
An Ellora's Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Purrfect Justice
ISBN # 1-4199-0309-8
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Purrfect Justice Copyright© 2005 Ashley Ladd
Edited by: Linda Carroll-Bradd
Cover art by: Syneca
Electronic book Publication: September 2005
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors' imagination and used fictitiously.
Warning:
The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Purrfect Justice has been rated Sensuous by a minimum of three independent reviewers.
Ellora's Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (Sensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).
S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.
E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as "fucking", "cock", "pussy", and such within their work of literature.
X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.
Purrfect Justice
Ashley Ladd
Trademarks Acknowledgment
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Batman: National Periodical Publications, Inc.
Catwoman: National Periodical Publications, Inc.
Riddler: National Periodical Publications, Inc.
Jason: Paramount Pictures Corporation
Cheshire Cat: Macmillan Limited
Lurch: Paramount Pictures Corporation
Addams Family: Paramount Pictures Corporation
Tootsie Roll Pops: Tootsie Roll Industries, Inc.
The Bachelor: Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.
Sailor Moon: Toei Animation Co., Ltd.
Dragon Ball Z: Kabushiki Kaisha Shueisha
Kojak: Universal City Studios, Inc.
Honda: HONDA GIKEN KOGYO KABUSHIKI KAISHA TA HONDA MOTOR CO., LTD. CORPORATION JAPAN
Frisbee: Wham-O, Inc.
"Meow! Here kitty, kitty, kitty."
Oy! Another creep fancies himself a stand-up comic.
Haley Yates rolled her eyes and suppressed a sigh. Taking a long swig of the soda in her hands, she was about ready to spike it. Why did every cop with at least one drink in him think he was a comedian? The morons had been meowing since she'd first crossed the threshold to the Ft. Lauderdale--Miami Police Officer's Halloween party.
Haley's tail knocked a sandwich onto the floor, making a gooey mess of lunchmeat, mustard, and cheese. The silly back limb kept bumping things over and then splashed a drink onto her boss. Needless to say, Captain Crowe had not been crowing in a good way afterward. Maybe Catwoman hadn't been the best costume choice despite its ultra-sexiness. With grim determination, she tried to wrap the tail around her waist, but the dang thing had a mind of its own, creating havoc at every turn. Now she knew why humans didn't have tails. They'd end up killing themselves with the treacherous appendages.
"Meow! I knew I should've worn my Batman costume tonight," a husky baritone drawled in Haley's ear, his breath warming her neck.
Haley's heart leapt into her throat. Shudders chased down her spine. She didn't have to turn around to know Lieutenant Cole Fischer was the shameless flirt. Her body was one giant Cole barometer. Wouldn't Mr. Lothario be surprised if he knew her true identity? Or would he? She was merely the invisible admin assistant that he never gave a second thought.
She'd been in love with Cole ever since he'd first swaggered into the main downtown Ft. Lauderdale police station that fateful day, three summers earlier. Her treacherous heart had gone pit-a-pat, her toes had curled, and butterflies loop-de-looped in her stomach. She quivered whenever her glance roamed his way, which was frequently. Fireworks exploded in her every time he so much as smiled in her general direction. She'd almost swallowed her lollipop whole the last time he'd graced her with a grin. The way she mooned over the man, the way she trembled whenever he came near was absolutely pathetic.
Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic!
But as much as she counseled herself that no man was worth such utter adoration, the moment he came into view, her traitorous body spasmed out of control. It was a wonder the whole precinct didn't see her wet panties.
When he tapped her shoulder, fire blazed through her veins. She jumped, causing the ice to clink so violently against her glass the dark liquid sloshed dangerously near the rim. As if she hadn't made enough of a mess tonight, that's all she needed was to spill her drink all over her Romeo.
"Or maybe only Batman could handle Catwoman's blatant charms." Charm oozed from the man's voice, from his every pore. Casanova here was the ultimate seducer.
Down, girlfriend!
Swallowing her fear, she refused to let rampant emotions ruin her big night. She finally had a chance to win the man of her dreams and she'd be a fool if she didn't grab it. Fortifying her courage, she counseled herself to stay calm and collected as she immersed herself in her role. The real Catwomen---Julie Newmar, Michelle Pfeiffer, and Halle Berry---were sexy teases, so to pull off the part, she'd have to be outrageously erotic like them. If she could ride a motorcycle, shoot a shotgun, and create a mean spreadsheet, she could surely do sexy. Inside her, a sultry siren clawed to get out. He might never come on to her again, so she couldn't afford to screw up her chance. Bewitching time was upon her.
She purred, her lips vibrating. She turned to her Romeo, trailing a long fingernail down his arm as seductively as she could while disguising her voice in the sultriest, huskiest voice she could muster. Uhm...not Romeo or Batman...Zorro, bandit of hearts. How apropos. "Bruce or Batman---or Zorro---it's all the same to me, sugar."
Dressed as the hottest Zorro she'd ever seen, complete with mask and his captivating big sword, Cole stole her breath. The costume delineated the well-developed muscles in his arms, as well as several other more fascinating parts of his anatomy, most especially his erotically twitching cock locked inside sexy skintight pants. How she yearned to rescue that cock from its prison. Wasn't it her turn to rescue the handsome hero?
He twirled his fake mustache around his finger and his intensely smoldering gaze followed hers with a knowing twinkle. "What do you have that I can give to the poor, señorita?"
She cursed the gauche lump in her throat and tried to swallow it. Pointedly, she slid her hands down her clingy leotard, emphasizing her breasts which she knew to be her finest asset, and drawled in velvety seductive tones, "Nothing but myself, Señor Bandit." She'd left her purse in the coat checkroom, not that she'd ever offer mere money or jewels to this thief of hearts. If he had to steal something of worth, she had far more valuable assets to offer. As wet as he was making her, he should easily be able to catch her scent.
"Then I'll steal a dance." Without warning, he twirled her onto the dance floor and tap danced around her tail as he clapped a Castilian rhythm. He hovered no more than an inch from her lips. Less than a centimeter closer and he'd graze her tightening nipples. The hilt of his sword pressing into her ribs, he added huskily, "And maybe a kiss."
Mesmerized by his intense eyes the shade of dark chocolate, Haley tilted her face to his, inviting him to maraud her lips. Didn't he know she longed for him to plunder far more than her kisses? "And what if I turn you in for armed robbery?"
Cole threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Ah, but Señorita, you too are a bandida, thus I deem it unlikely you will turn me in to the authorities." He nibbled her lower lip and then guided her expertly around the dance floor amongst vampires, witches, and a legion of infamous villains. "I'll take my chances."
His deep, rich tones melted her bones and turned her knees to jelly. Determined to return the favor, she rubbed against him with all the raw sensuality she could summon from the depths of her soul.
Sweet.
Cops liked to dress up like their nemeses, if their choice of costume was anything to judge by. She spied Al Capone, the Riddler, and two Jasons in hockey masks. "Umm," she murmured against his lips, her breasts tingling against his chest. "Brave men spark my engines." She ran her fake long nails like claws across his back. God, they felt so sexy, and she purred aloud. "You're far more thrilling than that dreary Batman."
"Ooh, baby. That really turns me on. I'm not wimpy like that upstart Batman. I don't need high-tech gizmos to thwart bad guys." He sliced the air with his sword, and then tapped his heels together with a Latin flair before returning the deadly blade to its sheath. Curving his arm around her waist, he asked in a contrived Castilian accent, "Tell me, beautiful señorita, have we met before?"
Panic assaulted her, so she pretended coyness. She wished she wore a mantilla to hide the embarrassing stain creeping up her cheeks. At least her mask veiled her eyes. She cursed her shyness and vowed to overcome it right here and now. She was finally exactly where she wanted to be and she'd be damned if she blew it.
"Naughty boy. Don't you know that I don't reveal my identity even to Batman?" She dragged her hand over her eyes, her fingers parted in a V. Enthusiastically getting into her part, she wound her tail around him so they were dirty dancing, her pussy rubbing against his groin. It amazed her how much easier flirting was while in costume. Perhaps she should wear her costume more often. A lot more often.
"Am I your prisoner?" Captivating mischief danced in his darkened gaze.
"Hmm. I'm catnapping you," she said in a deep sultry, very un-Haley-like voice. Tonight, he was exactly that, her prisoner of love. She squirmed deliciously, her panties so wet he surely had to notice.
"What happens when I pull your tail?" He tugged her fabric limb, drawing her even more tightly against him.
"Hiss." She raised her claws menacingly and pulled him into a dark corner behind a potted palm tree that hid them from prying gazes.
"What happens if I pull yours?" Brazenly, she ran the tip of her fingernail down the hard ridge of his cock. Quivering with wanton lust, longing to unleash his hot cock, she rubbed against him. Scintillating images of entwined arms and legs scorched her. "How about we have our own private wrestling match?"
"Yowsers! Here?" His scandalized glance darted around the room but he rubbed his groin against her mons and swept his tongue down her throat to the opening of the low-cut V of her bodice.
"Umm-hmm." When he dipped his hot tongue down the V of her costume, licking the slope of her breast, she closed her eyes in ecstasy and arched closer against him. Wonderful!
"So, why are you Catwoman?" He trailed burning kisses to her other breast and pushed away the leathery fabric for better access.
Her feline instincts overwhelming her, she rubbed noses with him when he lifted his head. Enflamed, desperate to lick him all over, she swept her tongue down the strong column of his throat. "Because the tail is so incredibly erotic. Why are you Zorro?"
"Because I always wanted to rob from the rich and give to the poor---like Robin Hood---but Zorro's wardrobe is much more dashing than Robin's sissy green tights." His grin turned lopsided and he patted his sword. "Plus, I have a thing for swords." He drew it again and lunged for an imaginary foe. "En garde!"
Giggling, she clapped and swished her tail. "Bravo, Señor Zorro!" She wished he had a red rose to toss her so she could snatch it in her teeth.
His gaze smoldering, he danced around her seductively, clicking his fingers high in the air. "Impressed yet?" His sombrero slipped off his head, revealing his shorn dark hair, almost as severe as a Marine Corps special. Grimacing, he caught the escapee just before it hit the floor.
She covered her mouth to prevent laughter from escaping, but she couldn't hide her quivering body in this revealing outfit. Just as he couldn't hide his endowments in his skintight breeches. Trying not to let on she was ogling him, her mouth went bone-dry and she slowly and deliberately licked her lips.
Wantonly, she covered his cock with her hand and caressed it. "I'm very impressed...with your big sword."
Again, Cole glanced apprehensively around the room. Then he linked his fingers through hers and dragged her to a private room, locked the door, and pulled her into his arms. His lips roamed over hers and he unzipped her top and pushed it off her shoulders. "You're too hot to share, babe."
"Ditto." Sizzling, about to burst into flame, cursing their restrictive costumes, she languorously rubbed against him. Not about to have any regrets about lost opportunities, she unsnapped his slacks and delved inside. "Is Zorro ready for some sword play?"
"En garde! Zorro never disappoints his lady." Cole whipped down his slacks, revealing a velvety, red, pulsing cock.
Quaking with desperate desire, she reverently stroked his hardened length. It had to be the longest, thickest, most mouthwatering cock she'd ever seen. She'd been waiting an eternity to touch it, to taste it. "You're beautiful."
Unable to stop herself, she unbuttoned his shirt and licked and nibbled her way down his chest. She rubbed her naked breasts against his cock, squeezing the wet tip between her breasts, and reveled in his shudders.
"Where've you been hiding all my life?" He rolled her nipples between his fingers as he thrust his hips toward her face.
Right under your nose. He was blinder than her, despite her thick bifocals, but she'd forgive him anything at this moment. "I've been around."
"How'd I miss your sexy scent? What's your name?"
Yikes? Her name? That would throw freezing water on this slice of Heaven.
No way!
Not yet anyway.
"Catwoman," she drawled with as much moxie as she could.
"Your real name, sweetheart?" He slid a finger under her chin and lifted her face so she was forced to gaze up into his curious gaze.
Panicked, desperate to distract him, she played coy and batted her false long lashes. "Tsk, tsk. Catwoman never reveals her identity, even to the caped crusader."
"I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours."
No dice. She could tell him his full name, his address, and his batting average. She needed a bargaining chip if she ever wanted an encore to tonight's performance.
She took his luscious shaft into her mouth as deeply as she could to the chorus of his lusty moans. "Hmm, you're so incredibly tasty!"
Cole shoveled his fingers through her hair, almost pushing off her costume ears. He held her head close against him as he powerfully fucked her mouth. "Ooh, baby. Tell me this isn't a dream."
Unfortunately, she couldn't promise, for she was probably dreaming, too. Nightly for the past three years she'd dreamed of being held in his arms. By now, she must be delusional. Definitely ravenous, she greedily sucked his cock, eager to taste his succulent seed.
God, but he moved her soul! Wrapping her fingers around the base of his thick shaft, she gently played with his velvety softness. Her tongue parted the slit in the tip of his penis, coaxing him to release his seed.
Finally, he thrust into her and his floodgates broke open. He held her head tightly against him as he moaned loudly. His seed poured into her mouth, filling it, sliding down her throat.
She drank, greedily trying to capture every last drop in case they were never intimate again. She didn't dare waste a minute of this precious time.
Finally, his orgasm subsided and he drew her up tenderly and cradled her in his arms. He stroked her hair and kissed his seed from her lips. "Thank you. That was awesome."
Speechless with wonder, she nodded and snuggled deeper against him, never wanting to part from his warmth.
But the harsh PA system erupted overhead, breaking the magic spell. "Last call for the costume contest! Grand prize is an all-expenses paid weekend for two in the sunny Bahamas," Captain Crowe announced to the audience.
"Count me in if we get away from the captain for two days!" Brad Mueller yelled so loudly his voice rose above the cheering crowd, infiltrating their private domain.
Cole cupped her cheeks in his palms and gazed deeply into her eyes. "Let's forget about them. This is so much better."
Unable to agree more, trembling against him, she nodded. Molding herself to him, she felt so complete, so right, or so precious. She'd never felt more alive, more high on life.
"I'm personally awarding you the prize for sexiest costume." Cole flexed his arms and winked broadly.
Feeling saucy, she shook her head. Not that she was wearing much of her costume at the moment... "No, Señor. Zorro has stolen the prize." Just like he'd stolen her heart, body, and soul.
He theatrically dipped her in his arms and teased her lips with scorching kisses. Mercilessly, he grazed his chest against her naked breasts. "Zorro intends to steal much more tonight."
Thrilled at his powerful mastery, at the wicked gleam dancing in his gaze, she quivered intensely. "What does Señor Zorro intend to steal?"
"Tons of sizzling kisses." He plundered her lips and drank deeply as he lowered her gently to the floor and lay on top of her.
When he released her swollen lips, she asked impishly, "Only kisses?"
His cock buried itself against her pussy and flexed deliciously. "Oh, I want to steal much more from you, mi amor."
Mi amor? My love?
How she wished! But she didn't delude herself, as heavenly as this night was.
Bewitched, she opened herself body and soul. "As do I, Señor. Much more."
His pager trilled, and he froze. Moaning, he rolled off her with an apologetic wink. "Sorry, I'm on call so I have to take this."
Bereft of his warmth and disappointed, she nodded. Coming from a long line of policemen, she understood, even if she didn't appreciate the untimely interruption.
He stood and ambled to the far side of the room, blending with the long shadows. Then he returned the call and spoke in hushed tones, occasionally glancing over his shoulder.
Cold and with the spell broken, she redressed and tugged up her zipper with a whoosh. From the sound of his conversation, he wouldn't be returning to her tonight.
Tonight?
Tonight was all they'd ever had, probably all they would ever have. Cursing the fairy tales that made her dream of unlikely, impossible happily-ever-afters, she swallowed her intense disappointment. She didn't have a glass slipper to leave behind like Cinderella. If she were to leave her tail, he couldn't very well go damsel to damsel to try it on for a perfect fit. Not that he'd care to anyway...
Desperate to escape a prolonged, awkward goodbye, she waved and slipped out of the room. Lowering her head, she aimed for the ladies' room to wash off all evidence of her secret rendezvous. All she needed was for Brad or Cindy to recognize her after this.
"Poached eyeballs, Madame?" A Lurch look-alike blocked her way. The giant bowed, serving gooey eyeball appetizers from a shiny silver tray. She recognized the Addams Family manservant as Mike Matthias from her class at the Police Academy who had taken a post with the neighboring town of Margate.
Strains of spooky music accentuated her need to leave immediately. The last thing she wanted was food or idle chitchat, even with an old friend. "No thanks."
She spied Cindy swaying in Brad's arms across the room, gazing up at him as if he were Prince Charming. Cindy herself had come as Cinderella, and she was trying to get Brad to accept her glass slipper.
Cindy needed to wake up and smell the poached eyeballs. Cinderella fantasies only came true in fairy tales. This was real life.
\*
Only minutes later, Haley drove home in a fog, barely listening to her car's police scanner turned on low. Awash with the scintillating memories, she alternately tingled all over and cringed. She could still smell Cole's lingering spicy scent, could still feel his hard body pressed against her, could still taste his essence...
"Officer down at Broward and 31st. Another officer in extreme jeopardy. Backup needed. Suspect is armed and dangerous." Sheila's voice didn't flicker one iota even as it javelined fear into Haley's heart. The older woman had been a dispatcher for twenty-odd years, and this was just another day on the job to her.
"Oh, no! Cole!" Gasping, Haley's heart trip-hammered as she cranked up the volume. Broward Boulevard lay north a scant half mile from her current position on Powerline. Few officers checked in, as most were still probably partying down at the masquerade. No one was half as close to the officers in need of assistance as she was.
"Unit niner under fire. Approach with extreme caution." Cole's voice echoed eerily with the haunting, frightening words.
The sounds of gunfire ricocheted over the scanner, and she swerved, her bumper almost kissing a palm tree. Getting a grip, she gunned her Honda toward the crime scene, one thought in her mind---maybe I can help.
A police academy washout due to an injury during her final week of instruction, she'd been through enough training to take on a man Mike's size when they'd partnered up in class. Thwarted from her dreams of being a police officer, she'd applied and been accepted as a secretary at police headquarters. Her knowledge of police procedure had given her an edge over the competition.
The crime-fighting desire still burned in her veins, however, and she cursed her lousy eyesight. She pushed away the thought of not having a badge, that she had absolutely no authority to infiltrate a crime scene. The officer in jeopardy could be Cole.
A chance existed she could help, and that's what she intended to do. No one had recognized her at the party, and she could sneak up on the shooter before he knew she was there. Dark clouds misted over the moon and also hid most of the stars. In her completely black costume, she could blend in with the shadows.
In less than three minutes, she approached the scene. Not wanting to be seen, she parked her car and slunk through parking lots, sticking to the shadows of empty buildings, 'til she crept up on the gunman.
When she spied Cole once again clad in his police uniform, standing in the gunman's sights, her blood froze. She'd never seen him so pale, or his eyes so dark. She'd never been so very frightened.
"Say your last prayers, pig. You shot my little brother, now I'm pluggin' you." The streetlamp glistened ominously on a Saturday night special.
What blood hadn't already iced over in her veins did now. She did her best to quell the chills coursing through her so she could perform the task she'd assigned herself.
"You kill me in cold blood, you'll be up on first-degree murder." Cole's voice remained remarkably steady, his features impassive. "You'll get life or the chair."
Haley had never admired Cole more than in that instant. All the love she had welled in her heart, even as every nerve in her body cried out in anguish.
"My mama's all set to give me an alibi and there's no witnesses."
The smug satisfaction and overconfidence in the slime's voice sickened Haley. "Wrong!" she yelled as she ran at him and kicked at the gun in his hand.
The gunman whirled and shot at her. The bullet went wild as the gun flipped end over end in the air.
Terror engulfing her, and her pulse catapulted into overdrive.
Everything happened so fast the actions blurred. Cole dove for the man, grabbing his waist, and hurled them to the pavement. The gun landed with a loud clank less than two feet away from the writhing figures on the ground, and they struggled to reach it.
Haley sprinted for it and snatched it out of the criminal's clutches just as his fingers grazed it. Backing up a good three feet, she stood with feet braced apart, the gun pointed squarely at his barrel-like chest. She disguised her voice as best as she could, demanding, "Face down and spread 'em!" She waved the revolver at Cole. "You---handcuff him."
The man sprawled on the ground growled, spit, and cursed.
She grinned. Oh, the joys of law enforcement life. Adrenaline rushed through her. She'd never been so invigorated, so alive. She'd always known she was made for this life. She and Cole would have made perfect partners. Whether he knew it or not, she'd worked a case with him at least this once. Another memory she'd forever cherish.
When Cole snapped the handcuffs in place, she sighed in relief. That was her cue to vamoose before she wound up cuffed in its twin. Mission accomplished. He was safe. The injured officer, Archie Calloway, moaned and moved, so he was alive.
Life was good.
"It's you." Awe laced Cole's voice as he stretched to his full height, an admirable six feet, two inches of pure solid muscle that towered over her average height of five feet, four inches. "Thank you. Who are you?"
Fear constricted her throat. He couldn't find out who she was, so she backed away, not uttering another syllable. In the throes of passion, she'd already spoken way too much. Cole was no dummy. He'd recognize her voice if she kept talking. He might laugh at her were he to know her true identity, or worse, he might turn her in for interfering in official police business. Either way, she couldn't chance revealing herself. From this point on, she vowed not to utter another word while wearing this costume.
Shaking her head and her finger at him, her eyes wide behind her mask with the cool night breeze grazing them, she handed him the gun, pivoted on her high-heeled boot, and ran, her tail literally tucked between her legs.
\*
Holy Batman and Robin!
In shock, Cole stared openmouthed at his dream lover dashing away. Mesmerized by her leonine grace, lush curves and mysterious air, he couldn't believe he'd been rescued by Catwoman.
Like he could believe the sexy siren had given him a blowjob on such short acquaintance, so close to his friends and coworkers in the next room?
Sure he was dreaming, a very sensual, pungent dream, he rubbed his eyes. Never before had he dreamed a woman would rescue him, much less a masked, unknown crusader. The guys back at the precinct would never let him live this one down. They'd tease him 'til the day he died. Then they'd engrave his humiliation on his headstone.
Sirens screamed, and Archie moaned, snapping Cole out of his reverie. Concern flooded him and he knelt at Archie's side. "Where'd he get you? You hurting bad, buddy?" Cole knew better than to move an injured man, that he could make the injuries worse. Silently, he cursed the acrid stench of blood and gunpowder that almost gagged him.
Archie wheezed and winced when he tried to crack a smile. "Am I delusional, or did Catwoman just save your sorry ass?"
Dang! Cole had hoped his pal hadn't seen their savior so he wouldn't have to admit to anyone else he'd been rescued by a comic-strip temptress come to life. "You're seeing things. All the blood's drained out of that pea brain of yours."
"Hey, pig! I demand my rights. You can't leave me here like this."
Cole glanced dispassionately at his prisoner squirming like a worm on the black, broken asphalt. Creeps who shot policemen didn't deserve cushy treatment. "You'll get your rights." He ground his teeth, squeezing Archie's hand. "We'll fix you up good as new. Don't worry." The blood pooling around the older, gray-haired cop's torso alarmed him, but he wouldn't worry the downed man. "Help's almost here." He swallowed hard. "You won't mention Catwoman saved us, will ya?" He sweetened the pot. "I'll give you half my trust fund if you swear."
Archie cracked a smile and then grimaced again. "Half of nothin' still ain't nothin'. I gotta have somethin' to live for, don't I?"
Cole groaned and stood, towering over his friend. Hands on his hips, he spread his feet wide. "Traitor."
Archie chuckled. "You get a load of that bodacious set of ta-tas? That's one sexy mama."
A relieved smile tugged at Cole's lips. The guy couldn't be dying if he was so interested in Catwoman's ta-tas.
"I hadn't noticed," Cole lied, remembering too well their breathtaking lovemaking only an hour before. An image of her kicking the gun out of his assailant's hands flashed through his mind. Magnificent! He'd never met such an exciting, gorgeous woman before. He had to find her and learn who she was. With those moves, no doubt she was a policewoman. An ordinary civilian wouldn't know how to sneak up on a perpetrator that way, nor would Miss Average Citizen know the karate moves she had used. But which policewoman?
He had to do his investigating on the sly, though, or he'd be the joke of the force.
Catwoman. A man's fantasy come to life. A nightmare in cold reality?
A police cruiser and ambulance pulled up, and he directed them to the downed officer. Then he hauled up the gunman, read him his rights, and locked him in the rear of his cruiser. Still, he was unable to banish thoughts of the femme fatale and knew he couldn't rest 'til he unmasked her.
Haley took a deep breath, sucked in her abdomen, and settled her glasses firmly on her face. Her new contacts lay tucked away in her nightstand at home. After the masquerade, she didn't dare wear them. As much as she hated her glasses, the tinted contacts provided perfect cover. She didn't want Cole to recognize her as his costumed crusader, not that it was likely he would anyway. He never gave her a second glance. He only had eyes for the glamorous women in the office, the ones that wore slinky, tight-fitting short dresses. As she wanted to be promoted to office manager, she always wore tailored, three-piece suits to work.
Holding her chin high, she walked regally to her desk piled high with reports and letters to type and file. One thing about working at police headquarters---her day was never boring, even working as a secretary. The joint always bustled. Work never slacked.
"You promised you'd come to the masquerade. It was loads of fun." Pouting, Cindy followed Haley to her workstation. She perched on the edge of Haley's desk next to a plate of home-baked cookies, picked up one and daintily nibbled on it. Another secretary at police headquarters, she was Haley's best pal at work. Her short skirt hiked up her thigh as she dangled her leg over the side, her bare, pink pearl toenails pointing at the floor. Her dark hair flowed, curly and bouncy, halfway down her back.
Haley opened her mouth to admit she'd been there when she spied Cole entering the room across the way and flirting with Robyn, who stood by the water fountain. Her mouth went dry when he winked at the sexy woman, and she decided she'd do best not to tell anyone connected to the station about the masquerade, especially not to Cindy who couldn't be trusted not to blab everything. An ache throbbed behind her eyes and she massaged her forehead. "I-I meant to come, but I got detained."
"It was the party of the year." Cindy's glance slid to Cole, and she stared openly and admiringly. "Cole was to die for. He dressed up as Zorro and his pants were so skintight, we were taking bets when they would rip."
