Champagne Rules (15 page)

“The cops. Suzanne, pull your clothes together.” Hurriedly, he lifted himself off her, trying with one hand to yank down her skirt while with the other he pulled off the condom. He grabbed at his pants and briefs, awkwardly hauling them up his legs. Just as he zipped his fly, powerful flashlights illuminated them. Suzanne was on her feet too, and he took her hand as they stood, swaying, on the wooden bridge.

“Step apart from each other,” a male voice ordered. “And come down from there. Now.”

Ignoring the instruction to separate, Jax guided Suzanne to the ladder. Then, thinking about her short skirt and tiny thong, he climbed down first himself. As she followed, he used his body to shield her from the two officers.

He’d teased her about getting them arrested, and now it seemed to be happening. As a lawyer, he should be worried, but for some reason the whole situation was striking him as hilarious.

“Apart! Step apart. And hold your hands out where we can see them.” This time it was a female voice.

“As if we’re carrying hidden weapons,” he murmured to Suzanne.

“Ah,” she whispered back, “but you are, big boy.”

A laugh sputtered out of him before he could suppress it.

“Step apart!” the male voice hollered.

Trying to act like an adult, he moved a foot or so away from Suzanne and they both walked forward, holding their hands up. The two officers turned flashlights on their faces, and Jax winced as his eyes began to water. “What’s the problem, officers?”

“You’re trespassing,” the man responded.

He frowned. “It’s a public schoolyard.”

“It’s closed to the public between dusk and dawn. Didn’t you see the sign?”

“Uh, no, it was . . . dark.” Another chuckle was building in his chest and he tried to hold it back, but he could hear it resonate in his voice. Suzanne gaped at him, her face stunned in the harsh glare of the female officer’s flashlight. He saw the exact moment when she too began to crack up.

Quickly he said, “Sorry, we didn’t see the sign. We didn’t mean to trespass and we won’t do it again.”

The female officer said, “And your reason for being in the playground was?”

Suzanne let out a splutter of laughter. Then she said, “It was m-my fault. I saw the swings and made a b-beeline for them.”

Her voice shook as she fought the giggles. “It’s so long since I’ve been on a sw-swing. And then I had to slide down the slide, and then we saw the fort, and it was . . . you know, like being kids again.”

The male cop said, “Not from where we were sitting, ma’am.”

It was Jax’s turn to laugh. He just couldn’t hold it in anymore. And that got Suzanne going again.

“Neither of you seem to be taking this very seriously,” the woman officer said stiffly. “Let’s see some ID, folks.”

Jax pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed it to the male officer as Suzanne fumbled in her shoulder bag. He sure as hell hoped a bunch of kinky condoms didn’t pick now to escape. The male cop herded Jax a few more steps away from the women, and took his time riffling through his wallet, shining his flashlight on the contents. “Mr. Navarre, is this your current address?”

“Yes, I live in San Francisco.”

“And you’re here on holiday or business?”

“Just a quick weekend visit with my, uh, friend, Suzanne.”

The officer pulled out a card and showed it to him. Damn, his State Bar card. “Guy like you ought to know better.”

“Yeah, but . . .” He glanced over to Suzanne. A few feet away, the woman officer seemed to be going through a similar rigmarole with her. He perked up his ears as she said, “Ms. Brennan.”

Ah-ha. Now he knew Suzanne’s last name. And, if she’d been listening, she knew his. It was a peculiar way to find out. There’d been no particular reason to keep their surnames secret, but the subject had never come up.

“You sure the lady’s a friend, and she consented?”

The cop’s serious tone brought Jax’s attention back to him. The man was subjecting him to narrow-eyed scrutiny. Ah. Of course the guy had to check that the sex was consensual. Jax sobered up quickly. “Yes, of course. Just ask her.”

Duh. That’s exactly what the female officer would be doing right now.

“And she lives in this neighborhood?” the officer continued.

“I . . .” He couldn’t confess that he didn’t know where she lived. “We were eating at a little Greek place a few streets over, and decided to go for a walk afterwards.”

“A walk.”

“Yeah. Then we saw the playground. We didn’t see any sign, honestly.”

“Okay, you stand right there, don’t move an inch,” the officer ordered. He went over to the women, and then the two cops went to stand a few yards away, conferring in hushed tones. Jax couldn’t overhear a word.

