by KT Roberts
“Well?” Her brows rose, daring him to deny it.
He jerked his head back. “Hey, I can’t help it if the women chase after me.”
“Careful, your ego is showing.”
“I don’t have an ego.”
“Yeah, right,” she snorted.
“I’m so misunderstood.” He threw his hands in the air and shrugged. “Okay, just one more question.”
“What now?”
He stared at her straight on. “Are you and Harwell still involved?”
She smacked her hands against her thighs. “I can’t believe you asked me that again. Absolutely not—and you know me better than that. I answered this question before. Didn’t you believe me?”
“Relax. I just wanted to be sure I’m not treading on anyone else’s turf. I’m sorry.” He gave her a weak smile, and reached for her hand again. This time, she didn’t pull back and enjoyed the pleasure of his thumb caressing her knuckles. “I believe you.” He stopped and leaned back in his chair, but his eyes remained steady on her face.
“What?” she asked. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“I just had a wonderful thought about how great it would be to do this on a regular basis . . . like make it more of a permanent relationship.” Her hand shot up like a stop sign. “And this comes as a shock?” He scratched his head.
“Oh Gerard, I can’t risk it again.”
“Does that mean you’ve considered it?”
“I’d be a liar if I told you I hadn’t, but it’s never going to happen and you know it.”
He leaned forward and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. Her heart revved up. She bit her lip to stop herself from letting him see the pleasure it brought her.
“I’ll be careful about not letting anyone see us,” he whispered, “I’ll even leave the department.”
She shook her head. “Stop being silly. You love working in the Two-one.”
“But not enough to keep us apart.”
“It’s never going to happen.” Her mouth was saying no, but her heart was saying yes. “For the three years we’ve worked together, I can’t remember a time when we’ve run into each other off duty that you didn’t have some gorgeous creature hanging off your arm.” She swallowed hard, stunned she’d vocalized that she’d noticed.
His face softened into a smile. “Did that make you jealous?”
Damn right it made her jealous. “Good Lord, no,” she lied, and took another sip of water. “You’re . . . you’re having too much fun playing the field.” There. It was out. Now he knew the long line of beauties he’d been seen with bothered her. A tinge of remorse attacked her stomach and it tightened in a knot. She shouldn’t have revealed so much to him. Damn the alcohol. She shouldn’t have had anything to drink because she didn’t know enough to keep her mouth shut. But it was too late, he was already grinning like a schoolboy from his first crush. God, he was gorgeous.
“What if I told you I don’t want any other woman but you?”
Jessie’s fingers ached to reach over and pull him forward and kiss him. She gulped down the rest of the water. “I’d say you were full of it.”
His eyes filled with determination. “Did Harwell hurt you so bad that you won’t allow yourself the pleasure of a relationship with me? Is that what this is all about? Or are you punishing yourself like you think the guys are for having a relationship with someone who’s now our boss?”
“That’s ludicrous.” She took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Harwell wasn’t married when I dated him.” The mention of Harwell’s name caused her lighthearted mood to fade.
“Is that why he came to our precinct—to make up for the pain he caused you?”
“My God, you’re just making up your own story as you go along.”
“Talk to me, Jessie. Please. Help me understand what you’ve been through, so I know how to act around you.”
“Okay,” she said, her fingertip slid around the rim of her glass. “I’ll tell you. When Harwell came onboard six months ago, word got out that we’d dated. Cripes, that was over ten years ago. I would have thought by now no one would even remember. It was probably somebody from the old precinct who felt resentful about his promotion, because I can almost pinpoint when they found out. All the banter between the guys and me came to a screeching halt. No more silly pranks, nothing, nada—all gone.” She waved her hand. “I told myself I was imagining things; that the guys I’d had the most fun with were just having a bad day. But I knew better. This is the same thing that happened at the old job. And, he was single then . . . that is until he dumped me and got married soon after.” Jessie played with the edge of the paper napkin under her water.
“You didn’t answer my question. What caused the break-up?”
“I’d rather not say. He’s our boss. If the real reason ever got out, it would only come back to haunt me. I have enough problems as it is.”
“You have to know I’d never repeat anything you tell me.”
“I know you wouldn’t mean to, but it does happen. And, if you knew, you wouldn’t treat him the same either.” Jessie rubbed her long fingers through the ends of her hair. “So now,” she continued, “the guys act as if they’re on a tight rope around me, afraid to say anything for fear I’ll report it back to the boss.”
“You really do believe they’re sending you the threatening notes, don’t you?”
“I really do, Gerard. That’s why I’m not as concerned as you think I should be.”
“Well, I guess I can understand why you feel that way, especially after the way they’ve treated you. I had no idea this was going on. I’m really sorry.”
“Thank you. I know they’d like me to leave the precinct, and to tell you the truth, I’ve considered it, but that would be the easy way out.” A rush of sadness ached inside her chest, and a feeling of emptiness encompassed her.
