“Avie -- ”
“Take it, and I’ll shut up.”
“Aim and squeeze the trigger?”
“That’s it.”
Okie-dokie, then.
We’d made it as far as the convention center when the sky cracked open, pelting us with big fat droplets that were soon replaced by driving sheets of rain. Since it simply doesn’t rain in southern California in October, neither of us had an umbrella and we were soaked in under ten seconds. The office was still two blocks away, so we ducked into the convention center to wait out the cloudburst. The outside of the arena is covered with the world’s largest mural, Planet Ocean, by the famous marine artist Wyland. Inside, however, it’s a plain old convention center. Crowded, smelly and damp. And for some reason, filled to the gills with cops.
And me with an illegal weapon in my purse. Swell.
I turned to leave. Avie stopped me. “Just wait’ll it lets up. We can be late to the party. You’re the guest of honor, for pete’s sake.”
“I don’t care about the damn party,” I hissed, and she looked hurt, so I apologized and went on. “I’m worried about every cop in California milling around while I’m carrying a gun I don’t have a permit for and don’t have a clue how to use.”
“I told you, aim and squeeze the trigger.”
“Don’t tempt me, Av,” I snarled.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Thor, stop being such a baby. We’re standing in the lobby of a convention center, not trying to board a plane. I don’t think a cavity search is in your future.” Avie paused and looked past me for a second, then looked back at me with a huge grin. “But if you play your cards right...”
“Excuse me?
“There’s a gorgeous guy over by the registration table checking you out.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes and looked down at myself. Soaked cargo pants with too many pockets, a soaked white V-neck tee from Old Navy and a soaked pale blue cardigan I’d had since the turn of the millennium. Not exactly a come-hither outfit. Plus, I’m a little too tall and a little too gangly. With the exception of my husband, whose standards consisted solely of conscious, gorgeous guys were not in the habit of checking me out. I wouldn’t say I’m ugly, but compared to my five-foot, two-inch perfectly proportioned swan of a sister, I’m a giant five-foot, ten-inch duck. Still, hope springs eternal I guess, and I ran my tongue over my teeth to make sure I didn’t have any pizza remnants lurking anywhere, then popped a breath mint just for good measure.
“Here he comes,” Avie whispered. “Give me your ring.” I grimaced, thinking how tacky that seemed, but I yanked it off and she slipped it on, suddenly “remembering” an urgent call she had to make. She punched a number into her cell phone and turned to look out at the rain.
I spun around to see who merited all this excitement, and I smashed right into a broad, hard-muscled chest. I bounced backwards, lost my balance, dropped my bag and watched as the contents spilled out – in slow motion, naturally – and came to rest at Officer Biceps’ feet. I stood staring open-mouthed at the mess, wondering how on earth I was going to scoop up seven tampons with any shred of dignity. Jake seemed a little more interested in the gun than in my feminine hygiene products.
“Must be Destiny,” Jake said with a lazy, sexy smile that lit up those cool gray eyes, and I swear, my knees went weak. Didn’t matter that I’d heard that stupid line a thousand times before. I told myself the knee wobble had as much to do with the fear of imminent incarceration as it did animal lust.
Yeah, right.
I muttered a string of random syllables and bent to retrieve my belongings. Avie had sidled off, keeping an eye on the proceedings but leaving me to fend for myself in the carrying-a-concealed-weapon department. I never did understand why my parents insisted on having her. I got my wallet and pens and tampons and breath mints back into the purse and was studiously ignoring the gun. Jake had squatted down next to me and seemed to be enjoying my embarrassment.
“Good birthday so far?”
Oh, sure. Extreme Makeover wouldn’t be able to get rid of the circles under my eyes. I’m drenched all the way down to my underwear. I’m going to go to jail for an illegal weapons violation, and I’ll probably be Big Bertha’s bitch by morning. Doesn’t get much better than that.
“Swell. You?”
