TOLD HERSELF that this man probably had no idea how badly his timing sucked.
In fact, she told herself repeatedly while she contemplated the added calories of coffee creamer and decided she’d rather not do the extra sit-ups required and she’d really rather not have this discussion with a man who’d caused her so much grief.
“You give yourself a lot of credit, don’t you?” She turned to face him, clutching her coffee cup and hoping her nosier colleagues could restrain themselves from wandering in for at least a few minutes. No doubt the whole place would be buzzing about her run-in with the man whose accusations had been her biggest obstacle to overcome in securing a spot on the force.
Damn him for showing up today when she should be formulating a plan to unearth a first-degree pervert who was filming girls in their home bedrooms and then mass-marketing their mistakes for public consumption.
“Honestly, no. I only asked because the incident seems like it’s not going away until we deal with it, and I’ve really got to talk to you about your new investigation.”
His sudden switch to seeming forthrightness caught her off guard even though that was exactly the same way he’d snuck under her radar long ago. She hadn’t known what to make of a direct man back then and she sure as hell didn’t know what to make of him now.
Everything about Sean Beringer was entirely too good-looking. He was the kind of man Donata had always avoided because she suspected a man like him would require far too much work. A woman who succumbed to an exterior that attractive would certainly spend half her time beating off other women with a stick. And—from a purely practical standpoint—a man like him would have to devote too much time to battling temptation continually waved under his nose.
He was tall, loose-limbed, broad shouldered. A hot body currently clothed in jeans, a Mets T-shirt and a long wool coat that a more discerning dresser would have paired with a suit. But the incongruity of the dress coat and the T-shirt did nothing to detract from the dark male beauty of deep-set hazel eyes under angular brows.
“What would you know about my caseload?” She sipped the coffee and wondered where Mick had gone. Shouldn’t her partner be in on this conversation? He probably even knew Sean since they’d no doubt crossed paths when they were both detectives.
“I’ve still got a crony or two I can call on when I’m keeping tabs on a particular case.” He leaned back against an ancient soda machine and watched her through his heavy-lidded eyes.
Had the ballistics guy—Vitalis, she seemed to remember—given Sean insider information? She’d seen them talking earlier when she first spied Sean, but she didn’t want to believe the firearms analyst would do anything remotely shady. He struck her as an upstanding guy despite his intimidating looks.
“And just what are you keeping tabs on lately?” She knew he’d had a special interest in her former boyfriend, a mobster type she’d eventually sold out when she learned what kind of person he was beneath the expensive veneer.
It had taken her a long time to see herself as more than a naive female who’d fallen for a Svengali-style lover in an effort to get away from a crappy upbringing. But she was more than that. Her record on the force proved it and no innuendo from Sean Beringer could make her think otherwise.
“An adult filmmaking outfit that packages their illegal webcam footage as reality porn. I heard an arrest was made out on Long Island last week after a girl was molested by a guy who contacted her on the Internet.”
Instantly alert, Donata was more than willing to put aside a good grudge against Beringer—temporarily at least—for the sake of her case. On a trip into Manhattan, Sara Chapman had indeed been molested by an older man she thought was a high school guy after a few online chats. Patrol officers had captured the perp without much trouble, but apparently further questioning revealed her molester had found her through her picture on a Web site advertising a reality porn DVD.
Her parents were devastated. Sara wasn’t talking.
“Are you working for the family of the girl?” She knew rich people sometimes hired outside P.I. help if they were concerned the police couldn’t get the job done.
“I’ve got a more personal interest. I’ve been following this case since you and I crossed paths four years ago.”
She waited for him to continue, but he just turned and snatched another doughnut instead, wolfing half of it down and showering the break room floor with powdered sugar.
“Obviously there’s more to this story if you’re still pursuing leads on a case this old. Why don’t I grab my partner and we can—”
“No.” Sean imprisoned her arm before she could turn away to find Mick. “Don’t you think we ought to work out the issues that are ours alone first before we go involving anyone else?”
His touch communicated to her more quickly than his words, the heat of his hand penetrating her jacket and warming her skin beneath. How long had it been since a man had touched her?
“Actually, no.” She pulled out of his grip and set her coffee aside to devote her full attention to the conversation. “Private discussions were how we ended up in trouble last time, remember?”
Her heart pounded strangely, making her hyperaware of her body and the heat simmering inside it.
“No problems with remembering here.” He held up his hands like a suspect trying to remind her he didn’t have a weapon.
Except that he did. Sean Beringer possessed a boatload of sexual attraction that Donata didn’t want any part of.
“Then why don’t you let me get Mick and we’ll make sure there are no more…incidents.”
It was tough to think with him standing so close to her and suddenly she wanted to flee as far and fast as she could. A stupid reaction since she was on a four-year quest to prove to herself she was a woman of strength and integrity. But nothing made her feel weak as quickly as attraction to a man.
“Did you really think I was sexually harassing you back then?” Sean’s forehead furrowed enough to let her know the idea bothered him.
“I—” She hesitated, not sure how to explain. “I thought you were hitting on me.”
Her pulse fluttered in her throat at the memory of being in an interrogation room with him. She’d been working as an informant for the FBI, a position that left her in uncomfortable limbo selling out the ex-boyfriend she’d grown to despise but still needed to stay with. She’d looked like a guilty mobster’s girlfriend to the outside world but inside she knew she was just a blind, stupid idiot who fell for a much older man with a worldly edge that appealed to dopey girls with no judgment.
“For the record, I would never hit on anyone in my custody when I was a cop, and I wouldn’t think of it now that I’m a P.I.” He backed away from her slowly, his dark eyes steady on her face. “I know I messed up your investigation with the arrest and I take full blame for not doing my homework where you were concerned. But I guarantee I’d never make a move on someone I arrested.”
Gulping down more coffee to clear her head of wayward thoughts, Donata wondered if Sean ever hit on lady cops he worked with. A wholly inappropriate notion. She seriously needed to think about finding a lover to take the sexual edge off for her before she combusted from four years’ worth of pent-up frustrations.
