Dare to Love (6 page)

“You ready?” the craggy bartender barked out from the other end of the bar.

Doug nodded once, picked up a couple of bills from the pile in front of him and pushed them across the bar in the direction of the weathered old man.

“How many you got on me, Avery?”

“Three, if you hurry.” Doug turned, watching the man who was settling onto the stool beside him. He was a little surprised to find that he was glad to see his acting partner.

Steve flagged himself a beer and tipped it, not bringing his bottle back to the counter until it was empty.

“Make that two,” Steve told the bartender with a grin.

“You eat?” Doug asked.

“Naw. Barbeques aren't my thing. How about you?”

“This is dinner,” Doug said, motioning to the empty bottles in front of him.

“I figured you were at some dame's place, laying it on real nice and smooth, all ready to respect her in the morning,” Steve said, looking at the various whiskey bottles lining the wall in front of them.

“She preferred someone who wanted to
be
there in the morning,” Doug said, not minding that Steve knew that. After what they'd been through together that afternmoon, it seemed fitting somehow.

“You know her long?”

“Five years on and off, give or take a couple.”

Steve finished his second beer and motioned for a third. “You're probably better off.”

Doug peeled the label off the half-empty brown bottle in his fingers. He thought of Andrea, of her smile. He remembered the brush of her breast against his chin.

“Yeah.” He took another sip of beer. “How ‘bout you? You got someone keeping your bed warm while you're gone?”

Steve shook his head. “Nope.” He took a long swig of beer. “I tried three times. The last one wanted to be a farmer. I didn't.”

Doug grinned. “So, is she farming?”

“Yep. She married some guy with twenty head of cattle and a beat-up little house out in the middle of Boondock City, USA.”

“You sorry?”

“Not for her. We lived in Chicago, inner-city Chicago. She couldn't take the ugliness anymore. She needed a nice simple life straight from TV land, and she got it. But I miss my kid.”

Doug turned on his stool until he was facing the other man. “Kid? You got a kid?”

Steve looked at Doug and then back at the display of bottles in front of him. “Yeah. A little girl. She's got dark hair just like her dad, and she's got my temper, too.”

“No kidding.” Doug was grinning straight out. “You got a kid. That's great, man! How old is she?”

“Six. She started school this year. She's good at it, too. She's gonna be a lawyer someday.”

“A lawyer, huh? Well, congratulations! A damn lawyer. You're a lucky man.”

Steve flashed Doug a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I am, aren't I?”

The two men finished their beers, ordered one more apiece and then decided that maybe they should have some food after all. They walked back to the hotel in companionable silence, went to their separate rooms and ordered up separate sandwiches from room service.

In his room, Doug fell asleep in the armchair he'd settled into, his sirloin sub half eaten and a late-night talk show blaring out of the television. The grin he'd worn earlier was still faintly visible on his face.

* * *

A
NDREA SAT AT THE TABLE
in her room, a glass of club soda beside her and the television murmuring quietly behind her. She opened the ledger she was keeping on Doug Avery and immediately wrote about his unexcused absence at the barbeque that evening. She'd watched for him all evening, trying to tell herself that her disappointment in him was purely professional; that she hadn't been looking forward to spending time with him in the informal setting; that she hadn't worn her skintight black jeans just to see if he'd notice.

And all evening long, as steaks were being grilled and officers were throwing each other, fully dressed, into the pool, she kept hearing the words he'd said to her just two days before. “Each man for himself. Absolutely.” She'd do well to remember that.

Andrea chronicled the day's woes and then spent another hour writing about the skit Doug and Steve had done that afternoon. For those few minutes up on stage, Doug Avery had finally shown Andrea a brief glimpse of the depth she had sensed in him. It took compassion, large doses of it, to emulate the suffering of another, and Doug had done so with incredible intensity.

Andrea believed that Doug could be a top-notch DARE officer if he only could acknowledge that compassion. And she knew it was up to her to help him try.

