Cavanaugh’s Woman (5 page)

Yes, here she was, he thought darkly. A five-foot-four-and-a-half blond thorn in his side. He supposed the best way to get her to stop was to play her. “Okay, you’re on.”

He led the way to the door. “Want to make a little wager on the side to make it interesting?” she asked as they walked out of the apartment.

About to shut the door behind them, Shaw stopped dead and looked at her. “Is that how you did it?”

He’d lost her. “Did what?”

“Rope people in for one of your father’s con games?”

Though she was protective of her father, she took no offense. “My father never hustled basketball,” she informed him. Then she added, “Times were tough. He hustled pool, but never basketball.”

As if that made everything all right. Shaw shook his head. “I’ll consider myself forewarned.”

She was as good as her word.

Bringing her to a local park, Shaw lost no time in getting started. He figured that at least he’d get a workout and burn a few calories. He didn’t expect her to play well enough to give him a run for his money.

She didn’t play basketball. She owned the game. For a small woman, he quickly discovered, Moira McCormick had more moves than a team of semi-pros. She stunned him by being all over the court and making him work for every point he scored.

He’d begun by trying to take it easy on her. After all, that was what males did with females, he reasoned. They went easy on them. He’d learned a long time ago that the average woman was nothing like one of his sisters. The average woman wasn’t competitive and she wasn’t incredibly athletic.

But, he quickly learned, Moira McCormick was not the average woman. Certainly not the average movie star.

She was good.

She was better than good.

She took his breath away—and the ball—whenever possible. Which was often.

Time melted away as they played. All he could focus on was the game.

And the woman.

“Had enough?” she asked, panting as she made another basket.

The sound of her breathing heavily was getting to him. And it had nothing to do with his spirit of competition. It was evoking a completely different scenario in his head. One he was trying desperately not to acknowledge.

Besides, it was getting late. If he was going to get to the precinct on time, he had to stop now and start getting ready.

Still, he didn’t want to call it off. Not when he was losing. Shaw looked at her grudgingly. “Game’s not over.”

With a quick nod of her head, Moira assumed a ready stance, her legs spread apart, her body poised. “Fine with me.”

Desire, strong, red-blooded and able, roared through his veins with a speed that astounded him. He needed another shower, a colder one this time. Not that he really thought it would help. This was going to take a little mind over matter.

Maybe more than a little mind over matter, he silently amended.

He looked at his watch again. He
really
had to get going. “Rest of the game has to be postponed,” he informed her. “I’m due at work.”

“
We’re
due at work,” Moira corrected. She blew out a breath, then drew another one in.

He found himself watching, fascinated, as her lungs expanded. The glimmer of a grin on her lips told him that he’d been caught at it.

“Good game,” she commented. They started walking back to his apartment.

It was one of his better ones, but it still hadn’t been good enough. “I was a little off.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He looked at her sharply. She laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t kid around much, do you?”

He didn’t like the way she seemed to think she could read his mind. “With my friends.”

He lengthened his stride. She followed suit, stretching to keep up. “How long does it take to get into this exclusive club?”

He spared her one glance that was meant to cut her off at the knees. Whatever game she was playing, he wanted no part of.

“Why would you want to be my friend?”

“Why not?” she countered, refusing to be intimidated. Better men than he had tried their hand at that and she had never flinched. Part of the education she’d sustained at her father’s knee. “I’ve always found it’s nicer to have friends than to go it alone in life.”

“So you can fleece them?”

She stopped walking. He found himself turning around even as he told himself to keep going. “Don’t make me regret being honest with you, Shaw. I don’t like having regrets.”

“Welcome to the club,” he muttered. Then he added, “Sorry, that was uncalled for.” He normally didn’t take cheap shots like that. What was getting into him?

They’d reached his complex. He looked around, but didn’t see anything that might have passed for the kind of car he figured a celebrity of her status would drive. “Where’s your car?”

“At the hotel where I’m staying. I had a driver drop me off. I figured you’d do the honors.”

“Would have been nice to have been asked.”

If she’d asked ahead of time, she knew what the answer would have been. And it would have interfered with her goal to grow on him. So, instead, she got into his face now and batted her eyelashes at him in silent-screen-star fashion. “Would you?”

