Deserve (8 page)

“Ugh…I can’t believe
Tormentstein
is going to give us another test next week,” Todd
Jorgsen
complains, groaning dramatically as we walk out of our Clinical Medicine
lecture.

I nudge him with my elbow. “Come on, Todd.
Morgenstein’s
not so bad. He’s only making sure we absorb
the material.”

He makes a face of disgust and I laugh. Todd is one of the
most beautiful men in our school, inheriting a blend of features from his
Nigerian mother and Swedish father. The contrast of his icy blue eyes against
his caramel-colored skin is mesmerizing and many a girl has lamented that he
plays for the other team. Of course there are a few men who cheered, until they
realized he was in a committed relationship with a civil rights attorney.

“Maggie Jackson, you are the cutest nerd in the world,”
Hannah says with a low chuckle as she comes up to my side. “You’re like that
girl in the Harry Potter movies who loves to study and take tests.”

I shrug, unoffended by the comment.
There are worse things than being compared to Emma Watson. “I do like school.
And both of you can stop pretending you don’t because you wouldn’t be here if
you didn’t graduate at the top of your class.”

School started three weeks ago and I love everything about
it. The students are amazing and I already have a circle of friends. The
professors are brilliant and their passion for teaching comes through clearly.
I’ve never been happier about my decision to attend school in New York.

And a certain
detective being in the same city has nothing to do with it!

“I got here on my looks,” Todd says, tossing his head back
and striking a pose.

Hannah and I both laugh and say at the same time, “We
believe it!” One thing I love about Todd is his willingness to poke fun at the ridiculous
way people
react
to his beauty.

“
Aww
…that’s sweet of you.” Todd
pretends to be blushingly flattered.

“Hey, a little bird told me it’s someone’s birthday,” Hannah
announces to Todd, jerking her head toward me.

“Girl! Why didn’t you say so?” Todd exclaims. “We need to go
out and celebrate!”

Hannah claps her hands like a sugar-high toddler. “Yes!
We’ll do dinner and then go to that hot new club in Greenwich afterwards.”

“No, you guys don’t have to do that!” I protest, feeling a
glow of pleasure at their thoughtfulness. I’ve been getting birthday wishes
from my old friends all day and
Cael
sent me a
present a few days ago, but I was starting to feel sorry for myself because I
was going to spend the evening by my lonesome. And I haven’t heard from the
person I most wanted to remember my birthday.

Todd slings his arm around my shoulders. “You’re not going
to spend your birthday poring over our biology tome. It’s time to get your
party on, Hot Tamales.”

I roll my eyes at his nickname for me in honor of the bright
red candy. It’s as unoriginal as all the other ones I’ve heard, but I’ve long
given up on trying to stop people from making up names for me. They can’t seem
to help themselves when it comes to redheads. And Todd prides himself on coming
up with nicknames for everyone in his life.

“
Ohh
! I’m so excited! I’m going to
see if Cory and Cal can join us.” Hannah whips out her phone and starts to type
furiously.

“I’m going to invite Antonio.” He glances at me inquiringly.
“Is that okay?”

“Absolutely! I love hanging out with you guys.” It’s
Hannah’s new guy, Calvin, who makes me uncomfortable. Every time he looks at
me, I feel like I need to take a shower with lots and lots of soap. Since he’s
done nothing overtly sleazy, I can’t say anything to Hannah, but I try to avoid
being alone with him.

After we make plans to meet at a little bistro near the
club, Todd waves goodbye, heading back to the ultra-chic apartment he shares
with his boyfriend on the Upper West Side. Hannah and I start to walk back to
our dorm.

“Let’s go this way.” She veers down a small street that
leads to the back of our building. Hannah and I discovered this shortcut our
first week of school. Most of the female students don’t like using this route
since there’s not a lot of foot traffic, but it saves a few precious minutes
when we’re trying to get to class on time.

“Good idea. Josh is probably waiting for you at the front
entrance again.” I shiver, thinking of those unblinking eyes.

Hannah scowls. “Ugh. It’s a good thing he hasn’t tried to
touch me or I’d kick his
nutsac
so hard, it’ll end up
in his throat.”

“You’ve got to feel sorry for the guy. He has no friends.”

“For good reason! Every time he stares at me, I get goose
bumps…and not the good kind either. Cal’s ready to beat the shit out of him.”

At the mention of her boyfriend, I try to feel her out. “How
are you and Cal doing?” Her huge smile says it all and I stifle a sigh.

