Madeline snuggled more deeply into the soft, comfortable bed, a slight smile tilting her lips. She was having a wonderful dream, one from which she had no desire to awaken. She was driving Cruz’s car again, doing one hundred miles an hour, and he was pleading with her to slow down. Getting the upper hand over Cruz had been delicious, and reliving it in her sleep was almost as good.
Her bed moved then, and she frowned a little, her eyes fluttering open. There was Cruz, next to her, just as in the dream. Her eyes drifted shut again. After a long moment they snapped open. She stared hard at the man beside her, and then past him. This didn’t look like the inside of his car, this looked like her bedroom. Her eyes opened wider. It was her bedroom!
She sat up straight in bed, pulling the sheet with her protectively. It would only reach halfway up her chest. The rest was snagged beneath his jean-clad hips.
“What are you doing in my bedroom?” she demanded incredulously. She was still reeling from how easily he’d moved from her dream to her side. “How did you get in here? What do you want? Get out!”
His firm mouth curved at the way the words tumbled from her mouth. “You’re grumpy in the morning,” he observed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Not that it will be morning much longer. It’s almost noon. As to how I got in…”
“Ariel,” she finished with him simultaneously. Her hand went to her forehead. Somehow she’d known that allowing her friend to badger her into giving her a spare key would cause only grief. She’d agreed to do so to guard against an emergency. But what was the prospect of an emergency compared to the possibility that Ariel would let a man into Madeline’s apartment? Especially this man!
“Yeah, she heard me knocking and informed me that you always sleep late on Sundays. But she was very accommodating.”
“I’ll bet,” Madeline muttered. She pulled ineffectually at the sheet again. “Would you please get up?”
Cruz rose to his feet and she snatched the sheet to her chin. “Now that I’ve got you moving, keep going until you’re out the door. And don’t come back.”
Now that she mentioned it, the idea of leaving her bedroom did have some merit. At least, if he wasn’t going to be involved in anything more than arguing with her. He’d watched her sleep for only a few moments, but the sight of her all soft and mussed and wearing a pale pink satiny thing was having a predictable effect on him. He knew that if he stayed one more instant his next move would be even more predictable. Right now she resembled the Maddy of his fantasies, and he knew he’d never think of her as Madeline again. Her scanty attire had his temperature rising, and rather than embarrass them both, he shrugged and said, “Okay, I guess you don’t want to hear about my idea.” He turned and walked out of the room.
Idea? She waited until he was out of sight of the bedroom door before bounding out of bed. Why did he always seem to get these leads for them to follow on the weekend? “Make some coffee.” She threw the order after his departing form and shut the door firmly. He wasn’t going anywhere or doing anything involving this investigation without her.
As she hurried through her shower and dressed, she mentally called him every rotten name she’d ever heard, and even strung a few together creatively. Applying her makeup in record time, she debated about what to do with her hair, and then left it down. She’d already spent twenty minutes, and she wasn’t certain how much time he’d allow before he left without her.
She smelled the coffee’s aroma as soon as she opened the door. Cruz was seated at the kitchen counter sipping a cup of the brew. He poured her a cup and pushed it toward her. He watched, amused, as her eyes closed in satisfaction at the first strong drink. His feeling of amusement quickly fled, however, when he noticed what she was wearing. The heat that mushroomed in his gut had nothing to do with the hot coffee. Black denim clung faithfully to her long slender legs, topped by a thigh length lightweight sweater. A pair of short leather black boots added a couple inches to her height. The leggings left little to the imagination about what lay under them. For the second time that morning he wondered just how bright he’d been to come here. His imagination didn’t need any more fodder for the wild fantasies it was capable of spinning about her.
He waited for half a cup to improve her mood before he spoke again. “Only heathens sleep late on Sundays. You should have been at church, repenting for the cruel way you treated me yesterday.”
