Between The Lines (Hot in the City Book 4)

by T Gephart

  “Well, finding out she’d been screwing a bartender from TGI Fridays probably made him change his mind,” I bit out, the idea she could cheat on a guy as amazing as Grayson still making me mad.

  It was unlike me to share business that wasn’t mine, and I absolutely hated people who gossiped. But exposing Maxine for the deceitful piece of shit I’d always suspected and was later proven to be, was too big a temptation. Plus, it was Leighton and Tibbs, and they’d probably hear it from someone at the station anyway. It wasn’t exactly a big secret.

  “Ouch,” winced Leighton, flagging over a waitress as he planted his ass on the curved leather bench next to Tibbs. “Poor Miller. Still,” he glanced over to where my partner was still happily entertaining the brunette, “looks like he’s found something interesting to take his mind off her. At least for a few hours.”

  “Yep,” I agreed, my eyes deviating to the bar briefly before returning to my male company. “Small mercies. He’s a good guy, he deserves someone equally great.”

  “What about you?” Tibbs asked, a grin twitching at his lips.

  My eyes widened. The idea of me and Miller dating was so freaking foreign I couldn’t even believe he’d suggested it. Yeah, we were good friends, but he was more like a brother to me. No. There was no scenario where Grayson Miller and I would ever be romantically involved. Even if we didn’t work together.

  “Umm, he’s my partner, moron. Not only is that the worst idea ever, but it’s not even like that with us,” I scoffed, wondering if he would’ve even suggested it if he hadn’t seen me in a dress.

  Tibbs chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Not you and Miller, Ricci. Jesus. I meant you and someone else. You dating anyone?”

  Wow.

  Why did he even care?

  It could’ve just been small talk.

  And since I’d so easily volunteered information about Miller’s relationship status, I couldn’t really think it was too personal to talk about my own.

  Or he could want to know for more devious reasons. Like to amuse himself with the fact that I was single.

  Deciding I wasn’t going to willingly give him any advantages, I turned to face him, our legs accidentally making contact. “What about you, Tibbs? Dating? Wait . . .” I paused, tapping my finger against my lips. “You can’t really call it dating when you’re only with them for a night.”

  It was a cheap shot and I was better than that, annoyed at myself for sinking to that level. Not only because it was none of my business, but because as long as it was consensual, who the hell cared how many people he slept with.

  Leighton laughed, coughing into his hand as the waitress approached us. “So, Ricci, you want a beer? Cocktail? Tibbs, want some Neosporin to go with that burn you just got?”

  “I’ll have an old fashioned.” I smiled sweetly, knowing my little jab was going to earn me some recourse. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll have a beer. Stella. Thanks, Denise.” Tibbs winked at the waitress who seemed thrilled just to have his attention. And if he was annoyed by what I’d said, he wasn’t showing it.

  “I’ll just take a soda, Denise.” Leighton grinned. “And thanks again.”

  Denise didn’t bother writing down our order, nodding wordlessly but giving Tibbs an appreciative smile before she sauntered off.

  “So, you really want to know about my dating habits, Ricci?” Tibbs popped a brow, not moving his leg which was still pressed against mine. “Or there something else you want to make assumptions on.” He didn’t even try to hide his grin, like he was pleased I’d basically called him a whore.

  “More an observation than an assumption, Tibbs.” I met his smirk with one of my own. “But if it makes you feel better to talk it out, then go ahead. We’ve got at least ten minutes before our drinks arrive, you’ll just have to find something else to talk about for the other eight.”

  Last thing I wanted to hear about was Tibbs with women, but I wasn’t going to be the first one to flinch either.

  Tibbs laughed. “Tell me, Ricci. Do they teach you how to be so judgmental in cop school or you learn that on the job? You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

  “Oh pllllllleeeeasssee,” I scoffed, unwilling to accept there was any validity to his statement at all.

  Like none.

  Because I couldn’t be any less jealous if I tried.

  And jealous of what exactly? Of those women he treated like disposable razors? Like that was something to aspire to.

