funny. It saw her through the tuna and pappardelle,
the pear and arugula salad with balsamic vinegar, and several bites of Alex’s
twelve-ounce bistecca fiorentina that he insisted she try.
It was delicious. He was delicious, perfect.
Oh God .
Caitlin had simply
assumed that Alex Cruz was a job-obsessed monomaniac and that the police
station was his natural habitat. He’d looked so at home there, with basically
the whole station house at his beck and call. King of all he surveyed.
A one-dimensional man,
even one as preternaturally sexy and attractive as Alex, was easy to resist in
the long run. Monomaniacs are notoriously humor-challenged, devoid of all
irony. Bad conversationalists, self-obsessed.
She’d dated her share of
them, though to be honest, her type of monomaniac was usually an academic with
an unholy interest in Tibetan literature or Italian opera buffa or Dutch
voting patterns.
Though in theory she
liked men, she did have to admit that they could be monumentally boring, and
she’d expected Alex to be no different from the rest of his gender, only sexier
than most. Happy only in one place, doing one thing.
And yet here he was,
perfectly at home in this trendy, upscale eatery. Making light, fascinating
conversation. Suave and urbane. So attractive it should be illegal.
This was so not
good. Caitlin had never felt such a powerful, magnetic attraction to a man
before. She hadn’t even known she was capable of it. Last night’s kiss and
explosive climax was way off her radar. It was hard enough to keep her cool
around him and not melt into a puddle at his feet when she thought he was just
a tough, hard-assed cop. Good-looking, okay, that was a given—but horrifically
lousy relationship material. A man who, out of bed, would bore her to death in
the long run. That man was no temptation at all, other than sexual, though God
knew that was bad enough.
Who knew sex was high on
her list of priorities? It was news to her. If Caitlin had to list things that
gave her pleasure, sex would probably be embarrassingly low on the list. Well,
considering what her sex life had been up until now, finding a new library
archive was infinitely more exciting than going to bed with William
Trudloe or Marvin the Unreliable. But there it was, a statistical outlier—her
treacherous body had lit up like a Christmas tree the instant Alex had touched
her.
A worldly,
sophisticated, entertaining Alex was truly frightening because he made her
yearn. A worldly, sophisticated, entertaining sex god was guaranteed to ruin
her for other men forever.
Caitlin made it a point
not to yearn after what she couldn’t have. She was really good at it because
she’d had a lot of practice. Over the past few years, she’d watched high school
and college friends get jobs and start rising through the ranks of life. Most
of her nonacademic friends owned their own homes, bought designer clothes,
drove fancy cars, ate at restaurants reviewed in newspapers and went on
vacations to exotic places. Caitlin had known when she opted for the academic
life that these things would be hers only later in life, if ever.
They’d also gotten
engaged and then married. Or at least settled into steady relationships. She
rarely admitted to herself how much it hurt to watch friends pairing up, while
she seemed so relentlessly… alone all the time.
So it was a very good
thing she’d decided early on in her career that she wasn’t going to pine after
the unobtainable.
Wanting a real
relationship with Alex Cruz would break her heart. After last night, she’d
factored in that they might have an affair if her willpower suddenly decided to
take a hike. It wasn’t very professional, but then she’d only have to deal with
him professionally for another week or so. It wasn’t as if he were a colleague
or someone she’d have to work with on a steady basis, which would be a real
no-no.
So, yes, if she had to
be honest with herself, hot sex for the first time in her
the pear and arugula salad with balsamic vinegar, and several bites of Alex’s
twelve-ounce bistecca fiorentina that he insisted she try.
It was delicious. He was delicious, perfect.
Oh God .
Caitlin had simply
assumed that Alex Cruz was a job-obsessed monomaniac and that the police
station was his natural habitat. He’d looked so at home there, with basically
the whole station house at his beck and call. King of all he surveyed.
A one-dimensional man,
even one as preternaturally sexy and attractive as Alex, was easy to resist in
the long run. Monomaniacs are notoriously humor-challenged, devoid of all
irony. Bad conversationalists, self-obsessed.
She’d dated her share of
them, though to be honest, her type of monomaniac was usually an academic with
an unholy interest in Tibetan literature or Italian opera buffa or Dutch
voting patterns.
Though in theory she
liked men, she did have to admit that they could be monumentally boring, and
she’d expected Alex to be no different from the rest of his gender, only sexier
than most. Happy only in one place, doing one thing.
And yet here he was,
perfectly at home in this trendy, upscale eatery. Making light, fascinating
conversation. Suave and urbane. So attractive it should be illegal.
This was so not
good. Caitlin had never felt such a powerful, magnetic attraction to a man
before. She hadn’t even known she was capable of it. Last night’s kiss and
explosive climax was way off her radar. It was hard enough to keep her cool
around him and not melt into a puddle at his feet when she thought he was just
a tough, hard-assed cop. Good-looking, okay, that was a given—but horrifically
lousy relationship material. A man who, out of bed, would bore her to death in
the long run. That man was no temptation at all, other than sexual, though God
knew that was bad enough.
Who knew sex was high on
her list of priorities? It was news to her. If Caitlin had to list things that
gave her pleasure, sex would probably be embarrassingly low on the list. Well,
considering what her sex life had been up until now, finding a new library
archive was infinitely more exciting than going to bed with William
Trudloe or Marvin the Unreliable. But there it was, a statistical outlier—her
treacherous body had lit up like a Christmas tree the instant Alex had touched
her.
A worldly,
sophisticated, entertaining Alex was truly frightening because he made her
yearn. A worldly, sophisticated, entertaining sex god was guaranteed to ruin
her for other men forever.
Caitlin made it a point
not to yearn after what she couldn’t have. She was really good at it because
she’d had a lot of practice. Over the past few years, she’d watched high school
and college friends get jobs and start rising through the ranks of life. Most
of her nonacademic friends owned their own homes, bought designer clothes,
drove fancy cars, ate at restaurants reviewed in newspapers and went on
vacations to exotic places. Caitlin had known when she opted for the academic
life that these things would be hers only later in life, if ever.
They’d also gotten
engaged and then married. Or at least settled into steady relationships. She
rarely admitted to herself how much it hurt to watch friends pairing up, while
she seemed so relentlessly… alone all the time.
So it was a very good
thing she’d decided early on in her career that she wasn’t going to pine after
the unobtainable.
Wanting a real
relationship with Alex Cruz would break her heart. After last night, she’d
factored in that they might have an affair if her willpower suddenly decided to
take a hike. It wasn’t very professional, but then she’d only have to deal with
him professionally for another week or so. It wasn’t as if he were a colleague
or someone she’d have to work with on a steady basis, which would be a real
no-no.
So, yes, if she had to
be honest with herself, hot sex for the first time in her