She finished the rest of her coffee and poured herself some more. He held out his cup and she refilled it for him. It always took at least one shot of caffeine to jolt her awake in the morning. Today that job had been completed by the sight of him on her bed. The coffee calmed her nerves, which his presence had brought instantly, jangling awake. Dreaming about him, then seeing the object of her dream as soon as she had opened her eyes, was enough to send her senses spinning. Especially since she dimly recalled that the most recent dream had not been the only one in which he’d starred last night.
She drank deeply from the second cup and it was another moment before she responded to his remark. “I didn’t have a guilty conscience, so there was no need for me to pray for forgiveness.”
His look was reproachful. “You should have felt very guilty. My blood pressure was at a dangerous level by the time you screeched to a stop out front yesterday.” But it hadn’t been as high as it had risen in the minute he’d spent beside her on the bed. Sixty seconds was such a short time, but it had been long enough for him to imagine stretching out beside her. To think about awakening her in the slowest, sweetest way possible. To pull her beneath him, and… He reined in the erotic thoughts firmly.
“Let’s hear about this fantastic idea of yours. And it had better be good.” They rose to go.
“All my ideas are good,” he answered smugly as he followed her out of the apartment. “And this one is excellent.”
Madeline looked about curiously when they pulled to a stop in front of a small brick home. It was located on a street with others just like it; the houses were rather close together, and some were a little run-down. But the one they approached as they went up the walk appeared well tended. The lawn was neatly mowed and the trim looked freshly painted.
“I’m not going one more step unless you tell me what we’re doing here,” she said, stopping in the middle of the walk. He had steadfastly refused to answer all her questions on the trip over, choosing instead to comment on what he’d thought of her sleeping attire. The banter hadn’t done her temper a bit of good, and even knowing he was getting even with her for the bet she’d won yesterday didn’t improve her mood. “I can’t believe we’re going to find evidence of a gun supplier in this neighborhood.”
“Why not?” he countered. “This place isn’t nearly as nice as where we found Cantoney yesterday.” He managed to guide her up the steps of the porch, and raised a finger to his lips to hush her when her mouth opened again. “Be ready for anything, Madeline, and I do mean anything. I’m going to need you to back me up.” He reached out to pound on the door, shouting, “Police! Open up.”
Her eyes widened. Of all the stupid, dangerous things to do! Wait until they got out of this! How could he let her walk into a situation without briefing her beforehand? The door flew open and Cruz strode through it, Madeline closely following him. Both of them were unarmed. If they got out of this alive, she was really, really going to kill him this time!
“Hey, look! It’s the big, bad police detective,” someone said in the next room.
“Come here, Mr. Detective, and give me a kiss,” a woman’s voice called.
Cruz stopped suddenly in the hallway and Madeline ran into his back. Her confused brain took a few instants to recognize just what kind of situation he had led her into. “Martinez!” she hissed. “This is your parents’ home!”
He slanted a grin at her. “You’re very astute, Madeline. That’s what I admire most about you. That and your legs.” He didn’t allow her to respond before grabbing her hand and pulling her along with him into the kitchen.
She stood awkwardly aside as Cruz was hugged by someone she assumed was his mother. She felt even more ill at ease when the woman released him and drew back to study Madeline.
Cruz bore little physical resemblance to Mrs. Martinez. They both had dark hair, but she was a brunette several shades lighter than he. Visible threads of gray traced through her hair, which she wore in short waves around her face. Her eyes were a shocking shade of blue, and she came up only to her son’s broad shoulders.
“This is Madeline Casey, Mom, the partner I was telling you about.” He lowered his voice to an undertone meant to be overheard. “I had to kidnap her. The only way to get her out of her apartment was to pretend we would be working today. She thinks she’s here to arrest a dangerous criminal.”
His mother tapped him on the chest. “Cruz, you are so bad,” she scolded him. And then she smiled at Madeline, and revealed all the charm that her son must have inherited from her. “Welcome, Madeline. I apologize for my son. You have all my sympathy, having to work with him all day. Me, I can’t stand to have him around for more than an hour or two. Such a tease.”
