Courting the Cop (5 page)

Hunching his shoulders, Brody walked off in the opposite direction away from Number Three.

What was he going to do? Obviously he should tell Abigail what had happened straightaway, but what if she got mad at him? He didn’t want her pissed off with him two days in a row, even though this was hardly his fault. He couldn’t have known the ninja granny was lurking in the rear lane. Or maybe he could have. Maybe he was to blame because he hadn’t taken sufficient care on leaving the premises of his stakeout. Because he’d been too preoccupied thinking about Abigail.

Shit
. If he wanted to catch Michael O’Brien, he needed Abigail, but the more time he spent with her, the more chance of being distracted by her.

He had to be more professional around Abigail. He couldn’t afford any more slipups.

As he reached the end of the street, his cell phone beeped. A brutal assault down by the river. Shane was on his way to pick him up. No more time to waste on Abigail, and that was almost a relief.

Chapter Four

“You’re looking very pretty today.” Sophia beamed a smile at Abigail over the counter. “Is that a new sweater?”

Abigail pressed her palms against the soft blue cashmere of her sweater, feeling vaguely self-conscious. “Not exactly. I bought it on sale at the end of last winter and never got a chance to wear it until now.”

Sophia nodded in approval. “It’s lovely on you.” Leaning her elbow on the counter, she gave Abigail a heavy wink. “I don’t blame you for wanting to look your best. He’s quite a hottie.”

“Excuse me?”

Sophia chuckled as she waved a hand. “Oh, I’ve embarrassed you. But darlin’, just because I’m seventy doesn’t mean I’m dead. I can appreciate a hot-looking man as much as you young girls.”

Nothing Abigail didn’t already know. Sophia was definitely determined not to go gentle into that good night, and her interest in men was as frank and earthy as she was. But who was this “hottie” she thought Abigail had dressed up for? She couldn’t mean Brody, could she? Because, if Abigail was ruthlessly honest with herself, she had put on this sweater on account of Brody coming in today.

The deep, periwinkle blue color complemented her eyes and hair, and she knew she looked attractive in it. And even though they’d had a little disagreement the last time they’d been together, she wanted to see that gleam of appreciation in Brody’s eyes when he saw her. Which was rather pathetic, seeing how she was under no illusions as to what kind of man Brody was. But dammit, she was a woman, and Brody sparked something in her that no one ever had. Not even Robert. That had to mean something.

But could Sophia be referring to Brody? Had she met him somewhere in the neighborhood? Quite possible, since Sophia was Mr. Mariano’s mother-in-law and lived next door.

As if she’d read her thoughts, Sophia nodded. “I saw him yesterday coming out of your apartment.” She glanced around at the other customers in the store before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Congratulations, darlin’. You got yourself a fine-looking boyfriend there.”

“A boyfriend…”

Heat coursed up her neck and cheeks as she struggled for composure. To give herself some breathing space, she picked up a box of mohair and moved over to the shelves to unpack the balls of yarn. If she’d hoped Sophia would take the hint and drop the conversation, she was sadly disappointed as the seventy-year-old trotted after her.

“Oh, come now, you don’t need to be embarrassed in front of me. It’s the twenty-first century. I know you young people don’t mind sleeping together on a first date, and I wouldn’t mind either if I ever got the chance. A nice man is hard to come by, so when you do, you grab him with both hands, don’t you? That’s my philosophy anyway… Darlin’, you’re mixing your mohair with your angora, aren’t you?”

Abigail blinked at the jumbled balls on the shelf. “Oh, yes, you’re right.” She began rectifying the mixup, her brain seething.

The door jingled as more customers entered the store.

“I’m glad you’ve got someone to keep you warm at night.” Sophia was like a bull terrier. She just wouldn’t let go of the subject, wouldn’t take the hint to stop. Abigail had to set her right pretty soon.

“Who’s keeping who warm at night?” a sharp voice enquired.

Abigail looked up to see two more regulars standing nearby, Phyllis and Jennifer. Jennifer was mild and daffy, while Phyllis was blunt and vinegary.

“Well?” Phyllis glanced expectantly between Abigail and Sophia.

“Guess what? Abigail has a new boyfriend!” Sophia flung out her arms in a ta-da gesture.

Oh for Pete’s sake
. Abigail rested the box of yarn on her hip, preparing to disabuse all three women, but before she could say a word, a deluge of exclamations rained down on her.

“Who is he?”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“Is it serious?”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Abigail raised a hand in an effort to silence them. “Ladies, I thought you came here for the Knit and Natter session.”

