CUFF ME by Lauren Layne
Vincent Moretti is one of the NYPD's top homicide detectives-and one of the most eligible bachelors in town. His family, however, thinks he should date his longtime partner, Jill-a sassy, sexy, smart-mouthed blonde who drives him absolutely crazy.
Behind the quiet authority, tough-guy demeanor, and dark aviator glasses lies a man with a big soul-and a hard body that can soften any girl's heart. After years as his coworker, Jill Henley has given up hope that anything could happen between her and Vin. Besides, loving him would break all the rules. But seeing Jill with someone else triggers feelings in Vincent he never knew he had. Now he'll have to stop playing good cop/bad cop-and find a way to convince her to be his partner for life. . .
There’s something
wrong with a man that grins like that at a crime scene.”
Detective Vincent
Moretti glanced up from where he’d been studying the gunshot wound of the vic
and glared at the officer who’d been shadowing him for the past three months.
“I wasn’t
grinning.”
Detective Tyler
Dansen never paused in scribbling in the black notebook he carried everywhere.
“You were definitely grinning.”
“Nope.”
Dansen glanced up.
“Fine. Maybe not grinning. But I’m one hundred percent sure I saw you smile.”
“How about you be
one hundred percent sure about who shot this guy instead?” Vincent said
irritably.
Dansen returned his
attention to his damn notebook, but he didn’t look particularly chagrined by
Vin’s reprimand.
Oh, what Vin
wouldn’t give to go back to those early days when all he’d had to do was look
at Dansen, and the kid practically dropped into a deferential bow.
Three months of
spending every workday in each other’s company had the newly minted detective
acting nearly as impudent as Vincent’s actual partner.
Nearly being an
important distinction, because Vincent didn’t think they made ’em sassier, more
stubborn, or more annoying than Detective Jill Henley.
And he would know.
They’d been partners for six long years, and their pairing up as partners was
proof of God’s sense of humor.
Jill Henley was
Vincent’s opposite in every way.
Jill was chipper,
charming, and smiley.
Vincent was... none
of those things.
Especially not the
last one. Although, if he was being really honest with himself, Dansen may have
been right about Vincent cracking a smile earlier.
It’s not that Vin
was immune to death. There was absolutely nothing humorous about a man lying
cold in his own blood and guts, dead from a gunshot wound to the stomach.
But after six years
as a homicide DT for the NYPD, one learned to compartmentalize. To let the
brain occasionally go somewhere else other than death even as you were staring
straight at it.
It was the only way
to survive. Otherwise it was nothing but puking and nightmares.
And speaking of
puking...
Vincent stood and
gave Detective Dansen a once-over.
“If you’re gonna
barf, do it outside,” he said, just to needle the younger man.
Dansen threw his
arms up in exasperation. “That was one time. One time! And I hear it happens to
everyone on their first day.”
“Didn’t happen to
me.”
“That’s because
you’re a machine,” Dansen muttered under his breath.
Vincent didn’t
respond to this. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before. Robot. Machine.
Automaton.
He just didn’t know
what people expected him to do about it.
In the movies,
there was always some reason for the semi-mechanical, unfeeling action hero.
Either a dead wife,
an abusive past, or some other sort of jacked-up emotional history. But Vincent
had always sort of figured he’d been born this way. Quiet. Reserved. Broody.
It’s not that he
didn’t feel. Of course he did. He just didn’t feel out loud. He wasn’t sure
that he really knew how to, and wasn’t sure he wanted to learn.
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