  “Wow, no wonder you guys need to ride around in a truck. Your egos wouldn’t fit in a regular sized vehicle.” I rolled my eyes, choking back the laugh.

  And to think I’d been attracted to him; I’d reallllly dodged that bullet.

  Leighton pointed his finger at me, shaking his head. “Hey, don’t include me in this shit. You two want to insult each other, have at it. But don’t be bringing the uniforms into it.”

  “Yeah, Ricci,” Tibbs chuckled as a smug grin edged at his lips.

  “You’re just as bad, Tibbs.” Leighton raised his brow, challenging his friend to say different.

  Tibbs pinned his buddy with a hard look but the smile he was fighting told a different story. “Where’s the loyalty, brother? I need better friends.”

  Leighton planted his feet on the floor, coughing out a laugh as he stood. “And on that note, I’m heading to the bathroom. Play nice, kids.”

  He shot us a grin as he walked off, leaving me alone with Tibbs while he disappeared into the crowd.

  Great.

  “It would take a lot longer than ten minutes.”

  “What?” My head whipped back around, Tibbs still wearing his smug grin.

  “Anything to do with me and women,” he qualified.

  “Oh really? Like ten real minutes? Or using guy measurements?” I asked, unable to stop myself. It was such a bad idea to continue . . . and yet . . . “You know that’s why so many women have trust issues. More than ten minutes, bigger than six inches. . . blah, blah, blah. Believing in alternate facts doesn’t make them true.”

  He coughed, his eyes darkening while he sucked in a full breath. “You know, all this talk, Ricci, I feel the need to defend my honor.”

  “And do what, Tibbs?” I was almost afraid to ask.

  He was kidding, right? He wasn’t seriously suggesting that we . . . What the hell was he suggesting?

  “You’re not dating anyone. I’m not dating anyone.” He waved his hand nonchalantly. “And you made some very serious accusations.”

  “I never said I wasn’t dating anyone,” I pointed out, wondering why out of everything he’d said, that was what I was focusing on.

  He leaned in closer, dropping his voice even though it was competing with the music. “Are you?”

  “No,” I answered honestly.

  “Neither am I.”

  It shouldn’t have mattered one way or another, but those words made my skin tingle. And the way he was looking at me made it even worse.

  I hated it.

  Hated that for some stupid reason I was still attracted to the jerk, especially knowing all I knew. And what? I should be grateful that he suddenly showed interest in me because I was wearing a goddamn dress?

  Hell.

  No.

  I was smarter than that.

  I was, wasn’t I?

  “What do I care?” I volleyed back, hoping he wouldn’t see through my bravado.

  His gaze dipped to my lips but didn’t drop any further, moving back to my eyes. “You’re not even a little bit curious?” he asked, his voice dangerously seductive.

  “No.” I sucked in a breath, doing my best to keep my voice from wavering even though inside I was hot and confused. “Why don’t I just go home now and be disappointed. It’s how the night will end anyway and at least then you can still live in your own delusion and I can save myself the time.”

  “A beer, old fashioned, and a soda.” Denise had returned, lowering the drinks from her tray one at a time onto the
low table in front of us. “Anything else I can get you?”

  It was perfect timing.

  Punctuating that it was definitely time to leave because I was on a very slippery slope with Tibbs.

  “Thanks.” I stood, picking up the tumbler and downing the drink in one big gulp. It burned, the rapid injection of whiskey heating my throat and making my eyes water. But sipping it and sticking around wasn’t an option either.

  “We’re good, Denise, thanks.” Tibbs waved her off, keeping his eyes glued to me.

  “Well, I should—” I didn’t get to finish my sentence, Tibbs already on his feet, wrapping his hand around my empty glass.

  “Go?” he asked, leaning in a little closer, a grin taunting me. “You running from me, Ricci?”

  I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that Justin Tibbs—a guy who’d never given me so much as a second glance—was hitting on me, but it suddenly seemed funny. “Oh, Tibbs. You really want to go there?” I laughed, arching a brow as I threw back a taunt of my own.

