Burnout (NYPD Blue & Gold) (5 page)

A glance at her face told him she was impatiently waiting for his opinion.
Let ’er wait.
He’d compliment her when he was damn good and ready and not a moment sooner. After swallowing two more mouthfuls, Mike put down his spoon. He squinted and stared at the ceiling, pretending to be deep in thought.

“Well?” she prodded.

“Patience, Chef Cassie.” Mike scratched his chin. “My palate is still undecided.”

Now it was her turn to strum her fingers on the counter.

When he couldn’t hold it in any longer, he laughed and admitted, “You were right. The chili
is
kick-ass.” When she narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth, he held up his hand. “Don’t start. That crack wasn’t directed at your backside.”

A smile lit Cassie’s face, and it did something odd to the inside of Mike’s chest. Like his heart skipped a beat.
Shit.
He jammed another spoonful of chili into his mouth and swallowed. “What’s that spicy smokiness?” The chili packed more punch than he’d originally thought.

“Chipotle.” She leaned her forearm against the counter. Her red shirt hugged her breasts tighter, and he nearly choked. “It’s smoked jalapeños.”

Mike tore his eyes from her chest. “Uh, it adds great flavor.”

A mischievous glint flashed in her green eyes. “Is it hot enough for you?”

With his spoon halfway to his mouth, he paused and locked eyes with hers. No doubt about it. The woman knew exactly what she was doing to him. “Hot, but not too hot. No sense adding more fuel to a fire. It’s perfect the way it is.”

“Thank you, officer.” Her lips twitched. “Coming from you, I guess that makes it official.” She tallied his bill and slapped it onto the counter beside his bowl.

Mike wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Do you ever say anything that isn’t antagonistic?”

“Of course.” She grinned, the way a witch grins right before turning someone into a toad. “When the situation warrants it.”

Jesus, Cassie might be all soft and womanly on the outside, but her disposition had a core of steel that could rival a prison inmate’s.

Prison?

Mike narrowed his eyes. She didn’t fit the prison profile, but it sure would explain the disgusted look she’d had on her face when she saw him in uniform.

“So is it me or the uniform?” he asked.

Cassie let out an unladylike snort. “You’re the cop. You figure it out.” She flicked her eyes to the front door once more before pivoting and walking her shapely ass back into the kitchen.

Mike noted one of the town’s locals heading out the door, and he wondered why the Nest’s new chef was surveilling the door as if a terrorist was about to walk in and shoot up the place.

As he finished his lunch, he could see her through the kitchen opening, chopping carrots like she wanted to kill them. Every time her knife hit the cutting board, it echoed loudly enough for him to hear above the surrounding noise of the restaurant. Maybe she was imagining each carrot was his neck. When she glanced up and found him watching her, she frowned and went back to killing carrots. Mike held back a snort. Even while murdering produce, she wielded cutlery with the grace and precision of a master chef. Probably the kind of woman who’d get all gooey-eyed at receiving a Bowie knife for Christmas.

The tip Mike left on the counter was more than generous, considering Cassie’s prickly service. He stood and walked to the register, shaking his head.

What did I do to piss off a total stranger? And why the hell do I care?

I don’t.

As much as it annoyed him, he still couldn’t forget their first meeting a week ago. He hadn’t felt as charged since throwing the winning touchdown pass in his college championship game. He could have sworn Cassie had felt it, too. Maybe not the football thing. But he hadn’t done well with relationships in a long time. Not since…

Mike rubbed the scar on his forehead. That was a time in his life he’d just as soon stop remembering. Too freaking painful. His only interest in Cassie Younger was professional. There was more to her than she let on.

Yeah, that’s it. Professional concern.

“What do you think of my new chef?” Rose took the bill from his hand to ring him up.

“She makes the best chili I ever had.” He turned to see Cassie had taken a break from attacking produce. She stood on the dining room side of the counter, holding a newborn baby swaddled in a pink blanket. The baby’s mother settled herself at the counter while Cassie cooed and smiled at the infant. The two women struck up a conversation he couldn’t hear, but the customer chatted with Cassie like they were old friends. As he continued watching, Cassie drew another patron into the conversation, and for some unfathomable reason Mike couldn’t tear his gaze away. Maybe it was the gentleness with which she held the baby, or the unexpected ease she had with people. Apparently Chef Cassie loved babies and her customers, but hated cops. Then again maybe it
was
just him.

