Falling for You

So when Megan didn’t respond to his e-mail entreaties, he knew this whole mess had changed her. He profoundly regretted that—and was surprised he hadn’t caught it on his previous trips back to the squad room.

Well, he was here to make things right, now.

And to get that plate run.

He scanned the room and discovered that the setup hadn’t changed since the last time he’d made the rounds here. He acknowledged the faces he recognized, acutely aware that his reception might best be described as “cool” and turned his attention toward Megan.

He caught a glare from what’s-her-name—Gina, the Italian who never smiled at him—and nodded at her before focusing on Megan. Slowly, he smiled their special smile.

MEGAN HAD BEEN half expecting him, but that still didn’t lessen Barry’s impact on her psyche. She gave up trying to ignore him and just propped her chin in her hand and watched him sail around the islands of clustered desks in the squad-room sea. He was headed for her. The smile clinched it, if she’d had any doubt.

She might as well enjoy the view.

It wasn’t that Barry was stunningly handsome, it was that he was interestingly handsome. His nose was on the large side, as noses went, but it fit his face, due to his strong jaw. There was watchful intelligence in his eyes and Megan doubted she’d ever seen a genuine, uncalculated emotion in them.

She allowed herself a tiny exhale. This crush she had on Barry was so annoying. She was to the point of wanting to throw herself at him and let him use her until he tired of her, which was extremely unhealthy. She wouldn’t do it in a million years. But she wanted to, which was bad enough.

And her crush had obviously distracted her to the point that she’d let slip some crucial piece of information last fall. She had gone over and over what she’d said to him during that fateful press conference. That part had been taped. But afterward, reporters had approached her and, because Megan knew they were doing their jobs and because she didn’t have anything to hide, she’d informally answered a few questions.

To be honest, she’d known Barry would be one of the reporters to approach her. He always tried for the extra bit of information. It was a pathetic way to be closer to him but her pathetic heart craved it because for some unknown pathetic reason, he brightened her pathetic life. Pathetic, that’s what it was. Utterly pathetic. Like the way she was watching him right now. Pathetic. He was watching her, too, and knew the effect he had on her. She’d seen that particular smile often enough that she could see behind it sometimes. Right now, satisfaction was behind it. He thought he had her. And maybe he did.

For pity’s sake, the man even looked good in fluorescent light! She didn’t have a chance. She was Custer at Little Big Horn, Napoleon at Waterloo, the Titanic kissing an iceberg.

He wore his standard uniform of sports jacket and tie, which should have looked out of place in these days of casual attire but didn’t. He covered the casual aspect with a perfectly fitted pair of jeans.

Without breaking eye contact, Megan slid open her desk drawer, keeping her note cards at the ready. She didn’t actually have to read them, but it was a good idea to have them in sight.

“Hey, Megan.” He approached, his aura brightening the drabness of her desk area.

“Barry.”

Hands in his pockets, he tilted his head to one side and gave her the other half of her smile—and she hadn’t even done what he wanted yet. This was a first. She waited, and yes, here was the lowered head with the just-between-us look. The wink was next. She hoped he wouldn’t wink at her. It was so fake. So contrived. People didn’t wink in real life. Well, other than gangsters winking at little girls in white-lace dresses just after giving them ice-cream cones. Or old men and really, really young women who were blond and really, really stacked. Or cowboys. Cowboys winked, come to think of it.

But Barry was none of those things and, therefore, not entitled to wink.

Megan should look away—specifically toward the drawer with the note cards.

Since she couldn’t look away, she should at least say something. Anything. Anything to head off the wink. But what was there to say?

Barry winked.

“Don’t do that,” Megan burst out crossly.

“Don’t do what?”

“Wink.”

“You like the wink.”

“No! I don’t!”

“Sure you do.”

“No, really. I hate winking. It makes you look smarmy.”

He gazed at her, looking fake-affronted. “Smarmy? As I understand the definition of smarmy, I am not smarmy. I am anti-smarm.”

“Then 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—

“Then go to the next level,” he ordered impatiently.

“Megan—” Warning sounded in Gina’s voice.

“Everybody just calm down.” Megan took a breath and released it. “I’ve already been to the next level. Nada. I’m not authorized to go any farther, so I’ve Googled it. Wanna see?”

Barry rolled his chair right next to hers. He still wore the same light cottony sea-breezy scent and whether it was from the soap he used or a fragrance he applied, Megan knew it was chosen to be on the pleasant side of neutral.

Or maybe it was just fabric softener.

“Scroll.”

Megan scrolled. Barry whistled and pointed. “Click that one.”

Megan clicked. A garishly dark-colored over-the-top warning page appeared on her monitor.

“Click past that.”

“Now wait a minute—it says my computer will be traced and the police will flag it.”

“You are the police.”

“All the more reason—”

“Come on, Megan.” He barely whispered it.

His breath teased the hairs on her neck. She shivered and clicked, then leaned back and let Barry take control of the computer mouse. “That’s one of those conspiracy theory Web sites.”

“Hmm.” He was clicking faster than Megan could read.

“You know, Sterling isn’t that unusual a name. You probably have the wrong one.”

“Maybe.” Barry sat back and checked his watch. “Well, this is all very fascinating, but I want to check out Sterling International in person and see if I can find the groom. Since we don’t have a street address, I’m going to go to the post office where this box is located and check out the area.”

Megan closed her eyes. She should just wave him away. But she didn’t. “Hang on and let me try something.”

She could feel Gina staring at her, but didn’t glance up.

And then she could feel Barry looking at her. Not watching her screen, but looking at her. She didn’t glance up for him, either.

Megan had to search several commercial property lists before she found what she was looking for, but she finally did get an address for Sterling International.

She wrote it down on one of the True Blue for You notepads she gave out when she spoke at schools. “Try this. It’s from census archives. It might not be any good, but at least it’s something.”

“Thanks, sweet cheeks.” And he kissed her. Right on the cheek.

Megan stopped breathing so she could fully experience the brief encounter with Barry’s lips. There wasn’t a lot to experience.

Barry, already on his feet, bestowed her one-dimpled smile on her and Megan braced herself.

So did Barry. With an amused shake of his head, he stood, waiting for a response.

Megan reluctantly waggled her fingers at him and he responded with a two-fingered salute before striding through the squad room.

It was probably going to be their new routine. Megan sighed and noticed Gina watching her.

“Oh, be quiet,” she muttered.

“Did I say anything?” Eyebrows raised, Gina continued typing.

Megan stared at the index cards in her open drawer and sighed. She was hopeless. Utterly hopeless. Rather than banging her head on her desk, Megan withdrew a blank card and wrote, “Give in.” If nothing else worked, she might as well keep her options open.

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