A thrill of excitement shot through Haley as she remembered how well the pants had outlined the policeman's powerful thighs and, in particular, his big sword. Whew! She needed an ice-cold shower just thinking about it.
"Did you dance with him?" She knew Cindy had not, that she had disappeared into a back room with Cole a good portion of the night, but she wanted to throw suspicion off herself. She bit back a wry grimace when she realized that probably no one would suspect her, since they thought her shy, quiet, and dowdy. Better to be safe than sorry. She'd be mortified if everyone knew. They'd tease her mercilessly.
Would they tease Cindy if she'd worn the sexy Catwoman costume? Or Robyn? Or any of the other females who worked at police headquarters? No, they wouldn't, she realized with a pang. They treated her as if she were a different species or as if she were sexless. She'd enjoyed the male drooling at the party---the stares, the compliments, and the attention. She'd even secretly enjoyed the catty comments she'd overheard whispered by female coworkers.
"No. He danced with some slut and then they disappeared for the rest of the night." Cindy moved closer and her voice became a stage whisper. "You should've seen her. She dressed up as Catwoman and her costume didn't hide a thing. You could see every ounce of flesh. I'd never dream of wearing anything so scandalous." She flexed her toes, showing off her perfect legs.
Oh, oh. Haley fought the urge to pinch her stomach for imaginary tummy rolls. "Was she fat?"
Cindy pouted. "No. She was perfect. You and I would kill to have her figure. I bet she's a real dog under that mask, though."
Meow. Haley's fingers stretched like a cat clawing, under her desk where her friend couldn't see them.
Cindy batted her lashes at Brad. She wouldn't lower her leg for him to pass the desk. "We still on for tonight, stud?"
Haley's ears perked up although she pretended to study a report. She watched Cole surreptitiously from under her veiled lashes.
Cole sipped steaming coffee and then bit into a Danish.
When he licked the icing off his lips, she longed to do it for him.
"Don't know if I can." Brad possessed a boyish grin and sandy, sun-bleached hair that invariably fell across his eyes. He was cute in a boy-next-door way. Muscles rippled across his shoulders and down his arms. He was buff and tan from playing softball every night and every weekend he wasn't on duty.
Cindy pouted prettily and jumped to her feet, blocking his way. She shook her long hair and traced his badge with her finger. "You're standing me up?"
Brad closed the gap between them and gazed deeply into her eyes. "I don't want to, sugar, but something big's goin' down." He lowered his voice another notch so that Haley had to strain to hear him. "Cole and I are investigating some suspects. If our source tells us it's going down tonight, we'll have to stake it out."
"Who are they? What'd they do?" Cindy's eyes widened in alarm. "Will you be in danger?"
Brad puffed out his chest and squared his magnificent shoulders. "I can't tell you specifics---but we'll be in grave danger. It's a top-secret mission, so don't tell a soul."
Her throat constricting in fear, Haley dropped her papers and then sucked in her breath. Either Cole was in grave danger or Brad was pulling out all the stops trying to get Cindy's empathy. If it were the second, she'd thump Brad for scaring her half to death for nothing.
"Can you type this for me ASAP? I need it yesterday."
Cole's voice startled her, making her yelp and jump, so that her chair slid out from under her and she landed on the floor in an unflattering heap. Her glasses fell off and everything blurred. Mortified, she scrambled to her knees, feeling around for her glasses, patting the floor gingerly. She was blind without them and Cole was seeing her at her absolute worst. Could she get more pathetic? "Oh, no!"
"You okay?"
Cole crouched beside her, although for all she could see, it could be anything of equal mass, like a werewolf. He was so close she could smell his spearmint gum. His fingers curled around her upper arms, and he tried to lift her.
"No!" His touch sparked such electricity she should be electrocuted, but she had to find her glasses before someone stepped on them. She couldn't drive home without the fool things.
Rotten accident! She clamped down on her errant daydreams. Oops! He really might think she was injured, so she backtracked. "I mean, I'm not hurt, but I have to find my glasses. I'm blind without them." Fighting down panic and losing, she patted the floor.
"Here they are." Cole's voice oozed over her, warm and reassuring, but nowhere near as warm as his callused fingertips grazing her cheeks as he put her glasses back on her face. His lips hovered a mere two inches from hers, firm and chiseled, yet soft and tempting. His dark eyes twinkled with devilish glee.
Shivers radiated down her spine. Electricity arced from him to her, stealing her breath.
That damned Zorro wouldn't stop stealing things from her...
No, no, no, no! She had to forget about Zorro or she'd go crazy.
"I didn't mean to scare you." Cole rose to his feet and offered her a hand up, which she accepted gratefully as gracefully as she could.
Scare her? He downright terrified her!
Her hand fit perfectly in his as it had the previous night, sending tingles up her arm. Holding her breath, she waited for him to recognize her---either by her touch, her voice, or maybe even her scent. Surely, he must feel the sizzling sparks. Something so volatile couldn't be all one-sided, could it? Their emotions at the masquerade had certainly seemed very two-sided.
"I was so engrossed in my work, I didn't know you were there. Guess it's a good thing I'm not a cop like you." Smiling shyly, she bit her lower lip to stop the quivering that sometimes beset her when she dwelt on what could have been.
Erika Stewart, the newest transfer, sashayed by Haley's desk, giving Cole the once-over. All the men had been drooling over her since she'd set foot in the station that morning. About Haley's height, she was five feet, five inches of luscious curves even her uniform couldn't hide.
Cole snapped to attention and stared at the dark-haired beauty as if he'd spied his favorite candy. His hungry gaze followed the woman. He gulped when she winked at him. "Who is she? I've never see her here before, and I'd remember someone who looks like her."
Bile rushed into Haley's throat. She swallowed bitter disappointment and crashed back to reality without a parachute. "Lieutenant Erika Stewart. She just transferred down from West Palm." All trace of emotion had been stripped from her voice.
"I wonder if she was at the masquerade?" Cole rubbed his chin, still staring at the woman.
Haley could practically see the cogs spinning in his brain and knew without aid of Tarot cards, a crystal ball, or ESP what he must be thinking. He suspected the curvaceous beauty was Catwoman!
Oy! As if anyone else could be a better Catwoman for Cole.
She should set him straight here and now, come clean and take a chance he could be interested in her, with or without the femme fatale costume. After all, she was the same person inside, his temptress and savior. The packaging was merely a little different today. She looked down at her stiffly tailored, sexless suit and grimaced. Well, the wrapping was a whole lot different. A necessary evil if she wanted a shot at the office manager job, however. Slinky sex kittens usually didn't garner high responsibility, high-stress management jobs.
Cole hugged her and swung her around. "You're a doll, Holly. I owe you one." He sprinted off after the other woman, his step jaunty, excitement rippling in every muscle.
"Haley," she muttered under her breath, her eyes sore from the strain of watching him make a fool of himself over the wrong woman. She turned her back, removed her glasses, and rubbed the bridge of her nose, willing the pain to vanish.
Furious with herself more than with him, she threw the file in her hand on top of her desk. Why couldn't she have opened her mouth and spit out the truth? Why did revealing herself terrify her a hundred times more than the slimeball with the gun?
"Something wrong, Bailey?" Brad asked as he sauntered by, a sexy grin curving his lips and his gaze also riveted to their newest officer.
Cindy wouldn't be any more pleased than Haley had been if she caught her boyfriend checking out the new woman. Quickly, she pushed the glasses back onto her nose, scared the detective might recognize her. "It's Holly!" Irritated, she tripped over her own tongue. "I mean Haley!"
Sheesh! Now she couldn't keep her own name straight. Thank God it was five, so she could split. Usually she stayed until five-thirty or even six to avoid downtown traffic, which aided her in being seen as diligent and dedicated, all part of her plan to get old Hazelrod's job when the current office manager retired next year. Tonight, however, she couldn't wait to leave. If one more person got her name wrong, she'd lose it. She'd only worked here three years. They should know her name by now. How hard was Haley to remember? They were cops, after all! Cops were supposed to remember details.
An hour later, she paced her neighbor's living room, her hands behind her back, her temper boiling. "I'm such an idiot! How could I have been so meek?" She unpinned her hair from its topknot and shook it out. "I was going to tell him I was the woman at the party, and I lost my nerve. The next thing I knew, he was on the other side of the room hanging all over Erika Stewart because he thinks she's me."
Her friend and neighbor, Sher, looked at her cross-eyed. Although Sher was only five-feet tall at most, she made up for it with spunk. She wore her red curls short but liked to daily change her look with a different wig. Today, she wore a sandy-colored pageboy. "Well, if you'd lose the nerdy wardrobe, those horrible glasses, and let down your hair, the men would ogle you, too."
Sher snatched away her glasses and peered at her. "You'd be a gorgeous chick if you loosened up. Us mere mortals would kill for your figure, so I don't know why you always hide it."
Haley sighed, squinting. Everything was a blur. "I told you why. I'm dressing for success. I can't be a cop, so I'm going to be a manager. Managers wear suits, not slinky dresses. They wear high heels, not open-toed and beaded sandals. And they wear their hair professionally styled, not long and loose." No, she couldn't break through the glass ceiling acting---or dressing---pink.
Sher pretended to yawn and patted her mouth. "Boring! You need a new image if you want to wow that man. Maybe you should wear your Catwoman costume to work."
"Get real." Haley snorted, wondering how many coronaries she'd cause if she wore her Halloween costume in the station. "I barely got up the nerve to wear it the first time for the Halloween ball. I can't wear that out in public on a normal day."
"Sure you can. Lose the tail, the mask, and the ears..."
"I sort of liked the ears," Haley teased. Sher was right---she should loosen up and have some fun---at least after work.
Sher circled Haley, looking her up and down. She returned the glasses. A wicked glint gleamed in Sher's eyes, a sure sign of trouble. "Go put on the costume, sans tail, ears and mask, and hurry back. Don't forget to wear the sexy boots."
Fear coiled in Haley's gut as she settled her glasses on her nose. "Why?"
"No questions. Just do it." As Haley started to leave, her friend added, "Lose the specs and put in your contacts."
"Aye, captain."
"Stop whining and get your tush back here, pronto."
Haley changed almost as fast as Superman, feeling akin to him in her costume, then she rushed back to Sher's place. "I'm back, Dr. Frankenstein."
Sher pulled her into her boudoir and sat her at the vanity. "Much better. If I had your figure, nothing would make me hide it." She stood behind Haley and peered at her in the mirror, sifting her fingers through the blonde silky locks. "Redhead or brunette?"
"What?" She frowned at her friend's reflection in the mirror. Did she think Haley bleached her hair? "I'm a natural blonde."
"I know, silly. Dare to be different. Would you rather be a redhead or a brunette?" Sher grabbed two wigs, one red and one dark brown, and held them up, one on each side of Haley's face.
"I never thought about it. Why?" Haley shrugged, studying them. Didn't everyone want to go blonde? Blondes didn't usually change color, did they?
Sher fit the brown wig on her, arranging it and then standing back to view her handiwork. She held up both thumbs. "Fantastic. It was made for you."
Haley's jaw dropped open, and she stared at the exquisite stranger in the mirror. Could that really be her? Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined herself looking so sultry, so...so sexy. She was transformed. Stunning. "You're a magician."
A smug smile played about Sher's lips. "I am pretty good, aren't I? We've gotta take a test run."
Haley stared in the mirror and took inventory. She might've gotten away with wearing a skintight black outfit on Halloween, but on a normal night? "In public? I'd get arrested for sure."
Sher wiggled her eyebrows. "Just make sure the right cop does the arresting."
Haley grew warm and tingly down to her pussy at the thought of her dream cop taking her into his private custody. Ahh, the stuff of erotic fantasies. She groaned, hoping he had fur-lined handcuffs... She brought up her dangerously spinning thoughts short. "Don't tempt me."
"You know where he lives? Where he hangs out? What beat he's on?" Sher clucked her tongue. "You really are naïve, aren't you?"
Yikes! "I can't chase him." Haley pushed away the titillating remembrance of herself and the sexy cop. She'd been brought up that women didn't chase men.
"Oh, he'll think he's hunting you, but first, you have to let him get your scent and get you in his sights, else he won't know where to find you."
How deliciously devious! She longed to reel in Cole, yet she hated deceit. Shouldn't he love her body, soul and mind, not just her body? She already knew he lusted for her body, but that wasn't enough. She quirked her brow at her friend. "How do I get him to love me, not just my hot bod?"
Sher just laughed. "First you get his attention, and then you can dazzle him with your brains."
Feeling like a different woman, a highly desirable, irresistible siren, Haley sauntered back to her apartment. At Sher's prompting, she kept on the wig and contact lenses, but exchanged the leotard for a pair of black denim slacks. Not one to watch much television, she turned on her police scanner as she read her e-mail. She opened a note from her father, a captain on the force back home. He raved over the accolades of her older sisters and brother, all of whom proudly served in blue---all except her. Although he didn't put her down, she could read between the lines. Again, she cursed the accident that had ruined her vision so that she wasn't physically fit to be a member of Ft. Lauderdale's finest.
Next, she opened an e-mail from her mother, asking if she was ready to leave the big city yet and come home. Then she asked if Haley had a man friend yet or any prospects. Then she drooled about her eldest daughter's new baby, and then about Selena's wedding preparations. Even her brother Joel had a steady girlfriend who made her mother hear wedding bells. Again, although it wasn't spelled out, Haley could read her mother's disappointment.
Sighing, Haley clicked forward to the next e-mail, one from Lizette, telling her all about Brandon, Haley's four-month-old nephew and the joy of Lizette's life. She went into detail about every new accomplishment---smiling, gurgling, lifting his head, and even told her about his doctor's checkup. She'd made a website with the baby's pictures so Haley surfed over and checked it out. The baby was adorable and she ached to hold him in her arms. She'd have to make a trip home to see him before he grew much larger, before he didn't remember his auntie. How wonderful it would be to have one of those for her very own. But at the rate she was going with no love life, the prospects didn't look likely. She'd die an old maid.
Alas, Haley lived vicariously by listening to the police scanner. While her teenage friends listened to rock-and-roll, she'd been listening in on her dad's force. Now she listened in on her coworkers. Things had been quiet all evening, so maybe Cole and Brad hadn't been called out to the stakeout after all.
Then she caught sight of herself in the computer monitor's reflection. Wearing this wig, in this entirely black outfit, and with the skillfully applied makeup, she sizzled. If only she could get up the nerve to go out like this.
"Officers in trouble at Commercial and 44th!" Cole's voice barked from the scanner. Gunshots resounded in the background. "Need immediate assistance! Send backup! Sniper on roof!"
Oh, God. Haley almost fell off her chair. Her stomach flip-flopped as she stared at the little black box crackling with static. Cole had to have the worst luck. According to her monitoring, he fell into more danger than all the other cops in the precinct combined.
She could help him again. She had to help him again.
Thrills shot through her. That night had been the most exhilarating night of her life. The taste of Cole's luscious cock still lingered in her mouth and she trembled just thinking about his silky hardness. What she wouldn't give for a repeat. Thwarting the bad guy and saving the hero in distress had numbered way up there, also.
But she didn't have the authority to interfere. She didn't have a badge, and she never would. Neither Superman nor Batman had ever had a badge, nor any of a host of other superheroes. Not that she was a superhero---just a concerned citizen. When she got right down to it, Superman and Batman were just glorified concerned citizens, right? No one had ever denied their help. Why should they deny hers? Cole had seemed grateful the night before. Surely, he'd be grateful again.
"Car 85 is on the way. Estimated arrival is ten minutes." Sheila's voice vibrated over the radio. Haley would recognize her nasal voice anywhere.
Cole swore. She knew that he knew he couldn't swear over the police airwaves, but his voice was distant as if he'd covered the radio. "We'll be mincemeat in ten minutes! Get someone here sooner!"
"Will try." Edginess sliced through Sheila's professional tones.
Haley lived right around the corner. She could make it sooner if she went as she was. She'd pray he wouldn't recognize her wearing the wig in the dark. She'd stick to the shadows. Stopping only to grab her keys, not even her purse or identification, she ran to her car. But the stupid thing coughed and spluttered. "Don't you dare throw a hissy-fit now, Missy," she ordered, slamming the flat of her hand on the steering wheel. She cranked the engine again, encouraging it to work. "Cole's depending on us! You can do it."
But Missy didn't care. Or maybe she was afraid of doing a little police work. Missy backfired and died. An oily plume of smoke curled up from the grille, gagging Haley.
"What now?" Cole needed her. She spied Sher's motorcycle. Did she dare borrow it? Would her friend let her use it? She ran back to Sher's apartment and banged on the door.
Haley cut Sher off when she opened her mouth. "Keys now! I need your wheels. It's life and death." She held her hand out, palm up under her friend's nose. "I learned how to ride a cycle in my academy days. I promise I won't put a scratch on her." She crossed her toes, hoping neither she nor the bike got caught in crossfire. "I'll owe you big time."
Sher cleared her throat. "You already owe me big time. So who's dying?"
"No time. I'll fill you in later. Thanks!" She snatched the keys and raced away, praying her impulsive friend wouldn't follow her. That's all she needed was for her to get in the way. She jumped on the cycle, and it purred to life as soon as she turned the key in the ignition, thank God.
A few revs of the engine later, and she closed in on Cole and Brad. A moonless night, she could barely make out their shapes huddled behind their unmarked brown sedan. At least, she presumed it was the cops and not the robbers. She stopped and hid the cycle in a grove of palm trees, and then slunk along the sides of the buildings, sticking to the shadows.
Someone had barbecued in one of the nearby apartments and the scent lingered on the muggy air. It mingled with the odor of several fast-food restaurants dotting Commercial Boulevard, almost nauseating her. The oil from the burger joints almost clogged her pores it was so thick. She covered her nose and breathed through her mouth.
Gunfire rang out, and she stopped dead, not daring to inhale. The flash of flame had burst forth from the roof of the mall. The structure was only one story, and she had a good view of the man from the side. His focus was on the cops, and he hadn't glanced her way as yet. She could sneak up on his rear and startle him long enough for Cole and his partner to get the drop on him. Then she could sneak away, and Cole wouldn't even know she'd been there.
Crouching low, she wound her way through the maze of buildings until she came up on the sniper's rear in the alley sandwiched between the strip mall and a dark, eerie canal. Light from a nearby window glinted off a hubcap, beckoning to her. Even though it lay in a circle of light, she chanced retrieving it. It could serve many useful purposes---a shield, a weapon, or a noisemaker to distract the gunman.
"Throw down your guns and come out with your hands up," a voice commanded, followed by an evil laugh that cut straight through Haley. It wasn't a voice she recognized, so it had to belong to the shooter. "Do it now, or I'll shoot! I have you in my sights."
A pregnant pause rent the air. Then the hostile voice repeated, "I said drop them, pigs! Now, or you'll be holier than a tennis racket."
Heavy metal clanged on the asphalt. Then the sound repeated.
Oh, no. Both Cole and Brad must have followed orders and were now at the criminal's mercy. She didn't trust the man not to shoot. Time was up. She had to do something.
An idea popped into her head. She banged the hubcap on the ground so that it sounded like a cymbal, and then shouted, "Drop your weapon! We have you surrounded!"
Whirling in her direction, the criminal snarled at her, hatred in his eyes.
When she got him in her sights, she flung the hubcap like a Frisbee with all her might. It knocked the gun out of his hand as the bullet exploded in her direction.
The bullet whizzed by her temple as she ducked. The gun clattered to the pavement, followed by pounding footsteps and men's urgent voices.
"Get him!" Cole shouted as footsteps hammered the ground closer and closer to her. He rounded the corner.
So, this was how a deer trapped in headlights felt. She froze for a split second before panic propelled her to run.
"Hey, you! Stop!"
She'd sooner be kidnapped by aliens than have him capture her. Adrenaline burst through her, catapulting her forward.
"Halt! By order of the police!"
Haley's heart was about to burst, but she kept going. Her head spinning, she dragged the cycle out of the grove of trees, hopped on, kick-started it, and sped off, spewing dust and gravel behind her.
"This is war," Cole muttered under his breath as he made a suspect list of women who could be his Catwoman. No one else had been helped by an unknown woman in black. He was sure he wasn't dreaming, but he wasn't sure someone wasn't trying to make him think he was nuts.
The new woman from West Palm Beach topped his suspect list because she was built and had dark chestnut hair. Although he hadn't gotten a very close look at his rescuer that night, at least she hadn't been wearing a mask or cap. Long, dark brown hair had framed an exquisite face with Grecian features. The hair had been straight and silky and almost as dark as the rest of the woman's outfit---Catwoman minus the tail, cap, ears, and mask. Erotically enticing.
Steam practically curled from his ears at the memory. He'd always thought ultra-feminine, clingy, trophy women were his type, but there was something very sexy about the independent, take-charge, mysterious allure of this female. He vowed to find her, and the pencil he gripped snapped in two. Disgusted with himself, he trashed the ruined instrument.
Brad glanced up from his report and shook his head, his hair falling rakishly across his forehead. "You still got that dame on the brain?"
With a huge sigh, Cole leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and stared at his moronic buddy. "Yep. It's not every day a goddess saves my neck." He let his gaze roam over all the females in the room, assessing them for the hundredth time each, still no closer to an answer than he'd been the first time he'd evaluated them.
"Who do you think it could be? The new chick from West Palm Beach has chestnut hair and a dynamite figure. What about her?" Brad's eyes twinkled when his gaze settled on her with a hubba-hubba gleam. "Could be. She fits the make." He cracked his knuckles one by one. His gaze slid to Sheila, another brunette. "What about Sheila? You said the woman has dark hair."
Cole checked her out, shaking his head. "Too short, too wide around the waist, and too flat-chested."
"Cindy?" Brad's lips twitched as he watched the luscious secretary parade around the office delivering interoffice mail. "She's got some bodacious ta-tas, and I slipped and told her we might be on that stakeout."
Alarmed at his partner's slip, Cole's gaze riveted on him. "You know you're not supposed to divulge classified information. You could get written up for that." Or worse. Agitated, he raked his fingers through his shorn hair. Unlike his friend, he wore a Marine haircut, just a tad longer than a crew cut. It didn't fall in his face, wasn't in his way, and was never out of regs. Thus it wasn't a bother to him when he swam or played ball, and stayed off his neck.
"I slipped, man. I didn't mean to tell her. She was practically suicidal I had to break our date." Brad's voice was pitched low.
"You think Cindy's the one?" She had a curvy figure and good legs which she sure liked to show off. She even had glossy mahogany hair. But she seemed like the damsel-in-distress-waiting-to-be-rescued type, not the Xena, Warrior Princess, take-charge type. No stretch of his imagination could make him see her facing an armed gunman or saving the day.
Another question popped into his mind. "Cin was at the Halloween party, wasn't she?" Her presence still left him with a mystery, for Cindy couldn't have been his masked, mysterious temptress.
"Yep. Cin posed as Cinderella." Brad wiggled his brows. He put his hand over his heart and bowed in a courtly manner. "I was her Prince Charming."
"Don't make me gag." Just as he'd surmised, Cindy was the sugary type. Any more so and she'd give his pal diabetes. "That rules her out."
"Speaking of Cinderella, too bad your Catwoman didn't leave anything behind like a glass slipper."
Brad's idea sparked a memory and a goofy grin stretched his lips. "Maybe she did leave something." Something much better, much more identifying than a glass slipper. Maybe she left her fingerprints on the hubcap she'd hurled at the gunman. It was worth a shot. "You're a genius. Come on!" He jumped to his feet so fast, his chair crashed into the desk behind him.
"Where we goin'?" Brad's footsteps scuffled hurriedly behind Cole.
"Scene of the crime. Anyone else overhear your slip to Cin? Who else was in earshot?" Worry washed over Cole. This wasn't good. Not good at all.
Brad hesitated a few seconds, and then said in a thoughtful tone, "That Bailey dame. Cin's friend who wears the butt-ugly suits all the time."
Cole racked his brain, came up blank, and frowned. "Who's Bailey?" He looked around the room in the hopes he'd remember. Nothing. He shrugged.
Brad tilted his head at the blonde behind one of the desks. "You know, the cookie lady. The one who likes to suck on Tootsie Roll Pops everyday."
Cole only dragged up a dim vision of this woman. He changed course so he could take a look. "I thought her name was Holly."
"Bailey, Holly, Molly---somethin' like that." Brad trailed after him, bumping into Cole's back when he stopped in front of the blonde's desk.
It couldn't be Blondie. Although her hair was a very pretty color, it was scraped back from her face and twisted into an unattractive bun. His temptress had the most luscious dark brown hair that fell in loose, curly waves around her pixie face.
He crossed the Holly chick off his list.
The secretary looked up, a quizzical light flashing in her eyes covered by her clunky glasses. "Can I do something for you?" Her face remained expressionless, even cold.
This plain ice maiden definitely wasn't his girl.
Nothing fit. She had no figure. Not a curve was outlined by her stuffy, three-piece suit. He wondered how she could stand to wear her blouse buttoned all the way up to her neck and to wear such starched, stiff fabric. He was about to suffocate just looking at her. The only feminine thing about her was her habit of baking cookies all the time. Deep down, she must have a Martha Stewart fetish. Maybe if she'd lay off the cookies, she'd develop a more womanly shape.
"Is there something I can do for you, Officer?" Her voice had a sharp edge this time, startling him out of his reverie.
Embarrassment stole over him. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea about why he was ogling her. Clearing his throat, picking up a cookie, he bit into it. Pure ambrosia. "I came for a cookie."
The woman nodded and held up the plate to Brad. "Take one for the road, if you like." After they each took a second cookie, she returned to her work, dismissing them.
When they were out of earshot, Brad clapped Cole on the shoulder and taunted, "Real smooth, Ace."
Cole's lips twisted. "Pretty lame, all right." Usually, he was more charming with the ladies. He hoped he wasn't losing his touch. "She's not my mystery woman anyway. No big loss." He itched to find the luscious brunette. Maybe she'd give him a ride on her motorcycle. He grew hot and bothered just thinking about riding behind her, wrapping his arms around her slender waist, brushing the undersides of those full, heavy, perfect breasts with his arms...
Whew! He needed a cold shower and looser slacks. Now he'd done it. He could barely walk. With every step he took his pants chafed a very sensitive part of his anatomy.
"Fisher, Mueller. Look here." Captain Crowe's head stuck out of his glass office and his forefinger beckoned. Better than his middle finger, but Cole sighed at the interruption nonetheless.
"What now?" Brad muttered under his breath, his teeth grinding loudly.
