by Wendy Haley
You’re doomed, whispered his cynical policeman’s mind.
And then another voice surfaced, a laughing rogue of a voice that spilled like quicksilver through his brain. But what a way to go, it said.
Oh, yeah.
Chapter 3
Rae slipped one fingernail between the slats of the miniblind and peered outside. Gabriel leaned against the fender of a dark blue Taurus parked a short way down the street. He held an open newspaper, but she knew he was watching her building in his side-view mirror.
“The Angel Gabriel himself,” she muttered. “My very own guardian angel.”
She let her breath out with a hiss of cynical laughter. If there were anything angelic about Gabriel MacLaren, she’d eat her desk. She’d checked him out, of course. Thirty-five years old, sixteen years on the force, a slow of commendations and an impressive arrest record.
He’d never been married.
“Probably hates women,” she said, cataloging in minute detail the way his black T-shirt followed the ridged musculature of his back, not to mention the battered jeans that clung to his long, strong legs and outlined the nicest—
“Whoa, girl,” she murmured, catching that thought before it quite began.
Sunlight glinted off glass as he adjusted his side-view mirror. Very diligent, Detective MacLaren. She’d spotted him the moment she’d stepped out of her apartment building this morning, of course. A rueful smile curved her lips. If she’d been blind, her personal radar would have homed in on him instantly.
Gabriel MacLaren had made an impression. Definitely. She’d hoped a good night’s sleep would have rid her of him, but he’d taken over her dreams. Torrid dreams, dreams full of sensuality hotter than a summer storm. And yet, as wild as that passion bad been, those dreams had been laced with something sweet and tender, something she wished were real.
“Might as well ask for the moon,” she told herself. “Reality is that he walks and talks and breathes police work, and doesn’t even notice the string of broken hearts he leaves in his wake.”
She raised her voice, although there was no way he could possibly hear her. “And you’ve got nothing better to do than to follow Rae Ann Boudreau.”
He laid the paper aside and stretched. Oh, boy. He looked as lazily masculine as a panther, and as dangerous. Rae wanted to drop one wing and run in circles.
“This isn’t good,” she said. “Not good at all. I don’t like cops. I don’t trust cops. I never, ever date cops.”
Sure. That’s why she stood here with her insides surging with pure female reaction to him. She let her breath out in a sigh of frustration. Life had been simple until last night.
She shot a glance at her computer monitor, which displayed her favorite screen saver, a boldly lettered logo that read I Am Lobo, I Hunt Alone.
“Alone” had felt good. She had her profession, which was challenging, fun and sometimes downright exciting. She had a few good friends with whom to spend her free time. Well, maybe there hadn’t been all that much free time. But she’d been happy. Well, she amended again, she’d been content. Something had been missing.
Surely, though, that something couldn‘t—absolutely, positively couldn’t—be Gabriel MacLaren.
“Go away,” she said, glaring down at him.
Of course, he didn’t. Rae let the blind slip back into place and turned away from the window. Her office was her home, more so than the apartment in which she spent so little time. She’d grown fond of the big, spacious room that held her desk, filing cabinets, a pair of big, comfy armchairs and a battered sofa on which she’d slept many a night. And, of course, the all-important computer. Plants had not survived her inattention, so out of kindness she’d decided to leave green things to those more suited to them.
Domestic, she was not. But she was a good process server, and had built a successful business. Rae Ann always got her man.
Corny, but true.
She dropped into one of the armchairs and propped both feet on her desk while she considered the situation. She could go about her business, letting Gabriel follow if he so desired. But she couldn’t. Rae Ann Boudreau always did something.
“Now, Detective,” she murmured, “what will I do with you today? What will you absolutely, completely loathe?”
She tapped her bottom lip with her finger. A smile curved her mouth as she got her best idea of the week.
“You are too cruel, Rae Ann,” she said with a laugh.
A few minutes later, she stepped out into the sunlight. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she scanned up and down the street. The Taurus was still there, but Gabriel had disappeared. He was good; she’d have to give him that.
