Definitely Naughty

Maybe this was a test. It shouldn’t matter that he was an eleven while she was a seven. No reason to chicken out now. The truth was she was the kind of person whose looks improved up close and personal. In conversation, she was usually fearless.

She could use some of that bravura right now. A couple of deep breaths did squat so she threw back the rest of her vodka. The burn woke something up. This man was the answer to her problems and she wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip through her fingers.

Womaning up, she slipped out of the booth, squared her shoulders and began the long walk across the small bar. Three steps in, he looked at her. Just a glance at first, but his gaze returned a second later.

He couldn’t possibly know who she was. And still, the stare continued. As omens went, that seemed excellent.

“Aubrey,” he said, the moment she was in hearing range. It wasn’t even a question.

“Very good, Detective,” she said, stunned that her voice wasn’t three octaves higher because at this distance he was stupidly handsome. “How did you know?”

“The way you were looking at me, you were either Aubrey or dangerous as hell.”

“Who says I can’t be both?”

He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to change his mind. Instead, he grinned.

“So, what are you drinking?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t we find a seat?” He nodded at one of the waitresses. “I might want something to eat.”

“I’ve got us a booth, but they’re short-handed tonight, so I’ll get our drinks. It’ll give you a chance to look at the menu. I can personally recommend the sliders. And by the way, this is my treat.”

His smile had gone a bit crooked. “I’ll have a Blue Moon in the bottle, thanks. And I’ll open it at the table.”

She mirrored his expression, glad that he hadn’t objected to her buying the round. And impressed he was being careful about his drink. She’d never gone out with a policeman before, and she’d assumed he’d want to be all macho. “We’re the fourth booth down, the one with the hat and purse on the seat.”

“You walked over here without your purse?”

“It’s underneath the hat.” Turning away, she kept her shoulders straight, her head high. She waited until she was leaning against the bar to exhale a half dozen breaths at once. Paulo, her favorite bartender, showed up and she had him put Liam’s beer and her double vodka rocks on her tab. Drinks in almost-steady hands, she started back to the booth, but didn’t get far.

Lily, a friend from Pratt, body blocked her. “Who is that?”

Aubrey smirked, but in a nice way. “He’s kinda cute, isn’t he?”

“Please. I’d stab my own brother to have a night with him.”

“I happen to know you dislike your brother intensely.”

“What’s your point?”

Aubrey stepped to the left. “Too bad he’s taken,” she said, and yeah, that sounded bitchy.

No one else interrupted, thankfully, so she slid into the booth across from the heart-stopping cop.

“Thanks,” he said as she handed him his drink, but before she’d settled in, he hit her with a very different kind of stare. “Where’d you really get the card?”

She wasn’t shocked. Well, maybe at the timing, but not the question. “Did you call Mary?”

“I left a message, but it didn’t matter. I knew you were lying.”

“I kind of figured, but hey, it worked because you’re here and I’m here…. Besides, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“It looks like you somehow got hold of something that doesn’t belong to you and lied to me about it.” He unscrewed the cap on his beer and took a sip.

“Okay, it is what it looks like, but there’s more to it.”

He took another drink, but his wryly cocked left eyebrow signaled some serious doubt.

“Let me explain.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, his voice dipping into a register that made her toes curl. Sadly, his earlier amusement had left the building. She had a feeling his grip was already on his handcuffs.

Hmm. Handcuffs.

Not the point. She sipped her vodka and faced him with all the innocent earnestness she could muster. “It fell out of the sky.”

His expression changed again, this time to confusion peppered liberally with suspicion.

“The card,” she said. “It actually drifted out of the sky.”

He finally nodded. Took another drink, then said, “Um, are you off your meds, Aubrey?”

She laughed. Which didn’t illuminate the situation at all. As a cop he’d had plenty of strange encounters, everything from getting spit on by a guy in a Sponge Bob costume to talking down a hysterical woman who was about to step in front of the M train. But Aubrey, with her dark mass of unruly curls, too-wide mouth and cherubic cheeks, was something new.

Maybe it was her confidence that had drawn him in, or her smile, or the way she gleefully challenged him with her gaze. But he’d felt the pull the moment their eyes met. Weird how he’d known she was the one who had his card. Even weirder that he’d actually hoped it was her despite how obvious it was that she was nuts. But then he’d watched her walk to the bar in those towering red heels and tight black dress that was inches away from becoming a public indecency violation. He’d swallowed hard at her very womanly hips and a pair of shapely legs that he could all too easily imagine wrapped around his waist.

