by Janette Rallison, Heather B. Moore, Luisa Perkins, Sarah M. Eden, Annette Lyon, Lisa Mangum
He was right. She shut her eyes and inwardly sighed. It was going to be a long night.
The next evening, Lydia stood outside an upscale apartment in Manhattan. If the BMW hadn’t told her that Harrison had done well for himself, the apartment where he lived would. Ornate stone banisters led to large curved doors decorated with all sorts of intricacies. No doubt the place had doormen, an oversized crystal chandelier hanging in the lobby, and spa services tucked away somewhere.
Technically Lydia shouldn’t have looked at Harrison’s records to see his address. Although if asked, she could claim she got it off the Internet. Nobody’s address was safe from the Internet.
Lydia had come here to return Harrison’s money. In the excitement of last night, she’d forgotten about the bills in her pocket until after her shift was over and she was changing out of her hooker clothes. The money had fallen out of her pocket and stared up at her like an accusation. Not only did you nearly get your ex-boyfriend arrested, you took his cash too.
Now that Lydia was outside his building, she had second thoughts. He hadn’t wanted to talk to her back in high school when he thought she’d cheated on him. So he probably wouldn’t want to talk to her after burly officers had shoved him against his vehicle and then dragged him to a squad car.
But she needed to give him his money back. And apologize for everything he’d gone through last night. After all, he’d only been trying to help her. But then again, she’d only been doing her job. Should she have to put up with his anger when she’d just been trying to rid the world of crime?
Decisions, decisions. She looked up at the windows of the building as if they would tell her what to do.
She was still looking up when Harrison’s BMW pulled up next to her. The tinted window rolled down. He wore a suit and tie, but otherwise looked like he had last night. Broad-shouldered, blond, and gorgeous. He looked less worried for her soul now: more guarded. And slightly ticked off.
“Hey Trixie, hanging out on another street corner?”
It was embarrassing to be caught loitering in front of his building. Sort of stalkerish. “Oh, hi.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, so she took the stack of bills from her purse. “I came to return your money.”
He didn’t say anything, just stared at her appraisingly.
“From last night,” she added.
“Yeah, I remember last night. In fact, the events are permanently seared into my memory.”
He was still appraising her, and she was glad she’d taken extra time getting ready. Her makeup was soft now, emphasizing the green in her hazel eyes. Her long hair hung loose around her shoulders, its natural wave giving it bounce.
She held the bills out to him. “Here kitty, kitty. I won’t bite.”
He tilted his chin down. “As I recall, you were supposed to give me an hour and a half of your time for those. I had what, ten minutes? And then I was frisked, cuffed, and put in a squad car.”
“Yeah, about that... Sorry.” Her apology didn’t come out nearly as heartfelt as she had planned.
“Did I mention I was handcuffed?”
“I was there for it.”
“Yes, you were.”
She put one hand on her hip. “It could have been worse, you know. Rochelle Ingleside could have taken a picture of the event and sent it to our high school classmates.”
Harrison nodded. “Well, there’s always a silver lining, isn’t there?’
Lydia leaned into his car window, holding out the money. “So anyway, sorry again about everything, and here’s your money.”
“Get in the car,” he said. “I don’t want the money. I want to talk to you for an hour and a half.”
Her insides tugged between aggravation and happiness. He wanted to talk to her. Maybe he had changed since high school. Happiness won.
“All right. I guess I have the time.” Her next shift didn’t start until later that night. One of the benefits of being a faux streetwalker. She climbed into the BMW and shut the door. The car had that new smell to it. She hadn’t noticed that detail last night while they were fleeing from the police van.
Harrison pulled into traffic. “Where do you want to go?” He momentarily let his blue eyes drift to her.
“I’ve got one hundred and eighty dollars. I could buy you dinner.”
“Hmm. Someplace good then. I want my money’s worth.”
It suddenly felt like high school again, pre-Brett. Comfortable. Easy.
“By the way,” Harrison added, “my mom says to tell you hi back.”
Lydia turned to better see his expression. “You actually told her about last night?”
“Yeah. She called me this morning. One of her friends forwarded Rochelle’s picture to her. She was worried about you.”
Lydia let her head thunk backward against the headrest. “Great. The news is already reaching the older generation.” She supposed that any time now, her own mother would call, worried and demanding answers. Yeah, Lydia should have told her mother that she was more than a desk clerk. But really, undercover work was pretty safe. Last night was the first time someone had tried to abscond with her.
“My mom was relieved you’re still an upstanding citizen,” Harrison went on. “And she suggested arresting Rochelle for slander. I explained the laws regarding slander, so then my mom just wished a lot of bad karma on her.”
Lydia looked upward, considering. “The problem with karma is that it takes too long to work. Last time it took six years.”
“I’m going to pretend that I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
“Rochelle’s picture wasn’t all bad,” Lydia admitted. “Three more guys from our class stopped by my corner last night. Unfortunately, their intentions weren’t nearly as noble as yours.” She smiled at the memory of the guys’ wide eyes as their cars were surrounded by police officers. “Who knew so many men would pay money to spend time with me?”
