The Cop and the Chorus Girl (9 page)

About Sean as a boy, Flynn's little brother who tagged along with the big boys. About Sean who got mediocre grades in school, but loved football and cars. And motorcycles. About how he'd started hanging out with bikers and joined a gang—not a bunch of whiskey-drinking hell-raisers, but a group of guys who rode together and worked on their machines by the hour.

Then about how Sean had ended up in a store during a late-night holdup. It was an accident. One of those random tragedies that rendered an innocent bystander into a cripple.

“His shooting,” Flynn said finally, “was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I felt so helpless, so responsible, so—oh, damn, I don't know. It's been my whole life for almost a year. But now, suddenly you're here and—I can't explain it. Now things are changing. I feel like I'm coming out of a tunnel.”

Dixie stroked the dark hair at Flynn's temples, trying desperately to memorize the expression on his face, in his eyes. This was it—the look she'd first seen when she'd run out of the church and found exactly what she'd been looking for—a man with a heart. A man with feelings that ran deep.

“You can't feel guilty forever,” Dixie murmured.

Again the unhappy smile crossed his mouth. “That's what Aunt Jane says.”

“Aunt Jane is a smart lady.”

Flynn's eyes lightened. “She told me to come over here tonight and seduce the hell out of you. She even bought us dinner.”

Dixie smiled. “Did she, now?”

“She thinks you're pretty.”

“What do you think?”

“I think you're beautiful,” Flynn whispered. “Without your wig and all that makeup and the Wild West outfits. I've never seen a more beautiful woman than the one who's with me right now, Diana.”

He eased down again, taking Dixie's very willing mouth with his once more. They coupled with greater understanding than before, and greater passion. Dixie felt a lavalike heat overflow inside herself as she arched to fit her body against his harder frame.

She longed for the kissing to go on forever.

But gradually Dixie became aware of a telephone. The persistent ring finally penetrated her brain. Flynn stiffened an instant later.

“Phone,” Dixie whispered.

“I better get it.”

“If it's Aunt Jane, say thanks for the dinner. I loved every bite.”

Reluctantly, Flynn eased himself off Dixie and reached across the bed for the insistent telephone. He picked up and dragged the receiver down onto the pillow with him. He said only, “Flynn.”

A male voice at the other end began to talk. Flynn listened without moving, but Dixie sensed at once that his mind had suddenly left her.

She crept out of the bed and gathered the remains of their picnic. Carrying the mess to the kitchen, she cleaned up and then let herself into Flynn's bathroom. She could hear him answering questions with monosyllabic responses.

Closing the door and turning on the light, Dixie looked at herself in the mirror. She looked the same, but she felt monumentally different.

Adults don't always play by rules,
Dixie told herself.

Dixie always had. It was safe to keep her behavior within a certain framework. Granny Butterfield had known that long ago when she'd been in the Ziegfeld Follies. A woman who didn't know her limits then was doomed to get herself into big trouble.

But those days were gone, Dixie thought. Women could be more than beauty queens with no assets but their faces and pretty legs. So maybe it was time Dixie grew with the times, too.

She'd always known who she was. Always known what she wanted out of life.

Now, she wanted Flynn. Even if it ended up being for one night, she wanted him.

And basically, she was an impulsive person. She liked to act instead of do a lot of thinking. Better to make a mistake than do nothing, had been her motto—except when it came to matters of the heart.

Maybe it was time to be impulsive there, too.

She certainly hadn't had much luck in love before.

In the bedroom, Flynn heard the bathroom door close quietly, and he finally let himself pay full attention to his caller.

“Sergeant,” he said, keeping his voice down, “she's here right now. I had to get her out of the theater today because Torrano was raving like a lunatic. I was afraid he might harm her.”

“She's at
your
place?” Kello demanded, disbelieving. “Now? This minute?”

“She's out of the room at the moment, but—”

“Flynn, are you insane? This is a mobster's girlfriend we're talking about! What you're doing is completely against police procedure!”

