Romano and Albright 01 - Catch Me If You Can (MM) (12 page)

“I’m pissed that they took my lunch money yesterday.”

We headed jerkily uptown to the tony address neither of us could afford in this lifetime, and I reflected on my prospects. I had hoped for a job with Mallory, working my way up…toward what? I wasn’t a curator. I was an assistant. My interest in art had been fueled by a passion for freedom of expression…and a single-minded determination to stay out of the family business. I was blazing my own trails, and they had nothing to do with my heritage. Unfortunately, they were taking me nowhere. Where the hell was I going? Deeper into debt, that’s where. I either needed that job with Mallory, or I needed to find a new direction. Those were my options.

“You want me to drive?” Dan asked again when I ground the gears and stalled at a light on Third.

“I’m fine. I can drive. You’re making me tense.”

“Your driving is making me tense, Romano.” He adjusted his seat belt and snapped his gum.

By the time we finagled our way into Shep’s building and up to the fifteenth floor, I was jiggling with nerves. Dan strode confidently down the hall. He probably did this all the time—wheedled himself into places he shouldn’t. Peeping and lurking. But I was having second thoughts. Third thoughts. “I don’t think that this is at all a good idea.”

“What’s the matter with you? We’re here legitimately. We’re stopping by to help him find out who his new boyfriend is.”

“That’s not funny. He’s going to kill me for even telling you.” Perspiring, I waited as Dan knocked. A half second ticked by, and I turned to leave. “He’s not home. Let’s go.”

Dan knocked again, this time with more force.

I found the keys to the truck. “I’m telling you, he’s in Connecticut visiting his mother.”

Dan glanced at my hand for a beat longer than necessary. I could almost see an idea formulating in his big hairy head. Pity I couldn’t read his mind fast enough, because he snatched those keys from my hand before I could hide them behind my back. “Hey. Do you think his cousin has a spare key? I bet she does.”

“Give those back.”

He quickly matched keys to locks, ignoring my protests. He easily blocked me from my wild grabbing.

I punched his shoulder hard. “What the hell are you doing? We can’t go in there. That’s against the law. You’re a cop. You can’t do this. I…I don’t break the law.” Protesting got me nowhere. I checked the hallway. It was quiet and empty. I could take him down with a surprise tackle. It worked on my brother and he was almost as tall.

“You do too. You pulled an illegal u-turn. You parked in a bus stop. You closed the shop when it should have been open. I bet you cheat on your taxes.”

I stopped. “
I do not.
”

But he was already in the apartment. He grabbed my sleeve and hauled me in after him, then gently shut the door. The locks clicked. “Well, I knew that would shut you up.”

“Oh man. This is so wrong.”

“Quit being a crybaby. Look. Do you or do you not want to keep your job?” He stopped in what looked like a large foyer and whistled loudly. “Wow. This is a nice place.”

My eyes bulged. It
was
nice. A
foyer.
It was vast—open and bright. What the apartment lacked in view it made up for in sheer square footage.

I forgot everything else. I huffed, and Dan gave me a stern look. “It’s two apartments made into one. Don’t get all excited.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

I had to check this out, illegal or not. I was in the door and now I was brimming with…an unflattering resentment. It looked like Pottery Barn had thrown up the contents of an entire catalogue in Shep’s gargantuan home. Everything was picture-perfect and color-coordinated and made overseas.

“Track lighting,” Dan scoffed. “That there is what we call a dead giveaway. No straight man lives like this. I don’t care what you say.”

“Did I say anything? He didn’t live like this at Manhattanville.”

The living room was bigger than my entire first apartment. I ran my hand the smooth length of a reproduction apothecary cabinet. Above that homogenized knockoff, a state-of-the-art flat-screen TV was centered with precision. A friendly grouping of leather club chairs sat in front of a white brick fireplace. On it, a wooden sailboat, three feet tall, sailed the mantle toward a humidor filled with cigars. You just knew they were Cuban.

I felt mean.

Dan disappeared into the kitchen. The sound of doors opening and closing followed him. He popped out of the doorway like a jack-in-the-box. “No Circus of Despair.”

“Color me surprised.”

He shook his head yet again. “Don’t be a bitch, Caesar.”

