Silk, Lace & Videotape

by Joanne Rock

  Resolute, she stepped back, away from the temptation of his touch.

  He shook his head as if he didn’t believe a word she’d said. “Come on, Amanda, admit it. You want to take a few risks.”

  “Maybe,” she admitted. “But not risks as dangerous as you.”

  His smoky 2:00 a.m. voice rolled right through her. “Then what about the window?”

  She blinked past the sensual fog, thinking she must have lost a thread in their conversation. “What?”

  He edged closer, his proximity far more threatening to her than any fashion critic had ever been. “The window you designed at your father’s showroom. It’s been telling me all about the risks you want to take these last few weeks.”

  Fire fanned in her belly as she thought of the mannequin swathed in yellow silk, dancing to the street music while her skirt fanned around her legs in a provocative swirl.

  The woman in the window was captivated by life, unintimidated by the man in the starry tie who watched her.

  Lexi had warned her that a New York police detective didn’t miss a thing.

  Amanda had designed award-winning displays for years without her father ever once commenting on their artistry or discussing a possible interpretation for her various vignettes.

  Yet Duke’s shrewd eye had seen right through to her heart in that window.

  “One more date, Amanda,” Duke urged, his chest looming inches from her. “One more chance to see what we could be like together.”

  Amanda’s pulse pounded the answer toward her lips, urging the words of agreement to her mouth. But this time, she would be in charge and she was calling the shots. She’d be the first to walk away this time, because no way would she let him leave her again.

  She wanted this man, but on her terms.

  He made her feel risky, and uninhibited, and—curse his gorgeous hide—he even made her stockings start to slip.

  11

  TENSION GRIPPED Duke so hard he couldn’t muster the good cop charm to save his skin. Weeks ago, between Battery Park and the zoo, Amanda Matthews had become important to him. And no matter how much he tried to leave her alone, to run in the opposite direction, she continued to be important to him.

  He would deal with the fallout of her father’s criminal ties later. For now, he knew his granddaddy’s thunderbolts wouldn’t quit until he’d made things right with Amanda. Without her, his luck had run out, his bed was painfully empty and his finger twitched over the Play button every time he got within ten feet of his VCR.

  “What do you say? Can I take you out for dinner? Coffee?”

  She watched him, studied him as if he were a mannequin she didn’t quite know how to dress.

  Damn it, he was prepared to do things right this time, to be a romantic kind of guy and stay out of her bed until she was really ready. “When was the last time you saw the other side of the East River, Amanda? I know a great seafood place near my house in Brooklyn.”

  He watched her brown eyes dance about, not quite knowing where to look.

  Then, as if by magic, or some welcome stroke of his former good luck, she started nodding.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” As if of their own will, his hands gripped hers a little more roughly than he’d intended, nudging her forward a step. He released her again, recalling their whereabouts and unwilling to make her regret her decision.

  But he noticed a smile play around her perfectly painted pink lips.

  Hot damn, but he couldn’t wait to lick off every bit of that cotton candy lipstick.

  When she was ready to let him, of course.

  “I’ll give us another chance, Duke, but on one condition.”

  He could respect a woman who knew how to negotiate. Nothing wrong with that. “Name it.”

  “We take it slow this time.”

  “Of course.” He said the words automatically, knowing only a total heel would suggest otherwise, but he was surprised at how much he genuinely meant them.

  She pursed her perfect pink lips. Damn, this would be a hard bargain to keep.

  She tapped her chin with her finger. “Because you did say the whole problem last time was that we proceeded too quickly?”

  Convicted by his own words. Maybe his luck was going to return in stages.

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “That was part of it.”

  Amanda folded her arms in a pose that would look very get-down-to-business if it wasn’t for the way those arms cradled her too-enticing breasts. “And what was the other part?”

  Duke scrambled to uphold his half of the conversation, refusing to tick her off after the weeks he’d spent looking for a way to win her back. “I thought you only went out with me because you were thrill-seeking. Some women get off on the whole cop thing.”

  Amanda’s eyebrows couldn’t have shot up any farther into her forehead. She stared at him a moment, wide eyed.

  Then, just as quickly, those same graceful brown eyebrows crouched down over her eyes with a look that made him stand up straighter.

  “You thought what?” Her tone of voice did an excellent job of conveying her mood—appalled, offended, definitely mad.

  “Some women are like that, Amanda,” he submitted in his defense. “I went out with a woman who was only interested in taking a walk on the wild side. When you said all that stuff over breakfast about how you like that I was a cop—it made me nervous.”

  She studied him, assessed him, weighed his words.

  Duke shuffled his feet, waiting for her verdict.

  Suddenly, she smiled. A happy, resplendent smile that gave him a tremendous sense of pride for helping to place it there.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” she announced, taking his words and boiling them down to a phrase that made him sound like a candidate for an Oprah show.

  But right now, he wasn’t about to argue with an agreeable Amanda.

  He edged closer, mindful of their public surroundings, yet wishing he could refresh her memory on the elements of their relationship that required no thinking, no fixing.

  But he would be a gentleman this time if it killed him. “So now that we’ve cleared that up, what do you say we blow this joint? I need to pick up my car at the police station, and then we can be on our way. Did you drive?”

