Тёмный Эдем. Начало. Патрик Карман
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don’t wink.”
He leaned forward, just a little bit, but most definitely crossing the invisible bubble of her personal space. “It’s okay that you like it.”
Megan gritted her teeth, drawing on all her public-appearance experience. “I do not like it. It makes me feel patronized. Belittled. Suckered.”
Barry’s face went blank. Honestly, he looked like a living computer reprogramming itself. She must have convinced him and now he was updating her file. Megan Esterbrook—delete wink.
He gave her a considering look and plucked a rolling office chair from a nearby empty computer station, twirled it around and straddled it, crossing his hands along the back and resting his chin on top.
They were now eye to eye and his were blue and crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He was studying her. Analyzing her and figuring out his next approach. Look at him—not even bothering to hide what he was doing.
Megan tried to keep her expression blank, but she could feel her face heating up and knew it was a lost cause. At least could she try to hide the fact that she had this enormous thing for him? No, apparently not. Honestly, this crush of hers qualified as a disability.
“Why are you just now telling me you didn’t like the wink?”
“I told you before. You didn’t hear me.”
“You could have told me again.”
“You never stuck around. It was smile, wink and poof.” She snapped her fingers. “You were gone.”
“Next time I’ll wait before poofing.”
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she was determined not to give in. “Why are you here, Barry?”
But she knew. Might as well get this over with.
“I’m here in a public-service capacity. Your e-mail is down.”
“Yes. Someone spammed my in-box.”
He was still trying to read her and she was afraid he would read more than she wanted him to.
His face wasn’t exactly blank anymore. It had softened. Gentled. It looked honest, or as honest as she suspected Barry ever got. Not that he was dishonest, as far as she knew, but he didn’t reveal anything of himself. Right now, he was focused completely on her.
How often did that happen—a man focusing completely on a woman? On her? Who cared enough to make the effort to please her, never mind what for?
She wanted to melt. Actually, she quite possibly could already be melting—when was the last time she’d felt her toes? She just wanted to fling herself at him, and kiss him senseless. Since she’d knock over the chair in the process, she’d probably have a better chance of rendering herself senseless.
Megan knew Barry would never approach her in a sexual way. There were women far more approachable than she. Women who knew how to look like sexy women, not women who wore jogging bras under police uniforms.
If she didn’t stop thinking of him this way, she’d explode. Lust was explosive, wasn’t it?
Maybe they’d all find out pretty quick.
“You’re still mad at me.” He hadn’t changed expressions.
“What? Oh. I’m not mad at you as much as I’m mad at myself.”
“Don’t be. I’m not mad at myself. I did my job.”
Megan exhaled. “I didn’t do mine.”
“Yeah, you did. I had a couple of lucky guesses.”
“It was more than luck.”
“Luck and experience.” And he gave her a wry smile—one corner of his mouth twisted and then he pressed his lips together. It was uncalculated. A genuine Barry expression. Wow.
And it got to her. She was going to have to sit on her hands or she would grab him and kiss that mouth.
“Run the plate for me?” Still the wry smile.
Damn it! He’d seen how she’d responded. Oh, great. That was going to be her new smile, she guessed, unless she put a stop to it right now.
“No.”
“Please?” His voice was husky. Intimate. Dangerous.
“Hey. We’re not allowed to access the program just on a whim. I could get into serious trouble here and I don’t have to remind you that I’m already in serious trouble. I spent six months on desk detail. Even now, I’m only being sent to schools and giving safety lectures to neighborhood groups. I—”
“I’m covering the Shipley-Hargrove wedding. The groom is not where he should be.”
Megan straightened. This was serious. A civilian was reporting a crime and she’d—
“Stop the panic.” Barry grimaced. “I’m working on a hunch. The groom didn’t like being photographed and then he takes off with the best man who was driving a standard-issue surveillance van. I have the plate number. I just wondered if he’s okay.”
“Are you talking…kidnapped?”
“I don’t know what I’m talking. This is a big-deal wedding with some big-deal guests.” Barry reached into his jacket breast pocket. “Here’s the wedding guest list. If I can’t know names, just tell me if the name from the plate is on the guest list.”
There was a loud clearing of a throat. Gina raised her eyebrows.
Megan had forgotten about Gina. She’d forgotten about everybody. Except Barry.
“Is this man bothering you?” Gina asked.
“Give me a break, Gina,” Barry murmured.
Gina leveled a look at Megan and opened and closed her desk drawer.
Right. Megan turned to him. “If you feel a crime has been committed, then you should report it to—”
“No way.” Barry stood. “You’re the officer I’ve approached.”
“But it’s not my duty—”
“Don’t you guys have to follow the Hippocratic oath?”
“That’s doctors, and stop interrupting me.”
Barry sat back down and wheeled his chair next to hers. Leaning forward, he spoke in a voice so soft that Megan had to lean in close just to hear him. Not exactly a hardship.
“Megan, I’m a desperate man. It’s been seven months since I’ve been allowed to cover hard news. I’ve been stuck in lace-covered, sugarcoated, rose-scented hell. I think there’s hard news here and I don’t want the story going to anyone else.”
Megan opened and closed her mouth.
“I’ll let you know everything I find out. You’ll be the spokeswoman again. Let me make it up to you, Megan. Let me make it right.”
The man could charm bark from a tree. The thought of representing the Dallas police once again made Megan’s mouth water.
“Just a name.” She turned away so she wouldn’t know if triumph flashed in those blue eyes or not.
He was entitled.
After a few moments, she had information. “The van’s registered to a Sterling International.”
“Never heard of them. Got an address?”
“A PO box.”
Barry took out his notebook. “There’s gotta be a street address for deliveries.”
Megan punched a couple of buttons. Info was pretty skimpy on Sterling International. “No street addy that I can find at this level.” She waited because she knew Barry was going to—