I swallowed. He was right. “Let’s just hurry, okay? I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

He proceeded to systematically search every nook and cranny in the thousands-of-square-feet apartment. I went to explore the rest of the space, curbing my bitterness. It was hard to do, as all I wanted was a humble apartment of my own. Anywhere. I’d take Staten Island, for crying out loud. And this? This plush bachelor pad looked ready for a spread in
Architectural Digest
—and it was utterly impersonal. There wasn’t a single photo on the wall that hadn’t been matted and framed in some sweatshop in China. On the dining-room table sat a gigantic glass bowl of wooden limes. Limes, for God’s sake.

I needed to get a grip. I stomped inelegantly down a long hallway cheerfully lit with natural light, taking it all in, dollar signs rolling in my head. Where had he gotten this kind of cash? Wheaties apparently paid Shep pretty damn well. The walls were papered in fucking linen.

“Hey. Take a look at this.”

Dan was in the second bedroom, a guestroom as beautiful as the rest of the place. A four-poster king-sized bed took up most of the room.

“What?” I grouched.

The front door rattled and, horrified, I grabbed Dan by the jacket. “I knew this would happen.”

I dragged him toward the closet, but it was overflowing with neatly hung clothing and stacks of shoeboxes. I gaped in shock. “Ferragamo?”

Dan nodded toward the armoire. I shook my head.

We both stared at the bed.

There was a lot of clearance, given the thing had stairs. I lifted the bed skirt. “Slide under.”

The front door opened to the sound of Shep’s charming, lackadaisical voice as we scurried under the bed like the fearful intruders we were. I flipped the bed skirt down. There was barely three inches of space to see. Dan lay flat to better watch the hall, although what we would do if we were discovered wasn’t clear to me. I just closed my eyes and concentrated on not hyperventilating.

“Calm down, Romano.”

I peeked and Dan wasn’t paying attention to the crack of daylight. He watched me. I swear he was laughing. I nodded stiffly. I’d have to accept that I was a source of entertainment for the demented detective.

Shep’s voice got weaker momentarily—perhaps he’d gone into the bathroom or the kitchen, and another voice, this one female, filled the apartment.

“That’s Estelle. His agent,” I whispered.

She was loud. “I don’t care. You need to do as you’re told or this thing is going to fall through and this is a huge opportunity. You signed a contract, Mac.”

“I know. I don’t think anyone knows.”

“Everyone knows. You could have warned me last night. I had to listen to him rant for half an hour. That bastard will sue us both. Don’t fuck this up.”

They were in the living room. The sound of feet on the wood flooring came nearer. Unless Estelle wore fancy man shoes, that had to be Shep. He went into the room next to us. A door opened. He was changing maybe.

“I’ll deal with it. Caesar isn’t going to tell anyone. He hasn’t yet. And his family doesn’t care. No one else knows. I was circumspect. It was just a stupid thing I did in college. It was years ago. It didn’t mean anything.”

I nearly popped out from under the bed. Dan grabbed hold of my wrist. “Be still.”

Shep went on, “He was pretty insistent. I slept with him a few times, that’s it.”

I opened my mouth, and Dan’s hand slapped down to shut it. “Shh.” I nodded and his hand slowly slid away, his fingertips trailing my chin. Was he petting me?

The click of Estelle’s heels faded, as did Shep’s plodding, well-clad feet.

She snapped, “Who knew back then, Mac?”

“No one. No one except my cousin, Poppy. That’s it. And Ce’s family. That’s all.”

“No one since then, right? I need you to think about your answer because I’d rather be prepared to handle some kind of PR situation than get blindsided. A good offense is the best defense. I want full disclosure. You understand?”

“I…” Shep’s voice wavered, and my breath froze as hope reared itself. Would he do it? Could he? And then that spineless dick lied again. “No one. I’m not…I’m not gay, Estelle.”

Dan snorted quietly next to me. “She’s an idiot if she buys that.”

“As long as we’re clear,” Estelle said and then a door shut. Locks spun.

I lay under the bed, in the sweating darkness, royally pissed. Dan faced me, but his eyes were rolled up—he was listening while I was fuming and embarrassed.

“I think they’re both gone.”

I tried to scurry out from under the bed skirt. Dan grabbed my belt. “Wait. He may still be here.”

I nodded and eased back onto the floor. Dan’s eyes darkened, if that was possible. His frown line had reappeared. His voice turned serious. “How long were you two together?”

“Three years.”

“Man. You sure know how to pick ’em. What a dickhead.”

