Silk, Lace & Videotape Page 12
She straightened, but Duke could see the light flush in her cheeks, the quick way she breathed in the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
Oh yes. This was one mistake he would be only too happy to correct. He’d correct his other mistake—keeping the backup copy of her videotape—after Gallagher’s hearing when he could confess he’d kept it and then hand it over to her. For now, all he could think about was getting her alone with a bolt of silk and those high-heel shoes of hers….
He steeled himself for another day of being driven to distraction by sizzling memories of Amanda. He just hoped the fireworks between them wouldn’t blow up in his face.
10
HER SKIN STILL tingling where Duke’s touch had lingered, Amanda watched him back toward the front door of the showroom.
The spell seemed to have finally broken for her father’s nosy bookkeeper, Karen Wells, now that Duke was leaving the showroom. The woman had scarcely taken her eyes off him from the moment she’d walked in with her ever-present ledger.
Amanda didn’t know what had made Duke warm up to her again, but she knew she shouldn’t be experiencing hot fantasies about a guy whose affections were about as reliable as New York public transportation.
Been there. Done that. Ditched the fickle almost-fiancé.
“Bye, Duke.” She offered what she hoped was a polite, professional smile, then called to his partner still connected to his cell phone, “Nice meeting you, Detective Winger.”
The tall detective nodded his acknowledgement as he opened the front door.
And promptly entangled himself and Duke in a traffic jam.
“Well hello,” a familiar Long Island accent drifted from amidst the big male bodies in the entry. “Is there a sale on sunglasses that I don’t know about?”
Lexi emerged from the wall of muscle, her poodle in her arms and a flirtatious grin painted in stop-traffic red across her face. “Your clientele is improving, Amanda,” she commented loud enough for the departing detectives to hear. “I like it.”
Duke was already out the door, but Amanda noticed Josh Winger stood in the entrance a little longer, his eyes plastered to Lexi’s body-hugging blue crocheted dress.
Only when Lexi turned and waved her poodle’s paw at the detective did the man seem to remember himself. With a curt nod he let go of the door and disappeared into the pedestrian traffic of the Garment District.
Lexi whistled as she set her dog on the floor. “Girl, that gorgeous manflesh nearly made me forget what I came for. Muffin, you sit right there.” She helped herself to a side table with gourmet coffee and pastries. “They were cops, right?”
Amanda nodded. She reached under the counter to find her own mug. “Yes. They were investigating Victor Gallagher.”
“Those were the guys? Which one was Duke?”
“The blond with the solar system on his tie.”
“And you didn’t introduce me?” Lexi stamped both her feet on the Italian marble floor. “How could you let them just stroll away like that?”
Amanda shrugged. “Sorry. But I’ve barely forgiven Duke Rawlins for giving me the coldest shoulder of my life. Besides, they didn’t exactly come for a social visit.”
“That reminds me.” Lexi sipped her coffee. “Neither did I. But first, did Duke abjectly apologize for beating tracks from your door last weekend?”
Amanda hadn’t meant to tell Lexi about what had happened with Duke, but her friend’s shrewd eye had observed Amanda’s less-than-jubilant mood this week and she’d been relentless about unearthing the cause. Amanda had ended up giving her a pared down version of her parting of the ways with the flashy detective.
“He apologized,” Amanda admitted. “But that doesn’t mean…well I don’t know what it means, but I’m not seeing him again.”
Lexi waggled her eyebrows. “Except at Victor’s hearing.”
“A very public venue where there will be lots of other people.” Amanda did not want to think about seeing Duke again. Not when he’d walked out with that charm-your-socks-off grin on his face. She knew she was toast if he turned his skills to charming her. “Now, what brings you to the showroom?”
Lexi grabbed Amanda by the arm for an answer, tugging her toward the front door.
Amanda stumbled along behind her, her freshly poured hazelnut breakfast blend sloshing around her cup as badly as her father’s normally did.
“I wanted to see what you’re doing with your window this week.” Lexi dragged her through the front door to stand on the street right in front of Amanda’s latest display. Muffin followed, his nails scraping the concrete.
They stood in the bright May sunshine, studying her vignette. Amanda still saw the flaws, the imperfections she hadn’t yet fixed, but Lexi was already raving.
“It’s fabulous.” She squeezed Amanda’s arm as if to offer a silent congratulations. “The daisy in the teeth is great.”
Inspired by her trip to Canal Street, Amanda had posed her mannequins in a setting to evoke the market atmosphere. The main female mannequin danced to a street vendor’s guitar music, a daisy in her teeth and a skirt of yellow silk swirling around her legs thanks to a small electric fan Amanda had hidden. The male mannequin watched in the background, his arms full of shopping bags.
“That skirt isn’t a Clyde Matthews though,” Lexi observed right away. “Is it yours?”
“It is now. I just thought of it while I worked on the window.” The yellow silk had been very inspiring thanks to memories of sliding around in it with Duke.
“You’re putting your own designs in a Clyde Matthews window?” She sounded scandalized.
