Internal Affair. Marie Ferrarella

told you, that’s my sister’s department. You can’t help picking up a few things if it’s always playing in the background.”

      That was the second time he’d mentioned his sister. She paused to study him for a moment. “Are you close, you and your sister?” And then she answered her own questions. “Silly question, I guess.”

      The computer network was down, temporarily halting the exchange of information that would allow him to get the name of the owner of the dead woman’s sports car. Sometimes progress created nothing but stumbling blocks, he thought with annoyance. He didn’t bother sparing Maggi a glance. “Only if you think that I’m going to give you an answer.”

      “So what are you, like, the Lone Ranger?”

      It became obvious to him that subtlety was lost on her. She was probably the kind who had to be dislodged with a two-by-four or a crowbar. “The position of Tonto is not open.”

      Since he didn’t look up, Maggi found herself staring at the top of his head. He had deep, straight black hair, the kind that tempted a woman to touch, to feather her fingers through it. She purposely slipped her hands under her as she sat.

      “That’s okay, I don’t do sidekicks—I do partners.”

      He finally looked up. “Aside from catching bullets with your bare teeth?” The expression on his face grew darker. “What the hell were you thinking at the bank?”

      Another wisecrack was on the tip of her tongue, but then, she decided to tell him the truth. She’d acted because she was afraid.

      “That he was going to fire on you if you drew your weapon the way you were planning to.” And then, because it was getting too serious, she added, “I didn’t want to lose a partner before I won you over with my sparkling personality.”

      “How did you know what I was going to do?”

      “I saw it in your eyes,” she said simply. “Sometimes, you can’t go in like the Lone Ranger. Sometimes you have to go in like Fay Wray.”

      He stared at her. “Come again?”

      “Fay Wray. The woman in King Kong.” There was still no recognition in his face. “The screamer.”

      “You didn’t scream.”

      “No, but I got properly hysterical. Enough to throw him off and get the drop on him.” Because it was obviously causing friction, she didn’t want to continue talking about the foiled bank robbery. “Anyway, it’s over. C’mon, Cavanaugh.” Playfully she tugged on his arm. “My stomach’s rumbling.”

      He shrugged her off. “No one’s stopping you from going to lunch.”

      “I hate to eat alone.” She would have pouted prettily if she’d thought it would work, but she knew it wouldn’t. Cavanaugh wasn’t the type to go out of his way to please a woman.

      He glanced at her before going back to his report. “Go to a crowded restaurant.”

      “I’d rather go to lunch with my partner.” She didn’t like being ignored and he was doing a royal job of it. This time, when she tugged on his arm, it was a hard jerk to get him to look at her again. “Hey, you owe me.”

      Her words more than her action earned his attention. He raised his head, his eyes penetrating her inner layers. “I owe you?”

      She could see how he could make someone squirm. She felt like squirming and she wasn’t the one who was supposed to be sitting on the hot seat.

      “Sure, I told you I’d have your back and I did. Only it turned out to be your front, but—” she shrugged “—same difference. Now, are you going to come with me or do I push that chair of yours all the way to the elevator and make you come with me?”

      He didn’t have time for stupidity. He didn’t know why he was bothering to answer her or even acknowledge her. “You wouldn’t dare.”

      She grinned, her eyes gaining a mischievous glint he found oddly arousing. The blow to his gut came out of nowhere. He sent it back to the same address.

      “Cavanaugh,” she informed him, “I was the kid who never walked away from a dare.”

      He snorted. “You must have made your parents very proud.”

      “No, just gray.” Maggi’s eyes shifted down to the chair he was sitting in, then back to his face. “Your chair’s got wheels and I know how to use them.”

      Patrick had every intention of continuing to say no, but the woman had the tendencies of an annoying gnat. He knew damn well that she’d keep after him until he either really snapped at her or gave in. And he had to admit the truth: he was hungry.

      “Okay.” Hitting the save button on the keyboard, he rose to his feet. “But you’ve got to stop sounding as if someone put your mouth in the fast forward mode.” If it ever stopped moving, it might prove to be a tempting target.

      Her mouth was quick to curve. “Deal.”

      Yeah, he thought, with the devil.

      As he followed her out the door, he remembered reading a passage that said something about the devil having the ability to assume a very pleasing shape. He watched the rhythmic sway of her hips.

      Looked like the devil had definitely outdone himself this time.

      Maggi offered him his choice of places. He picked a pizzeria that had more seats outside than in. She ate three slices with the December wind chilling her food. He seemed more interested in observing the people on the street than in listening to anything she said.

      It was a power play, she knew that. She had invaded his territory and he was suspicious of her. He had no idea how suspicious he should have been, she thought. Or maybe he knew. The worst thing in the world was to underestimate your opponent. And he was that. Her opponent, her assignment. Not her partner. This kept life interesting. And damn complicated.

      “You’ve got a healthy appetite,” he commented when she reached for her fourth piece.

      “He speaks. Wow.”

      “Forget I said anything.”

      “No, please, now that the floodgates have opened up, continue.” When he made no comment, she shook her head. “You keep this up and I’m going to be forced to practice my ventriloquist act on you.”

      “Your what?”

      “That’s when the sane person makes the wooden creation beside her talk. In other words, putting words into your mouth. Like ‘Thanks for the lunch, Maggi. Remind me to return the favor.”’

      Patrick stared at her. She’d done a fair imitation of his voice, all without moving her lips.

      “Want me to continue?” she offered.

      “No, you made your point.” He rose, passing a ten in her direction. “You’re crazy.”

      “I said lunch was on me.” She was on her feet, striding after him to the car. Catching up, she pushed the money back into his pocket. “Do we have to argue about this, too?”

      He felt her hand as she withdrew it from his pants pocket. The tightening in his loins was purely instinctive. And annoying. As was she.

      “Why not? You seem to like it.”

      She pulled open the door on her side and got in. “I’d like a little agreement better.” Buckling her seat belt, she sighed. “Tell you what, I’ll let you yell at me some more if you want to.”

      About to start the car, he paused to look at her. “I don’t yell.”

      “Okay, growl. Lip-synch, something. Just talk. Say something, anything.”

      “Why?” Starting the car, he pulled out of the parking area.

      “Because I want to get to know you.