Shelley Cooper - Laura And The Lawman

Her laughter was light and amused. “Trust me, Michael. I would never be so blunt with a man I’m seeing romantically.”

No, he thought sourly. She’d just bat those impossibly long eyelashes of hers at him, and he’d dissolve into a puddle of testosterone need.

Just an hour ago he’d been certain he knew all there was to know about Ruby O’Toole. But after her discourse on man’s and woman’s need for power—and after telling him how much she needed to sublimate all her wants and desires to those of the man who would take care of her—he wasn’t certain at all. Then there was her disclaimer about any knowledge of an advanced crossword puzzle clue, followed by her calling him on the carpet for acting out of character.

He wasn’t about to go so far as admitting that there might be some depth to her, after all. But he would concede he didn’t know everything he thought he did.

Just who are you, Ruby O’Toole? More important, what are you up to? What secrets do you know? And how do I get you to tell them to me?

They stopped for lunch at a diner outside of Beckley, West Virginia. To Antonio’s surprise, Ruby ordered a cheeseburger, French fries and a chocolate shake. He watched in silence as she took a bite of her cheeseburger, then closed her eyes. A look of rapture crossed her face, and she chewed lustily.

Even though he didn’t like her all that much, Antonio felt the stirring of arousal at the sight. His own food forgotten, he sat back in his chair and watched her. When a rivulet of juice ran down her chin, he had to fight the urge to lean forward and taste it for himself. Did she make love with as much abandon as she ate?

“Napkin?” He plucked one from the receptacle on the table and thrust it toward her.

“Thanks.” She took the proffered item from him with a smile. When her chin was dry, she asked, “Aren’t you hungry?”

He blinked. “What?”

She nodded toward his plate. “You haven’t eaten anything.”

Antonio picked up his club sandwich and took a bite. He didn’t taste a thing.

Ruby tossed him a curious glance before returning to her meal.

He didn’t know what was worse: the silence between them, during which his arousal continued to grow painfully as he covertly watched her, or the small talk that inevitably ended up in the opposite direction from the one he intended to take.

At least with small talk he’d have something else to concentrate on. If he just sat here, watching her eat, by the time they paid the bill he’d be so aroused he’d be walking funny.

Of course, with all the blood in his body centered in one vital organ, his powers of thought were severely limited at the moment. Still, if he tried hard enough, he should be able to come up with something to say.

“You’re really going to eat all that food?” was the brilliant opening he finally led with.

She arched an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I?”

Antonio tried to sound nonchalant. “It’s not exactly low in fat. I just assumed, like most women, you spend all your time watching your figure.”

Ruby picked up a French fry. Tilting her head back, she opened her mouth. Three clean bites with her incredibly straight teeth, and the French fry disappeared. Antonio was sweating by the time she swallowed.

“Watching my figure is for men to do,” she said, picking up another fry.

He welcomed the shaft of irritation that took his arousal down a few degrees. “You keep eating like that, all they’re going to watch is you ballooning up in size.”

“Hasn’t happened yet,” she said, dismissingly.

“Bad habits eventually catch up to us all.”

She gave him a curious glance. “So I’ve been told. Okay, Michael, I’m game. What should I be eating?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “A salad, maybe?”

“Rabbit food, you mean.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Yes.”

“I don’t find it filling. Besides, depending on what you put on a salad, it could have more fat than this cheeseburger. Were you aware of that?”

“I was just making an observation,” he said.

“You seem to make a lot of them.” She took a sip of her milkshake, then added, “Want to know the real secret of keeping your weight at a manageable level? It’s quite simple.”

“Sure.”

“Everything in moderation.”

“Everything in moderation,” he repeated.

She nodded. “You can eat foods high in fat, if you balance them out with fruits and vegetables. And exercise, of course.”

“Everything in moderation,” he murmured again, his gaze on his plate. He looked up. “Does that go for your love life, too?”

She met his gaze unflinchingly. “Sex life, you mean.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What you’re really asking about is my sex life.”

Here they were again: due east, when he’d thought they were headed west. He’d expected a typical Ruby comment along the lines of moderation having nothing to do with her love life. Instead she’d turned the tables on him.

Before he could frame an answer to her question, she asked him an even harder one. “Why are you so interested in my sex life?”

Because I want to be a part of it. Because I’m attracted to you, and I’m disappointed you’re not the woman I need you to be in order to allow you to become a part of it.

“I’ve never met another woman quite like you.” That, at least, was the truth. “I guess I’m just trying to understand you. Since you admittedly use sex to get power, I thought it was a fair question.”

To his relief she looked pleased, rather than offended. Finally he’d said something right.

“It might be a fair question,” she replied, “but I hope you’ll understand if I decline to answer.”

“Of course.”

“Are you married?” she asked.

Antonio nearly choked on his iced tea. “You’re asking me that now? After the way you came on to me Saturday?”

“So far as I remember, we never did establish your marital status,” she replied. “Besides, I told you I’m an incorrigible flirt. Marital status isn’t the first thought that enters my mind when I meet an attractive man.”

He had no business being so pleased that she thought he was attractive. “Since you’re already involved with someone, why should you care?”

“I’m just trying to figure you out…like you are with me. So,” she asked again, “are you?”

He wondered what she would do if he told her the truth. That, to the endless frustration of his family, the thought of marriage always left him feeling claustrophobic. His life was crowded enough as it was. While the relatives of other undercover cops worried incessantly over their safety, his five brothers and his sister were terrified he’d never settle down. In this case, at least, Antonio’s truth was also Michael’s truth.

“Do I look like I’m married?”

Her smile grew broader. “Trust me. I know a lot of married men who neither look nor act married.”

He’d just bet she did. “I see.”

“I’ll try one more time. Are you married, Michael?”

He was Michael Corsi, he reminded himself. It was about time he remembered it and acted accordingly.

“Hardly,” he said, injecting as much disdain as he could into the word.

She tilted her head and eyed him carefully. “You got something against marriage?”

He spread his arms in a devil-may-care manner. “Nothing, except it would cramp my style.”

“What is your style? Love ’em and leave ’em?”

“Some people have said that.”

“Interesting,” Ruby commented.

“What?”

“Obviously you see nothing wrong in being a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy, but you definitely find something wrong with my being an incorrigible flirt. Does anyone but me see a double standard at work here?”