Ladies' Man Read Free

was more than his usual case of Uptown Girl Syndrome—probably because after he’d had a chance to talk to her, it was clear that she wasn’t a girl,
and
she wasn’t actually from the wealthy part of Manhattan, despite the fact that she looked the type. Although, if T.S. were here, no doubt he’d be prepared to argue that Connecticut was, in fact, simply an extension of the Upper East Side.
    But T.S. wasn’t here. Actually, it was
because
T.S. wasn’t at the airport right now that Sam was here instead.
    T.S. had called Sam this morning in a panic. The writer had agreed to wine and dine an elderly relative of Bob Osborne’s tonight—forgetting that this evening was also his three-year-old daughter’s first ballet recital.
    From what Sam could gather, T.S. was in the middle of negotiations with the famous talk show host. T.S. wanted to write Bob Osborne’s authorized biography, covering everything from his well-to-do childhood to his three-year stint in Vietnam to his battle with substance abuse and all the way up to his recent rise in popularity on network television. Bob had called T.S., asking him to have dinner with his aunt, and in return, he said he’d go ahead and give his approval for the book.
    T.S. had tried to call Bob back to explain about his must-attend prior commitment, but the talk show host was unavailable, unreachable—totally out of touch.
    That was when T.S. had called Detective Sam Schaefer of the New York City Police Department.
    They’d been best friends since fifth grade, and Sam was more than willing to help out his buddy.
    He hadn’t thought it was important to tell T.S. that tonight was his first night off-duty in close to three weeks. He didn’t mention that he and his partner had been working a case that had given him a mountain of overtime hours and little time to relax. Or socialize. In any way.
    It was just bad luck that he had been between relationships these past few weeks. Of course, he spent most of his time between relationships, since none of his relationships ever lasted more than a week or two. Some were even shorter.
    But Sam had learned through experience that starting a relationship took more time and energy than continuing or ending one. And he hadn’t had time to start a new one while working overtime. This particular in-between-relationships period had been dragging on for months now.
    But now that his case was over, he’d been toying with the idea of “coincidentally” bumping into the precinct’s pretty new administrative assistant as she was leaving work. He had been thinking about inviting her out for drinks and, if that went well, dinner. And if
that
went well, the possibilities were endless.
    The truth was, he could have done that last night. In fact, the girl had lingered for a moment at his desk on her way out the door. But Sam had chosen to spend the time finishing up the last of his paperwork.
    He’d looked up at the girl, and in a split second he’d played out the time they’d spend together right to the very end.
    And it ended ugly.
    It ended with tension in the office, with angry words and recriminations, with tears near the water cooler and dark looks in his direction from the precinct captain.
    In the past he might have been desperate enough to endure all that for the sake of hot sex with a pretty girl. But these days, knowing that the relationship was going to end badly was the psychological equivalent of throwing a bucket of ice water on his desire.
    And it was powerful ice water. He’d been celibate for many months now, and yesterday, when he hadn’t asked the AA out, he’d felt convinced that he could easily handle many more months without sex.
    And then Ellen Layne had walked into the airport newsstand. And he’d been just as convinced that he wouldn’t last another day without getting it on with this incredible woman. He’d had a solid case of lust at first sight.
    Thinking back on their conversation, Sam knew without a doubt that