  “Subway. Remember? It’s a weekday.” She hitched the strap of her purse up on her shoulder. “How about if I meet you later? You can finish your work and I’ll squeeze in another hour or two at the showroom today.”

  “I’m thinking I’d be insane to let you out of my sight after waiting this long for you to say yes to dinner. We’ll be there in ten minutes, tops.” He would wait to tell her he needed to stop off at his place to change afterward. No use giving her any more reason to flee.

  As she nodded, he steered her past a throng of reporters waiting for the verdict outside another courtroom. Angling his way toward the front door, he noticed how heads turned when she walked by.

  He felt the good cop charm returning, the lightness of spirit that had been missing in the weeks she’d been avoiding him. The smile he flashed her came easily because it flat-out felt so good to have her back by his side.

  She sighed, her steps falling into sync with his again as they pushed through the front doors and down the main steps. “Do you always get your way, Duke Rawlins?”

  “In this relationship, not half as often as you get yours.”

  Those sexy pink lips curved in a wicked grin.

  She looked both ways for traffic as they waited to cross the street. Cabs and buses flew by, and Duke barely noticed with his eyes glued to her.

  He tucked her closer to his side—he was being a gentleman after all—and guided her across the street to his car.

  Once again, he couldn’t help but notice how she caused heads to turn and people—men and women alike—to stare. Not that she was exactly a beauty queen, but something about the way she held herself, the way she wore her clothes, lent her a movie-star quality. She looke
d famous, like someone you should know from the tabloids, but couldn’t quite name.

  Just as he spied the unmarked, city-issued vehicle and wondered why Josh wasn’t there waiting for him, his cell phone rang.

  Duke answered it, unlocking the car door and holding it open for Amanda. “Rawlins.”

  “Hey man,” Josh’s voice shot across the wireless, “I got tied up in another case because Judge O’Hare isn’t in today.”

  Duke nodded, knowing they would wait for O’Hare to approve their warrants because of his well-deserved reputation as a cop-friendly judge. The request for warrants was good, but not rock-solid like they might need to be for another judge. “Is he there tomorrow?”

  “Supposed to be. I’ll be another hour or two here.”

  “I’m off the clock, then. I’ll drop the car off and see you in the morning.” Duke folded the phone and put it back in his pocket, happier than he’d ever been about waiting to make an arrest.

  Usually, he couldn’t wait to do his job, to keep the streets safe. Just this once, he’d rather let the crooks eat, drink and be merry for one more night if it meant Duke could have a few more hours with Amanda.

  Duke winked at her through the windshield as he crossed to the driver’s side. He didn’t know how things might work out between them, but he sure as hell wanted to give it a try.

  Amanda buckled her seat belt and waited as Duke slid into the car beside her. She couldn’t believe she’d just let him back into her life after the way he’d walked out of hers, but she tried to tell herself this time she knew what she was doing.

  Besides, she was having infinitely more fun watching Duke wrangle his broad, sexy shoulders in and out of police cars than she would be having at home.

  She’d forgotten how exciting it was just to be around him.

  He radiated energy and vitality, a thirst for adventure in life. For a woman who usually hid from life outside the studio, Duke seemed dangerous and at the same time, thrilling.

  Duke switched the ignition on, lighting up the car dashboard with gadgets and crime-busting wizardry.

  Fascinated, Amanda tracked the progress of flashing lights and intermittent beeps on the car’s computer screen.

  She shifted in her seat on the other side of the car. Two and a half feet separated them, but it could have been two and a half inches given the way her body shivered in anticipation of what might happen between them.

  Her bare thighs grazed one another above the hem of her gartered stockings, igniting a heated awareness of the man who sat so close to her.

  What would he think of her sexy getup if he uncovered the black satin garters teasing her legs?

  She hadn’t worn them for him, not really. Oh, she’d indulged in plenty of sexual fantasies involving Duke Rawlins over the last month. But when she’d slid the stockings up her legs this morning, she’d only been hoping to give herself enough confidence to make it through Victor’s hearing. Something about seductive undergarments had always made her feel self-assured.

  Except for the one time she hadn’t worn clothes over them.

  Smiling, Amanda thought back to the first time she’d met Duke. They were already pulling into the police station when she asked him a question that had teased her mind several times since then.

  “Do you mind if I ask if there is a significance to the star-themed clothes?”

  Duke stared across the console at her for a moment before he brushed idle fingers over his silver tiepin. “They’re lucky stars. Sort of an Old West lawman thing, I guess. Cops have always worn stars.”

  Amanda nodded her approval. “They suit you well.”

  Duke shrugged. “Never gave it much thought.”

  “Nevertheless, you have a distinctive fashion flair.”

  He jerked his thumb toward the station. “Don’t tell the guys, Amanda. They’d never let me live it down.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me.” The words tumbled from her lips, implying more than she’d intended. Images of pillow talk with Duke enticed, teased.

  His blue eyes lingered over hers.

  His hand snaked over the console to cup her cheek. Lightly, he brushed his fingertips over her skin. “We’ll just pick up the keys to my car and then we’re out of here, okay?”

