of the hospital. I can see you’re hurting.”
She breathed out a long breath and met his gaze head on. “Hey, if you don’t have a limp then I don’t have bruised ribs.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “You are a real pain, Mackey.”
She laid her head back against the seat, exposing the long curve of her neck. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
He wondered if her skin was as soft as it looked. “So where to?”
She gave him the address. It was a working-class neighborhood twenty minutes away from the hospital. They drove in silence. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
He glanced at her a couple of times. Sleeping, she looked different. Young. Vulnerable. He’d learned more about Tara Mackey today than he’d learned in the past year.
When he pulled onto her block, the streets were quiet, and he had no trouble finding a parking spot in front of the brick building. He shut off the car engine.
On the bottom floor of the building in a large window, a pink neon Roxie’s sign was flickering. A Closed sign hung in the door. The place looked like any other neighborhood bar. He imagined it came with its own cast of regulars.
He glanced at Mackey, trying to imagine her growing up here. His own childhood had been privileged and he’d not had to work. Everything had been taken care of.
“Mackey,” he said softly. “We’re here.”
Her head snapped up. She ran tense fingers over her hair. The bar was quiet, but the second-floor light was on. “Hey, would you do me a favor?”
“Need help getting out of the car?”
She smoothed the wrinkles from her shirt as she glanced at the second-floor window. “That, too.”
He lifted a brow. “What else?”
“Pretend to be my date?”
That was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “Say that again.”
“When the ambulance driver told me I had to go to the hospital, I called my aunt and told her that I couldn’t make it in to work at the bar tonight because I had a date. I don’t want her knowing I was in the hospital. She worries.”
He shifted his arm over the seat behind her and turned toward her. Moonlight accentuated the high slash of her cheekbones. “Your aunt is okay with you missing work for a date?”
A wry smile tipped the edge of her lips. “She’d sell her soul if she knew I was dating. Her fondest dream is that I marry and give her grandnieces and grandnephews.” She blushed as if she’d not meant to be so direct. “Just show your face, and I’ll make up a quick story and you can be on your way. You can pretend you like me for a couple of minutes, can’t you?”
He’d have no trouble pretending with Mackey. “Sure.”
Chapter 6
Tuesday, July 15, 12:01 a.m.
T ara had chosen the lesser of two evils. To avoid telling her overprotective aunt that she’d nearly been killed in a car accident, she’d asked Kirkland for a personal favor.
Now Tara wasn’t so sure she’d made the right choice.
Normally, she wouldn’t have asked him for anything. She didn’t like owing the cops she covered, and for some reason she especially didn’t want to be beholden to Kirkland. He was sharp—one of the best detectives she’d ever met. He worked hard and didn’t expect any more from the people under him than he was willing to give himself. Because she respected him so much, she’d always made sure she’d done her homework when she was around him.
Add in the fact that he was one of the social elite, and she felt really uncomfortable bringing him into her world. The last time she’d brought one of his kind into her life it had met with disastrous consequences.
She was not ashamed of her family or her roots. She adored Roxie. But her aunt’s outspoken opinions and colorful language could make even the toughest longshoremen blush. She flashed back to her thirteenth birthday, when Roxie had arrived at her party dressed in a pink muu-muu, a sparkly hat, crooning “Happy Birthday” in her whiskey voice. Tara had
She breathed out a long breath and met his gaze head on. “Hey, if you don’t have a limp then I don’t have bruised ribs.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “You are a real pain, Mackey.”
She laid her head back against the seat, exposing the long curve of her neck. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
He wondered if her skin was as soft as it looked. “So where to?”
She gave him the address. It was a working-class neighborhood twenty minutes away from the hospital. They drove in silence. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
He glanced at her a couple of times. Sleeping, she looked different. Young. Vulnerable. He’d learned more about Tara Mackey today than he’d learned in the past year.
When he pulled onto her block, the streets were quiet, and he had no trouble finding a parking spot in front of the brick building. He shut off the car engine.
On the bottom floor of the building in a large window, a pink neon Roxie’s sign was flickering. A Closed sign hung in the door. The place looked like any other neighborhood bar. He imagined it came with its own cast of regulars.
He glanced at Mackey, trying to imagine her growing up here. His own childhood had been privileged and he’d not had to work. Everything had been taken care of.
“Mackey,” he said softly. “We’re here.”
Her head snapped up. She ran tense fingers over her hair. The bar was quiet, but the second-floor light was on. “Hey, would you do me a favor?”
“Need help getting out of the car?”
She smoothed the wrinkles from her shirt as she glanced at the second-floor window. “That, too.”
He lifted a brow. “What else?”
“Pretend to be my date?”
That was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “Say that again.”
“When the ambulance driver told me I had to go to the hospital, I called my aunt and told her that I couldn’t make it in to work at the bar tonight because I had a date. I don’t want her knowing I was in the hospital. She worries.”
He shifted his arm over the seat behind her and turned toward her. Moonlight accentuated the high slash of her cheekbones. “Your aunt is okay with you missing work for a date?”
A wry smile tipped the edge of her lips. “She’d sell her soul if she knew I was dating. Her fondest dream is that I marry and give her grandnieces and grandnephews.” She blushed as if she’d not meant to be so direct. “Just show your face, and I’ll make up a quick story and you can be on your way. You can pretend you like me for a couple of minutes, can’t you?”
He’d have no trouble pretending with Mackey. “Sure.”
Chapter 6
Tuesday, July 15, 12:01 a.m.
T ara had chosen the lesser of two evils. To avoid telling her overprotective aunt that she’d nearly been killed in a car accident, she’d asked Kirkland for a personal favor.
Now Tara wasn’t so sure she’d made the right choice.
Normally, she wouldn’t have asked him for anything. She didn’t like owing the cops she covered, and for some reason she especially didn’t want to be beholden to Kirkland. He was sharp—one of the best detectives she’d ever met. He worked hard and didn’t expect any more from the people under him than he was willing to give himself. Because she respected him so much, she’d always made sure she’d done her homework when she was around him.
Add in the fact that he was one of the social elite, and she felt really uncomfortable bringing him into her world. The last time she’d brought one of his kind into her life it had met with disastrous consequences.
She was not ashamed of her family or her roots. She adored Roxie. But her aunt’s outspoken opinions and colorful language could make even the toughest longshoremen blush. She flashed back to her thirteenth birthday, when Roxie had arrived at her party dressed in a pink muu-muu, a sparkly hat, crooning “Happy Birthday” in her whiskey voice. Tara had
Similar Books
