Kylie Brant: An Irresistible Man

That one soft word seemed to rock him for an instant. That was the sum total of his reaction. He tossed her one of the vests he was holding, turned and started walking out the door.

She caught his arm as he went by her. “Cruz, wait.”

That dark gaze-the one that she could remember hot with passion, sharp with intent, soft with tenderness-now looked as though it could cut through ice. He looked at her, then pointedly at his arm. Reading his message as clearly as if it had been etched in stone, she dropped her hand. “Please, wait,” she said again, aware of the pleading note in her voice. “I can imagine what my father told you, but knowing him, I’m sure he got a twisted pleasure in breaking this news in the most hurtful way possible.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” She flinched at the caustic note in his tone. “There’s something about truth that, no matter how painful, is easier to take than a lie.”

“I never lied to you,” she said in a low tone.

His eyebrows arched. “No? Maybe you didn’t, in your mind. Somehow it seems a bit devious to me to sleep with a man you’re working to convict, but then, that’s semantics for you. It’s not actually a lie, no, it’s more… hmm. What would you call it? A complete lack of morals, perhaps?”

“I didn’t choose this assignment. And you weren’t the only detective being investigated.”

His smile held a hint of cruelty, and absolutely no amusement. “Then you’ve been busier than I thought.”

Desperation tinged her tone. “Internal Affairs had reason to believe that one of the detectives assigned to the gun investigations was involved in the supply side. Each of them was assigned a partner from I.A.”

“How many of us?” he snapped.

“Five. All from different districts.”

“Well? Don’t keep me in suspense.” He laughed shortly. “Which one of us was it?”

She hesitated. “We don’t know,” she finally answered. “There hasn’t been any luck so far linking any of the detectives to the gun supply.”

“Great,” he said, giving her a hard stare. “That means I haven’t been cleared, either, have I?” When she didn’t answer, he repeated sharply, “Have I?”

Her eyes were clear when she looked into his. “It’s not you.”

He held her gaze. “How do you know?”

“I just do. I didn’t have anything that cleared you to my captain, but when he asked me, I told him what I thought. You’re not the one.” Encouraged by his silence, she continued tentatively, “It all got twisted up, Cruz. Trying to do my job, trying to keep my feelings for you separate from the investigation…”

“And we know just how deep those feelings ran,” he interjected sarcastically. “You’re a remarkable woman, you really are. Sleep with a man and dig up all the dirt you can on him at the same time. I’ll say one thing for you, lady, you blindsided me. I never suspected your little plan for a moment.”

“There was no plan. I fell in love with you!” she blurted out desperately. The words hung in the air, shocking both of them. She’d never admitted their truth, not even to herself. But she couldn’t deny the feeling. Nor could she have chosen a worse time to voice it.

His jaw clenched. “Cheap shot, Maddy. Do the words `too little, too late’ mean anything to you?”

“Don’t say that,” she whispered. “Let me explain. You don’t know how it was.”

“I think I can guess.” His twisted smile held no amusement. “Don’t forget, I’ve been screwed by Internal Affairs before. Although your methods were a bit more literal, the end result is the same.”

Madeline didn’t know how long she remained in Connor’s office after Cruz slammed the door. His words hammered at her insides, and there was enough truth in them to make her whole body ache. How could she have let things go so far wrong? If she’d been able to tell him in her own time, in her own way, would things have been different? Or was it inevitable from the very beginning? She wearily acknowledged that it really didn’t matter now. To use Cruz’s words, the end result was the same. He’d walked out, and she’d lost him, just as she’d feared she would.

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, to stem the tears she could feel pooling there. She didn’t know how she was going to get through this. The knowledge that she’d hurt Cruz was the worst kind of pain of all. Ordinarily she could push all unpleasantness aside and throw herself into her work. She gave a choked laugh. Since she worked with Cruz, that wouldn’t be a possibility.

A rap on the doorjamb and a voice startled her. “Madeline? Are you done in there?”

She whirled around in dismay. While her whole world had fallen apart, Connor McLain had been waiting outside, no doubt wondering when he was going to get his office back. She crossed to his desk and snatched up some tissues from the box there and hurriedly blew her nose. “Yes,” she called out, her voice husky. She crossed to the door and opened it, not meeting his eyes as she apologized, “I’m sorry. That was rude. I… forgot where I was.” She meant to duck by him, not willing to be pinned in place by his assessing gaze. But before she was able, he spoke again.

“Mind staying for a minute?” Connor leaned against the door, an effective means of blocking this woman’s escape, should she be so inclined. Studying her, he realized that she would have made no such move. She looked as though she’d been leveled by a bulldozer.

“Care to tell me what that was all about?” he asked bluntly. “Cruz will tell me anyway, in time. I don’t remember when I last saw him looking the way he did when he walked out of here, and, lady, I think you’ve got some explaining to do.”

She let out a choked breath at his words. “Well, I’m afraid that will have to wait. I don’t have the authority to discuss this with you.” She walked to the door, and after staring at her intently for a moment he slowly moved aside.

“When the time comes, you will give me that explanation, Detective,” he said, sotto voce.

Her voice was weary when she answered. “I’m afraid that when the time comes for explanations, Lieutenant, you’re going to have to wait in line.”

Madeline made a trip to the rest room to restore a semblance of order to her makeup. Then she used a stall for privacy while she put the vest on. When she could delay it no longer, she headed back toward Cruz’s desk. She met him in the aisle, walking toward the door.

“C’mon,” he said brusquely, passing by and not turning to see whether she obeyed. “It’s time to head back to the warehouse.”

Madeline followed him silently. She’d never seen his face look like this before. Rarely was it without some remnant of humor, a crooked smile, a quirked eyebrow. Now it was as impassive as a statue’s, and she despaired of ever reaching him on any level again.

She waited awhile, but when it became obvious that he had no intention of speaking, she broke the silence. “I know you’re hurt and angry. But, Cruz, sometime we’re going to have to talk about this.”

His eyes never left the street in front of him. His voice, when he answered, was devoid of inflection. “Madeline, we have to work together. Maybe for a day more, a few days, tops. The only things we have to say to each other in that time have to do with the case. Do you understand me?”

“You can’t wish this situation away!” she exclaimed. “And you can’t pretend that we never happened.”

“No, I sure can’t, much as I’d like to.” His voice turned grim. “I’ve got a job to do, and we both know how good you are at your job, so let’s make an agreement right now. We both see this case through, and when it ends, it’s over. And, lady, let me tell you, the sight of you walking away for the last time will be the most welcome sight in the world.”