  I’d never run from anyone or anything, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

  “I’ll go anywhere you want to take me, Ricci. Anytime. Any place. To do anything you have in mind.” His head tipped toward the exit. “Where are we heading?”

  He was kidding of course, radiating his usual cockiness, because for the most part, women really did fall at his feet. And I totally understood it too, not blaming the poor souls who were captivated by his spell. They couldn’t help it; he wasn’t only incredibly nice to look at but could be ridiculously charming as well.

  But unlike those other women, I knew better. Besides, I’d inherited the willpower of my father and the stubbornness of my mother which mixed for a lethal combination. Not sure which of my awesome parents gifted me my sarcasm but that was another trait I was thankful for. Especially when I shot Tibbs a cocky grin of my own, making him falter a little.

  “Do you need to go tell Leighton?”

  He looked at me puzzled, narrowing his eyes as he tried to make sense of my question. “Tell him what?”

  “That you’re leaving.” I dropped a hand to my hip, resting it there casually as I continued. “Not sure what your arrangement was, but I wouldn’t want your bestie to be mad at you.”

  His eyes widened, the confusion all over his face. “I’m leaving?”

  I rolled my eyes trying to look bored. “Seriously? Did you not just say you’d go anywhere I want to take you? Or was that just idle chat?”

  He swallowed. Hard.

  Either he had been playing some game—knowing the chances of me saying yes were remote—or he hadn’t meant it. And I was really curious which of those reasons was responsible for wiping that confidence from his face.

  I liked it.

  Tibbs on edge, and knowing I’d been the one to put him there.

  “Ricci, I—” He stopped, taking a minute before sucking in a breath. It was all he needed, finding whatever confidence he’d lost as his eyes heated. “I’ll text him. Did you drive?”

  “No. We’ll grab a cab. Send your text, and I’ll let Miller know he’s without backup. You ready?” My head tilted toward the exit.

  “I’m always ready,” he leaned in and whispered, his breath tickling my neck. “Let’s see you put your money where that mouth is.”

  It was a staring competition.

  A game of chicken.

  A chess match, where one of us had to flinch, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be me.

  I had no idea if he genuinely thought he was going to end up sleeping with me, or he was calling me on my bullshit and refusing to be the first one to blink. And part of me was excited to find out which. I was clearly more jaded or bored than I first thought, the thrill of playing our little game making my skin tingle.

  Lowering my eyes for a minute, I quickly typed a text to Miller, asking him to confirm he was fine before I bailed. He’d looked solid the last time I’d glanced at him at the bar, but I wasn’t going to desert him either, even if I had a point to prove. Luckily —or unluckily, depending on how it all panned out—he responded quickly that he was doing great and was relieving me of my duty. He didn’t even ask questions, thanking me for the ride along and letting me know I would get a full debrief tomorrow. Good to know, but I wasn’t sure if it would be reciprocated.

  Tibbs seemed done with his little text exchange too, sliding his phone back into his pocket as I tossed mine into my purse, the grin he was wearing a little sexier than I would have liked.

  “Good to go?” I asked, arching a brow, knowing it was time to raise the stakes.

  He lowered his hand, his eyes searching for permission before pressing it tentatively against my back and throwing in a few extra chips of his own. “Soooooo good, Ricci. Let’s go.”

  I didn’t ask him to lift his hand, not entirely hating the pressure as he followed me toward the door. Marcus, the head of security, watched as we left, giving us a curt nod but not saying anything. It wasn’t his style, the man who was a slab of granite with zero emotion flicked his eyes back to the club as we stepped out onto the street.

  “Your place?” Tibbs asked, raising his hand and flagging a cab. He looked pleased, biting back his grin as he kept his palm pressed to my body. I liked the way it felt, my skin tingling under his touch. It was hard not to lean into it, refusing to give him the satisfaction even though I wanted more of it.

  The cab stopped in front of us, my answer given as I tossed out my address to the driver while we slid into the backseat.