“The man won’t listen to me when I tell him I don’t have time to do his displays anymore.” She nudged Lexi forward, out of the way of a skateboarder careening down the sidewalk. “I figure if I’m going to invest the time, I might as well reap some benefit.” The move had been underhanded, maybe, but Amanda had suffered her father’s manipulative tactics for getting his own way for long enough.
Lexi shook her head. “Everyone is going to go ballistic over that skirt. It’s the best thing in the window.”
Amanda couldn’t help but smile. She’d thought it was pretty good as she’d created it, but her friend’s expert assurance as one of New York’s most respected fashion reviewers bolstered Amanda’s confidence. “Thank you.”
“Your father’s going to kill you when his next twenty customers want that skirt. Your skirt.”
Amanda hoped not. It hadn’t been her intention to upset her father. “No. But maybe he’ll finally get his head out of the clouds and acknowledge me as a fellow designer instead of his personal assistant and daughter. I’ve tried to talk to him, Lex, but every conversation just ends up with him singing another aria.”
Lexi nodded, snapping her fingers for Muffin as she edged toward the showroom door. “Hey, you won’t hear me arguing. You need to make him notice you.”
Amanda followed Lexi into the store, stealing a soothing sip of the hazelnut brew to banish thoughts of her father.
“So did your cop look at your window?” Lexi asked, dropping onto the antique sofa near the showroom’s lone posh dressing room.
In a flash, Amanda’s thoughts of her father were obscured by visions of Duke Rawlins. Had he noticed the Canal Street vignette on his way out? Heaven knew, those scorching blue eyes didn’t miss much. And the male mannequin was Duke, right down to his starry tie. “I don’t think so.”
“But he did come here to kiss your toes for not calling this week, right?”
Amanda seated herself across on a carpeted platform in front of a three-way mirror. “He said he freaked because of how fast things went between us.”
Lexi leaned forward in her seat. Muffin sat up at her feet in perfect imitation. “Really?” She tapped the rim of her cup with one long, two-tone blue-painted fingernail. “Where did you say Duke is from? New York?”
Amanda shrugged. “I’m not sure. Why?”
“I’m just trying to figure ou
t what kind of guy he is, what his intentions might be.”
Standing, Amanda brushed off her narrow skirt, impatient to end all talk of Duke. “You’re not my psychic hotline advisor, Lex. I don’t need you to figure out his intentions for me.”
“How old is he?” Lexi pressed.
Thirty-ish? “I don’t know.”
Lexi rolled her eyes. “Geesh, Amanda. You spent a whole day and night with him. What did you guys talk about? Do you know what he likes to do besides hunt down bad guys? Or if Duke is even his real name?”
“He likes the Mets,” Amanda ventured, wishing she could come up with enough to hush Lexi before her friend launched into a tirade about intelligent dating.
What had she and Duke talked about when they’d spent the day together? Amanda recalled Duke listening attentively while she explained the difference between crepes and silks and silk georgette. She remembered pointing out hemlines on women all over the city and his interest in bias-cut fabric.
God, she must have bored the poor man to tears.
“All cops like baseball.” Lexi shook her head. “I can’t believe you, of all people, slept with a guy you barely knew.” She shot Amanda a wicked grin. “He must have really knocked your stockings off.”
To put it mildly, yes.
As she led Lexi upstairs to her loft, Amanda tried not to think about how much Duke Rawlins had shook up her world in the course of a few days.
And remembering the way he’d touched her before he left the showroom today, Amanda had the feeling he was going to try it again. Soon.
This time she’d be ready for him.
This time she knew how charming he could be and she wouldn’t let him “knock her stockings off.”
Amanda fanned herself at the mere thought.
As memories of their night together flooded back in a heated crush, somehow she didn’t think she’d ever be able to strap on her garters tight enough.
DUKE STARED DOWN at the desk calendar beside his computer at the precinct, surprised to realize it had only been two weeks since he’d renewed his efforts to woo Amanda.
Why then, did it seem like a lifetime?
Two weeks and she was still avoiding him—hiding out in her loft when he visited the showroom and refusing his offers to take her out. How could he apply the “Good Cop” charm when she wouldn’t even let him get anywhere near her?
Today, at Victor Gallagher’s hearing, she would have no choice.
Josh’s voice called from behind. “Hey Duke, you up for poker tonight at the chief’s place?”
Turning, Duke shook his head. “No thanks. My luck has dried up this month, I think.”
“No kidding.” Josh plunked down into his own chair a few desks away. “Why else would we invite you?”
Duke laughed despite the slight gnawing in his gut at the notion of his luck fading. He’d always been able to charm his way through life. The thought that he’d really blown his chance with Amanda was bad enough in itself. He couldn’t stand the idea of going through life with only a video version of Amanda—as tantalizing as that version might be. What if his luck on the job vanished, too? Not a good thought for a cop. “Maybe next week.”
“You need me at Gallagher’s hearing?”
Duke plucked up the stress ball and squeezed it. “Nope. I’ve got enough to hold him.”
“Assuming the mob princess shows up.”
He ground his teeth. “Leave it be, Winger. She’s going to come through.”
Amanda didn’t want anything more to do with Duke, but he believed her when she said she’d testify. Her father might foster underworld connections, but Duke was willing to bet Amanda didn’t approve.