  Not waiting for her consent, Duke slipped from the car and rounded the hood to open her door.

  Amanda used that moment to steady her emotions, to straighten her skewed skirt. She would not run away from this relationship. Not now. Too many times in the past she had taken the safest route out of personal relationships, had dodged commitments and confrontations by retreating back to her loft.

  Not this time.

  She planned to explore whatever it was she shared with Duke, to take charge of her personal life as resolutely as she confronted her professional goals.

  Chanting that mantra in her mind, Amanda allowed Duke to lead her into the police station. She couldn’t help but notice the possessive way he anchored her to his side as they navigated through the maze of desks and people.

  Everyone greeted them.

  Amanda didn’t know if that was because of Duke’s personal popularity or because the NYPD was just a very friendly place, but she found herself introduced to a dozen different people before Duke invited her to have a seat in his desk chair.

  As Duke disappeared into the depths of the police station, misgivings set in. Was she making a big mistake by agreeing to dinner?

  Should she just get it over with and tell him she wanted him for dinner and they could skip the seafood?

  In a vain attempt to distract herself from the sudden butterflies winging about her belly, Amanda tried to register the colorful swirl of her surroundings at Duke’s desk.

  Mets baseball cards formed a colorful place mat under a clear plastic desk protector, a postcard of Cincinnati taped on the side of his computer and a screen saver of John Wayne smoking a cigar in soldier’s garb filled the space.

  She’d barely taken it all in when a tall, uniformed officer plunked down in the chair beside her.

  A tall, female officer.

  “Hi, Ms. Matthews, I’m Rhonda Patterson.” The woman stuck out her hand and smiled. “We met briefly after Victor Gallagher’s arrest.”

  “Call me Amanda.” Amanda responded automatically. She shook the woman’s hand while recalling R. Patterson as the woman who had looked so strong and confident in her uniform while Amanda had cringed in her lingerie and trench coat.

  “I see you’ve already met Duke.” She pointed to the photo of John Wayne on the computer screen.

  Amanda wanted to thunk herself on the head for not seeing the connection sooner. “We were just starting to get acquainted.”

  “He’s not quite as charming as our Duke, but it beats a lot of the other guys’ screen savers.” She gestured around the desks with a broad sweep of her hand.

  Only then did Amanda notice the proliferation of pictures of women and guns on other people’s desktops. “I’d have to agree.”

  “I just wanted to let you know I loved the clothes you designed last fall. Are you going to come out with another collection this year?”

  Amanda stilled, her nerves about being with Duke quieted just a little. “You saw my clothes?”

  Rhonda smiled. “Not that I could afford any, but yeah, I saw them. I think all the days stuck in a uniform created an addiction to those cable fashion networks.”

  Pride fired through Amanda. She looked over the policewoman a little more carefully, now realizing the woman wore a designer original jacket over her uniform. Apparently the woman was on her way home for the night. “I wondered if anyone was watching those segments. I had to pay for the exposure, but I’d hoped it was worth it.”

  Rhonda picked up Duke’s stress ball off his desk and tossed it back and forth between her hands. “Well you won me over. Your father’s clothes are nice, but yours have a lot more youthful appeal. How long before you come out with something I can afford?”

  Amanda
fought the urge to fling her arms around the woman. She liked her clothes! Amanda had no idea whether or not she’d been making an impact with anyone outside of the Garment District with her small line of designs, but obviously she’d reached someone. This woman, who had no reason to flatter her, not only knew what she’d designed, but actively sought more.

  She wondered if she would be able to stop smiling any time soon. “If your budget is anything like mine, probably not for a few more years. I need to build a name with the high-fashion magazines and the haute couture buyers first, to give me enough cash flow to try a ready-to-wear line.”

  Masculine hands settled over her shoulders as she spoke. Her heart lodged in her throat as her body keyed into Duke’s presence, making her wonder how she’d managed to edge him out of her thoughts for the last two minutes.

  Rhonda rose. “Well, I’ll be looking for it. Good luck, Amanda.” Her eyes flickered over Duke and she saluted him with a gunshot from her thumb and forefinger in the shape of a pistol. “See ya, pilgrim,” she drawled as she sauntered away.

  Duke squeezed Amanda’s shoulders. “You ready to go?”

  She nodded, peering up at him. “You’re a John Wayne fan?”

  “My granddad swore the only way I’d fall asleep as a baby was in front of the television, watching Duke Wayne.” He winked down at her. “I sort of think he was just looking for an excuse to watch his westerns after a long day of dealing with three kids.”

  Amanda smiled to picture Duke as a child, absorbing the ethics of the Old West from the silver screen.

  A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Is Duke a nickname?”

  “You don’t miss a trick, do you, lady?” Duke folded his arms across his chest. “You’d make a great cop.”

  It seemed like high praise coming from him.

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” she persisted, curious.

  “My birth certificate says John,” he admitted, “but I don’t know of anyone who’s ever called me that. You ready to go?”

  “Yes.” Amanda lied, more nervous than she cared to admit. The thought of being alone with Duke again scared her, thrilled her.