Читать книгу Falling for You - Heather Macallister - Страница 10

MEGAN ESTERBROOK STARED at her computer screen. The nerve! Her squeak of outrage alerted Gina, a fellow policewoman whose desk faced hers.

In answer to Gina’s arched eyebrow, Megan opened and closed her mouth inarticulately, then pointed a finger at her computer monitor.

“What?”

Megan stared at the return e-mail address and felt her hands sweat and her heart pound. How intensely annoying. Not trusting herself to speak, she jabbed her finger at the computer screen again.

From where she sat, Gina couldn’t see Megan’s screen. After walking around the desks, she stood next to Megan’s chair. “Barry.”

“Yes!” Megan hissed. “He e-mailed me!”

“So I see.”

Gina apparently failed to understand the depth of Barry’s perfidy.

“How can Barry Sutton just expect me to ignore the fact that he’s the reason I’ve been banished to a desk for months?”

“Hit the delete key. Problem solved.”

Yes, that would be the logical thing to do. Megan could pretend she never got it. E-mails went astray all the time. And yet just the appearance of Barry’s name made her heart pound harder than it ever did with her police work. Maybe that’s because she was trained for police work. Nothing had trained her for Barry.

“Megan?” Gina prompted. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know.”

“Deep breaths.”

“I know.”

“Now hit delete.”

She made it sound so easy. “I—”

Gina leaned over, her finger headed for Megan’s delete key. Megan grabbed her wrist.

“Megan!”

“I know he’s only e-mailing me because he wants something.” And not because he’d suddenly developed a grand passion for her, she didn’t say aloud. And from Gina’s expression, Megan figured she didn’t have to.

“And you know what happens when Barry asks for favors?”

“I give them to him. And bad things happen,” Megan recited in a monotone.

“Very good. Delete the e-mail.”

Megan stared at Barry’s name. “How can he make me feel guilty when he’s the one asking for a favor?”

“Because that’s what he does.” Gina spoke in slow, measured tones—her “talk them off the ledge” voice. “He is an expert. He’s like a legit con man. You’ve studied them. You know how they read and manipulate people.”

Megan nodded, her eyes never leaving the “Barry Sutton” on the e-mail. “You know he has different smiles?”

“Most of us—”

“Not like Barry. I know he’s practiced them and cataloged them. I’ve watched him watching other people. Then he’ll paste a smile on his face and approach them. You see, he always smiles first. He decides how he’s going to appear. He can make himself have dimples, or not. He regulates how much of his teeth he shows. It’s never spontaneous. And once you respond to him, that’s the smile you always get. You know what mine is?”

Gina carefully shook her head. Her eyes had widened slightly, as though she thought she was dealing with a crazy person. Maybe she was.

Megan continued anyway. “I get the single-dimple smile with the slightly lowered brow. A pseudo-private smile, as though there’s something between us that no one else knows about. Then, after I helplessly blab everything he wants to know, he takes one side of his mouth down a notch and flashes the other dimple. And then he winks. I hate winking. Hate it. But he’s always turned away by then. Once I told not to wink at me and he just gave me a double-dimpled smile and said he knew I loved it.”

Gina stared at her. “Have you been practicing your Barry aversion therapy?”

“Sort of.” It just made Megan think of him more.

“Now would be a good time.”

She was really lucky Gina was being so patient with her. Megan felt so gullible and so stupid and so silly and so weak when it came to Barry. But Gina said everyone had weaknesses. She, herself, couldn’t speak in public. Appearing on camera the way Megan had—before her reassignment—made Gina freeze up. Megan had seen Gina in action, or nonaction, so she knew it was true. It was Gina, who had studied psychology, who’d helped her devise the Barry aversion therapy.

Megan slid open her desk drawer and withdrew a set of lined index cards. On each was written one of Barry’s transgressions.

“Read one aloud,” Gina instructed.

Megan drew a breath. “He smiles at me even though he knows it makes my face go all red.”

“What is it with you and the smiling?”

“People will think there’s something going on between us!” Megan defended herself.

“Oh, please. Get over yourself and give me that card.” Gina took it and tore it up. “There are plenty of other more serious consequences to dealing with Barry, and you know it.” She pointed to the stack of cards. “Write another one—write that his requests for special treatment disrupt your peace of mind and affect your work.”