“Fantastic! And hot!” She gives a little shimmy of her
shoulders. “He’s so edgy and…I don’t know…dark. I’ve always been into the bad
boys and he’s definitely got that undercurrent of danger going for him.”

I mentally shake my head at her taste in men and give up my attempt
to sow seeds of doubt. Any criticism of him will likely taint our new
friendship. “I’m glad for you.”

When we walk into the building, Ed, my resident assistant
who is manning the front desk, calls out, “Hold up, Maggie. There’s a package
for you.”

“I’ll see you upstairs,” I say to Hannah, trying to recall
if I ordered anything online.

“Okay.”

I walk up to the desk and Ed places a huge bouquet of yellow
gerbera daisies on the counter. Ed points to it and says, “Those are yours.”

Heart beating rapidly, I cradle the bunch of flowers and
pluck out the card.

Happy
Birthday,
Freckles. Sean.

Hugging the flowers to my chest, I grin widely.
He didn’t forget!

I should never have doubted him. Every year, around my
birthday, I get a card and something whimsical from him. This is the first time
I’ve gotten flowers. How did he know these were my favorite?

Does this mean he feels
something more than platonic friendship for me?

Even as I caution myself, I can’t suppress the little spurt
of hope in my heart. In the last few weeks, we have spent a lot of time
together, sharing meals and exploring the city on the weekends.

There’s something different about how we relate to each
other. Yes, there’s friendship, but there’s something…more. I have caught him
looking at me in a way that makes my heart beat faster, but it’s always
fleeting, gone before I can analyze it. My head insists it’s all in my
imagination, but my heart remains stubbornly optimistic.

“Oh, and this is yours too.” Ed pushes a packet toward me. It
is wrapped in plain brown paper and there’s a card taped to the front.

“Thanks!” I wedge the surprisingly heavy box under my arm
and head to my room.

I can’t find anything to hold the flowers and run to the
kitchen. On one of the shelves, I find a chipped ceramic pitcher. Filling it
with water, I bring it back to my room and put the bouquet in it. The happy
daisies immediately brighten up my room and I take a few moments to admire
them.

My other present is calling to me though. I want to rip into
the package like a kid on Christmas morning, but I restrain myself and
carefully detach the card.

I hope you like this.
Sean.

Smiling like a loon, I clutch the package and do a little
wiggling dance. Even without seeing it, I already know I will love it. I ignore
the inner voice warning me to not get carried away by my emotions. Finally the
anticipation is too much for me and I tear into the brown paper. When I see the
scrawled message on the boxed set, I jump up and down and squeal with delight.

“Girl, why do you look like a Chihuahua on a caffeine drip?”
Hannah is standing in my doorway, laughing at my antics.

I hold out my present. “It’s an autographed collection of
James
Montanari’s
complete works.”

“Who’s James
Montanari
?”

“He’s a best-selling author. He writes about these vigilante
cops who go after serial killers.”

Hannah shudders. “Ugh…no thanks. Give me a nice romance any day.”

Her lack of enthusiasm doesn’t dampen my spirits one whit.
Setting my books down gently on my bed, I text Sean.

Thanks for the books
and flowers. I love them.

Hannah walks over to my desk. “Oh, those flowers are
beautiful.” She bends down to smell them and then slants me a look. “Who’s the
guy?”

Fighting not to blush, I say nonchalantly, “Sean sent them
for my birthday.”

“Ooh…the hot cop slash billionaire.” She grins teasingly.

Just then my phone buzzes. My heart flutters like crazy when
I see the text from Sean.

You’re welcome. Are
you free for dinner?

I glance up at Hannah and she grins knowingly. “Let me
guess. He wants to take you out for dinner. We’ll do a rain check.”

I lose my battle with my blush. “Thanks, Hannah.”

She sobers and touches my hand. “Just be careful, okay?” she
says gently.

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.

Hesitating for a second, she says, “Your Sean seems to get
around.” She takes out her phone, taps in something, and shows me the screen.
“This was some gala for the NYPD a couple of nights ago.”

On the site of a well-known tabloid, there’s an image of
Sean, looking gorgeous in a tux, with his arm around the waist of a tall, cool
blonde. She’s dressed in a yellow designer gown with a sweeping train. They
look like Ken and Barbie dolls come to life, smiling brilliantly for the
cameras. The caption reads: “Billionaire playboy Sean Rowan seen escorting
socialite Alicia Samuelson. Could this be the union of old New York dynasties?”

They look perfect together—beautiful, fashionable, and
rich. The way the blonde is leaning into Sean clearly indicates an intimate
relationship.

