Project Produce(35)

On drugs, my small-town derriere.

After a few minutes, he stuck his head out the door. “He’s gone, Mac. We can go now.”

“Not before I see what this pervert has been up to.” I barged my way past him into the apartment.

“Wait.” Dylan tried to grab my arm, but I sidestepped. “Dammit, Callie, this isn’t your place. You can’t just trespass. I shouldn’t have even gone in.”

“He committed a crime, and you’re a cop,” I pointed out. “Can’t you do anything if you have cause?” I eyed the room, willing to say just about anything to peek inside.

“I really don’t have probable cause, and you’re not a cop. Besides, he could say you were peeping right back. Now, let’s get you out of here before he comes home and you’re the one in trouble.” He reached for me again.

“In a minute.” Backing away, I put the table between us. “Would you look at this place? The slime bucket’s a total slob.” I peered into an empty Chinese food container on a card table in the living room and then glanced at several other containers scattered about the carpet. “Gross. He spilled food all over the floor, and the place smells.”

“Maybe he was in a hurry to get out of here when you spotted him. Let’s go, Mac. I’m serious. I could arrest you for this, now that I have probable cause for you since I saw you break in.”

He wouldn’t arrest me. “Yeah, right. Break out the handcuffs, Dukeypoo.” I stared down at a nearly empty jumbo coffee in a Styrofoam cup, and my niggling suspicion grew. “Huh. Must be he likes his coffee black as sin, same as you.”

“Just like a million other people in this city.” Dylan dragged me away from the table. “Don’t touch anything. If he calls because he thinks someone broke in, they might I.D. your fingerprints.”

But he wouldn’t be calling, would he, Detective? “Sorry. Can’t help being curious about someone who was spying on me. I mean, it doesn’t even look like the creep lives here. There are no pictures on the wall, no decorations, no furniture.”

“Look. I called it in. Backup will be here, and they’ll handle it. In the meantime, we need to get out of here. This isn’t following protocol. I could get suspended.” He snagged my hand and pulled me toward the door. “Don’t worry about this guy, okay. He’s a slob who happened to be looking out his window with binoculars. People check on their cars all the time.”

“His car isn’t parked in my living room. He was looking in my window.” I stared daggers at Dylan’s back as he dragged me out to the front of the building. “Who knows what he saw me doing?” I yanked my hand free.

Dylan turned around.

My fingers flew to my chest, and I felt my eyes widen. “Why,” I glanced down at my shirt, “I don’t even have a bra on.”

“No kidding.” His gaze dropped lower to stare at the twin peaks pushing out the front of my shirt.

“Excuse me?” I covered my bumps. My suspicion regarding his involvement blossomed fully.

He groaned and looked at my face, and I felt my cheeks burn. “I doubt he stood in his window and watched just you all evening. No one saw you get undressed.” Dylan stared into my eyes, never once dropping his gaze below my collarbones.

“How’d you know I changed?”

He checked me out yet once again. “That’s not the outfit you had on earlier.” He flashed me a ridiculous grin. “It’s my job to notice these things, but I would hope you got dressed in the bathroom. Your blinds are wide open.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re pretty good, Detective.”

“I’d better be, or I won’t have a job for long.”

Hmmm. Pretty much what Gadget had said.

“Let’s get you home. You look cold,” Dylan added. His gaze dropped to my braless, puckered nipples, blatantly visible through my form-fitting T-shirt. Guess the Angels were right. Guys did like tight T-shirts, even if there wasn’t much beneath. He stared at me and smoldered.

I drew his coat together in front of me. “Home sounds like a good idea.”

“Right.” He moved my hands out of the way and zipped the coat clear up to the collar. Then he grabbed my hand and stepped into the street, his boot sinking deep into frigid slush. He glanced at my wet socks, then up to my red fingers, and finally to my questioning eyes.

“You can’t walk in this slop. You’ll be lucky if you don’t end up with frostbite after all this.” He turned his back to me. “Here, hop on.”

“Okay.” Leaping off the curb, I landed on his back and sent him stumbling forward, his hands grabbing my thighs as he struggled to keep his balance. “Whoa, Nellie.” I fisted my hands in his shirt, pulled back, and then wrapped my arms and legs around him and held on tight.