"Don't know. Left my crystal ball at home today." Cole wished there really was such a thing as a crystal ball, then he could look into it for his answers.
Brad snorted. "Hope this doesn't mean we'll be tied up during the softball tournament this weekend."
Cole would prefer the Captain didn't mess up the weekend tournament either, but he'd live. Brad, however, lived to play softball, and still probably harbored dreams of being discovered by a pro scout so he could go big time.
Captain Crowe paced behind his desk, his hands linked behind his back. The captain towered over Cole, who was no slouch. Afternoon sunlight glinted off the captain's balding head. What little hair he had left was iron gray. Gaunt cheeks and a too thin, hooked nose dominated his long horse-like face. "Close the door, boys."
As no one had called Cole "boy" in over ten years. Cole arched his brow, but stood at parade rest, his gaze solidly on his superior. They didn't always see eye to eye, but Cole respected him.
Crowe hitched up his slacks as he lowered himself into his chair. He rested his bony elbows on his large oak desk. "Take a seat." He picked up a report on top of his stack, and tossed it on his desk. The papers smacked loudly and created a gust of wind. "Explain this."
Cole swallowed the sudden lump in his throat as he recognized the report he had handed in about the two Catwoman episodes. He exchanged glances with his partner who nodded at him to take the lead.
"What's this shit about an unknown superwoman saving your sorry ass twice?" The captain opened the file and spun it around so he could read from it. "Archie said she was dressed like Catwoman the first night?" Disbelief echoed in his voice. "He getting dementia now?"
Cole's gut twisted into a pretzel. He hadn't really thought Archie would add that little detail to his official report. He stared his boss square in the eye and spoke as matter-of-factly as he could. "No, sir."
The top sheet of the report crackled when Crowe held it up. "'No, sir', he wasn't imagining things? Or 'no, sir', the woman wasn't dressed up as Catwoman?" He expelled a long sigh and mumbled under his breath, "What's this city coming to? Now we have comic-strip characters playing cops and robbers?" He pounded the desk with his fist. "This isn't Gotham City!"
Cole squirmed under the man's intense gaze and he shifted in his seat. His Adam's apple protruded painfully. "No, sir, he wasn't imagining things. Yes, sir, the woman was dressed up as the fictional cartoon character of Catwoman from Batman."
Crowe's gaze shifted to Brad. "Can you corroborate this, lieutenant?"
Brad ran his finger under the neck of his T-shirt. "No, suh. I wasn't present at the crime scene when the first incident occurred. The woman wasn't wearing the Catwoman costume that night when I saw her."
Crowe leaned forward, replacing the paper and folding his hands on top of the desk. "You get a good look? Can you identify her?"
"No, suh." Brad cracked a knuckle and stopped in the middle of cracking a second one when the captain scowled. "It was dark, she wore all black and kept mostly to the shadows. I only saw her back briefly."
Crowe shot the next question at Cole. "What about you? You saw her twice, plus according to the report, you think she was a policewoman." Crowe leaned back in his chair, folded one leg over the other, and crossed his arms over his chest. "What makes you think that? And why the hell, would one of my officers back you up out of uniform and without following proper procedure?"
"I don't know, sir," Cole answered the last question first. "The woman wouldn't stop and identify herself or talk to me. She ran off both times when I tried to ascertain her identity." It was still a complete puzzle, especially how she knew where he was and that he was in trouble. The first time could have been a fluke, but not the second. Not unless fairy godmothers were for real and his liked to dress in black. Fairy godmothers were supposed to wear white, frilly gowns, carry magic wands and flit around, not perform karate and ride motorcycles, not unless the rules had changed a whole heck of a lot since the new millennium began.
"So why do you think she's a cop?" Crowe bellowed, clearly out of patience. He slammed his fist into the desk again, so hard his paperweight jumped. "We can't have our officers going around masquerading incognito, nor can we have civilians interfering in police matters." He rubbed his balding head and sighed. "It's downright embarrassing for one, dangerous for two. What if the press gets wind of this?"
"I met her at the police Halloween party earlier that evening, sir. It was the same woman." Cole squared his shoulders, fidgeting. It was getting awfully stuffy despite the whoosh of cold air from the ceiling vent directly overhead. Sweat trickled down his back. Cole loosened his collar so he could breathe easier.
"So, you do know her. You can ID her?" Crowe squinted, rubbing his bald spot again.
"Well, uh, no, sir. She wore a mask all night and she didn't tell me her name." He'd been much too busy making love to the sexy mystery woman to ask her name. He'd meant to get it out of her before the night's end. But he hadn't counted on being called away early, and he'd never dreamed how the night would end.
"I want you to find her and I want a report on my desk by next week." Crowe drummed his fingers on the desk. "If you see her again, you are to apprehend and unmask her. Do you have any clues to her identity?"
Cole thought about the hubcap and prayed it was still there, and that they'd find traceable fingerprints. "One possibility. We were on our way to check it out when you stopped us."
Crowe waved them away, scowling darkly. "Go, go! Get this menace off my streets before the press gets wind of her."
Cole was only too happy to oblige. His hand was on the doorknob when the captain stopped them.
"Fischer, don't let our precinct be a laughingstock, you hear?" The captain glared.
Cole nodded, grimacing. "Roger that. I have no desire to be the butt of jokes either, sir."
"Yes, suh." Brad shoved Cole out the door, almost pushing him over. "We'll find her for you."
"Report all findings to me ASAP. You're dismissed. Get out of here."
Cole fought the urge to salute. Between clenched teeth, he said to his partner, "Let's find that hubcap and get it to Forensics."
\*
Haley held out Sher's brunette wig to her friend on the tip of her finger. "Thanks."
Sher scrunched her nose and shook her head. "Keep it. I look ghastly in it." She put her finger on each of ten other wigs in various styles and colors before lifting a blonde wig in a pageboy style and fitting it over her head. She turned her head left, then right, and then stuck her tongue out at herself. "How do I look?"
Haley eyed all the hairpieces. "Like a chameleon." She smiled sweetly and added with a chuckle, "I'm blonde, and you're trying to make me a brunette. You're a redhead, and you want to be a blonde."
"We all want to be somebody we're not, dearie, at least occasionally. It breaks the monotony." Sher yanked off the blonde pageboy and replaced it with a blonde, shoulder-length, curly wig. Her gaze locked with Haley's in the vanity mirror. She whipped it off and thrust it into Haley's hands. "I bet your real hair would look cute like this. I want to see you in it. Try it on."
Haley complied and liked it instantly. "It's darling. I never thought I could be so pretty."
Sher's brows drew together into one long line as her forehead crinkled. "You're very pretty. You just need to update your look. French twists went out in the fifties." She stood and grabbed her scissors. "Sit." She pushed Haley down onto the vanity chair.
Haley's gaze flicked between her friend's determined glint and the shiny shears with trepidation. "What do you think you're doing?"
Sher lifted off the wig and put it on the stand directly in front of her. A wicked smile played about her lips. "Giving you a makeover. Trust me?"
"Do you know what you're doing? Maybe I should go to a salon." She mentally calculated her bills and figured she could squeeze in a haircut and perm, if she ate peanut butter sandwiches all week.
"I know what I'm doing. Relax." She snipped a long lock of Haley's silky hair in two. "If I mess up, you can wear the wig 'til it grows out."
Haley's eyes widened in alarm and her muscles bunched to bolt.
"Just kidding."
Sher cut her hair expertly as Haley squeezed her eyes tightly shut, praying. Hair fell on her lap, her arms, and down her blouse, tickling her. She focused on the humorous sitcom flitting across the television screen rather than the fate of her hair.
"Okay, you can look now." Sher stepped back, a grin on her face.
Haley peered into her friend's smug face and then fingered her hair, which was still straight and limp, just shorter. Then she eyed the curly wig. "Curlers don't work on my hair."
"It still needs a perm." Sher glanced at her watch. "We still have time tonight. I'll just run to the store and be right back."
Haley cleaned up the hair from the floor. "I'm going to bake cookies 'til you get back."
Sher paused, hand on hip. "How do you stay so thin when you bake cookies nightly?"
"Easy. I rarely eat them and if I do, just one. I love to bake and I love the scent of baking cookies." She laughed at the memory of Cole enjoying her cookies. "And the police officers love to eat."
"I hope it's true that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach then." Sher opened the door. "I'll be back in a few."
"I hope so, too," Haley said. Cole's face flashed in her mind and she hugged herself. She shivered all over at the memory of being in his arms, of caressing, licking, and tasting his luscious cock. Maybe she could bake something special that would light his fire for her---not for the sensually erotic Catwoman.
Excitement brimmed on Cindy's face as she held out a present tied with a red, white and blue bow. "Tah-dah! Hurry and open it. I can't stand the suspense."
Haley had to laugh at the other woman. "You already know what's in here. Why're you in suspense?"
"I can't wait to see your face when you see it." Cindy clapped her hands and jumped up and down, her curls bouncing around her waist.
"Let me guess---you were a cheerleader, weren't you?" Haley asked wryly, envisioning her friend on a football field at halftime in twirling miniskirts.
"You must be psychic. I haven't told anyone here." Cindy's eyes glowed happily with memories as she nibbled on one of Haley's peanut butter cookies.
"It's not Christmas, and it's not my birthday." Haley turned over the mystery package in her hands, examining it. "So, what's the occasion? You got promoted? Brad popped the big question?"
Cindy perched on her desk and grimaced at the mention of an engagement. "You'll see when you open it. Hurry up before I open it for you."
When Cindy plucked at the ribbon, Haley slapped away her hand. "Nah-uh, I'll open it." She pulled at the bow and a large yellow T-shirt with the black number three fell out. Upon closer examination, she saw "Bumble Bees" lettered over the number.
Bumble Bees? Amused, she nearly chortled out loud and covered her mouth with her hand. "This is, uh, very nice, Cin. What's it for?"
"You're going to play on our softball team. You can play, can't you?" Hope flickered in Cindy's eyes.
"Well, I've played a few times. I'm not very good." Haley looked at the tag and read aloud, "Extra-large?" Yikes! She would swim in it. She glanced down at herself with disgust. Did she really look so gargantuan?
Miss Sportswoman stopped munching the cookie and blushed. "If it's too small, I think we have some double extra-larges."
Flabbergasted and insulted to the max, Haley's jaw wanted to drop open, but she clamped it tight. So, she wasn't a born athlete and she wasn't an ex-rah-rah girl, but that didn't make her a blundering hippo, either. Trying not to be hurt by the unintended insult, she mumbled, "No, this'll be all right." A uniform shirt should have plenty of room for moving about and breathing. She just hoped it wasn't so large she'd trip over it and break her neck. Now that would grab Cole's attention, but not in the way she wanted.
Cindy brightened and jumped to her feet. "Good! Meet us at Mills Pond no later than 6:30 tonight." Without waiting to hear if Haley could fit the game into her schedule, she sashayed back to her desk. "See you then!" she tossed over her shoulder.
Haley groaned and wiggled her fingers to Miss Rah-Rah's back. "Ciao." She gulped. Crazy! She'd disgrace herself and help the opposing team to win. Flying projectiles hurtling toward her at eighty-plus miles per hour made her cringe and want to hit the deck. She tended to close her eyes and duck. Not a prize-winning recipe for sure.
All day long, she dreaded the game and tried to get her nerve up to bow out. Clouds grew heavy and dark outside, and she prayed for rain. At this point, she'd even welcome a hurricane. "Rain, rain, rain," she chanted in her head, about ready to do a rain dance or hire someone to salt the clouds with dry ice, but she didn't know how to do a rain dance and her bank account was woefully pathetic.
When D-Hour rolled around, she strolled onto the field, calling herself a fool. She'd stopped at the store to purchase shorts, cleats, and a glove. While there, she'd also picked up a band to securely hold on her glasses, so they wouldn't fall off when she ran.
"She made it!" Cindy yelled and ran to greet her. Her T-shirt gloved her torso, delineating her breasts and tiny waist. Her hair bobbed up and down behind her in a long ponytail. "I was afraid you'd change your mind."
"I'm here." She felt like a rhinoceros in her extra-large shirt next to her sexy friend. With a swallowed grimace, she noted the other women's shirts all fit them much better than hers.
Cindy led her to the field and turned with her bouncy exuberance. "Can you play outfield?"
Haley glanced at the ominous cloud cover. Any time now, she coaxed silently. "Fine," she lied, terrified. If a high fly ball came at her, she'd panic. She'd never liked flying projectiles, but since her sight had been damaged, she really couldn't take them now. Whether it was the fuzziness or earned paranoia that she needed to overcome, she wasn't sure.
"You know everyone here, I think, except possibly for the new cop, Erika." Cindy pulled Haley into the group and thrust her at Erika.
For the first time, Haley noticed Cole, his softball cap pulled low on his forehead, his thigh brushing Erika's silky exposed leg. Jealousy knifed through Haley, but she couldn't unglue her gaze from them.
Cole openly admired the beautiful brunette as he cracked gum and tossed a softball into his glove, over and over. She hadn't thought he could look any sexier than he did in his police blues, but he still managed to steal her breath.
The umpire called, "Play ball!" as he dusted home plate with a squat, wooden-handled brush. His sky-blue shirt came untucked from his dark blue shorts, and he casually tucked it back in.
"We're at bat first." Cindy sat between Brad and Cole, then scooted over to make room for Haley next to Cole and patted the bench.
Haley blinked, and then tried to get a grip on herself. She had no choice but to sit next to Cole unless she wanted to look gauche.
Cole sniffed, turning his head and scrunching his nose. "What's that smell?"
Grilling hot dogs and burgers drifted on the breeze. Cindy's unique fragrance, a mixture of exotic flowers and amber, hung cloyingly in the air.
Cindy giggled. "That's Haley's hair."
The perm! Haley had gotten used to the pungent aroma and forgotten all about it. Her hand crept up to her new curls. Mortified, she wanted to crawl under the bench and sneak away. "It must be my new permanent."
Cole glanced over her hair and nodded, his expression blank. Then he leaned over Haley to wink at Erika.
Haley felt dashed. First she was fat, now she stunk. Next she'd trip over her feet on the field like a total dork.
"Rain! Please rain!" she begged silently, folding her hands in her lap, but the unmerciful clouds ignored her.
Haley batted fourth in the lineup, with one out and one runner on base. She choked up on a lightweight metal bat and took a couple of practice swings. She buoyed her courage and forbade herself from squeezing her eyes shut when the pitch came. Psyched to a fever pitch, she swung way over her head at a wild pitch.
"Strike one!" The umpire shouted behind her.
Cole warmed up on the side, swinging his bat. He swore under his breath when she golfed at the next pitch. "Time out!" he yelled, and strode to her purposefully, his cleats spewing dust behind him.
Unable to formulate words, she stared, waiting for him to kick her out of the game. Her lungs were so stiff, she couldn't inhale.
He invaded her space, his face a mere two inches from her own.
God, but she'd had fantasies of such a moment, only without the deadly scowl and booing audience. Real life sucked.
"Take a deep breath, and wait for the ball to come to you. Don't reach."
Her eyes so wide they ached, she nodded. Her curls bounced, tickling her cheek. They felt alien.
He laid a warm, vibrant hand on her shoulder and smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Relax. It's just a game. We won't tar and feather you if you strike out." He glanced Brad's way. "At least I won't, and I won't let the psycho there bully you."
Maybe he liked her a bit after all.
A tremulous smile returned to her lips, and she inhaled, the knot in her stomach loosening. "Okay."
He squeezed her shoulder, shooting wildfire through her veins. "Go get 'em, slugger." He backed out of the way.
She repositioned her feet, choked up on the bat, and nodded to the pitcher.
He threw three pitches, and then she hit a line drive down the third baseline, shocking herself.
"Run, run, run!" Cindy jumped up and down, rattling the chain link fence, practically climbing it.
"Go!" Cole shouted, his hands cupping his mouth.
The first baseman held her glove in front of her body, her expression rapt. A long, tightly permed, honey-brown ponytail stuck through the back of her cap.
The second base umpire ran toward first base from centerfield, blowing a bubble and popping it as she hustled.
Haley pushed herself forward, the cleats awkward and heavy beneath her. Her tent-sized shirt flapped around her. She ran across first base as the baseman caught the ball. Too much momentum propelled her, so that she couldn't stop until after she overran the base several steps.
The ump yelled, "Safe!" behind her as her team cheered, and the first baseman cursed and threw her glove on the ground at her feet. Catcalls echoed from the dugout.
Cole sauntered up to the plate, his steps full of confidence, his eyes full of challenge. His biceps flexed beneath his shirt as he took a few powerful practice swings.
Mesmerized, Haley gulped in a huge lungful of muggy air. The muscles between her legs clenched as she watched him covertly from beneath her veiled lashes. She forced herself to crouch, and ready herself to run, one foot pointed at second base. She pulled her cap down over her head more securely, and adjusted her glasses.
Cole slugged the ball high over the right fielder's head and ran for first, dust spewing behind him. "Run!" he shouted at Haley as he closed in on her fast.
Haley ran as hard as she could, rounding second base and then third, aware Cole pounded at her heels.
Lightning split the sky and a thunderous boom followed almost immediately. The heavens opened up and rain poured down on her head.
Haley slid into home and Cole landed atop her, his arms pinning her beneath him. His heart beat against hers.
Her heart skipped several beats and she wished he were atop her for far better, more exciting reasons than softball. But she'd take what she could get. If softball landed him atop her, she'd play on the team until she was too old to hobble to the plate.
"Get off the field!" the home plate ump ordered, as another lightning bolt struck not fifty feet away.
Blinded by the flash of light, Haley gasped.
Strong arms lifted her, and then an iron grip tugged her hand so hard it almost dislocated her shoulder. "Run," Cole shouted, "unless you want to get fried!"
Muddy and out of breath, she stumbled behind him, clutching his hand, as he ran to the clubhouse. Wind howled. Rain slashed at her face. Another lightning bolt struck the generator on the far side of the field, and sparks flew wildly. The box exploded and the field lights flickered, drowning them in blackness.
Haley couldn't see, not even dim shapes. Trembling, she snuggled against Cole's delightfully warm chest.
His arms crept around her, and he gathered her close. "We're safe now."
His breath tickled her neck, and she could smell his spearmint gum.
"I thought for sure that last lightning bolt had our name on it."
"Me, too." She blinked several times, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She rubbed them underneath her glasses, careful not to take the glasses completely off. "I'm still seeing spots."
"Your heart's still racing, too." He grinned down at her, his features in shadow.
"Oh..." She wasn't about to tell him it was his nearness and not the lightning that made her heart pound so hard. "Thanks for the advice and for saving me." She thanked God for the darkness so Cole couldn't look too closely. She didn't want him to recognize her as his comic-book heroine.
He whipped off his cap and bowed. "My pleasure. Everyone needs rescuing at one time or another."
So, now, he only owed her one, although she wasn't about to tell him her secret. Let him think she was beholden to him. Besides, she wanted him to like her for her real self. Her blonde, everyday self who wore big clunky glasses.
\*
Confusion filled Cole and he fiddled with the papers on his desk, not really seeing them. Much as his white knight in black thrilled him, much as she fascinated him, he liked the feeling of being the rescuer, too. He had enjoyed rescuing Haley. He had liked her neediness and how soft she had felt in his arms. He liked how macho she made him feel.
He couldn't get her off his mind. The trouble was, he couldn't get his brunette savior off his mind, either. Two women fought for his heart.
Hopeless. He was doomed. That's all there was to it. He wasn't meant to settle down with just one woman. Why not date both women? That's if he ever discovered his Catwoman's secret identity.
A shadow fell across his desk and he looked up. Haley held a cake before her and slid it onto his desk. "Thank you again." She pivoted on her heel and started to leave.
"Wait!" Cole's heart jumped in his chest and he leaped to his feet, rounded his desk and blocked her escape. He longed to keep her with him for at least a few minutes. "You can't just drop off a cake and walk away. Stay and share a piece."
Crimson filled the apple of her cheeks and her smile lit his heart. She smelled wonderful, and he searched his memory for the familiar scent. Vanilla, like warm, baking Christmas cookies.
"I'm watching my weight," she said with a shy but alluring smile.
"One little sliver can't hurt much." He captured her tiny hand in his, and backed up toward his desk, pulling her with him. He got a better look at her face than he had before and he sucked in his breath. She was really quite exquisite. Fine, delicate bone structure. A creamy complexion in a heart-shaped face, and a dimpled chin framed by golden curls. He wondered how he had missed her before. It must have been the archaic, unattractive hairstyle she had insisted on wearing that had made her seem plain, even dowdy.
"Really, I shouldn't." But she let herself be led slowly and inexorably to his desk.
"Is there something else I can interest you in?" Coffee, tea, or me, he wanted to ask. Instead, he recalled the previous evening and asked, "How about some batting lessons? Tradewinds Park has batting cages. How about tonight?" He paused for effect, lowering his voice. "We could stop for dinner first."
"That'd be fun." She looked down at her linen suit and high heels. "I'll have to go home and change first."
"I'll pick you up at your place at 6:30. E-mail the address and directions to me." Reluctantly, he relinquished her hand as she pulled away, aware that they were garnering attention from their coworkers, not sure he gave a damn.
She just smiled a Mona Lisa smile that about drove him out of his mind. His glance fell to her shapely legs as she strolled back to her workstation and surprise flickered through him that someone of her weight could have such fantastic gams. Come to think of it, her face was extremely slim for someone of her weight. This one wasn't completely without mystery herself.
"I thought you liked the other one," Brad said sotto voce behind him. "Does this mean the hunt's off for your mystery woman?"
Cole swallowed his annoyance and turned to stare at his nosy friend. "I'm a free man. I can be interested in two women at once. Haven't you ever watched The Bachelor?" He glanced at Crowe's office. "Yeah, I'd still like to find my costumed crusader. Besides, we've been ordered to find her, so we couldn't give up regardless."
He cut a piece of cake and stuffed it in his mouth. The sugary concoction melted on his tongue, sending him into rapture. "You've got to try this." He served a slice to Brad.
Cindy hummed under her breath as she delivered mail throughout the department. "Special delivery from forensics for you, Lieutenant Fischer." She eyed the cake with interest and sidled up to Cole, her flowered scent overpowering. Her makeup caked too heavily on her face. "Your girlfriend bake you the goodies?"
"Have a piece," Cole offered, sliding a napkin to her. "Help yourself." He sidestepped her question, opening the envelope she'd dropped in his lap, eager to see the fingerprint report. Disappointment washed over him when the report he'd been pinning his hopes on was inconclusive. A damn smudged fingerprint. Just his lousy luck.
"Is there anything else for me?" He looked around her to the mail cart she wheeled throughout the office hoping for a miracle.
"Expecting a love letter or something?" Cindy batted her lashes coquettishly and sank her perfect teeth into the cake.
"Or something," Cole mumbled. He drummed his fingers on his desk, anxious to find out his mystery woman's identity. There had to be a way to smoke her out. How did she always know when he was in trouble? Was she psychic? Did the dispatcher tell her? Maybe she listened to the police radio. If she were a cop, she'd be tuned in to the radio all the time.
But if she were a cop, she would have been in uniform the second time she saved his neck. There had been no police Halloween party that night. At least, not one he'd been invited to. Maybe she'd been on her way home from a private party? So, how had she heard that he needed help? She'd been on a civilian motorcycle.
The more he tried to figure out the mystery, the more questions he had, and still no answers.
So how could he smoke her out? He leaned back in his chair, tapping his chin. Maybe he could stage a setup? If he got the captain's permission, he could have dispatch make a phony call for help. He couldn't do it this evening as he'd made a date with Haley that he didn't want to break, but he could set it up for the following night.
Scraping back his chair, he stood and tapped Brad on the shoulder. "Come with me."
"Where we goin'?" Brad dogged his footsteps. "What scheme's in your little pea brain?"
"I've got an idea I want to try." Cole strode purposefully, eager to set his plan in motion. He thought about asking for the captain's permission, but he didn't want his mystery woman to get in trouble when they revealed her, so he preferred to keep this under wraps. Maybe the dispatcher would help him on the sly.
He draped a casual arm over Sheila's shoulders and crooked his most charming smile.
She smelled of the broccoli, carrots, cauliflower and French onion vegetable dip she chomped on. "What d'ya want?" Photographs of her kids, cats and dogs covered her desk vying for space with her work. A pile of bills spilled haphazardly across the top of the desk.
He bent to eye level and whispered in her ear. "I need a big favor."
She eyed him skeptically. "I know that tone of voice. It won't get me in trouble, will it?" She held up the vegetable platter. "Want some? It's better than that junk food you always fill up on."
He snagged a raw carrot as he eyed Brad for help. When his buddy just shrugged and said nothing, Cole poured on the charm. "Not much trouble. Nothing you can't handle."
He scoured his mind for something Sheila might want from him. "I can fix your car for free next time you need it. Or come over and do some repairs on your house." He could tell she was considering his proposal, and he willed her to help him.
"It's not illegal, is it?" She dipped a piece of cauliflower in the dip and licked it clean.
Brad whistled under his breath, turned away his head, and wrung his hands together behind his back.
"Not really. I'll fix your car and make a house repair." He hoped he wasn't getting himself in over his head. He was a fair mechanic and repairman. As the eldest son in a large family, he'd been called upon to be responsible at an early age.
Sheila popped the white floret in her mouth and pumped his hand enthusiastically. "Done deal! I need new brakes. When do we start?"
He could barely decipher her words through her mouthful of food. Relief flooded him. His plan couldn't fail. "I'll let you know. When's your next evening shift?" He preferred to do his covert operations after dark so his backup could hide in the shadows. He hoped for a moonless night.
"Tomorrow night."
Cole threw a paper wad at Brad to get his attention. It hit him on the back of his neck, so that he whirled, scowling. "Tomorrow night good for you?"
Brad bent to retrieve the wadded-up paper and tossed it in Sheila's trash. He rubbed his neck, still glaring at his partner. "Yeah. If you promise not to do that anymore."
"Tomorrow night it is then." Cole winked at the dispatcher and shoved a broccoli floret into his mouth. He felt much better knowing he had a plan to catch his mystery woman. Soon, he would know her true identity. Anticipation danced along his nerve endings and he couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear.
Haley rushed around getting ready for her date with Cole. The logistics of dressing for dinner and a trip to the batting cages made it difficult to choose an outfit. She finally chose a one-piece, cherry-red culottes outfit that made her skin glow. Belting it, she emphasized her tiny waist. Posing in front of her floor-to-ceiling mirror, turning forward, then sideways, she decided she looked sporty, but chic. She was one sexy mama!
