Passion's Price. Gwynne Forster
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guest room is. Who knows what you’ll try to do?”
Darlene whirled around and headed for the stairs, intent upon finding the room herself, but he managed to move slightly ahead of her. “This way,” he said, turning left at the top of the stairs.
At the bedroom door, she tossed her head back, sending her hair flying around her face.
A grin spread over his face. “Don’t even think about it. That’s a thirty-foot drop. You’re clever enough to know that if you jumped, you’d hurt yourself. Besides, every window in this house is locked.”
Slouched against the doorjamb, Michael stared down at her. Then his gaze shifted from her eyes down to her lips and stayed there. His light brown eyes darkened. His nostrils flared, and he sucked in his breath.
“I don’t need you to chaperone me while I go to the bathroom,” she challenged.
Not a muscle in his face moved. “Why don’t you say what you really mean? Darlene, I could have you thrashing with passion one minute and handcuff you the next.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, moving toward him.
He folded his arms across his chest. “You’re reckless, but I’m not. You’re ready to do something stupid right now, and you haven’t given a second thought to the consequences.”
How many times had she heard those very words from her family? As usual, she ignored the advice. “What consequences?” she asked. “You’re a cop, and you’re obligated to behave like one.”
His laugh was barely more than a groan. “I’m also a man. And since I’m a cop, when it’s your word against mine, mine carries more weight. Get in there, wash your face or whatever else you plan to do and stop testing me. If I decide to take you up on your flirtations, you’ll remember it for a long time.”
“Really? I’d love to know what you’d do.”
“What you really want is to experience what I’d do to you,” he said.
Her jaw dropped. She wasn’t used to having anyone be so candid with her. Naturally, she flirted. But it was always harmless. She’d better be careful with this guy, she thought. Still, her mind wondered for a minute if Michael Raines would give her what she’d been missing.
“You’re an open book, Darlene, and that makes you dangerous.”
She looked at him and said, “Please at least go back downstairs. Your standing here is embarrassing.”
“Of course.” To her surprise, he headed down stairs.
Almost immediately after Darlene came back downstairs, the doorbell rang. Michael quickly reached the door to open it. He checked the deliveryman’s identification, accepted the food and reached into his pocket for his wallet.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Darlene said as she rushed to the door and handed the deliveryman a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change,” she said.
The man looked first at the money and then at Darlene. “It’s only eleven bucks, ma’am.”
“And I said keep the change,” she replied to the astonished deliveryman. He looked at the money again, shook his head from side to side, smiled and left.
Michael did nothing to restrain the grin that spread over his face. “I don’t like you, Detective Raines,” she said.
He laughed harder, then looked her in the eye. “That may be the biggest lie you ever told. Say you’re irritated or even furious with me, and I’ll believe you. But, damn it, you like me. And another thing. Nobody calls me Detective Raines except my mother. If you want a response from me, call me Mike.”
“But that’s what you said your name is,” she told him.
A scowl altered the elegant contours of his face. “It’s on my official title, but that doesn’t mean I like it. Call me Mike!”
“Since we all have to be here together, can’t we be friends?” Boyd asked in his soft, gentle voice.
“That would require civility on all of our parts,” Darlene said, mainly to annoy the detective. “I’m not sure that Michael is capable of that.”
“Oh, no,” Boyd began. “He’s always kind to me. If you don’t upset him, he’s very gentle.”
“Thanks, Boyd. You’re right,” Darlene said. “I’ve learned that you can calm a rambunctious child by tiptoeing around the little brat.”
He knew she was deliberately goading him, and he could give as good as he got, but he’d be damned if he’d let her know that she was getting to him. “I’m surprised that you have any children,” he said, disappointed at the possibility that she was married. “It seems a bit too much for you to have gotten a law degree, pursued a career as an attorney, hooked a husband and had children.”
From the change in her demeanor, he could see that he had hit a nerve. “What are you suggesting?”
He wasn’t sure, but it sounded like she was grinding her teeth. “What’s the matter?” He didn’t bother to suppress a roguish grin. “In over your head?”
“Michael, I’m twenty-nine. I have two degrees and no children.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’ve got a man? When does a busybody like you have time for a man?”
He’d upset her with that crack. It was over the line, and he wished he hadn’t said it. Her beautiful face seemed to lose its elegance, and even as he looked at her, her dark eyes lost their luster. He wanted to put his arms around her and…
“You’re trying to take my mind off the fact that you’re unlawfully detaining me.” She looked at her watch. “Damn! I should have taken my medicine an hour ago. It’s in my hotel room, and if I don’t take it soon, I could have a seizure.”
He threw up his hands. “Sure, and the Mississippi River runs right through Washington, D.C. I’m not falling for that. Besides, if it were true, you’d carry your medication with you. Try another tactic.”
“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked him. “No food, no feelings and no fun?” She grinned. He tried to ignore her. He was trying to protect her, as well as Boyd Farmer. If she walked out of that house alone, she’d likely walk into trouble.
“Before this is over, you may need my help.”
“Let’s all try to get along,” Boyd said. He looked at Mike, who didn’t seem interested. “Oh, by the way, would you please ask your relief to bring a can or two of deep-roasted Columbian coffee and a gallon of milk?”
Mike walked to the window, looked out and turned to Boyd. “I’ll bring the coffee and milk when I come tomorrow morning.”
Mike noticed Darlene’s sudden interest and figured that as soon as his replacement arrived, she’d try to escape.
“Don’t even think about it, Darlene. Cody Johnson won’t be half as nice to you as I am. If you try to pull a stunt, or even if you give him any lip, he’ll take you down to the station and let you cool off in the lockup.”
“But I haven’t done anything,” she said, her big eyes clouding with the threat of tears. Quickly, he turned his back to avoid feeling any sympathy if she began to cry.
“Then I suggest you cooperate.”
“Look. I’m tired.” She placed the tray that contained the remains of her lunch—hardly touched—on the coffee table and got up. “It’s been one long day.”
“If you need anything, let me know,” Boyd said. “I usually eat dinner around seven, so I’ll wake you up about six, and we can order takeout.”
“Thanks, Boyd.” She reached for her pocketbook.
“That stays right there,”