“I had to do something. I didn't want her to get hurt—or worse. Torrano was insane with jealousy.”

“Jealousy? Exactly what are you doing with his girlfriend, Flynn?”

“Looking after her safety. I brought her here because Torrano doesn't know me from Adam. She'll be all right here—at least, safer than she is dancing on a Broadway stage. You have a better idea?”

“No, no, I suppose not. You had to improvise.” Kello blew an irritated sigh. “Okay, what have you learned so far? Anything we can use?”

“There's a restaurant in Brooklyn I think we ought to look into.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Flynn gave his sergeant the name and address he'd found on the matchbook left in Dixie's apartment. “It may be nothing,” Flynn said, “but I seem to remember reading the name of this restaurant in a report a while back. Maybe there's something to be learned there.”

“You could be right. I think I remember the name, too. I'll ask the rest of the guys what they know. Okay, what else?”

“There's a smoke shop near the theater where Dixie's show is playing.”

“Dixie?” repeated Kello. “I thought she was Miss Davis during the first half of this conversation?”

“Whatever. About the smoke shop.”

“Yeah?”

“It was closed today before the matinee, so I didn't go inside. But I thought we'd better check it out—see who owns the place, what goes on in there. Maybe there's something.”

“What do you think is going on?”

“The Mexico connection. I think we ought to explore it. If we can't get Torrano for all the other stuff he's done, maybe we ought to nail him for the illegal aliens he's got working all over the city.”

Sergeant Kello mulled that over for a while and finally murmured, “The way Eliot Ness and his boys got Capone for tax evasion?”

“Either way, he goes to jail. That's what we want, right?”

“Right.” Kello considered the idea for several more moments. “Okay, what's your plan?”

“We need some help from Immigration.”

“I know a lady over there. She's good, too.”

“Ask her to share what they've got on Torrano. Maybe we can put our heads together and come up with enough evidence.”

“In the meantime, you're putting pressure on the Davis woman?”

The bathroom door opened, and Flynn looked up in time to see Dixie slip into the bedroom. His mouth went dry and he couldn't respond to the sergeant.

She was naked.

And if the sight of America's favorite showgirl completely dressed was enough to make men crazy, Dixie naked was a sight to paralyze the strongest man on earth.

“Flynn?” asked Sergeant Kello. “The Davis woman. Are you learning anything about Torrano from her?”

Flynn opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“Flynn,” said Kello testily, “are you there?”

Dixie turned off the light and advanced toward the bed—bold as brass in the half-light. Her skin was creamy white all over. Her legs were endlessly long. Her breasts were perfectly symmetrical, gracefully blending into a slim waist and flaring gently into the curve of her hips. Her smile glimmered. Frozen on the bed, Flynn couldn't have answered the sergeant if his life depended on it.

“Flynn? Flynn?”

At last, Flynn made his voice work. “Gotta go,” he rasped, and then he dazedly handed the receiver into Dixie's waiting hand.

She took the receiver and cradled it gently, hanging up on Sergeant Kello without taking her smoldering gaze from Flynn's. When the phone was hung up, she said, “I couldn't wait any longer.”

She climbed onto the bed and straddled Flynn's motionless frame, pinning his hips to the bedclothes by gently clasping them with her exquisitely shaped thighs. She put her hands on his chest. “You don't mind, do you?”

Flynn slid his hands along the slender length of her arms. “Mind?”

“I want to make love,” Dixie whispered. “All night.”

“Dixie—”

“I've thought about it. I don't do this kind of thing, you know. I've never slept with any man I wasn't married to.” Slowly, she slid Flynn's pullover over his belly and ran her hands under it to caress his chest. “Didn't I tell you?”

“Yes, but—” He tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but Dixie's feather-soft touch was causing short circuits in his nervous system. The reality of such a beautiful woman in his bed was almost more than he could handle.

“My first marriage was a high school thing.” Dixie ran her fingernails along the ridge of Flynn's collarbone. “I did love him, and he loved me. But it wasn't forever. We were kids.”