She scooted down in her chair, leaning her head against the upholstered back, and tried to imagine a softer Doug—one who was strong and sure, but tender, too. She closed her eyes, suddenly realizing how draining the day had been, how tired she was. And she drifted off to sleep, joining an incredible new lover as they traveled together along the sensuous road to ecstasy. In her dream he was as naked as she, except for the skinny black strip of leather with silver studs that encircled his wrist.

D
OUG WAS LEAVING
a networking session with his other team members at ten o'clock Friday night when he saw Andrea heading out toward the hotel pool alone, a towel in her hand.

“I'm going for some air. I'll see you guys in the morning,” he said, slipping away from his teammates as they headed to the elevator.

He slid into an alcove until Andrea turned the corner, and then he followed her outside. Quietly, he leaned his body against a cement column, watching as she entered the deserted pool area. She dropped her towel on one of the empty lounge chairs near the Jacuzzi. Her short terry wrap barely covered her thighs. She really was a beautiful woman.

Looking around her, as if to make sure she was completely alone, she dropped the wrap. Doug felt like the adolescent he'd portrayed on stage the day before as his body hardened, and still he kept watching her. Her legs were not particularly long, but they were firm and perfectly shaped. Her thighs were exposed in the French-cut one-piece suit she was wearing, and they too were smooth and sleekly muscled.

Doug's jaw clenched, and he forced himself to look away before he did something he'd be ashamed of. He wanted her. He'd even go so far as to say he intended to have her. But he wanted her to be a willing participant—a knowing participant—not an inadvertent sideshow for some insensitive pervert.

He waited until she was completely concealed by the bubbling water of the Jacuzzi before he stepped forward. He saw her turn in his direction as he approached, but the shadows surrounding them were too dense for him to see her features clearly. She didn't speak—not to say hello, but not to send him away, either.

Doug remained silent as well, satisfied that what was waiting to be said between them would be said best without words. In fact, he'd prefer it that way.

He unbuttoned the fly of his jeans, pulling the stiff material away from his swollen body as he slid the zipper down. The rasp of the taut metal could be heard even above the bubbling water. It was like a siren, a warning call.

Doug kicked off his shoes, shrugged out of his pants and T-shirt, and then, dressed only in his bikini-cut briefs, stepped down into the Jacuzzi.

The water covered him to midthigh, but he didn't immediately sink down to conceal the rest of his body. He was watching a still-silent Andrea, close enough now for him to see her round blue eyes trained on the bulge between his legs. He allowed her to look for a minute, and then he slid down to the bench beneath the water, close enough to touch her if he chose to, but not too close. He wanted to make their eventual coming together as pleasurable for her as it would be for him. He didn't want to rush her.

The water was hot, stinging his skin, yet its very warmth enveloped them in a cocoonlike intimacy that made being there with her seem more private than a public pool should have allowed.

He looked over at Andrea, content for the moment to share the intimacy with her. She smiled a confused, awkward little smile and then looked away. It was the first time Doug had ever seen her anything but completely controlled. The sight stunned him.

It also made him feel kind of protective, which he didn't like at all. He was only looking for mature, adult satisfaction here.

Angry with himself for getting soft, he looked away.

“You shouldn't be here, Doug,” Andrea said. Her voice was as gentle as usual, but it was trembling, too.

He studied her through narrowed eyes. “Not if you don't want me here, I shouldn't. I was under the impression you did.”

Her gaze flew to his, alarmed and hesitant at the same time. “Where did you ever get that impression?”

“It's there every time we're in a room together. It's been there all week.”

“But we don't even like each other.”

“I think we do. Even though you want me out of the program, I think you know I'm a good cop. And I respect the job you do, the way you handle yourself with the guys.”

“I have a lot of respect for you, too, Doug. I do. A whole lot. You've got nerves of steel, and honor and courage. I'd trust you with my life in a dangerous situation. But that doesn't mean you're right for the classroom. And it certainly doesn't mean I want...this.” She raised her hand out of the water, gesturing to encompass the hot tub, the night, him.