“Mom,” he complained in an aggrieved tone, reaching past her to snatch a cookie from the counter. “You’ll ruin her image of me. Madeline thinks I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread.”
“You’re a little confused,” Madeline informed him saccharinely. “Although I’d like to see you sliced like bread.”
“It’s my fault,” his mother said apologetically. “He’s been so busy lately, and I told him to bring you by. I thought he had the manners to issue an invitation, but obviously I was wrong. Stay and enjoy yourself anyway,” she urged. “I could easily be persuaded to show you some very embarrassing pictures of him when he was a child.”
“You’ve got a deal.” Madeline smiled, in spite of her desire to do Cruz some serious physical damage.
“Don’t show her the one of me naked on the rug,” Cruz advised his mother as he took Madeline’s arm and guided her into the next room. “I have to work with her. I want her to still respect me, not to be constantly undressing me with her eyes.”
The room they entered next was packed with people, some sitting, others standing, and still others sprawled on the floor. Children were running shrieking through the room and out into the hallway. The television was on, but no one appeared to be watching it. It seemed to Madeline as if twenty different conversations halted when they entered.
The silence seemed to stretch interminably, but probably lasted only a few seconds. Then the voices started again at once.
“Cruz! Glad you made it. There’s something I need to talk to you about…” A young, handsome man in his early twenties stepped forward.
“Unca Cwuz! Unca Cwuz! See what I can do! Watch me, Unca Cwuz!” A chubby toddler with dimples did a lumbersome somersault, landing neatly on Cruz’s toes.
“Big brother! Give me a hug!” This from the young woman Madeline remembered seeing on the street the second day she’d worked with Cruz.
“You owe me ten from that bet last week, buddy. When are you going to learn never to bet against the Phillies?” called one of the men sitting near the TV.
Cruz was engulfed by his relatives, all anxious to greet him. He kissed the women, clapped the men on the shoulders and swung the children in the air. Finally he reached down for the acrobatic toddler still lying across his boots. As he situated the little boy on his hip, the toddler frowned and pointed a chubby finger at Madeline.
“Unca Cwuz, who’s dat?”
It seemed to Madeline as if every eye in the room was trained on her, and she experienced a fierce desire to be somewhere, anywhere else in the world.
“This,” Cruz said, drawing Madeline toward him and then turning her gently toward the group, “is my partner, Madeline Casey.” He proceeded to introduce each of his brothers, sisters, in-laws, nieces and nephews one by one. He said solemnly to the nephew in his arms, “Madeline wanted to learn to be a great detective, so she’s working with me for a while.”
Hoots and catcalls met his pronouncement.
“She could probably learn something from you, all right,” Sean chided with a laugh.
“When I ran into them on the street a couple of weeks ago, it looked as though Madeline was teaching Cruz something!” his sister Maureen told the family.
Madeline froze, waiting for her to reveal how engrossed they’d seemed in each other. But the girl went blithely on, “She got Cruz to eat a hot dog, can you believe it?”
“No way!”
“I wish I could have seen that!”
“Miracle worker,” Cruz’s younger brother Miguel intoned, kneeling before Madeline clownishly. “Please tell his humble family how you managed a feat of such magnificent proportions.”
Cruz hauled Miguel up by his shirt. “Very funny. It will please you all greatly to learn that Madeline knows the location of every grease grill in the city, and she won’t rest until she drags me to all of them.”
“Good woman!”
“Way to go!”
“About time you found someone you can’t twist around your little finger,” his mother put in from the other room. “Go see your father. He should be on the patio burning the meat.”
Cruz indicated for Madeline to precede him, and, taking her elbow, he guided her through the house to the back door.
When they were out of earshot of the others, Madeline whispered, “I am absolutely not going to stay for dinner, Martinez. The joke’s over. Take me home.”
“What? And disappoint my parents? They’ve been after me to bring you over here to meet them. What are they going to think if you go running screaming in the opposite direction?”