“A little late for that, isn’t it?”

“Better late than never.”

“C’mon,” he growled, waving her toward his car.

Moira didn’t wait for a second invitation. She prided herself on being able to read people, and Detective Cavanaugh of the vice squad had all the signs of a man who, given half a chance, could take off without her.

She wasn’t about to give him that chance.

Chapter Five

T
he silence in the car was far from comfortable. Waiting for Shaw to say the first word was tantamount to waiting for snow to make an appearance in the desert. It just wasn’t going to happen.

She wondered what it would take for him to feel more relaxed around her. Having basketball in common certainly hadn’t done it for him.

Studying his rigid profile for a moment, Moira played another card. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Shaw spared her a quick glance as he drove through the intersection. “I’m a little young for Alzheimer’s,” he retorted sarcastically, then stated the obvious. “You’re the woman from the movies, the one who got lucky on the basketball court.”

She laughed and it bothered him that the sound got under his skin, irritating him because it seemed so inviting.

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” she told him glibly. “Skill, however, did. But I’m not talking about any of that. Think back.”

Shaw frowned. He had never liked games. “How far back?”

“Tenth grade. Half of tenth grade, actually.” She could see that he wasn’t buying into this. “Mrs. Alma Brickman’s Speech class.”

His eyes narrowed. How the hell did she know his teacher’s name? This wasn’t some lucky guess on her part. You didn’t pluck a name like Alma Brickman out of the air. As far as he knew, that kind of information wasn’t readily available.

“What do you know about Mrs. Brickman?”

She closed her eyes for a second, summoning the woman’s image. It helped to be gifted with total recall. Her father certainly had gloried in her gift. “Short, gray hair, kindly voice.” Moira opened her eyes again to see how he was taking this in. “She had us act out scenes from plays. Shakespeare, mostly. I noticed by the videos on your shelf, she got you at least partially hooked.”

The light turned red. He stepped on the brake and turned to stare at her. She’d described his speech teacher to a T. As far as he knew, there was only one way she could have known.

“You were in my class?”

Moira nodded, satisfied that she had managed to shake him up a little. “All of five months.”

At this point, most of high school was a haze. He tried to summon her face out of the crowd and failed. It had to be a put-on. But if it was, how had she known about his teacher?

“I don’t remember you.”

Small wonder there. She’d been a late bloomer. His girlfriend, however, hadn’t been. “That’s because at the time you were going with Monica Zale.” Her mouth curved. “A cheerleader who always brought along her own set of pom-poms.”

Monica Zale. The name took him back. He hadn’t thought of Monica in years. The perky brunette had been the best-endowed girl in the tenth grade. Or any other grade for that matter. They’d gone together for a year and a half until he realized that looks were definitely not enough. He needed someone with a brain to talk to. That someone hadn’t turned out to be Monica.

The light turned green. And then he remembered. “I thought you said you were homeschooled.”

“For the most part,” she allowed. “I begged my father to let me enroll in a regular school.” When he’d finally agreed, she’d thought the wandering was behind them. “I thought that maybe he was finally going to settle down.” And for a time, he had. Until the lure of another con got the better of him. “But things got a little warm and we had to pick up stakes and go.” There’d been arguments then. Real arguments. They weren’t little kids anymore, she and her sister, willingly being led from place to place as if it was all a big adventure. She shook her head, remembering. “Carrie was really teed-off at him.”

He turned off the main thoroughfare. “Carrie?”

“My sister.” She stopped, trying to remember. “Did I not mention her?”

He shrugged carelessly. “Maybe you did and I wasn’t listening.” But he knew she hadn’t. Even against his will, he took in all information that came his way and processed it. And Moira had sent a lot of information his way. “Anyone else in your family?”

“No, just the three of us. My sister, Carrie, is a year younger than me.” Although at times, it felt as if she were a whole generation older. Carrie had been like their father, accustomed to getting her own way, never really growing up to take on the responsibilities of an adult. More than once, Moira had felt as if she were mother to both of them. “She took off for parts unknown about a year before Dad and I came to a parting of the ways.” A fond, sad smile played along her lips. “Carrie was always the stubborn one.”