“Earth to Chief Flannery,” Rose said with sarcasm. “So?” She raised her brows suggestively.

Mike turned back to her. “
So
what?”

Rose gave him a disbelieving look. “I saw the way you and Cassie stared at each other last week before you left for Albany. The sparks between you could have set off the entire building.”

“That was before she knew I was a cop. Don’t go playing matchmaker, Ms. Newcomb.” He gave her a pointed look meant to squash any romantic thoughts. “Your new chef doesn’t like me much, and she made sure I knew it. More importantly, I’m not interested.” He pocketed the change Rose handed him and winked. “I’ll be sure to give Jimmy your regards.”

“Don’t you dare say anything to encourage him!” She widened her eyes. “Jimmy and I are just friends.”

“Whatever you say, Rose.” Mike grinned over his shoulder before he escaped out the door, wishing like hell everyone would quit trying to hook him up. Particularly with irritating, high-maintenance women. No matter how beautiful she was, he’d bet his badge trouble followed Cassie Younger like a shadow.

…

Cassie admired Mike’s athletic gait through the window as he walked to a black Ford Explorer with a gold police emblem emblazoned on the door. Before he got into the truck, he waved to a couple of kids racing down the street on bicycles.

The man was charming and didn’t even know it. From what she could see and hear, the men liked him, the waitresses loved him, and every female customer ogled him as if he were a Greek god. Well, he pretty much was. The muscles on his forearms were as cut as a piece of Swarovski crystal. His face couldn’t be any more handsome. Ignoring the hypocrisy of the thought, Cassie noted that his ass looked as great in uniform as in the jeans he’d worn last week.

Maybe it was a good thing he was off-limits, per her own personal rule about never dating a cop again. Besides, this wasn’t exactly a good time to get close to anyone, especially someone whose business it was to ask a lot of questions. Questions she couldn’t answer without exposing her identity or leaving a trail directly to her and Hopewell Springs.

And there was definitely more to Mike Flannery than just a hot body in a uniform. The man was a good cop with good instincts. He’d caught her keeping tabs on the front door, and she’d seen the suspicion in his eyes. All the more reason to keep her time in this town short. Laying low as she was, she’d have to rely on Gray and Dom to make quick progress in the hit-man investigation.

“Cassie? Honey, are you in there?”

Cassie blinked as she realized Rose was waving a hand in front of her face. “Huh?”

“He’s not married,” she said.

“Who’s not married?”

“Mike. The man whose tight buns you can’t take your eyes off. Here.” She grabbed a napkin. “Let me wipe the drool from your mouth.”

Cassie swatted her hand away. “I was
not
drooling, and I wasn’t watching him, either.”

Although she feigned annoyance at Rose’s teasing, Cassie couldn’t help smiling. She loved the instant friendship that had sprung between them over the last week. They shared a lot in common, including the dream of opening a fancy, high-end eatery someday. Rose had explained she had her eye on a prime location just outside of town for her new restaurant and was waiting for the property to go on the market.

“Uh-huh, sure you weren’t watching him.” Rose’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Mike is the town’s most eligible bachelor and any red-blooded woman can see why. Not only is he gorgeous, but he’s nice. And you made him laugh. Loudly. A near-impossible feat for a man who keeps his emotions locked up tight. So, why don’t you like him?”

“I never said I didn’t like him.” Although she
had
been a bit over-the-top hostile to him. She really ought to have played it cooler.

“Mike said you don’t.” Rose rang up another customer. “He doesn’t think you like cops.”

Cassie rolled her eyes at the irony. “It’s not that I don’t like them, I just don’t want to date one.” And it had been impossible to hide her intense disappointment that Mike
was
one.

“Why not?” Rose raised her brows.

“I went out with a couple of cops.”
Try a dozen.
“All they ever wanted to talk about was how many arrests they made in a week, like it was tied to the size of their manhood. Being ‘on-the-job’”—she hooked her fingers into quotation marks—“was the only thing in their world, like it was a living, breathing entity.”

Cassie respected and admired her colleagues, especially Dom, and naturally, her brothers, but talking shop day-in and day-out drove her nuts.

