Convincing Alex
Page 20
"Sounds like the lady needs a shrink."
"Actually, she'll go to Elana—she's a psychiatrist—but that's down the road a bit. And under hypnosis—Ah, here's the food." At the elevator's ding, Bess opened the door. The smile froze on her face.
"Alexi."
"Don't you bother to ask who it is before you let someone come up?" He shook his head before he caught her chin in his hand and kissed her.
"Yes—that is, not when I'm expecting someone. What are you doing here?"
"Kissing you?" And, at that moment, she wasn't as responsive as he'd come to expect. Then it occurred to him that she'd said she was expecting someone. A man? A date? A lover? His eyes cooled as he stepped back. "I guess I should have called first."
"No. I mean, yes. That is… are you off tonight?"
"I go back on in a couple hours."
"Oh. Well." The buzzer sounded again.
"You could always tell him I'm the plumber."
Baffled, she stepped back inside to release the elevator. "Tell who what?"
"The guy on his way up."
"Why should I tell the delivery boy you're a plumber?"
"Delivery boy?" A sound inside the apartment had him edging closer. He wasn't jealous, damn it, he was just curious. "I guess you've already got company," he began, and pushed the door wider.
"Actually, I do." Giving up, Bess gestured him inside. "We were just about to have some dinner."
He looked over at the couch just as Rosalie stood. Caught between them, Bess felt herself battered by double waves of hostility.
"What the hell is she doing here?"
"You called the cops," Rosalie said accusingly before Bess could answer. "You called the damn cops."
"No. No, I didn't."
Rosalie was already striding across the room. Bess knew that if the woman made it to the door she would have lost her chance. "Rosalie." She grabbed her arm. "I didn't call him."
"And why the hell didn't you?" Alex tossed back.
"Because it's none of your business." Still gripping Rosalie, Bess swirled on him. "This is my home, and she's my guest."
"And you're a bigger idiot than I thought."
Sizing up the situation, Rosalie relaxed fractionally. "You two got a thing?"
"Yes," Alex shot back.
"No," Bess snapped, then sighed. "Something in between the two," she mumbled. She snatched her wallet out of her bag as she heard the elevator ding. "Excuse me. That's dinner."
While she herded the delivery boy inside to set up the meal, Alex and Rosalie stood eyeing each other with mutual dislike and suspicion.
"What's the game, Rosalie?"
"No game." She flashed a smile that was as feral as a shark's. "I'm a paid consultant. Your lady hired me."
"The hell with that." He paused a moment, studying her bruised eye. "Bobby do that?"
Rosalie angled her chin. "I walked into a door."
"Sure you did." He did care. Bess might have been surprised at how much he cared. Rosalie certainly would have been stunned. But he also knew there were things that couldn't be fixed. "You'll want to watch your step."
"I don't make the same mistake twice."
He turned away from her, his hands balled into fists in his pockets. "McNee, I want to talk to you."
"Oh, just shut up." She didn't bother to look up as she counted out bills. "Can't you see I'm trying to figure the tip? There you go."
"Thanks, lady." The delivery boy tucked the bills away. "Enjoy your dinner."
"There's enough for three," Bess stated, turning toward Alex. "But you're not going to stay if you're rude."
"Rude?" The single word bounced off her ceiling. He was beside her in two strides. "You think it's rude for me to ask you if you've lost your mind when I walk in and find you've invited a hooker to dinner?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Out."
"Damn it, Bess…"
"I said out." She gave him a hefty shove toward the door. "We went on one date," she reminded him. "One. Maybe I entertained the idea of something more, but that gives you no right to come into my house and tell me what to do and who to talk with."
He grabbed her hand before she could push him again. "One has nothing to do with the other."
"You're right. Absolutely right. What I should have said is that I run my life, Detective." She snatched her hand away so that she could poke a finger at his chest. "Me. Alone. Get the picture?"
"Yeah." He wondered how she'd like a nice clip on that pointy little chin of hers. "I've got a picture for you." He hauled her up and kissed her hard. No gentle touch, no finesse. All steam heat. It lasted only seconds, but he succeeded in shocking her speechless. "Things change, McNee." Dark, furious eyes pinned her to the spot. "Get used to it."
With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
"Well." Bess took one breath, then another. Her throat felt scalded. "Of all the incredible nerve. Who the hell does he think he is, marching in here that way?" Hands on her hips, she spun to face Rosalie. "Did you see that?"
"Hard to miss it." Grinning, Rosalie snatched a french fry from a plate.
"If he thinks he's getting away with that—that attitude—he's very much mistaken."
"Man's nuts about you."
"Excuse me?"
"Girl, that was one lovesick puppy."
Bess snatched up her wine and gulped. "Don't be ridiculous. He was just showing off."
"Uh-huh. If I had me a man who looked at me like that, I'd do one of two things."
"Which are?"
"I'd either sit back and enjoy, or I'd run for my life."
Frowning, Bess sat down and picked up her fork. "I don't like to be pushed."
"Seems to me it depends on who's doing the pushing." She sat, as well, and dug right into her steak. "He sure is one fine-looking man—for a cop."
