Four to Score

'I can tell.'

'You can tell nothing.'

'You're still mad at me for not calling.'

'I am not mad!' I slammed my fist down on the table, making my beer bottle jump in place.

'I meant to call,' Morelli said.

I stood and gathered the empty plates and the silverware. CRASH, clang, clang! 'You are a dysfunctional human being.'

'Oh yeah? Well, you're fucking frightening.'

'Are you saying you're afraid of me?'

'Any man in his right mind would be afraid of you. You know that scarlet letter thing? You should have a tattoo on your forehead that says 'Dangerous Woman. Stand Back!' '

I stormed into the kitchen and slapped the dishes onto the countertop. 'I happen to be a very nice person.' I turned on him and narrowed my eyes. 'What's so dangerous about me?'

'Lots of things. You have that look. Like you want to pick out kitchen curtains.'

'I do not have that look!' I shouted. 'And if I did it would not be for your kitchen curtains!'

Morelli backed me into the refrigerator. 'And then there's the way you make my heart beat fast when you get excited like this.' He leaned into me and kissed the curve of my ear. 'And your hair . . . I love your hair.' He kissed me again. 'Dangerous hair, babe.'

Oh boy.

His hands were at my waist and his knee slid between mine. 'Dangerous body.' His lips skimmed my mouth. 'Dangerous lips.'

This wasn't supposed to be happening. I had decided against this. 'Listen, Morelli, I appreciate the meatball sub and all, but . . .'

'Shut-up, Stephanie.'

And then he kissed me. His tongue touched mine, and I thought, Well, what the hell, maybe I am dangerous. Maybe this isn't such a bad idea. After all, there was a time when I'd wanted nothing more than a Morelli-induced orgasm. Well, here was my chance. It wasn't as if we were strangers. It wasn't as if I didn't deserve it.

'Maybe we should go into the bedroom,' I said. Get away from sharp knives in case something goes wrong and I'm tempted to stab him.

Morelli was wearing jeans with a navy T-shirt. Under the drape of the T-shirt he was wearing a pager and a .38. He unclipped his pager and put it in the refrigerator. He threw the bolt on the front door and kicked his shoes off in the hall.

'What about the gun?' I asked.

'The gun stays. Nothing's stopping me this time. You change your mind, and I'll shoot you.'

'Um, there's the issue of safety.'

He had his hand on his zipper. 'Okay, I'll leave it on the nightstand.'

'I wasn't talking about the gun.'

Morelli stopped the progress of the zipper. 'You're not on the pill?'

'No.' I didn't think sex once a millennium warranted it.

'What about . . .'

'I haven't got any of them, either.'

'Shit,' Morelli said.

'Nothing in your wallet?'

'You're going to find this hard to believe, but cops aren't required to carry emergency condoms.'

'Yes, but . . .'

'I'm not eighteen years old. I no longer score with nine out of ten women I meet.'

That was encouraging. 'I don't suppose you'd want to tell me the current ratio?'

'Right now, it's zero for zero.'

'We could try a plastic sandwich bag.'

Morelli grinned. 'You want me bad.'

'Temporary insanity.'

The grin widened. 'I don't think so. You've wanted me for years. You've never gotten over having me touch you when you were six.'

I felt my mouth drop open and instantly closed it with a snap, leaning forward, hands fisted to keep from strangling him. 'You are such a jerk!'