“Yeah, cop conventions are a real blast. Thank god it’s finally over.” He glanced at his watch. “I am officially on vacation for the next eighty-six hours. You work here at the convention center?” he asked, brushing a damp curl off my forehead and sending a tremor down my spine and through my belly. Holy crap.
I angled my head in the direction of the office and tried not to hyperventilate. “Couple blocks down. Just stopped to get out of the downpour.”
Jake followed my gaze, absently picking up the gun. “Guess you were right about the rain. Doesn’t look like it’s going to stop any time soon, either.” He emptied all the bullets out – I’m not sure how he did that – then he pocketed the ammo and slipped the gun back into my purse with a wry smile. Then he zipped the purse closed. Dammit! Why hadn’t I thought of that?
“You can’t be sure with these freak storms. It’ll probably let up any minute.”
“Nah,” he said, giving me a horny grin and a bedroom voice. “It could easily last all night.”
I groaned. “That’s the lamest line I’ve heard all day.”
“What?” He made a who, me? face, and I rolled my eyes. “I was talking about the storm. You big-city girls evidently have dirty minds. Either that, or you really want me.”
“Wow, you’re onto me. Actually, I’ve been stalking you all day, waiting for the perfect moment to make my move.”
“Yeah, I have that effect on women.” He smirked. “Most of them don’t hurl loaded weapons or personal products at me, though. That was original. And very smooth.”
Darn. I was hoping he hadn’t noticed the tampons.
“Hi, I’m Avie, Destiny’s sister,” Avie said then, extending her hand, and I got ready to feel invisible. It’s not her fault. Besides having the petite dancer body, she has exotic green eyes and wavy auburn tresses. I have the damn black circles and rain-induced frizz.
Jake shook her hand and gave her a warm smile. “Jake. It’s nice to meet you.”
He looked back at me, and I didn’t feel invisible after all. Probably it was some hormonal thing having to do with turning thirty, but I had to restrain myself from jumping him there in the lobby of the convention center with a bazillion cops and my little sister watching.
“Well, uh, see ya,” I stammered, backing away before I did something that would make attacking him with tampons seem like small potatoes in the quest to embarrass myself to death.
“Wait a sec,” Jake said, “I got you something.” He made it back to the registration table in two long strides, returning with a little brown bag. “Happy birthday.”
I peeked in the bag. Half a cranberry muffin. Avie was doing the tennis match thing, looking from Jake to me and back to Jake. She had one eyebrow raised in a question mark. “You know each other?”
Jake nodded. “We go way back.” Then to me, he said, “There was one left in the hotel coffee shop at lunch time. I saved you half.”
“Thank – ” I began.
As if I couldn’t humiliate myself enough without her help, Avie interrupted with, “Hypothetically speaking, if a woman suspected her husband might be planning to kill her, what should she do?” I thought maybe the hypothetical woman should smack her sister upside the head. Might not help with the husband situation, but I was pretty sure it would improve her mood.
“Does this hypothetical woman have any evidence?”
“Maybe I was adopted,” I muttered to myself.
Avie ignored me. “Say she overhead the husband telling his mistress he was going to get rid of her.”
“Unfortunately, men tell their mistresses that all the time. It doesn’t usually mean anything. Unless the guy’s actually done someth
ing, or at least made some overt threat, there’s really nothing the police can do.” He softened his voice. “But there are other places you can go for help.”
“Jeez, I’m not the hypothetical woman,” Avie exclaimed, insulted. “I was just curious.” Then she flounced away.
I gave him a palms-up gesture. “She was a crack baby.” He smiled, and I went on, “So, why’d you save me half a muffin?”
“I’m a nice guy.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
He grinned the cocky grin. “I knew you’d be back. I told you, I have that effect on women.”
I was overcome by opposing urges, one to rip his uniform off and act out the pornographic fantasy, the other to knee him in the groin for being so damn arrogant. I took the muffin and turned to leave before I succumbed to either urge.
“Don’t let the name fool you. I don’t believe in fate,” I said over my shoulder, stepping out into the deluge.
“Me, neither,” I heard him say just before the door slammed shut.
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