“Almost none. It was great.”
“It was,” she agreed, her voice soft. She turned and as she did, caught sight of his gun on the nightstand. Somehow, he’d put it there during the night. Kate was right. There was something sexy about it.
She rolled onto her back, eyes on the ceiling, reveling in the feeling of his warm, strong arm across her. “So tell me about being a detective.”
“Okay.” He inhaled. “Haven’t been one that long, though.”
“A recent promotion?”
“Yes. I was a beat cop for several years. In northern California. And then here.”
“What’s the best part, chasing down bad guys and putting them in cuffs? Throwing them in the slammer?”
He chuckled. “You watch too much TV.”
“Okay, then. Tell me what I don’t know.” She ran her fingers across the broad muscles of his chest.
He was quiet for a minute and then said, “Once in a while, I could get through to a kid. A kid who was heading somewhere he wasn’t going to be able to climb back out of. I liked that. And I liked the idea that I was keeping people safe. Watching over them at night when they were asleep and there were creeps out there who might want to harm them.”
“I can see that,” she whispered.
He looked down at her, rubbing her shoulder with his hand.
“So why did you decide to be a detective, instead?”
His answer was quick this time. “Justice.” Now he turned his gaze to the ceiling. “And puzzles. I like being smarter than the bad guys, figuring out what they’re up to and making sure they don’t get away with it.”
“Great material. You should be writing about it. That life.”
A self-conscious laugh as she heard his breathing quicken. “You said that before.”
“You’re a good writer.”
“Haven’t done anything in — a while.”
She sat up. “Max Hunter. You’re working on something, aren’t you?”
He looked at her, then back at the ceiling. She could tell he didn’t want anyone to know, but he wanted to tell her.
“You are. That’s great!” She laid her hands on each side of his face, loving the feel of his morning whiskers against the tender skin of her palms.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. When will it be finished?”
He laughed as he pulled himself up, talking while his arms went around her and he began kissing her, teasing at her mouth. “It will be finished when I get it finished. When I figure out the ending. But right now I have something else to finish.”
“Oh yeah? And what would that be, Detective Hunter?” Her heart began to beat faster, as her body pressed against his.
The sound of a ringing cell pierced the air.
Max abruptly pulled away, shaking his head. “Shit. What time is it?”
“I don’t know.” Tensley blinked and tried, but not that hard, to find a clock, or her cell, in the unfamiliar bedroom. “Don’t answer it.”
“Have to.” He was up and across the room in a flash, locating his jacket on the floor and going through it until he found his phone. “Hunter.”
As he stood, listening, Tensley put one arm behind her head and let her eyes travel up and down the back of his sculpted physique, from his broad shoulders to the hard mounds of his butt cheeks to his powerful legs and bare feet. She saw now a tan line she hadn’t noticed last night, from swim trunks or shorts. That part of his skin was a few shades lighter than the rest.
Max had always loved the outdoors. She let her mind wander down a bunny trail of memories. She and Max would go swimming together. Somewhere remote, so they wouldn’t need her bikini or his swim trunks. She smiled, remembering it. Then she looked down at her own body in the early morning sunlight. Pale, no tan at all.
Great. She was nocturnal, living in a strip club.
Ah, well. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed. A little sunlight wouldn’t hurt these new boobs. What were they going to do, melt?
After another curt response into the phone, Max turned. Tensley grinned. She flung the covers away from her body and dipped her chin, looking up at him through her lashes. Then she patted the spot next to her on the bed. “Come on back,” she drawled. Right before she giggled.
“I have to go.”
“What?” She scrambled upright. “Why?”
Max was already pulling on his clothes. First his jeans, then his shirt. By the time he’d finished strapping on his gun and shoving his arms into his jacket, he still hadn’t looked at her.
“You can’t,” she sputtered, pulling the sheet from the bed to wrap it around herself.
He looked down at the floor, his jaw muscles working. From the other side of the door, Gemini yowled.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he said to the floor. “I let things get out of hand.”
“Out of hand?” she screeched, pulling the sheet tighter. “What are you talking about?”
“I have to leave.” She heard a warning in his voice.
A warning she chose to ignore. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”
“It shouldn’t have happened, that’s all. I’m sorry.”
Icy fear crept over her. She began to tremble. “I don’t understand.”
“Let’s just forget it, okay?”
“I can’t forget it.”
“You’re going to have to.”
“You’re sorry that, what, you slept with me? A — A — ” She couldn’t say it. Damn him, anyway. Ow. She pressed her fist to her heart, forcing the words out. “A stripper?” If only he knew the truth. If only she could tell him, make him understand.
He still couldn’t look at her. “I’m a cop.” He turned away abruptly, striding toward the door. When he threw it open, Gemini hissed at him.
Good cat.
She followed Max, tripping and stumbling over the sheet. “I don’t believe we did anything illegal, detective,” she snapped.