The waitress returned for their order. Zach’s hand reached across the table for hers again and she relished the feel of his touch. She was having trouble focusing, suddenly feeling like putty in his hands. His face brightened, but he never moved his eyes from hers. She couldn’t believe how much she enjoyed his company regardless of the questions he’d asked. She knew he worried about her. That was a first. A warm glow settled inside her chest like a cup of hot chocolate on a blustery day, and she was happy she’d accepted his offer to have dinner.
The food, the ambiance, Zach—it was building to a perfect evening.
“Tell me why it’s so important for you to prove to everyone that you’re tough.” He set his drink down waiting for her response.
“You’ve never had to prove yourself, have you Gerard?”
“I’ve had to prove myself every day of my life.” He tightened his lips into a thin line. “The only problem is, the person whose approval I’ve sought for most of my life has never acknowledged me. I stopped caring a long time ago about what other people think.”
“And, who would that be?”
“My old man. Nothing I’ve done has ever been good enough. He’s an attorney, and he thought I should follow in his footsteps, regardless of what I wanted. When I wasn’t interested in living out the life he’d planned for me, or marrying the woman he’d chosen to be my wife, he turned his back on me and said I’d never amount to anything without his help.”
“Ooh, how awful. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, me too. But that’s how the cookie crumbles.”
“Your father wouldn’t be Alan Gerard, the high profile attorney I’ve been reading about in the newspapers, would it?”
“That’s him.”
“But you still see your mother, don’t you?”
“I wish. She died five years ago. How about we change the subject?”
She could tell by the expression on his face, the subject made him uncomfortable. “Sounds like a good idea.”
When they finished dinner, he hailed a cab. They rode in silence, his hand wrapped around hers. She tossed her head back
against the cushion of the seat and closed her eyes. He moved over closer and gently pulled her head down onto his shoulder. She hadn’t remembered feeling such contentment.
The cab pulled up in front of her apartment. He helped her out, and asked the driver to wait. She released a contented sigh as they walked up the stairs, their arms wrapped around each other’s waist. Words could not express the emotions surfing through her body. An awkward moment passed between them, and she thought she might burst if she didn’t unlock the door to her apartment and go inside. She broke the silence. “Thank you. It’s been a wonderful evening.” She turned and shoved her key into the lock and pushed the door open.
“Me too, Jess. I hope this evening is the first of many more to come.”
She smiled as she walked through the opened door, and stopped halfway to glance back at him. That’s when he pulled her outside and devoured her mouth. His kiss was urgent, and hungry. She felt the fire erupt inside her body as though she was in the middle of a million fireworks on the fourth of July.
She stood stunned, wrapped in his tight embrace, unable to speak, and listened to the thunder of his heart and wondered if he could feel hers. He pulled back and stared in her eyes.
“Are you sure you want to call it a night?”
10
The early morning sunlight stirred Jessie from a sound sleep. She moaned in pain from a headache that throbbed—the result of too many Martinis. She rubbed her temples willing the sledgehammer effect bouncing off her skull to subside and wished she’d listened to Gerard about not having another drink.
“Oh God,” tripped off her tongue. The memory of last night rushed to the front of her mind. Her hand instinctively reached over to the opposite side of the bed and patted the mattress. It was empty. She blew out a steady stream of air, relieved. Thank God, they hadn’t slept together. Contented the alcohol hadn’t clouded her good sense she grabbed the extra pillow and covered her face to shield her eyes from the brightness. Inhaling the smell of Gerard’s cologne embedded in the pillowcase made her gasp.
“Oh no,” she said, pressing the pillow into her face. It was true. They had slept together.
Her stomach tightened. How could she have been so stupid? Yeah, he was hot. Yeah, she’d even dreamt about him, and yes, fantasized about them being together, but she hadn’t planned to act out her fantasy. She rolled over onto her stomach, the pillow now tight against the back of her head. She growled into the mattress. Why did she agree to have dinner with him in the first place? Her feet angrily banged against the mattress, causing her head to pound as though it would burst. Well, it was too late now. If the guys at work ever found out she’d slept with Gerard, life would be even more miserable than it was already.
She peeked out from the corner of the pillow to check the clock on the nightstand. Her heart raced realizing she didn’t have much time before she was to report to work. By comparison though, that was easy part. What wasn’t so easy was how she was going to face Gerard or how to handle the situation she’d created. Her mind was muzzy; her head splitting, she groaned and promised herself she would handle it before it got any worse. She rolled over onto her back, clutching her head with her two hands. Determination took over, and she forced herself to raise her head to get out of bed. The room was spinning around like a top. She closed her eyes and flopped back down on the pillow. The pounding thud of pain from her hangover headache intensified and she thought her head would explode. Taking in deep breaths of air, she convinced herself she needed to get out of bed. Dread encompassed her body. Why did she drink so much? And, why the hell did she sleep with her partner?
Counting to three, she sat upright. Nausea worked its way up into her throat. She bolted out of bed and into the bathroom and threw the lid of the toilet seat up. Leaning over, she emptied the contents of her stomach, wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet. Jessie made an attempt to stand, but her body wasn’t ready to move. Instead, she hugged the toilet bowl. The sour aftertaste of vomit lingered in her mouth.
