The Cop and the Chorus Girl by Nancy Martin Page A

who actually wanted to know her. Since coming to New York, she had been subjected to some of the most ham-handed wooing since her uncle Smokey had proposed to his first wife while teaching her the rudiments of silage.
    â€œIn my family,” she said slowly, “boring is boring. You have to be a character or you fade into the woodwork. So I became Dixie—with some help from Granny Butterfield and Mama, that is. Between having Miss Texas and a fan dancer for tutors, and—well, this is what you get.” She lifted her arms from the bath bubbles. “Ta-da!”
    Flynn smiled, one brow raised wryly. “It’s a pretty nice package, I must say. You’ve certainly knocked New York on its ear.”
    â€œThe Sexiest Woman on Earth? Oh, that’s nonsense!”
    Flynn took a breath and let it out slowly, trying to fight down the feelings that were starting to bubble inside him again. It was hard watching her enjoy her bath. “You’re the sexiest thing to come to this city in a long time.”
    She slid over to the edge of the tub again. “Do you think so?”
    He couldn’t help leaning closer, longing to take her lips with his to see if they melted like cotton candy. “I think everybody thinks so.”
    â€œJust because I have a sense of humor about my body? About sex?” Dixie shook her head, looking wise. She laid her forearms on the edge of the tub and floated on her belly. “Listen, this is the body I was born with, so what am I supposed to do? Hide it because big breasts are politically incorrect right now? Hell, I might as well have a laugh at my own expense and enjoy it!”
    â€œSome women would say you’re being exploited.”
    â€œMaybe some women who take their clothes off are exploited,” she retorted. “But I take care of myself. I don’t jump into bed with anyone who comes along. I don’t do bump-and-grind stuff or humiliate myself. If sex can’t be fun, it’s—well, it feels dirty to me, you know?”
    â€œYou certainly look like you’re having fun,” Flynn agreed, trying hard to keep his eyes from traveling down the heaps of bubbles to get a glimpse of the body in question.
    â€œI am having fun. I’ve got a life besides sex, though. Everybody assumes I’m thinking about bedrooms all the time because I look the way I look. But I have a real life!”
    â€œFlaunting yourself onstage?”
    â€œThat’s not why I’m here,” she began. “I mean, I’ve got a job to do—”
    â€œActing like the new Marilyn Monroe?”
    â€œNo! Yes. Well, maybe. Look, underneath the Texas Tornado act, everything is really pretty innocent, don’t you think?” Her blue gaze was direct and challenging as she looked at him from the mounds of perfumed bubbles.
    Flynn didn’t feel the least bit innocent at that moment. All he could think about was diving into the tub with her and covering her talkative mouth with his own.
    â€œIf you wanted to be innocent,” Flynn said slowly, “you’d be wearing a nun’s habit around town instead of that big white hat and a push-up bra.”
    â€œI do not wear push-up bras!” She sat up again.
    â€œYou know what I mean.”
    â€œNo, I don’t! Hand me that towel!” Her temper began to blaze. “I have a body that gives out messages maybe I don’t necessarily want to broadcast to the world, but I can’t help the way I look!”
    â€œYou could tone it down.” Flynn pulled a fluffy white towel from the heated rack and passed it to Dixie.
    â€œWhy should I?” she demanded, snatching the towel from his grasp. “Am I supposed to be punished for having this figure?”
    â€œNo, but—”
    â€œShould I be forced to wear uncomfortable clothes because of the way I look?”
    â€œWell—”
    â€œI hate being told what to do!”
    â€œI’m