He turned back, right before reaching the door of her apartment. “Dammit, Tensley. You’re a police department informant. Working with me. I don’t know what I was thinking. Any kind of relationship between the two of us — ” He broke off to rake a hand through his hair. “Could make it impossible to build a case against Gary.”
“We’re back to Gary.” She began to jam all that had happened last night into a mental Tupperware container, but she couldn’t find a lid to save her life. Where were the damn lids?
“Last night was amazing, wonderful. It was probably the best night of my entire life.” This time, he let his eyes meet hers and she could see what looked like genuine anguish flash through them before it was replaced with something else. Resolve. “But it isn’t going to happen again.” He cupped her chin with his hand and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Next time, we’ll meet at the diner. Apparently, I can’t be trusted alone with you.”
“So that’s it. You’re done.” She knew she sounded bitter and she didn’t care. This was Bryan-with-a-y-not-an-i on steroids. No. Scratch that. It was so much worse, there wasn’t even a comparison. “Went back to high school to have a little fun and now you’re done, out of here.”
He straightened. “You know it’s not like that.”
“All I know is that you’re making the decisions for both of us.”
“Looks like I have to.”
“I’m not like you. I can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”
“And what do you think Gary’s going to do if he finds out you slept with a cop? You think he’s going to let that go? You think Razor is?”
She opened her mouth and then shut it again, remembering Gary’s fury over his stupid Maker’s Mark. This could be a lot bigger deal.
“I can’t let anything happen to you, Tensley, because of something I did. Not again.”
Her eyes filled. She blinked hard. “Let’s get this straight. It wasn’t just you here last night.”
His voice lowered. “I co
uld have stopped it.”
“I could have stopped it. But I didn’t want to. And neither did you.”
Gemini rubbed up against her bare leg, poking out from under the sheet. He meowed.
“Better feed him,” Max said as he went to open the door.
“Don’t go,” she whispered.
He stopped, knuckles whitening as he gripped the knob. “Nothing happened last night, Tensley.”
Pieces of her heart broke off and shattered, one by one. “Yes, it did.” She lifted her chin. “Several times, as a matter of fact. Thanks for that, by the way.”
He grimaced, closing his eyes. Then he opened them and turned the knob. “I’ll be in touch.”
When he had gone, Tensley leaned up against the closed door and slid on her back all the way down until she landed on the floor, the sheet in crumpled folds all around her. She didn’t even care that her bruised backside screamed in pain. It could join the rest of her.
“Guess what, Max,” she said as she stroked Gemini’s fur. “I’m not a stripper. I’m vice president of Tanner, Inc. with a professionally decorated corner office. I have a beautiful condo and a gorgeous car and I vacation in fabulous, exclusive resorts where I swear they clean the sand every morning before I wake up.”
The cat looked up at her and she went on, her voice cracking on some words and cutting out altogether on others. “This was all a huge, cruel mistake. I wouldn’t have punched Rhonda. I didn’t punch Rhonda. This isn’t me. This is someone else’s life.”
She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the door. “And last night was the only time I was really me.”
A single tear leaked out to roll down her face, followed by another. A few seconds later, she felt paws on her legs and her shoulder and then a sympathetic sandpaper tongue on her cheek.
At least someone understood.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Max got through the morning by focusing his complete and total attention on the city’s hardware stores. Every time thoughts of Tensley nudged at his consciousness, he denied entry, slamming the door shut.
Except that only made him think about kicking the door to her bedroom open, sending everything flooding right back again.
“Hunter.”
Max’s chin flew up. His captain stood a few feet away.
“Yes, sir.”
“You deaf? I said your name four times.”
“No, sir. Sorry. I was just,” he motioned toward the screen, “concentrating.” Shit, what had he been thinking last night? Not about his job, that was for damn sure. Because he could kiss it goodbye if anybody found out he’d been with Tensley.
There were about four hundred rules and policies against that kind of thing and he’d probably broken every single fucking one of them. At least twice.
Make that three times.
“Uh-huh,” said his captain, making it clear in two syllables that he didn’t believe him. “Your CI come up with anything yet?”
“Uh, yeah.” Max raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, she did. She found out Gary Burns has a side business he doesn’t want the police looking at.” He squinted at his papers.
“What kind of a business?”
“Lane Family Hardware. Mr. Lane sold it to Gary Burns a couple of years ago, but Burns kept the name.”
“Could be he wanted his own place to sell stripper poles.”
“The place was on its last legs when Burns bought it. A Home Depot moved in a block away. My CI says the neighborhood hardware store doesn’t have many customers.”
“His club’s got customers. The guy can probably afford a home improvement fetish if he wants one.”
“Could be. But my gut’s telling me there’s something else.” Max allowed himself a glance up, meeting his captain’s eyes. “The people I told you about that I saw going into the back, they didn’t even look at the dancers. My CI’s telling me the girls — new girls, anyway — aren’t allowed near Burns’s office, not even to get supplies. ”
The other man’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. “So what’s the connection?”