Admittedly, it had been a while for him, but he’d had more opportunities than most to take care of business if he’d just wanted to get laid. Sex had never been a problem. He was grateful for that, absolutely. But now that he was approaching thirty, he was trying to avoid letting his dick call the shots.

It wasn’t only his dick that found Aubrey intriguing, however.

“Look, I was at work,” she said, leaning toward him, her deep purple fingernails clicking on her shot glass. “I’m doing this Christmas window display for a lingerie store. It’s a major deal because I’m a nobody and you know what happens with Christmas windows in this city. For God’s sake, did you know that the window at Lord & Taylor is on a hydraulic lift so the whole thing can be moved to the basement? That the big players like Macy’s and Barney’s can spend over a million dollars on their displays?

“Anyway, my boss is kind of the Tina Brown of lingerie and the store was supposed to have opened ages ago, but there were all sorts of delays, so it didn’t open until October, but she needs the store to kill at Christmas, so I’m supposed to debut the window live on Christmas Eve Eve in front of reporters and bloggers from the New York Times to PopSugar…pretty much everyone who’s anyone, so you can imagine the pressure, right?”

Her hand slid across the table to land on his, which gave him a jolt that went straight to his cock. He nodded, although he’d barely understood half of what she’d said.

“I’ve done a hundred or more sketches and I’ve got nothing. Seriously, nothing. Nada. Zippo. And it’s almost three weeks until Christmas! There aren’t words to describe how freaked out I am.”

She paused, but only to knock back more of her drink. After squishing her face up into an award-winning wince, she took a deep breath and dove back in, her hand still on his.

“So tonight I walk outside, and this freaky wind almost blows my hat across the street. That’s when I see it. I had no idea what it was or where it came from until it fell, I bullshit you not, into my hand. No exaggeration. Literally into my hand.”

She held up said hand as a visual aid. He let out a surprisingly big breath as he pulled his own to his lap. “My trading card,” he said.

Pointing her finger at him as if she’d unequivocally made her case, she said, “Exactly. That doesn’t just happen.” She leaned back against the booth, her deep scarlet lips set in a firm line while her eyes danced.

Danced? He’d never had a thought like that before in his life. He grabbed his beer, somehow knowing things were only going to get worse.

“Okay, so, what I haven’t told you is the name of the store where I work.”

That was evidently his cue. “No. No you haven’t.”

She grinned, and leaned in again. “Le Muse,” she said, going full French accent on him. The way her eyebrows rose and her sly grin indicated that the name was significant. He had no idea why. “Uh-huh.”

“Le Muse, Liam. Le Muse.”

“Sorry, I don’t follow.”

Her clear frustration made him feel as if he should apologize.

“You. It’s you. You came down from God knows where and landed in my lap. Detective Flynn, you’re meant to be my personal muse.”

It took a minute to digest her completely insane idea. Then he had to go through it again, just to make sure he wasn’t hearing things. But no. She thought he was a mythical Greek goddess.

Definitely off her meds.

“Maybe I should take a look at the card,” he said. “Just to, you know, get a grasp on this.”

“Oh, sweetie. No can do. Not yet.”

“No? Why the hell—”

The waitress’s timing could not have been worse. “Sorry for the delay, but we’re short-staffed tonight.” She had her pen poised at the ready. “What can I get you guys?”

Liam had been starving when he’d gotten there, but Aubrey’d knocked the hunger straight out of him. All he could do was stare.

“I thought you wanted to eat,” she said.

He opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Aubrey said, “I’ll have the fried chicken sliders and another round, please.” She smiled his way and said, “You’re welcome to share.”

“What about you, gorgeous?” the waitress asked.

Huh. The way she looked at him, as if he were on the menu, made him realize he’d expected the same from Aubrey. But his looks didn’t seem to matter to her bewildering scheme. “That mac and cheese sounds good.”

“You got it. Aubrey, on your tab?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Uh,” he said, but it was too late. They were alone again. “You don’t have to pay for my food. Or another beer.”

“Yes, I do. I asked you here because—”

He held up a hand, not willing to be sidetracked again. “I believe you were going to tell me why you don’t want me to see the card?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, shaking her head as if the explanation wouldn’t have been necessary if only he’d been paying attention. “I’m assuming you know what a muse is.”

