still.
“Believe me, it makes more of an impression as a visual.” She paused, perhaps waiting for him to give her the green light to make a move.
She might as well be waiting for all the lights to turn green down Lexington Avenue. He had no intention of staring her down over the barrel of her gun.
Finally, she sighed. “It’s in my pocket.”
Smart woman. He stepped closer, fully prepared to pat down every inch of anyone who set foot in his center with a concealed weapon. The fact that the patting would be a pleasure in this case made no difference.
“Right or left?” He hovered a few inches away from her, catching occasional whiffs of her rose scent.
Her pupils dilated, darkening her brown eyes to near black. The heat between them ratcheted up a few degrees and Alec would be lying to himself to say it was just nerves.
“Right.” Her throaty voice scratched into an even lower register, the word pummeling his sense of caution into stark need. Desire.
He reached into the pocket, his fingers grazing her jeans through the thin fabric of her jacket. If she hadn’t been wearing clothes, the incidental touch would have landed a few delicious inches from the juncture of her thighs.
Sweat trickled down his back.
Fingers closing around a leather case, he retrieved what felt like a wallet. Counting himself fortunate to have survived the close encounter without her pulling a gun or him falling under her sensual spell, Alec stepped back and flipped open the leather billfold.
Revealing an NYPD badge.
“Shit.” The realization thundered through his brain with all the subtlety of a summer riot.
“You’re now a wanted man, Alec Messina.” Her words showered over him with stinging clarity. “I think you’d better come with me.”
2
VANESSA COULDN’T DECIDE what freaked her out more—the fear of Alec Messina pinning her the moment she reached for her weapon, or the definite twinge of magnetism that flared whenever he ventured into her personal space. As a loner cop with plenty of training on the job, Vanessa didn’t have much experience with either emotion—the fear or the attraction. She’d been functioning on clear, cold logic for so long now, she didn’t know how to deal with the sudden influx of heated feelings. Fear, passion, anger—they were always other people’s problems.
“You’re NYPD?” Alec didn’t study the badge, saving his scrutinizing for a slow appraisal of her person.
She stared right back, knowing instinctively she needed to give as good as she got with this man or he’d try to roll right over her. What she saw didn’t compute to a handsome man. His features were too strong and prominent, his nose too large and his eyebrows too thick. Yet somehow on him, with his oversize height and chiseled muscles, it all worked. Well.
“A detective, actually. And one of New York’s finest, at that.” Vanessa tipped an imaginary cap in his direction, hoping to diffuse the tension. “You’re wanted for questioning in extortion charges filed by your business partners in McPherson Real Estate Development. If you’ll just come with me—”
“A city cop. Un-freaking-believable.” He tossed her badge back with an easy flip of the wrist. “Are you on my uncle’s payroll?”
“Not unless you’re the mayor’s nephew.” She tucked her badge back into her pocket, struggling to follow his mercurial mood. He seemed more distant now, but she supposed that made sense given his family’s long-standing animosity for law enforcement. “But we can chat more about it on the way to my precinct.”
She jerked a thumb toward the door, more than ready to leave 172nd Street behind. If only she could get Alec into a squad car and down to the station, she could scratch this case off her docket and consider an old debt to Lieutenant Durant paid.
The pending extortion charges against Messina were more an FBI matter, but nothing formal had been filed yet. Alec’s business partners had just wanted the police to find him. Bring him home. She had no idea if their method of dealing with uncooperative associates resembled mob justice, but Vanessa knew she wouldn’t want to be in Alec’s shoes when he returned to Manhattan.
Then again, maybe he thought he’d just silence her now rather than risk being found by his family.
Not that he stood a chance.
“I’m wanted for police questioning.” He reached for a basketball in a wire bin full of sports equipment on the perimeter of the gym. “In other words, you don’t have jack to pin on me, but you think if I come down to the station for an hour you’ll be able to maneuver me into a confession with some good-cop/bad-cop antics, right?” He spun the basketball on his fingertip, steadying his elbow beneath the moving weight. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
Mesmerized by the old playground trick, Vanessa figured as long as his hands were busy with the ball, he couldn’t very well pull any surprise attacks. Unfortunately, the play of his deft, strong fingers didn’t do anything to stifle the unfamiliar tension still coiling through her.
“Don’t you want to clear your name? Let your business partners know where you’ve been?”
“If I wanted them to find me, I would have told them before now.” His free hand whipped the ball faster and faster until it became a blur of orange. “But thanks for letting me know about the trouble over there. I’ll get in touch with them soon and figure out something.”
“They’re pointing fingers at you.” She peered around the gym to make sure they were still alone. Keeping her wits about her around this man took enough of her attention without adding any hidden lurkers to the mix. His students had all filed out onto the street earlier, but she knew there were other entrances to the building. Had in fact scoped them out before she’d insinuated herself in the self-defense class.
“I’m cheating my own company out of money?” He stopped the ball in midspin and tucked it under his arm. “Makes me wonder why I’ve been busting my ass for nine years to build a good business.”
“Maybe it’s all just a misunderstanding.” She didn’t care how things settled out, she just wanted to do her part and get it over with. “If you could come down to the police station—”
“No.” He invaded her space, leaning close to get the message across. “Not gonna happen. You’ve got a pretty badge there, lady, but for all I know you’re as crooked as small-town politics.”
“You’re related to one of the biggest mobsters on the eastern seaboard and you’re afraid I’m crooked?” Didn’t that beat all? “If you’re so concerned, why not just call the police station and have them send a car for you? We can have someone here in ten minutes at the most.”
A perfectly logical plan to circumvent his concerns. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem convinced.
“Look, I’m not going to the police station on principle, even if I thought you were for real and you threw in a full body massage on the ride over.”
“Not in this lifetime, Al.” She lingered over the shortened version of his name he’d been using to hide out in plain sight for months.
