It Must Be Love

forward to taking a nice warm soak in the tub when she got home. But fifteen minutes later, she found herself sitting on Joe's beige-and-brown sofa, the beady yellow-and-black eyes of his parrot pinning her to the couch. Across the living room Joe stood with his back to her, the cradle of a telephone dangling from one hand, the receiver in the other. He spoke just low enough not to be heard, then walked into the dining room, the long cord trailing after him.

'You've got to ask yourself one question. Do I feel lucky? Well do ya-punk?'

Gabrielle jumped and turned her full attention to Sam. 'Excuse me?'

The parrot flapped his wings twice, then flew to the arm of the couch. He rocked from one foot to the other, then tilted his head to the side and studied her.

'Ahh… Polly want a cracker?'

'Go ahead, make my day,'

She supposed it made perfect sense that Joe's bird would quote Dirty Harry. She sat perfectly still as the bird walked along the back of the couch, a blue metal band around one scaly leg. 'Nice parrot' she said softly and glanced in Joe's direction. He still stood in the dining room, his back to her, his weight resting on one foot. He cradled the receiver between his shoulder and ear and massaged his other shoulder with his opposite hand. For a brief second, she wondered if he'd hurt himself helping her over the retaining walls, but then Sam let out a shrill whistle, and she forgot about Joe. The bird swayed back and forth, then hopped on her shoulder.

'You behave.'

'Joe,' she called out, keeping her gaze on Sam's black beak.

Sam laid his head against her temple and puffed out his chest. 'Pretty bird.'

Gabrielle had never been around birds before, let alone had one stand on her shoulder. She didn't know what to do or say. She didn't know anything about bird behavior, but she knew she didn't want to make him mad. She'd seen the Alfred Hitchcock classic many times, and the image of Suzanne Pleshette with her eyes pecked out flashed through her head. 'Nice parrot,' she said and glanced across the room. 'Help.'

Joe finally looked over his shoulder at her, his now familiar scowl lowering his brows as he spoke a few words into the receiver. After a few terse sentences, he finished the call and walked back into the living room. 'Sam, what do you think you're doing?' he asked as he set the telephone on the coffee table. 'Get off her.'

The bird rubbed his soft head against Gabrielle, but didn't hop from her shoulder.

'Come on now.' Joe patted his own shoulder. 'Come here.' Sam didn't move.

Instead he dipped his head and touched his beak to her cheek. 'Pretty bird.'

'Well, I'll be damned.' Joe put his hands on his hips and cocked his head to one side. 'He likes you.'

She wasn't convinced. 'Really? How can you tell?'

Joe moved to stand directly in front of her. 'He kissed you,' he said, then he leaned forward and placed his hand just below Sam's feet. 'Lately, he's been in the mood for a mate.' Joe snapped his fingers, and the side of his hand brushed her chest through her white blouse. 'I guess he thinks he's found a girlfriend.'

'Me?'

'Uh-huh.' His gaze lowered to her mouth, then returned to the parrot. 'Step up, Sam. Be a good bird.' Finally Sam obeyed and hopped onto Joe's hand.

'You behave.'

'Me? I'm not the guy rubbing my head against a pretty girl and kissing her. I am behaving. Well, I am tonight anyway.' He flashed her a smile, then walked to the huge cage sitting in front of a big picture window.

Gabrielle stood and watched him run a careful hand over Sam's feathers before he placed him in the cage. The big bad cop wasn't so big and bad after all. 'Does he really think I'm a potential girlfriend?'

'Probably. He's been shredding the newspaper and roosting on his stuffed animals again.' Sam hopped on a perch, and Joe dosed the wire door. 'But I've never seen him behave like he did with you. He usually gets really jealous of the women I bring home and tries to chase them out the front door.'

'I guess I lucked out,' she said, now wondering how many women he brought to his house, and again, why she should care.

'Yeah, he wants to roost with you.' He turned and looked at her. 'I can't say that I blame him.'

As compliments went; it wasn't great. But for some peculiar reason his words settled near her heart and made her pulse leap. 'You suck at flattery, Shanahan.'

He just smiled like he knew better and motioned toward the door. 'Do you need to stop anywhere on the way home? Maybe run in somewhere and get dinner?'

She stood and followed him. 'Are you hungry?'

'No, I thought you might be.'

'No, I ate before Kevin's party.'

'Oh.' He glanced at her across his shoulder. 'Oh, okay.'

During the drive to Gabrielle's house, her thoughts once again turned to the type of women Joe might bring home. She wondered what they looked like, and if they looked like Nancy. She bet they did.

Joe seemed just as distracted as Gabrielle, and neither of them spoke until she made an attempt at conversation three blocks from her house. 'Kevin gives an interesting party.' She was sure he'd have a lot to say about that.

He didn't. He just kind of grunted and said, 'Kevin's a fool.'

She gave up, and they rode the rest of the short way in silence. He didn't say anything as he walked her up the sidewalk or when he took the keys from her hand. The pink porch light caressed his profile and lingered in the soft curls above his ear as he bent forward and opened the door. He straightened and moved his shoulder as if it still bothered him.

'Did you hurt yourself helping me tonight?' she asked.

'I pulled a muscle the other day moving those shelves in your store, but I'll live.'

He straightened, and she looked at him, into his tired dark eyes, the beginning of another five O'clock, and the stress creasing his forehead. 'I could give you a massage,' she suggested before she gave herself time to think better of the offer.

'Do you know how?'

'Of course.' Visions of Joe served up in nothing but a towel drifted through her head and warmed the pit of her stomach. 'I'm almost a professional.'

'You mean, like you're almost a vegetarian?'

'Are you making fun of me again?' She'd taken classes on massage and, although she wasn't a certified masseuse, she considered herself semipro.

His quiet laughter stretched across the still night air and wrapped her up in the depth of the masculine sound. 'Of course,' he admitted without shame.

At least he was honest. 'I bet I could have you feeling better in twenty minutes.'

'What do you want to bet?'

'Five bucks.'

'Five bucks? Make it ten and you're on.'

Chapter Twelve

Joe took one look at the littletowel offered him and tossed it on the sofa. He preferred the loose-fit freedom of boxers. He liked lots of ball room to give the boys a chance to breathe, and there was no way he was going to run the risk of his goods hoisting that towel into a tepee.

He shifted his weight to one foot and rested his hands on his hips. Hell, he shouldn't even be standing in the middle of Gabrielle's living room. He should be on his way home, to a good night's sleep. He had a briefing at eight the next morning to discuss the stolen antiques he'd seen in Kevin's guest room. He needed to be rested and to have a clear head when he prepared the affidavit he would use to obtain a search warrant. The wording had to be clear and concise and as tight as a virgin's coochie. If not, he'd run the risk of having anything seized during a search thrown out later at trial. There were other things he needed to do to-night, too. He needed to do some