“Everything okay?” Heather asked when he passed the reception counter.
Rick raised his eyes to the ceiling, and his expression made Heather giggle.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re not the first man and you certainly won’t be the last to come in here and react to Madison like that.”
* * *
MADISON CLEANED UP the exam room. Since there were no patients waiting for her, she walked over to Heather and leaned on the reception counter.
“How’d it go with Enrique?” Heather asked with a smirk.
“Fine. Why do you call him that?”
“What? Enrique?”
“Uh-huh.”
Heather shrugged. “I think Enrique suits him better than Rick—too common. So does Pitbull.”
“What kind of alias is Pitbull anyway? Why do they call him that?”
“Logan told me it’s because he’s tenacious. About his work. About what matters to him.”
Oh, yes, Madison could see that. She could see him being very determined and stubborn, depending on the circumstances.
“You two met before?” Heather interrupted her thoughts. “And you didn’t remember him?”
“Oh, I remembered, all right,” Madison said.
“But you let me go on about him...”
“First, I didn’t know he was the sergeant. I thought his dog was Zeke, not Sniff. Also, you called him Enrique. I was introduced to him by Angela as Rick. No last name.”
Heather grinned. “Well, I really do think Enrique suits him better. He’s not keen on it... I like it, though. I think it actually amuses him when I call him that. The aka suits him, too, but in a different way. Pitbull fits his personality. Enrique... Well, he’s got that whole sexy Latino thing going for him, and that appeals to me!”
Madison chuckled.
“What can I say? I’m attracted to tall, dark, good-looking men.”
Madison felt her eyes widen. It occurred to her that she might be treading on Heather’s territory by having accepted a date with Rick. “Are you...together?”
Heather laughed, as well. “No! We’re not.” She got up and walked to the printer. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she retorted, “But a girl can dream, can’t she?” She grabbed a printout and left the reception area, her laughter drifting over to Madison.
Madison watched Heather walk away, but her thoughts were on a tall, dark and decidedly handsome cop. Yeah, a girl could dream.
RICK RODE HIS Harley-Davidson Electra Glide onto the narrow driveway at Madison’s house. He shut off the engine and removed his helmet. The small cottage-like house wasn’t what he’d expected. As structured, organized, practical as Madison seemed to be, he’d expected something a little more...well, a little less fanciful. Whimsical was a word he couldn’t remember ever using, but that was what popped into his mind. It made him think of the houses the hobbits occupied in the Lord of the Rings movies.
He remembered his parents taking him to all three films in the series when he’d first lived with them. He smiled at the memory of how they’d tried to translate, in their broken Spanish, some of the finer points related to Middle Earth that he hadn’t understood, despite the fact that he’d spoken English reasonably well as a kid.
Just thinking about it gave him a warm feeling he’d never experienced prior to being part of the Stewart clan. Madison’s place made a similar impression on him.
Her house was well maintained, neat and orderly, if on a small scale. From what he’d seen, neat and orderly defined Madison. He dismounted and grabbed the spare helmet that had been strapped to the back carrier of his bike, then made his way to the front door.
He knocked and glanced at the planter next to him. It didn’t surprise him that he couldn’t see a single dead petal or leaf on the colorful, sweet-smelling plants or in the container. The flowers were so perfect he was tempted to touch them, to make sure they were real. He was a stickler for cleanliness, but he couldn’t consider himself particularly neat. It was almost impossible, living with a police dog.
When the door opened, he felt like a teenager experiencing his first high-school crush.
Madison was wearing a flowing, frilly, multihued summer dress that might have looked fussy on someone else. On her it looked... He couldn’t find the word for it, other than right. Her hair was in some fancy updo, little ringlets teasing the sides of her face. She wore dangly earrings. And her lips, with that beguiling smile, glistened with some sort of shiny stuff as if...well, as if she’d just been kissed and her lips were still moist from it.
He rubbed a hand over his stomach where a knot was forming because the thought of kissing her was all too tempting. Watching those lips, he saw her smile fade. He shifted his gaze to her eyes and noticed her staring at his motorcycle. He glanced over his shoulder at his bright blue bike—his pride and joy—wondering what had put the look of consternation on her face. There wasn’t anything wrong with his bike. He’d polished it to a gleam that morning. He glanced back at her. “Is something wrong?”
She motioned toward the Harley. “You brought a motorcycle.”
“Yes.”
“Look at me.” She gestured with a hand from her torso to her feet. “How am I supposed to ride on that thing in this?”
Rick did look at her. The light material fluttered in the gentle breeze, accentuating the curves he admired so much, the hem ending just above slim, shapely ankles. And he looked down at her feet, virtually naked in the high-heeled, delicate, almost nonexistent sandals she wore. He understood her dilemma, and felt a little foolish. “It’s a barbecue we’re going to,” he said in self-defense. He indicated his own faded jeans and white T-shirt. “You know, burgers, fries, apple pie and beer.”
Madison’s eyebrows furrowed. Obviously, he’d said the wrong thing.
Rick tucked the spare helmet under his arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I’d be bringing my bike. It didn’t occur to me that it would be a problem.” He dropped his gaze to her feet again, those darn sexy feet with the orangey polish on the toenails. “You can’t ride in those shoes. Do you have some sneakers or something?” He almost groaned at the look she gave him. He’d managed to put his foot in his mouth again.
“Do you really expect me to get on that thing with you? As far as my outfit goes, you’re taking me to meet your boss and your colleagues. My clients. I know I’ve already met most of them at the clinic. But that was work and I was in work clothes. Did you expect me to wear jeans?”
Rick felt frazzled and was starting to think this was a big mistake. He wasn’t usually an impulsive person, and this seemed to be a perfect example of why he shouldn’t be. “Well, yeah. That’s what they’ll all be wearing.”
“And their wives or girlfriends?”
“Much the same. But you look great!” he added hastily, forcing a too-wide smile and trying to appease her or at least recover some of the ground he seemed to be losing fast. “Really beautiful.”
Her frown was more pronounced as she eyed his bike again. “I’ll get my keys and we can take my Cayenne instead,” she decided.
He waited until she’d turned her back, then rolled his eyes. She disappeared inside her house but left the door ajar. Before Rick had a chance