The Cop And The Chorus Girl. Nancy Martin

not a violent man. But sometimes he loses his temper.”

      “And then what happens?”

      “He shouts a lot,” she admitted, studying her apple. “I hate shouting, so I’d like to avoid him. I want somebody around for a few days while I take care of some business.”

      “What kind of business?”

      “Theater stuff. Don’t worry.”

      But Flynn was worried. As a cop he knew he’d never get a better chance to get the goods on Joey Torrano. The Organized Crime Unit had spent the past two years trying to dig up evidence to use against the nefarious mob boss, but nothing useful had landed in the laps of the police. Until now.

      But looking at Dixie Davis as she sat on the sofa nibbling her apple and looking anything but prim, Flynn knew it would take a stronger man than himself to resist her charms long enough to locate some evidence against her mobster boyfriend.

      She looked up, and her blue eyes seemed endlessly deep as she awaited Flynn’s answer. Her bottom lip was moist from the apple. Her blond hair wisped delicately along her temples, and Flynn’s fingers itched to brush it away from her brows. There he’d press light, nibbling kisses.

      “What do you say?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts. “I could pay you—oh, a hundred dollars a day. Plus expenses if you don’t like expensive restaurants. How about it?”

      Flynn didn’t trust his voice and cleared his throat before speaking. “You don’t know anything about me.”

      She smiled. “I’m a quick judge of character.”

      “Quick doesn’t mean good. Maybe I’m your worst enemy.”

      “I don’t kiss my worst enemies,” she said softly. “And they don’t kiss me back the way you did.”

      Flynn’s mouth went completely dry. “Miss Davis—”

      “I have rules about men,” she said quickly. “I don’t let anybody get too close. I know what I look like—some kind of cheap call girl, right?”

      “Not right now.”

      With a wry smile, she ruffled her short hair. “But most of the time I look like a hooker on parade. Believe me, I know. It’s all an act, though. It’s show business. But I’ve learned not to trust men, you see. When I’m all dolled up, I know what most guys are after. But you’re different.”

      “Maybe not very different,” Flynn said dryly, thinking about the erotic fantasies he’d already indulged in.

      She laughed lightly. “Yes, different. When I saw you on your motorcycle, you had a look in your eye. Kind of faraway. But definitely trustworthy.”

      Flynn bristled. “Believe me, Miss Davis, I’m not a Boy Scout.”

      “Let’s put it this way,” she said hastily. “You looked safe. And you turned out to be the right man for the job today. Couldn’t you stick with it a little longer?”

      Flynn hesitated. “How long are we talking about?”

      Her expression brightened. “A couple of days, that’s all I need to clear up a few things. You could stay here and sleep on the sofa. Please?”

      The sight of her ingenuous smile made Flynn’s heart turn over. With her simple haircut and no makeup, she was even more appealing than the woman who’d kissed him in the street. This one was just as sexy, though. Just as beautiful. And she wore her heart on her sleeve.

      He quelled the response that rose within him and said, “I have to make a phone call first. In private.”

      “Sure!” She bounded off the sofa and threw her arms around his shoulders. “Oh, Flynn, I really appreciate this!”

      She felt fabulous in his arms—her body lithe and full, her perfume sweet and tantalizing. How could she avoid sensing how turned on he was by her? She brushed another quick, electrifying kiss on Flynn’s cheek and sent a dizzying smile up at him.

      “Thanks.”

      Then she hurried away to the bedroom and closed the door, leaving Flynn stunned and shaken. He waited until his blood pressure returned to normal before making contact with his superior officer.

      Flynn telephoned Sergeant Dominick Kello, currently in charge of the Torrano investigation within the Organized Crime Unit of the N.Y.P.D. Flynn got through to the sergeant quickly and summarized his situation.

      Sergeant Kello could hardly believe their good fortune. “This is the best break we’ve had in months!”

      “I’m not so sure,” Flynn began. “What if I jeopardize the case?”

      “What case? We haven’t got a case! Maybe you’ll finally get something we can use!”

      “But she seems pretty innocent to me—”

      “This is great!” crowed the sergeant, not hearing a word Flynn was saying. He covered the receiver, no doubt jubilantly announcing the news to the rest of the squad room. Flynn could hear the excited cheers and catcalls of his fellow cops as they heard where he was. Then the sergeant came back on the line. “Stick as close as you can, Flynn. Be her bodyguard, her chauffeur, her frigging costume changer if you have to!”

      “I think that would be a very bad idea.”

      “It’s a damn brilliant idea! Why are you so uptight?”

      “Because she’s—”

      Again the sergeant’s voice cut across his. “Listen, Flynn. Do you have any idea how many guys would kill for this assignment? All you have to do is hang around a beautiful woman!”

      An extremely attractive woman, Flynn thought, clenching his jaw. Did Sergeant Kello have any idea how difficult it might be to simply think straight in the presence of somebody as sexy as Dixie Davis?

      “Just stay there,” his boss commanded. “Do whatever you have to do to get us some information we can use to nail Torrano. Got that, Flynn? Whatever you have to do!”

      Three

      Dixie emerged from her bedroom wearing her huge wig again, along with a pair of fire-engine red cowboy boots, her tight blue jeans and a mouth-watering T-shirt. She carried a slouchy canvas bag over her shoulder and twirled a pair of cactus-shaped sunglasses in one hand.

      Flynn put down the newspaper he’d been pretending to read after snooping through her suite. He had told himself he’d better snoop to keep himself from peeking through her bedroom keyhole.

      At once, he noticed she was ready to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?”

      “To the theater, of course.”

      He sat up straight. “The what?”

      “I’ve got a show to do!”

      Flynn scrambled up from the sofa. “What do you mean, a show? This was supposed to be your wedding day!”

      “I’m the star of The Flatfoot and the Floozie,” she reminded him simply. “I’ve got seven shows a week—including matinees on Wednesday and Sunday. Unless I’m dying, I have to go to the theater.”

      “But—but—” Flynn found himself sputtering with amazement. “I thought you wanted to hide from Joey Torrano! How can you do that on a Broadway stage?”

      “That’s your job,” she said with a laugh. “You’re my new bodyguard, remember?”

      “You can’t possibly—I don’t believe—”

      But Dixie whirled away from him in a flounce of blond wig. Flynn tailed her to the door, where she checked her appearance one more time in the gilded mirror that hung there. Her reflection was enough to take a strong man’s breath away.