“They’ll probably think, ‘There goes another person that Cruz has driven crazy!’” Madeline replied fiercely. “And they’d be right. I cannot believe you tricked me like this! You knew I assumed that you had an idea about the case.”
“Ah, but you should never assume anything,” Cruz counseled her wisely. “That’s the first rule of police work.”
Only the presence of his father on the patio stopped Madeline from giving Cruz a hard push out the doorway. As it was, she contented herself with an inconspicuous jab to his ribs as she passed through the door he held for her.
The twinkle in the elder Martinez’s eye as he straightened from bending over the grill told Madeline that he’d witnessed her rebellion. “Madeline, Tomas Martinez. Pop, this is my partner, Madeline Casey.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Madeline,” Tomas said. “I hope working with my son hasn’t been too trying.”
It was easy to see where Cruz had gotten his striking good looks. Tomas Martinez was still a very attractive man. His face wasn’t as lean as Cruz’s, and he was thicker through the chest and shoulders. He must have been close to sixty in order to have children the ages of his, but he didn’t appear that old.
Madeline could feel her usual reserve with strangers thaw a bit. “I can handle your son.”
“You can? Then maybe you could give pointers to his mother and me. We could use some tips.” He shook his head with mock solemnity.
“Yes, Madeline, do tell,” Cruz invited wickedly. “What’s your secret?”
She matched him look for look. “Never let him get the upper hand,” she said in an aside to his father. “He becomes unbearable in a hurry.”
“You noticed that, too?” his father asked interestedly.
“How are you coming with that meat, Pop?” Cruz interrupted them to inquire. He stepped over and lifted the lid off the grill. “It looks about done to me.”
His father shooed him away. “Leave me alone. Never interrupt a master at work.”
“Mom!” Cruz shouted through the door. “Pop’s going to burn the meat again.”
“Don’t you let him! Why do you suppose I sent you out there? You need to supervise him.”
“Stop hanging over my shoulder,” his father retorted. “Why haven’t you offered your guest something to drink? Where are your manners?”
“Oh, I can’t stay,” Madeline protested.
“Of course you can.”
“Sure you’re staying,” Cruz added. “How else would you get home?”
The look she aimed at him promised retribution. “I really hadn’t planned to be gone long.”
“And I know how important planning is to you. What would you like to drink, Madeline? A beer? Soda?”
Seeing no other way out of the situation, Madeline gave in with as much grace as possible. After all, it wouldn’t do to make a scene in front of his family. It wasn’t Cruz’s parents’ fault that their son was the most maddening, manipulating man she’d ever met. She would deal with him later. He wouldn’t be allowed to continue walking in and out of her personal life at will.
Cruz went to the kitchen, leaving her alone with his father. Tomas immediately engaged her in conversation. “Cruz tells us that you recently transferred to the Southwest District.”
She immediately grew tense. Never in her worst nightmare would she have dreamed she’d have to make polite conversation with the father of a man she was investigating.
“I’ve been with the department for ten years.”
“And already you’re a Detective Sergeant. That’s quite an accomplishment at your age. I know how hard Cruz worked for that rank.”
Madeline was nonplussed. There was no mistaking the admiration in the man’s tone. It struck her as incongruous that a man she’d just met displayed more respect for her career advancement than her own father ever had. Of course, she could be named chief and she doubted it would win her Geoffrey Casey’s respect. He’d always disapproved of her job-and, she feared, of her. She’d long ago given up the hope of ever doing anything that would elicit the amount of respect from him that she’d just received from Tomas.
“We were surprised when we learned Cruz would take the test for sergeant,” the man went on. “He’d never seemed interested before. At one time we thought he would stay in undercover work forever. His mother was greatly relieved when he went back to plainclothes detail. She worried about him constantly.”
“And his father?” Madeline dared to ask softly.
