“You say it like it’s a death sentence. Yeah, a date. Dinner. Conversation.”
“Groping under the table and a blowjob in the restroom?”
“Yes to groping. No to the blowjob.”
“Boring.”
His gruff chuckle vibrated against her bare shoulder. “I don’t think ‘boring’ exists in your presence.”
“True, because I avoid dates where the guy would rather make conversation than get his dick sucked.”
“Chicken.”
She couldn’t see his face, but she knew it sported one of his big, sexy grins. Before she could protest his poultry accusation, the radio clipped to his uniform barked a bunch of numbers. He’d ignored all the previous garble—and it’d been chirping steadily since he walked in on her—but this time, he sighed and stepped out of the bathroom to answer the call.
She secured the towel around her torso once again, leaning on the doorframe while he communicated via codes and lingo that may as well have been a foreign language.
She’d never been a uniform-chaser. Cops were all about rules and order, first of all. Her Uncle Rick had been a prime example of that tediousness—until he died in the line of duty, responding to a domestic disturbance call. His training and body armor hadn’t protected him from the sharp edge of an enraged drunk’s broken tequila bottle. He’d bled out before paramedics could get to him, because his assailant had held them off by holding the same makeshift weapon to his battered wife’s throat.
Sara hadn’t attended Rick’s funeral. But she had read some of the tributes, all of which praised Rick for his dedication to public service. Kind words and heartfelt sentiments. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t fill the void for his widow and son in the years to come.
As darkly delicious as Curtis looked in his blues, she couldn’t go there. Fire, accidents, illnesses… So many uncontrollable circumstances plucked people from their loved ones. She couldn’t take that chance with anybody. Especially not Curtis. The danger factor of a cop’s job made him a walking target for the grim reaper.
No more sexy interludes. Definitely no dates—even if it meant accepting the “chicken” label.
“Hey,” Curtis said, closing the gap between them. “It’s been a crazy day and I have to get to a call.”
She nodded. “Of course, go. I’m heading to work soon too.”
“Pick a day for that dinner. Unless you’re ready to admit defeat.” He ended the dare with a wink that made him sweet, sexy and cocky all at once.
Shit. The part of her brain that cranked out the smartass comebacks was totally blank. “No dinner. Consider me defeated.”
If he was surprised or disappointed, it didn’t show. The man had excellent control over his emotions and expressions. Yet he always let her see the good stuff—none of which was currently present on his handsome face. He simply acknowledged her with a nod.
“Sorry to leave the books unbalanced,” she said as he headed for the stairs. “I would’ve liked to return the favor back in the bedroom.”
“You still planning to be here tomorrow afternoon?” At her lack of response, he added, “I’m not asking because I want to collect on the blowjob. I like to check on Zeus so he’s not alone all day, but I won’t stop by if you’re going to be here.”
“Oh. Yes, I’ll be here, taking advantage of the hot water.”
He nodded again, but didn’t take a step. “Hey, where’d you park—your car isn’t in the driveway or on the street.”
“It’s in the shop. Needs a new ignition distributor.”
“That’s going to be a hit on the wallet.”
“And last month it was brakes. Hence the lack of hot water at my apartment.”
“You chose automotive maintenance over paying your utility bill.” Another question masked as a statement. A Curtis specialty.
“It wasn’t a choice. That car is going to last forever, no matter what I have to sacrifice to foot the bill.”
Something flickered in his eyes. He didn’t outright smile, but one tugged at the corners of his mouth, threatening to break at any moment.
“About that dinner—I’m working late shifts through the rest of the week, but I’m available next Monday.” The words escaped before she had a chance to lock them down. Stupid impulses.
“Next Monday it is.” Now he smiled, full-on. And it was freaking glorious. “I’ll pick you up at five.”
Curtis
Curtis parked in front of Sara’s apartment building. Rundown, the same as every other property on the block. Not quite to “slum” level, but definitely on its way.
He locked the car and headed up the cracked sidewalk. Somebody had propped the building’s outer door open with a cinder block, and the inner door with an ancient, filthy garbage can that couldn’t hold another piece of trash if the future of the planet depended on it. Classy. The vestibule had a buzzer and intercom system, but no fucking way he was touching it. Not in this sty.
He pressed the elevator button with his elbow. Kinda lazy, taking the elevator to the fourth floor, but who knows what he’d find in the stairwell if he went that route. The metal doors slid open. He took one step into the mirrored elevator and stifled a gag. Directly ahead—a gob of semi-dried spit…or other bodily fluid.
Working the desk at a health club probably didn’t pay much, but surely Sara could find somewhere better to live than this shithole. Such as a cardboard box next to a Dumpster. Anything would be better than this place.
The doors slid open and he stepped into the fourth-floor corridor. Dreary and dated, no surprise there. Curtis held his breath as he passed the first two apartments. He was all for trying new things, but whatever was cooking behind those doors, count him out. No scent hovered in the air near unit 403’s door. No noise either, just dead silence.
Heat crept up his neck, past his shirt collar. Sara regretted making this date the second she agreed to it—it’d been written all over her face. If she’d taken off as a means of avoiding him, rather than have the decency to cancel…
The door opened before his knuckles connected with the dingy metal slab.
“You’re early,” she said as they came face-to-face.
“Hoping to make a getaway?”
“If I wanted to get away from you, I’d already be gone.” She pulled the door closed behind her and crossed her arms over cleavage so lush he wanted to dive in right now, in spite of their disgusting surroundings. “I thought I’d wait for you at the curb, so you didn’t have to leave the Mustang unattended in the hood.”
“You park your car here.”
“Hell no, I don’t. I made nice with the manager of the funeral home a couple blocks over. That’s where I park.”
“Shit.” He pushed away the mental image of some punk-ass kid defiling his car. Whatever happened, happened. Sara took priority. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. You look fantastic. As usual.”
“Dude, hold the flattery. Black beauty needs us to rescue her, let’s go.”
He shook his head but let her tug him into motion. A woman more concerned with his car’s well-being than having her ego stroked. Not a lot of those around, he bet. Even fewer who looked like a walking wet dream in a short, formfitting black dress and high-heeled boots. Talk about hitting the jackpot.