I pulled out my cell phone and tried to turn it on. Dead. Great. How was I supposed to get home?
“Need a ride?”
I looked up into the dark eyes of a very large man in an ill-fitted suit who seemed to know not only who I was but the predicament I was in. Too bad I could smell the cop on him. I was already mentally undressing him and redressing him in something that would be worth stripping back off him.
“Yeah, no. That’s okay. Is there a pay phone around here?”
“Down the hall, but you wouldn’t want to use it without a hazmat suit.” His voice rumbled through me like a commuter train making all the stops—Hot Guy City, Interested Town and Turned-Onville. “Here.” He held out a spiffy-looking phone that looked like it could control the space station. “Use mine.”
“Would you mind switching it on? And setting it to ‘phone’…you know, with the number-pad thingy?”
His lips kicked up at the corner, revealing a rather charming dimple. Damn it! I loved dimples on a guy.
“Sure. Here you go.”
The tips of my fingers slid across his palm. There was a snap and I got a little jolt. Yeah, not sparks. Just plain old static electricity.
“It’s…ah, dry in here I guess.” I laughed, but it wasn’t an aren’t-I-witty chuckle, it was a crazy-psycho-bitch kind of cackle. My flirting skills had been seriously ground to nubs by Chuck Puckett. I’d better shut up before someone decided I should be put on a psych hold.
He watched me with his dark eyes, assessing. Probably thought I’d pocket his phone. Who was this LL Cool J lookalike? And why was he being so generous with his cell phone minutes?
I kept my eye on him—like that was a hardship—and dialed my friend Tabitha, thinking she might be home, but then I remembered it was Tuesday and she had rhombus…no zima…no, that wasn’t right…she had some kind of dance-fitness thing so that was a no-go.
I handed tall, dark and disturbing his phone back. “How do I go back to the number part?”
“How about you tell me the number and I’ll dial it for you?”
“Yeah, sure.” I rattled off Xavier’s number. Hot Cop punched it in and then handed me back his phone.
Hot Cop and I eyeballed each other while I waited for Xav to pick up. I got the feeling I’d seen him before, but couldn’t place him. Maybe I’d seen him at the department store where I worked. He didn’t look like someone who’d step foot in the cosmetics department unless he’d been dragged there by a girlfriend. And why I found the thought of him with a girlfriend so depressing was beyond me. I really needed to get out of this room before Hot Cop’s pheromones caused my ovaries to explode like confetti cannons.
“Finally,” I said when Xav answered.
“Maggs?” He squealed like he was the one who’d been given a cavity search. “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s one phone call. Holy shit, Chiquita, you’re famous. It’s all over the Internet and TV. You’re YourVid famous. A hundred and fourteen…no, a hundred and twenty-one thousand hits on your Walk of Shame. Great mug shot, by the way.” That Xavier. He was nothing if not a big fat boost to my insecurities.
“Gee, thanks. Can you manage to pull yourself away from my humiliation long enough to give me a ride?” I told him where to pick me up, promising to fill him in on the stuff that wasn’t already on the Internet.
I gave old Chocolate Eyes his phone back. “Thanks Mr.… Detective…”
Yeah, I could see the “special”. “What? Was Super Agent already taken?”
I got the full-tilt, crinkly-eyed smile. “Special Agent Clive Poole…FBI.”