Staring at the photo, a lump forms in my throat.

What did you think,
Maggie? That he was going to ask you to go as his date? If you wore a gown like
that, you’d trip over the yards of fabric and do a face-plant, embarrassing him
in front of the press.

Hannah hugs me to her side and says with forced cheer, “Hey,
I didn’t mean to be a downer on your birthday. It probably doesn’t mean
anything. With the super-rich, most of their public appearances are all for
show. I’m addicted to the gossip rags, but even I know I can’t believe half of
what they print.”

I smile weakly. “It’s fine, Hannah. Sean’s just a friend,” I
say, not sure if I’m trying to convince her or me. From the pitying look on her
face and the tightness in my chest, I know I’ve failed on both fronts. I set my
jaw and do the smart thing. If Sean had truly wanted to have dinner with me, he
wouldn’t have asked last minute. “Let’s get ready to go to dinner. I’m not
ditching my friends.”

“Are you sure? I didn’t mean—”

“No! I want to hang out with you guys.”

Her smile is instant. “Great! I’d better go change.”

After she leaves, I glance at Sean’s invitation and tap out
a quick reply.

Sorry, I already made
plans.

Too
bad.
Are you free tomorrow
night?

There’s no reason to let our friendship suffer because I
can’t control my own feelings, but I need some time away from him.

School’s ramping up.
Maybe when things slow down?

Okay. Can you still
make the Senator’s party?

I take a deep breath. Two weeks should give me plenty of
time to get my head screwed on correctly.

Yes. See you then.

With an eye on the clock, I review the coroner’s report and
compare it to witnesses’ accounts. TV shows always glamorize detective work,
but most of the job is writing or reading reports, which can be mind-numbing,
but when I find the details which lead to the truth, it’s all worth it.
Spotting a couple of discrepancies with one witness account of the Rodriquez
case, I put the papers aside to follow up next week.

Checking the time again, I can’t contain my smile of
anticipation. I don’t remember the last time I looked forward to one of my
father’s parties, but tonight is different. Tonight, Maggie will be with me.

It’s not a date,
Rowan.

It’s far too easy for me to brush that voice of reason
aside.

It’s amazing how fucking addicted I’ve become to her. The
Maggie I’ve gotten to know recently still resembles the same teenager I met
years ago, but now there’s something…more. The woman she has become is utterly
fascinating to me and I have an uneasy feeling I don’t ever want to stop
unpeeling her many layers.

I tell myself I’m watching out for her like
Cael
requested, but I know I’m full of shit. I can’t get
enough of her. She hasn’t been available to hang out the last couple of weeks and
I’m impatient for her schedule to free up again.

Being with her makes me feel like life is full of
possibilities again. Even the most mundane outings turn into something fun and
new with Maggie. I even let her drag me to the most cringe-worthy tourist traps
and there are some embarrassing photos on my phone to testify to my madness.

Then why do you keep
looking at the goofy pictures, you douche?

“Okay, tell me what the hell’s going on with you.”

I look up to see my partner, Marc Rossini, staring at me.
He’s a dark-haired, dark-skinned man with cragged features, displaying scars
from his misspent youth in one of the toughest neighborhoods in the Bronx. He
parks his ass on the edge of my desk, as if he’s prepared to wait me out. I
save my reports, shut down my computer and swivel my chair to face him. “What
are you talking about?”

He snorts and points at my black screen. “We’ve been
partners for two years. I can count on my hand the number of times you’ve left
on time. In the last month, you’ve bolted out of here at five on the dot at
least twice a week. Something’s up.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t try to pull the innocent act on me, Rowan. You’ve been
wearing that stupid smile for the last couple of months. Something is up with
you.
Qualcosa
bolle
in
pentola
.” His shrewd, brown eyes narrow.

“Fuck off with your stupid Italian sayings. What the fuck
does that even mean?”

Unperturbed by my irritation, he said, “Hey, don’t knock my
Nona’s wisdom! It means something’s up, you asshole.”

“Look, with all due respect to your Nona, nothing’s up.
Since when is working efficiently a crime?” I grab a stack of files and hand it
over to him. “I went through some of the reports and these need follow up.
Here’s your half of the work.”

Not even glancing at the paperwork, he sets it beside him.
“No, seriously, what’s going on?”

Marc is a great partner. We were both promoted out of our
respective precincts at the same time so there was no power struggle in our
work relationship. Best of all, my status as a senator’s son and my wealth
never stopped him from treating me like one of the guys. He’s a damn fine cop.
Thorough and tenacious. I just hate it when he turns that persistence my way.