“We
are
nattering.”

Abigail tried for a stern expression. “But I don’t see much knitting happening, and I notice we have some newbies today.”

A couple of women she’d never seen before sat at the large table in the middle of the store, looking like they were waiting for something to happen. She moved across to introduce herself and welcome them to the Knit and Natter group.

“Could you help me with this glove, please?” One of the women drew out a tangle of wool and needles from her bag. “I’m hopeless at reading a pattern.”

“Of course.” Abigail sat next to the woman. This was the part of her job she loved the most—guiding people in new skills. It wasn’t any wonder that she’d gone to college aiming to become a teacher.

“Do we order coffee through you?” the other lady asked.

“Uh, yes, sure.”

Abigail frowned at the oversized clock hanging above the counter that told her it was a quarter past ten and Brody was late. Where was he? Had he forgotten about the Knit and Natter? Maybe he was too busy, maybe he had more important things to do. After all, Mrs. O’Brien wasn’t even here yet. A cloud of disappointment descended on her though she tried to shake it off. Brody hadn’t promised he’d be here, so she had no reason to feel let down. And in truth she didn’t need him to man the espresso machine; she could handle everything on her own, like she usually did.

As she rose to her feet, the bell jingled, and all heads swiveled toward the door as Brody sauntered in. He came to a halt as he surveyed the room staring at him.

“Good morning, Brody,” Sophia called out, trotting up to him, plum-colored lipsticked mouth stretching into a big grin. “Abigail’s been waiting for you.”

Brody’s eyes widened as they fastened on Abigail. She could practically see the cogs in his brain whirring as he thought this through. Lifting her head, she marched up to him.

“Morning, Abigail.” Caution filled his expression.

She aimed a fierce frown at him. “Can I talk to you out the back?” Without waiting for his reply, she swept past him and headed for the cluttered room at the back that served as storeroom, kitchen and office. Files and receipts littered a desk. In one corner lay the battered Styrofoam costume she’d worn last Saturday. Only a macramé curtain separated the room from the front store and her customers, but it would have to do.

She whirled on Brody. “My boyfriend?” she hissed, all too aware of the eager ears pricked up on the other side of the curtain. “I can’t remember agreeing to that!”

Brody held up his hands, palms facing out, as if he were calming a skittish horse. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Your secret ninja granny caught me coming out of your apartment yesterday, and when I showed her the key you gave me, she took that to mean I was your boyfriend.”

Abigail stared at him. “Secret ninja granny? You mean Sophia?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot her name. She was wearing a hoodie and a black headband. Like a ninja.”

Abigail struggled to suppress a smile at the image he painted. “Why didn’t you set her straight? You could have told her you were just a friend visiting.”

“We were right opposite Hillcrest Road, and she was causing a commotion. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.”

“So instead you let her believe a ridiculous story.”

“Is it so ridiculous?” A light glinted in his eyes. “I could be your boyfriend.”

She let out a snort. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” He wiggled an eyebrow at her, and she had to bite back another smile. Brody was such an incorrigible flirt. “Some women might be envious of you.”

“You’re not boyfriend material. Not my kind, anyway.”

The teasing disappeared as his brows dipped down. “I’m not good enough for you, is that it? Why? Don’t I read enough poetry to make the grade?”

The edge in his tone stung, and that surprised her. “That’s not—”

Sophia’s head poked through the macramé curtain. “Darlin’s, we can all hear your little tiff out here.”

Only because Sophia had no shame or boundaries when it came to other people’s business. Abigail pressed her lips shut as she wondered how much Sophia had overheard. She might be annoyed with Brody, but she didn’t want to ruin his cover.

“Sophia,” she began, “it’s not a tiff. We, ah, we’re just having a discussion about the, um, state of our…relationship.”

“You’re um-ing and ah-ing so much I can’t understand you.” Sophia stepped in, the macramé curtains parting to reveal the other customers unashamedly eavesdropping on the conversation. “Brody here called himself your boyfriend yesterday, and that seems to bother you.”

“Well, yes, it does. He and I haven’t talked about this yet, and he presumed too much.”

“But I thought we were an item,” Brody said, his eyes daring her to contradict him. “The first time we met, you had my shirt off, don’t you remember?”

Sophia chuckled. “Honey, if you don’t want him I’ll have him in a flash.” A mischievous look spread across Sophia’s face as she eyed Brody like he was a prime New York steak.

Brody flashed Abigail a pleading look. Oh heavens, how could she ignore those melting green-brown eyes?