The dark eyes so like Cruz’s caught hers. “I worried, too,” he admitted. “A man’s family is the most precious thing in the world to him. Police work is always dangerous, and when Cruz was shot, we were afraid we would lose him.”
Cruz rejoined them then, and handed Madeline a diet soda. Tomas opened the grill and inspected the roast again. “I think it’s ready. Cruz, hand me the platter.”
As he obeyed, Cruz peered over his father’s shoulder. “I think it was ready twenty minutes ago. You burned the edges again.”
“Everyone’s a critic,” Tomas grumbled good-naturedly. “I like my roast that way.”
When they went inside, the family was milling around the dining room, seating the youngsters at card tables and the adults at the dining table. His sisters were still bustling back and forth from the kitchen, helping Mrs. Martinez carry in the food.
When all were finally sitting down and grace was said, the din began anew. Plates and bowls were passed, accompanied by several noisy conversations. The atmosphere was as alien to her memories of family meals as it was possible to be. Mr. and Mrs. Martinez were in the midst of it all, praising, admonishing and joking with their family. Yet Madeline was not given time to feel out of place. She was kept busy passing dishes and answering questions thrown her way. Cruz was seated next to her, and it was several minutes before she caught him placing more vegetables on her plate.
He grinned when he was found out, unrepentant. “Madeline loves green vegetables. She can’t get enough of them.” He spooned another large helping of broccoli onto her dish. “Go ahead,” he invited. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”
“Someone should have taken you in hand a long time ago,” she informed him narrowly. “You’re too funny for your own good.”
“Go ahead and try,” Cruz’s sister Shannon invited her. “He was barely tolerable when we were kids and we could gang up on him. Now that he’s bigger and taller than anyone else in the family, it’s a little harder.”
“There is one way to keep him in line,” Madeline said slowly, her eyes sparkling with remembrance. “He was almost meek while I was driving his-”
“More milk, Madeline?” he interrupted her quickly.
But his sister gasped. “He let you drive his car?”
It seemed to Cruz that his sister’s voice pierced through every other bit of noise in the room. An uproar ensued.
“Hey, no fair. When I asked, you said no one drove it but you.”
“Can I use it to take Lisa out next weekend, Cruz?”
“What’s this? You haven’t even let me drive it!” This from his father.
Cruz raised his hands for silence. “Time out! The only reason she drove it was because I lost a bet. Believe me, I died a thousand deaths watching her abuse it.”
Madeline continued to eat sedately. “He’s a sore loser, too,” she informed the family, and they laughed. And there was no more discomfort after that. It seemed odd to her later when she thought about it. Nothing in her experience had prepared her for the Martinezes. Their noisy discussions, laughter and teasing were full of mutual love and concern for each other. She wanted to sit back and observe it, but she quickly learned that wasn’t allowed in this house. Everyone at the table was pulled into conversations, and her opinion was sought more than once when one of Cruz’s siblings was arguing with him.
Comparisons between this family and her own were ludicrous. There were simply no similarities to be found. Kathleen Martinez exhibited the same twinkle in her eye and the same penchant for teasing that could be seen in Cruz. Tomas was unabashedly proud of his family. Grandchildren crawled all over their aunts, uncles and grandparents, to the obvious enjoyment of the adults. Madeline wasn’t used to being asked frank questions about herself by people she’d just met. But it was impossible to remain unaffected by the lighthearted atmosphere. She found herself just as curious about them.
Cruz watched Madeline relate to his family with a faint smile. This had turned out better than he’d expected. His family had accepted her as readily as they would any guest brought home. He’d had no qualms about that. It was her reaction to them that he’d wondered about, but he needn’t have worried. She seemed perfectly at ease, and, although he’d had to step in once or twice to head off a particularly nosy question from one of his siblings, Madeline was, overall, holding her own. Watching her here, talking to his family, proved fascinating. That cool reserve that was so much a part of her was still present. But he thought that right now it was more relaxed than usual. He observed as Maureen involved Madeline in a discussion on the horrors of naturally curly hair, and Shannon asked her opinion about the latest political news.