Would the night end in more hot, delirious sex!
Whew! She was as delirious as the sex and she shivered deliciously.
Just in case he got snoopy and suspected her of being his rescuer, she bundled up the Catwoman costume and brunette wig, and hid them underneath her mattress. She didn't think he suspected her, but then again, it could be the reason he had invited her out tonight.
Knocking on the door made her jump and she sucked in her breath. Schooling her expression into one of amiability and greeting, she crossed her heart and hoped she wouldn't make a fool of herself. She'd only dreamed of this moment for years.
God, he looked sexy when he grinned, his chin dimpling and crinkles fanning out at the corners of his eyes. Her knees almost gave out and she quivered with wanton lust. Her blood positively simmered.
His gaze went south of her face, zeroing in on her breasts, and then dipped further to her waist. He let out a long, low, sexy whistle. "Unless you lost three or four dress sizes in an hour, you've been holding out on us."
"I didn't hide anything." She quivered and tried to shrug nonchalantly, simultaneously feeling insulted and complimented. She let him into her humble apartment decorated---or rather undecorated---with mismatched furniture she'd been given by family and friends, or picked up at thrift shops and garage sales. "I can't help it if people assume I'm larger than I am."
He leaned against the wall, blocking her exit, and stared deeply into her eyes. "Assume nothing. You wear shapeless, unflattering clothes to work. How are we to know you've been hiding a dynamite figure? What else have you been hiding? And why?"
The expression in his eyes stole her breath. So he thought she had a sexy figure? Or did he suspect more? Maybe he was merely teasing? She couldn't tell, and didn't want to commit the sin of assuming one way or the other. So she chose her next words carefully. "Whatever would I be hiding?"
She scooped up her softball glove, slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for the door chuckling dryly. "You sure you want to teach me to bat? You gotta be a masochist."
Cole's grin turned lopsided and his eyebrows danced. He held the door wide. "I enjoy a good challenge."
She laughed lightly, gliding past him, curls bouncing carefree around her cheeks. "There's challenges, and there's challenges."
"Which one are you?" He followed so closely behind her, his hot breath licked her neck and sent flames rasping down her spine straight to her pussy.
Turning toward him, she favored him with a steady grin. "I'm a challenge." When her lips almost collided with his, she wished she hadn't turned. It would only take two inches, just a tiny little misstep, and her lips would be in heaven. She could trip accidentally on purpose, couldn't she? So what if it was a feminine wile? She was on fire now and could barely think straight.
She tried to get up the courage, but couldn't, and told herself she should be drummed out of Femme Fatales-R-Us. Maybe if she were in her disguise, she could find the nerve. The thought rolled around in her head as she stepped out into the early evening light. What if she tracked him down off duty one night when no one had a gun to his head?
The idea had merit.
"Lobster or lobster?" He helped her into his car, which she noted with horror, was parked only two spaces away from Sher's motorcycle. Had he noticed it? Would it occur to him that it could be the same motorcycle his costumed crusader had ridden? Nervous, she bit her bottom lip and dug her fingernails into her palm.
Playing devil's advocate, she asked, "What if I don't like lobster?"
"Everybody loves lobster." He turned his head, smiling at her just as they drove past the motorcycle.
His expression didn't falter, so he must not have noticed it. Forcing herself to breathe normally, she turned in her seat, resting her chin on her arm as she drank in her fill of him and breathed in his wonderful scent---spearmint and Old Spice---letting it wrap around her. "Nah-uh. Not everyone likes lobster. Some people are allergic to seafood or plain dislike it. They think lobsters look like giant bugs."
Obviously a frustrated actor, he gave an exaggerated shudder. "Now that's an appetizing thought. So, you don't like lobster? You'd rather eat a cow?"
Deciding she'd given him enough of a hard time, she confessed, "I love lobster." But if they went for lobster now, they'd lose all their daylight and not have time to practice batting. And she really wanted to feel his arms around her and his breath on her neck again. She squinted at the still bright sun. "But there's not enough time. We can grab a sandwich on the way, and I'll be fine."
"Ah, but the batting cages are lit. They're open late." He stopped at a red light. "Moonlit softball is very romantic and I do my best work on a full stomach." He turned north onto State Road Seven toward Pompano and Tradewinds Park.
His best work?
She trembled deliciously, eager to get to work.
They passed the old, burned-down Army-Navy building, and what seemed like miles upon miles of strip malls, each boasting either a Thai or Chinese restaurant, and probably more thrift stores per square mile than in the rest of the U.S. combined. Everything blurred for she only had eyes for Cole. He slowed and turned into a well-known seafood restaurant.
Soon they were seated at a secluded table for two, with romantic music washing over them. "Can I get you anything to wet your whistle? Margaritas are twofers all night for the ladies." A matronly waitress with bleached blonde hair and at least eight ear studs in each earlobe handed menus to them and poised her pen over her order pad.
"Just a soda for me." Cole's glance never once flickered toward the beer and liquor list.
"Diet soda, please." Haley looked askance at Cole, figuring him for a macho, beer-guzzling sort of guy.
"Why the look of surprise?" His knee bumped hers under the narrow table.
Or had he deliberately touched her? Her voice came out low and husky. "Well, most cops I know need a beer or two after a grueling day on the job. I expected you to be the same."
"I don't drink." He leaned back in his seat and slumped a little. A haunted light crept into his eyes, darkening them as he stared off into the distance. Just when she thought they were going to dine in silence, he murmured, "My best buddy in high school died because of alcohol."
Pity flooded her and she laid a consoling hand atop his. "How awful! I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. I had no idea."
He turned his hand over and captured hers, squeezing it. "We were underage and we convinced his older brother to buy us a six-pack. We got smashed out of our skulls, and then he plowed into a semi on the way home."
Horrified, she gasped, pain slicing through her. "I'm so very sorry, Cole! That must've been terrible for you."
"It was." He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, mesmerizing her. "But it's what made me decide to become a cop."
The waitress dropped off their sodas and a basket of warm rolls, and took their orders. Then she limped away, her gait just slightly rollicking, as if she had swollen feet or arthritic knees.
Haley gazed deeply into her companion's eyes, trying to delve into his soul. "If you hadn't always wanted to be a cop, what did you want to be before?"
A sexy grin tugged at his lips and he traced the rim of his glass with his fingertip, staring into the bubbly, dark brown liquid. "Can't you guess?"
She studied him, realizing she knew next to nothing about him. "An astronaut?" she hazarded. When a look of horror flashed into his eyes, she took a wild, deliberately off-kilter guess. "A brain surgeon?"
He laughed, a very deep, masculine laugh. "Strike two. One more strike and you're out."
Delighted, inspiration struck her, and she snapped her fingers in front of his nose, victory in her voice. "I know! You wanted to be a professional baseball player." Parched after her mental workout, she sipped her drink, the ice clinking in the glass.
The waitress slid their salads onto the table silently, a monstrous crouton tumbling off Cole's plate. "You folks doin' okay?"
"Fine, thank you." Haley stabbed a chunk of lettuce with her fork and lifted it to her mouth. The tangy ranch dressing tickled her nose and tantalized her tongue.
"Bingo!" Cole's grin spread from ear to ear. His fork clanked on the plate as he tried to spear a crouton and splintered it.
Haley wrinkled her nose at him. "But what were you going to do if you didn't make it? Or after you grew up?" She'd have bought season tickets to watch him play. She would have been his biggest fan.
"Gone into the family business, probably." He didn't offer any further insight.
Curious as to why he didn't sound particularly thrilled with the edict, she was about ready to pull the information out of him. "Which is...?"
Suddenly, he became extremely interested in his salad, his head bent over it. He mumbled something unintelligible.
She leaned forward and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I didn't catch that."
He muttered a little louder, but she still couldn't decipher his words. Was she going deaf as well as blind?
A young waiter carried a huge tray to their table, balancing it on the flat of one hand over his shoulder. He wore his night-black hair in a ponytail and one white shirttail had pulled out of his slacks. He lowered the tray to a stand their waitress opened and bussed their dirty dishes as she served their lobster entrees and replaced the now cold basket of rolls with a fresh hot one.
Scents of garlic, butter, and lobster almost made Haley swoon with pleasure. The food still sizzled and a curl of steam wafted up.
"Be careful. Those plates are burning hot." The older woman eyed Cole's almost empty glass and confiscated it. "I'll bring you another soda. Can I get you anything else?"
"Another soda'll be great." Cole dazzled both Haley and the waitress with a huge smile. Mischief lit his eyes as he kissed his joined thumb and fingers with an Italian flourish. "Umm, delicious. Bugs." He picked up his knife and fork and cut into the juicy white meat.
"Gross!" She scooted back from her giant bug, grimacing, watching him enjoy his dinner.
He lifted a brow at her and pointed his fork at her food. "You'd better eat. Hot bug is much better than cold bug." He emphasized the word "bug" as if he gained immense satisfaction from it.
Trying to ignore her loudly growling stomach, she swatted at his hand. "Stop that!"
"What'd I do?" His eyes widened too innocently. "Say 'bug'?"
"Yes!" she hissed, ready to brain him for his male insensitivity and deliberately grossing her out.
He chuckled as he stuffed another bite of lobster in his mouth. "I'm just repeating your description. Remember?" His singsong voice grated on her nerves.
"Oh," she murmured, kicking her own booty. Grumbling under her breath, she added, "Now you hang on my every word."
"What was that?" Cole leaned toward her, and cut her lobster, his utensils clicking together.
"Nothing." Yikes! Her big mouth was going to get her into serious trouble one day. She had to be way more careful. His question reminded her that she still hadn't heard the answer to her last question. "So, what does your family do?"
He fed her a succulent lobster morsel drenched in melted butter, his illegally seductive gaze glued on her lips. "It's good, isn't it?"
She quivered uncontrollably and her eyes closed in ecstasy as the seafood melted in her mouth. Another piece tantalized her lips, seducing them to part. She could get used to his company. "Wonderful bug," she said in a dreamy, sultry voice.
"My dad's the toilet king of Minneapolis."
Huh? She clamped her jaw so it wouldn't drop open. She really was going deaf. He couldn't have said what she just thought he had said. "Excuse me?"
Cole grimaced as an angry red blush stole into his cheeks. "He's the toilet king," he pronounced very succinctly. "We manufacture toilet bowls."
An irreverent picture popped into Haley's head of a crowned Cole sitting atop a commode, a plunger in his hand instead of a scepter. "I guess that makes you the toilet prince."
A stormy scowl spread over his face. "If you breathe a word about this to anyone, I'll..."
"You'll what?" Mirth exploded in her which she couldn't contain another second. "Flush me down one of your toilets?" She laughed so hard, she had to hold her stomach and the table shook, rattling the dishes.
Cole ignored her until she stopped. "I'm never telling another living soul." He speared a big chunk of lobster and crammed it in his mouth ferociously. Then he lifted his piercing gaze to hers. "Was your life ambition to be a secretary?"
She shook her head. "No. I always knew I wanted to be a c---" She cut herself off, horrified she'd almost made a lethal slip. If he knew she had police training or even suspected, it wouldn't take him long to extrapolate who her alter ego was.
Oh, God! What other professions started with the hard "k" sound? Her mind drew a blank. Kangaroo trainer? Car salesman? Kite designer? She latched on to the first halfway plausible one that came to mind. "Cat doctor. I-I mean veterinarian." She almost choked on her brazen lie.
He finished off his lobster and baked potato, and then pushed away his plate. Wadding up his napkin, he tossed it on top of the plate. "So, how'd you go from veterinarian to secretary?"
She chewed slowly, trying to come up with a logical answer. "Well, I, uh, couldn't stand the sight of blood. And I couldn't afford the monstrous tuition. Veterinary college is very expensive."
"Check, please," he called to their server, waving his arm over his head.
Whew! He seemed to have bought her blatant lies. Relief flowed through her. She'd almost crucified herself. She'd have to weigh every word out of her mouth when she was around him.
\*
"Would you become a pro ballplayer if someone offered it to you?" Haley watched him closely, as he negotiated traffic.
"That's a toughie," he finally said. "I'm over thirty now, so there's no chance anyway...but if there were, I think I'd stay right where I'm at."
"Why?" She wanted to know what made this man who he was, and this could be her only chance. The final thought plummeted her into sadness.
He rubbed at his stubble-coated chin. "Guess cop fever's in my blood now. I like making a difference in the world. Helping the innocent and putting away the bad guys."
Commiserating, she nodded. "I know." The minute the words escaped, she knew she'd goofed. She tried to cover her slipup. "I-I've heard a lot of the officers say the same thing. I guess it's like being a modern-day white knight."
He turned the car onto Sample Road, a wide, straight boulevard lined with lazily swaying palm trees. The park's floodlights could be seen from at least a mile down the road. The sign at the park entrance announced that Butterfly World and the batting cages were to the south of Sample Road, and the stables and main picnic area lay to the north. She had been meaning to check out Butterfly World, but to date, she had only visited Tradewinds to see the big Christmas light display. She usually didn't come this far north. There were plenty of parks and things to do in her neighborhood.
Bright artificial light made it impossible to see the moonlight and disappointment assailed her. So much for romance under the stars.
Men from fifteen to sixty, wearing baseball caps of their favorite teams filled most of the cages. The only other woman tapped her bat against each foot, knocking off red clay from her cleats.
Cole rested his hand in the small of her back as they entered a batting cage labeled "slow pitch". "Were you ever on a team as a kid?"
She thought back to the miserable summer she'd given softball a go and grimaced. The coach had benched her almost every inning so she hadn't seen much point in wasting her time. "Only one season."
"Do you know how to hold the bat properly?" He wound his arms around her and placed her hands on the bat's thin neck.
Even if she had been an expert hitter, she'd lie through her teeth to stay in his arms. She shook her head and nibbled her lower lip. "Not really. I watch what the other players do and swing hard."
Cole murmured huskily against her ear, his breath warm. "It's not always about length and power but technique."
Oh God! He hadn't just said that. She had to be hallucinating. Sexy men never came on to her like this, not even in teasing.
Squirming, she wrapped her fingers tighter around the poor bat. No scintillating retort popping to her lips, she gulped and nodded.
"No worries. You'll be hitting home runs by our second lesson."
Second lesson? She hadn't frightened him off? Tingles raced down her spine to her toes and she longed to sink back against him. To hell with the bat.
First, she had to survive this lesson fraught with his merciless teasing. "Can I hold you to that?"
"I'll put it in writing, darlin'."
Wishing she'd worn a cap more to hide the telltale heat rising in her cheeks than to block out the blinding light, Haley squinted and choked up on the bat as she tried to keep an eye on the green light that would signal when a ball was about to come hurtling at her. "You sure this thing won't hurl a million balls at once? Or zing a ninety mile per hour heater?"
Cole chuckled. "I guarantee it but if it does, I'll protect you. Now ease off a little. Relax." He reached around her to move her hands. In so doing, he pressed up against her behind.
Cripes! How did he expect her to breathe, much less think straight? Gulping, she nodded, not trusting her voice.
Too soon, he moved away so she could swing. Although the night breeze caressing her skin was balmy, she shivered. "Are they going to rifle out at me?"
"This is the slow-pitch cage. I set it to start slow at forty miles per hour. If you get the hang of this, then we'll increase the ball's speed."
That didn't sound too bad. "Okay." She gritted her teeth, her gaze glued to the mechanical arm. "Let 'em rip."
To her chagrin, she missed most of the first set of pitches. "What am I doing wrong?" The game shouldn't be this difficult. All Americans adored it. Her dad, an artist in his spare time, was a very atypical cop. Instead of playing ball with her when she was growing up, he'd taught her to draw cartoon characters.
"You're still too stiff and jerky. Your swing needs to flow. The bat's just an extension of your body. Hold your fingers this way." He wrapped strong arms around her and helped her hit a few balls. "See?"
His raspy breath tickled her neck, as the rest of her smoldered in his embrace. "Like a pen. Or a g---" Gun, she'd almost said, and once again stopped just in time.
"Like what?" A quizzical look filled eyes that bore into her from no more than three inches away.
"My dad's an artist, and I am too, of sorts. I do a little sketching. You said," she interrupted her rambling to inhale, and then continued, "the bat should be an extension of my arm, and I meant just like my pen when I'm drawing."
"What d'ya draw?"
"Cartoons mainly. Caricatures."
The intensity of his gaze sharpened. "Like Batman?"
Oh, no! Had she caught herself up in a web of deceit, after all? Did he suspect her of being Catwoman? After all, she had always wondered how stupid or how blind Lois Lane really was for not recognizing Superman just because he wore glasses as Clark Kent. Wasn't this the same difference? Almost, anyway. At least her hair was also very different, especially styled short, sassy, and curled.
She pretended to watch the mechanical arm. "I dabble with all the old favorite cartoons, and even a little Japanese anime, like Sailor Moon and Dragon Ball Z."
She waited for him to either ask what that was, or name off his favorite anime characters.
Instead, he asked, "Can I come up and see your sketches when we get back?" His sultry voice made her knees weak and wobbly, and if not for his supporting arms, she would have sunk onto the ground at his feet.
He turned her around, captured her chin in his fingers and gazed deeply into her eyes. Passion blazed as his lips descended on hers, first soft and tentative, and then growing bolder.
The bat slipped from her fingers as they ached to caress his neck, to feel the rippling muscles in his shoulders. It clanged on the ground, almost drowned out by the rushing waterfall in her ears. Parting her lips, she greeted his tongue eagerly, mating hers with it. Her pussy tingled and forgetting where she was, she arched her hips against his swelling groin.
Feverish for him, her flesh as hypersensitive to his unintentional caresses as it had been that first night when his lips had plundered hers, she jumped when a little boy's voice broke through her fogginess.
"Daddy, is he helping her bat?"
A man cleared his throat and, in an embarrassed voice, muttered, "Let's see if there's a cage on the other end."
Mortified, Haley yanked away from Cole, her lips bruised, swollen, and deliciously moist. Some of her buttons had come undone, and she hurriedly fumbled to preserve her modesty, laughing softly.
Cole whistled under his breath and shot her an adorably embarrassed smile. Once they moved, his gaze smoldered down into hers. His thumbs grazed the line of her jaw. "I'd still really like to see your sketches."
Mama mia! She knew what he really wanted to see, and it had nothing to do with her sketches. Although her body was past ready, her mind wasn't and she suspected his wasn't either. As long as he was still fascinated by her alter ego, he couldn't truly be falling for her, could he? She had to test him. Besides, she'd hidden the costume under the mattress thinking it a brilliant move. "That's clichéd even for you, Fischer."
He caught her chin again and lifted her face toward him. Puzzlement flickered in his eyes as he turned her face first one way, and then the other. "You know, you remind me of someone, but I can't figure out who."
Nervous laughter bubbled to her lips, but she swallowed it. With superhuman determination, she forced herself to breathe steadily. She couldn't stop her toes from twitching, though, or her stomach from clenching painfully. "I've got one of those average faces everyone thinks they've seen."
His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "I don't think so. You're really stunning."
Her heart leapt for joy and her blood sizzled. "You're not half bad yourself."
He reached for her glasses. "What color are your eyes? I bet you'd be positively gorgeous if you traded in those big frames that hide half your face for contact lenses."
Fear flared through her and she caught his hand, stopping it. "Don't. I'm practically blind without them."
His breath fanned her face. "So, what color are they under those tinted lenses? Brown, like milk chocolate? Or green, like an emerald?"
"They're blue, like bluebonnets. Like I said, I'm just your typical blue-eyed blonde." Maybe if she'd become a cop, she wouldn't be so ordinary. She would be thrilling and intriguing, daring and adventurous. She swallowed a sigh. Instead, she was an ordinary, run-of-the-mill, almost blind working girl; she was so pink collar. Some days she thought she would die of boredom. Manipulating spreadsheets and macros put her to sleep. Her fingers itched to pull triggers, not dance atop keyboards. The only risks she faced day-to-day were in contracting carpal tunnel syndrome or a run in her pantyhose.
"You've worn glasses all your life?" His thumb caressed her bottom lip until it trembled.
Or maybe she trembled because he unwittingly brought the trauma of her life to the surface. Any mention of her eyes or vision cast her into the depths of misery. "N-no." Her fingernails dug into her palms as she strived to keep her voice steady and unemotional. "I suffered a head injury almost four years ago. The optic nerves were permanently damaged." She tried to turn away.
"An accident?" His fingers tightened around her, refusing to let her leave.
She nodded, unwilling to elaborate. Reliving it in her mind was bad enough without repeating it aloud. "It could've been worse. I'm lucky I wasn't brain-damaged or one hundred percent blind." She had to get him off this subject before she slipped and incriminated herself. "Let's practice some more."
Cole glanced at his watch and shook his head. "Time's up. They're going to turn out the lights momentarily." He retrieved the bat and then linked his fingers through hers. "Don't worry. We'll come again."
Warm feelings stirred inside her. He wanted to spend more time with her. Or maybe she just really stunk at softball and he'd do anything to help their team win. Surely, he hadn't had to kiss her or buy her lobster just to teach her how to play softball.
Giddy, shivering from his touch, she practically floated beside him, her step bouncy, her hand squeezing his as their arms swung to-and-fro. She'd never felt so feminine or dainty as she did beside him. She'd never been so aware of a man or of herself. Higher than the clouds, she decided she must be in heaven.
He led her to a nearby canal that bordered the playing field and paused where lights from the apartments across the way danced over the smooth surface. Tall reeds and saw grass bobbed on the water's edge. Palm trees cast dark shadows over the murky water. A frog croaked nearby, while further away, the hum of traffic from Sample and Lyons Roads kept the night from being too quiet.
Cole placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. "Beautiful," he murmured, gazing at her.
Not sure if he meant her or the view, she said as she quivered. "It's lovely out here."
"Warm, sultry nights like this are why I came to Florida." He drew her inescapably closer, his dark gaze hypnotizing her.
Her hands ached to touch him and she longed to know if his heart beat half as erratically as hers. "Paradise," she agreed, unbuttoning two buttons and sliding her trembling hand over his heart. Her fingers sifted through silky, curly hair, delighting her. When her fingertip grazed his nipple, he shuddered and sucked in his breath, and she nearly swooned. She was immensely pleased that his nipple tightened beneath her touch and that his heart galloped at breakneck speed.
This man never failed to send her senses reeling, to make her lose her mind with crazy, intense desire. Just like their first clandestine time, she couldn't deny the driving need to press close to him, to be with him. And like the first time, she could no more reveal her face than her burning love.
He moaned and leaned his forehead against hers. His fingers trailed blazing fire down her throat to the swell of her breasts. "Any chance I can return the favor?" His fingers slipped further inside, pushing under her lacy bra.
She hadn't realized what fire she played with or what a storm she could unleash in either him or herself. Incredible moist heat flooded her, making her clothing unbearable. Wanton, erotic desires pulsed through her, and she yearned to feel his nipples pressed to hers, to again free the hard ridge in his jeans and feel it penetrate her. She rubbed against him, pressing her lips to his chest, tasting his salty, musky flavor. Oh, God! She wanted to show him her sketches so desperately she panted with lust. No other man had ever had this effect on her, and they were still fully clothed.
Several moments later, a flashlight beam spotlighted them. "Park's closed for the night, folks. Move it out!"
Haley blinked. If not for the apartment lights and the headlights of exiting cars, it'd be black as the Everglades.
Cole cursed under his breath as he clasped her elbow in his fingers and guided her to his car. He lowered several spine-tingling kisses to her hair, cheeks, and lips, as they sauntered back.
All the way home, she warred with herself whether or not to invite him inside. She could make an excuse to go into her bedroom alone first, lock the door, and move the costume. Maybe she should even show it to him and confess her secret identity. She'd have to sooner or later, right?
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, debating if she should tell him tonight or wait. Maybe he'd get a big kick out of the discovery. Or maybe he'd hate her for lying to him. Besides, she wanted to know if he was still fascinated with the other woman...other woman?
Now she was calling herself the "other woman". Soon she'd be calling herself Sybil and Peggy and never know who she was. She'd steal Sher's wigs and be a redhead one day, a raven-haired beauty the next, and Lady Godiva the day after. She'd kiss reality goodbye.
She had to get a grip and fast.
"You okay?" Cole stared in alarm.
To her horror, she realized she was gripping her head in her hands and rolling it. Straightening, she dropped her hands to her lap, smoothed her culottes over her legs, and tried to smile. "My eyes ache. They still throb sometimes." It was a lame excuse, but the only one she could think of. It also gave her an out from inviting him upstairs.
"Do you need to go to the emergency room?" Concern tinged his voice.
Guilt washed over her. "Oh, no, no, no! It's not that severe. I have some pain reliever in the medicine cabinet. I'll be fine once I pop a couple of tablets and lie down."
Since all the parking spaces were full, he pulled in front of her door and cut the engine.
When he started to get out, she panicked. "I'll be fine. No need to torture ourselves since I'm too ill to do anything."
"You sure?" His fingers skipped up her arm, sending jolts of electricity through her, torturing her with wanton desires.
She'd never been more uncertain in her life. "No." A remorseful tone shaded her voice as she backed out of the car and closed the door, fluttering her fingers. The breeze whipped her hair into her face and played with her culottes. Rueful, disgusted with herself, she wiped a strand of hair out of her mouth.
Cole waited, watchful and diligent, as she entered her building safely.
She peeked out the hallway window and watched his car until it disappeared around the corner.
Frustrated as hell, his cock straining against his pants, Cole couldn't settle down. He couldn't watch television. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't even get interested in the computer.
A cold shower took the edge off his pain, yet he prowled around his apartment feeling less like sleeping than ever before in his life.
Thoughts of Haley and Catwoman tortured him. Was he so fickle that two women fascinated him simultaneously? Two women couldn't be more different.
Swearing, he punched the couch and scared Merlin, his old scruffy tomcat, out of the room and under his bed. "Sorry, guy," he mumbled. "You're a tomcat. You must know how to juggle women without feeling guilty or confused." If only he knew his Catwoman's true identity. For all he knew, he might never see her again. The boys downtown might come up with nothing new. His trap might be a dismal failure.
What if he saw her again and was still fascinated? Would that be worse? Thousands of thoughts pounded in his brain. Confused emotions throbbed through him.
Outside, an engine revved. A motorcycle engine.
