New York's Finest Rebel. Trish Wylie
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‘Like wearing things that make them feel good.’ She shrugged a narrow shoulder. ‘I assume it’s how someone like you feels when they wear their uniform of choice.’
‘I don’t wear a uniform as a fashion statement.’
‘You’re saying you don’t feel good when you wear it?’
‘It’s a matter of pride in what I do.’
‘And doesn’t that make you feel good about yourself?’
She was smart, but that he’d known. Trouble was she wasn’t entirely right. ‘It’s not as simple as that.’
When her head tilted at an obviously curious angle, he lounged back in his chair. Since she’d given him the opening with the topic of conversation, he openly checked her out. ‘I take it the librarian look is in vogue now.’
‘It’s better than the mugger ensemble you’re wearing.’
Lowering his chin, he ran a large palm over the faded U.S.M.C. lettering on his chest. ‘I’ve had this since basic training. It has sentimental value.’
‘Wouldn’t that suggest you have a heart?’
‘Bit difficult to walk around without one.’
‘As difficult as it is to survive without sleep?’
Daniel stared at her without blinking.
‘Thin walls …’ she said in a soft tone that smacked too much of sympathy for his liking before she shrugged. ‘Try falling asleep without the television on, you might get more benefit from the traditional eight hours—especially if you’re watching something with that much yelling in it. What was it—horror flick of the week?’
‘You’re worried about me again? That’s sweet.’ Feeling sick to his stomach at how close he’d been to humiliation, he got to his feet. ‘Now I know you spend your nights with a glass pressed to the wall I’ll try and find something on the nature channel with whale song in it.’ When his trip to the door was halted by the brush of cool fingers against his hand, he looked down at her. ‘What?’
Dropping her arm, she avoided his gaze and shook her head. ‘Forget it.’
‘You got something to say, spit it out.’ He checked his watch. ‘I have an appointment with my boss in an hour.’
The statement lifted her chin again. ‘Because of what happened yesterday?’
‘Hardly the first time I’ve had my ass hauled across the coals for breaking the rules.’
‘You saved a man’s life.’ She shrugged her shoulders and looked away. ‘I’m sure that counts for something.’
She was reassuring him?
‘Not that you don’t deserve it for doing something so asinine,’ she added. ‘You could have placed other members of your team in danger.’
That was more like it. It was also pretty much exactly what he expected to have yelled at him in an hour. ‘We all do what we gotta do when the situation calls for it.’ He lowered his voice. ‘You should know that better than most.’
She looked up at him from the corner of her eye. ‘And there you go thinking you know me again.’
‘Did it ever occur to you that you don’t make it easy for people to do that?’
‘People who want to make an effort.’
‘And how many tests do they have to pass before you talk to them like they have an IQ higher than a rock?’
‘Stupid is as stupid does,’ she replied with a smile.
‘I take it back. If you’re quoting Forrest Gump at me you obviously need more caffeine.’ He placed an apologetic look on his face. ‘I’d get you some before I leave but I’m not allowed to buy coffee here.’
‘You’re the most irritating person I’ve ever met.’
‘See you later, babe.’ ‘Not if I see you first.’
‘Still rusty.’
He shook his head. ‘Keep practising.’
‘How’s the challenge coming along?’
‘Hmm?’ Jo blinked at her erstwhile roomie, a second night of interrupted sleep catching up with her.
He must have moved his bed after the conversation in the coffee shop. The yelling had been further away but, like the first time, when it came it was torture. She doubted anyone could hear a human being in that much pain and not feel the effect of it emotionally.
‘The challenge the magazine gave you?’ Jess prompted. ‘The one where you wear outfits from the centre pages to discover if different images change how people see you? I’m assuming that’s why you look like a French onion seller today. Not that the beret doesn’t work for you.’
Yes, she liked the beret. It was the kind of thing she’d have chosen herself, especially when it had a little touch of France to it. But since she wasn’t supposed to wear anything the magazine hadn’t chosen for her …
Lowering her chin, she idly rearranged the crumbs on her plate with the prongs of her fork. Wasn’t as if he would tell her what had caused the nightmare if she asked him, was it? That part of not pushing the subject she got. Where it began to get weird started with the fact she hadn’t felt the need to talk it through with his sister. His family cared about him. If he was struggling with something that happened when he was overseas they would want to help in any way possible. Not that he would make it easy. Trouble was she couldn’t forget how the colour drained from his face when he’d thought she knew.
It felt as if the man she had known and disliked so much hadn’t come home and someone new had taken his place. Someone she could empathize with and wanted to get to know better.
It was just plain weird.
‘Earth to Jo …’
‘It’s going fine,’ she replied as she speared another piece of cake with her fork and popped it into her mouth. ‘Mmm, this one …’
When she risked a brief glance across the table at the only person who knew when she was hiding something, Jo was relieved to find amusement sparkling in Liv’s eyes.
‘You said that about the last two.’
Jo angled her head. ‘Remind me again why we’re doing this with you instead of Blake?’
‘Because he’s more interested in the honeymoon than the cake we have at our reception.’
Fair enough. She reached for a second sample of chocolate cake. ‘I lied, it’s still this one.’
‘You know chocolate is a substitute for sex,’ Jess commented. ‘It’s an endorphins thing.’
‘It’s more than that,’ Jo replied. ‘You never have to worry if chocolate will call … it never stands you up … and it doesn’t mind keeping you company during a rom-com on a Friday night.’ She sighed contentedly as she reached for another sample. ‘Chocolate is better than sex.’
Jess snorted. ‘The hell it is.’
‘She’s young.’ Liv nodded sagely. ‘She’ll learn.’
‘If she tried having it occasionally she’d learn a lot quicker.’
‘She scares them off.’
Jo waggled her fork in the air. ‘Still in the room …’
It wasn’t her fault guys found her intimidating. With the kind of life experience that went beyond her twenty-four years, she was self-sufficient and hard-working with her focus fixed firmly on her career. If there was overtime available, she took it. Holidays people with family