I throw my hands in the air. “Nothing!”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were in love.”

My face settles in lines of horror and he roars in laughter.

Pointing a finger at my face, he gasps, “And that is why I
know better. It’s not a disease, asshole.”

“Not everyone can be lucky like you,
asshat
.”

Immediately, his face softens at the reference to his pretty
wife, Laurel. It never fails to distract him. But it’s only a temporary
reprieve. Fucking bloodhound.

“Well, it’s got to be a woman.”

“It’s not,” I lie. Recognizing his suspicious gaze, I
quickly tack on a truthful statement to throw him off the scent. “I haven’t
been on a date in months.”

He snaps his fingers. “That’s it. You haven’t been laid in
so long, it’s screwing with your mind!” He leans close and lowers his voice.
“You can’t let that shit build up. It’s unhealthy.”

I roll my eyes and try my diversionary tactic again. “Is
that what you tell Laurel when you’re trying to get laid?”

Whack!
His palm
taps the side of my head. “Shut up about my wife, already!”

“
Ow
!” I rub the spot and grin at
his overreaction. “Does Laurel know you have this violent, abusive side to you?
When she finds out, she’s going to leave you and run away with me.”

I chuckle at the look on his face and block the hand coming
straight at my head. Razzing Marc about his wife is a surefire way to get him
riled up. I can’t help myself because he’s such an easy target.

“Shut the fuck up!” He glowers at me. Swiping the stack of
reports off the table, he stalks to his desk, which is directly across from
mine. Before he sits down, he says, “Listen, we’re going out for drinks next
Wednesday. You should come. Maybe you’ll get some badge bunny to go home with
you and convince you that there’s more to life than work.”

The idea of picking up some random chick at the bar is
beyond unappealing. My balls draw up in disgust and I grimace, thinking about
bumping into the blonde again.

“We’ll see,” I say noncommittally before I grab my jacket
from the back of my chair. “I’ll see you next week.” I can feel his speculative
gaze burning into my back as I leave the floor.

I rush back to my apartment, shower and change into my
formal wear. As the son of a politician, I spend a fair amount of my life in my
tux, attending galas and campaign functions, but I always feel like I’m
slipping into a costume—an actor about to go in front of the cameras.

At least tonight, I
don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not when I’m with Maggie.

Before I leave my apartment, I text her.

Leaving now. Will be
there in fifteen minutes.

Her response is instant.

I’ll meet you in the
lobby.

As I head out the door, I catch my reflection in the hall
mirror and I halt in surprise. Marc is right. I do have a stupid smile on my
face.

If I didn’t know any
better, I’d think you were in love.

I violently shove away the ridiculous notion and turn away from
the mirror. No, I care about Maggie and enjoy spending time with her, but
that’s all there is to it. Without another glance at my reflection, I leave,
slamming the door with unnecessary force behind me.

As I wait for her in the dorm lobby, I watch the twenty-
somethings
wandering around. They seem like an altogether
different species—their eyes shining with dreams and endless
possibilities. I see a young couple holding hands as they pretend to study.
Maybe I’m the alien here.
I don’t
remember ever feeling as young and hopeful as they look.

“Sean!”

Maggie’s voice makes my lips curl up automatically.

I lift my head and my jaw almost hits my chest. I push away
from the wall and take a few steps toward her.

Fuck! She looks like a
scrumptious treat and I want to take a big bite.

Maggie is clad in a traffic-stopping, red halter dress. The
color is just dark enough to not clash with her bright hair. Sparkling clips
hold her curls over her delicate ears. Her small breasts are displayed to
perfection and the silky material clings to her hips and thighs. The dress ends
above her knees, displaying shapely calves and ankles. On her small feet are
gold sandals with insubstantial straps over her toes.

Normally Maggie doesn’t wear makeup, but tonight she has
done something to her eyes to make them look smoky and mysterious. Glossed with
red, her lips look like succulent cherries. I imagine my tongue running along
the seam and letting the sweetness burst on my tongue. Her skin looks smooth
and creamy and infinitely
lickable
.

And every male at the
party would want to lick every inch of her.

At the unwelcome thought, my mood plummets south and all I
want to do is to throw a gunnysack over her head.

As she walks toward me, I see male heads twist to look at
her in appreciation and I want to snarl at them. I don’t, but I meet the gazes
of a few overly enthusiastic oglers and they immediately recoil from the
promise of death in my eyes.