“They don’t affect my work!”

“Have we not just spent ten minutes obsessing over Barry?”

“It’s not obsessing.”

Gina nodded toward the computer. “Delete the e-mail.”

Megan swallowed. “I…should read it first.”

Gina leveled her stern policewoman’s stare at Megan. “Deep breath. Read the next card.”

Megan inhaled and exhaled. “Barry called me in the middle of the night—”

“At your unlisted home number.”

Megan hoped that Gina wouldn’t ask how Barry got her unlisted home number. “He knew I would be asleep,” she continued, “and took advantage of my grogginess to trick me into giving him the mayor’s meeting schedule, which then confirmed that the mayor was meeting with out-of-state candidates for the new assistant police chief.” An echo of the anger she’d felt then calmed her pounding heart now. Hey, this aversion-therapy stuff might work.

“It was a dirty trick, but it was very clever,” Gina commented.

“I still should have been prepared.”

“He woke you up at one-thirty in the morning! On purpose!”

“He had a deadline.”

“You are not defending him.”

Megan stared at the card. She was defending him, drat it all. “Okay. You’re right. Thanks, Gina. I can handle things now.”

“You’re deleting the e-mail?”

“I’m going to write a refusal before I open and read it.”

“Megan—”

“Gina.” Megan stiffened her spine. “I have no business deleting e-mails unread. If I do, then he is affecting my work. I have to be able to deal with him when I’m department spokeswoman again. This is good practice.”

Gina gave her a look with just a touch of pity in it, then headed back to her own desk.

Pity, huh? Megan brought her fingers to the keyboard, mentally composing a polite, yet firm, very firm, refusal, when another e-mail from Barry popped up with the subject line Need urgent favor.

The sinking feeling she tried to ignore told her that she’d been hoping the first e-mail might be a let’s-get-together-for-coffee e-mail. Which would be a prelude to a dinner or a movie or a night of wild monkey sex.

No!

She did not think that way ever. Certainly not about Barry. Okay, she would not think that way about Barry ever again. Gritting her teeth, Megan tried to type a scathing reply to the as-yet unread message, but her hands had been sweating and SDeR B Atty was all she managed to type.

Oh, fine. Sighing, she opened the e-mails and discovered that he wanted her to run a license-plate number for him. He was interested in a name and whether that name dinged any police bells.

Although cops had been known to do so, accessing the Law Enforcement Information Network outside the performance of official duties was totally against the rules and Megan wasn’t in a position to break any rules. She typed back a naked No and hit Send, feeling strongly virtuous.

The feeling lasted for a couple of seconds before she realized she’d made a tactical error.

“Oh, no.”

“What?” Gina asked.

“I shouldn’t have answered him.”

“You answered him?”

“I said, ‘No.’” Megan’s e-mail was already chiming. “But now he knows I’m here.”

“What did he want?”

“For me to run a plate.”

Shaking her head, Gina pointedly looked at her monitor. “I didn’t hear that.”

“It’s okay that you heard it. I’m not going to do it.”

Gina didn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m not!” Megan had to raise her voice over the sound of the e-mail chime. She turned off the sound.

She tried very hard to concentrate on her very important work—yes, the world would be a better place once she finished inventorying the True Blue pencils that the community relations department passed out to school kids. She was about to make a huge decision: The navy-night color was no longer manufactured so Megan had been given the responsibility of choosing a new color for their next order. It was important. It was. Every time elementary school students used their pencils, they’d think of the police. The blue—and yes, it would stay blue—color had to be strong, but not intimidating. She had a call into the Dallas Cowboys organization to find out what their shade of blue was called so the police didn’t duplicate it. But the police had gold lettering and the Cowboys had silver, so Megan thought that was enough of a difference if their only choice was the Cowboys’ blue—well, the point was, she was busy making important decisions here. She had no time to pay attention to Barry and his incessant e-mails.

They were coming at the rate of one a minute now. What a jerk.

And then three minutes went by without one and Megan was lured into looking at them and their identical subject lines: I’m sorry. Please?