Madeline rose at the end of the meal and prepared to help clear the table. The women stopped her.
“Forget it, Madeline. On Sundays in this house, dishes are the men’s job.”
She raised her eyebrows as she watched Cruz and his brothers start gathering plates with a tremendous clatter. “Well, that’s certainly an enlightened idea.”
Kathleen said, “It’s a new twist on the old-fashioned custom of the men retiring to the parlor after a meal for a smoke. In this house, we allow them to do their male bonding over a sinkful of dirty pans.”
“While the women smoke cigars in the parlor,” Sean said.
“I dry,” Cruz said.
“No way. It’s your turn to wash, buddy.”
“You’re crazy. I washed last week.”
The women left the men to their bickering and went to the living room. Madeline had no more than sat down when she was approached by Cruz’s oldest niece-Robin, she thought her name was. The girl eyed her soberly.
Madeline smiled tentatively. She’d had little contact with children, except, on rare occasions, during a case.
Robin spoke. “Do you want to see my Barbie dolls? I brought them with me today.”
Disarmed, Madeline nodded. “I’d love to, Robin.” The girl took her by the hand, called for her aunt Maureen to follow them, and led the two upstairs.
It was well over an hour later when Madeline returned to the living room. Cruz was sprawled on the floor, with two little ones using him for a sofa. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he motioned her over. “Where have you been?”
She sank gracefully next to him, tucking her legs beneath her. “Admiring Robin’s Barbie collection. My, those dolls sure live in the fast lane.”
His eyes left hers and looked at Robin, who was climbing up on her father’s lap. “Did you have fun playing Barbies, honey?”
The little girl bobbed her head vehemently. “Uh-huh! I learned lots of neat stuff. Maureen taught me how to braid Barbie’s hair, and Madeline showed me how to make Barbie’s skirts longer.” She added solemnly, “’Cause they’re really too short to get respect.”
Stunned silence in the room was followed by gales of laughter. Cruz noted the quick flush that rose to Madeline’s cheeks. He teased, “Well, if anyone can teach you how to get respect, it’s this lady.” In an undertone he asked, “Bet you didn’t find any primly tailored jackets and pants in the wardrobe, did you?”
“Not a one,” she answered wryly. “Most of the outfits were suitable for roller-blading and beauty pageants. Reality doesn’t play a very big part in Barbie’s life. And if that was a slam about my wardrobe,” she added, “watch it. Or I just may have to comment on your seemingly insatiable desire for blue jeans and cowboy boots.”
They took their leave shortly after, and Madeline said goodbye to each member of the family. She thanked Mr. and Mrs. Martinez for their hospitality.
Kathleen waved away her thanks. “We’re glad you came. Next time, don’t wait for Cruz to kidnap you. You’re welcome anytime.”
Tomas added, “You’ll have to come back and tell me how you got Cruz to let you drive his car. Maybe it will work for me.”
“Sorry,” Cruz denied swiftly. “I only fall for that particular bet once.”
“You won’t forget what we talked about, will you, Cruz?” Miguel asked.
“I’ll run home and get my checkbook,” Cruz promised. “I’ll drop the check off here and you can swing by tomorrow before classes and pick it up.”
“Thanks,” Miguel said with relief in his voice. “You’re the best.”
It took several more minutes to get away, as the family gathered around to hug Cruz.
Getting into the car and buckling up, Madeline noted, “I liked your family. They all seemed very nice.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “And everyone seemed to have your number.”
“That’s the problem with families. No respect. Do you mind if we stop at my place before I take you home? I need to get something.”
“Your checkbook?” Madeline asked. At his look she explained, “I heard what you said to Miguel. He seemed pretty relieved. So, tell me. Did you lose a bet to him, too?”
He chuckled. “No, I didn’t lose a bet to him. I think my experience with you yesterday cured me of betting for good. He got in a bind at college again. Some additional fees cropped up and he needs some extra money, that’s all. I’m just helping him out.”