“I did,” Harrison said as though it proved his point. “Who got arrested?”
She hesitated. “Are you going to gloat if I tell you one of the guys was Brett?”
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t think I should tell you.”
Harrison smirked. Gloatingly. “So who else showed up besides Brett?”
She told him the names. They were people she had known but never talked much to in school. “You can see their photos online. That’s part of the anti-prostitution sweep. We’re posting the offenders’ pictures.” She relaxed against the seat in satisfaction. “I forwarded the link to Rochelle.”
“Brutal.”
“Yeah. I think word will get around pretty quickly that I’m actually an undercover cop.”
Harrison’s eyes slid to hers again. “What else are you?”
“What else?”
He shrugged. “Are you married, do you have a family, are you happy?”
“Not married, no family, but yes, I’m happy.”
“Good.” He smiled. “I mean, I’m glad you’re happy.”
She could still read him. He was glad for more than her happiness. “How about you?” she asked.
“I’ve been too busy with school and work to have much of a social life. So I’m not married, no family, and I’m a lot happier now than I was last night.”
“Yeah, people usually aren’t too happy when we cuff them. Go figure.”
He sent her a look laced with meaning. “I meant I’m happy you’re not some down-and-out streetwalker.”
“Oh, that. Me too. Being a police officer is much better. At least most days.”
He grinned, just like he had when they used to talk in high school. “I know a great place for dinner.”
Harrison took Lydia to a restaurant she’d never heard of, a place where the staff knew him by sight.
The maître d’ smiled broadly when they walked in. “So good to see you again, Mr. Aldridge. Would you like your usual table?”
His usual table, it turned out, overlooked the city. French art h
ung on the wall. Glowing candles sat on the table, and soft violin music drifted into the room.
Harrison was charming at dinner, smiling easily, letting his gaze rest on her so often that she began to feel her pulse quicken every time his eyes went to hers. He asked how she ended up in police work when she’d started college as a secondary education major.
“You were going to save underprivileged teens with the power of education,” he said. “What happened?”
At first she teased him with different versions of the story of her career change. In one she was a reformed cat-burglar who’d made a deal with the DA. In another, she’d been saved from criminals by a daring cop and had joined the force to repay society.
“I’m not going to let you leave until you tell me the truth,” Harrison said. “My mom will want details.”
Lydia finished off a bite of sautéed duck. “The real story isn’t that interesting. I didn’t like teaching as much as I thought I would, and I realized I didn’t want to spend my life grading poorly written essays on The Scarlet Letter. Putting criminals away seemed like a more immediate way to save the world.”
Harrison nodded. “As long as the world gets saved somehow.”
“Right. And compared to dealing with surly hormonal teenagers all day, facing criminals is easy.”
In some ways, the dinner seemed surreal. It felt like she’d stepped back in time, like this was just one more date with Harrison, and that when they walked out of the restaurant, they would find themselves in high school again. In other ways, it seemed all too real. The way his eyes rested on her, the curve of his jaw, everything about his presence made it hard to think about anything else.
When they’d both finished their meals, he asked, “Do you have a boyfriend?” His eyes were back on her, watching her expression.
“I go out every once in a while, but the pool of available guys becomes much smaller when they know you can run background checks on them.”
“Only if you’re into the criminal element.”
“Well, I always had a thing for bad boys.” She said it jokingly. Harrison had been the farthest thing possible from a bad boy.
He took a sip from his glass. “That would explain Brett.”
“There is no explaining Brett.” She meant that there was nothing to explain where he was concerned, but Harrison didn’t catch her meaning.
“So true,” he said, and put down his glass.
The waiter came in then, asking if they wanted dessert.
“I’d better not,” Lydia said, irritated. Despite Harrison’s flirting at dinner, he still refused to believe her. “I need to be able to fit into my hooker clothes.” She forced a smile. “It’s a tough business. I don’t want to lose clients.”
The waiter raised his eyebrows in surprise. Good. Let the staff wonder who Mr. Aldridge had brought to his usual table.
Harrison pulled his wallet from his pocket and took out a credit card. “She’s an undercover officer,” he told the waiter.
The waiter nodded as he took the card. “Yes, sir.” He probably would have used the same agreeable tone if Harrison had said, “She’s a mermaid.”
As soon as the waiter left, Lydia remembered that she was supposed to pay for the meal. She pulled the money from her purse and held it out to Harrison.
“I’m paying this bill,” he said. “I want to cash in my time with you later.”
What did he mean by that? The edge to his voice didn’t sound like he wanted time happily reminiscing about the good old days. Maybe he wanted an hour and a half to yell at her for compromising his reputation at his restaurant. And okay, she probably shouldn’t have done that, but she wasn’t going to apologize unless he apologized for the Brett comment.
“Are you free tomorrow night?” he asked. “We could walk around Central Park.”
Central Park had been her favorite place back when they were in high school. Still was. “Okay,” she said.