Megan slumped. Honestly, for all the mental energy she’d expended, she should just—No. This was a test and if she gave in now, she would never be able to take a stand against him again.

A thought occurred to her and she grabbed for her phone and activated the instant voice mail. He’d be calling any minute.

She wouldn’t be able to keep her voice mail set that way for long, but Barry wasn’t stupid. He’d get the message and leave her alone.

She waited, then went back online to search the Internet for pencils.

She had three solid minutes to compare pencil colors and quantity prices before her e-mail icon flashed. The subject line read You’re not answering your phone.

Megan sighed.

“You could block his e-mails,” Gina suggested.

“I hate myself,” Megan muttered. “He just…just…”

“Pushes all your buttons?”

“Oh, it’s worse than that. I have special buttons just for him.”

Chuckling, Gina leaned down and when she straightened, she handed Megan a handful of change across their desks. “I could use a Dr Pepper right now. You could, too.”

“Yes. Dr Pepper. Sugar. Caffeine.” Megan stood. “I’m on it.”

“Why, thank you, Megan.” Gina grinned and pointed to her dimples.

Megan’s e-mail chimed.

“I thought you turned that off.”

“It turns on after you access it.”

“Oh, Megan.”

“I’m going now.”

“Good idea.”

Megan used the walk to the break room to clear her mind of Barry Sutton and his e-mails. The squad room was packed with officers and detectives. Why did he pick on her?

Because she was a soft touch, Megan thought, answering her own question. She had no business being a soft touch. She was a police officer. She was competent and in control.

Megan shoved quarters into the soda machine and took a restorative swallow as soon as she opened the can. Okay. Technically, Barry was harassing her. Therefore, she would send him an e-mail explaining exactly what the consequences were if he didn’t cease and desist because if she received one more e-mail, she was turning him in. Strong. Competent. No nonsense.

When she got back to her desk, there were fifty-seven e-mails clogging her in-box and they were now arriving every few seconds.

Megan sent her cease-and-desist e-mail and then waited.

They stopped.

“Quitter,” she muttered, almost disappointed. Twenty minutes later, Barry strode across the squad room.

BARRY DID NOT HAVE time for this, but apparently Megan was the type to hold a grudge and would require a little face-to-face intervention.

Frankly, he was surprised. Usually, getting Megan to cooperate was a no-brainer. She was refreshingly eager to please, so honest she squeaked, and had both freckles and breasts. Barry had figured out that she liked the freckles and didn’t know what to do with the breasts. She was the type of woman who felt they got in the way. And he supposed they did. They sure spoiled the line of her uniform. And he meant that in a good way.

She was sun-kissed cute, the type of girl a guy would ask to fill in on a Saturday softball game. Barry didn’t play softball, but he could appreciate her type. He’d decided her type was the adolescent pal who suddenly developed a sexy little body that she ignored and none of her guy pals could. The way to her heart was to ignore her womanly charms and treat her like a kid sister—somebody else’s kid sister. See, that kind of subtlety was the key to Barry’s success. If he treated her like his kid sister, then the male-female thing was not there. Somebody else’s kid sister, and the male-female thing could be there. It was that whiff of possibility that he put into the smile he reserved just for her.

Yeah, Barry thought he had her pegged and yet she wouldn’t answer her phone or her e-mails. He figured maybe he hadn’t groveled enough. For a straight arrow like Megan, being reprimanded had clearly cut deep. He should have acknowledged that.

That was a mistake on his part. He’d apologized repeatedly in the e-mails, and he also had back when he’d heard she’d been reassigned, but he should have made more of an effort. Flowers, or something. Except she wasn’t the flowers sort. Anyway, he’d been too preoccupied with his own situation to give it much thought. Now he knew he should have followed up with her so that he could have salvaged their professional relationship.

Barry learned from his mistakes. He wouldn’t make that one again.

Megan always spoke the truth. She was the best thing to ever happen to the Dallas police force—but she was dangerous to the media. Yes, she absolutely spoke the truth—as she knew it—and Barry suspected it was just a matter of time before someone exploited her.

Megan was too honorable to see dishonor in someone else. Some people might call that naïveté, but Barry admired her faith in her fellow human beings, even as he knew that he’d have exploited her long before now.