A few minutes later and she slowly raised herself up, holding onto the cabinet for leverage and turned on the faucet, dipped her head under the stream of cold water, and turned from side to side, taking in a gulp of water to rinse her mouth. Convinced nothing but mouthwash would work, she reached for the bottle already on the counter and took a swig, swirled it around, and spit it back out.
The pounding in her head increased and ibuprofen came to mind. Using her hands to guide her to the medicine chest, water dripping down off her hair onto her face and shoulders, she opened the door and found the bottle, but her fingers wouldn’t cooperate with the challenge of the safety cap.
With a quick intake of air, she managed to remove the lid and poured three pills into the palm of her hand. She turned on the faucet, guzzled back the pills, and washed them down with the water from her cupped hand. The sound of a key turning in the lock gave her pause. She heard footsteps, and froze.
“Hey, Jessie, are you all right in there?” Zach asked.
She gasped again. What had she done? She peeked around the corner and groaned when she saw him looking so chipper. Then she glanced at her reflection in the mirror; enough reason to slump to the floor, hoping he’d go away.
He walked to the opened bathroom door, a bag containing breakfast in his left hand, and a florist’s box under his arm. He set it down on the counter next to her. The smell from the bag of food rushed up her nose. The nausea returned and she slumped over the bowl one more time, kicking the bathroom door shut with her foot to discourage him from gaping at her.
When she finished, she started the water running in the shower and stepped inside the stall, pulling the shower curtain to the closed position and stood under the steady flow of water.
“Hey, sweetheart, you don’t need to hide from me. I’ve seen worse than this.”
Christ, she thought, now he’s calling me sweetheart. Another groan escaped from her mouth. What the hell have I done?
The churning of her stomach persisted. Rushing back to the toilet, she held onto anything within reach to prevent her from falling flat on her face. That’s when she vowed never to touch another ounce of alcohol, especially around Gerard. God, how could she have been so stupid. He’d told her no more alcohol, but did she listen? No, not this broad. She released a deep sigh and stepped back into the shower and allowed the water to beat against her face and neck, praying the headache would go away and take Zach with it. A short while later, he reentered the bathroom and pulled the curtain aside.
“Hey, Jessie. Are you ever coming out of that shower?”
“Go away.”
“Now that’s not what you said last night.” She watched him stoop down and wipe the water off the floor with a towel from the rack.
“Forget about last night. Forget about me. I’ll be out of the department by the end of the week.”
He laughed. “Oh stop it, for God’s sake. We’re not children. We’re consenting adults.”
“Don’t remind me.”
He smiled and headed back out to the kitchen. “You’re even beautiful when you’re barfing.”
“Oh, shut up.”
When she heard the door shut, she stepped out of the shower and reached for the oversized towel, wrapping it tightly around her body. She stood in front of the mirror and eyed the reflection staring back at her. The long red locks she’d always taken great pains to showcase were now a tangled mess. She raked her fingers through the mass trying to untangle the knots and shuffled into the kitchen.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?”
“Shut up,” she said.
“Uh oh, somebody’s grumpy.” He was clean-shaven, and dressed in dark brown dress slacks, a striped, brown, black and white shirt, and tasseled loafers. She looked away. She didn’t need to see him looking so hot, but the masculine scent of his cologne only reminded her of the foolish mistake she’d made.
He held a container out to her. “Here, drink this Ms. Martini Girl. This will make you
feel better.” He smirked. “How’s that head this morning?” She didn’t respond. “That bad, huh?”
She grimaced and slowly removed the lid from the container and took a swig, certain there was nothing left inside her stomach to cause any more trips to the bathroom.
“Yep, that bad.” He pointed to the florist’s box. “These were at your front door when I returned. Have you been keeping something from me?”
“No. I have no clue who they’re from.”
She walked to the cupboard, reached inside for a vase, filled it with water, and then went back over to untie the ribbon around the box. Unable to release the knot, she reached for a pair of scissors to cut the ribbon. Disturbed by her current state of mind, she couldn’t believe a minute ago she was dreading the fact that she’d slept with him, yet now, the flowers caused her heart to palpitate. What was wrong with her?
She was convinced he’d bought the flowers for her, but was too embarrassed to admit it. This was a side of him she’d never expected. She racked her brain trying to remember whether she enjoyed the sex. That’s what happens when you drink too much, she told herself. He obviously enjoyed it. The idea of being courted by him really appealed to her senses. She smiled—he was definitely a smooth operator.
With the tie undone, she sighed, and lifted the lid. She gasped—frozen in space as she viewed the contents inside the box. They were roses all right, but not the kind she was expecting to see. She shoved the box on the floor, afraid to touch them.
“What the hell?” Zach said.
Pieces of dead, black roses scattered over the floor. A note lay under one of the stems, and she stooped down to pick it up. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the note out of her hand. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and the dull ache in her head throbbed again.
A sudden sense of suspicion washed over her body, and held her captive. He’d been the one to bring the box inside. Could he be the one doing this to her? A slight flashback of their evening gave her second thoughts about him doing such a thing. But maybe he was trying to trick her into thinking he wanted a relationship just to get closer to her.