He froze, his ears perked, his heart racing, his cock flexing. Could it be Catwoman? The thought was farfetched, and yet this whole episode had been mind-boggling. He rushed to the balcony and looked over the railing.
Catwoman revved her engines, staring up at him. Shadows danced across her masked face and the wind toyed with her luscious auburn locks.
"Wait!" His blood pumping furiously, he slammed out his door and pounded down his stairs, two and three at a time, scared she would disappear before he could get to her. Wheezing, he slowed when he reached the front door. Not wishing to scare her away, he approached her cautiously.
She didn't utter a syllable but patted the seat behind her seductively, and then crooked her finger.
He gulped. He'd never seen such a sexy, tempting finger in all his life. His groin hardened unbearably at the thought of riding behind her, grinding against those firm gorgeous buttocks so alluringly delineated in spandex. If he didn't get his thoughts under tight rein quickly, he would make a fool of himself.
A come-hither smile played about her lips, but still she said nothing. Temptation danced in her eyes.
He couldn't stop himself from sliding on the motorcycle behind her and bracing himself for the ride of his life. There was only one thing he yearned to have between his legs more desperately...
The minx captured his hands and dragged them around her tiny waist. He could feel her purring, drugging his mind and body.
When she shifted her weight, he had to bite back a groan as his cock flexed. What exquisite torture. He throbbed against her, his jeans so tight they would surely burst. When she hit a pothole, his arms brushed the under slope of her full, round breasts, and he closed his eyes in ecstasy. What he wouldn't give to feel her bare flesh, to sink into her hot pussy and lose himself forever. He'd been robbed of that pleasure their first time, of pleasuring her, but he'd make it up to her tonight.
If not for the wind cooling him, he would surely combust he was so feverish. Did she know how feverish she made him? How insanely wild she drove him?
He wondered where she was taking him. If she planned to stop or just give him a ride and take him home?
The bike roared onto the highway and opened up. If he'd been on duty, he'd have had to write her a ticket for speeding. The speedometer topped eighty miles per hour, yet she handled the bike like a pro. He wondered if she could handle his unleashed power as well.
Finally, she turned off the highway, stopped in a small, dark park with a closed gate, and cut the engine. Turning in his arms, she snuggled against him, winding her arms around his neck.
"Who are you?" He scrutinized her masked face and a jolt of shock pierced him. She looked a lot like Haley. But she had chocolate brown eyes, not blue. Not to mention the fact she had long, straight, rich mahogany hair.
A Mona Lisa smile curved her luscious lips and she shook her head slowly. She touched her finger to her lips. Then she jabbed her chest with her finger and shook her head again.
He moaned. Great! She wanted to play charades. He hated charades. Worse, she had no intention of talking.
Cole crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, gazing at his costumed adventuress. Clouds drifted in front of the moon so that her masked face lay in shadow. Exquisite. Absolutely exquisite. Her aura of mystery excited him. Yet, not knowing her name or anything else about her irked him, also. "It's not fair that you know where I live and work, and I don't even know your name."
She just shrugged coquettishly, and lifted her lips to his, trying to seduce him. She raked her fingernails lightly down his arm. Catwoman indeed!
He tried to resist her charms, tried to keep his lips detached, using them as collateral so she'd tell him her name. But the scent of her, some exotic blend of flowers he couldn't name, seduced him. Her lips teased his, so soft and gentle, warm and alluring beneath his. Before he knew it, his traitorous lips responded, molding to hers as he crushed her to him.
Like a willow, supple and strong, she bent to him. Her heat seeped into him, fanning his ardor. Her kisses were so buttery sweet, he moaned into her mouth and lost himself in her as he had that first fateful night. Then, as now, her lips intoxicated him and the memory of their first encounter seared him.
The siren had been a fever in his blood, and God help him, he wasn't invincible from her many charms. Yet he honestly couldn't decide whose kisses were sweeter, whose moved him more---this mysterious nymph's or Haley's. Both beat sugar hands down. Both sent him into orbit. Both made his blood boil.
Her fingers massaged his head, driving all thought from his mind. Primordial instinct ruled his senses as he broke away for air, but immediately nuzzled her neck and trailed fiery kisses lower and lower toward hidden treasure.
\*
Cole drank deeply of Haley's lips as her world spun dizzily. If she wasn't very careful, she'd fall flat on her ass and her fragile world could shatter.
Everything was racing out of control, getting screwed up until she could barely remember who she was, Catwoman or Haley, Superwoman or super psycho. If he found out her true identity, she'd be super out of a job, if not up on criminal charges.
Was this charade worth her future?
When Cole's kiss deepened and his hungry hands roamed her breasts, "yes!" resounded in her heart. Nestling against his hammering heart, she became lost in the incredibly lusty sensations whipping through her.
"You're so exciting, so mysterious." Cole traced her jaw line with his sensual thumbs. His fingers moved up to her mask and traced its rim. "May I take this off? Gaze upon your face?" Pure unadulterated lust quaked in his voice and his jeans stretched tight across his cock as he rubbed against her seductively.
Panic flooded her and she jerked back. She opened her mouth to shout "No!" but at the last second, she strangled it back.
Was she suicidal?
No!
Remembering her dangerous game, she wagged her finger. "Tsk-tsk."
"Why not?" He drew her back to him and slashed a tender kiss over her lips as his hands kneaded her waist.
Unwilling to get drawn into any conversation with him much less this one, ravenous hunger consumed her and she shook her head.
"You know how incredibly hot you are? How unbelievable? I can't stop thinking about the Halloween Party... Everyone thinks I'm dreaming you up. Am I?"
She was the one who was dreaming. Cradling his beloved face in her hands, she shook her head, cursing this impossible situation in which she'd placed herself.
She couldn't keep doing this. It had to end tonight before her heart broke irreparably in two.
But if she was going to roar away on her cycle, she wanted to take at least one sweet memory with her. Leading him to a secluded jasmine-fragranced gazebo, she lay back on a wooden bench and held out her arms in unmistakable invitation.
A mischievous grin curled his lips as he took her in his arms and plundered her lips. His hand cupped her breast and his fingers tweaked her nipple.
On fire, eager to be totally consumed by his heat, she snaked her arms around his neck and pressed closer against him. Her tongue dueled with his and she stroked his thigh with hers, eager to know him more intimately.
Out of breath, raw with hunger, she gasped for air. She trailed her fingers down his muscular back, to his thigh, around to his straining cock and unbuttoned his pants. Without the aid of words, she would have to be as brazen as she was at the party, but as he would never find out her true identity, what did it matter if he thought her a shameless hussy? As long as he remembered her fondly and forever.
She'd never forget him for as long as she lived.
"Ooh, babe! What an eager little vixen you are."
Nodding, she smiled seductively, and traced her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. To prove his point and make sure they were on the same wavelength, she pushed his pants lower and released his mouthwatering cock. Then she unzipped her body suit and shimmied out of it.
Accepting her invitation, he unsnapped her bra and buried his face between her breasts. First, he laved one aching, tingling nipple, then flicked his tongue over to its twin.
Moaning, she pushed her breast as deeply into his mouth as she could, straining her back. More turned on than she'd ever been, she wrapped her fingers around his cock and gently caressed its velvety-hard length.
He joined her in moaning and shoved her panties down her thighs. Lifting his head, he gazed into her eyes with his passion-glazed ones. "You sure you want to do this? Here?"
Hell yeah! He'd left her frustrated their first night. She couldn't take that again.
She'd never been surer of anything in her life. This night, this man was the culmination of her most treasured fantasies, of her most dearly held dreams. She nodded fervently, spread her legs as wide as she could, and tugged his impressive cock to her pussy.
"You won't be sorry, baby," he murmured against her lips. He paused and took something out of his wallet.
"What are you doing?" She snuggled against him, anxious to know his possession, her motor running so fast she had trouble putting it into reverse.
"Just...protecting...you...babe."
"Oh." Good thing one of them could still think clearly.
Finally, when his condom was in place, he drove into her with a ravenous hunger.
Little did he know about being sorry. Most definitely she'd be sorry! Sorry that she succumbed to such mad desire. Sorry that she could never give in to such wonderful passion again. Sorry that she couldn't tell him who she was without fear of reprisal.
She did her best to hide the ruefulness of her mood, and injected sunshine into her smile as she matched his primitive, rollicking rhythm. His cock filled her to overflowing and felt so fantastic that she longed to tell him how great he made her feel, but of course she had to bite back her praise.
Bitter about her predicament, she knew she would experience even more joy if there were no secrets between them, no masks, no pretenses, and if he desired her for who she truly was. Unfortunately, Haley wasn't exciting like Catwoman and she had to live with that for the rest of her days. He didn't. He could treasure the dream and live out his fantasy.
At least one of them could.
She forced her mind back to the exquisite pleasure of their tryst, and lost herself in the mind-numbing sensations rippling through her with every mind-blowing thrust. Quivering with lust, bliss building, her pussy trembled. No man had ever made her feel so feminine, so alive, so absolutely wonderful as Cole. She never wanted this night to end.
Gunshots ripped apart the serene night. Angry, ugly shouts intruded into their private world, yanking her back to grim reality.
Freezing inside her, he lifted his head and inclined his ear. "D'ya hear that?"
She nodded, her back stiffening, her shoulders squaring, and her head tilting toward the sounds. Lifting her arm, she regretfully pointed in the direction of the shots.
"Sorry, babe. We have to check it out. That's the lot of a cop."
To hell with a cop's life! She didn't want to release him, particularly not while hovering on the brink of ecstasy. Maybe she wasn't cut out to be a cop---or a cop's woman.
He pulled out, leaving her bereft and aching with raw need. Holding out a hand, he helped her up and tossed her clothes to her. "Better get dressed in a hurry before anyone stumbles upon us."
Biting back a scathing retort, she yanked on her garb and zipped it up as he did the same.
She dashed to the motorcycle and revved it to life. The bike rumbled beneath her as he jumped on behind, grabbed her around the waist, and shouted into her ear. "That's our invitation to leave."
The woman scowled and jerked a finger toward the sound.
"No! You could get hit by a stray bullet. Take me back to my car."
With a tight-lipped expression, she nodded.
Okay, so she was mad. Better than dead.
The monster roared, jerking him forward, and he held on to her middle tightly. When she turned the cycle toward the gunfire, he swore. "Turn around. You can't keep getting in the middle of police action."
The hardheaded woman ignored him as if the wind whipped away his words.
Sirens raised the level of the cacophony, adding to the confusion of the night.
He wanted to shake her and wondered why she kept putting herself in harm's way. "I can't put a civilian in danger. I don't want you hurt."
But she rounded a corner where a crowd formed around a young woman, who trembled and wailed. There was no sign of a gunman, and the crowd hovering around her assured him the danger had passed. The shooter must've fled the scene of the crime when witnesses appeared and he breathed a sigh of relief. Still, he wished he'd brought his police identification. He clambered off the cycle and walked over to the young woman. Since he was here, he had to help.
Bystanders looked askance at them.
"I'm a policeman," Cole said in his most authoritative voice, hoping no one would question him. Again, he cursed himself for his foolishness in rushing out of the house without any ID, as he shouldered his way through the crowd.
As tiny and delicate as she was, the victim still had to be in her teens. She looked up with tears in her huge dark eyes. "My boyfriend thought I was stepping out on him so he came at me with a gun." Her words got more choked up as she spoke, and she paused to swallow. "Please don't let him kill me. I'm a good wife and mama, no matter what he says."
Cole put a comforting arm around the young woman. "Did anyone call the police?" He presumed the sirens he'd heard were on their way here, but in a city of this size, the emergency vehicle could have been going elsewhere. He couldn't afford to assume.
A young pimply faced man wearing a worn and filthy baseball cap waved a cellular phone over his head. "I called 911 soon as I heard the racket. Sounded like someone was dying. The cops should be on their way."
Too late to stop more insanity, Cole nodded. He wished the man hadn't panicked. A single black-and-white could have handled this. But it seemed like a lot of people were panicking, starting with Catwoman. Of course, it was a full moon and the whole town went nuts during that time.
Soon, sirens whirled closer. They almost deafened him until they mercifully cut off.
As soon as the black-and-white's door opened, Cole's mystery woman tossed a saucy, secretive smile at him, waved, and revved her engines. Pebbles, shells, and sand kicked up from under her back tire as the motorcycle peeled out.
"No!" The little escape artist was getting away again. Immediately, he gave chase. His blood pumping faster than his feet, he yelled to his brothers in blue, "Stop that woman on the motorcycle!" As he pointed at her, she sped up a skateboard ramp a kid had left out in his yard. Woman became one with the cycle, leaning low over it, clamping it with her knees, her hair flying behind her. The bike flew into the air, over a high wooden fence, and disappeared into the night, the only evidence Catwoman had been there were her tire tracks and the quickly dissipating roar of the bike's engine. Since she'd disappeared through a backyard, the car couldn't follow her.
He stared at her dust whipping in the wind, wondering if this all had been a dream, and she had merely been a vision. Then he took in his surroundings, noting block upon block of stucco houses that had all the allure of boxes, some painted pink, some yellow, and others gray. Palm and pine trees shaded most yards, although a couple didn't have grass, much less trees or flowers. Not an affluent neighborhood, there were burglar bars on many windows, and cars in various stages of rust dotting the lawns. He was lost as this wasn't a neighborhood he normally frequented, nor was it on his beat.
Trotting back to the officers taking the woman's report, he interrupted. "Hey, guys, think I can catch a lift home?"
When one of the men arched a bushy brow, Cole continued, "I'm an off-duty cop, but I left my wallet at home. I, uh, sort of got stranded by my date." Embarrassed heat crept up his cheeks, which he hoped the blackness of the night hid. He massaged the back of his neck, proverbially kicking himself for trusting his elusive heroine.
"That your date who jumped the fence?" A smile twitched the big cop's full mustache. The guy was so tall, Cole had to look up, a novelty for someone six-feet, two-inches tall. "Man, that lady really must've wanted to ditch you to go to that much trouble."
"Sure looked that way," he agreed, scowling. Would he ever discover her true identity? Why in the hell was she so skittish? Why didn't she want him to know who she was?
He became more determined than ever to track her down.
\*
Confused didn't begin to describe Haley's emotional state the following morning after the night spent with Cole as two different women. Nor did achy begin to describe how sore her rear end was after jumping that fence on Sher's motorcycle.
Although it was torture, she forced herself to go to work in her normal high heels, hose, and starched business attire. Every time her thoughts turned to Cole, she fumed and slammed papers and books around on her desk, so much so that Cindy watched her closely through veiled glances. How dare he cheat with another woman! How dare he kiss her so deeply, so soulfully, then turn around and hop on another woman's motorcycle and kiss her in the park?
Get a grip! She tried to shake some sense into herself. She was jealous of her alter ego! She must be going stark, raving mad. If she didn't watch out, she'd soon be holding conversations with her doppelganger.
Across the room, Cole caught her gaze and winked with his lethal sex appeal. It took everything she possessed not to glare and call him a cheat. She tried to smile, telling herself he hadn't technically cheated on her since he'd been with her all night, even if she'd worn two different hairstyles and two different outfits. She also reminded herself that she'd only had one date with him, and he didn't owe her his loyalty.
Still, he hadn't even waited two hours to kiss another woman after she'd left him, the jerk. Of course, she'd seduced him with her slinky outfit and mysterious ways. If the situation had been reversed, could she have resisted a sexy masculine rider beckoning her to ride with him? Probably not. She should cut him a break---if he even wanted one. The way he'd kissed her second self that night, he'd probably forgotten all about her real self.
Her mind spun dizzily. She had to think about something else before she wound up in the loony bin.
"Hey, Haley." Cole chuckled at his own joke, as he perched on the edge of her desk, hitching up his slacks to reveal an expanse of hairy, powerful leg. He leaned toward her, the male version of a come-hither look in his dark brown eyes, and then he stole her lollipop and licked it. "Something eating you today? You've been over here talking to yourself all morning."
"Give that back!" She dove for it across her desk. "I'll file a robbery report."
Cole moved out of arm's reach and smiled at her defiantly and seductively while he licked her candy. After a few long licks, he handed it back, his smile larger, challenging.
Drat! Now she looked like a fool in front of the whole precinct. Of course, this was Ft. Lauderdale so the more outlandish she was, the better she'd fit in. "No, nothing's bothering me. Whatever could I possibly fret about on this bright, sunny, absolutely perfect South Florida morning?" Furious, crazed with jealousy, she tossed the sucker into the trashcan under her desk, and then slammed another sheaf of papers on her desk, knocking the plate of cookies over the edge.
Cole dove for the plate, rescuing it in the nick of time. He placed it gently in the center of her desk and took a cookie to nibble. "Whoa! Why the hostility? Did I do something?" He spoke through a mouthful of cookie crumbs. Some crumbs stuck to his lips, drawing her gaze.
She well remembered how they were responsible for bruising her tender, swollen ones. The wide-eyed innocent look he bestowed threatened to topple her hard-won resolve.
Her traitorous lips throbbed under his smoldering scrutiny, and she could almost taste the memory of his heart-stopping kisses. "No," she snapped. Of course, she couldn't admit to knowing he'd gone out with another woman after he'd dropped her at home. Either he'd know she was the mystery woman, or he'd think she'd been spying on him. Neither answer was likely to endear her to him. How could she extricate herself from this mess?
An indefinable glint flickered across his luscious eyes and his chin dimpled. "I'd still really like to see your sketches." He reached out to touch her hand when Crowe walked by frowning, his brows drawn together, clearing his throat. Straightening to his full height, Cole towered over her.
Feeling shabby at being a grouch to him when she was really at fault, she relented. "How about I make you a gourmet dinner at my place?" She fluttered her lashes, then remembered the effect would probably be lost behind her darkened lenses. She was anxious for the day she could wear her contacts. "I'll show you my sketches." After hiding her costume again. Maybe for good.
His features contorted, and she could almost see the wheels spinning in his head. "Can't tonight. I'm on special assignment."
The way he said "special assignment" made her tremble. "What kind of special assignment?"
"Top secret." A shutter fell over his eyes and his face became a mask. "Friday?" He frowned, tapping his chin with his finger. "No, that won't work. This weekend's the playoffs. I don't know how late the games will go. Depends whether we win or not."
"Bite your tongue, naysayer! Positive thinking only!" Brad slapped Cole's shoulder as he ambled by. "We're going to cream Pembroke Pines and Delray!"
"Rah-rah, team! Sis-boom-bah!" Cole punched his fists in the air, and kicked his well-muscled leg out like a cheerleader.
"Sonny boy!" A deep voice boomed through the room.
Finding it completely unfamiliar, Haley swiveled to search for the source.
Cole froze, groaning, hiding his face in his hands. "Oh, no! Not here."
Curious, Haley studied the stranger who was an older version of Cole with longer, unrulier hair, sauntering toward them in a pale yellow leisure suit. He had the attention of everyone in the room.
Cindy's blasé gaze raked over the man as she filed her nails.
Brad scratched his head, his gaze switching from Cole to the older man. "That your old man? Did you know he was coming?"
Haley eyed Cole closely, anxiously awaiting more details. Surely this adorable man couldn't be the father he was so embarrassed by.
"This is a complete and total surprise. He's supposed to warn me before he swoops in. Oh, man." Cole rubbed his stubbly hair, agitation in his every jerky movement.
Cole's father stopped two feet in front of his son, flung his arms wide, and bellowed, "Well? Aren't you glad to see your old man, the Toilet King, Kojak?"
"Nix on the toilet thing, okay, Pops?" Cole's gaze shifted around to everyone in the room. He blushed furiously as people laughed out loud. "And don't call me Kojak!" If he ground his teeth any more, he'd have no enamel left.
Fascinated, Haley watched as Cole's father enveloped him in a huge, smothering bear hug usually reserved for little children, not grown adults, and certainly not big, tough policemen. She couldn't imagine being ashamed of her father, the police chief. He was her forever hero. Then, of course, her dad didn't show up in a leisure suit, bellowing out he was the "Toilet King" in front of all her coworkers. Pity swelled in her bosom. Poor Cole.
Cole hissed. "Stop that!"
"What?" Unsure if he spoke to her, Haley looked behind her and around her, and then pointed to herself. When he nodded, thunderclouds flashing in his eyes, she asked, "What'd I do?"
"Stop pitying me," Cole mouthed over his father's shoulder.
Guiltily, she looked down at her feet. She hadn't meant to pity or anger him.
Finally, Cole's father released him and stepped back. "So this is world famous Ft. Lauderdale. Where's all the hot babes with the big hooters in bikinis?"
"At the beach." Cole pointed to his right. "Only a mile or so east." His face lit up. "Want me to take you now?" Hope colored his voice. "They're even allowed to wear G-strings here." When his father hesitated, Cole added, "You could check out the beach sanitary facilities. They're really antiquated. I bet you could sell them a whole new system."
A grin split the older man's face. "I told you you were the Toilet Prince! I knew your mind was on toilets, that you would help your old man in the end."
"The 'Toilet Prince'? That's priceless." Brad's laughter bubbled from his lips.
Cole glared at his friend and partner. He fisted his hand and let Brad have a peek at it behind his other hand. "I am not the 'Toilet Prince'. I am your senior partner, and I write your performance reviews. Remember?" Cole's voice had never been deadlier.
Brad backed off, his hands held high in the air, palms flat out. He couldn't stop snickering.
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends and coworkers?" Cole's dad asked, standing his ground, his hands deep in his pockets. He dragged out a hand holding a stack of business cards and handed one to Brad. He smiled widely as he stuck a card in Brad's hand. "I'm Dwight, the Toilet King of the Midwest and Cole's proud papa." He pronounced Dwight as "Du-white" with a very pronounced country twang. "If you need a new toilet bowl or septic system, I can cut you a deal. Be sure to come to me first. As a friend of my son's, I'll give you an extra ten percent off your total purchase."
Brad stared at the card in his hand as if he'd just landed in the Twilight Zone. "Sure. Sure thing." He lifted the card and waved it in the air. "Thanks."
Dwight turned to Haley, pinning her with his keen gaze. He winked at his son. "Who's this pretty little filly? Is this one yours?"
Haley gulped, hanging onto Cole's next words, wondering what he would say. One date didn't make her his girl, did it? Especially since he'd two-timed her right afterward. To alleviate the awkwardness, she offered up the plate of cookies. "Hi. I'm Haley, one of the precinct's administrative assistants. Have a cookie? I baked them myself."
Dwight plucked a chocolate chip cookie off the plate. "Don't mind if I do." He nudged his son in the ribs. "This one can cook, too. You'd better snag her." His gaze raked over her. "But put her on a diet so she can fit in one of those G-strings."
Cole's Adam's apple nearly fell out of his throat and his eyes bulged. He clutched his father's wrist. "Pops!"
Haley's new lollipop nearly fell out of her open mouth. The stick dangled from her lips. Had she heard right? Was Cole's father really that brazen and forthright? Or just insensitive?
"You're going to get me creamed if you keep helping me like this," Cole muttered, his face nearly purple by now. "Sorry, Haley." He nudged his father in the ribs. "Apologize to Haley, Pops."
Dwight faced off to Haley, his hand held out to shake hers. "I'm sorry if I insinuated that you're, uh, a little on the stout side."
Haley took his hand, unable to do anything else without looking peevish. Plus she supposed Dwight was one of those people who spoke their minds and didn't embarrass easily. He had to be, to be proud of a title like "Toilet King". A horrible thought struck her---if her dearest wish came true and she married Cole one day, she'd be the "Toilet Princess" and eventually, the "Toilet Queen". She stifled a pained groan.
"But it's such a shame that a girl with such a pretty face don't have a figure to match. At least you don't have a double chin like my secretary, Myrtle, back home. Or a big bald spot on the top of your head." He clapped his son on the back so hard that Cole lurched forward. "Right, son?"
Her eyes widened so large in her face her cheeks hurt, and she chomped down on her sucker so hard it splintered into dozens of shards. A couple of large ones went down her windpipe and she choked.
Cole reached her side in two giant strides and pounded her back until she spit up the candy. "You okay?" Real concern laced his voice.
Clutching her sore throat in her hand, she smiled wanly. "Yeah. Thanks." Her glasses slid to the tip of her nose so that she peered over the top at Cole. She pushed them back in place hurriedly, turning away from Cole as she did so, hoping he had not gotten a good look at her face sans glasses.
"Sure you don't need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?" A glimmer of the Cole she knew and loved returned as he cracked a lopsided smile.
She couldn't help but give him an answering grin as her stomach flip-flopped.
"That's better." He pinched her cheek. "How about I view those sketches Monday night?" He winked so that only she could see him. "Or Sunday night if we win the tournament early enough?"
A raging inferno blasted through her, and she longed to throw herself into his arms now and not wait for Sunday or Monday. Not trusting her voice, fearing it would come out too sultry and husky, she nodded. She tucked her hair behind her ears as her cheeks burned.
Haley worried about Cole all afternoon and evening. Something big was up. Something top secret. He tended to end up at the wrong end of a gun way too often. The man desperately needed his own genie in a bottle.
She worried her lower lip with her teeth as she beat her cookie batter to a pulp, trying to get out her aggressions and failing miserably. Genies usually wore colorful veils, although they did wear slinky spandex costumes, too.
She entertained herself listening to the police monitor, waiting for news of Cole's mission, praying trouble didn't find him again. When someone banged on the door, she jumped, nearly dropping the ceramic bowl in her arms. Would Cole show up at her door unannounced?
She turned off the radio in case it was him. She didn't want him to know she followed his progress when he was on night or weekend duty.
A strange woman's fist almost pounded Haley's forehead when she opened the door. "Hiya, toots."
The visitor didn't wait for an invitation, but strolled in and dropped onto Haley's lounger.
Haley blinked at the intruder, awed at her nerve. "Do I know you? Perhaps you have the wrong apartment."
The woman's brows lifted, and she chuckled heartily. "Don't you recognize your best friend and most perfect, gorgeous, delightful neighbor? Not even my lovely voice?"
Haley did a double take, approaching her guest with caution. Stooping low so that she was eye level with the woman, she stared into her eyes and studied her features. Sure enough, a red pageboy wig with bangs hid Sher's hair. Haley had to laugh aloud at herself. By now, she should be used to her friend, the chameleon, especially as she herself was a chameleon-in-training.
Now she understood how Cole didn't recognize her. Sher didn't even wear glasses, just different makeup and a new wig, and Haley had not recognized her. She supposed she should cut the sexy policeman a break.