Was he asking her out on a date? It seemed improbable. Guys in Harrison’s tax bracket didn’t date cops. They went out with high-powered businesswomen, heiresses, or Broadway starlets.
After they left the restaurant, Harrison drove Lydia to her apartment in Queens. His voice was neutral as he asked questions about her family and work, but she could feel an undercurrent there. He wanted to talk about something else.
Her apartment building was much less impressive than his. It was a four-story brick building older than her grandparents and just as quirky. The bay windows and woodwork were charming, the lack of an elevator less so.
Harrison insisted on seeing her to her door, even though it required a three-story hike. That was another thing about him that she remembered from high school: he was a gentleman.
They reached her door. He didn’t make a move to leave, and she didn’t pull her apartment key from her purse. He was staring at her as if she was a memory from long ago. But then, she supposed that’s what she was.
“So, Officer Robinson,” he said slowly, putting his hands in his pockets. “You have a thing for bad boys?”
She made a small, indignant sound. “Nothing happened between me and Brett. Didn’t he explain that to you?”
Harrison looked upward, remembering. “I think rub it in would be a better descriptive term for what Brett did.”
Lydia inwardly groaned. “He told me he explained everything.”
Harrison was still gazing upward. “I also recall shoving him against a wall and exchanging a few swearwords. Then he shoved me and said he could do whatever he wanted. There might have been some punches thrown.” Harrison returned his gaze to hers. “Fun times.”
“Sorry,” she said, sighing. “I thought he made things clear. But even if he didn’t, you still had my word that nothing went on.”
Harrison cocked his head. “Why weren’t you this insistent back in high school? You never even tried to talk to me after I ran into you and Brett on the sidewalk.”
“Because our breakup wasn’t about Brett. It was about you going off to Harvard and not caring about leaving me behind.”
One of Harrison’s eyebrows went up. “I don’t remember it being about that.”
“That’s because you never talked to me about it.” She fingered a knick in her doorframe, feeling suddenly like that vulnerable eighteen-year-old again. “You never acted like you were going to miss me.”
Harrison let out a slow breath. “That’s ironic. Because I missed you like crazy.” He took a step closer. He smelled of cologne and summer nights. It brought back memories of the times he’d held her close and she’d rested her head against his shoulder. “At college, I kept thinking of things I wanted to tell you, and then I remembered we weren’t speaking anymore.”
She paused, pulled herself away from memories. “You knew my number. You could have called.”
“You wouldn’t have answered.”
“Yes, I would have.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, pushed a button, and her phone rang in her purse. “You still have the same number,” he said, surprised.
“You didn’t take me off your contacts?” she asked, just as surprised.
“I didn’t take you off my speed dial.”
“Ah,” she said. “I would think that’s sweet, except that knowing you, you were too busy studying to take the time to delete it.”
He still held his phone to his ear. “You said you would answer. You’re not.”
She reached into her purse, pulled out her phone, and held it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hi, Lydia.” His gaze stayed on hers. “I called to tell you I’m sorry for not trusting you in high school.” His voice grew softer. “And I’m sorry you got the impression that I wouldn’t miss you. Nothing was farther from the truth.”
It was ridiculous standing here talking to each other on the phone while they stood inches apart, but she didn’t feel like laughing. Her heart was racing. The heat of possibilities warmed a trail through her. She recognized that look in Harri
son’s eyes, that I want to kiss you look.
She shouldn’t kiss him. Their relationship was water under the bridge. You couldn’t bring back the past. You shouldn’t try. He stepped toward her.
Water under the bridge, she told herself.
He leaned in, and his lips came down on hers. Softly, questioningly. It was a question she gladly answered. Her hands made their way up his chest, feeling the muscles underneath his tailored shirt. He was warm, familiar, and kissing him was as easy as talking to him had been. Their relationship was water under the bridge, and right now that water felt like it was a torrent. Strong and fast and easily able to pull her under.
“I did miss you,” he murmured into her ear before letting his lips brush against her lobe. “The most important thing I learned at Harvard is how rare someone like you is. I should have fought for you.” His lips moved to the skin beneath her ear. “When I saw that picture of you, when I thought the Lydia I knew was trapped in that sort of life...” He stopped kissing her and raised his head. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
She ran her hand through the blond hair at his temples. Her voice came out throatier than she expected. “Do you think we can give this another shot, or is that living in the past?”
“Try me.” He dropped another kiss on her lips. “I’ll listen this time. Say whatever you wanted to say to me back then.”
She leaned away from him because his kisses were making her knees week. What had she wanted to say to him back at the end of high school? It was hard to think clearly. “Um, I would have said that I was going to miss you like crazy.”
Harrison didn’t let go of her. He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I completely believe you.”
“I was crying with Brett because you were going away, and he was comforting me. That’s all that happened.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.” He kissed the other corner of her mouth. “See how well this is going?” He drew her closer and kissed her bottom lip. “What else did you want to say that I should have listened to?”
She wrapped her arms back around his neck. “I don’t want you to go off to Massachusetts where I won’t be able to see you.”