“Um, I think I’ll hang on to him for a while. See if he improves.”

“Good for you, darlin’, and if you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.”

A muscular arm draped around her shoulders and a warm body pressed against her side. “Thanks, Abby baby,” Brody murmured in her ear, pulling her even closer. Her nerves danced as the heat of his body enveloped her. His broad palm cupped her shoulder, sending shivers of delight down her arm and up her neck. “You won’t regret this.”

Abby baby?
Already he had a pet name for her? She swallowed, not trusting herself to look into his eyes, not with Sophia and the other customers looking on.

“I hope not,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

“Aw, don’t you make a cute couple?” Sophia cooed. “Why don’t you two kiss and make up, and we can get on with our knitting, yes?”

What? She couldn’t be serious! But Brody’s hand on her shoulder was already swiveling her toward him. Placing a finger under her chin, he tipped her face up to meet his gaze. Under the leather jacket, a black T-shirt stretched tight across his chest, a chest that grazed her breasts beneath the blue sweater. Awareness of his hard, taut body, of his strength and virility, swamped her, triggering a flush of arousal.

“How ’bout it?” He murmured, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “A kiss to make me officially your boyfriend?”

His mouth was so close, so alluring. Wide, generous lips and a small dimple in his chin, faint stubble darkening his angular jaw. Need swelled her breasts, desire twined like a tropical vine between her legs. When last had she wanted to kiss a man this badly, a man who was so wrong for her?

She must have made a strangled sound of consent, because Brody lowered his mouth onto hers, his fingers slipping around her neck to draw her closer to him. Her senses swirled, overcome with the delicious sensation of Brody’s kiss, his lips gentle yet confident, telling her that when it came to kissing, he was the undisputed master and she the willing student. And boy, did she want to learn. Her lips parted without a second thought as she welcomed his heat, eager for more, carried away by the pleasure of his kiss.

As he slowly lifted his head away from her, she became aware that she was almost panting, her hands were clutching at his leather jacket, and she was standing on tiptoe, leaning into him, as if she couldn’t get close enough. Her breasts, achy with need, pressed up against his chest.

Satisfaction—and maybe a hint of triumph—gleamed in his eyes as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. “Abby baby, if you look at me like that for much longer, I’ll have to take you upstairs for some private time.”

Why the hell had she let him kiss her? And a kiss like that—so hot and earthy? A shudder of longing and shame ran through her. Oh God, she’d enjoyed that kiss way too much. Shaken, she pulled out of his embrace, her knees feeling disturbingly rubbery.

Sophia was chortling like a maniac. “Oh, yes, I’ve definitely got dibs on him if you give him the boot, Abigail.”

“Oh, stop that fandangle nonsense,” Phyllis spoke up, her brow scrunched in impatience. “While you two are canoodling, we’re all waiting for our coffee.”

“That’s why I’m here.” Brody grinned at everyone, looking cucumber cool. “I’m helping Abigail out at the Knit and Natter by making the coffee.”

“
You
are?” Phyllis gave him the once-over and didn’t appear too impressed. “Well, what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?”

“No, ma’am. What can I get you?” Brody shrugged off his jacket as he strode forward, leaving Abigail feeling she’d been picked up and tossed about by a tornado.

Her gaze tracked over his broad back, his honed musculature outlined by the figure-hugging T-shirt, his denim jeans slung low and tight around narrow hips. He oozed confidence and sex appeal. She couldn’t remember when last there’d been so much male testosterone in the store. And this man was supposed to be her
boyfriend
. Who would ever believe something that crazy? It was ridiculous. But her body betrayed her in her still-tingling lips and achy nipples. She had just put on a fine show of finding Brody attractive, much to her dismay. Whereas Brody… Well, he’d only kissed her to preserve his cover. He only wanted to be her
pretend
boyfriend, not a real one. That was important to remember.

Brody didn’t have much experience with cappuccinos or macchiatos. His coffee usually came out of the creaky old coffee maker at the station that someone else kept constantly brewing. But back when he was a teenager, he’d worked at an Italian restaurant and had been taught the basics of an espresso machine, so he was fairly confident as he took charge at Abigail’s store counter. The first coffee he made wasn’t too impressive, judging by Phyllis’s screwed-up expression.

“I don’t know where you learned to make coffee,” she said, pushing the cup back at him, “but that ain’t coffee.”

“I’ll make you another one.” He knew where he’d gone wrong; he hadn’t tamped down the coffee enough.