Читать книгу Sexy Ms. Takes - Jo Leigh - Страница 12

THE DOOR SLAMMED and Bella stared at the hand on John’s arm as if it belonged to someone else.

“Bella?”

She looked into his eyes again. “I don’t. I.” She let him go as her cheeks heated.

“I could have gotten the gun,” he said softly, as if he didn’t want to upset her. “I made sure you weren’t in the line of fire. There won’t be another chance. We’re stuck in here until tomorrow. Those two will get clean away.”

“Maybe they should,” she said.

“What?”

“He didn’t shoot you on purpose. You told me that. Or was that all bull?”

“Doesn’t matter. He shot a cop, Bella. In New York.”

“But you said it was an accident. Besides, it seems to me he’ll be more rehabilitated in Italy than he would be at Leavenworth.”

John shook his head. “And what about me, huh? How am I supposed to tell my captain that the man who shot me, my damn cousin, got away? You think he’s not going to assume I was in on it? That I gave him a pass? I’m already the laughingstock of the department.”

“Why?”

His gaze shifted before returning to meet her own. “My cousin shot me. That’s not enough for you?”

He was hiding something. She’d been a detective once in a play and part of her research had included learning the eye movements of liars. She didn’t understand the first thing about this insane family dynamic or what John’s motivations were. “You can tell your captain the truth. That you were hijacked and Sal skipped the country.”

“Yeah. He’ll probably clap me on the back and give me a damn cigar.” He shook his head as he went to the couch. “I had a good reputation before this. I was on the fast track. Now…”

She sat next to him and took his hand, not caring about the drying spots of blood left from his fight with Sal. “I can’t believe this one incident is going to ruin your future. We’ve just met and I know you’re a good detective. The people who work with you must know that, too.”

“No offense, but you don’t know anything about it.”

“Explain it to me.”

He looked at her for a long moment. Finally, he said, “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

Bella sat back—actually sank back—on the couch. She still didn’t understand why she’d stopped him. Self-preservation was the easy answer, but that explanation didn’t sit right. Something in her had changed during those few minutes of arguing. Not about Sal, God no. And while Vince was smarter, he was still on her shit list. Her reaction had been all about John. Maybe it was as simple as her not wanting him to get hurt.

“Hell, Bella,” he said, his voice low, his hand squeezing hers. “I’m just sorry you got caught up in all this. I hope you’re convinced that no one’s going to hurt you.”

“I’m leaning that way, but frankly I won’t be convinced until I’m safely at home. It would have helped, FYI, if you’d mentioned those two jerks were your cousins.”

He grinned. “That’s not an easy thing to admit. Besides, technically Vince is Sal’s cousin, not mine.”

She sighed and rubbed her temple. “I do feel better.”

“So why don’t you have something to eat, and I’ll fill up your wineglass. We’re here for the duration.”

Now that she wasn’t nauseous with fear, she felt she should eat something. “I’ll get out the rest of the bread and cheeses while you go clean up.”

He seemed a little surprised to see the dried blood on his hands and clothes. And a little pleased. He was such a guy.

NEW YEAR’S EVE IN a basement somewhere in Little Italy. Bella sighed as she broke off a hunk of bread, then laid it back on the cloth napkin it had been wrapped in. It was really fresh and smelled great. Wine, bread and cheese, a disgruntled detective, the world’s most horrible couch. Sadly, except for missing the audition, it wasn’t her worst NewYear’s Eve. Not even in the top ten.

Thank goodness there was another bottle of wine left. Her buzz was long gone, and she wanted it back. No matter what she’d told John, she was still scared. She’d be crazy if she wasn’t.

The bathroom door opened and a somewhat cleaner John joined her on the couch where she’d spread the napkin. “The bread’s good. They make it fresh every morning.”

She held up her piece. “It smells wonderful. I tend to live on salad and chicken breasts, so having no choice about eating carbs is pretty cool.”

“If Nonna saw you, she’d force-feed you for a month, at least.”

“You think I need to fatten up?”

He smiled at her. “I think you’re beautiful.”

A little flutter that wasn’t hunger danced in her tummy. “Thank you. I think you’re beautiful, too.”

He sighed. “Beautiful, huh? Great.”

“Oh, stop. I was being fetching. You’re ruggedly handsome and all man.”

“That’s better. If I didn’t have my hands full, I’d adjust myself and grunt.”

“Thanks for putting that image in my head.”

“Sorry.” He slumped and she could tell that he did feel sorry. For himself.

Something would have to be done. After all, she was stuck with him for the foreseeable future. More importantly, she understood. He was afraid he’d lost his chance. No one knew the feeling more acutely. She supposed his situation was worse. After all, he was a detective in the NYPD. He saved lives. Even if she’d gotten the part, it wouldn’t have saved anyone’s life but her own.

She studied him, not sure what her approach should be. Flirting had its merits, but in his current state she wasn’t sure it was appropriate. It wasn’t easy to cheer up a stranger. She had no idea what would bring him around. Alcohol seemed her best bet.

With his elbows on his knees, he bit into a piece of bread and chewed as if it were a penance. Not good.

She reached for her half-empty glass. “I think it’s time to crack open bottle two.”

He picked up the open Chianti and shook it. “Nope.”

“Great. Now all you need to do is catch up.”

He eyed his glass on the floor, still almost full. “You can have that. I’m not in the mood.”

“Get in the mood. The sun’s almost down, and since we won’t be going out dancing, or watching the ball drop in Times Square, we’ll need to entertain each other.”