Dream Man

She pulled her head back so she could look at him. Her eyes were huge, and edged with panic. “What are you talking about?” she cried thinly. She was afraid, scared by the way things had so suddenly gotten out of her control, afraid of the proximity of his big body. She didn’t want this, didn’t want to have to deal with the memories and unpleasantness. For whatever reason, he had decided not to ignore the wildfire of attraction that they had both been fighting, and moved with bewildering speed to change their situation. There was nothing of the detective in him now; he was purely a man, his hazel eyes glittering with sexual intent.

He pressed his mouth to her temple. “In bed, babe. When we make love.”

She stiffened, pushing against his heavy shoulders as hard as she could. He didn’t budge at all. “No, I don’t want that. Let me go!”

“Hush,” he said firmly, gathering her even closer. “I’m just holding you, Marlie. That’s all. I’ve wanted to hold you since I first set eyes on you Monday morning.”

“There has to be some sort of rule against a detective making a pass at a suspect,” she blurted, searching for any weapon at all. “If you think I won’t report you—”

“You’re not a suspect,” he interrupted. His mouth quirked. “Maybe I should have told you sooner, but the officer who saw you Friday night gave you a pretty good alibi, since you couldn’t have been in two places at once.”

She went still, her attention focusing on what he had just said. Her gaze locked on his. Uncomfortably he realized that there was something oddly compelling about her eyes. “When did you talk to him?”

The even tone of her voice didn’t fool him. He winced inwardly. “Um … Tuesday night.” He should have lied. He shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place, at least not right now. He should have—

She bit him. He had been halfway expecting her to take a swing at him. He had to admit that he might deserve one, and he was willing to absorb a shot if it would make her feel better. Besides, the way he was holding her, he knew she wouldn’t be able to put much power behind it. Evidently she realized that, too, because she simply leaned forward and sank her teeth into his chest.

“Ouch!” he bellowed, startled by the sharp pain. She hung on like a bulldog, and the pain caused by his involuntary movement quickly convinced him to stand still. “Shit! Turn loose!”

She did, and regarded him with baleful satisfaction as he hastily stepped back and rubbed his chest. A wet spot on his shirt marked where she had bitten.

Gingerly he unbuttoned his shirt and took a look, expecting to see blood. It didn’t make him feel a lot better to discover that, though the indentations of her sharp little teeth were plain in his hide, there wasn’t even much bruising. “The professor said you were testy,” he muttered. “But he didn’t mention the cannibalism.”

“Serves you right,” she said. “You’ve been hounding me for two days when you knew I’d been telling you the truth.”

He looked a little sheepish, and continued to rub his chest. “I had to have some excuse.”

“To do what?”

“See you.”

“That’s supposed to endear you to me?” she asked caustically, turning away to pick up the canister of coffee and return it to the cabinet. “I’m not making coffee. You can leave now.”

“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“No.”

He folded his arms. “Then I’m not leaving.”

She slapped the countertop in frustration and whirled to face him. “Can’t you take a hint? I don’t want this. Whatever you’re offering, I don’t want it.”

“That’s a lie.”

Those hazel eyes were glittering again, this time with stubbornness. She had already noted that trait in him. It felt as if she had a bull in her kitchen, and couldn’t budge him.

“You feel it the same way I do,” he continued relentlessly. “You’re attracted to me, and it scares the hell out of you, because of Gleen.”

Her face closed up. “I don’t want to talk about Gleen.”

“That’s understandable, but I’m not going to let you hold him between us. The bastard’s dead; he can’t ever hurt you again. There’s too much pleasure in life to turn your back on it.”

“And you’re just the man who can show me what I’m missing, right?” she asked with heavy sarcasm. “Bet on it, babe.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back against the cabinet, holding herself away from him. “I’ve always hated being called babe or baby,” she observed.

“Fine. I’ll call you whatever you like.”

“I don’t want you to call me anything. Can’t you get it through your thick head, Detective? There can’t be anything between us, full stop, period.”

He grinned suddenly, and her heart gave a thump at the miracle it worked on his harsh features. “There already is something between us. Can you think of anyone else who makes you as angry as I do?”

“Not right offhand,” she admitted.

“See? I’ve been the same way. Since I saw you Monday morning, I’ve been in a hell of a mood, mad at you for being a suspect, mad at myself for being so attracted to you in spite of it.”

“Maybe we just intensely dislike each other,” she suggested.

“I don’t think so.” He glanced swiftly downward. “There’s evidence to the contrary.”