Protecting What's His (Line of Duty #1)(28)

Ginger could sense the direction of his thoughts. “I wish I’d known that day in the hallway you were headed to a funeral. I still feel a little guilty about telling you to go to hell.”

“If I recall correctly, I deserved it.”

She wrinkled her nose, then sighed. “Well, it certainly isn’t an easy life you’ve chosen for yourself. I’m sorry I added to it that particular day. Even if you did deserve it.”

The hand in her hair began massaging her neck. “It hasn’t been easy for you, either. Has it?”

Ginger didn’t show any reaction to his casually posed question, but her internal defenses shot to attention. “That’s a story for a different day.”

She sensed him wanting to press her for more, but he wisely refrained. A heavy silence descended between them as they danced, and Ginger searched her brain for a way to lighten the mood again.

“Patty mentioned something interesting during dinner.”

“Did she?”

“Hmm. She took some liberties in responding to your invitation tonight.”

His chest rumbled with laughter against her cheek. “So it was her. I had a feeling.”

Reluctantly, Ginger pulled away to look up into his face. Being held by him felt too natural, like she could crawl into his arms and fall asleep. But cuddling and neck massages were not a part of what they were doing here together, and she needed to remind herself of that fact. Derek was the same man who spanked her without warning, pleasured her in front of a mirror so he could watch. She shouldn’t feel safe with him, but she did. It forced her to question her judgment.

The first Derek, the one who breathed sensuality, whose very words elicited a response from her body, that Derek she could accept. Warm, humble, apologetic Derek quite frankly terrified her.

Someone needed to redraw the battle lines, and it looked like it would be up to her.

She gazed up at him through her lashes. “Surely, Lieutenant, you keep a few women on reserve to bring to events like this, or maybe just the occasional late-night date. Why not call one of them? You and I want something from each other and it doesn’t include prime rib dinners and dancing.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously and Ginger sensed he could see right through her. “You told me to try harder. I’m just following orders.”

“I didn’t think you were in any condition to pay attention that night.”

“I always pay attention where you’re concerned.”

The song ended and after a moment, Derek let his arms drop, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. People around them made their way to the bar or returned to their tables, but Derek and Ginger remained rooted in place.

“Since you appear to be the expert, what do we want from each other, Ginger?”

“I think you know.”

“Oh, I do. But I want to hear you say it.”

Painfully aware of the crowd milling around them, she stepped closer and reached up to adjust his bow tie, lowering her voice to a near-whisper. “I want to show you instead.”

Derek’s quick exhalation of breath stirred the hair on her head. His hand banded around her elbow, steering her off the dance floor. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Startled by his reaction, Ginger stopped him before they reached the table. “Wait. I need to use the ladies’ room. I’ll meet you at the coat check.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, so she turned and slipped through the crowd toward the restroom before he could grab her again. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait in line and the opulent bathroom was relatively empty, save the uniformed attendant handing out paper towels and breath mints.

Washing her hands and giving herself a quick glance in the mirror, Ginger turned to leave but stopped abruptly when a tall blonde entered the bathroom. She recognized the woman from their table, but hadn’t been introduced, nor were they given an opportunity to speak during dinner. Easily six inches taller than Ginger, she looked elegant in a pale gray cocktail dress, which highlighted the icy blue of her eyes.

“Well hello there,” the blonde slurred, leaning a little too close to her. Ginger smiled back indulgently, having spent the better part of her life associating with drunken people. It required walking a fine line between friendly and patronizing. She liked to think her technique had been perfected.

“Hi. I recognize you from my table. We didn’t get a chance to meet, though. I’m Ginger.” She held out her hand, but the woman simply looked at it and laughed hysterically.

“Oh, my God. Please say that accent isn’t real.”

“Real, I’m afraid.” Unlike your breasts. “Guess you don’t hear many Tennessee accents in Chicago.”

“Nope.” She pretended to look thoughtful. “I guess it must be kind of a novelty for someone like Derek. Although I’m surprised he’d bring you to such an important event sounding like…I don’t know, a cowgirl or something.” Apparently, she found that awfully funny and sunk against the wall in a fit of laughter.

Ginger somehow kept the smile glued to her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m Lisa.”

She stepped around the other woman, intent on exiting the bathroom. “Well, Lisa, it’s been lovely. But I can’t just spend all night in the bathroom.”

“I know exactly what you’ll be spending the night doing, cowgirl.”