  I wasn’t sure exactly what I was doing.

  But there was no way I was going to lose.

  Justin

  SHE WAS PLAYING me.

  Had to be.

  Because as hot as Ricci was—and baby, she was incredible—there wasn’t a chance she was going to take me home for hot sex with no repercussions.

  It didn’t work that way.

  Not with girls like her.

  So instead of ending the night how I’d prefer—both of us naked and me touching that fine body of hers—I was walking around a field of landmines, just waiting to see which one went off.

  It made me hard.

  The element of danger attached to it making my balls draw up tight. And I couldn’t have wiped the smile off my face if I’d tried.

  “You live in Brooklyn?” I asked as we crossed the bridge, watching as the city was left in our rearview. I’d assumed she lived around the precinct, the commute from the outer borough to Midtown, not one I’d sign up for.

  “You sound surprised. Not everyone can afford that Manhattan rent. Even out in Flatbrush, it’s more than I’d like.”

  She was right about that. Real estate surges had made housing prices ridiculously expensive, but that wasn’t why I was surprised. It was that I’d never really asked, or even bothered to find out. We’d hung out—had a drink or two along with other members of our crews—but it never occurred to me she didn’t live in my neighborhood. Not that it mattered either way, it was just curious that I’d known her for a few years and something as basic as her address had been a mystery. Especially since she’d obviously known mine.

  “You stalking me, Ricci?” I asked casually, pretending like the thought didn’t thrill me a little. “Guess it’s hard to issue a restraining order on yourself. But if it helps, know there will be no formal complaint lodged by me.”

  She rolled her eyes, her lips twitching into a grin. “Don’t flatter yourself, Tibbs. We have your address on file from when you made the report against Presley’s ex-boyfriend. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll leave an anonymous tip that you’re running a meth lab out of your Hell’s Kitchen apartment. That’ll get you all kinds of sexy attention.” Her brows lifted at the suggestion.

  “Stop teasing me, Ricci,” I chuckled, pretending like hearing her whisper the word “sexy” didn’t turn me on more than it should. It didn’t even matter what context it had been in, my eyes flicking to her mouth and wondering what it w
ould be like to kiss her.

  Bad idea, Tibbs. Especially when the attempt might be met with being tazed and a face full of pepper spray. And strangely those odds didn’t make me any less hard.

  Her fingers reached up and tossed her dark hair off her shoulder, radiating the same confidence and control I’d seen her rock a million times before in her PD blues. If she was edgy or uncertain, she sure wasn’t showing it, pulling out some bills from her purse to pay the driver as we slowed to a stop.

  “Here, let me.” I pulled my wallet from my back pocket, grabbing some cash and handing it over before she had the chance.

  She eyed me hard, the annoyance radiating off her skin. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Since when do I do anything I have to?” I asked, cracking open the door and stepping onto the sidewalk. She wasn’t far behind, shuffling off the seat and managing to get out of the car without letting me see what kind of panties she was wearing.

  Impressed—and a little disappointed—I waited for her to adjust the hem of her dress; her fingers curled around her keys as she led me to the front exterior door.

  With no words exchanged, I followed her inside the main foyer and then up two flights of stairs. I hung back a little, unable to peel my eyes from her amazing ass as her athletic legs climbed with what seemed like no effort. She could probably run those steps even in those heels, the confident flex of those muscles sexier than any porn I’d ever seen.

  Oh, and I still had no idea what the hell we were doing, finding myself inside her apartment as she turned on the light and locked the door behind us.

  “So.” She anchored a hand on her hip, tipping her head to the side like she was inspecting me.

  “So,” I echoed back, keeping a foot or so distance between us and not hating the attention. “Now you have me here, what are you going to do with me?” I had a list in case she needed it, and all of them involved me touching her.

  Her lips pressed into a pout like she was giving it some serious consideration, holding her arms across her chest enhancing what was already a sensational pair of tits. “Why don’t you take your clothes off.”