Bess stabbed at her salad. "I don't want to talk about him."
"Actually, she'll go to Elana—she's a psychiatrist—but that's down the road a bit. And under hypnosis—Ah, here's the food." At the elevator's ding, Bess opened the door. The smile froze on her face.
"Alexi."
"Don't you bother to ask who it is before you let someone come up?" He shook his head before he caught her chin in his hand and kissed her.
"Yes—that is, not when I'm expecting someone. What are you doing here?"
"Kissing you?" And, at that moment, she wasn't as responsive as he'd come to expect. Then it occurred to him that she'd said she was expecting someone. A man? A date? A lover? His eyes cooled as he stepped back. "I guess I should have called first."
"No. I mean, yes. That is… are you off tonight?"
"I go back on in a couple hours."
"Oh. Well." The buzzer sounded again.
"You could always tell him I'm the plumber."
Baffled, she stepped back inside to release the elevator. "Tell who what?"
"The guy on his way up."
"Why should I tell the delivery boy you're a plumber?"
"Delivery boy?" A sound inside the apartment had him edging closer. He wasn't jealous, damn it, he was just curious. "I guess you've already got company," he began, and pushed the door wider.
"Actually, I do." Giving up, Bess gestured him inside. "We were just about to have some dinner."
He looked over at the couch just as Rosalie stood. Caught between them, Bess felt herself battered by double waves of hostility.
"What the hell is she doing here?"
"You called the cops," Rosalie said accusingly before Bess could answer. "You called the damn cops."
"No. No, I didn't."
Rosalie was already striding across the room. Bess knew that if the woman made it to the door she would have lost her chance. "Rosalie." She grabbed her arm. "I didn't call him."
"And why the hell didn't you?" Alex tossed back.
"Because it's none of your business." Still gripping Rosalie, Bess swirled on him. "This is my home, and she's my guest."
"And you're a bigger idiot than I thought."
Sizing up the situation, Rosalie relaxed fractionally. "You two got a thing?"
"Yes," Alex shot back.
"No," Bess snapped, then sighed. "Something in between the two," she mumbled. She snatched her wallet out of her bag as she heard the elevator ding. "Excuse me. That's dinner."
While she herded the delivery boy inside to set up the meal, Alex and Rosalie stood eyeing each other with mutual dislike and suspicion.
"What's the game, Rosalie?"
"No game." She flashed a smile that was as feral as a shark's. "I'm a paid consultant. Your lady hired me."
"The hell with that." He paused a moment, studying her bruised eye. "Bobby do that?"
Rosalie angled her chin. "I walked into a door."
"Sure you did." He did care. Bess might have been surprised at how much he cared. Rosalie certainly would have been stunned. But he also knew there were things that couldn't be fixed. "You'll want to watch your step."
"I don't make the same mistake twice."
He turned away from her, his hands balled into fists in his pockets. "McNee, I want to talk to you."
"Oh, just shut up." She didn't bother to look up as she counted out bills. "Can't you see I'm trying to figure the tip? There you go."
"Thanks, lady." The delivery boy tucked the bills away. "Enjoy your dinner."
"There's enough for three," Bess stated, turning toward Alex. "But you're not going to stay if you're rude."
"Rude?" The single word bounced off her ceiling. He was beside her in two strides. "You think it's rude for me to ask you if you've lost your mind when I walk in and find you've invited a hooker to dinner?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Out."
"Damn it, Bess…"
"I said out." She gave him a hefty shove toward the door. "We went on one date," she reminded him. "One. Maybe I entertained the idea of something more, but that gives you no right to come into my house and tell me what to do and who to talk with."
He grabbed her hand before she could push him again. "One has nothing to do with the other."
"You're right. Absolutely right. What I should have said is that I run my life, Detective." She snatched her hand away so that she could poke a finger at his chest. "Me. Alone. Get the picture?"
"Yeah." He wondered how she'd like a nice clip on that pointy little chin of hers. "I've got a picture for you." He hauled her up and kissed her hard. No gentle touch, no finesse. All steam heat. It lasted only seconds, but he succeeded in shocking her speechless. "Things change, McNee." Dark, furious eyes pinned her to the spot. "Get used to it."
With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
"Well." Bess took one breath, then another. Her throat felt scalded. "Of all the incredible nerve. Who the hell does he think he is, marching in here that way?" Hands on her hips, she spun to face Rosalie. "Did you see that?"
"Hard to miss it." Grinning, Rosalie snatched a french fry from a plate.
"If he thinks he's getting away with that—that attitude—he's very much mistaken."
"Man's nuts about you."
"Excuse me?"
"Girl, that was one lovesick puppy."
Bess snatched up her wine and gulped. "Don't be ridiculous. He was just showing off."
"Uh-huh. If I had me a man who looked at me like that, I'd do one of two things."
"Which are?"
"I'd either sit back and enjoy, or I'd run for my life."
Frowning, Bess sat down and picked up her fork. "I don't like to be pushed."
"Seems to me it depends on who's doing the pushing." She sat, as well, and dug right into her steak. "He sure is one fine-looking man—for a cop."
Bess stabbed at her salad. "I don't want to talk about him."
