knew his address and what kind of car he drove, and the fact that he’d received two speeding tickets in the past three years. It was the information on his car that returned the slightly sick feeling to her stomach now. Checking through the records for licenses on motor vehicles, she had found that he was the owner of a new model sports car, one that listed for more than his entire year’s salary.
When she’d checked his credit history she’d had another unpleasant surprise. He had only one outstanding loan, for some property listed at his address. He was obviously buying his home. So how, she wondered for the hundredth time, did someone who made the kind of money she did afford to buy an expensive toy for a car and pay cash for it?
The question had plagued her for the rest of the weekend. From what he’d told her about his family, she could discount the possibility that he’d received an inheritance. It sounded as though he and his siblings had been raised solely on the hard work of their parents.
She surreptitiously studied the man seated across from her. She was having a hard time imagining this man as a criminal. Right now he was trying to get comfortable on his stool. Finally he turned to the side to face her, resting his torso against the counter and leaning his head on his folded elbow Thinking of bow she’d spent her weekend made it difficult to meet his eyes, but she forced herself to do so.
“Did you get to the family dinner yesterday?” she asked with studied disinterest.
“Sure did. What did you do?”
“Not much.”
“Well, believe it or not, I spent much of the weekend on my knees.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Praying or begging?”
He laughed. “You have a wicked way of thinking, do you know that? I like that in a woman. Can’t you think of anything else I might have been doing? C’mon, Madeline, use your imagination.”
She did, and the images that floated through her mind gave her hot flashes. He was provocative just by
“I’ll have you know I was doing good deeds most of Saturday morning,” he informed her. “One of the tenants in the building where I live was moving out, so I helped him carry his things.”
“That wouldn’t have had you on your knees,” she blurted without thinking.
He grinned, amused that he’d caught her interest, despite her efforts to act otherwise. “No, that wouldn’t, would it?”
Their orders were placed in front of them, and he looked up from his grilled chicken breast to see her biting into a thick cheeseburger with huge enjoyment. “You’re a heart attack waiting to happen, lady,” he observed. And in more ways than one. When she’d shown up at work today wearing yet another jacket over tailored trousers, he’d been tempted to ask if she owned one of those in every color of the rainbow. But before eating, she’d slipped out of the cream-colored jacket and he was treated to the picture of her in a turquoise silk tank top, and the sight was impairing his ability to swallow.
Her arms were shapely and incredibly white. So was the skin above the rounded neckline of the top. When she put her sandwich down and reached for her glass, he was treated to the slightest hint of cleavage. He picked up his knife and fork and began sawing at his lunch with methodical precision. He needed something, anything, to take his mind off a mental picture of his own hand laid upon her chest. The contrast of his bronzed skin against her far fairer skin would be incredibly arousing. As a matter of fact, just imagining it was incredibly arousing, and he shifted uncomfortably on the stool. By sheer willpower he tried to push the flick of visual imagery from his mind and focus on eating. But somehow the simple process of chewing and swallowing wasn’t enough to keep teasing questions of what she looked like beneath that silky top from dancing across his mind. And when he heard her next words, sounding as if she were reading his every libidinous thought, he froze in the act of lifting the fork to his mouth.
“Are you sure I can’t tempt you?”
Chapter 6
Cruz’s eyes went slowly, disbelievingly to hers. “What?” he croaked.
“Go ahead. Live dangerously,” she urged.
It seemed an eternity before his fantasy-filled brain correctly interpreted her meaning, and noticed the cheeseburger she was holding out to him. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “I think you’re the one living dangerously.” More dangerously than she knew, he thought grimly, because her words, on the heels of his very impure thoughts, were enough to incite a saint. Which he definitely wasn’t. “And I think it’s safe to say that you could tempt me very easily,” he added with blatant meaning. “But not with that cheeseburger.”
Madeline’s eyes, full of fun a moment ago, grew uncertain. She lowered the sandwich and reached for her glass of milk, her hand a little unsteady. What had caused such a drastic change in his mood? she wondered. One minute he was lecturing her about her eating habits and the next he was talking as if… well, as if food were the last thing on his mind. But surely he hadn’t meant his words to sound that way. Had he?
“When they haul you into the operating room to unclog your arteries, remind me to say ‘I told you so.’” He changed the subject purposely. The last thing he needed was to be sidetracked by his awareness of her. He was no longer certain he could keep that out of their partnership, but it would surely help if he could restrain his overactive imagination. He chewed reflectively. He’d never before had such a problem. He was a master at separating the different areas of his life into neat compartments and never letting them mix. No woman had been allowed to creep into his thoughts when he was working, and that made Madeline even more troublesome. It was impossible not to think of her when he was working by her side eight hours a day. But he was going to have to be sure that his thoughts of her pertained only to the case. A week ago he would have been positive that such a thing would be easy. Now he was not so certain.
He finished eating before Madeline did, and she knew it was because of the difficulty she was having swallowing. She was thankful when the meal was over because, although he seemed to have no problem reverting back to his usual carefree manner, it was hard for her to forget his words. But she must have mistaken his meaning. He didn’t seem bothered at all now, just slightly impatient as he waited for her to finish.
She rose. Cruz followed, and his gaze went to her plate. The lettuce and tomato that she’d taken off her sandwich were piled neatly in a corner of the otherwise empty dish.
“Don’t tell me,” he drawled. “You don’t eat red things, either.”
“I’m sure you can find more interesting things to worry about than what I eat,” she said. She would copy his indifferent manner if it killed her. But she was startled when, at the door, he turned to her and took her jacket out of her hands.
“Put this on,” he ordered brusquely. “It’s a little chilly outside.”
She allowed him to help her with the jacket and walked out the door, puzzling over his abrupt mood changes.
Madeline drove for the rest of the afternoon, at Cruz’s direction. Three times he ordered her to stop the car and they got out. Each time they talked to men who were unenthusiastic about their presence there. All of them professed to have reformed, swearing that they were currently living saintly lives. None admitted to having any information that would help the investigation.
The next few days were spent in much the same way. After several mornings of sifting through the pages of serial numbers, they admitted defeat. No match for the number of Stover’s gun could be found. Nor were they having any better luck following up Cruz’s idea in the afternoons. It seemed as if the case were leading them to one dead end after another, and that made suspicion bloom in Madeline’s mind.
Was Cruz doing this purposely? The people they’d talked to were small-time, and none of them admitted to hearing of any AK-47s being sold on the streets. She had to wonder if this was just a wild-goose chase Cruz was leading her on; something that wasted a lot of time and energy, but brought them no closer to the supplier. It was what she would do if she was involved in the deal-come up with ideas that led the investigation farther away from her.
Her suspicions were strong enough that on two nights she left headquarters, and drove directly to the Internal Affairs building. She spent hours poring over her data bases, bringing up the names of people in the area who’d