He wanted to lick the beads of water from her forearm. “Don't you?”

“No.”

Doug didn't reply. He just watched her, holding her eyes with his own, forcing her to be honest.

She met his gaze for a couple of seconds and then looked away, out over the deserted swimming pool beside them.

“I don't. I know I don't.”

“Who're you trying to convince?” he asked, remaining where he was, keeping his hands to himself.

“Okay. I like your after-shave. But that means less than nothing. I can't lose my perspective here, Doug. Too much is at stake. I have to be able to evaluate you as you are, not as I want you to be.” Her tone of voice begged him to let her do the right thing, even as her eyes expressed her regret.

“And afterward?”

Her gaze flew to his. “Afterward, we go back to the real world, to our own lives.”

His eyes narrowed. “You're saying we don't see each other again?”

“We've never run into each other before.”

“Oh, but that's going to change. You can count on it,” he said.

Before she had a chance to reply, he rose from the Jacuzzi, leapt the couple of steps to the pool and dove in cleanly, with barely a splash. He would give her the rest of the two weeks, but he wasn't done with her yet, not by a long shot.

* * *

D
OUG ENTERED
the auditorium-cum-lecture room with tight lips the next morning. He wasn't looking forward to the hour or so ahead—he already knew everything they were going to tell him, probably better than they did. But the session was mandatory.

He looked for Andrea as soon as he entered the room. She was looking for him, too. He knew it as soon as her eyes met his. He also knew, no matter what she said, that they weren't finished with each other yet. She had to know it, too. She was too smart a lady to ignore the obvious.

Andrea pulled her gaze from Doug's as soon as she took her place at the head of the room. She told herself she hadn't been looking for him specifically, but she knew she was lying. She had been looking. And she'd been pleased with what she'd seen. He was wearing the inevitable tight jeans and a T-shirt that molded his muscular upper body to perfection. His features still showed years of rough living, but Andrea was used to them by now. Too used to them, she thought wryly, as her nipples tightened in response to his laconic grin.

She'd spent the better part of the night telling herself that she was going to give her all to teach Doug to care—but not for her. And she wasn't going to care for him, either—not in a personal way. She was just doing her job.

She stepped up to the microphone, forcing her mind away from Doug and the minutes she'd spent with him in the Jacuzzi the night before. She had a job to do, a lesson to teach, the most crucial and personally painful lesson of all. She knew every fact like she knew her own name—but she hadn't once, and she was going to spend the rest of her life atoning for it. She would teach people to see the signs, so that maybe the next time a child would have a chance before the damage was done. She
wasn't
going to be sidetracked by an inappropriate attraction to a James Dean look-alike.

“Pot smoking, glue sniffing, beer snitched from someone's refrigerator—these are all factors in the early stages of chemical dependency. Children do not start out as druggies. They start out just wanting to experiment, to feel grown-up, to fill empty weekend hours or long summer days....”

Andrea spoke to the room at large, but she was talking to Doug. She covered the four stages drug users usually pass through on the road to hell, sparing the people in front of her nothing. It was ugly, it was frightening and it was fact. She wanted Doug to be shocked enough to care.

“The books will all tell you to start watching for these signs in late-elementary-aged children, or early junior high. They're wrong. Can I have the lights off, please?”

Doug's mind wandered as he listened to Andrea. She didn't know the half of it. But she didn't need to, he supposed. She was giving them enough to get the job done.

He glanced up when the auditorium was plunged into darkness and felt cold all over as the first slide flashed up onto the screen behind Andrea. One after another came pictures of kids—clean-cut, innocent-looking kids in different stages of drug abuse. There were guilty faces, deals being made, furtive glances, vacant looks, belligerence and gross contortions on faces that should have been naive and sweet. All the slides were of children less than nine years old.

Doug watched as long as he could without feeling anything, and when his gut was as hard as a rock, he slumped down further in his seat, rested his chin on his chest and waited for the session to end.