He wasn’t proud of that. Just realistic.

So when Megan didn’t respond to his e-mail entreaties, he knew this whole mess had changed her. He profoundly regretted that—and was surprised he hadn’t caught it on his previous trips back to the squad room.

Well, he was here to make things right, now.

And to get that plate run.

He scanned the room and discovered that the setup hadn’t changed since the last time he’d made the rounds here. He acknowledged the faces he recognized, acutely aware that his reception might best be described as “cool” and turned his attention toward Megan.

He caught a glare from what’s-her-name—Gina, the Italian who never smiled at him—and nodded at her before focusing on Megan. Slowly, he smiled their special smile.

MEGAN HAD BEEN half expecting him, but that still didn’t lessen Barry’s impact on her psyche. She gave up trying to ignore him and just propped her chin in her hand and watched him sail around the islands of clustered desks in the squad-room sea. He was headed for her. The smile clinched it, if she’d had any doubt.

She might as well enjoy the view.

It wasn’t that Barry was stunningly handsome, it was that he was interestingly handsome. His nose was on the large side, as noses went, but it fit his face, due to his strong jaw. There was watchful intelligence in his eyes and Megan doubted she’d ever seen a genuine, uncalculated emotion in them.

She allowed herself a tiny exhale. This crush she had on Barry was so annoying. She was to the point of wanting to throw herself at him and let him use her until he tired of her, which was extremely unhealthy. She wouldn’t do it in a million years. But she wanted to, which was bad enough.

And her crush had obviously distracted her to the point that she’d let slip some crucial piece of information last fall. She had gone over and over what she’d said to him during that fateful press conference. That part had been taped. But afterward, reporters had approached her and, because Megan knew they were doing their jobs and because she didn’t have anything to hide, she’d informally answered a few questions.

To be honest, she’d known Barry would be one of the reporters to approach her. He always tried for the extra bit of information. It was a pathetic way to be closer to him but her pathetic heart craved it because for some unknown pathetic reason, he brightened her pathetic life. Pathetic, that’s what it was. Utterly pathetic. Like the way she was watching him right now. Pathetic. He was watching her, too, and knew the effect he had on her. She’d seen that particular smile often enough that she could see behind it sometimes. Right now, satisfaction was behind it. He thought he had her. And maybe he did.

For pity’s sake, the man even looked good in fluorescent light! She didn’t have a chance. She was Custer at Little Big Horn, Napoleon at Waterloo, the Titanic kissing an iceberg.

He wore his standard uniform of sports jacket and tie, which should have looked out of place in these days of casual attire but didn’t. He covered the casual aspect with a perfectly fitted pair of jeans.

Without breaking eye contact, Megan slid open her desk drawer, keeping her note cards at the ready. She didn’t actually have to read them, but it was a good idea to have them in sight.

“Hey, Megan.” He approached, his aura brightening the drabness of her desk area.

“Barry.”

Hands in his pockets, he tilted his head to one side and gave her the other half of her smile—and she hadn’t even done what he wanted yet. This was a first. She waited, and yes, here was the lowered head with the just-between-us look. The wink was next. She hoped he wouldn’t wink at her. It was so fake. So contrived. People didn’t wink in real life. Well, other than gangsters winking at little girls in white-lace dresses just after giving them ice-cream cones. Or old men and really, really young women who were blond and really, really stacked. Or cowboys. Cowboys winked, come to think of it.

But Barry was none of those things and, therefore, not entitled to wink.

Megan should look away—specifically toward the drawer with the note cards.

Since she couldn’t look away, she should at least say something. Anything. Anything to head off the wink. But what was there to say?

Barry winked.

“Don’t do that,” Megan burst out crossly.

“Don’t do what?”

“Wink.”

“You like the wink.”

“No! I don’t!”

“Sure you do.”

“No, really. I hate winking. It makes you look smarmy.”

He gazed at her, looking fake-affronted. “Smarmy? As I understand the definition of smarmy, I am not smarmy. I am anti-smarm.”

“Then don’t wink.”

He leaned forward, just a little bit, but most definitely crossing the invisible bubble of her personal space. “It’s okay that you like it.”

