Burnout (NYPD Blue & Gold) by Tee O'Fallon

you get sick of my chili.”
    He gave her that damned grin of his she was actually coming to like. “Then you’ll be here a helluva long time.”
    Cassie couldn’t stop herself and smiled. “Don’t count on it, sailor.”
    “Got any family?” Mike cranked the jack to lower the SUV to the pavement, then tightened the nuts with the wrench.
    “Some.” She frowned. Mike’s questions were innocuous enough, but to an undercover cop who’d spent years perfecting the art of subtle questioning, she saw it for precisely what it was. An interrogation. The man knew darned well something was off about her being in this town, and he was bound and determined to find out what. He was too smart for her own good. Keeping her distance was the only way to avoid another inquisition.
    “You sure ask a lot of questions,” she said, trying to inject a note of humor in her voice.
    “You don’t answer them.”
    “Maybe I’m shy.”
    Mike had been about to pick up her flat tire but stood and shook his head. His broad shoulders blocked out the sun, casting a large shadow over her. “Lady, there’s not a shy bone in your body.”
    Cassie pursed her lips. “Why is it you think you know me so well?”
    He chucked her under her chin with one of his long fingers. “Sweetheart, I may not know where you’re from or what you’re doing here, but you and I both know you’re hiding from something. Or some one .”
    For a second, she stopped breathing. Way too close to the truth for comfort. “I am not—”
    “I’m not finished.” Mike gripped her chin lightly but firmly between his thumb and forefinger. The cool, unyielding face of a street-hardened cop stared down at her. His voice took on a distinct edge. “If you’re involved with anything illegal, I suggest you walk away from this town now and never look back.”
    “I am not involved in anything illegal.” She jerked her chin from his hand. “And where do you get off accusing me of that? You don’t know a thing about me.”
    “And you refuse to enlighten me.”
    Much as she wanted to slap him, Cassie realized he was only doing his job, protecting the residents of Hopewell Springs. And he was right about her. Even if he was wrong. His instincts were too freaking perfect.
    Mike glanced her way. “Ever been arrested?”
    Cassie stopped breathing. It had only been a couple of weeks since Dom cuffed her behind the bar at La Femme, but for that job she’d used a different undercover name. Seven months earlier, Cassandra Younger—the name she went by now, in Hopewell Springs—had been picked up by the uniforms as part of an undercover burglary gig. And three months before that, Cassie Younger had been arrested in connection with a scumbag drug dealer selling controlled substances to high school students. As far as she knew, both those old arrests were still in NYSPIN and NCIC, the state and national criminal history databases.
    “I promise you, I’ve never done anything illegal in my life.” Her real life, that was. “And I would never do anything to hurt anyone in this town.”
    “Hope so. If there’s one thing I don’t tolerate, it’s a liar.” Mike watched her for what seemed like an eternity.
    “I am not lying.” Well, kind of. “And I’m not a criminal.” That, at least, was the truth.
    He nodded slightly, as if accepting her answer, then picked up the flat tire as if it were no heavier than a paperweight. He heaved it inside the back of her Trail Blazer then turned so abruptly he practically slammed into her. His hands grasped her shoulders. Hers grasped his waist.
    The next thing Cassie felt were his hands sliding down her arms…
    His lips on hers.

Chapter Six
    A deep, primal, tingling sensation erupted low in Cassie’s belly. Currents, warm and wonderful, snaked up and down her torso, encircling her neck and shoulders. Then the worst thing imaginable happened.
    Her legs wobbled.
    Oh, no. Please, God, no.
    Mom always said that when a man makes you go weak