Sher dipped her finger into the bowl and scooped out cookie dough, which she plopped into her mouth. A heavenly expression spread over her face. "Umm, peanut butter. If I baked like you did, I'd be as wide as my baby grand piano. You should sell this stuff. You'd be an overnight millionaire." She stole another chunk of the dough and let it melt in her mouth, ecstasy lighting her face.
"Did you come over to steal my cookie dough?" Haley estimated how much dough she had left and grimaced. "I'll have to whip up more now."
"Sorry, doll. But it's irresistible." The wide grin on the redhead's face negated her words.
Haley didn't really mind. Her friend's appearance was a godsend anyway. She really wanted to share her secret with someone, but she didn't dare confide in Cindy lest all of Greater Miami--Ft. Lauderdale would see it on the five o'clock news. Sher could keep secrets.
Dropping onto the couch, she kicked her feet up on her coffee table, crossing her legs at her ankles. She cuddled the bowl on her lap and sampled the dough. "God forgive me this double life. I'm always jealous of myself. I'm going to become Sybil any moment." She groaned and hid her face in her hands.
"I liked Peggy better." Sher looked completely unperturbed.
Her friend's lack of concern disturbed Haley immensely. "I just told you, my best friend in the whole wide world, that my mind is splintering into a million fragments, and you're not even concerned?" Haley turned her lips down as far as they would go. Depressed, she plopped another glob of cookie dough in her mouth and sucked on it. She should have made chocolate cookies. Chocolate was better for depression.
"Okay, I'll bite. Why do you think you're losing it?" Sher adopted a professional psychologist smile.
Haley could play the game, too. Swinging her legs onto the couch, she stretched out supiprone. "Remember the brown wig you gave me?"
"You're going to blame me for your psychosis?" Sher tapped her chin. "Avoidance disorder. You're not taking responsibility for your own actions."
Haley screwed up her face and crooked her head to glare at her friend-cum-counselor. Her fingers drummed her tummy. "Do you want to hear my story or not?"
"Continue. But don't ask me questions if you don't want me to answer."
Haley stared at the ceiling. "Remember the Catwoman costume I wore at the Police Halloween Masquerade?" Oops! She hurried before her friend answered this question as well, sure Sher couldn't forget the infamous costume.
"Anyway, on the way home from the ball, I had my police scanner on as I always do, and I heard cops were in trouble just a couple of streets away from where I was. And I went to the crime scene, snuck up on the armed gunman, and saved two policemen. Then I ran away so they wouldn't know who I am."
Sher nodded and mumbled, "Uh-huh. So the damsel saved the white knights. Cool." She leaned forward and snatched the cookie dough from Haley. "I'm performing my public duty for the night---saving you from deadly cellulite." She took a big exaggerated bite.
Haley winced, but at least she hadn't thrown anything more tangible than a caustic comment.
"There's more." Haley wasn't sure whether to thank her friend or fight for the food. Then she remembered how her spandex slacks showed every wrinkle and mole, and decided her figure would appreciate the suffering for its sake. "A couple of nights later, I heard another cop needed assistance, so I put my costume back on. Well, not the cap or mask or ears. Oh, and not the tail. But I dressed in the black spandex slacks and the leotard, donned your wig and my new brown contact lenses, disguising myself."
Sher leaned forward, her full attention on Haley. A grin hovered on her lips. "This is better than my soap opera."
"The same cop was in trouble." Cole's visage floated through Haley's mind, and she smiled dreamily. "His name is Cole Fischer, and I've been crazy about him since he came to work in my precinct three years ago. God, he's gorgeous!" Remembering his molten touch, her mouth went dry and her toes curled.
"He fed me bugs on our date, and he's the most wonderful lover..." She hugged herself, missing Cole, praying he'd be okay on his current mission.
Sher's jaw dropped, then her nose wrinkled. "Gross out! Bugs?" She knocked on Haley's skull. "Who am I talking to now? Sybil? What do you mean he fed you 'bugs'?"
"It was really lobster, but he calls them 'bugs'." She remembered the truth, and she couldn't tell a lie. "You know, actually, I started it and he just retaliated."
"Started what?" Sher tapped her toe spasmodically. "If you don't start making sense, you'll be able to call me Sybil, too."
Haley smiled softly as she wound a strand of her hair around her fingers as she looked back into time. "I called lobsters 'bugs' first. So when my dinner was served, he called it a 'big bug' when I was chewing the first bite."
"This dinner wasn't very romantic, was it? What is it you like about this guy?"
"Oh, but it was very romantic. He cut my lobster for me, and then fed me." Tingles shot up Haley's spine and she shuddered deliciously. "And then he told me all about his father, the Toilet King of Milwaukee..."
"Huh? You've lost me again. Back up." Sher crossed her legs, Indian style, in the chair and folded her hands in her lap.
"His father sells sanitary facilities. He wants Cole to go home and help him run the family business, but Cole likes being a cop."
"Can't say I blame him if those are his only choices." The redhead flexed her feet, unable to sit still.
"I don't, either. But of course you know my dream was to be a cop." Haley sighed loudly. "That night, after he brought me home, I put on my disguise again...oh, and that's why I borrowed your motorcycle, by the way, and I went to his apartment and took him for a ride."
"Oh, my God...I'm an accessory. How many years are you going to get for impersonating a cop? How many years will I get?"
"Chill. I didn't impersonate a cop. I just helped to stop a crime in progress. I think..." She'd have to do some research at work, albeit after the fact. Oh God. She didn't need any more trouble. "That two-timer turned right around from kissing me senseless and wanting to come up and see my sketches, to making love to her like she was the only girl in the world." Even though she'd told herself a million times that Cole couldn't cheat on her with her, she wasn't sure her logic made sense. Her thinking contained a definite flaw. Forgiving him seemed like rationalizing, and she detested rationalizers.
Too restless to lie down any longer, she jumped to her feet and paced in front of her pretend psychologist, her hands linked behind her back.
"He didn't recognize you because you wore my wig and brown contact lenses instead of your glasses?" Sher's head turned to look at the television, and she stared at it for several moments. "No one but Lois Lane could be that blind...or stupid. I used to sit in front of my TV and yell at Lois to open her ears and eyes. She was a reporter! And your guy's a cop. I guess he's not the brightest bulb on the FLPD, is he? This doesn't exactly give me a lot of confidence in our local boys in blue."
"Hey!" Haley marched to Sher, towered over her, and planted her hands on her hips. "It was dark every time he saw me." She flipped on her radio. Something big could be going down and she'd been incommunicado. Cole might need her. "Can I borrow your bike again tonight?" She disappeared into her bedroom and changed into her costume.
Shaking her head, Sher ambled after her and propped up the doorway. "Methinks I created another Frankenstein's monster. Give a girl a wig and change her life. Tell me you can't seriously be thinking of continuing on with this madness?"
Hang her job! Even her freedom wouldn't matter if she sat back and allowed Cole to get hurt. "Protecting the man I lo---have feelings for...isn't madness."
Sher blinked. "I hope you're not loco. Seeing that you're younger than moi, you're too young to plead Alzheimer's. Promise me you won't try to fly off a tall building like Superman. I don't want the cops draggin' my butt out of bed at three a.m. to identify my mangled bike or your broken body wearing my favorite red wig."
Haley pulled off the borrowed mahogany wig and held it out before her, and stared at it with crossed eyes. Her own nondescript hair was pinned up in funny little pin curls so her unruly curls wouldn't tumble out of the wig's edges, and she looked like something out of Fright Night. She held up her fingers in a Girl Scout salute. "Promise." She trembled at the thought of flying in a plane, so there was no way she'd jump off a building. She smoothed her hands over her outfit. "Silly woman. This is a Catwoman costume. I'll just speed around on your motorcycle, and pretend it's Batman's car."
"Oh, okay." Sher sauntered into the middle of the room. "You can't keep this up forever. The guy'll never forgive you if you make him a bigamist with yourself."
Like he would be a bigamist if he married her. But of course he'd be furious if she didn't tell him the truth. She'd get around to it, if he continued to date either one of her personas. "I'll tell him eventually...or else Catwoman will just disappear. I'm hoping he'll choose plain old Haley."
"Uh-oh." Sher shook her head. "Now you're talking about yourself in the third person. Not good, girlfriend." She tweaked Haley's bouncy, bright curls. "Besides, you're nowhere near plain."
"Can I borrow the motorcycle, then?" Haley bent over and zipped up the spindly, high-heeled boots. Her fingertips caressed the soft black leather. "If he marries me...I mean Haley-me, not Catwoman-me, you'll be my maid of honor."
"So long as I don't have to dress up like a cartoon character, I accept." Sher gazed at her red wig. "I think I'll wear my blonde wig for the wedding. Then we'll match."
"We'll even have the identical hairstyle so we'll be twins."
"...policeman in trouble at Sunrise and 54th. Repeat. Policeman in trouble at Sunrise and 54th. Suspect is armed and dangerous. Approach with extreme caution..."
Haley gasped, freezing to the spot, while her heart hammered and her blood pumped ten miles a minute. Every nerve ending screamed to be let loose. Instinct told her that her man was in trouble. "Cole needs me." She crammed the wig back onto her head and held out her hand, palm up. "Keys," she demanded in a voice as authoritative as any she'd ever heard her father---the police chief---use.
\*
Cole lay in wait for his mystery woman, his gut clenched. He scanned the alley and perked his ears for any sign of her arrival. She should have been here over an hour ago. Soon, he'd have to scrub the operation and call it a failure.
For the thousandth time, he checked his watch.
Maybe she was on to him. Did that mean Sheila had squealed? Or could Sheila be the mystery woman herself?
His police cruiser blocked the alley on the south end.
Dressed in all black, including a ski mask to hide his face, Brad posed as the bad guy. He prowled the alley, blowing bubbles with his gum.
Maurice, Steve, Eddie and Fernando lay in wait in the shadows. Each had expressed concern that Cole's mystery woman wasn't going to show if she hadn't by now.
Two unmarked units waited near the open end of the alley waiting to block it off and trap their guest. They had chosen a section of the alley with no escape routes. The buildings on both sides were joined. There wasn't even a sidewalk for a motorcycle to escape. Several large dumpsters lined the buildings. Stray cats picked through the trash that littered the cracked pavement. They paused occasionally to glare at him if he took a step in their direction.
Brad gave him the go-ahead signal.
At least, they were physically ready for her. Cole didn't like what he had to do once they caught her and he wished he were anywhere else but here.
Why was he conflicted about doing his duty? After all, she was a complete stranger. All he knew about her was that she tasted sweet and felt heavenly in his arms.
But so did Haley...
Haley made him laugh, and she stimulated his mind, as well as other parts of his anatomy. Haley was real. She had a history. She didn't lurk around mysteriously in the dark and play charades.
Cole rubbed his chin, staring off into space. So, what about Haley? His blood boiled and his groin ached just thinking about her. Every nerve ending sizzled when they touched. Her lips far eclipsed any honey he'd ever tasted. She made him laugh. And she'd make a good sensible wife and mother to some lucky man. He couldn't go wrong choosing her.
Except he was also obsessed with his fantasy heroine. What a dream come true! As ethereal as mist, she disappeared as quickly as she appeared. He couldn't rest 'til he knew who she was.
But fantasies weren't real. Once he knew the woman's true identity, would the magic evaporate? She might have no personality. What man in his right mind would want a wife who chased around on motorcycles in the dead of night? Or maybe he just wanted a sizzling affair with the temptress until the fire in his gut burned out? Then he'd be ready to settle down with a nice woman like Haley, like his Pop had suggested.
Brad sauntered over to him. "I don't think she's coming, or she'd have been here by now. Let's call it a night."
Grouchy, Cole slammed his fist into his other hand. "Not yet. Maybe she didn't hear the call yet. She could be on her way."
"The other guys think we're bustin' our balls to wait any longer." Brad lifted his mask and fanned his face. "Man, you know how hot this sucker is?"
Cole growled. "Just give it ten more minutes. If she hasn't shown, we'll scrub the operation." A car sped past the alley and his nerves jumped to alert. But it was another false alarm so his gut clenched.
"Maybe she's on to you, man." Brad pursed his lips and laid a commiserating hand on Cole's shoulder.
Cole knocked off his friend's hand. "She could be staking us out, you know. You'll blow our cover," he hissed. "Be a real pal, and point that gun at me."
Brad raised his toy water pistol.
They were taking no chances of shooting one another or their mystery lady with live ammo. He hoped this wouldn't make the news, or else they would be the laughingstock of South Florida. Worse, the criminals might not take them seriously in future.
A motorcycle roared to life, jerking Cole alert. "It's her." His gut clenched and his fingers tightened around the flashlight he held. His pulse hammered in his veins and his breathing came out in short bursts. He flashed the signal in Morse code to his men. "Ready. Action. Roll 'em," he muttered under his breath.
To Brad, he ordered, "Get that arm up and gun out, soldier. Look threatening. Snarl or something."
Brad snorted, backing away a few feet, gun raised high. "If she shoots or karate chops me, you're a dead man."
Cole's gaze riveted on the still clear alley entrance, willing her to enter their trap. A feeling that didn't sit well, he felt like a spider, spinning its web around its prey.
The roar grew louder. He could smell her oil. She was almost here. He stretched his arms so high over his head they ached. Now he knew what a damsel-in-distress felt like.
Finally, she blazed into the alley, speeding toward Brad, who ducked and rolled to safety as she kicked a deadly leg. If he'd been a second slower, she would have kicked the water pistol from his hands.
The units closed in, blocking the alley, entrapping her. The troops fanned out from one edge of the alley to the other, blocking the exit.
The woman must not have seen them for she pulled up next to Cole and shouted above her noisy engine, "You okay? Hop on!"
Cole grabbed the cycle's handle and shook his head, his features taut. "Turn off the bike and get off!"
His men crept closer, water pistols drawn. They looked lethally real in the dark alley. The web pulled tighter.
Cole's throat constricted.
"You set a trap," she accused, loudly gunning the cycle. Her sharp glance ricocheted to the men, and then settled on him. Pain flickered across her eyes before an angry shutter slammed down on them.
She presented her silky mahogany head for his inspection. Her shoulders tensed, bunching together. Again, a trace of recognition sparked, but the connection failed. The woman seemed very familiar, yet he couldn't place her.
"Who are you? Identify yourself." He had to shout to be heard over her engine. "Get off the motorcycle!" His patience wore thin as did his nerves. Didn't she realize her little game was over and that he had won?
She shook her head vehemently, revved her engine and roared off toward the far, blocked end of the alley, flame shooting out the bike's afterburners. Her hair whipped out behind her.
"She's not going anywhere," Brad said smugly beside him, yanking the knit mask off his head. "We've got her blocked."
Worry slammed through Cole as he watched the wheels spin faster and faster, and the bike eat up its safe-stopping margin. He cursed under his breath as he gave chase on foot. She was going to crash and burn. What was wrong with her?
The officers standing by the vehicles flailed their arms. Cole shouted to his Catwoman, "Stop! By order of the police."
Brad cupped his hands around his mouth. "There's no way out. The alley's blocked."
But the motorcycle stayed true to its path and bore down on them. The men dove out of the way when the mystery woman's motorcycle rode over the hoods of their government-issued sedans. Cole's jaw dropped so wide it almost disjointed. He slammed into the nearest car, heaving over the hood. Furious, he pounded his fist into the car as he watched the night swallow bike and rider. "Damn!"
Haley verged on hyperventilating. She wheezed from fright and the superhuman exertion she had been forced into when leaping over those police cars to escape. Joy filled her that she had performed such a difficult stunt and lived relatively unscathed. Fury raged through her that Cole dared to set a trap.
"Top secret mission, my foot!" She revved the engine, taking out her aggression over them. She wound through the city, choosing alternate routes too narrow for cars to squeeze through, in case they tried to follow. Finally sure she'd ditched Cole and his cohorts, she hid Sher's motorcycle and brown wig in a safe spot several blocks from their apartments, and slinked home in the shadows, barely daring to breathe.
If Cole suspected her, he might have another trap waiting at her house. Even sans wig and cycle, how could she explain walking alone after dark in all black? She looked like a cat burglar.
Tiptoeing up the fire escape instead of using the elevator, she treaded carefully. The hallway was clear when she peeked out the door. Inhaling deeply, she screwed up her nerve to traverse the last few steps to safety.
"One." Her gaze darted back and forth for any signs of another trap. The way looked clear.
"Two." Her ears perked for any suspicious sounds. All she could hear was the hum of a stereo and the central air unit whooshing on.
"Three." She exhaled and dashed for her apartment, adrenaline pumping through her. When her fingers fumbled with the keys, wasting precious moments unlocking her door, she chafed. "Come on, butterfingers."
Feeling guilty, and scared, and jittery, she wished she'd listened to Sher. The feeling of danger permeated the air, so once inside she turned the lock and threw the dead bolt. She tore off her costume, balled it up tightly, wrapped it inside an old T-shirt, and hid it at the back of her bottom dresser drawer. She buried the boots inside a large box in the far region of her closet.
Still breathing heavily, she turned on her shower as cold as she could stand and sluiced herself clean. She scrubbed her hair and face also, removing all stench of the motorcycle from her body. Then she drenched herself in jasmine-scented cologne and redressed in a loose-fitting white robe, the antithesis of her alter ego.
Although she felt a bit better and breathed easier, nervous energy still pulsed through her. No way could she go to sleep or read a book. Besides, the hour was barely nine-thirty and her internal clock didn't normally wind down 'til midnight.
Knowing it unwise to deviate from her normal routine, she whipped up a couple of batches of cookie dough. One sugar cookie dough, the other batch, peanut butter.
The familiar, wonderful scent of baking cookies wrapped around her, and she calmed down another notch.
Still antsy, she turned on her television and searched through her videotapes for an interesting movie. Her gaze riveted to her Superman collection. She felt a magnetic pull toward it, and selected the first in the series---and in her opinion---the best.
Inserting the tape in her VCR, she adjusted the TV and the movie credits rolled. Superman's theme song filled her tiny apartment. She hummed to it and waved her arm as if conducting an orchestra. Popcorn popped in the microwave and she prepared another tray of cookies for the oven. She grabbed a chilled bottle of spring water from her fridge, dumped the buttery popcorn in a large bowl, and carried the snack out to her living room where she spread out on her floor in front of the tube as if she were nine years old again.
Clark Kent's transformation into the superhero thrilled and enthralled her. Someone pounded on her apartment door just as a TV bullet exploded from a barrel, and she screamed.
"Haley! You okay?" Sher yelled through the door, rattling the knob and pounding louder.
Haley gulped and scrambled to her feet. The deadbolt sounded like rifle fire when she undid it, grating on her already frazzled nerves.
As soon as the door started to open, Sher pushed her way in. Her friend looked around suspiciously. "You sure you're okay?"
Haley nodded, relocking the door. "It was a trap. Cole set me up." She dropped back in her place and stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Through it, she invited, "Wanna watch Superman with me?"
Sher loomed over her, hands on hips, the red pageboy wig slightly askew on her head. "Where's my bike? Keys, please." She wiggled the fingers on her outstretched hand. "What d'ya mean he set you up?" Her red eyebrow crooked. "He knows who you are now?"
Onscreen, Lois Lane practically swooned over Superman. Cole reminded Haley so much of the reporter with her big puppy dog eyes that adored the caped crusader. She shook her head and guffawed. "How can she not recognize him as Clark Kent, the man she works with every day? How dare she call herself smart! I mean, the only difference is no glasses and a suit." She attacked more popcorn. "It's not dark, nor does he have the same hairstyle and color. He's not even disguising his voice."
"My bike?" Sher scowled. "You didn't mangle it, did you?"
Haley rolled to her side and gazed straight up at her neighbor, who reminded her of Godzilla from this perspective. "That's a great motorcycle, you know. It jumps police cars like magic."
Sher blinked, but otherwise froze. "Come again?" She pinned Haley with her gaze.
Haley sat up, pulling her knees to her chest, and sighed. "Dear Cole set a trap for me. He wasn't in any danger. He and his buddies were laying in wait, in a dead-end alley."
Sher stared at her with eyes wide.
"They pointed guns at me and ordered me to give myself up." Cole must be desperate to discover her alter ego's true identity, which meant he couldn't be too interested in her real self.
"So he just let you go?" Sher sunk to her knees next to Haley and leaned on one arm.
Haley shook her head. "No. I panicked and jumped the bike over two police cars and got away. I'm still in shock." She held out her unsteady hand. "See?" She delved into the pocket of the pants that were strewn over the couch's arm and took out Sher's key ring and returned it. "I didn't know if they might show up here, so I hid the bike a few blocks away. I'll take you to it. Tomorrow soon enough?"
"Long as it's in a safe place."
Haley nodded. Behind her, she heard Lois Lane giving Clark Kent the brush-off, so she turned around to watch, feeling as if she watched herself and Cole. "Boo! Hiss!" She threw popcorn at Lois Lane. "Open your eyes, lady!" The fluffy white missiles bounced off the TV screen, littering the floor.
Sher grabbed a handful and joined Haley in booing Lois Lane and cheering on Clark Kent.
Haley burst into spasms of laughter and rolled on the carpeted floor, howling with mirth. Sher's laughter almost drowned hers out.
She smelled the cookies baking and climbed to her feet, still chuckling. Deciding four trays worth of cookies were enough to take to the office the following day, she shut off the oven and carried the rest of the raw cookie dough to the living room. Holding out both bowls, she asked, "Sugar cookies, or peanut butter?"
Sher practically drooled and snatched the peanut butter cookie dough. "Girlfriend, you really know how to throw a party." Through a mouthful of dough, Sher asked, "Will you teach me how to jump like Evel Knievel?"
At that moment, a fist hammered Haley's door, almost splintering it, and she gulped, almost choking on a mouthful of cookie dough. She exchanged worried glances with her friend as she stood and grabbed her slacks off the couch. Who could be at her door after ten o'clock? Sher was the only one who ever dropped by so late, and she was already here.
"Who's there?" she called through the door, wishing she had a peephole. She hopped into her slacks and yanked up the zipper. Then she tightened the sash on her robe.
"Cole!" The voice was very deep, very sexy, and very weary. "Can I come in?"
Oh, no! Was he here because he suspected her? She finger-fluffed her curls, licked her lips, and squared her shoulders. "I'm dressed for bed. Give me a sec to get decent."
A sec? She needed an hour!
She tore out the bobby pins in her hair and finger fluffed her curls. Then she sprinted to the bedroom, nixed the robe, and pulled on the first t-shirt she tore from her dresser drawer. On her way into the living room, she grabbed up the cookie dough like armour.
Thrusting out her chest and pasting a smile on her face, she opened the door, once again cradling the cookie dough in her arms. "Sorry to make you wait. Isn't it rather late?" Despite trying hard to sound friendly and perky, her voice came out husky.
Cole's muscular frame filled her doorway and a naughty smile played about the edges of his lips. "You didn't have to change out of your bed clothes for me. I know I said we'd wait 'til Sunday or Monday, but I couldn't wait to see you." He strolled into her living room, and stopped when he spied Sher throwing more popcorn at the television. "Uh, did I interrupt something?" He gazed at her friend as if she were from a different planet. Then his gaze zeroed in on the mess.
"We were just watching Superman. It's just ending." Crimson stole up Sher's ruddy cheeks. She crawled on her knees to the television and started cleaning up the popcorn mess.
It was the first time Haley had ever seen Sher flustered. Haley waved her off and wrinkled her nose. "I'll vacuum that up later."
Sher rose unsteadily to her feet and made a beeline for the door. "Wow, I didn't realize it was so late. I really have to get going." She paused at the hall, her hand on the knob. "We'll get it tomorrow night, right?"
Haley gulped, and nodded. "Sure thing." She willed her friend not to slip up and say the wrong thing, mentally pushing her out the door. "G'night."
Sher waved as she backed out and closed the door softly, leaving Haley and Cole alone.
Cole came up behind her and grasped her shoulders in his large, calloused hands. His heat seeped into her, making her unbearably aware of him. "I couldn't wait until Sunday to see you." He nuzzled her ear, his tongue delving into the sensitive canal.
Shivering deliciously, she closed her eyes and leaned back against him. "Umm, wonderful." She hoped he wasn't seducing her only as part of a second, deadlier trap. But even if he was, she was on the verge of not caring as long as he didn't stop.
"You taste wonderful." His breath tickled her neck making her giggle. He scraped a finger along the bowl's edge, and then carried cookie dough to his mouth. He did it again, but offered her the dough, his finger hovering in front of her mouth, teasing her lips.
She took his finger in her mouth, sucked off the dough and then licked off the vestiges, almost collapsing when he groaned into her ear.
"I bet you'd taste even more exquisite if I spread that dough all over you." Before she could react, he spread cookie dough on her neck, his magic fingers mesmerizing her. Then he proceeded to prove his theory by licking it off.
She moaned, twisting in his arms. Emboldened by his actions, she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tail from his pants. Taking a glob of dough, she rubbed it across his chest, totally engrossed in her job. Putting her lips to his chest, she licked the dough from it, swirling her tongue, delighted when he trembled against her. She became achingly aware of the bulge straining against his black jeans, pressing against her stomach. If this was another trap, he was ensnared just as deeply as herself.
He shrugged out of his shirt, letting it pool on the floor by their feet. Stepping back a pace, he cracked the sexiest grin she'd ever seen, stealing her breath. He lifted her shirt over her head, and then he unfastened her bra, his gaze feverish and smoldering on her breasts. His voice raw and rugged, he mumbled, "Gorgeous." He spread dough over one breast, paying particular attention to her pebbled nipple, and then turned his attention to the other.
Just when she thought she'd die from ecstasy, he suckled a pert nipple deep in his mouth. His hands spanned her bare waist. His thumbs caressed her searing flesh. His groin strained against her feminine core.
As he swept her into heaven, she spread her palms flat against his chest, spreading the cookie dough from his shoulders to the rim of his slacks. Longing to taste him, all of him, she unsnapped and unzipped his pants, and slipped her hand inside seeking his very hot, sexy cock.
He moaned against her breast, writhing in her hand. "I'm so hot I'm going to explode."
"Not without me." Stepping back, she shimmied out of her remaining clothes, delighting in stripping before him as his hot, randy gaze traveled slowly and appreciatively over every inch of her.
