Sam grinned. “The teddy was real racy?”
Susan didn’t like his enthusiasm. “Why does that please you so?”
His grin vanished. “Why are you so fast to jump to conclusions? I am not interested in Savannah.” He palmed his crotch. “There’s nothing here. Totally soft.”
Susan dropped her eyes to the place he touched. “I wouldn’t say there’s nothing there,” she said, watched and waited for a minute, then added, “or that what’s there is totally soft.”
Gritting his teeth, Sam asked tightly, “Want it now?”
She shook her head.
“Then, ease up, honey. Push me too far, and you’ll get it whether you want it or not.”
His threat excited her. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that she trusted him. She knew he’d never hurt her. And she suspected that whenever he took her, she’d be ready.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He looked irritably off toward the wall, then dropped his head and shook it slowly. When he looked up again, he wore a sheepish grin. “You are incredible, do you know that?”
“Is incredible good or bad?”
“Only time will tell.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. We still haven’t figured out why you went home and drank last night.”
“I didn’t know we were here to find out.”
“Indirectly, we are. So. Why did you go home and drink?”
“That’s indirect?” When he gave her a warning look, she said, “I told you. I was waiting for you to break in and you didn’t come.”
“You also said that you suspect Savannah has a new man. Does that bother you?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure. Besides, maybe I’m imagining things. Savannah doesn’t have time for involvement with a man. She has a career.”
“Many women have menandcareers.”
“But do they handle both well?” Susan asked in a knowing way. “It seems that every time I turn around another article’s being written about the plight of superwoman. Either she’s consumed by guilt that she’s depriving her family of something, or she’s angry that her husband isn’t doing his share, or she’s too tired to make love. A person only has one head; she can only wear one hat.”
Sam popped a rasher of bacon in his mouth whole and talked around it. “That’s an interesting statement.”
“It’s true.”
“On the other hand,” he swallowed and spoke more clearly, “if you were to say that she can only wear one hatat a time,the statement takes on new meaning. Men have to switch hats. I can’t wear my cop’s cap twenty-four hours a day.”
Staring at his complacent expression, Susan had the sinking feeling that she would lose the argument if she pursued it. So she decided a small detour was in order, particularly since he’d raised an interesting point. “I can’t picture you wearing any kind of cap,” she said and held out her coffee cup for a refill. “Why do you wear your hair so long?”
He poured the coffee. “I like it this way.”
“Wouldn’t short hair be easier to care for?”
He shrugged. “I have easy hair. Towel dry, and that’s it.”
“I’d think your superiors would prefer something more traditional.”
“Nope. I don’t look like a cop. Makes things better for undercover work.”
