Cuff Me(3)

Or that his grandfather had been a cop and his mother had been a police dispatcher…

Okay, so maybe Vincent could sort of understand where Dansen was coming from. The Morettis were kind of NYPD royalty.

And Vincent was proud to be a part of it. Proud to carry on the legacy.

He just got damn tired of the ass kissing.

“Seriously though, thanks,” Dansen said. “Couldn’t have asked for a better detective to show me the ropes. A nicer one, sure. A better-looking one, definitely. And you can be a real—”

“Asshole, I know,” Vincent said.

Dansen held up a finger. “Not what I was going to say. I think that’s the first time you’ve tried to finish my sentence and gotten it wrong.”

“I’m never wrong,” Vin said out of habit.

“Fine.” Dansen rolled his eyes. “You’re an *. Happy?”

Vin didn’t bother responding, just lifted his hand in a final farewell to Dansen before the younger man could say whatever it was he’d wanted to say, and lowered himself into the car.

Vincent slid on his aviator sunglasses as he fastened his seat belt.

Vin kept his face perfectly blank until he’d pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic.

Only then, only out of sight of prying eyes, did he let a smile overtake his face. A smile that quickly became a grin as he headed toward his longtime barber for a very overdue haircut.

He told himself that his decision to get his hair cut after weeks of putting it off had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’d be seeing Jill in a few short hours.

Vincent had never really given two thoughts to what Jill Henley thought of his looks.

But then, he and Jill had never spent three months apart. He’d never had a chance to realize just how much he’d… missed her.

Not that he’d be telling her that.





CHAPTER TWO


One never really realized how much New York City got under your skin until you left it for a while.

It was like one minute New York was your adopted home—a little bit intense, a lot scary.

And the next, you were holding your breath as your plane landed, your entire body on edge with the anticipation of being home again.

Jill Henley smiled as the plane touched down, her eyes closing just for a moment at the realization that she’d be sleeping in her own bed tonight. Going back to her job tomorrow. Eating at her favorite gyros place tomorrow.

But none of that—not the city, nor her pillow-top bed, nor the really freaking amazing gyros—were as important as who awaited her.

The Morettis.

Jill loved her mother desperately—it was the reason she’d spent the past three months in Florida taking care of her.

But the Moretti family had become every bit as much family to Jill as her own mom.

She couldn’t wait to see them again.

All of them.

Okay, so maybe there was one Moretti in particular whom she was especially excited to see.

Not that the excitement was mutual.

As she walked through JFK toward baggage claim, she couldn’t figure out for the life of her why she was even the tiniest bit disappointed about the fact that Vincent Moretti wouldn’t be the one picking her up from the airport.

She hadn’t even asked him. He might have said yes. Maybe. But it would have been done with a grunt and a grumble, and probably a lecture about how his workload was double because his partner had “up and ditched him.”

Besides, it made more sense for Elena to pick her up anyway.

Not only was Elena her best friend, but Elena was an attorney at a fancy-pants law firm, with access to a company car that was a hell of a lot nicer than Vin’s car and didn’t smell like old coffee.

Plus, Jill had news.

Big news.

The biggest.

The kind of news that female friends squealed over in the appropriate, gushing manner.

So why was she so nervous?

Jill bit her lip as she waited at baggage claim for the carousel to start dropping her flight’s bags.

She pulled out her cell and texted Elena. At baggage claim.

Cool. Stuck in traffic on airport drive. Can’t WAIT to see you. xoxo.

Jill smiled. She and Elena had texted frequently while Jill had been in Florida, but texts and phone calls weren’t the same as a good, in-person gab session.

They needed wine and cookies and ice cream. Oh, and pasta. God, she’d missed pasta. The from-a-jar spaghetti sauce she’d made for her mom once a week couldn’t compare with Maria Moretti’s made-from-her-own-tomatoes sauce.

Ten minutes later, Jill had heaved her two enormous suitcases off the carousel just as Elena called her phone.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry. Just now pulling up. Where you at? I’ll run in.”

“Run, huh?” Jill asked as she wheeled her bags toward the door. “Tell me, how high are your heels today, four inches or five?”

“Okay, so I’ll stride purposefully,” Elena said. “Just tell me what carousel thingy you’re at. I can have Cory circle around.”

“Who the heck is Cory?”

“New driver. He’s totally cute. Great butt.”

Jill rolled her eyes. “He can totally hear you, huh?”

“Totally. Okay, now where are you for real? I’m coming in, but if I break a nail—”