“Yes. How they relate to me in any way isn’t clear, however.”

“From the sky, Liam. Dropped from nowhere. Anyway, what a muse does is inspire creativity. That’s exactly what my problem’s been. Why I can’t come up with a great idea for the window. You fall into my hand like a gift, and in seconds I can feel my juices getting all stirred up.”

His reaction to that last comment wasn’t good. Not good at all.

“I knew it was destiny. The Fates, you know? There’s no law that says a muse has to be a woman. I mean, come on. That would be crazy.”

“Yeah. That part would be crazy.”

She didn’t actually say, “Obviously,” but she managed to get the point across.

“Not to put a damper on things, but I don’t think this whole muse business is up my alley. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

It was as if he’d taken away her favorite kitten. “You do realize my entire future is at stake. If I blow this window, I’ll never get another chance like it. My boss is one of the most connected people in the world. She could literally ruin me. Forever.”

“I don’t think—”

“Listen, you don’t understand. I can’t have you distracted by other dates, at least not for now. But don’t worry, this isn’t a long-term proposal. It’s just until Christmas Eve Eve. And it’s not even that hard. I mean, all I really need from you is lots and lots of sex.”

His next words vanished from his mind. As did most of his working brain cells. “What’s that you say?”

Chapter Three

She hadn’t planned out exactly how she would ask Liam for a one-night stand, but telling him she wanted “lots and lots of sex” might have been taking it a step too far. Although his rapid blinking and open mouth could also suggest a nail hit directly on the head. Or an imminent solicitation charge.

Instead of answering his question, she moved her right foot until it bumped against his shoe. Slipping off her heel, she shimmied up his pant leg until she found skin. One quick rub with her big toe made him blush. And stammer. But he didn’t move away. That took getting arrested off the table.

“Look, Aubrey…”

Feeling much more in control of the situation, she relaxed against the backrest and waited. She liked him flustered. She’d put that right at the top of her list of Fun Things to Do with Muses.

His jaw moved as if he was getting ready to speak, but it took a while for the words to form. “This is all very…weird,” he said finally. “You don’t really expect me to just jump on board with this, do you?”

“Why not? The offer’s legit. We can even go back to your place if it’ll make you feel better.”

His foot lifted, dislodging her toes. “This something you do often?”

“What, find a trading card floating from the night sky? No.”

“Asking men you’ve just met for lots of sex.”

“Not often. Only when it feels right. Haven’t you ever had a one-night stand?”

He cleared his throat, looked up and to the left. Ha, she knew what that meant, even if she wasn’t a detective. He was making up an answer right this second. “No. Okay, yes, but not usually—”

“Before snacks?” she said, interrupting. “No problem. I’ll wait until we’ve eaten to ask again.”

“That’s not—You do realize I’m with the police.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“You don’t—” He sighed. “I should have ordered something stronger.”

Aubrey contained her grin. While this part of the evening was turning out better than she’d hoped, she couldn’t wait to see how entertaining he would be once they were alone. She’d bet that blush of his went all the way down his chest. She’d also wager that he was right this second coming up with justifications for saying yes. Would it be better to help him out now, or wait a bit?

Their drinks were coming, so she’d wait. Give him time to get creative. It was clear he was hooked, even if he insisted on fighting with the lure.

“Why’d you become a policeman?”

“What?”

“Being a police detective isn’t the same as being a CPA or a math teacher. The decision can’t be a simple one. There’s a lot of political and social significance to the job, pro and con. Maybe you come from a family of cops? Or maybe a police officer had an impact on your early life?”

He closed his mouth. For a moment, he didn’t do anything but gawp at her. Then he drank from his beer, but there didn’t appear to be any left. When he put it down, it was very decisive. “Now you want small talk?”

“Small talk? I didn’t ask about the weather. A career is a big deal. The biggest, except for love.”

He sighed, and his very gorgeous jaw clenched. “Fine, now you want a deep discussion?”

She nodded. “The food’s going to take a few minutes. And I’m interested.”

Before he could respond, fresh drinks replaced the empties, and just as the waitress turned away, Liam jolted, stopping her with an urgent plea. “Wait.”

Tracy, whose nametag had somehow moved closer to her boob since her last visit, looked at him with a practiced pout. “Can I help you?”

“Whiskey. Double. Please.”

