Convincing Alex
Page 28
"Thanks." Cream, no sugar, he noted as he sipped. She'd remembered. Was that part of her appeal? he wondered. The fact that she absorbed those little details about people? "You must be getting bored."
Taking a chance, she sat on the edge of his desk. "Why?"
"Nothing much going on." He gestured to indicate the pile of paperwork. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince her she was wasting her time. "If you have your TV cop doing this, it isn't going to up your ratings."
"We'll want to show different aspects of his work." She broke a candy bar in half and offered Alex a share. "Like the fact that he'd have to concentrate and handle this sort of paperwork and detail in the middle of all this chaos."
He took a bite. "What chaos?"
She smiled again, jotting down notes. He didn't even see it any longer, she realized. Or hear it. All the noise, the movement, the rush. Dozens of little dramas had taken place that morning, fascinating her, unnoted by him.
"They brought a drug dealer in over there." She gestured with a nod as she continued to write. "Skinny guy in a white fedora and striped jacket, wearing a heavy dose of designer cologne."
"Pasquale," Alex said, noting the description. "So?"
"You saw him?"
"I smelled him." He shrugged. "Wasn't my collar."
Chuckling to herself, Bess crossed her legs and got comfortable. "A Korean shopkeeper came rushing in shouting about vandalism at his store. He was so excited he lost most of his English. They sent out for an interpreter."
"Yeah, it happens." What was her point? he wondered.
She only smiled and finished her chocolate. "Right after that, they brought in a woman who'd been knocked around by her boyfriend. She was sitting over there—defending him, even while her face was swelling. The detective at the far end had a fight with his wife over the phone. He forgot their anniversary."
"Must have been Rogers. He's always fighting with his wife." Impatience rippled back. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Atmosphere," she told him. "You've stopped noticing it and become a part of it. It's interesting to see. And you're very organized," she added, licking chocolate from her thumb. "Not like Judd over there, with all his neat little piles, but in the way you spread things out and know just where to find the right piece of paper at the right time."
"I hate having you stare at me when I work." He slapped her hand away from the autopsy report.
"I know." Unoffended, she grinned. She leaned a little closer. There was something in her eyes besides humor, he noted. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen desire and amusement merged in the same expression before. And he certainly hadn't realized how the combination could make a man's blood hum. "You look very sexy plowing your way through all this, gun strapped to your side, your hair all messed up from raking your fingers through it. That keen, dangerous look in your eyes."
Mortified, he shifted in his chair. "Cut it out, McNee."
"I like the way your eyes get all dark and intense when you're taking down some important tidbit of information over the phone."
"For all you know, that was my dry cleaner."
"Uh-uh." She took his coffee to wash down the last bite of candy bar. "Tell me something, Alexi. Are you annoyed that I'm here, or are you nervous that I'm here?"
"Both." He rose. There must be something he had to do someplace else.
"That's what I thought." She hooked a finger around the strap of his holster. She wasn't afraid of the gun he wore. In fact, she was counting on talking him into letting her hold it one day. So that she could see how it felt. How he felt when he was forced to draw it. "You know, you haven't even kissed me."
"I'm not going to kiss you. Here."
She lifted her eyes, slowly. There was a definite dare in them. "Why not?"
"Because the next time I kiss you—" watching her, he slid a hand around her throat, his thumb caressing her collarbone, until her cocky smile faded away "—really kiss you, it's just going to be you and me. Alone. And I'm going to keep right on kissing you, and all sorts of other things, until there aren't any more rules. Any more reasons."
Was that what she wanted? She thought it was. Right now, when her skin was humming where his fingers lay, she thought it was exactly what she wanted. But there was something else, some complex mixture of yearning and fear, so unfamiliar it caused her to step back.
"What's wrong, McNee?" Delighted by her reaction, he let his hand slide down her shoulder and away. "Who's making who nervous now?"
"We're supposed to be working," she reminded him. "Not making each other nervous."
"Today, when I go off the clock, so do you."
"Stanislaski."
Alex's eyes stayed on hers another moment before flicking behind her. "Captain."
"Sorry to interrupt your social hour," he said sourly. "I need that report."
"Right here." Even as Alex was turning to reach for it, Bess was offering her hand to Trilwalter.
"Captain, it's so nice to meet you. I'm Bess McNee. I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate the department's cooperation today."
Trilwalter scowled at her a moment, then, remembering, stifled a sigh. "Right. You're the writer." A sneer twisted his mouth. "Soap operas."
"Yes, I am." Her smile made the fluorescents overhead dim. "I wonder… if I can have just a moment of your time? I know you're very busy, so I won't keep you."
He didn't want any part of her. He knew it, she knew it, and so did any of the cops hovering close enough to hear. But riding a desk had taught him that diplomacy was often his only weapon. Besides, once he made his feelings known, she'd be out of his hair and off finding another precinct to haunt.
"Why don't you come into my office, Ms. McNee?"
"Thank you." She shot a grin over her shoulder at Alex as she followed Trilwalter.
"You going to let her go in there alone?" Judd murmured.
