given permission to fornicate with him, and she couldn’t get the idea out of her head. Tim was a well-built man, tall and lean, and solid muscle rippled beneath his tight t-shirt every time he shifted. Her mind wandered, imagining what a night in bed with him might be like.
“What about you?” Tim asked, his hand remaining close to hers.
“About me what?”
“Do you have any family in Boston?”
“No. I was an orphan from the beginning, along with my brother,” she told him. “He’s in the military, and I maybe see him once a year if I’m lucky, but it’s all right. We’ve never been close.”
“There’s no one else?”
“Well, the other detectives and officers, they’ve been my family since I joined the academy all those long years ago.” Her chest warmed thinking of her unofficial relatives and how close they’d become over the years, especially Sarge and his wife. She wasn’t sure what she would do without them.
“It’s good you have them.”
“Yeah, it is.” Jeff’s face came to mind, but she shook her head hard, turning the conversation towards other things about his work and why he enjoyed it as much as he seemed to.
They talked through two more cups of coffee, the caffeine not the reason Chris’ heart hammered in her chest or why her hand shook each time she lifted her mug. Being with Tim was nothing like being with Jeff, yet she was happy sitting out in the sun with him across from her. She laughed as she hadn’t in so long and it felt good. Better than good. The grief clinging to her like a second skin peeled away with each passing minute, and when he asked if she wanted to stroll through the festival, she jumped at the chance to spend more time with him.
Their hands brushed against each other as they strolled through the booths. They stopped at a shooting game, and he offered her the toy gun.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Go on, I want to see how good a shot Detective Chris Harrison is.”
She took the toy and lined it up with the ducks moving across the backrow. “What do I win if I hit them all?”
“Your choice,” he said, resting his hip against the counter beside her. “Dinner or lunch.”
“Oh? With who?”
“Yours truly, of course,” he said with a wink that made butterflies erupt in her belly.
“Deal.” She gave a dollar to the man behind the counter, lifted the toy gun to her eye, and fired. The ducks fell one after the other until none remained standing. When she had finished, she laid the gun on the counter and thanked the man when he handed her a stuffed teddy bear with red, white, and blue fur. “What did you think of that? Impressive?” she asked, handing the bear to Tim.
“You could say that,” he murmured, accepting the bear. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Would you like another?”
He offered her his arm, and she slipped her hand around his elbow as he led her away from the booth. “I think I’m happy with both my prizes today.”
“A prize,” she mused. “Interesting word for it.”
“That’s what it feels like, being able to have a date with you, the hard-ass, stubborn detective.”
“Stubborn? I never said I was stubborn.”
He leaned into her a bit, lowering his mouth closer to her ear. “You have a look about you. I know it well since I’m probably more stubborn than you.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
She stayed by his side as they walked down one side of booths, laughing and eating funnel cakes and corndogs before meandering down the other side and finally back to the café. Chris would never live it down when she told Cheryl how much fun today was, and how liberating. When they reached her bike parked on the curb, he held her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Chris felt she should say something, but the words wouldn’t come. He stepped closer, staring deeply into her eyes as he leaned down. Her breath caught and her gaze darted to his lips. She would mess this up, she knew it, but when his lips met hers, it was as if she’d never left the world of intimacy behind. Her hand reached up around his neck, dragging him to her as their lips moved in a rushed dance of fire and desire. She sighed against his mouth and forced herself to take a breath and step backwards.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “if that was too forward.”
“No, no…it was…uh, it was nice, really.” She smiled nervously up at him. “It’s been a while, is all, since I’ve done this.”
“What, dated?”
“Dated and kissed,” she added. “But I would not be opposed to the dinner you offered.”
He bowed his head to her and lifted her hand to his lips. “I’ll be sure to come up with something interesting. Until Monday?”
“Until Monday.”
She watched him step back, carrying the teddy bear she’d won for him, and move towards the street. She pulled her helmet free and placed it on her head, unable to tear her gaze from Tim as he wound his way through the crowd to his Mustang. He had the keys in hand when the revving of another engine drew Chris’ gaze. She stepped away from her bike as a car at the other end of the street swerved away from the curb and aimed straight for Tim. Chris yelled his name as she sprinted across the road, praying she would get there in time. Tim glanced up as the car surged forward. Chris tackled him to the curb just as the car slammed into his driver’s side door. Her head hit the sidewalk, but her helmet took most of the blow.
“Tim,” she yelled, sitting them up, “are you all right?”
His eyes wide, he stared at her in shock. “What…what was that?”
“Stay right here, you hear me? Do not move!”
The car reversed, tires squealing as it backed away from Tim’s ruined Mustang. Her cell phone in hand, she dialed Merriweather as she ran back across the road. “Sarge, someone just tried to kill Tim. I’m following the car.”
“What? Chris, slow down,” he yelled, but she rattled off the part of the plate she spied before the car disappeared around the corner.
“Shit.”
; Tim called after her, but she ignored him, tucking her cell into her pocket, and hopped onto her bike. She spun it around, burning rubber, and took off after the car. She sped down the road, struggling to keep the black two-door in her sights. It nearly crashed several times, and she dodged other vehicles and taxis. If she could see a face, see who was inside, the person who tried to kill Tim… this was supposed to be an embezzlement case. Clearly there was much more to it than that, and she kicked herself for not seeing it sooner.
The car veered right at the next intersection and she switched gears, speeding up to zoom around a truck to try and make the same turn, but another car cut in front of her. She slammed on the brake, nearly toppling over. She slammed her hand on the hood of the car blocking her way and drove around them, throwing curses as she scanned the street, searching for the car. She reached the next intersection and pulled off to the side, parking her bike.
The car was gone and with it, the person who clearly wanted Tim not only robbed of his money, but his life, too. Her cell rang shrilly in her pocket. “Harrison.”
“Chris? You all right? I’m getting reports all over the city about a bike chasing a car.”
“Yeah, I’m fine, but I lost him, Sarge.”
“We’ll find him, Harrison. Right now, get your ass back to Tim. The game just changed.”
“Anything on the plates?”
“Stolen,” he reported. “Go find him, Chris, and bring him to the station. We have to get a handle on this new situation before it gets any worse.”
She hung up, replaced her helmet, and turned her bike around to drive back to Tim. Flashing lights filled the street, and Tim was talking to a few police officers standing by his totaled Mustang. The front was mangled and smashed in from the hit. Chris parked her bike behind the wreck and pulled her helmet off quickly.
“Chris!” He rushed over to her and pulled her into his strong arms. At first, she flinched, but then she relaxed into his embrace.
“Are you all right?” she asked, leaning back from him. His arm was scraped from where it hit the sidewalk, but other than that, he appeared fine—shaken up, but physically fine. “Tim?”