“We’ve got Bushmills, Concannon, Knappogue Castle, Clontarf, Jameson and Paddy. Any of those turn you on?”

He looked up at her, blinking again.

Aubrey reduced her tip by five percent.

“Bushmills. Thanks.”

“Welcome, honey,” Tracy said with a wink. She turned back to face the bar without giving Aubrey so much as a glance.

Ten percent.

“Sorry,” he said, his attention back where it belonged. “Why don’t you tell me about this big window display that’s got you so upset?”

“Well, all right, although you’ve already got the salient points. It’s a Christmas theme, naturally. And that makes it harder because, my God, everything’s already been done. The whole reason Yvonne hired me is because she saw what I did at this little boutique in Park Slope. That one cost virtually nothing. Just a few colored lights, and some borrowed hay.”

“You borrowed hay?”

She shrugged. “Not much. It worked, though. Because the pieces I chose for the display were all elegant as hell, a crystal chandelier, a silver tea set, clothes from the ’30s and ’40s. But good stuff, expensive stuff. I even had a legit Louis Quatorze commode that went to Christie’s afterward.”

“And the hay?”

“Oh, the backdrop was a barnyard. With real chickens and a goat. At least for a couple of days. Then it got too smelly.”

“That got you hired?”

“It worked. Completely. It was written up in the Post. I know, the Post, but still. My friends who own the boutique got a lot of business from that display.”

“Huh.” He drank some beer, stared at the saltshaker.

Holy crap, but his cheekbones were spectacular. Built to highlight his eyes, but also as a foundation for his amazing dimples and square jaw. His face could be an exhibit at MOMA and they’d sell all the tickets they could print.

Liam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed again. Didn’t meet her gaze. Her cue to dial it back a few notches. He was a muse, not a toy.

Tracy arrived with his double and the food, but to Aubrey’s delight, Liam didn’t give her the time of day.

Aubrey smiled at Tracy before she left, but the gesture wasn’t returned.

“I don’t know a lot about window displays,” he said. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

“That’s okay. We’ll talk more about the design as we go along.”

He exhaled heavily, his fork hanging loosely over the mac and cheese. Then he finally met her gaze with what she imagined was his getting-the-perp-to-confess-now look. “Did someone hire you to do this?”

“No.”

“Because if the idiots I work with paid you, just tell me. I’ll make sure you get your money. I swear. Then you can just give me the card back, and I’ll let the whole issue drop. Okay?”

“No one hired me,” she said, her happy mood cut off at the knees. “I’ve been completely honest with you.”

The music got louder, the room felt colder and time stretched as he looked through her. “Chickens and a goat?”

Everything tilted back to normal, at least on her side of the table. His half smile helped.

“Yes. It was all about contrasts and anachronisms.”

He ate for a bit, and she downed a slider. It was very good.

After he finished his appetizer, he shoved the plate to the center of the table and picked up his whiskey. “Lots and lots of sex?”

The last of her worries fled. “Yes.”

“How much is lots and lots?”

“Until I get the design right. I don’t know how long that’s going to take, although it can’t be that long because I’m on a deadline.”

He sipped his drink. Narrowed his eyes. “You said one-night stand.”

“Oh, well, it could just be one night. If you’re as inspirational as I hope. But I didn’t want to pressure you or anything.”

“I don’t have a creative bone in my body. Can’t draw, can’t carry a tune. I do my best writing on reports. I don’t even have a favorite movie. How can you possibly think I’ll be in any way inspirational?”

Aubrey leaned forward, put her hand over his. “You fell from the sky, Liam Flynn. Into my hand.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe not, but answer me this. Did you know that the placebo effect has been proven as effective as medication in many cases? That when sports figures find a ritual or good luck charm their stats improve compared to players who don’t believe in omens? That the concept of the muse as inspiration is as old as human history? Frankly, it doesn’t matter whether you buy it or not. I do.”

“Do you actually expect me to answer any of those questions?”

“No. Frankly, it doesn’t matter whether you buy it or not. I do.” She lowered her lashes and looked up at him. “There’s only one question that matters tonight. Will you say yes?”

Shit. He was going to say yes.

Aubrey was completely nuts. Which wasn’t the turnoff it should have been. In fact, he hadn’t been this intrigued by a date in a hell of a long time. He was confused, absolutely, but at least Aubrey wasn’t boring.

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