Megan gritted her teeth, drawing on all her public-appearance experience. “I do not like it. It makes me feel patronized. Belittled. Suckered.”

Barry’s face went blank. Honestly, he looked like a living computer reprogramming itself. She must have convinced him and now he was updating her file. Megan Esterbrook—delete wink.

He gave her a considering look and plucked a rolling office chair from a nearby empty computer station, twirled it around and straddled it, crossing his hands along the back and resting his chin on top.

They were now eye to eye and his were blue and crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He was studying her. Analyzing her and figuring out his next approach. Look at him—not even bothering to hide what he was doing.

Megan tried to keep her expression blank, but she could feel her face heating up and knew it was a lost cause. At least could she try to hide the fact that she had this enormous thing for him? No, apparently not. Honestly, this crush of hers qualified as a disability.

“Why are you just now telling me you didn’t like the wink?”

“I told you before. You didn’t hear me.”

“You could have told me again.”

“You never stuck around. It was smile, wink and poof.” She snapped her fingers. “You were gone.”

“Next time I’ll wait before poofing.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she was determined not to give in. “Why are you here, Barry?”

But she knew. Might as well get this over with.

“I’m here in a public-service capacity. Your e-mail is down.”

“Yes. Someone spammed my in-box.”

He was still trying to read her and she was afraid he would read more than she wanted him to.

His face wasn’t exactly blank anymore. It had softened. Gentled. It looked honest, or as honest as she suspected Barry ever got. Not that he was dishonest, as far as she knew, but he didn’t reveal anything of himself. Right now, he was focused completely on her.

How often did that happen—a man focusing completely on a woman? On her? Who cared enough to make the effort to please her, never mind what for?

She wanted to melt. Actually, she quite possibly could already be melting—when was the last time she’d felt her toes? She just wanted to fling herself at him, and kiss him senseless. Since she’d knock over the chair in the process, she’d probably have a better chance of rendering herself senseless.

Megan knew Barry would never approach her in a sexual way. There were women far more approachable than she. Women who knew how to look like sexy women, not women who wore jogging bras under police uniforms.

If she didn’t stop thinking of him this way, she’d explode. Lust was explosive, wasn’t it?

Maybe they’d all find out pretty quick.

“You’re still mad at me.” He hadn’t changed expressions.

“What? Oh. I’m not mad at you as much as I’m mad at myself.”

“Don’t be. I’m not mad at myself. I did my job.”

Megan exhaled. “I didn’t do mine.”

“Yeah, you did. I had a couple of lucky guesses.”

“It was more than luck.”

“Luck and experience.” And he gave her a wry smile—one corner of his mouth twisted and then he pressed his lips together. It was uncalculated. A genuine Barry expression. Wow.

And it got to her. She was going to have to sit on her hands or she would grab him and kiss that mouth.

“Run the plate for me?” Still the wry smile.

Damn it! He’d seen how she’d responded. Oh, great. That was going to be her new smile, she guessed, unless she put a stop to it right now.

“No.”

“Please?” His voice was husky. Intimate. Dangerous.

“Hey. We’re not allowed to access the program just on a whim. I could get into serious trouble here and I don’t have to remind you that I’m already in serious trouble. I spent six months on desk detail. Even now, I’m only being sent to schools and giving safety lectures to neighborhood groups. I—”

“I’m covering the Shipley-Hargrove wedding. The groom is not where he should be.”

Megan straightened. This was serious. A civilian was reporting a crime and she’d—

“Stop the panic.” Barry grimaced. “I’m working on a hunch. The groom didn’t like being photographed and then he takes off with the best man who was driving a standard-issue surveillance van. I have the plate number. I just wondered if he’s okay.”

“Are you talking…kidnapped?”

“I don’t know what I’m talking. This is a big-deal wedding with some big-deal guests.” Barry reached into his jacket breast pocket. “Here’s the wedding guest list. If I can’t know names, just tell me if the name from the plate is on the guest list.”

There was a loud clearing of a throat. Gina raised her eyebrows.

Megan had forgotten about Gina. She’d forgotten about everybody. Except Barry.

“Is this man bothering you?” Gina asked.

“Give me a break, Gina,” Barry murmured.

Gina leveled a look at Megan and opened and closed her desk drawer.

