fair exchange.”
Mal’s eyes met his briefly. In that second they had the same haunted look they’d had in Ruby’s when she’d given him back the photo-fit picture.
“Forget it,” she said. “That’s all there is. I’m the least interesting woman on the planet.”
Suddenly she looked different—lost and forlorn. Harry shook his head. He just didn’t get it.
Then she tilted her chin and gave him that dazzling smile that lit up her face. “Just joking, Harry. Just joking.”
The waiter removed their plates and they sat silently for a moment, looking at each other.
“So why the full psychological breakdown on me?” he asked. “I’m not likely to be on your show, though I can’t figure out why. But I’m warning you, I’m still working on it.”
She ran her fingers up and down the stem of her glass, then said softly, “Perhaps I was interested in what made a man like you tick. What your motives might really be for asking me to dinner.”
“And what about your motives for accepting my invitation?”
Tension crackled between them as their eyes locked. “I just wondered what you were really like,” she said, looking innocent.
Harry ran his hand thoughtfully across the stubble that was already darkening his jaw. “Am I to understand it was just an
abstract
thought? Or are you thinking of getting to know me better, Malone?”
She gave him that cool little smile again. “Just joking, detective. I couldn’t resist.”
He sighed regretfully. “I was hoping it was sexual harassment.”
He watched, amazed, as she tucked into her dinner. She looked as though she lived on fresh air and rosy apples, not real food. He said, “You eat as though you haven’t had a square meal in a long time.”
“I haven’t. I’ve been on twelve hundred calories a day for the past week. And when I was a kid, I never had goodfood. Sometimes no food at all. I guess that’s the reason I enjoy it now.”
Finally she had revealed something about herself—a small chink in her protective armor. He said, “You surprise me. I imagined you came from the sort of nice home we all dream about. You know, with Mom in the kitchen cooking up great meals, Dad mowing the lawn or shooting baskets with his sons, taking his family fishing. You making cheerleader and homecoming queen, and all the guys competing to take you to the prom.”
“It’s a nice image.” She sat back in her chair, her arms folded defensively over her chest. “Unfortunately, we are not all born with silver spoons in our mouths, like you, Harry Jordan.”
“True, but neither one is anything to be ashamed of.”
She gave a skeptical laugh. “And how would you know? You probably didn’t even know what the wrong side of the tracks looked like until you became a cop.”
“Is that where you lived then? On the wrong side of town?”
“I was discussing the matter in the abstract. It’s my job to know how the other half lives.”
“Mine too.”
She glanced reflectively at him. “So what does a guy like you usually do on his nights off?”
“You know me through and through. Why don’t you tell me?”
“You hit the night life—those little hole-in-the-wall salsa clubs you seem to like. You’re a hot dancer, you’re a wine connoisseur. You enjoy good food in charming little restaurants like Arlette’s, and women find you attractive.”
“We’re back to that again.”
She leveled that cool innocent look at him one more time. “Funny how it keeps cropping up. Look, Detective Harry, I hate to break the spell between us, but I have todo the Cinderella act. I’m taping a show first thing in the morning, and I need to get some sleep.”
“Pity. I thought I was just getting to know you.”
“Is
that
what you thought?” She threw him a mocking glance over her shoulder as she headed for the ladies’ room.
He shook his head, watching her weave gracefully through the tables. It was not what he thought. In fact he thought he didn’t know much
Mal’s eyes met his briefly. In that second they had the same haunted look they’d had in Ruby’s when she’d given him back the photo-fit picture.
“Forget it,” she said. “That’s all there is. I’m the least interesting woman on the planet.”
Suddenly she looked different—lost and forlorn. Harry shook his head. He just didn’t get it.
Then she tilted her chin and gave him that dazzling smile that lit up her face. “Just joking, Harry. Just joking.”
The waiter removed their plates and they sat silently for a moment, looking at each other.
“So why the full psychological breakdown on me?” he asked. “I’m not likely to be on your show, though I can’t figure out why. But I’m warning you, I’m still working on it.”
She ran her fingers up and down the stem of her glass, then said softly, “Perhaps I was interested in what made a man like you tick. What your motives might really be for asking me to dinner.”
“And what about your motives for accepting my invitation?”
Tension crackled between them as their eyes locked. “I just wondered what you were really like,” she said, looking innocent.
Harry ran his hand thoughtfully across the stubble that was already darkening his jaw. “Am I to understand it was just an
abstract
thought? Or are you thinking of getting to know me better, Malone?”
She gave him that cool little smile again. “Just joking, detective. I couldn’t resist.”
He sighed regretfully. “I was hoping it was sexual harassment.”
He watched, amazed, as she tucked into her dinner. She looked as though she lived on fresh air and rosy apples, not real food. He said, “You eat as though you haven’t had a square meal in a long time.”
“I haven’t. I’ve been on twelve hundred calories a day for the past week. And when I was a kid, I never had goodfood. Sometimes no food at all. I guess that’s the reason I enjoy it now.”
Finally she had revealed something about herself—a small chink in her protective armor. He said, “You surprise me. I imagined you came from the sort of nice home we all dream about. You know, with Mom in the kitchen cooking up great meals, Dad mowing the lawn or shooting baskets with his sons, taking his family fishing. You making cheerleader and homecoming queen, and all the guys competing to take you to the prom.”
“It’s a nice image.” She sat back in her chair, her arms folded defensively over her chest. “Unfortunately, we are not all born with silver spoons in our mouths, like you, Harry Jordan.”
“True, but neither one is anything to be ashamed of.”
She gave a skeptical laugh. “And how would you know? You probably didn’t even know what the wrong side of the tracks looked like until you became a cop.”
“Is that where you lived then? On the wrong side of town?”
“I was discussing the matter in the abstract. It’s my job to know how the other half lives.”
“Mine too.”
She glanced reflectively at him. “So what does a guy like you usually do on his nights off?”
“You know me through and through. Why don’t you tell me?”
“You hit the night life—those little hole-in-the-wall salsa clubs you seem to like. You’re a hot dancer, you’re a wine connoisseur. You enjoy good food in charming little restaurants like Arlette’s, and women find you attractive.”
“We’re back to that again.”
She leveled that cool innocent look at him one more time. “Funny how it keeps cropping up. Look, Detective Harry, I hate to break the spell between us, but I have todo the Cinderella act. I’m taping a show first thing in the morning, and I need to get some sleep.”
“Pity. I thought I was just getting to know you.”
“Is
that
what you thought?” She threw him a mocking glance over her shoulder as she headed for the ladies’ room.
He shook his head, watching her weave gracefully through the tables. It was not what he thought. In fact he thought he didn’t know much
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