She strolled toward the business district, stopping to peer in every store window she passed. As she passed Mr. Fedderman’s flower shop, she couldn’t resist buying a great big bouquet of fresh flowers from the sidewalk stand.
“Hello, Rae Ann,” the florist said, wrapping the blooms in slick green paper.
“Hi, Mr. Fedderman,” she replied. “I bet you never expected to see me buy anything living again.”
“After you killed the poor ivy, no. But the cut flowers will die anyway, so I am not committing a crime by selling them to you.”
Rae laughed. “If you think I’m dangerous around plants, you ought to taste my cooking.”
“So tough,” he murmured. “Don’t you get tired of buying your own flowers?”
She’d never been able to convince Mr. Fedderman that she didn’t want another husband. “No,” she said. “Have a good day, Mr. Fedderman.”
She turned away, juggling flowers as she tried to put her wallet back in her purse. Then she caught sight of her reflection in the store window and stopped. She looked...prettier somehow, the lines of her face softened by the flowers beneath her chin.
Then she caught sight of Gabriel MacLaren’s reflection over her shoulder. He stared at her with heavy-lidded eyes, and his expression held such hunger that her knees went weak for a moment.
It wasn’t simply desire. No, this was much more. A strange, unexpected wistfulness tempered the desire in his eyes, gentled it and made it infinitely more compelling.
“Oh, Lord,” she whispered, turning away so abruptly that the reflection of the flowers blurred to an indefinable jumble of color.
Sternly telling herself that this was no time to get flustered, she slowed down to a seemingly casual pace. Gabriel stuck right with her. On impulse, she turned and entered the gleaming brass-and-glass luxury of Gaylord’s, the city’s swankiest department store.
A glimpse in a nearby mirror showed Gabriel nearly getting himself run down in his haste to follow her. She didn’t blame him; this would be the perfect place in which to lose a tail.
If she’d wanted to.
She moseyed along the perfume counter, pausing to test a scent that cost more per ounce than she made in a day. She glanced in the mirror to catch Gabriel’s reflection.
Judging from his expression, he didn’t like to shop. She smiled. “We’re going to have lots and lots of fun, Detective,” she murmured.
She went from department to department, browsing, stopping frequently to try something on. An hour passed, then another. By the time she hit the lingerie department, Gabriel looked as though he were ready to strangle someone. Probably her.
A cream-colored nightgown caught her attention. Rich, understated, sexy, it was more lace than otherwise. Rae had never been one for fancy lingerie. Her taste leaned toward nice, big T-shirts. But this gown was pure sin.
She couldn’t afford the nightgown. She couldn’t afford Gabriel MacLaren, either. Still, she couldn’t help a bit of wistfulness over them both.
A long arm reached past her and plucked the nightgown from the rack. “Buy the damned thing,” Gabriel growled in her ear. “Hell, I’ll buy it for you if you’ll just stop this nonsense.”
Rae turned. And found herself almost nose to nose with one very annoyed vice cop. Her nostrils flared as she registered his impact down to her soul
. He smelled of soap and mint and what was inimically MacLaren. If he’d walked up to her in pitch darkness, she would have known him.
This was bad.
She couldn’t let him know how he affected her. “Why, Detective MacLaren, what a surprise—”
“Bull,” he said. “You spotted me an hour ago.”
She smiled. “Actually, I spotted you the moment I walked out of my apartment building.”
His eyes narrowed. “I want to talk to you.”
“Why?” she inquired, all innocence.
“Don’t play that game with me,” he snarled.
Gently, Rae took the nightgown from him. “You’re crushing the merchandise.”
“So buy it and let’s get out of here.”
She turned and hung it back on the rack. “It’s three hundred dollars. I’ll be too old to wear it by the time I can afford to pay for it.”
“Now, that,” he murmured, “would be a shame.”
Astonished, she looked up at him. His eyes had turned crystalline and hot. Obviously, he was imagining her in that almost-transparent confection. Danger signals went up all through her mind, but her body didn’t listen. Arousal pooled warm and heavy at her core.