When he started to remove his slacks, she shook her head and knelt before him. In her sultriest voice, she ordered, "Don't. Let me." She peeled his pants off his long, powerful legs, and helped him step out of them. All that was left on him was a pair of the sexiest and briefest men's underwear she'd ever seen and which didn't begin to hide his very erect cock. Passion dried her mouth, and she licked suddenly parched lips. Even covered as it was, his size was every bit as impressive as she recalled, only now she had better lighting to view true size that she had only felt the first time.
She trailed a fingernail lightly down the thin line of black, coarse hair on his flat, hard stomach that started at his navel and widened as it disappeared under his briefs. Eager to see his cock unsheathed, she pulled down his underwear, speechless when his silky, hard length hung heavy and throbbing before her gaze.
Quivering with lust, yearning to taste cookie dough on his throbbing cock, she took the burning monster in her hands, feeling his power, and almost swooned. Then she took his velvety cock in her mouth as far as she could, licking and sucking as he moaned and buried his fingers in her hair. Losing herself in his power, she delighted in his scrumptious taste.
"You've bewitched me." But he didn't sound as if he minded in the least. In fact, he seemed to enjoy her bewitching spell. He pulled back, and swooped down on her, scooping her into his arms. Plundering her lips with his, he kissed her deeply as he carried her to her bed and lay down on top of her.
"It took long enough," she quipped, a lopsided grin tilting her lips. "You don't know how many different spells I cast on my cookies to find one that worked on you."
He chuckled and said, "Witchcraft is a no-no in our precinct."
"So arrest me, officer." She held out her hands, daring him to cuff her. Dreaming about how kinky that might be, she was half-serious and wiggled them before his nose. "Tie me up, Lieutenant," she said in her huskiest voice.
He quirked a dark brow as he eyed her arms. "You serious?"
"Deadly. Go for it if you have your cuffs on you."
A rueful smile curved his lips as he nuzzled her earlobe. "Unfortunately, I don't carry them off duty. But I can start."
Disappointed, she pondered their dilemma. She had a pair of handcuffs stashed in the back of her closet, a souvenir from her days in the police academy but did she dare confess? He could add two plus two as well as the next guy and she was already teetering on the edge of detection. Either he'd come up with four or he'd think she was into this kind of kink with every man she lured into her den.
Better not chance it yet. Later, if and when she ensnared him in her web. So what other materials did she have that could work as a makeshift handcuff?
"Do you have any pantyhose?" he whispered in her ear as his tongue bathed it.
Shivers shot down her spine and she trembled uncontrollably. Nodding, following his naughty thoughts, she said on a sultry breath, "Of course. Just let me up to get them."
"Oh, no. Just tell me where they are. I want to keep your engine purring." He rose and stood expectantly by the side of the bed.
She pointed to the top drawer of her dresser. "In the top, rightmost drawer."
When he started to open the left where her Catwoman wig resided, she almost went into heart failure. Jumping up and screaming, she raced across the room and slammed it shut. "The other drawer."
Puzzlement lit his eyes as he snatched back his hand in the nick of time to save it from being maimed. His gaze riveted back to the forbidden place. "You hiding something from me, missy?"
Fear almost strangling her, she grasped his hand and grabbed several pair of loose hose. Tugging him back to her bed, she sent him a sly, come-hither glance. "Of course not. I'm just anxious to get you back in my bed, and lather you with cookie dough. I'm starving."
He gazed at the drawer for several long seconds as if torn, but then finally returned his gaze to her. "So am I, babe."
Never taking her gaze from the hottie, she didn't want to give him pause to get interested in the drawer's contents again. She lay down and stretched her hands and legs toward the bedposts. "Tie away, stud."
A real animal, he growled as he knotted the stretchy hosiery around her and then secured it to the bedpost. Gently, he asked, "These aren't too tight, are they? They're not hurting you?"
Tingling with more excitement than she'd ever known, eager to be at his complete mercy, she smiled up at him. "I feel better than I ever have. Do with me what you will."
He stopped, a slight frown marring his forehead. "Not so fast. Not that I've ever done this before... From the little I've heard, we should have a safe word that will signal me to stop should you get uncomfortable or should I unintentionally hurt you."
Warmth flooded her that he cared enough to think of her comfort and safety. Nodding, she agreed. "Like 'Armageddon'?"
He winced and shook his head. "How about 'Battleship'?"
It didn't matter to her what word they used and battleship was as memorable as any. She only wanted to start their little adventure. "Perfect," she crooned, her pussy clenching.
He tightened her bonds. "How's that feel?"
Deliciously dangerous. Decadent. "Uhm... Exciting."
"Most definitely. You're at my mercy now, babe." He rubbed cookie dough down her length, pausing to lick it from her nipple, then pulling it deeper into his mouth and sucking. When she squirmed, he pulled it deeper into his mouth and then nipped the end.
Then he put a large glob on her pussy and rubbed it in. Just when she could stand no more, he pulled back and knelt between her legs. "Had enough?"
Going insane with intensified desire, she squirmed. Tugging on her bounds, she quivered with sweet uncontrollable desire. She was truly at Cole's mercy. "Never."
"Oh yeah!" He leaned down and buried his face between her legs and licked the dough from her thighs, and worked his way up to her mons, paying deliberate, intense concentration to her clit. Lapping it with his tongue, and inserting his finger deep into her pussy, he gave her his undivided attention.
Quivering intensely, she arched her back. Her muscles strained against her bounds and she moaned loudly. "Don't stop now. Deeper!"
Just as her dam was about to burst, he pulled back again with cookie dough smeared across his face that was lit with a boyish grin. He climbed on top of her and with one smooth, gliding stroke into her pussy, his cock claimed her.
She gasped, writhing against him. When he pressed her into the mattress, he captured her lips and their tongues dueled. The cookie dough made their bodies slick so that they slid deliciously against one another.
He stoked a raging inferno inside her womb. The wildfire flamed through her veins. If she thought she had loved this man from afar, she was helplessly in love with him now that they had explored and worshipped each other's bodies and traveled to paradise together.
Bottle rockets shot through her, and then the giant fireworks finale rocked her. She dug her fingernails into her palms as she strained against her ropes.
His tongue mated with hers as he filled her completely, trembling as much as she was.
Finally, their passion subsided, and he released her from her bonds and she basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking, secure and warm in the circle of his arms. Her head fit perfectly against the curve of his neck, and she teased his chest with angel kisses.
Lifting her chin with his forefinger, he forced her to gaze into his still smoldering eyes. "That was incredible. I never knew it could be so good."
"Totally awesome," she agreed, joy filling her. She sniffed him, and smiled dreamily. "You still smell like cookies."
He kissed the top of her head. "I guess tomorrow night I'll have to see your sketches."
"I'll be sure to have more cookie dough ready." An impish grin spread across her face, and she licked more dough off his chest, delighted when he shuddered. She could get used to this.
"I wonder how cinnamon oatmeal would taste?" He pulled her atop him and his hands cupped her heavy breasts, his fingers kneading her nipples.
She swooned, her temperature skyrocketing again, as the velvety wet tip of his rock hard cock brushed her sodden pussy. "Luscious, I'm sure."
He winked mischievously. "I'll be sure to bring the handcuffs."
Cole scrunched his nose when it hit him---the ammonia and sickness scents of the hospital. They had to be the worst odors on Earth. He would never have made it as a doctor.
"There a problem?" Brad nudged him, his steps hurried and heavy. "We can't stay long."
Cole glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind the information counter. "Relax. We have two hours 'til the game."
Brad rolled his shoulders as if he had kinks in his muscles. "If we don't have nine players by starting time, we'll forfeit the whole tournament. Then those snakes in Pembroke Pines will take the championship."
The elevator bell dinged, and then the doors whooshed open. They stepped aside as two doctors, a nurse, and an elderly couple ambled out of the box. The old silver-haired woman jostled the plant Cole carried.
Cole stepped in and pushed "3" to go to the third floor. Brad clomped on behind him, shaking the contraption. Then they lurched up with a squeaky protest from the machine.
"Don't worry. We'll wipe the field with those turkeys." Cole hankered to see that big, shiny trophy in the Ft. Lauderdale precinct, too.
"We could come back after the tournament." Brad stepped into the hall and followed the arrows to room 323.
"We're here now. We won't stay long." Cole knocked on Archie's open door and peeked in. Cream-colored curtains were pulled around half of the double patient room. The nineteen-inch TV perched on the wall flashed images but issued no sound. Early morning sunlight cast fountains of light on the mountains of flowers, balloons and cards overflowing from every flat surface on Archie's side of the room.
"Anyone home?" Cole rounded the curtain without waiting for a welcome. He stopped dead when he almost tripped over Haley who sat beside the fallen officer, holding his hand and chatting. Since when had they been pals?
Haley glanced up startled, her clear, wide-eyed gaze clashing with Cole's.
He swore guilt flickered across her blue eyes for an instant. But why?
"Hello, Cole. Brad." She scraped back the chair and rose before leaning over Archie and kissing his weathered cheek. "We'll go out and do the macarena as soon as you're well."
Appreciation smoldered in Archie's gray eyes as he returned her kiss. "That's a date."
Jealousy, fierce and deep, flooded Cole. His hands itched to rip her from the other man's side. She couldn't seriously want to date that old bugger, could she? Not after their wild night of passionate lovemaking. Not since their souls had mingled and mated. She was his, and Archie had better not have designs on her.
"You find your mystery lady yet?" Archie pinned him with a curious gaze.
Haley's gaze bounced back to Cole, too.
But it was unfathomable, making him squirm. Damn! He didn't want Haley to know he was interested in another woman, also. He girded himself for questions, fury, jealousy, even a snide remark.
But she just froze, apparently drawing her own silent conclusions, possibly damning him.
"We almost got her," Brad said, smirking. "But she slipped out of our fingers again. Aw shucks."
Cole stepped on his partner's foot and glared at him as he gave the plant to Archie. In a gruff voice, Cole muttered, "This is from me, Brad, and Cindy."
Archie smiled, and then grimaced as he repositioned himself higher, his sheets bunching in his lap. "Dang hospital gowns won't close in the back. Give me a hand with the pillows, would ya?"
Haley and Cole grabbed the same pillow simultaneously and their fingers touched. Static electricity sparked at the juncture and she jerked back. Cole sizzled, but busied himself fluffing and rearranging the older man's bed until he was comfortable.
Uneasiness still hung in the air and Cole wondered why. When he'd parted from Haley two mornings before, he'd left her with quite an erotic kiss and the promise of many more. There'd been no anger, nothing bad. Yet now, she acted skittish, guilty and even suspicious. He racked his brain for any event that had happened since to cause her change in behavior. The only thing he could come up with was the mention of his mystery woman. She was jealous, unsure of him. That had to be it.
Unless she was guilty because she was interested in the ancient cop...
He suppressed a growl. He'd set her straight. A few kisses, kid gloves, and she'd be gazing at him with adoration in her eyes again. And he'd have to show her just what she meant to him, every night if necessary.
"Here, put this next to the cookies, would ya?" Archie held out the plant.
Cole did as bade, but the sight of Haley's cookies tortured him. Could they be from the same batter he'd licked off her? That she'd licked off him? His groin swelled unbearably, straining against his zipper. He took a cookie and nibbled it, remembering her exquisite flavor. Crumbs clung to his lips. Knowing Haley's steamy gaze was riveted on him, he licked them off slowly as he raised his gaze to hers. He made his message loud and clear. She was his, and they would be together, alone, soon, with just the cookie dough.
The air was so thick he could barely breathe. He didn't know if he could wait until after the games to ravage her again, to drink of her sugary lips.
Brad shuffled his feet and glared at his watch. "We have to get going. We have a tournament in an hour."
"I sorta figured you had a game else you all wouldn't look like bumblebees." Archie yawned and patted his mouth. "Win the game for me."
Cole hoped he could run in his present awkward position, hoped he could focus on the ball when Haley dominated his thoughts.
"Come on." Cole tilted his head toward the door. "Let's let the old man nap. We have a game to win." He shook Archie's hand and grinned. "We'll stop back soon."
Cole caught Haley's hand, linking his fingers through hers pulled her into the hallway. Firecrackers exploded through him, and it was all he could do not to haul her into a private room and bed her. There was no way he'd last through the day without making love to her. "I'll ride with Haley," Cole said in a ragged voice. "Go on without me."
Brad stopped, scowling. "We came in your car. That'll be a bit difficult."
Cole dug in his shorts pocket, pulled out his keys, and tossed them to Brad without warning. "Take my car."
Haley shuddered beside him, her breath short, her palm clammy. She squeezed his hand, curling her magical fingers around his suggestively.
Brad arched an eyebrow, closed his hand around the keys, and marched off, his cleats squeaking on the waxed floor. "If you're late, you're a dead man."
Yeah, yeah. Cole had heard the idle threats before. Of course, Brad took his softball deadly serious.
Cole noticed a cleaning woman emerge from an empty room with fresh sheets.
Um...fresh sheets and Haley.
Surreptitiously, he checked the room number against the patient board behind the nurse's station. The beds were empty and wicked thoughts overrode his logic. When the hall was clear, he tugged Haley's hand, pulled her into the room and closed the door behind them. He blocked the door with a chair and pulled the privacy curtain.
"You crazy? What're you doing?" She gasped, half-laughing, blushing profusely. Her accusatory gaze examined the room and then fell back on him. In a hushed whisper, she said, "We're not supposed to be in here."
"That makes it all the more exciting." Starved for her taste, aching to plunge himself deep inside her feverish warmth, to feel her squirm beneath him, he backed her against the bed until the backs of her knees pressed against the mattress. There was no time for guile or games, only seduction. Unable to stop himself, he plundered her lips with his kisses.
Against his lips, shaking with mirth, she murmured, "I thought you were into upholding the law."
"Right now, I'm much more interested in something else that's up." His cock chafed inside its prison, pressing against her, longing to get out.
"You're soooo bad," she hissed, tugging at his shirt while devilish delight danced in her eyes.
Obliging her, cracking a crooked grin, he lifted his hands high above his head and let her pull off the constrictive clothing. Then he returned the favor and lifted her shirt off.
He nipped her ear, and then ran his tongue along her lobe, reveling in her delicious shudders. "That's not what you were screaming the other night."
Ooh! He really was so very bad. How she loved it!
She pulled back enough to gaze up at him, batting her lashes coquettishly. "I thought you were too busy eating cookie dough to notice."
"Believe me, baby, I noticed." Feverish to feel her bare flesh, his hands freed her breasts from their bonds. Fascinated by her pert nipples, he rubbed one between his thumb and forefinger. Unable to resist a moment longer, he bent and suckled the other one. Around the intoxicating mouthful, he murmured, "So very beautiful."
Arching against him, she moaned and pressed her breast deeper into his mouth. She clung, rubbing her pussy against his cock. "I can't believe we're doing this."
Dragging her back against him, he tucked her against his heart, immensely pleased at the perfect fit. Lowering his head, he captured her lips and drank deeply.
She gasped into his mouth, exciting him beyond control. They fumbled with each other's shorts and when she slipped her hand around his cock, he scooped her up and deposited her on the nearest bed.
He climbed on the bed and pulled his shorts to his ankles, not taking them all the way off in case he had to redress in a hurry, and then he mounted her, grateful she already had her shorts down.
She was all pinkness, heat, and moisture, lustier than during their all-night marathon, and he couldn't resist the succulent hottie. He ran the pad of his thumb over her clit until she quaked with desire. Slipping a finger inside her pussy when she arched against his hand, he grunted with approval that her juices flowed hot and ready for him.
"Now." Her voice raw with emotion, her fingers wound around his throbbing cock and tugged it gently but insistently. "Stop teasing me."
She needn't worry about waiting another second as he was beyond stopping, incapable of rational thought. Wanting to pleasure his lady, to stoke her fire, he buried his face in her mound and licked her swollen, inviting labia, lapping her ambrosia. Her silky hair tickled his nose as she bucked against him. If they had time, he'd bring her to orgasm with his tongue first, and then again in several other ways, but time was short.
With great reluctance, he pulled away from her mons and feathered kisses up her flat stomach, to her gorgeous breasts and then enfolded her in his arms. "Tonight." Still tasting her fragrance on his lips, he traced her lips with his fingertip. She had such enticing, lovely lips.
Disappointment flared in her eyes. "Tonight? You're going to leave me like this? You should be locked up in your own jail."
He treated the minx to his sternest glare as he climbed on top of her and nuzzled his cock against her silken nest. Parting her swollen pussy lips with his cock, he murmured against her lips, "There's no way I can wait for this."
She spread her legs wider to welcome him inside and then wrapped them around him, squeezing him tightly to her once his entire length slid deep inside.
Heaven.
She sheathed him with her incredibly tight muscles as he pumped furiously into her. They didn't have time for long and slow so a fast burn would have to tide them over 'til he could languish in her love later tonight.
The bed creaked under their frantic rhythm as his cock drove deep into her with a wild, abandoned fury he couldn't control. He hoped no one could hear them on the other side of the door.
She stroked him and ran her fingernails down his back. Cupping his buttocks in her hands, she pulled him deeper into her. Opening her mouth wide, her tongue dueled with his.
Waves of rapture flooded him, and ravenous to spend all his seed, he plundered her pussy. When she quivered with lust, roman candles exploded inside him, and they clung to one another.
Her glasses tumbled off and for an instant, she reminded him of someone else. He stared at her for a moment, puzzled, but unable to explain the feeling of déjà vu.
A cold emotionless page from over the hospital's PA system woke him from his stupor and he shook off the disturbing feeling. Helping her up, he muttered huskily, "Come on, baby. We'd better get going before we're discovered."
She tossed him a saucy grin, and licked her lips slowly and deliberately. "Do we have to go to the game? I could whip up more cookie batter..."
He sat up and stopped her words with a lingering, demanding kiss. Against her lips, he mumbled, "Stop tempting me, babe. You know I could do this all day and night. But the team needs us."
She fluttered her flirtatious lashes, leaned forward and traced his swollen lips with her fingertip. "I need you more. The team'll survive. They're big boys."
With his last vestige of willpower, he hoisted himself off the bed. Without looking at her, he pulled up his pants and snapped them with a resounding closure. "Tonight," he promised, counting the seconds until she would fill him with rapture again.
She wriggled into her shorts, her cute fanny disappearing into them. He could swear she put on a show for him. How could he have ever thought her dull? Life would never be boring with such a temptress.
He wadded up the sheets, and then unmade the second bed so it looked as if housekeeping had overlooked the room. He avoided looking at Haley, at her swollen, obviously ravished lips, at her nipples straining against her bright yellow T-shirt, at those long, luscious legs that could clamp around him so tightly.
He swallowed a groan. He had it bad for her. She was a fever in his blood. Worse, she knew it, and he couldn't deny it. Not after this. Nor did he want to. He just wanted to stay in her bed, in her arms, inside her, loving her forever.
Stealthily, he peeked out the door, scoping out the hallway. "All clear," he called in a stage whisper, waving her on. He closed the door behind him, and captured her hand, unable to stop touching her. He hoped their team couldn't tell what they'd been up to, but if he had the same stars in his eyes that shone in hers, it was inevitable. He couldn't stop smiling either. God, he must look pathetic! He was a goner. Next thing he knew, he'd be trading in his cleats for a diaper bag, mowing the lawn every weekend, and walking a Great Dane.
Haley repaired her lipstick and combed her hair before starting the car. Her curls bounced around her face becomingly, the bright morning sun painting golden streaks through them.
"Lipstick won't hide the fact that you've been well and truly kissed." He trailed his fingertips teasingly down her arm as she drove.
"Stop that, or you'll make me wreck! Then you can't play with a broken---"
"Arm?" he interrupted, dragging her hand to his lips so he could kiss every knuckle. "Then I'll be on disability, and we can play in bed all day long, every day like you want."
She trembled and murmured huskily, "I had something else in mind. Besides, I'd still have to work. You'd be in that bed alone, all day."
"Ouch!" He released her hand. His groin tingled, and he covered it protectively.
Since he couldn't touch her, he studied her. For the life of him, she still reminded him of someone, and it really bothered him that he couldn't figure it out. At times, he almost made the connection only to have it fade, just out of his grasp, leaving him frustrated.
For a second, without her glasses back there, Haley had looked like his mystery woman. He peered closer, squinting. The two women were similar of shape and stature. Their faces were of a similar bone structure.
His gut clenched. Haley couldn't be his heroine in black, could she? That was impossible, wasn't it? For one, Haley had blonde curly hair and blue eyes. His Catwoman had long, silky straight, mahogany hair and milk chocolaty eyes. His Haley was the warm, Suzie-homemaker type, always baking cookies and visiting sick friends in the hospital, not the wild-child, avenging-angel type who raced around on motorcycles daring criminals and laughing danger in the face.
No, it had just been wishful thinking that his Haley and his mystery woman were one and the same. He sighed, praying the mystery woman never came face to face with Haley, or there could be hell to pay. But then he never knew when she would show up. For all he knew, she might make an appearance at the tournament today.
Haley pulled into the Mills Pond softball complex and parked. The field was large even by Ft. Lauderdale standards with six fields and huge floodlights that could be seen for miles along I-95.
"There they are." Cole pointed to their team warming up on Field Five. "We're in time."
Haley grinned. "Good. Brad won't kill you after all." Grimacing, she yanked on the safety brake.
Brad and Cindy waved to them, as they sipped from perspiring cans of beer. Cindy had pulled her long hair into a ponytail and looked like a ten-year-old.
Brad's softball cap sat low on his forehead, shading his eyes from the bright noonday Florida sun. He tapped his watch with his forefinger. "It's 'bout time, Fischer. What took you two so long? I've been here hours."
Haley veiled her eyes and drew pictures in the dirt with her toe, pretending she didn't hear the question. Her bright blush told its own story, however.
Cole tried to keep his expression and tone of voice neutral. He yanked Brad's cap over his eyes. "Chill! We made it in time. We stopped by the store, that's all."
"Col-ie!" Dwight yelled, waving his arms over his head as if he were a football referee. "You forgot to tell me about the tournament." Cole's father trotted up to them, panting from the exertion. When he reached Cole, he rested his arm around his son's shoulders. "If it wasn't for Bradley here, I wouldn't have known about it. You should thank your friend for filling me in, or I'd have missed your game."
Oh yeah, he'd be sure to thank Brad all right. Cole bit back a groan when he noted his father's neon pink shirt with a picture of himself sitting on one of his "thrones" with the title "Toilet King" in bold black letters underneath. His father lived to embarrass him. "Did you have to wear that shirt today, Pops?"
Dwight beamed and clapped him on the shoulder, almost knocking him over. "Thanks for reminding me, son. I'm your team's new sponsor. I have one of these for each of you. I'll just go get them so you can put them on."
Deep fear struck Cole in the heart. He'd be ruined. "No! I can't wear that. I-I mean that you shouldn't have gone to such expense and trouble---"
"That tweren't nothin'." Dwight dragged him over to the portable toilet and stood before it proudly. "Ta-da! Look!"
"Look at what?" Cole dreaded asking his father anything to do with promoting his business. Then he saw it---the huge Toilet King logo on the side of every portable toilet surrounding the fields.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" A tear slid from Dwight's eye and he sniffed. "I'm so happy your friend called and asked me to underwrite your tournament. And it's great exposure for the business since I'll be relocating to Ft. Lauderdale."
Cole smacked his ears and shook his head. He couldn't have heard what he just thought he heard. The gods couldn't hate him so much, could they? Brad was a dead man! It wasn't that he hated his father, quite the opposite, but the Toilet King embarrassed him to no end. He'd moved half a country away to escape it, and now it was going to follow him? How could fate be so cruel? He prayed he'd heard wrong. "What did you just say?"
"I'm moving down here. I put a down payment on a building and a house yesterday." He turned Cole to face I-95 and spread his arm wide. "Imagine this. We'll have father and son photos taken together. We'll be on Toilet King billboards all up and down I-95, and on every major boulevard in Greater Ft. Lauderdale--Miami." He wiped away another tear with the back of his hand. "It'll be so beautiful. I've always dreamed of this moment when my first born, my one and only son, joined me at the helm."
Oh, God! His dad couldn't do this to him. He'd never wanted to be heir to the toilet throne. One of his many younger sisters could surely be the queen. Just because he was the only boy in the family didn't mean he was the only heir. How could he get out of this without hurting his father? He searched his mind for a reason, aware Haley and his friends clung to his every word. "I-I can't be in advertisements 'cause I'm a cop. It's not permitted." Whew! He had slithered out of that one by a thread.
"Since you don't need to be a cop anymore, you can take your rightful place at my side. We'll be the most famous father and son team since George and George W.!"
Dwight guided him to his van and opened a large box of T-shirts with the Toilet King logo. "Here's one your size. I want to see you in it." Pride rang in Dwight's voice.
Cole climbed in the van and changed his shirt dutifully. "I really appreciate what you want to do. I really do. But I like being a police officer. It's who I am. I'm not ready to quit the force."
Dwight froze in place, a load of T-shirts in his arms. Disbelief clouded his eyes. "But you're the Toilet Prince! It's your legacy."
"Maybe when I retire from the force, I'll be ready to accept the reins. You're not ready to abdicate your throne yet anyway." Cole scrambled down from the van and faced his dad. "You're still virile, at the height of your prime. You don't seriously want me to take your position for a long time yet, do you?"
Dwight stroked his tri-colored goatee, puckering his lips, stretching them, and puckering them again. "I'm still quite a stud, aren't I?"
Dwight slid a sly glance at an attractive older blonde in the stands. He winked at Cole and thrust the shirts into his arms. "See that little filly over yonder? She's been giving me the eye ever since I rode in. I think I'll just mosey on over and give her one of my business cards and offer her a ten-percent discount on my special services. Be a good son and pass out the shirts to your team for your pa, would ya?"
"Sure, Pops," Cole said, resigned. His mind whirled. The Toilet King planned to take over the metropolitan area. He'd never hear the end of it at the precinct. His life would be a living hell. He shuffled over to his team, dreading passing out their new team shirts. He could just hear the jokes.
Brad met him halfway and snatched the shirts. "Get a move on, buddy boy. We'll be done with the game before we get our shirts."
That was the idea. Cole smiled tightly. "Have a ball."
He sought out Haley, needing her comfort. Looping an arm around her waist, he buried his face in her fragrant hair. "Let's run far, far away from here." Like Tahiti or the South Pole where no one had ever heard of the Toilet King.
She twisted around in his loose embrace and put her arms around him, leaning her cheek against his. "I think your father's sweet."