Max looked back down, drumming his fingers on his desk. “Not sure yet. He’s selling drugs, maybe. Or has a prostitution operation on the side. Or could be he’s messing with the books. Running money through the club or the store. For a fee.”
“A lot of maybes.”
Max pulled his mouth in tight and nodded.
“Check it out, but don’t spend time on dead ends.” His captain’s voice held a clear warning. “I need you on other cases.”
“I understand.”
“You at the club again tonight?”
Max jerked his head yes. If Tensley was on stage tonight — his dick stiffened at the possibility — it would take everything he had to concentrate on his job. “CI’s going to get me something I can work with.”
A pause. “Your CI’s a good-looking woman.”
Max heard the question. He shrugged, picking up his papers. “She’s okay.” If you like smart, beautiful women who see straight through your bullshit and think there’s actually something good there. If that’s your type.
“You’ve got a week. If you can’t find anything going on at that club by then, you gotta get out of there.”
There was something going on. He could feel it in his bones. “But — ”
“You wanted a shot at this, so I gave it to you. But you spend too long at one place without anything to show for it, that’s not going to look good.”
Sleeping with his CI was going to look a hell of a lot worse. “Yes, sir.”
His captain walked away, footsteps ringing on the floor like nails in the coffin of Max’s law enforcement career.
• • •
Mid-day, Max got into his truck and drove to Rhonda’s store. His cell showed she’d called him twice since he’d blown her off early this morning. He still felt like shit about doing that. As if she’d caught him cheating, which didn’t even make sense.
But there wasn’t a whole lot that did make sense right now.
Her store was in a once-crumbling area of town now considered up and coming, thanks to a group fascinated with the faded murals and stone archways. The fact that these structures had, in another century, housed the town’s most profitable brothels apparently only added to the appeal.
The group had commissioned historical markers and a statue of one of the era’s colorful madams at her most provocative self. The city’s mayor, stepping in a beat too late, was now trying to put a stop to it all, saying it would give a whole new meaning to the term “bedroom community.”
Big mistake. Rhonda, who had managed to get herself elected vice president of the group, had picked up that comment and run it up field for a marketing touchdown. The mayor was still trying to stammer his way out of a public fight with a police captain’s daughter.
Max pulled into a parking spot in front of the store and cut the engine. Several bells clanged on the door when he entered the store, rising above the female conversation and sound of Lady GaGa singing in the background. Jammed with racks of women’s clothing, the shop smelled of equal parts perfume, furniture polish and mothballs.
At an antique wooden counter, a young woman picked up the phone, announcing, “Rhonda’s Rags to Bitches!” When she spotted Max, she waved hello and then pointed one long, orange fingernail toward another part of the store. “She’s back there.” Then she turned her attention back to the caller. “Yes, we have eve-en-ing gowns. You got a party to go to?” She grinned and wrinkled her sizeable nose at Max, causing the ring in its corner to disappear for a second.
He smiled, knowing it would only take a few seconds for Avril’s attention to be diverted to —
It took less than that. “You have to try that on!” she screeched at a woman holding a dress with mirrored circles plastered to its front. They reflected in the light, casting rainbows on the walls and Max’s shirt. “It’s so cute!” Back to the caller. “You looking for glam or gorge?”
Max we
aved through the racks toward the back of the store.
He found Rhonda sitting cross-legged on a table in the stockroom, surrounded by an explosion of clothing. She had paperwork in her lap, a pen in her mouth and a look of consternation on her face.
She hadn’t seen him yet. For a few seconds, he thought about leaving. No good. Avril would only tell her he’d been here. He stepped around something sparkly on the floor. “Hi,” he said.
Rhonda’s chin flew up. “Hi.” There was a streak of blue ink above her red lipstick. Her eyes, lined with black, were wide, anxious. “You didn’t call me back.”
“I was — working. Came as soon as I could.” It was only a partial fib, so why did it leave such a bad taste in his mouth?
Rhonda slid off the table and began pacing back and forth before him like a wind-up toy at full speed. She’d always been able to go from zero to ninety in less than a minute.
In tight low-slung jeans that hugged her ass perfectly and a T-shirt that barely contained her generous tits, Rhonda had a body every man who saw her fantasized about being able to get into bed. Every man except Max.
Any more, anyway.
She stopped pacing and turned to face him, her arms crossed. Her lower lip quivered. “I needed you last night.”
“I’m here now.”
“But last night — ” She broke off and raised her palms, appealing to the ceiling. Some kind of blue feather thing in her hair bobbed up and down. “I can’t even tell you what a bad place I was in. It happened again. I started thinking about … you know … and it just still hu-hurts so much … .” The last word disappeared as her eyes filled.
A familiar spot in his chest tightened. Yeah, he knew. But guilt had now taken up full-time residence in that spot because he’d moved on. Every time he wanted to tell her to quit living in the past, that guilt stepped up to figuratively punch him in the face.
She didn’t call him as much anymore, though. Only on the occasional bad night. Maybe that was a good sign. He stepped forward and folded her in his arms. “Are you still going to that therapist?”
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