Then again, his bets weren’t exactly a sure thing since his luck had dried up.
“Whatever you say. I’ll ride over to the courthouse with you. I’ve got to apply for warrants for Gallagher’s friends in Queens anyway.”
Rising, Duke grabbed his jacket. “Sounds like a plan.”
They’d have Gallagher behind bars and three more suspects pending a hearing by nightfall.
Duke would be receiving the call for his promotion in no time.
Logically, he knew he should be pleased. Too bad his granddad had been shooting those lightning bolts at his butt ever since he’d walked out on Amanda.
And since Duke had indulged in a few viewings of Amanda Does Manhattan, he’d essentially been target practice for the old man. Nothing was going right anymore.
Now, a promotion and the satisfaction of another star on his chest didn’t seem half as appealing as another night with Amanda.
Tonight, he was going to do something about it, because damn it all, once this case was sewn up in court, his luck was about to change.
AMANDA PUSHED HER way out of the crowded courtroom, eager to lose herself in the busy hallways. She had never been so nervous in her life as when she’d sat in the witness stand in front of a city judge. Even her interrogation with Duke while half naked had been a walk in the park compared to Victor’s attorney’s intimation that she was connected to the mob.
At least with Duke, she’d had the benefit of her lust to keep her warm.
On the witness stand, she shivered from the blasts of cold detachment of the people around her, Victor’s blatantly disrespectful stare and the impassive audience provided by the woman who’d judged the case.
Duke’s presence in the room made her even more nervous. He’d looked sleekly professional in his surprisingly understated jacket and tie, but the breadth of his wide shoulders still communicated a power and presence she knew she’d always be hard-pressed to resist. She’d been relieved when he’d risen just before she’d finished giving her testimony.
Now, she could return to her loft and put the finishing touches on her fall collection before she sent the designs out to be sewn. She’d be free from Duke Rawlins now that the last string connecting them had been severed.
Except that he lounged against the wall not ten feet ahead of her.
Amanda sucked in a breath, his sudden proximity catching her off guard. Why did those smoldering blue eyes seem to follow her every move, seem to know her too intimately? She hadn’t had time to give herself a mental pep talk about the dangers of men like Duke.
Even worse, she hadn’t had time to notch her garters up a little higher.
Her pulse leapt at the sight of him, a little fluttering jump in her veins that annoyed and distracted her. Apparently he hadn’t gone too far when he’d left the courtroom. He’d merely wanted to ambush her in the hallway. Why did he insist on pursuing her now?
“Hi, Amanda.” He pushed off the wall as she slowed to a stop in front of him. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up today.”
“I told you I would.” Would the man always doubt her integrity?
“I know, but the way I’ve been pursuing you lately, I thought you might blow it off just to avoid me.” He shrugged, his shoulders tugging his shirt and tie slightly upward.
Only then did she notice the tiepin clipped to his conservative striped tie—a small silver star.
The nearness of his body did sneaky things to her. Her senses heightened, making her keenly aware of his slightest move. The scent of the starch in his shirt, the sound of new shoe leather creaking as he shuffled his feet, the warmth emanating from him at all times.
Amanda lifted her chin, willing herself to ignore the charismatic pull of a man who would only hurt her sooner or later. Today he hadn’t trusted her to put in an appearance, probably because of her father’s rumored mob connections.
Who knew what he would be suspicious of tomorrow? She couldn’t stop being her father’s daughter no matter how much it might please Duke Rawlins.
Besides, no matter what the rest of the world thought, Amanda knew her father had never done anything illegal. He might be guilty of occasional selfishness and maybe a little vanity, but he wasn’t any more flawed than any other decent human being. One day she’d help the rest of the world to see that.
Too late.
“Not yet.” He reached for her, his hand stopping just short of her arm. “Please. Could we talk for a minute?”
Amanda didn’t know whether or not to be grateful he hadn’t touched her. She had the feeling she would start steaming if their bodies connected at any point.
While her impulses urged her to let Duke melt her with his touch, her brain reminded her she’d never known him that well, that she’d allowed herself to be swept away by him last time.
“I don’t think so.”
He didn’t step back, didn’t afford her the breathing room she needed. He filled her field of vision, blocked out the institutional walls around them.
“Give me another chance, Amanda.” He gripped her arms, gently, holding her in place.
Her skin sizzled beneath the crisp cotton of her shirt. Her body remembered his touch, craved more of it.
She’d forgotten how bold he could be, how he didn’t waste words or hide behind a lot of polite chit-chat. So different from the people who moved among the fashion elite. “Why?”
One word was all she could manage now that his hands short-circuited her brain.
“Because I want to get to know you better. I couldn’t get you out of my head the last few weeks, and I think there’s more between us than either of us ever imagined.” Intense blue eyes burned right into hers, his words tossing a match into the combustible jumble of her feelings.
“I can’t.” Or so she’d been telling herself all week when he’d left messages on her machine, or stopped by the showroom to ask her out for ice cream.
Duke would grow to resent her father’s oblivious friendships with well-known criminals. Would he grow to resent her connection to her father, too? “My life isn’t about taking risks, the way yours is.”