"Sweet?" Cole lifted his head and stared at his father who was flirting with the blonde. Sweet like a skunk. "That man is dangerous."
"He's cute." She teased Cole's lips with feathery-light kisses. "Like his son." She traced his jaw with her fingertip. "I wonder how you'd look with a goatee. I wonder if it'd be piebald, too."
"That's something you'll never find out, babe." Cole scowled, glancing at their teammates to see if they were watching. As tempting as her kisses were, this was not the place.
Brad snickered, and then pointed at the field. "If you don't mind."
Cole flipped him off. "Mind your own business."
His chin still itched at the horrid thought Haley had planted in his mind. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Only artists and old codgers wore goatees.
She pulled a frown, and then murmured against his mouth. "I bet it would tickle..."
"Nymph," he accused, sucking her lower lip into his mouth. "Don't even go there. We'll be here for hours."
"Excruciating hours," she agreed, gazing deeply into his eyes. Hers sparkled so incredibly blue in the bright southern sun that he almost drowned in their brilliance.
"No fraternization during the tournament!" Brad waved them over to the dugout. He tossed a shirt in Haley's face, so that she had to raise protective hands to fend it off. "You, put on your shirt. Chop-chop."
Then he pointed to Cole. "Yo, Toilet Prince. Warm up the pitcher. Blondie's warmed up enough."
Cole snarled at his ex-best friend. Through gritted teeth, he hissed, "Don't call me that." Under his breath, he grumbled, "Can't they come up with anything new?"
Haley stuck her tongue out at Brad. "Yes, Pharaoh." She winked at Cole and sashayed away, swinging the shirt jauntily.
A motorcycle putted up to Field Five's fence, capturing Cole's attention. His heart jolted and he was afraid to look up lest he see his mystery woman beckoning him. What would Haley think?
The engine idled and he forced himself to look up. Sure enough, a woman with long brown hair straddled the bike. Mesmerized, he stared, forgetting that a softball hurtled at him. It hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him backward and knocking the wind out of him. Stars swam before his eyes and his head thumped. He groaned as he struggled to sit up. "This can't be happening."
"Cole!" Haley rushed to him and knelt by his side. Her fingers shuffled through his hair, massaging his scalp, checking for bumps. "What happened? Can you talk?"
He rubbed the back of his neck as he stretched to his full height. "I, uh..." He almost choked on his words when the mystery woman sauntered toward them.
"You okay?" The brunette's gaze raked over him with curiosity but no other emotion, then clashed with Haley's. Although the woman's hair resembled the female crusader's locks, her face looked different. Yet it still looked familiar.
Haley's eyes widened, the early afternoon sun reflecting in them. "I don't know yet. What are you doing here?" she hissed, clearly unhappy the other woman had shown up.
Confusion flooded Cole. Did Haley know his mystery woman? Could she have been the one who fed the other one information about him? Puzzled, he couldn't figure out how the pieces fit together. "Do you know each other?"
The brunette flashed a bright smile and stuck out her hand. "I'm Haley's friend, Sher. Remember me from the other night?"
Which other night did she mean? "In the alley?"
Both women looked at him as if he were daft. Haley's eyes were masked as if she were angry. Mirth danced in her friend's eyes as her lips twisted.
"No, at Haley's apartment. I think you came up to see her sketches." Sher's brows wiggled. "I was throwing popcorn at the TV. Remember me now?"
Enlightenment dawned over Cole. Now he knew her face! "You had red hair, and it was shorter."
Haley gulped, her eyes even wider as she listened intently. Her blonde curls gleamed almost silver in the bright sunlight. She inched back, but remained silent.
Sher looked to Haley for guidance, fear shining in her eyes now, too.
He thought aloud, talking more to himself than to them. "How can your hair not only change color, but grow this long, this fast?" He ticked off the days since he'd been at Haley's apartment on one hand. "Your hair grew awfully fast in two days' time. Miraculous."
He stared at the bike, recognizing it as the one Catwoman had ridden.
Haley petrified before him, barely breathing, giving him the opportunity to search her face. Her glasses made it hard to see her features clearly.
"Take off your glasses," he demanded, the awful truth hitting him squarely in his heart. When she didn't move a muscle or even twitch, he reiterated his order, his voice practically a growl. "Let me see your face."
"Hey, Cole! I finally got the forensics report!" Eddie shouted. "You ain't never gonna believe who your mystery lady is. It's Hal---!"
"Haley," Cole and Haley spoke in unison, one voice furious, one voice sad and trapped.
Painfully, as if in slow motion, she removed her large frames, revealing her exquisite face. But it wasn't only her face. It was his mystery woman's face, except for the blue eyes and blonde hair. A couple of puzzle pieces were still missing. "You don't have an identical twin, do you? One with brown eyes and brown hair?"
Haley shook her head, her features suspiciously devoid of all expression. "No." Her feet shifted back and forth.
His glance strayed to Sher's hair, which he now noted, looked too perfect, too sleek to be natural. He'd never seen it under bright sunlight before and noticed how it did not have any highlights like natural hair should. He reached out and fingered it. "Is that a wig?"
Sher nodded and lifted her chin high. Her nostrils flared. Heat shot from her eyes. "I wear lots of wigs. So do other women. Is it a crime?"
"No, not a crime." Cole had no trouble envisioning Haley in the wig. It was a match. He didn't need a police artist to illustrate it for him to know without a doubt. "But a particular brunette wig could be evidence of impersonating a police man. Interference in official police business."
He reached out to touch the hair, rubbing a strand between his fingers, making a textile match. "Was that an admission that this is the same wig worn by a particular lady motorcycle rider who interfered in police business and who seduced me at the police masquerade?"
Haley licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. "So which am I in trouble for? Interfering in police business or seducing you?"
His gaze moved between Haley and Sher. "There's only one thing I can't figure out. How did you get brown eyes?"
"Did you ever hear the story of how David O. Selznick wanted Vivien Leigh to play the part of Scarlett O'Hara, but Vivien had blue eyes, not green? Scarlett had to have green eyes because that's how Margaret Mitchell had written her. But Vivien Leigh was the best one for the part..." Haley rattled on, obviously agitated, not making any sense to him, flailing her hands with a very Italian flair.
Cole couldn't follow her logic so he gazed at Sher for help, exasperation warring with fury. "Do you know what she's babbling about?"
"She means that David made Vivien wear colored contact lenses to play the part of Scarlett. Colored contact lenses. Get it?"
"Colored contact lenses? Of course!" Duh! Glaring, he smacked his forehead. He felt like ten different kinds of an idiot. Swearing under his breath, he turned back to Haley and kicked dust at the fence. As he stomped off, he muttered, "You made me out for a fool. How could you?"
"Cole. Let me explain..." Haley ran after him and put a restraining hand on his arm.
Laughing without humor at himself, furious with her, he wrenched away his arm. "Where'd you learn to ride a motorcycle like that? Or do karate? You must think I'm a real moron not recognizing you. You had your laugh. Find someone else to hoodwink."
"Where you goin', Fischer?" Brad yelled, chasing Cole as he marched off the field, his cleats tearing up clomps of dirt. "You can't leave now. The game's starting!"
Cole counted more than ten people on the team. They wouldn't forfeit. Then he changed his mind and returned to the dugout, steaming. He could release his aggression better with a bat and a ball. Heaven help the other team. He had no mercy left.
Haley spoke in his ear, startling him. "Please let me explain." She clung to the fence, standing on the spectator side of the field. What she was doing out there instead of in here with the team, he had no clue. But then he'd given up trying to figure her out. Some things, some women, weren't meant to be understood, and she was one of them.
"You had plenty of chances to explain. When did you plan to tell me?" His heart aching as if it had been stabbed with a knife, he glared. "In front of news crews? On our fiftieth wedding anniversary?"
"I've never heard you sound so bitter," she said sourly. "How do you think I felt?" She rattled the fence, her voice raising an octave, attracting the attention of their coworkers.
He swore under his breath and mouthed, "Not here." He didn't want everyone to know his private business. He had to work with these people.
Either she couldn't read his lips or she didn't care who heard her. "You can't deny you cheated on me with her. That you drooled over her."
What was the crazy woman talking about now? He frowned, utterly befuddled. Was she trying to drive him out of his mind? First with passion and now with this nonsense? He whipped off his cap, wiped the perspiration from his brow, and raked unsteady fingers through his short hair. "Drooled over who?"
"Her!" Haley shoved the fence with vengeance. "Ooh!" She paced back and forth, a feral gleam in her sky-blue eyes. "You know."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
She stalked up to the fence, her cheeks flushed and feverish. She was starting to look like a boiled lobster as well. "You toyed with me, Mr. Playboy Policeman. You lusted after that other woman, the exciting, beautiful one, while you pretended that I was the only woman in the world for you. While you made love to me. Now tell me who's a lying, cheating, son---!"
"Whoa! Timeout." He was painfully aware of all his buddies and half the secretarial pool getting an earful. "Can we take this somewhere more private?"
"Why bother? You won't listen." Pivoting on her heel, she strutted off, head held high, her shiny curls bouncing provocatively.
Thoroughly annoyed and frustrated, he followed her, ignoring the snickers behind him. "Haley, wait!"
She increased her pace, her cleats doing serious damage to the grounds in her fury.
"Hiya, Haley!" Officer Edwin Rodriguez smiled and winked at the perky blonde. Rodriguez hailed from the Kendall Police Department in southwest Greater Miami.
Cole wondered how they knew each other. Maybe she'd been rescuing other officers besides him after all? Jealousy surged through him, making his blood boil.
"Hi, Eddie," she practically growled, not stopping.
Her swaying hips enchanted him far too much for a woman he didn't trust any longer.
"How goes it, Hale?" Gus Pickering from the Boca squad caught Haley around her waist and swung her around as easily as if she was a cat.
The blond-haired cop looked way too happy to see her and was being way too familiar with her for Cole's liking. His fists clenched and unclenched. If the other officer didn't put her down in two seconds, Cole was going to let him have it.
"As well as can be expected under the circumstances," Haley said bitterly. "I'll catch you later. I'm all tied up right now."
"Sure, Hale. Call me and we'll get together. It's been way too long." Gus ruffled her hair after he put her down.
"Soon." Haley spied Cole following and lengthened her stride.
She bumped into another burly cop, this time Mike Matthias from the Margate PD. Mike gave her a big smooch on her lips, whooping for joy.
What in the hell was going on? How did Haley know all these cops from other precincts when she barely gave the time of day to the cops in their own precinct?
"How's the eyes doing, sweetheart? I got the guy who did that to you. I know it doesn't bring back your career, but for what it's worth..." Mike stared down at her from his towering height.
The dude must be at least six-feet, six-inches tall, making Cole feel small in comparison.
"Thanks." Haley sniffled, trying valiantly to dam the tears welling in her eyes, but a tear trickled down her cheek.
Cole couldn't stand it any longer. He had to know what was going on. If he thought she'd been a mystery woman when she'd disguised herself in all black with a brunette wig and brown contact lenses, she was even more of an enigma now. Closing the gap, he interrupted, "How do you know all these cops?"
Mike didn't smile at Cole, even though they were passing friends. Instead, he jerked a thumb at him and asked Haley, "Does he know?"
"Leave me alone, Fischer. Please." Her voice quavered. She shook her head, looking away from Cole.
"What aren't you telling me?" Cole roared. Something seemed seriously wrong. The tension in the air almost suffocated him.
Mike put a consoling arm around Haley's shoulder and glared at Cole. "Can't you see the lady doesn't want you here?"
He had been wrong to walk away before without knowing the whole story. Besides, he had been guilty of wanting two different women, even if they were really one and the same. He shook himself. He was beginning to think as crazy as she'd sounded a few moments ago. He ignored the large man and grazed Haley's soft cheek with his thumb, shuddering in response to her trembling. "Please talk to me, Haley. Explain to me."
She looked around, wary. "Do you honestly want to know about me? The real me? Not the mysterious, exciting fantasy you've been lusting over? The make-believe heroine of your dreams?"
Shock coursed through him. "Stop it! You don't think you're exciting or beautiful?" He stepped between the other man and his woman, shutting out the other guy.
She bit her lower lip and looked down at her feet. "No. I'm plain and ordinary Haley."
"Then why do you make my blood sizzle? You yourself, not you in disguise." He glanced up at Mike and toward where the other men she'd chatted with had been standing. "How come so many cops are drooling over you?" He turned her own words against her, hoping to draw her out. Putting his forefinger under her chin, he lifted her face to his, forcing her to gaze into his eyes. How he loved her deep blue eyes, bluer than the ocean at the Ft. Lauderdale Beach.
"They're not drooling over me," she admitted in a low, sultry voice that stirred his blood. "They're my pals from the Academy."
"The Academy?" What Academy? He peered at her face, searching for clues to what she meant.
"The Police Academy," Mike answered in Haley's place. "She was a born cop. Until that bastard injured her eyes."
Haley sighed deeply. "I sustained a head injury in the course of my training. Afterwards, I didn't pass the physical requirements. So I took a job as an administrative assistant at police headquarters instead. At least I'm still close to the action."
"Not close enough. Obviously you long to get some of the action." She'd been magnificent riding that motorcycle, especially jumping over the police cars, although a firing squad couldn't coerce him to admit that now.
That got a smile from her, albeit a small one. "I come from a long line of police officers. My dad's the police captain in our hometown up in Ohio. My older sisters and brother are police officers, too. I'm the only one that didn't make the grade."
Her smile turned wistful. "I dreamed all my life of being a cop. I don't fit in with my family anymore since I never will be one now. I'm the outsider."
He thought about his own father and how he didn't want to follow in his dad's footsteps, just the opposite of her. Life was strange.
No wonder she rode like the wind! She'd been trained by the finest.
Jealousy strafed Cole. Haley was buddies with all these macho cops. Just buddies? He glared at the giant, wondering just how well they knew each other.
"I've been looking high and low for you, son." Anger flaring in his gaze, Dwight bore down on Cole. "Tarnation! I spent a small fortune sponsoring this game, and you go play hooky. Git back there!"
Cole sighed. "I'm thirty-two, Pop, and I didn't ask you to sponsor us." He'd sooner cut out his tongue than wind up as a walking billboard for the family business.
Dwight glanced up at the tall man and held out a card with one hand and pumped the man's meaty paw with his other. "I'm Cole's old man, the Toilet King." He beamed at the portable toilets with pride. "Have you tried out our deluxe thrones? They're the best in town. Satisfaction guaranteed."
Cole groaned, curbing the urge to hide his face in his hands. Why couldn't his family be in the racecar business? Or even perfume?
"You'll feel like royalty when you sit on our thrones." Dwight gave his spiel and passed out his business cards to everyone that strolled by. He waylaid a curvy brunette, winking at her. "Would you like to test the merchandise, madame?"
That did it. "Pop! I can't take it anymore." One more minute of this torture and Cole would go postal. Grabbing Haley by the wrist, he dragged her behind him, anger in his stride. "Powwow. Now. In private."
"Where are you taking me?" Haley's voice climbed an octave, but at least she didn't struggle.
One of his father's deluxe thrones slammed open, almost hitting him in the face and a softball player from Pembroke Pines exited. "Haley-Smaley!" The carrot-topped slender man gave her a big smooch on the lips. "It's been an eternity since I've seen you. I figured you must've gone back to Ohio after the accident."
Steaming, Cole pulled her from the other man's arms, scowling. "Is there anyone you don't know here?" Before she could answer, he dragged her into the only private sanctuary in sight---his father's precious portable potties---and closed the door behind them, locking it. Stuffy, stagnant air threatened to overwhelm him, but it was superior to all the interruptions outside. Facing off against the angry woman stuck with him, the space so cramped her breath tickled his neck, he hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. "Go ahead. Explain."
Haley's glance slithered over the plain gray walls, and then pinpointed his face. She lifted her chin regally and shrugged. "I listen to the police band all the time---have ever since I was a little girl. After the Halloween ball, I heard there was an officer down and in danger, and I was in the vicinity. So I decided to help." She tucked her hair behind her ears and wiped perspiration from her brow. "It's that simple. I didn't plan to rescue you. It just happened."
"So, why didn't you identify yourself? Why keep up the disguise?" Someone banged on the door and rattled the handle. "We're busy in here! Go away!"
"For one, I didn't want to get arrested." She fanned her face, the apples in her cheeks fire engine red.
If there was a "for one", there must be a "for two".
"And?" His voice trailed off, prompting the real, deeper reason that hung in the air between them, the reason he longed to hear and was about ready to drag from her lips.
She finger-combed her hair, veiling her eyes with her lacy lashes. "Well, I, uh, had been in love with you for the past three years, and this was the first time you had ever really seen me, and I liked it." She looked up, humor nudging out the reluctant adoration in her eyes. "Plus, you get yourself in trouble a lot---you needed a guardian angel, so I elected myself."
Befuddled, he stared at her, trying to figure her out. "But you're jealous of your other self."
She cleared her throat, wrinkling her nose. "Sort of. I feel like Sybil, with two personalities---the beautiful, exciting, dangerous me that fascinated you---and the boring, plain, real me, whose name you couldn't even remember."
Shock waves rocked him. How could she think that? He cupped her cheek in his hand, gazing deeply into her magnificent eyes. "Stop that! You, Haley, are gorgeous and exciting."
She rubbed her face against his hand, looking up at him coquettishly. "Honestly? You'd really pick the real me who bakes cookies and watches a movie before bed every night, over a wild child who races around town on a motorcycle, rescuing you?"
A slow smile twitched his lips as he slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her inexorably closer. "That's the beauty of it. I don't have to choose between you. I get both all wrapped up into one exquisite package. I'm the luckiest son of a gun in the universe." He could still taste the wonderful cookie dough, and to his chagrin, his groin started to swell. Anywhere but here!
The sun radiated from her face, and her eyes blazed bright blue as she looped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. "My prince."
His eyes narrowed as he wondered if she meant to tease and torment, or flatter him. "Let's not use that word." Any mention of royalty reminded him of places like the one in which they hid.
"Okay, handsome." Her grin spread across her entire face, telling him that she had read his mind.
Was he that transparent? "You know you're beautiful? That the sun shines in your hair and the ocean rolls in your eyes?" He buried his face in her jasmine-scented curls. "You make a luscious brunette, too, but I like you best this way."
She lifted her puckered lips to his, hovering a hairsbreadth away. Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending him into a trance. "I could borrow Sher's red pageboy hair if you get tired of blondes and brunettes..." she murmured against his lips.
"Don't you dare!" He brushed her tempting lips with his, his hands kneading her tiny waist.
Merciless hammering rocked their domain. "You in there, son?" Dwight's worried voice infiltrated the plastic door. "Did you get locked in? Stand back, and I'll bust down the door."
"Don't do that! We're coming out." Cole had the almost irrepressible urge to exit with his hands high over his head. Now he knew how criminals felt.
"Thank God!" Haley reached for the handle. "I'm about to melt."
Cole suppressed a groan. He dearly loved his father, but he had the worst timing in the world. He'd just been about to propose to his lady. "Do you think she'd let us borrow her motorcycle again?" He wanted to get out of here and take her far away where no one else could find them, somewhere a million times more romantic than here. Perhaps his father had done him a favor this time after all.
"Maybe we should get one of our own." She purred against him, fluttering her lashes. "I'll wear my Catwoman suit if you wear your Zorro outfit."
"If you make the cookie dough..." If they didn't hurry up and exit, he was going to explode.
"Meow." She trailed a fingernail down his chest, stopping at the rim of his shorts. Her smoldering gaze raked over him knowingly, appreciatively, making him swell even more. "What flavor, love?"
Cole didn't know if he was on fire because of her seductive teasing or because it must be a hundred degrees in the tiny house.
Dwight yelled again, "You sure you're not stuck in there?" Cheering erupted outside, reminding them that the tournament waited. "I got a crowbar! I'll save you."
Cole sighed and opened the door, squinting when the subtropical sunlight struck him square in the face. He spanned his hands around Haley's waist and lifted her down beside him.
Dwight chuckled, stroking his goatee, a knowing gleam in his eyes.
"Excuse us, Pops." Cole linked his fingers through Haley's and tugged her behind him. "I have something important to ask her privately."
Dwight pouted, tagging after them. "Shucks. You mean you didn't propose to her in my throne?"
Haley sputtered, and hid her mouth behind her hand.
"Private means alone." Did he have to spell it out?
"Yo, Fischer! Get your ugly mug over here and bat!" Brad jumped up and down on the bench, practically doing cartwheels to get their attention. He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, a loud, piercing shrill.
Haley stopped, refusing to take another step. "You can't let your team down. Slug a homer."
Cole dropped a chaste kiss on Haley's upturned lips. "We have to talk."
"We'll talk," she promised, laughter bubbling in her voice. When he still hesitated, she pushed him toward the field. "Go, already, before Brad falls and breaks a leg."
Cole trotted to home plate and struck a batting stance. Looking over his shoulder, he was pleased to Haley and his father sitting, arm in arm, their attention rapt on him.
Haley beamed and pointed her thumb up. "Knock the ball to Cuba!"
Cole tipped his cap and blew her a kiss. Is that all she wanted? He'd hit the sucker to the moon for one more batch of her cookie dough and an eternity in her arms.
He tried anyway, but merely managed to slam the ball over the centerfielder's head. Bases were loaded, two outs hanging over their heads.
Cole turned on the steam as he ran, his heart pumping hard, his feet pounding the ground as the opposing team scrambled for the ball. He plowed around first, then second base.
"Run, Cole!" Haley shook the fence, cheering him on.
"Go home!" Brad waved him on, running beside him. "Run 'im in the dirt if he won't move!"
The catcher snarled at Cole, glove out to snap up the ball and tag him out, hogging the plate as the shortstop hurled the ball home. The umpire crouched low behind his protective gear. The crowd went ballistic. Dust boiled behind him. It was going to be a close finish.
Cole dove, chin tucked, teeth clamped tightly, and knees braced for a rough landing. He collided with the burly sergeant from Pembroke Pines, dodging the ball, and wiping his feet out from under him.
The heavyset man flopped onto Cole's back, knocking the wind out of him, and bruising his ribs.
"Safe!" The home plate umpire yelled, crossing his arms with a flourishing sweep in front of him. He straightened and clicked his silver hand counter. His sunburned skin peeled on his arms and legs, and white, gooey sunscreen protected his nose and cheeks.
Cole scrambled to his feet, grinning, unperturbed that red dust caked him head to foot.
Haley flung herself into his arms and kissed him full on the mouth. She felt warm and pliant in his arms.
After a long soul-shattering kiss, he swung her around 'til the world spun. He couldn't contain himself any longer. "Marry me? Make cookie dough every night?"
A hush fell over the field, and he remembered too late they had an audience. He hoped the cookie dough reference was lost on them. The women giggled and shouted, "Say yes!" Unrepentant smiles on their faces, the men shook their heads.
Tiptoeing, Haley whispered in his ear, her hands cupped around her mouth, "Cookie dough's ready and waiting. Five flavors."
His mind boggled and his body afire, he gazed deeply into her eyes. "That had better be a yes." His mouth watered. No way could he wait three excruciatingly long days until they could procure a marriage license to sample each flavor.
"Well?" Dwight shouted. "Is she gonna be my new daughter-in-law or not? I gotta super-duper deluxe, king and queen throne for your wedding gift. I'll even put it in for fifty percent off the normal installation fee."
"Answer the man," Cole roared.
Haley tapped her chin thoughtfully. "If I say yes, does that mean I'll be the Toilet Princess?"
Fear almost paralyzed him, but he couldn't lie. There would be no more deceit or disguises between them. From this day on, they would share everything if she agreed to be his wife. That included his legacy. "Yes." He wound his fingers through her hair and leaned his forehead against hers. "And when Pop retires, you'll be my Toilet Queen."
"Sounds like heaven, my king." She smiled seductively, teasing his lips with feather light but sizzling kisses. Fireworks burst inside him, making him forget everything but the incredible woman he drew into his embrace. He lowered his lips to hers, parting them seductively.
"So when's this prime little filly gonna become my daughter?" Dwight clapped him hard on the shoulder, pushing him into Haley, almost making him fall on her.
He growled from deep within his chest and grabbed Haley's hand, dragging her behind him. "We'll let you know soon as we decide."
"Hey, Fisching Pole! Yates! Get your buns over here on the outfield!" Brad yelled, half-laughing, half-scowling. "You're supposed to wait to celebrate until after we win."
Cole pulled Haley into the portable toilet again and locked the door behind them. He crushed her to him, lowering his lips to hers. "Finally! The things I have to do to get you alone."
Love and adoration blazed in her brilliant blue eyes as she gazed up at him, her mouth upturned and begging to be kissed. She stood on tiptoe so that her lips hovered just a fraction of an inch from his, slightly parted, tempting him to ravish her. "So long as we're alone."
"Alone with cookie dough would be even better..." Unable to resist the temptation a second longer, he plundered her lips, unable to drink his fill of her. His cock strained to get out and he couldn't think of a reason to keep it tied up another second. Game be damned!
She snuggled deeper against him, purring, driving him insane with wanting her. "Umm, you have a voracious appetite, my prince."
"Only for you."
The End
About the Author
Whether it's strolling through the worst slums of the Third World to serve the poor in her day job, marching in the Mardis Gras parade representing the US Air Force, falling off horses in the middle of riding competitions (while she's trying to impress a really handsome real-life hero), or spending unforgettable romantic afternoons on the sun-kissed Biloxi beaches, Ashley Ladd lives for romance and adventure.
Wanting it all, Ashley is not content to sit back and watch life pass her by. Her lifelong quest is to find the perfect hero, run faster than a speeding locomotive, stop speeding bullets, fly through the heavens---oops, that's her really top top secret identity. Like herself, her heroines often do crazy things like fall off horses at the worst possible moment leaving no choice but to laugh at themselves as they blunder their way through this, or far-distant, crazy mixed-up worlds. In the end, dreams come true, the handsome hero falls madly in love with the heroine, and all is right with the universe, crazy as it may be.
Ashley invites you to come sit a spell at her cyber home, read her oh-so-scintillating blog, and find out the latest news about her books, awards, and contests at: www.ashleyladd.com. She also loves to receive email from her fans at: chinara@aol.com
Ashley Ladd welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora's Cave Publishing at 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.
Also by Ashley Ladd
American Beauty
And Lady Makes Three anthology
Blessed Be
Carbon Copy
Civil Affairs
Price of Fame
Sex Kittens anthology
Discover for yourself why readers can't get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora's Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
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