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Her front windshield was shattered.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn.
A rock had hit it a week ago and caused a tiny hole, but she hadn't had time to call the insurance company to get it fixed. So stupid. No way she could drive with the spiderweb of glass blocking her view. A slight buzz of panic hit, along with the now-familiar pang of anger at having her careful plans screwed up. Why now? Wasn't she doing the right thing by helping out Poppy? Did everything have to go consistently wrong on a regular basis?
She had the urge to kick the tire, so she did what she'd just taught her students. Dragged in a breath. Let it out slowly. Did it again.
Her heartbeat slowed and her mind cleared. Good, back in control. She'd walk to the billiards room. It was a long walk but doable, and a crisp fall afternoon. Of course, she'd be super late and hoped Poppy wouldn't worry.
Run. She'd run. Good exercise, and it'd cut her time in half.
She quickly stripped off her long-sleeved T-shirt until only a tight black Lycra top molded her small breasts. Catching her long hair and twisting it up in a hair band, she secured it to the top of her head, then turned.
"If I had known I'd miss out on a free striptease, I would've gotten here sooner."
She jumped back. "You scared me! What are you doing here?"
Officer Petty took a long, measured glance at her windshield. "Doing my civic duty and responding to a call. Vandalism?"
Arilyn took a casual step backward. In class, she was able to keep reminding herself of the distance between them. Here on the street, having him invading her personal space was a bit disturbing. Already she had to tip her head back just to look at him, and she was pretty tall. "Sorry, no crime to uncover here. Just a rock that hit last week and I never got it fixed."
He studied her face. To assess if she was lying? His sharp observation skills fascinated her. When under his stare, a woman felt stripped to the bone, and a tiny flare of vulnerability caught her off guard. What would it be like to be Officer Petty's lover? Did he bring that fierce brutality to the bedroom and all that intense observation to give his lover pleasure?
The memory of her ex-boyfriend's face as he pounded into another woman's body made her wince and want to rub her eyes. Another bleachable moment in her life. Would she always be thinking of him and his betrayal? Had he ruined her for future relationships and sex by not only breaking her heart but also her trust? And why the hell was she thinking of this stuff in the middle of the road with her windshield cracked and a man she didn't like screwing with her head?
His voice softened, as if he'd spotted something in those few moments of her weakness. "Hmm, driving with a shattered windshield is a crime."
"Yeah, and wouldn't that break your heart to ticket me," she shot back. "No worries, Officer. I'll get my car towed. I have to go."
"Where are you going?"
"Is that your business?"
He arched a brow. "Besides helping tow your car, I can offer you a ride. You seem to be in a hurry."
Arilyn hesitated. Her pride begged her to decline and run away with her head held high. Somehow, she had an instinct it would end up being a favor he'd want to cash in. She didn't want to owe him a thing. But Poppy had been waiting awhile, and he was more important. Besides, she could handle Stone.
Her mind said his first name with a breathy sigh and a shiver.
God, maybe Kennedy was right and she just needed plain, good old-fashioned sex. Her hormones were beginning to do a number on her.
"Thank you," she said stiffly. "I need to go to Ray's Billiards."
"Interesting choice. My chariot awaits."
He escorted her to his souped-up, overpowering muscle car. She might hate it, but it was hard not to smile at his obvious adoration for the vehicle. He actually stroked the steering wheel as he pulled out. Those long, tapered fingers were extra large but seemed tender. Would he treat a woman with a combination of roughness and care? Somehow, the idea of him being gentle shattered her composure.
Oh, my goodness. What was she thinking?
Arilyn cleared her throat and dove into a neutral topic. "Did you always want to become a cop?"
He eased the car out to the main road. "Seemed like a good way to stop the criminals. No one else was doing anything about it."
"Did you grow up in a rough neighborhood?"
"The average Bronx apartment in Woodlawn."
"What was it like?"
He shot her another glance. "Poking around in my head again?"
"Just making conversation. You don't have to answer if it's too painful."
He laughed, deep and long, and Arilyn studied his profile. Carved from granite, the roughness of his features pieced together a simple brutality that warned her this man could be dangerous. "I may be a disappointment to you, little one. I hide no secrets, and made peace with my crap a long time ago."
The distracted endearment made her tummy free fall. Maybe it was the dark, sensual melody of his voice as he said it. He'd called her that once before over the summer when they first met, and she had never forgotten it. It was so . . . intimate. Her body sprung to life, surprising her with its sudden demand for his lips over hers. Odd. She rarely had a reaction to men on such a primal, physical scale. Her poetry professor from NYU. The artist from that watercolor class she took. Her yoga teacher. And now Stone Petty.
All had ended badly. But at least she had liked the others.
If her past was any indication of luck, she'd better pass right over Stone Petty. Arilyn refocused on their conversation. "Most people have a difficult time accepting the truth of the past and who they are."
"I learned it's much easier to deal with facts and truth than with pretty lies and denials," he said. "Tell you what. I'll give you the short version of my bio and you do the same."
A warning bell clanged in her head. "I'll be sifting through your past during our individual sessions anyway."
"Thought this was a conversation," he
shot back. "What's the matter? Too above the rest of us to share?"
"I'm not above anyone," she said calmly. "I don't think it's necessary."
"I do. Tell you what. I'll keep it simple. Just answer one question from me, and I'll give you all my dirty laundry. Fair?"
The idea was tempting, but she squirmed in her seat. "This is stupid, we don't have to make a deal. Let's just keep our relationship strictly to the anger management classes and how they pertain to your treatment."
"Chicken? I bet you're so used to having everyone open up, no one ever demands the same of you. When was the last time anyone asked you questions about your past? About who you are? About what you want?"
He murmured the last question, and the heat in his seething gaze made her press hard against the door. Her heart thundered in her chest, making it difficult to take a cleansing breath. A strange surge of emotion rocked her normal calm and seeped out. "You don't know anything about me or my needs," she hissed out. "I have no trouble opening up."
"Good, then it's a deal. I'll give you the short version. Grew up in a tough Irish neighborhood where boys ended up being cops or firemen. I got jumped at the school bus when I was seven and put in the hospital. My father told me it would teach me a lesson to be either tougher or faster. I made sure I was both, and my training intensified when he began beating the crap out of me and my mother with a baseball bat. I learned how to steal, how to hide in the parks, how to survive, but I never got to save my mother. She died from a nasty fall deemed an accident. I left and dedicated myself to catching bad guys and working out my past karma with my asshole father. Thoughts?"
His speech was thorough and honest, and it broke her heart. Because beyond all that analysis was a little boy who'd never forgiven himself for not being enough. Her intrigue deepened when she realized how much more lurked beneath the surface.
What really freaked her out was how she suddenly wanted to find out.
"You nailed your anger issues and current occupation choice," she finally answered. "And though my heart breaks for the little boy you were, I've heard a bunch of horror stories that ended up far worse than yours. But it's not your mother you're still mourning, is it?"
His fingers clenched around the wheel. A dangerous cloud settled over him, holding a tinge of violence Arilyn bet would always be a part of who he was. "What are you talking about?"