Shaw thought of Rayne, of the grief she’d given their father before finally settling down. The comment came out before he could think to stop it. “Got one of those myself.”

He was sharing. She wondered if he realized that. “I’d like to meet her sometime.”

Shaw nodded, but made no commitment. Besides, they were here, at the precinct. And his day, he thought with a heavy, inward sigh, was just beginning.

As he pulled into the parking lot, he thought he saw his partner. At first, he thought something was up, but then he realized the man was just being impatient.

Reese leaned against the hood of his car, his head moving slowly from side to side like some kind of searchlight. The moment his head turned in their direction and he saw them, Reese came to attention. He immediately made his way over to them.

Shaw barely got a chance to pull into his parking space before Reese was opening up Moira’s door. His attention was completely focused on the celebrity.

“Here’s your fan club,” Shaw muttered.

“I think he’s sweet,” she told him, flashing her brilliant smile at Reese.

Shaw pulled up the hand brake. “That’s Reese,” he growled. “Sweet.”

“Hi.” Extending his hand, Reese helped her out of the passenger side. As far as Shaw was concerned, his partner was smiling at her like a lovesick puppy. “I was afraid that yesterday was just a wistful dream.”

Shaw closed his own door. “No such luck,” he muttered.

Reese continued holding her hand, obviously mesmerized by her appearance even though she’d tried to play down her looks. “Are you ready to get started, Ms. McCormick? Or would you like to go inside to freshen up first?”

“It’s Moira,” she corrected.

“Moira.” Reese sighed the name.

Shaw clutched his stomach like a man trying not to throw up. “Too bad we’ve only got shower stalls available or you could draw her a bath, too.”

Reese frowned at his partner. Belatedly, he released Moira’s hand, then fell into step beside her as the three of them headed for the front steps of the building. “Don’t pay any attention to him, he’s a barbarian.”

In a way, the description fit, she thought. Shaw Cavanaugh did have a little of the barbarian in him. And it was damn sexy at that. “I know all about Shaw Cavanaugh.”

“Oh?” Surprised, Reese looked from Moira to Shaw. “Did I miss something?”

Moira gave Shaw first chance to say something. When he didn’t, she was more than happy to fill the other detective in. “I went to school here for five months. Shaw was in my class.”

Reese looked accusingly at Shaw. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Shaw yanked the door open. He didn’t bother looking at Reese. “I didn’t know.”

Thunderstruck, Reese could only stare at Moira. “How could you not know?”

Shaw walked into the building ahead of the other two. This had the makings of a very long day. “Can we just get started?” he growled.

Reese inclined his head conspiratorially toward Moira. “My partner’s kind of grumpy until he has his morning coffee.”

“He’s had his morning coffee,” Moira told him. Her remark was met with more surprise. She held up two fingers. “Two cups.”

Again, Reese’s brown eyes slid from the back of Shaw’s head to Moira’s face. “And you’d know this how?”

“She made it,” Shaw tossed over his shoulder as he headed for the stairwell and the second-floor squad room where he clocked in every morning.

This was almost too much to digest. “You made his coffee?” Reese’s voice was filled with wonder and a touch of envy. “Why?”

She hurried up the metal stairs behind Shaw. “I wanted some, too.”

Reese reached the landing with her. “Can we start at the beginning here?”

As Shaw held open the door, she walked out onto the second floor and to what appeared to be an audience that had been milling around for a while now, waiting for her to make an appearance. Her eyes swept over the crowd and she smiled at every last one of them.

“We’ve got all day,” she told Reese cheerfully.

Shaw’s look only grew darker.

The morning had been filled with details and phone calls he wouldn’t allow her to overhear. She’d spent it talking to some of the other detectives and waiting for some sign that Shaw and Reese were about to spring into action.

When they started to walk out, she hurried to catch up. Reese looked happy about it. Shaw did not.

They were on their way to check out a tip. Despite what his uncle had said, despite the agreement the city and Moira’s studio had reached, Shaw was against her tagging along. As far as he was concerned, having Moira there put all of their lives in danger. Especially hers.

