and was staring at her with an expression she couldn’t decipher. David, too, had turned around and was walking toward her. Penelope backed toward the door of the room. Surely they couldn’t get mad at her. They were the ones who had overreacted.
But she might as well not have been in the room. David advanced on Olano, his face gone pale, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Pleased with yourself, Olano? Trying to show off for Penelope, trying to show her what a hot-shot cop you used to be?”
Olano, fiddling with his gun, didn’t even look up until after he’d slipped the weapon back into his pocket. Then he shot a glance at David. “Forget it,” he said.
He turned to her and Penelope realized with a swift shot of clarity she didn’t want him to go.
“Better safe than sorry,” he said, then sketched a salute and strode out of her apartment.
Out of her life.
David slipped his gun back under his jacket, and Penelope shivered. Walking toward her, he said in a low voice, the harsh tone belying the smile on his face, “Want to tell me how you know Tony Olano?”
So his first name was Tony. Penelope tested the name in her mind. She liked it. And it suited the man with bedroom eyes.
David put his arm around her and drew her down to sit beside him on the bed.
Penelope wondered whether Tony was short for Anthony. Of course it would be. Anthony Olano. She made a face, thinking it sounded like a mobster sort of name. Maybe that was why he gave off an air of danger, but David had called him an ex-cop.
Pressure on her shoulder, a tiny bit stronger than a squeeze, brought her mind back to her bedroom. Not only was David holding her too tightly for her comfort level, they were sitting on her antique quilt. She tried to edge away, but David held her close to his side.
Tipping her chin up, he gazed steadily into her eyes in a way that made her feel uncomfortable, as if he could read every thought that swirled behind her eyes.
“Olano,” he said, not letting go, “is a very dangerous man. Not someone a woman like you, particularly a lawyer, needs to be associating with.”
So he was dangerous. Penelope realized with surprise that that trait attracted rather than repulsed her. “What did he do?”
Hinson let go of her chin. She kept her gaze fixed on his face, watching his expression shift and his eyes narrow as he said, “Olano was a cop who just couldn’t mind his own business. Always butting in, never following procedure.” David gestured around her bedroom. “Look what he did today. Same sort of impulsive behavior. Thinks he’s spotted a crime and barges in. Not the sort of cop that makes for true law and order.”
Penelope started to comment that David had rushed right into the bedroom alongside Olano, but she held her tongue. David didn’t look too open to criticism at the moment.
“And the funny thing is that he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar and was bounced from the force in disgrace.”
“What—” Penelope started to ask for specifics, the lawyer in her uncomfortable with such a vague description.
“Forget Olano,” David interrupted, putting both his arms around her.
Penelope knew he wanted to kiss her. She’d let him kiss her once before, but kissing while sitting on her bed smacked too much of an invitation she wasn’t ready to offer David yet, if at all.
He stroked a hand over her hair. “What happened to that chic French braid?”
She stiffened. Of course he’d noticed how uncharacteristically unkempt she appeared. Pulling her hair into a semblance of order behind her neck, she said, “Fainting is hard on one’s looks, you know.”
“So I see,” David said, reaching for the neckline of her blouse. “Maybe you should slip into something fresher.”
She caught his hand with hers. “David . . .”
“Yes?” Twisting his head down to hers, he covered her lips with his. His mouth was hot and demanding and Penelope knew she should respond. But all she could think
But she might as well not have been in the room. David advanced on Olano, his face gone pale, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Pleased with yourself, Olano? Trying to show off for Penelope, trying to show her what a hot-shot cop you used to be?”
Olano, fiddling with his gun, didn’t even look up until after he’d slipped the weapon back into his pocket. Then he shot a glance at David. “Forget it,” he said.
He turned to her and Penelope realized with a swift shot of clarity she didn’t want him to go.
“Better safe than sorry,” he said, then sketched a salute and strode out of her apartment.
Out of her life.
David slipped his gun back under his jacket, and Penelope shivered. Walking toward her, he said in a low voice, the harsh tone belying the smile on his face, “Want to tell me how you know Tony Olano?”
So his first name was Tony. Penelope tested the name in her mind. She liked it. And it suited the man with bedroom eyes.
David put his arm around her and drew her down to sit beside him on the bed.
Penelope wondered whether Tony was short for Anthony. Of course it would be. Anthony Olano. She made a face, thinking it sounded like a mobster sort of name. Maybe that was why he gave off an air of danger, but David had called him an ex-cop.
Pressure on her shoulder, a tiny bit stronger than a squeeze, brought her mind back to her bedroom. Not only was David holding her too tightly for her comfort level, they were sitting on her antique quilt. She tried to edge away, but David held her close to his side.
Tipping her chin up, he gazed steadily into her eyes in a way that made her feel uncomfortable, as if he could read every thought that swirled behind her eyes.
“Olano,” he said, not letting go, “is a very dangerous man. Not someone a woman like you, particularly a lawyer, needs to be associating with.”
So he was dangerous. Penelope realized with surprise that that trait attracted rather than repulsed her. “What did he do?”
Hinson let go of her chin. She kept her gaze fixed on his face, watching his expression shift and his eyes narrow as he said, “Olano was a cop who just couldn’t mind his own business. Always butting in, never following procedure.” David gestured around her bedroom. “Look what he did today. Same sort of impulsive behavior. Thinks he’s spotted a crime and barges in. Not the sort of cop that makes for true law and order.”
Penelope started to comment that David had rushed right into the bedroom alongside Olano, but she held her tongue. David didn’t look too open to criticism at the moment.
“And the funny thing is that he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar and was bounced from the force in disgrace.”
“What—” Penelope started to ask for specifics, the lawyer in her uncomfortable with such a vague description.
“Forget Olano,” David interrupted, putting both his arms around her.
Penelope knew he wanted to kiss her. She’d let him kiss her once before, but kissing while sitting on her bed smacked too much of an invitation she wasn’t ready to offer David yet, if at all.
He stroked a hand over her hair. “What happened to that chic French braid?”
She stiffened. Of course he’d noticed how uncharacteristically unkempt she appeared. Pulling her hair into a semblance of order behind her neck, she said, “Fainting is hard on one’s looks, you know.”
“So I see,” David said, reaching for the neckline of her blouse. “Maybe you should slip into something fresher.”
She caught his hand with hers. “David . . .”
“Yes?” Twisting his head down to hers, he covered her lips with his. His mouth was hot and demanding and Penelope knew she should respond. But all she could think
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