base. She would have shaken her head but she was afraid the movement would make her even dizzier then she already was.
“I’m listening, Cass. You can tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Well, gee thanks for the concern, Sam, but nothing’s bothering me.”
“Then why are you on that ledge?”
He looked so sincere, so worried for her safety that she felt a little silly saying it. “I came out for the Hermès.”
“Pardon?” He appeared confused and she realized the problem.
“I’m talking about the scarf.”
“What about the scarf?”
“It blew off my neck.”
As Cass watched, his face changed from earnest to perplexed. “Let me get this straight. You climbed out on a window ledge for a scarf?”
“Eight stories really doesn’t seem that high until you’re out here.”
He was looking at her as if she was the most foolish woman on the planet and actually right now, that’s exactly how she felt.
“It’s a Hermès,” she explained.
“For a scarf?” he repeated.
“A very expensive scarf.”
“Lady,” he growled, all trace of the understanding, considerate, suicide-jumper-talker-downer vanishing, “you’re nuts.”
“Gee, that’s not very nice.”
“What kind of shallow, narcissistic, materialistic, egocentric…”
“You can give it a rest. I get the picture. If I’m a jumper then you’re all sympathetic and helpful but if I’m just…”
“Blond,” he supplied.
She glared. “I was going to say rash.”
“This is way past rash and well on the road to foolhardy.”
Cass sniffed. He was right, but she didn’t have to admit it. “Apparently we don’t share the same value system.”
“Hell,” he said. “I don’t think we even share the same solar system.”
“Be that as it may,” she said snippily, “I did come out here and now I’m too nervous to climb back in, so if you’d be so kind as to please go find a nice fireman or policeman to come rescue me, I’d appreciate it.”
“I am a policeman.”
“You don’t look like a policeman.”
“I’m a detective. I don’t wear a uniform.”
She groaned inwardly and rolled her eyes. Just her luck. She’d drawn a cop who was a bad dresser with an attitude to match.
He held out his hand. “Come back in.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Every time I try to move I get dizzy and start to lose my balance.”
He eyed the ground and then cussed under his breath.
What? Panic shot through her. Did he know something she didn’t?
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Then why are you cursing?”
“If it weren’t for you I’d be having Starbucks and Krispy Kremes right about now.”
“Shoo,” she said, but didn’t dare motion with her hands. She’d already moved around too much. “Go on. Go shoot your cholesterol through the roof. Sorry to ruin your day.”
“Hang on. I’ll come get you.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“Tough. You’ve got it.” With that, he grimly thrust himself out the window and onto the ledge.
She felt his movements vibrate straight up through the concrete precipice and she tensed. He had a pragmatic way about him, the aura of a man doing his duty whether he liked it or not.
She didn’t like being his duty.
He came toward her as casually as if he were walking his dog in Central Park instead of traversing a ledge no wider than a shoebox. She stood in awe. Where had he acquired such utter self-confidence? He looked as if he owned the world and everything in it.
Including her.
Hell, it had even stopped raining.
He wasn’t at all like the well-bred, well-dressed men she normally hung out with. Cass’s breath escaped her lungs in a sharp, inexplicable gasp. A shiver slipped down her spine and she had no idea if it was due to the danger she was in or to the man heading for her.
His face was rugged, chiseled. His mouth determined. His eyes incisive. He was the sort of man who made a woman feel safe.
Since when have you ever opted for safe?
Uncontrollably, her gaze fell to the street. Since now. Her knees weakened.
“Look at me, Cass,” Sam, the sexy detective, commanded.
The fire trucks were a swirl of red, the crowd a muddle of melted faces. Her fingers cramped from holding on to the wall and she felt as if she was coming unraveled at the seams.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, she raised her chin and met his eyes.
“Atta girl. Hold on. I’m almost there.”
She’d never been attracted to rough-hewn, macho types before. Give her suave and debonair any day. Except right now, she was mighty glad to have him.
To distract herself she imagined him in a tuxedo at one of Isaac Vincent’s exclusive parties, drinking champagne and making idle chitchat with supermodels and fashion designers.
Cass was creative, but no matter how hard she tried that was one image that refused to be conjured. This guy belonged at a bar called O’Malley’s or MacDougall’s with a mug of warm beer in front of him and a knot of buddies chalking pool cues and making off- color jokes about the waitresses.
But she could see him as a proud Scottish pirate at the bow of his sailing ship gazing out at the new land he was about to pillage. Suddenly, in her mind’s eye, she was a maiden in that faraway land being captured by her conqueror and made to service him in so many shameful, pleasurable ways.
A vision of their entwined bodies muscled out