Expecting her to throw her arms around me, I’m puzzled and
disappointed when she comes to a stop a foot away from me.

Fuck it.

I enfold her into my arms and my hands encounter smooth,
silky skin. Her small breasts flatten against my chest and I swear I feel her
nipples burning through the material of my tux. As soon as I picture her tits,
my cock throbs impatiently in my pants. I keep reminding myself that this is my
friend’s baby sister, but it doesn’t affect the dumb stick in my pants.

Fuck me.

Before my body can betray me, I grasp her shoulders and push
her gently away. “Hi, Freckles.” The nickname is supposed to come out in a
teasing tone, but it sounds alarmingly like a caress to my ears. I clear my
throat. “Uh…you look very nice.” I wince. I have charmed more women than I care
to think about and the best I can come up with is “you look very nice?”

“Thanks.” Pink spots appear on her cheeks. Her eyes rove
over my face and torso. “So do you,” she says shyly.

“Hi, Maggie.” A male voice comes from behind her.

I react swiftly to the flash of fear on her face. Grabbing
her arms, I shove her behind me and assess the threat.

Male. Six feet. One seventy. Dark brown, almost black, eyes.
Brown hair.
Narrow nose and thin mouth.
Mole on lower left cheek.
Blue jeans and black t-shirt.

I memorize each of his
features,
already cataloging the details that would help a sketch artist draw his
likeness. The blank, fixed look in his eyes sets off my internal alarms.
Adrenaline pumps through my body.

“Who are you?” I ask bluntly, expanding my body in an
intimidating stance.

Maggie tries to come out from behind me, but I push her
back. She pinches my back and I almost ruin my menacing posture with a smile. When
I wear my cop face, most people cower in fear, but not my little sprite.

Not yours,
I
remind myself.

“Sean, stop it!” She peeks from around me and says slowly
and deliberately, “Hi, Josh. I can’t talk right now, okay? I’m going out with
my friend.”

“Okay. Bye, Maggie.” Instead of leaving, Josh continues to
stare at her. Everything about this kid rubs me the wrong way.

She takes my hand and tugs me toward the exit. “Come on,
let’s go.”

I let her lead me away, but I throw a look over my shoulder,
sending Josh a wordless warning to stay away from her. His lack of reaction and
his laser-focused expression make my gut churn with uneasiness.

Once we’re in my car, I ask, “Who is Josh? And why are you
scared of him?”

“I’m not scared of him.” When I shoot her a narrow-eyed
glance, she adds, “He startled me by coming behind me without any warning.”

I study her innocent face. “Maggie, stay away from him.” At
times like these, I want to tell her about all the fucked up people in the
world so that she would stay vigilant, but I also don’t want to terrify her.
Bile rises in my throat as I think about the homicide case Marc and I were just
assigned to. The world is full of sick fucks and it makes me nuts to think
about all the innocent people, like Maggie, who are in danger every time they
leave the house.

“We’re not friends or anything.”

Her response is not reassuring. I have a feeling the other
student doesn’t understand or respect personal boundaries. “Maybe you need to
move to another dorm. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

She gapes at me like I’m crazy, but I trust my instincts.

“It’s okay.” Her hand touches my wrist and I realize I am
white-knuckling the steering wheel. I consciously loosen my grip. “He looks at
everyone like that.”

The leather squeaks as my fingers tighten again. I stare at
her in disbelief, wanting to pull out my hair at her naiveté. “That doesn’t
make it better!”

She huffs and I try to ignore how cute she looks. “Stop
acting like
Cael
. Josh is weird, not dangerous. And
I’m not going to change dorms just because you think he’s strange!”

“He could be dangerous!” I counter.

“He hasn’t done anything wrong, Sean. He’s just socially
awkward.” There’s an underlying plea in her voice.

“There’s something in his eyes I don’t like.”

She has the nerve to roll her eyes at me and I don’t know
whether to laugh or to growl.

“It’s a statistical fact that every class has a misfit.
You’re being paranoid,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. “Just drop
it.”

Her expression remains unchanged when I put on my tough cop
mask and I growl in exasperation and defeat.

“Fine,” I say curtly. “But if that fucker does anything to
bother you, you let me know. Actually, why don’t you tell me his last name and
I’ll run a background check on him when I get back to the office?”

She looks horrified. “You can’t do that! It’s a violation of
an innocent citizen’s civil rights. Not to mention you’re wasting taxpayer
dollars!”

“Like I give a fuck!”

Her mouth drops open and then she laughs. “God! You’re a
nut!”