“Lying, self-hatred, a different set of friends, dropped activities, especially sports, lower grades, asking for money—all of these are visible signs that a youngster may be on his way to chemical dependency. Please watch closely for them. They more than a knowledge of the four stages of chemical dependency could be the tools that save a child's life....”

Andrea finished her slide presentation, feeling relieved, as she always did, that it was over, that she'd made it through again, that there would now be almost two hundred more people in the world looking out for the children who might be led astray.

She called for the lights to be turned back on, her eyes immediately seeking Doug's. Had he joined her campaign? Did he understand? Was he ready to fight for the lives of Columbus's children?

She glanced his way and almost buckled, bracing herself against the podium in front of her. She should have known. She damn well should have known. She'd started to feel again. Last night, down by the pool, she'd actually considered making love with Doug Avery. And where she cared, she lost perspective. She
knew
that.

She took one last look at Doug, forcing herself to face the facts as they were, not as she wanted them to be. Doug's chin was resting on his chest—just as it had during her opening session. The bastard was asleep.

* * *

D
OUG WAS JUST
getting out of the shower when he heard the pounding on the door of his hotel room. Thinking it must be Steve coming to harass him into taking another trip to Harry's Tavern, he wrapped a towel loosely around his waist and went to open the door.

He didn't know who was more shocked, he or Andrea, as he stood there dripping wet. His first thought—that she'd come around even sooner than he'd expected—was squelched after one look at her face. Even the short, spiky edges of her hair looked angry. What in hell was he supposed to have done now?

“Uh, come in,” he said. She was still wearing the uniform she'd had on for her lecture that afternoon.

“Put some clothes on first.”

Doug shrugged, left the door ajar and went back into the bathroom to pull on the briefs and jeans he'd carried in there when he'd gone to take his shower. He flicked a brush through his hair and went out to face the music, whatever it might be.

Andrea stood in the doorway, counting to a hundred while she waited for him. Her attempt to calm herself failed miserably as he came from the bathroom looking exactly like a man prepared for love. He was lazy masculinity and the promise of strength all rolled into one. Andrea felt her pulse pounding, her limbs weakening. And then she remembered why she was there. She thought of Scotty.

Doug Avery was like poison spreading through her veins, robbing her of her competence. She wasn't going to allow it to happen again.

She stepped just far enough into the room to block his way. “I want you out,” she said, her voice soft but laced with steel. “Now.”

Doug pushed past her, his naked chest scorching her arm as he headed toward the pair of chairs on the other side of the room. He dropped down into one.

“You came to my room, lady. If someone has to leave, it should be you.”

Andrea kept her eyes away from the dark hair spreading over his solid pectorals. It was just a chest. Men had them. She shut the door and followed him over to the chairs.

“Don't get smart with me, Avery. I'm in charge here and you're out.”

He smiled, but the expression didn't reach his eyes. They were narrowed, and piercing her with something she didn't understand.

“Are you?” He dared to challenge her authority even now.

She couldn't believe she was attracted to such an insolent boor. She gritted her teeth to keep from yelling at him.

“That's your whole problem, you know that? You're so busy being Mr. Tough Guy that you can't do things any way but your own. Well, I'm here to tell you once and for all that your ways don't work here, Avery.” She couldn't believe any officer worth his salt could sleep through two sessions of a critical training exercise and not even feel remorse.

“Is that why you're here?”

His smile was still lazy, still more of a challenge than an expression of humor, but there was something else there, too. He was teasing her.
Damn him.

“Why else would I be here?”

His gaze ran lazily up and down her body, and then moved to the king-size bed beside her. He shrugged his scarred naked shoulders. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe you've decided not to wait for the session to be over. Maybe you're as impatient as I am to explore the possibilities.”

Andrea was still reeling from the shock of seeing that scar. It looked like his left shoulder had been sliced with a big knife. After her fatal glance at his crotch in the Jacuzzi the other night, she'd kept her eyes trained on his face. She hadn't noticed the scar. But she couldn't look away from it now.