passion had been spiders or balloon animals. All Paula was interested in was a good time with no strings attached. Unfortunately, along with his deepening malaise about the job, he’d lost his old spark with women. Not that he didn’t like them, he just wanted someone who could talk to him after. And not, for God’s sake, about the job.
As for meeting other women, civilians, he always meant to get on top of that. Go to some lectures or book signings. But he never knew when he was going to get a call, and when he did finally make it home, he’d bury himself in a book, or, as was happening a lot lately, sleep.
“Bax, baby. How’s it hangin’?”
“It’s hangin’ just fine.”
She poured herself a cup of joe, then put the pot back on the burner. “I heard about what happened to Miguel. Bad luck.”
“Clumsiness,” he said, getting the pot back out to pour himself a cup.
“So, who you gonna partner with?” She leaned against one of the lockers, making sure her impressive breasts were given their due.
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“That’s right. You’re leaving soon. Shame.”
“Why a shame?”
Her red lips curled in a smile that had the subtlety of a wrecking ball. “Ah, come on, Bax. You know I’ve always thought you were a hell of a cop.”
“Of course you have,” he said, not believing her for a second. Not that he wasn’t a good cop—he’d never compromised on the job no matter what. He wouldn’t start now, either. He might be leaving the force, but he’d go out with pride.
“Not to mention you’ve got the best damn ass in the precinct.”
He sipped the coffee, surprised that it tasted pretty good. “My ass and I thank you for the kind words. But now we have to go back to our desk and get to work.”
She sighed dramatically. “It just breaks my poor heart. Such a fine-looking man. Such a waste.”
“You could have any man you wanted, and you know it.”
“Not any man.” The lips turned to a pout. “Not you.”
“You’re not missing a thing,” he said, meaning it. “Not a thing.”
IT WAS JUST PAST TWO in the morning and Danny Austen was a no-show.
Jenna, Carlane and Mia had been hiding in the far corner at the big black circular bar at Erotique for over an hour sipping watermelon martinis and checking the door every five seconds. Before Erotique, they’d had a long, lingering dinner at Amuse Bouche, then they’d gone outside and hung out by the movie trailers. No luck finding Danny Austen anywhere.
“Can’t you find out what he’s doing?” Carlane asked. “Call room service. Maybe he’s upstairs.”
“We didn’t see him go by and that’s hard to miss with all the uproar he causes. He’s probably working,” Mia said. “These movie people have such bizarre hours.”
“I don’t want to go home without meeting him.” Jenna checked the door again. “I don’t have another night off until next week.”
“The movie’s not leaving any time soon,” Mia said. “We’ll catch him later.”
“You don’t get it.” Jenna, who was in her early forties and one of the best concierges in the business, gave her a look. “I need to meet him now so he has time to fall completely in love with me before the shoot is over. Jeez.”
“Oh, that’s right. Sorry.” Mia grinned. “I have to say, he’s so much better-looking in person. So tall. And he’s got these really wide shoulders and those little tiny hips that are so incredible. It’s been very difficult to maintain my professional demeanor.”
“Your what with who?” Carlane finished off her drink with a flourish. “Honey, you drool just like the rest of us plebeians. We’re groupies, plain and simple. How pathetic that we’re so enamored of a freaking movie star. He’s probably a pig and a lout, but do we care? No.”
Mia frowned as she looked around the bar. She’d changed from her black tux and pink bow tie uniform into black jeans and a white peasant blouse. She’d even put on fresh makeup, and for what? If they did see Danny Austen she wasn’t going to talk to him. The last thing she wanted was to appear unprofessional. All she cared about was giving her friends a little treat. “There’s nothing wrong with having fantasies. In fact, it’s good for the imagination. Besides, I’ve practically forgotten what it’s like to be with a real man. I mean, who has time for dating?”
“Well, you never look,” Jenna said. “Honey you’ve got to lighten up. The world won’t come to an end if you think about something other than the job.”
“Hey, that’s not all I think about.”
Jenna raised her eyebrow. “Your mystery novel obsession doesn’t count. Nor do your puzzle collections, your trivia books, or the fact that you’d rather dig up bat hearts than go ogle Danny Austen.”
“Oh, come on. I’m not that bad. Besides, I do think about men. I just haven’t met one who’s worth the trouble.”
“Mia, sweetie.” Carlane signaled the bartender. “The right guy isn’t any trouble. Unfortunately, most of the men in this city are deviants or married or gay or all three.”
Mia sighed and they all just sat there for a moment, wallowing in the sadness of their pitiful love lives. “Okay,” she said, finally. “I’m going down to Exhibit A to see if they’re shooting. If they are, I’ll try and get you two in to meet him, okay?”
“Please,” Jenna said. “Give me something delicious to dream about tonight.”
Mia hopped down from the bar stool. “I’m on the case. You guys hold the fort, and if he walks in here while I’m gone, call me immediately.”
Both women saluted, and Mia strode off toward the elevator.
Amuse Bouche, the restaurant that was connected to the hotel, had closed at midnight. At twenty-till, there’d still been a line. The big draw, aside from the incredible food, was the outdoor patio. It didn’t hurt that the film trucks were still there, although most of them were parked on side streets or in the underground garage, or that there was an even chance of seeing really famous people walk by. Just ask the paparazzi. Talk about people who never slept. They covered the hotel front and back 24/7. She often wondered when and how they went to the bathroom. They sure as heck didn’t use the hotel’s facilities.
She got to the elevator and hit the down button, feeling her martini, but not too strongly. She probably wouldn’t have another. Maybe some water, just so she wouldn’t wake up with a headache.
She fished her lip gloss out of her pocketbook. After a hasty application, she put a mint in her mouth, got her small compact out to dust her nose, then checked her hair and eye makeup. Nothing was too dreadful, but she wasn’t going to pose for Vogue anytime soon.
By the time she stepped out of the elevator, she