“Helping him out?” she pressed. “Or putting him through school?” She knew she’d guessed correctly by his silence. “You’re putting Maureen through college, too, aren’t you?”
He actually squirmed. “Not exactly. They’ve both gotten some grants. I didn’t want them to have to graduate with huge loans hanging over their heads, that’s all. I give them enough to cover what the grants don’t.”
Maureen had intimated as much to her when they were upstairs. And Madeline could guess that Cruz was downplaying his role in their college careers. Regardless of his protests, she guessed that Cruz was the sole reason his two youngest siblings could go to college. Here was another huge expense that Cruz could inexplicably afford. Her throat tight, she inquired, “And your parents’ house? Were they able to buy that because of you, too?”
He gave a crooked smile. “You don’t realize how machismo works in my family. It’s perfectly acceptable for an older brother to help out a younger sibling. But I couldn’t offer that kind of help to my father. That would be a slap at his male pride. I wouldn’t offend him that way. It’s enough that I’m able to ease his financial burden of educating the two youngest.” And it had been difficult to get his father to accept that kind of help, he remembered wryly. It had taken all of Cruz’s considerable diplomacy to word it in such a way as not to insult the man from whom he’d inherited his own fierce pride.
Madeline was silent. Actually, what she’d learned today only underlined what she’d already surmised about him. The fancy car, the expensive apartment and the financial help he was giving his siblings all pointed to one thing. Cruz Martinez had an outside source of income. She’d already drawn that conclusion, so why should this latest bit of evidence bother her?
And she couldn’t help admitting that it did bother her. She was too good a cop to leap to any conclusions about how he earned that second income, but it was an unknown entity, and she didn’t like loose ends. She preferred things in her life lined up in order, and she didn’t rest on a case until she could fit every piece of evidence into its proper compartment. She hadn’t found anything solid on him yet, and until she did she was going to have to live with this nagging sense of uncertainty.
She scowled. Uncertainty made her uncomfortable, and discomfort kept her edgy. She’d felt like that only once before, before it had become obvious that Dennis Belding had used her for his own financial gain. But that was ridiculous. Why should she feel that way now? The two situations had nothing in common. She had loved Dennis, and Cruz… Cruz was only a job. It was just difficult to spend so much time working as closely as she did with him and not feel some sort of regret that he, like so many crooks before him, might have decided to take the easy way out.
They arrived at his apartment in silence. As he pulled in to a parking place Cruz sent Madeline a concerned glance. Since the brief exchange they’d had upon leaving his folks’ house, she’d fallen into a reflective silence. Maybe he’d made a mistake kidnapping her today. From the little she’d told him about her family, his own must have been a shocking contrast.
“Care to come up?” he invited, his hand hesitating on the door handle.
She surprised him with her answer. “Sure.” She might as well take this opportunity to see his apartment. It was the only way she was going to be able to tell how far out of his price range it appeared to be.
She cast a wary glance around as they entered the front door of the building, hoping that his landlady would not be in sight. Otherwise she would be required to do some very fast talking to explain her previous presence at the building. Fortunately for her, they saw no one else, either in the hallways or the elevator.
After Cruz unlocked his apartment and ushered her inside, Madeline stopped in shock. Far from the opulent surroundings that she’d half expected, half feared, the huge space was very bare. She walked inside and turned around slowly, looking at the place.
Cruz shut the door in back of them and leaned against it. For some reason he couldn’t put a name to, he was waiting in anticipation of Madeline’s reaction to his home. He watched through hooded eyes as she trailed her hand over the wide woodwork with its recent coats of varnish. His gaze followed her to the huge set of windows that looked out at the street. He’d done nothing about curtains yet. He was less concerned about privacy than with preserving the view afforded him at night, when the lights veiled the city like a glittering blanket.
His gaze brooding, he asked himself silently why her approval of his home meant so much to him.