“And...and the second?”

“An older man,” Dixie said with a smile. “He was thirty, and I was twenty-five. I know now he was looking for a trophy wife. We only lasted a few months. Since then—for two years now—I've kept my heart under lock and key.”

“It's been two years?”

“Since I've been with a man, yes. So, Flynn—”

“If you ask me to be gentle, I think you'd better know right now it may be impossible.”

She laughed, and her thighs tightened around his hips. “No, that's not it. I just—I want you to warn me now if you think I'll regret this.”

“I thought Dixie Davis never regrets anything.”

“True,” she murmured thoughtfully.

“I can't make promises,” he said after a moment. “Not unless I'm sure I can keep them. But I want to protect you, Diana. I want you to be safe.”

“I think I am with you.”

“Is that enough?”

“Maybe,” she whispered, sliding down to kiss him with her smiling mouth. “I hope so.”

It was a soft kiss, nothing more than a graze, really. But instantly her lips rekindled the desire Flynn had managed to fight back since the phone had rung. He flattened both hands on her shoulders and smoothed down the curves of her back. Her bottom felt smooth as marble, but as warm as if she'd just walked off the beach.

Her naked breasts pressed against his bare chest caused the most erotic results. Suddenly his whole body was on fire. Then her tongue slipped into his mouth and worked a fiery magic, too. His blood seemed to boil. Flynn moaned deep in his throat, and pulled Dixie more tightly against himself. Surely she felt how hard he was. She seemed to weaken with unspoken desire.

Don't break her heart,
warned his conscience.
Don't hurt this woman, Flynn. If you make love now and walk out of her life tomorrow, she'll never forgive you.

Worse, he thought dimly, you'll never forgive yourself.

But he couldn't stop. She was too perfect, too sensual. The slender lines and full curves of her body combined with a certain sweet vulnerability in her soul—a combination Flynn couldn't resist.

“I want to touch you everywhere,” he murmured when her lips slid from his and traveled slowly down his neck and chest. He writhed beneath her, clutching Dixie hard when she licked his flat, male nipples.

“Then do,” Dixie whispered back.

He rolled and pressed Dixie down into the bed. In a single yank, he pulled his pullover over his own head and then dived down to lie against her bare body. He let his hand roam over her breasts, along her ribs, across her belly. He swiped a caress across the tops of her thighs and watched Dixie shudder with excitement. She was quick to respond. Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes were luminous.

It was like a dream to Dixie. Flynn was slow and gentle, despite the hammering of his heart. He was intensely aroused and fought hard to hold back. She let him have his way with her, and she'd never experienced anything so wonderfully exciting. He was breathless, panting, covering her with his mouth and tongue, whispering how beautiful she was.

He tasted her everywhere. Dixie's head spun with the delights he aroused in her.

She tugged off the rest of his clothes, anxious to take their passion to the next level.

“I can't wait, Flynn.”

“I want to go on all night.”

He had enough wits left to remember to open a drawer beside the bed. He groped for a foil packet, and Dixie laughed when he dropped the first one, cursing.

“How like you to be careful!” she teased.

“You're the one who's been abstinent.”

“I was just waiting for the right moment to be my usual impulsive self.”

“I'm glad you waited.”

She had waited, she thought with a smile. For the right man, not just the right time. And here he was—sweet and kind and sexy as hell.

She helped him with the condom, caressing until Flynn bit back an erotic growl.

With a supple roll, he had her down on the bed again. Rougher this time, he kissed Dixie all over and followed each kiss with a caress that left her gasping.

Then she drew him inside. Because it had been so long for her, she gave a gasp at first, but then it felt wonderfully good. He was deep inside her after that, moving with the gentle persistence of a tide.

Dixie cried out as the waves crashed over her. She let the swirling darkness consume her, drowning her voice, releasing every nerve in a swift implosion of pleasure.

Flynn came after Dixie, unleashing his passion in a powerful rush after holding back for her sake.