Right. Megan turned to him. “If you feel a crime has been committed, then you should report it to—”

“No way.” Barry stood. “You’re the officer I’ve approached.”

“But it’s not my duty—”

“Don’t you guys have to follow the Hippocratic oath?”

“That’s doctors, and stop interrupting me.”

Barry sat back down and wheeled his chair next to hers. Leaning forward, he spoke in a voice so soft that Megan had to lean in close just to hear him. Not exactly a hardship.

“Megan, I’m a desperate man. It’s been seven months since I’ve been allowed to cover hard news. I’ve been stuck in lace-covered, sugarcoated, rose-scented hell. I think there’s hard news here and I don’t want the story going to anyone else.”

Megan opened and closed her mouth.

“I’ll let you know everything I find out. You’ll be the spokeswoman again. Let me make it up to you, Megan. Let me make it right.”

The man could charm bark from a tree. The thought of representing the Dallas police once again made Megan’s mouth water.

“Just a name.” She turned away so she wouldn’t know if triumph flashed in those blue eyes or not.

He was entitled.

After a few moments, she had information. “The van’s registered to a Sterling International.”

“Never heard of them. Got an address?”

“A PO box.”

Barry took out his notebook. “There’s gotta be a street address for deliveries.”

Megan punched a couple of buttons. Info was pretty skimpy on Sterling International. “No street addy that I can find at this level.” She waited because she knew Barry was going to—

“Then go to the next level,” he ordered impatiently.

“Megan—” Warning sounded in Gina’s voice.

“Everybody just calm down.” Megan took a breath and released it. “I’ve already been to the next level. Nada. I’m not authorized to go any farther, so I’ve Googled it. Wanna see?”

Barry rolled his chair right next to hers. He still wore the same light cottony sea-breezy scent and whether it was from the soap he used or a fragrance he applied, Megan knew it was chosen to be on the pleasant side of neutral.

Or maybe it was just fabric softener.

“Scroll.”

Megan scrolled. Barry whistled and pointed. “Click that one.”

Megan clicked. A garishly dark-colored over-the-top warning page appeared on her monitor.

“Click past that.”

“Now wait a minute—it says my computer will be traced and the police will flag it.”

“You are the police.”

“All the more reason—”

“Come on, Megan.” He barely whispered it.

His breath teased the hairs on her neck. She shivered and clicked, then leaned back and let Barry take control of the computer mouse. “That’s one of those conspiracy theory Web sites.”

“Hmm.” He was clicking faster than Megan could read.

“You know, Sterling isn’t that unusual a name. You probably have the wrong one.”

“Maybe.” Barry sat back and checked his watch. “Well, this is all very fascinating, but I want to check out Sterling International in person and see if I can find the groom. Since we don’t have a street address, I’m going to go to the post office where this box is located and check out the area.”

Megan closed her eyes. She should just wave him away. But she didn’t. “Hang on and let me try something.”

She could feel Gina staring at her, but didn’t glance up.

And then she could feel Barry looking at her. Not watching her screen, but looking at her. She didn’t glance up for him, either.

Megan had to search several commercial property lists before she found what she was looking for, but she finally did get an address for Sterling International.

She wrote it down on one of the True Blue for You notepads she gave out when she spoke at schools. “Try this. It’s from census archives. It might not be any good, but at least it’s something.”

“Thanks, sweet cheeks.” And he kissed her. Right on the cheek.

Megan stopped breathing so she could fully experience the brief encounter with Barry’s lips. There wasn’t a lot to experience.

Barry, already on his feet, bestowed her one-dimpled smile on her and Megan braced herself.

So did Barry. With an amused shake of his head, he stood, waiting for a response.

Megan reluctantly waggled her fingers at him and he responded with a two-fingered salute before striding through the squad room.

It was probably going to be their new routine. Megan sighed and noticed Gina watching her.

“Oh, be quiet,” she muttered.

“Did I say anything?” Eyebrows raised, Gina continued typing.

Megan stared at the index cards in her open drawer and sighed. She was hopeless. Utterly hopeless. Rather than banging her head on her desk, Megan withdrew a blank card and wrote, “Give in.” If nothing else worked, she might as well keep her options open.