“What do you want, Detective?” she asked.
The moment the words were out, she realized how they’d sound. She blushed. She hadn’t blushed in at least ten years. Gabriel MacLaren was definitely getting to her.
To give him credit, he didn’t take the opening. Instead, he grasped her by the arm and turned her toward the staircase.
“Call me MacLaren,” he said. “Or Gabriel.”
She made an unsuccessful attempt to pull her arm out of his grasp. “I don’t know if I want to get that personal,” she said.
Before she could reply, he swung her around to face him. They stood so close that their chests were almost touching. Rae had to make a conscious effort not to lean toward him.
“You don’t know if you don’t,” he said.
“What?”
“Get personal.”
Rae looked into his eyes. It felt as though she were falling off a cliff. No man had ever looked at her like that, ever. Oh, MacLaren was still plenty annoyed with her. But beneath the irritation lay a desire as hot and primitive as a desert storm.
It should have frightened her. After all, she knew cops. And this one had a streak of cynicism a mile wide. She’d been there, done that. And she had a failed marriage to prove it. She had no business being tempted by any cop, especially this one.
But she was. Despite caution. Despite experience. Despite everything, she was tempted. No, no and no. Definitely.
“I’m really busy today, Detective,” she said, meeting his gaze levelly. “And I’ve already wasted most of it leading you around. So, if you don’t mind—”
“I do mind,” he replied with infuriating coolness. “I want to talk to you. Now.”
She studied him from beneath her lashes. He was an arrogant so-and-so. He was playing with her. And enjoying it.
Somehow, she had to find a handle on this. On herself. She had to learn not to react, or at least to make him react more. Definitely a challenge. Suddenly, she smiled, and a heady thrill of recklessness shot through her. She’d always enjoyed a challenge.
Tilting her head back, she looked straight into his eyes.
“Are you going to handcuff me?” she asked softly.
“No.” After a moment, he smiled. “At least, not yet.”
He steered her out of the store. Still riding that wave of recklessness, Rae let him.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Lunch.”
She hadn’t expected lunch. The rational part of her mind gave a hoot of cynical laughter. What did you expect, twit? To be beaten with a rubber hose?
His eyes were crystal clear and guileless in the sunlight as he walked along with his distinctive male-tiger stride. Her heart revved, and not from the effort of keeping up with those long legs.
He led her to a tiny, dark cubbyhole of a deli named simply Doukas. Behind the counter stood a vast hulk of a man, a man who was tall and wide and sprouted a mustache that looked as though it might flap right off his craggy face.
“Hey, Gabriel,” he called, his pure, sweet tenor a startling contrast to his appearance. His gaze shifted to Rae. “Wow.”
“Mike, Rae,” Gabriel said. “Rae, Mike.”
“Graceful introduction,” Mike countered. “Pleased to meet you, Rae.”
She reached over the counter to shake hands. His grip was firm, but gauged to accommodate her smaller hands. Rae liked him; so many guys tended toward limp hands, which she hated, or grips calculated deliberately to hurt, which she hated even more.
“Mike’s known me since I was young and stupid,” Gabriel said.
“Yeah?” Mike retorted. “You might not be so young any more, but you’re just as stupid as ever.”
“There’s no time limit on stupid,” Rae added, diving right in.
With a flourish, Mike took an enormous cleaver from a nearby rack and began to chop meat. “Yeah, but the majority of people at least learn to hide it.”
Gabriel snorted. “Sure. And most people learn not to put chopped jalapeno peppers on smoked turkey—”
“Hey!” Mike yelped.
“Hot jalapenos,” Gabriel said. “On that obnoxious city inspector’s sandwich—”
“Hah!” Mike brandished the cleaver, sending wicked flashes of light skittering around the room. “Could I help it? I thought it was pickle relish.”
They all exchanged glances. Rae was the first to laugh, but the men joined her a heartbeat later. A customer came in, took one look at the cleaver and quickly ducked out again.