On a roll, she continued, “They treat women as if we’re helpless and incompetent, even when they’re off duty and we’re on a date. In their world, the only things a woman is good for are the three Ms: making dinner, making love, and then making themselves scarce.”

“That’s some sweeping generalization,” Rose said.

“What I mean is, maybe cops are great if you need to bust down a door or something, but as boyfriends, let alone husbands…” Again she rolled her eyes. “…they’re bad news.”
Never, ever, again.

“Maybe they’re not all like that,” Rose countered.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Besides, I’m pretty sure I pissed off the chief of police to the point where he hates me on sight.” Needing to change the subject, Cassie asked, “What were you and Mike chatting about before I walked up?”

Rose gave her a sheepish look. “You might as well hear this bit of gossip directly from me, that way it’s not gossip. Jimmy Cannelone, Mike’s deputy chief, wants to go out with me.”

“Ah.” Cassie pointed her finger at Rose. “So you don’t want to date a cop, either. Hypocrite.”

“It’s not that at all.”

“Then what don’t you like about him?” She darted her eyes to watch Mike pull away from the curb and drive off.

When she directed her attention back to Rose, the woman’s expression was one of exasperation. “Do you think you could take your eyes off Mike long enough to focus on me for a minute?”

“Of course. I’m sorry, boss.” Their sharp-witted conversations had become a favorite pastime for Cassie.

“Good. Now, as I was saying… I do like him.” Rose frowned. “But he’s too young for me.”

“How old is he?”

“Thirty-seven.”

“And how old are you? You can’t be more than forty-three.”

“Hey!” Rose punched Cassie’s arm. “I’m forty-two, so give me a break.”

“My point exactly.” Cassie held out her hands. “You don’t look it, and five years isn’t such a big age difference. He’s good-looking, too.” And he was. About six feet tall, brown curly hair, chocolate brown eyes. Hopewell Springs certainly didn’t lack hotties.

Rose let out a sigh and got a dreamy look on her face. “Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah, and he definitely likes you.” Jimmy had been to the Nest every morning for coffee over the last week while Mike had been away. Come to think of it, he had kind of been hanging on Rose’s every word. She should have picked up on that, what with her being a detective and all.

“Plus,” Cassie went on, “he’s fun and easygoing, very un-coplike. Mike, on the other hand, might as well have a sign strapped to his chest declaring ‘I’m a hard-ass cop’ in bold letters and in fine print below it, ‘Don’t fuck with me.’ Those guys are as different as goat cheese and brie.” She rested her hand on Rose’s shoulder. “I think you should go for it. Life’s too short to have regrets. You should at least consider it.”

“Fine,” Rose said, reluctantly smiling. “I’ll think about it.”

One of Rose’s old-time customers handed her his tab, along with a ten-dollar bill. “Great pasta, Cassie.” The customer winked at her. “What kind of cheese did you use?”

“Fontina and aged white cheddar.” Cassie beamed the man a hundred-watt smile. She’d received numerous compliments over the last week and each one filled her with an overwhelming sense of gratification. “Glad you liked it.”

Rose rang in the tab, but the cash drawer didn’t budge. She whacked the side of the register with her hand several times before the drawer shot open. “Thanks, Earl,” she said, handing over the change. “See you next time.”

“Count on it.” The man patted his overly large belly and went out the door.

“Does the drawer always stick like that?” Cassie asked as she watched Rose massage the meaty part of her palm.

“Once in a while. I should buy a new register, but this old one is such a part of the Nest’s historical ambience.” Rose ran her hand lovingly along the intricate brass engravings. “It was here when I bought the place, and I’d hate to get rid of it.”

“It’s your hand.” Cassie shook her head. “When you have a minute, I need to go over the menu with you.” She headed to the back of the kitchen where she’d already begun a list of ingredients they would need for the week.

Rose piped in from behind her, “Everything you’ve made, especially the chili, is a big hit and business has picked up already. And speaking of chili, Mike loved yours. The man is a chili aficionado and eats it every day for lunch.”

She leveled her gaze at Rose. “Don’t start with me about him again.”

“Okay, okay.” Rose threw up her hands. “I’m only saying there’s a chemistry there you can’t deny. Anyone can see it. Even Danny, right kid?”