"Yeah." Alex bit back a chuckle as he heard the glass of Trilwalter's door rattle. "Oh, yeah. And I'm going to enjoy it."
Taking a chance, she sat on the edge of his desk. "Why?"
"Nothing much going on." He gestured to indicate the pile of paperwork. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince her she was wasting her time. "If you have your TV cop doing this, it isn't going to up your ratings."
"We'll want to show different aspects of his work." She broke a candy bar in half and offered Alex a share. "Like the fact that he'd have to concentrate and handle this sort of paperwork and detail in the middle of all this chaos."
He took a bite. "What chaos?"
She smiled again, jotting down notes. He didn't even see it any longer, she realized. Or hear it. All the noise, the movement, the rush. Dozens of little dramas had taken place that morning, fascinating her, unnoted by him.
"They brought a drug dealer in over there." She gestured with a nod as she continued to write. "Skinny guy in a white fedora and striped jacket, wearing a heavy dose of designer cologne."
"Pasquale," Alex said, noting the description. "So?"
"You saw him?"
"I smelled him." He shrugged. "Wasn't my collar."
Chuckling to herself, Bess crossed her legs and got comfortable. "A Korean shopkeeper came rushing in shouting about vandalism at his store. He was so excited he lost most of his English. They sent out for an interpreter."
"Yeah, it happens." What was her point? he wondered.
She only smiled and finished her chocolate. "Right after that, they brought in a woman who'd been knocked around by her boyfriend. She was sitting over there—defending him, even while her face was swelling. The detective at the far end had a fight with his wife over the phone. He forgot their anniversary."
"Must have been Rogers. He's always fighting with his wife." Impatience rippled back. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Atmosphere," she told him. "You've stopped noticing it and become a part of it. It's interesting to see. And you're very organized," she added, licking chocolate from her thumb. "Not like Judd over there, with all his neat little piles, but in the way you spread things out and know just where to find the right piece of paper at the right time."
"I hate having you stare at me when I work." He slapped her hand away from the autopsy report.
"I know." Unoffended, she grinned. She leaned a little closer. There was something in her eyes besides humor, he noted. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen desire and amusement merged in the same expression before. And he certainly hadn't realized how the combination could make a man's blood hum. "You look very sexy plowing your way through all this, gun strapped to your side, your hair all messed up from raking your fingers through it. That keen, dangerous look in your eyes."
Mortified, he shifted in his chair. "Cut it out, McNee."
"I like the way your eyes get all dark and intense when you're taking down some important tidbit of information over the phone."
"For all you know, that was my dry cleaner."
"Uh-uh." She took his coffee to wash down the last bite of candy bar. "Tell me something, Alexi. Are you annoyed that I'm here, or are you nervous that I'm here?"
"Both." He rose. There must be something he had to do someplace else.
"That's what I thought." She hooked a finger around the strap of his holster. She wasn't afraid of the gun he wore. In fact, she was counting on talking him into letting her hold it one day. So that she could see how it felt. How he felt when he was forced to draw it. "You know, you haven't even kissed me."
"I'm not going to kiss you. Here."
She lifted her eyes, slowly. There was a definite dare in them. "Why not?"
"Because the next time I kiss you—" watching her, he slid a hand around her throat, his thumb caressing her collarbone, until her cocky smile faded away "—really kiss you, it's just going to be you and me. Alone. And I'm going to keep right on kissing you, and all sorts of other things, until there aren't any more rules. Any more reasons."
Was that what she wanted? She thought it was. Right now, when her skin was humming where his fingers lay, she thought it was exactly what she wanted. But there was something else, some complex mixture of yearning and fear, so unfamiliar it caused her to step back.
"What's wrong, McNee?" Delighted by her reaction, he let his hand slide down her shoulder and away. "Who's making who nervous now?"
"We're supposed to be working," she reminded him. "Not making each other nervous."
"Today, when I go off the clock, so do you."
"Stanislaski."
Alex's eyes stayed on hers another moment before flicking behind her. "Captain."
"Sorry to interrupt your social hour," he said sourly. "I need that report."
"Right here." Even as Alex was turning to reach for it, Bess was offering her hand to Trilwalter.
"Captain, it's so nice to meet you. I'm Bess McNee. I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate the department's cooperation today."
Trilwalter scowled at her a moment, then, remembering, stifled a sigh. "Right. You're the writer." A sneer twisted his mouth. "Soap operas."
"Yes, I am." Her smile made the fluorescents overhead dim. "I wonder… if I can have just a moment of your time? I know you're very busy, so I won't keep you."
He didn't want any part of her. He knew it, she knew it, and so did any of the cops hovering close enough to hear. But riding a desk had taught him that diplomacy was often his only weapon. Besides, once he made his feelings known, she'd be out of his hair and off finding another precinct to haunt.
"Why don't you come into my office, Ms. McNee?"
"Thank you." She shot a grin over her shoulder at Alex as she followed Trilwalter.
"You going to let her go in there alone?" Judd murmured.
"Yeah." Alex bit back a chuckle as he heard the glass of Trilwalter's door rattle. "Oh, yeah. And I'm going to enjoy it."
