a wild half-second, Audra wasn’t sure she would be
able to stop herself from laughing—knowing full
well that if the laughter started, the tears wouldn’t
be too far behind.
“But sir, it’s a waste of their time!” Audra insisted.
“It’s utterly groundless—”
Woodburn raised his silencing hand again. “I
know this is frustrating, Marks, but that’s procedure
and we’re going to follow it to the letter,” he said,
and his nonexistent lips disappeared that much
deeper into his face. “The rules require that any offi-
cer accused of misconduct toward an inmate be re-
moved from duty until a cause/no cause inquiry is
completed, so you’re officially on administrative leave
pending resolution of the investigation. Shouldn’t
be more than a week, I would guess.” He curved the
lower half of his face into a grim smile. “Try to think
of it as a well-deserved vacation, not as a discipli-
nary action.”
Audra suppressed a sigh. “I understand, sir.”
Woodburn took a nervous sip of his coffee.
“There’s . . . uh . . . one other thing,” he continued,
licking his lips. “Regarding the . . . uh . . . wardrobe
malfunction? That’s not likely to happen again, is it?
Because it poses . . . uh . . . all kinds of problems. I
DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
37
mean, this is a men’s correctional institution and—”
“I know, sir. It’s not appropriate for a woman to—”
“Oh, it’s not that,” Woodburn said, dismissing her
femininity behind another quick gulp of his mug.
“It’s a question of maintaining authority and order
here, Marks. This is a prison, not a comedy club. Im-
pressions and wisecracks are fine, but they are sec-
ondary to the realities of what we do. Just lose
weight or buy the right size or . . . whatever . . .” His
eyes found hers. “Right?”
“It won’t happen again,” Audra said quickly be-
fore the man could skip down this yellow brick road
any further. She cut another surreptitious glance
Bradshaw-ward, but if the size of Audra’s ass was of
any interest to him at all, she couldn’t read it on his
face.
Woodburn shifted his attention to Bradshaw, too.
“How are you adjusting, Bradshaw? I suspect Man-
hattan Men’s is a walk in the park compared to Up-
state, huh?”
“Yes, sir,” Bradshaw said, filling the room with
his mellow baritone for the first time. Audra turned
toward him, reveling in the sound of his voice, but
again, the man wasn’t looking at her.
He hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t looked at her at
all, not even when she was wiggling her ample hips
Mae West style . . .
Audra frowned, suddenly unsure. Maybe it was
just being in Woodburn’s office. Or maybe he was
concerned about being involved with anyone who
was accused of brutality and now relieved of duty.
Or maybe . . . maybe . . . maybe her mother was
right, and he didn’t like the way she looked—
38
Karyn Langhorne
Audra smoothed a nervous hand over her hair and
then along the crease of her new uniform pants. She
licked her dry lips, wondering if she still had the
nerve to vamp up to him with the lines of a movie on
her lips. Abort, abort, abort, something in her brain
was screaming, and Audra was inclined to obey.
“Anything else?” The deputy warden’s eyes
flicked over them both one last time, dismissing
them. “If not . . . thank you, Officers.”
And before she could even turn to glance at him,
Art Bradshaw had unfolded his big, tall body and
made a quick, silent exit.
“There’s a speed limit in this state, mister—uh—I
mean, ma’am.”
Audra stopped short. There was no doubt who
was speaking—there was no one else in this silent
office corridor far from the day-to-day activities of
prison life.
Relieved of duty, after leaving Woodburn’s office
Audra had changed back into street clothes and was
about to leave the building when the big man’s voice
arrested her, not far from the officers’ break room.
Audra whirled around, staring into the man’s
face in surprise.
He was so handsome, with those liquid amber
eyes and perfect bow-shaped lips . . .
“There’s a speed limit in this state. Forty-five
miles an hour,” he repeated, and then paused,
clearly waiting for her response.
Speed limit? There wasn’t a statewide speed limit,
and in the city the limit was more like thirty or
thirty-five.
DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
39
“Come on, Marks,” he rumbled at her, a glimmer
of playfulness in his eyes. “Double Indemnity, re-
member?”
Audra cleared her throat.
“How fast was I going, Officer?” In her nervous-
ness and surprise, her voice was less Barbara Stan-
wyck and more hoarse whisper, but somehow even
that felt loud in this quiet corridor. Audra could
barely hear herself at all over the knocking of her
heart. Her fingers twitched to reach for her ankle—
checking for that telltale anklet the screen legend
had worn. There couldn’t be an anklet—she didn’t
own one, but if Art Bradshaw had actually tracked
her down to quote Double Indemnity, some kind of
magic was afoot, perhaps the same kind that could
produce an anklet where there had been none.
I told you, Ma! I told you, Audra thought, doing a
happy dance in her head. I knew he liked me! I knew
it—
As if reading her mind, Art Bradshaw’s perfect
lips curved upward into a shy smile. “I’d say about
ninety,” he said softly.
That was the next line. Audra knew the scene by
heart. Almost without realizing it, she took a step up
the corridor toward him. “Suppose you get off your
motorcycle and write me a ticket?”
“Suppose I give you a warning?” he said, tracking
the dialogue from the movie, word for word.
“Suppose it doesn’t take?” Audra shot back, right
on cue.
Bradshaw’s shy smile had widened into a big grin.
He took a long step toward her, narrowing the dis-
tance between them.
40
Karyn Langhorne
“Suppose I’ll have to rap your knuckles then.”
“Suppose I put my head on your shoulder and
cry,” Audra said.
Bradshaw hesitated. “Next line is Stanwyck’s,
‘Suppose you put your head on my husband’s shoul-
der,’ but that doesn’t fit, does it?” He lifted an eye-
brow over those striking light eyes. “For a couple of
reasons.”
Audra stared at him, the spell only partly broken
now that the dialogue was his own words and
