New York's Finest Rebel. Trish Wylie
out of my business. If you don’t, I might start poking my nose into yours.’
‘I have nothing to hide,’ she lied. ‘Do you?’
‘Don’t push me, babe.’
She managed to stop the words or what? leaving her lips, but it wasn’t solely the need to strive for maturity. There was something else going on; she could feel it. It was more than the chill in his gaze, more than the rigid set of his shoulders or the unmistakable edge of warning in his deep voice. What was it?
As if he could read the question in her eyes, Daniel frowned and turned his profile to her. A muscle tensed on his jaw, suggesting he was grinding his teeth together. But even if she had the right to ask what was wrong, before she had the chance, he turned away. When she ended up staring at his door again, she blinked and shook her head.
Well, Day One had been great.
She couldn’t wait for Day Two.
CHAPTER TWO
‘Is it just me or does coffee taste better when they make those little love hearts in the foam? It’s funny the things that can make a difference in how we feel.’
JORJA DAWSON had breasts. Considering he was a man and she was a woman, part of Daniel’s brain had to have always known that. Fortunately, in the past, they had never been pressed against his chest in a way that made them difficult to ignore.
It was the kind of intel he could have done without.
Judging by the way the tips of those breasts were beaded against the material of her tight-fitting top before she hid them beneath folded arms, the spark of sexual awareness had been mutual. She should just be thankful he had an honourable streak. If she ever found out he’d been as aware of her as she was of him, she would have a brand-new weapon at her disposal. One that, were she foolish enough to use it, would leave him no choice but to launch a counterattack with heavy artillery until she offered her unconditional surrender.
In terms of fallout, it would be similar to pulling the pin on a grenade he couldn’t toss to a safe distance.
Number two on his list: sister’s best friend.
Since every guy on the planet who didn’t have long-term plans knew to avoid that minefield, it wouldn’t matter if she wore nothing but lacy underwear to go with the shoes he would have been happy for her to wear to bed. She could have pole-danced for him and he would still resist the urge to kiss her.
‘Whatever you tell yourself to help you sleep at night.’
When the echoed words led directly to the memory of the unspoken questions in her eyes, he pushed his body harder in the last block of a five mile run. She’d hit a nerve but there was no way she could know he wasn’t sleeping. Or that he was sick of waking up bathed in a cold sweat, his throat raw from yelling. It had to stop before he did something stupid in work again or was forced to look for another apartment. He would damn well make it stop.
But distracting himself from the problem with thoughts of Jorja Dawson’s breasts wasn’t the way to go about it.
Slowing his pace to a walk, he shouldered his way into a busy coffee shop and pushed back the hood on his sweatshirt. After placing his order, he looked around while he waited for it to arrive, his gaze discovering a woman sitting alone by the windows. It was exactly what he needed: another woman.
Questioning if he was forming a fetish, he started his assessment with her shoes—a pair of simple black patent heels with open toes—before he moved up the legs crossed elegantly beneath the table to a fitted skirt that hugged her like a second skin. Nice. Continuing upwards, he was rewarded with a glimpse of curved breast between the lapels of a crisp white blouse as she turned in her seat. Then his gaze took in the smooth twist of dark hair at the nape of her neck in the kind of up-do that begged to be unpinned so she could shake her hair loose. She was even wearing a pair of small, rectangular-framed reading glasses to complete the fantasy.
But when she turned again, he shook his head. Used to be a time he was better at sensing the presence of the enemy.
She looked up at him when he stopped for a paper napkin at the condiment station beside her. ‘Are you kidding me?’
‘I can’t buy a cup of coffee now?’
‘You can buy it somewhere else.’
‘This is the closest coffee shop.’
‘You can have the one two blocks down. This one is mine.’ She returned her attention to her computer screen. ‘It’s my work space every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning.’
‘I must have missed the notice on the door,’ Daniel said as he pulled out the chair facing her and sat down. He smirked when she scowled at him. ‘Good morning.’
After an attempt to continue what she was doing while he looked through the window at the steady build of people headed to their offices, she sighed. ‘You’re going to be here every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, aren’t you?’
‘Not a morning person, I take it.’
‘This is your plan?’ She arched a brow when he looked at her. ‘You’re going to be there every time I turn around until you wear me down and I move? Wow … that’s …’
‘Effective?’
‘I was going to say adolescent. I can’t tell you how reassuring it is to know the city is in the hands of such a mature example of the New York Police Department.’
When her fingers began to move across the keyboard again, Daniel realized he didn’t have the faintest idea what she did for a living. He wondered why. Hadn’t needed to know was the simple answer. Though it did kind of beg the question of why it was he needed to know now.
Know your enemy and know yourself and you could fight a hundred battles, as the saying went. With that in mind he took a short breath. ‘So what is it you do anyway?’
She didn’t look up from the screen. ‘It’s the first time you’ve been tempted to ask that question?’
‘I don’t have a newspaper to pass the time.’
‘They’re on a stand by the door.’
‘It’s an internet thing, isn’t it?’
Long lashes lifted behind her glasses. ‘Meaning?’
‘You’re one of those people who reports their every move every five minutes so the universe can know how much time they spend doing laundry.’
‘Yes, that’s the only thing people use the internet for these days.’ She reached for her coffee. ‘It’s because working online isn’t a physical job, right? Anyone who isn’t lifting heavy objects or doing something with their hands instantly earns a low ranking on your Neanderthal scale of the survival of the fittest.’
‘You might want to slow down on the caffeine intake. I think you’re close to the legal limit already.’
Setting the cup down, she breathed deep and went back to work. ‘I write a blog.’
‘You can earn a living doing that?’
‘Among other things,’ she replied.
‘What’s it about?’
‘Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?’
‘Nope.’
‘Fine, then. I can play the “get to know me better” game until you get bored and leave. It shouldn’t take long with your attention span.’ Lifting her coffee again, she leaned back in her chair and looked him straight in the eye. ‘I work for a fashion magazine and as part of my job I write a daily blog on the latest trends and the kind of things twenty-something women might find interesting.’
‘You’re