He gave her as few details as he could get away with. They were going to check out a pornography store downtown. Someone had tipped them off that there was a distant connection between the owner and the prostitution ring they were trying to bring down.

When he pulled up to the curb, he grabbed Moira’s wrist as she started to unbuckle her seat belt. She raised her eyes to his face questioningly. “I want you to stay in the car.”

She felt a flash of temper, but banked it down. “But how am I going to see you in action if I have to stay in the car?”

He got out, slamming the door. The look he gave her pinned her to her seat. “Use your imagination.”

Moira frowned. “I could have stayed in the hotel and done that.”

“Now there’s an idea.”

Moira turned her eyes toward her only ally. Reese was quick to pick up the banner. “She’s got a point, Shaw. Why don’t you let her come along?”

This was nonnegotiable. “She’s a civilian and she could get hurt. She stays where she is.”

Fun was fun, but this was getting in the way of her research. “But—”

He decided to try to appeal to her common sense, even though he wasn’t sure if she had any. “Look, we’re entering a sleazy place that deals exclusively in explicit porno.” He didn’t add that there was a suspicion of child pornography being produced out of there, as well. He wasn’t trying to make her ill, just make her stay put. “Men go into places like that, not women. Having you with us’ll blow our cover.”

Moira looked undaunted. “I could play the part of a wanna-be porn star.”

The woman had an answer for everything. He lost his temper. Shaw leaned into the car. When he spoke, he enunciated every word. “Let’s get something clear. There are no
‘parts’
here. These are not TV actors we’re dealing with. They don’t retreat into their trailers when someone yells ‘Cut.’ These are vicious, nasty men who sell underage girls into virtual slavery. Now this is as close as you’re getting to the operation.” He slapped the side of the car. “Do I make myself clear?”

There was no arguing with him. “Perfectly.”

“Good.” Shaw straightened up. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

He looked at his partner. Reese had changed inside the precinct, donning worn jeans and a pullover shirt that had seen too many spin cycles in the washing machine. The object was to blend in, not stand out.

Shaw felt behind him, assuring himself that his weapon was still tucked into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. The one he used for backup was securely strapped to his calf.

Completely ignoring Moira, he nodded at Reese. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Frustrated, Moira remained in the car.

She watched Shaw and Reese as they disappeared behind the black door of a small, narrow store whose display windows had been painted black. If what was going on inside was what Shaw claimed, black was an appropriate color for it, she thought.

They were gone a while.

The minutes dragged one another by in slow motion, making her edgy. The interior of the car began to get warmer despite the windows that were cracked open on either side. She stood it for as long as she could. Finally, feeling as if she were in a rotisserie, Moira slid into the driver’s seat and looked around for a way to open the windows all the way down.

But Shaw had taken the keys with him and she needed the keys to operate the power windows.

“Terrific,” she muttered. “He did this on purpose so that I’d call this off. Guess what, Shaw. I’m a lot tougher than you think.” She blew out a breath, watching the front of the porno store. “Also a lot hotter.”

Moira gave it a few more minutes, growing warmer, antsier by the moment. But there was no sign of either Reese or Shaw. No movement whatsoever in the general area.

The interior of the car grew hotter.

She debated getting out of the vehicle, but she knew that wouldn’t sit well with Shaw. Besides, she thought, looking around at the tired buildings, the dirty streets, this wasn’t exactly an upscale neighborhood. She might be stubborn, but she wasn’t an idiot.

Moira chewed on her lower lip, thinking. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead. There was only one thing left to do.

She was going to have to hot-wire the car in order to get the windows down.

Leaning over, she got busy beneath the dashboard. It had been a while since she’d done anything like this, but it was like riding a bicycle. After a few seconds of fumbling, it came back to her.

Several short tries later, she had the engine purring like a kitten.

Smiling, feeling triumphant, Moira straightened up. She spread her fingers out over the buttons on the driver’s armrest and pushed all the four that were clustered together. All four windows began to dip down in unison.

It was then she saw the door to the porno shop open. Less than a half beat later, a man came flying out. He was running as if he had the demons from hell on his tail. She figured two police detectives were close enough, given his probable line of work.