Beneath the laughter, Gabriel found himself watching Rae. Most of the women he’d brought around had been intimidated by Mike’s size and boisterousness, but Rae had joined their repartee as though she’d been doing it for years. Gabriel didn’t think much intimidated Rae Ann Boudreau. He admired her for it.
“I’ve got to know,” Rae gasped. “Did you pass inspection that day?”
“Heck, yeah. You don’t think I gave him that sandwich before he passed me, do you?”
That set Rae off again. She reached blindly behind her for a chair. “Oh, boy,” she gasped.
Retrieving some measure of control, she scrubbed the tears away with her sleeve. Only then did she register Gabriel’s laugh. It was a great laugh, deep and rich and full of joy. She wouldn’t have believed the tough, cynical vice cop had it in him. The sound raced through her like hot wine, setting up a matching resonance deep in her body.
She studied him from beneath her lashes. He was much man, she thought, her gaze drifting to his mouth, then lower to the clean, strong line of his neck. She wanted to press her open mouth there, right there where the pulse beat beneath the skin.
He stopped laughing suddenly, and she knew he’d noticed her watching him. Look away, you fool! But she couldn’t. Amusement drained from his eyes, leaving her gaze impaled on pure desire. Hot. Raw. Powerful. And yet it was tempered with that same tenderness she’d glimpsed before, making it more compelling than simple passion could ever be.
Heat rolled through her until she thought her very bones would melt. She was glad for the solid support of the chair beneath her; it wouldn’t do for tough, independent Rae Ann Boudreau to sink to the floor like a jellyfish.
Then Mike cleared his throat, giving her a welcome respite. “So, tell me, beautiful lady,” he said, jabbing his thumb in Gabriel’s direction. “What are you doing with him?”
“He arrested me,” she replied.
Mike snorted. “That’s how he gets all his dates.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Rae said.
“It’s only fair to warn you,” Mike began, winking at the detective. “He’s got a lot of faults, even for a cop. I could tell you stories—”
“Hey,” Gabriel protested. “You promised you wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone.”
“Horrible,” Mike said, grinning fiendishly. “You’d run screaming before I got to the really bad stuff.”
Rae gave a mock shiver. “Ooh. Should I be afraid?”
“Terrified,” both men said in unison.
“Mmm. Then you’d better feed me. I do terror best on a full stomach.”
Mike swept the cleaver in an expansive arc. “Anything you want, beautiful lady.”
“Roast beef on wheat,” she said, adding after a pause, “No relish.”
Both men snickered. With a jolt, Rae realized that she was having fun. With Detective Gabriel MacLaren. This shouldn’t be happening, she thought, even as her heart began to pound. Anything but this. If she didn’t watch herself, she’d start to like him.
That would be bad.
“What about you, Gabriel?” Mike asked. “You want the usual, or are you gonna try something new for a change?”
Gabriel raised his hand in a warning gesture. “Uh-uh. You’ve experimented on me enough. I’m sticking with the usual. And two cups of coffee, please.”
Rae wanted coffee. But she didn’t want coffee if Gabriel wanted her to have it. Absurd, yes. Still, she had the strongest feeling that she’d be giving something up by letting him make any decisions for her, even one so simple. Gabriel MacLaren was rather like a force of nature; if she didn’t hold tightly to herself, he’d sweep her up and whirl her away.
“I’d rather have iced tea, if you’ve got it,” she said.
She shot a glance at Gabriel. He met her gaze squarely, a cynical half smile curving his hard-cut mouth. He knew what she was thinking, and knew why she was thinking it.
With an effort, she pulled her gaze away. And found Mike watching them both with an I-know-what’s-going-on-here expression on his broad face.
“You do not,” she said.
He didn’t even try to pretend to misunderstand. “Do, too.”
“Do not.”
“Do, too.”
“What the hell?” Gabriel asked.
Mike smiled at Rae. “See? I told you he wasn’t all that bright. But he’ll figure things out eventually.”
With swift, economical movements, Mike wrapped the sandwiches and thrust them into a large white bag with Brenda’s Hairstyling blazoned in pink across the front.