Shelley Cooper - Laura And The Lawman

“What about sex?”

She didn’t take her gaze off the road. “That’s number three.”

“Number three?”

“Oh, men like to believe that sex is number one, because they spend so much time thinking about it, but it’s really number three.”

Folding his arms across his middle, he shifted in his seat so he could stare directly at her. “And number two is?”

“Money.”

He drew a deep breath. “So what you’re saying is that everything a man does, everything I do, is a direct result of my craving for power?”

“Exactly.” Her voice warmed to her theme. “Men join gangs, they make weapons, they wage war. They buy fancy sports cars or big, monster trucks, preferably with stick shifts in them, to prove how macho they are. They do all this, because they need to feel powerful.”

“You’ll notice,” he said, nodding toward the dashboard, “this truck doesn’t have a stick shift.” What he didn’t bother telling her was that this particular model only came with automatic transmission.

“Doesn’t matter,” she replied blithely. “It doesn’t change the symbolism.”

“The symbolism being,” he said with exaggerated patience, “that this truck represents my need for power?”

“Of course.”

Antonio felt the beginnings of a headache. What crazy impulse had deluded him into thinking he could make small talk with her? He had no one to blame but himself. After all, she had been exceedingly “friendly” toward him at the beginning. That friendliness was what had gotten him so bent out of shape. And why? Simply because she wasn’t the type of person he’d hoped she’d be.

He was the one who had blown it by not bothering to disguise what he really thought of her. Obviously, if her continued prickliness around him, and the way she was goading him this very minute, were anything to go by, Ruby was the type who held grudges.

Even though he knew he was being deliberately taunted, he couldn’t let it go. “How does this truck symbolize my need for power?”

“Take its size, for instance.”

“What about it?”

She waved an arm. “Extended cab. A body that stands over six feet off the ground. Nobody traveling behind you, except a guy in an eighteen-wheeler, can see over you. Or around you. Face it, Michael, you’re making a statement with this vehicle.”

If he kept gritting his teeth this way, his dentist was going to make a fortune. “I am?”

“Yes. You’re saying you want to own the road, and everybody else better get out of your way. Driving this truck makes you feel powerful.”

“What about women?” he challenged. “Don’t they crave power?”

“It’s their number-one craving also. But they have to go about getting it more subtly. This is a male-dominated society, you know.”

“How does a woman go about getting power?”

“Pandering to a man’s ego. Dressing nicely for him and maintaining her figure. Letting a man think she’s small and helpless. But mainly through sex.”

“Is that what you’re doing with Joseph?” he asked softly. “Asserting your need for power?”

She didn’t blink. “Of course.”

The thought of her in Joseph Merrill’s arms made him want to smash his fist into something. Preferably Joseph’s jaw.

Antonio decided he’d had enough small talk. It certainly wasn’t getting him anywhere he wanted to go. Reaching into the glove compartment, he brought out a crossword puzzle book and a mechanical pencil. At least these puzzles he could decipher. They didn’t try his patience the way a certain brunette did.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He pulled a lap board out from under the seat and opened the book to a fresh page. Tapping the pencil against the board, he read the first clue.

“Working a crossword puzzle.”

“You like crossword puzzles?”

He filled in the answer before replying. “Yes, I do.”

“I don’t care too much for puzzles.”

He looked over at her. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “Too much work. I’d rather spend my time doing other things.”

“Like your hair and your nails, you mean?” he asked snidely.

“Absolutely,” she agreed.

Silence settled around them once more.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a six-letter word for an igneous rock composed of labradorite and augite, would you?” he asked a few minutes later.

“Gabbro,” she replied immediately, seemingly without thinking.

Antonio sat up straight in his seat. When he glanced over at her, her gaze was focused on the winding road. For a woman who professed not to like crossword puzzles, she knew the answer to a fairly obscure clue. Yet another mystery for him to solve.

“Would you mind spelling that?” he asked carefully.

She did. He checked, and the word fit.

“How did you know that?” he asked.

“I must have seen it on a game show.” There was a sudden cautiousness in her voice.

“A game show?” He didn’t bother to hide his skepticism.

“I just love game shows, don’t you?” she gushed. “Especially the ones where you can win a lot of money.”

“Ah, yes, man’s number-two need,” he drawled.

“Exactly.”

“You have an interesting take on the human condition.”

She looked at him out of the corner of one eye. “What take is that?”

“That every man, and woman for that matter, is solely out for him or herself. Power, money, sex, they’re all that matter. If you don’t look out for number one, no one else will. Let me know, please, if I’m mistaken.”

“No. You’ve summed it up quite nicely.”

“Tell me,” he asked. “How did you come by this conclusion?”

“What’s it matter to you?”