“It was just a stupid thing I did in college.” My joke was undermined by the depth of Shep’s betrayal. You’d think I’d have grown immune by now. At this point every one of my secrets had been laid bare to the good detective. There was nothing left to hide—which was actually kind of liberating.

We lay still, listening to the hall clock. I wanted to go home and forget this entire day. No. That was a lie. What I really wanted to do was take a hatchet to Shep’s apartment and bust that mother up. Maybe Dan would turn a blind eye?

It was close under the bed. Naturally, there wasn’t a speck of dust, only gleaming floor. It smelled of lemon and Dan’s leather jacket. I hadn’t noticed before, but his cologne was spicy—like cardamom. Sultry and tangy. His beard was filling in, a true five o’clock shadow that framed full and soft lips—the top one less plump than the bottom. A tiny scar marred the right side.

Dan stared intently back at me. He seemed as curiously interested in my mouth as I was his. Before I could catch myself, I licked my lips. His mouth lifted into a slow, hot, sexy smile. I bit my lip, waiting to see where we were going. Tension crackled between us.

He moved closer, taking up most of the space. It grew even warmer under the bed. “You know what I think? I think you’re a smart guy and you dumped him for being a pussy. He’s still pissed.”

“Probably you’re right.”

Dan’s mouth was very nice. Masculine and broad. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? I had no idea what Dan’s story was, if he was into guys or bi or yet another straight guy willing to fool around, but suddenly, I didn’t care. I was pissed. Why that turned me on, I couldn’t fathom. Dan didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move away from me. Quite the contrary. He challenged me with his nearness.

I moved and his gaze went from my mouth to my eyes. Heat curled in my groin. Dan’s eyes filled with interest, and something else. Amusement.

“Don’t say a word,” I grumbled.

“Who me?” The grinning bastard. “I won’t say a thing.”

I inched forward, scooting close enough to seal myself against him from groin to chest, letting our bodies align. Waiting to see what he’d do. His breath caressed my skin, and the moment drew out long. The clock ticked in the hall. His smug smile deepened, charming me despite how infuriatingly cocky he was. Strong thighs pressed into mine, and he waggled his brows like a fool. But he was hardening against my crotch and…that was a surprise. He found me more than amusing—he was attracted to me. Aroused by me. Or he was into the getting-caught vibe. Maybe a bit of both.

His dick nestled into mine, and his neck flushed a deep, telling red. With the space between us gone, in the sweltering darkness, I found a reason to lay my mouth on his, gently, finding those lips deliciously moist and minty. I licked them. His taste was sweet, maybe a hint of nicotine and coffee, but mostly he tasted of that gum he liked to share.

Dan laughed against my mouth. “You going to do something interesting, Romano? Or just nibble on me?” He thought he was so funny.

“If you’d shut up for half a second, I’ll show you.” I gripped him by the belt with one hand, and kissed him, my mouth sliding over his, my fingertips digging right into his pants. I tickled the head of his cock. Why not? I knew what I liked. I figured he liked it too, because he groaned in surprise. His lips parted, and his hips snuggled back. The big lug. I tongued him wantonly, feeling him give, his mouth opening wide to welcome me. A tingle ripped down my spine at this unexpected pleasure. He was delicious. Sliding my hips against his, all thought of Shep and Justin Timberlake and missing clowns disappeared as I did my very best to wipe that fucking grin off Detective Dan Green’s face.

I suckled his tongue, rocking my whole body, working to make him harder. He had a nice, fat dick, long and broad, his bush wiry and wild. Sticky come pearled up. Yeah. He was right where I wanted him. I curved my fingers to stroke him in a firm grip that let him know I’d jerk him off and he’d never forget it, and he groaned again. Deeper this time.

And then that bastard flipped me over on my back with a fast move, trapping my hand in his pants and forcing the air from my lungs. “I see where you think this is going, Romano. You’re used to leading guys around by their dicks, right? Like that pussy, McNamara. Guess again.”

Holy shit. A blazing mix of shock and lust fried me as he rammed me into the floor, his mouth stealing the very air from my lungs. He kissed me like he was trying to pull my soul into his body, his tongue tasting, his hand cupping my chin, his hips spreading my legs and pinning me. Aggressively butch. Harsh and tasty. Jesus, it was thrilling and unexpected. My skin was on fire. I made small noises and let him take whatever the hell he wanted, my cock impossibly erect, my balls aching.