It mattered because, as far as he was concerned, the way she was wasting her life on a man who shouldn’t deserve her was an even bigger crime than the one that very same man was allegedly committing.

“It doesn’t, really. I was just curious. Did you pick your theory out of thin air? Or did you formulate it after exhaustive study? Perhaps you wrote your doctoral thesis on the topic.”

“Now you’re mocking me.”

He gazed at her seriously. “How am I mocking you?”

“I didn’t go to college.”

“How could I know that?” he asked softly, although he was well aware, from reading about her in the dossier on Joseph Merrill, that Ruby O’Toole did not possess a college degree. “All I know about you is that you work for Joseph and that, in your words, you belong to him.”

He knew one other thing. She was smarter than she let on. Did part of her strategy for snaring Joseph also include acting dumb?

“If you must know,” she told him, “I’ve earned the right to hold the opinions I do. The right of experience.”

“You certainly are experienced,” he muttered.

“Did you say something?”

He looked down at the puzzle. “Just talking to myself.”

“Can I ask you something, Michael?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you so upset? Are you really going to sit there and try to convince me that you and I don’t share the same philosophy about the human condition?”

Her words brought him up short. Way short. How could he have been so stupid? So careless? He’d nearly gone and blown it all by getting his underwear in a twist. From now on, he would have to tread extremely carefully while in her presence. Ruby O’Toole could pull him out of character faster than a magician could pull a rabbit out of his hat.

And if she started thinking about the contradictions… He had to change his tune, but fast.

“You’re right,” he conceded, hoping to sound rueful, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I do share your philosophy. But no man likes to be seen through so easily. It’s a blow to his ego. I was annoyed. I suppose I was trying to get a rise out of you.”

“That’s what I thought,” she replied.

“You were wrong about one thing, though,” he said.

“What?”

“Power is not my number-one need. Money is. If I have enough money, I can buy all the power I need.”

She bestowed a superior smile on him. “If you say so.”

He felt the need to have the last word. “Could I offer you a caution?”

“Of course.”

“I recommend you not share your philosophy with Joseph.”

Her laughter was light and amused. “Trust me, Michael. I would never be so blunt with a man I’m seeing romantically.”

No, he thought sourly. She’d just bat those impossibly long eyelashes of hers at him, and he’d dissolve into a puddle of testosterone need.

Just an hour ago he’d been certain he knew all there was to know about Ruby O’Toole. But after her discourse on man’s and woman’s need for power—and after telling him how much she needed to sublimate all her wants and desires to those of the man who would take care of her—he wasn’t certain at all. Then there was her disclaimer about any knowledge of an advanced crossword puzzle clue, followed by her calling him on the carpet for acting out of character.

He wasn’t about to go so far as admitting that there might be some depth to her, after all. But he would concede he didn’t know everything he thought he did.

Just who are you, Ruby O’Toole? More important, what are you up to? What secrets do you know? And how do I get you to tell them to me?

They stopped for lunch at a diner outside of Beckley, West Virginia. To Antonio’s surprise, Ruby ordered a cheeseburger, French fries and a chocolate shake. He watched in silence as she took a bite of her cheeseburger, then closed her eyes. A look of rapture crossed her face, and she chewed lustily.

Even though he didn’t like her all that much, Antonio felt the stirring of arousal at the sight. His own food forgotten, he sat back in his chair and watched her. When a rivulet of juice ran down her chin, he had to fight the urge to lean forward and taste it for himself. Did she make love with as much abandon as she ate?

“Napkin?” He plucked one from the receptacle on the table and thrust it toward her.

“Thanks.” She took the proffered item from him with a smile. When her chin was dry, she asked, “Aren’t you hungry?”

He blinked. “What?”

She nodded toward his plate. “You haven’t eaten anything.”

Antonio picked up his club sandwich and took a bite. He didn’t taste a thing.

Ruby tossed him a curious glance before returning to her meal.

He didn’t know what was worse: the silence between them, during which his arousal continued to grow painfully as he covertly watched her, or the small talk that inevitably ended up in the opposite direction from the one he intended to take.

At least with small talk he’d have something else to concentrate on. If he just sat here, watching her eat, by the time they paid the bill he’d be so aroused he’d be walking funny.

Of course, with all the blood in his body centered in one vital organ, his powers of thought were severely limited at the moment. Still, if he tried hard enough, he should be able to come up with something to say.

“You’re really going to eat all that food?” was the brilliant opening he finally led with.

She arched an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I?”

Antonio tried to sound nonchalant. “It’s not exactly low in fat. I just assumed, like most women, you spend all your time watching your figure.”

Ruby picked up a French fry. Tilting her head back, she opened her mouth. Three clean bites with her incredibly straight teeth, and the French fry disappeared. Antonio was sweating by the time she swallowed.

“Watching my figure is for men to do,” she said, picking up another fry.