He glanced back at Suzanne, ready to exchange a wry grin, but found her looking stunned.

What had that female officer said to her?

He took a step toward her, but she made a quick “stay away” gesture and he stopped. What the hell was going on?

After a few minutes, the male cop came back. “Okay. The lady confirms it was consensual. All the same, it was stupid.”

The man’s lips twitched, but he straightened them quickly.

“Acting like teenagers.”

“I know.” Jesus, didn’t the guy realize he wasn’t responsible for his behavior when he was around Suzanne?

He glanced over, saw Suzanne and the other officer deep in conversation again.

“You aren’t really going to arrest us, are you?” he asked.

“For, uh, acting like teenagers?”

The officer scratched his chin and Jax got the sense he was fighting laughter. “We’ll let you off with a warning this time. 

Seeing as you’re a visitor in town, and all.” He folded up the wallet and handed it back. “So, how you liking Vancouver?”

Jax couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter. “It’s got a lot to offer, from what I’ve seen so far.”

“I just bet it does.” The officer’s voice shook. Then, unexpectedly, he shone the light in Jax’s face again. “You two been drinking?”

“Wine with dinner, over several hours.”

“Be sure to walk it off, or call a cab rather than drive home.”

“Of course.” Probably not a good idea to tell him that walking it off was what had got them here in the first place. The officer joined his partner and they strolled toward their car, heads bent close, male and female laughter blending together. Jax squeezed Suzanne’s shoulder as they too walked toward the street. Under his hand, her muscles were tight. “Are you all right?”

“Keep walking, they’re watching us.”

The officers had climbed into their car but weren’t going anywhere.

In silence, he and Suzanne left the park and started along the sidewalk. After a couple of minutes, the police car drove past them.

He waited until it was out of sight, then stopped and turned her to face him. “God, I’m sorry, Suzanne, this whole thing’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not.” Her voice was subdued. “And it’s okay. At least we didn’t get arrested. Let’s keep walking, in case they come back.”

Way to kill a fun, sexy mood, he thought as they continued on in silence.

“So, what did the lady cop ask you?” he finally said. Under his hand, her shoulders tightened even more. It felt as though she was holding her breath. Then she exhaled loudly and her shoulders went down. “I’m not sure you want to know.”

Oh yeah, like he could resist an opening like that? “’Course I do.”

“Okay, to s-sum up,” her voice shook a little, “she wanted to know if you’d raped me. When I assured her you hadn’t, she wanted to know if I was a hooker and you were my pimp.”

“What the hell?” Sure, the cops needed to know the sex was consensual, but that was going way the fuck too far. Suzanne swung around to face him, and stared up into his eyes. “Because you’re black and I’m white.”

“Oh shit.” He should’ve known. “Christ, Suzanne, I’m sorry.”

“No,
I’m
sorry. I apologize on behalf of my ignorant, racist city. Damn it, Jaxon, it’s so, so . . .” She shook her head vigorously, clearly unable to come up with the right word.

“It’s racial profiling. San Francisco’s not so bad. Guess we have more blacks per capita, but it still happens.”

He was pissed, and yet he thought about what the cops had seen. “A couple fooling around in a playground, they’d have assumed neighborhood teens. Then they see us up close. Welldressed black guy, beautiful blonde in a skimpy top and a miniskirt. Not what they’d expected, especially in a neighborhood like this.”

“So they jump to all sorts of crazy conclusions, just because of how we look?”

“That’s all they have to go on until they find out more. Suzanne, they wanted to make sure you were safe.”

She looked indignant. “From you? But you’d never hurt me.”

“And just how would they know that?”

Her eyes widened. “I can’t believe you’re defending them.”

“I’ve been exposed to lots worse. Any black guy has.”

“It’s so unfair.”

He sighed. It was sweet she was pissed off, but the lady didn’t have a firm grip on reality. “Yeah, some of it’s really unfair. But it is fair to make sure a woman’s safe when she’s in a vulnerable situation with a guy who’s a lot bigger and stronger than her.”

She frowned.

“You did that too,” he pointed out. “Last night, you had friends at the beach to make sure you felt safe.”

“You knew that?”

“Sure. Saw you wave them away.”

“You know it wasn’t because you’re black, right? Mostly, it’s because my friends were worried about me meeting a nearstranger.”

“Good friends.”

“The best.”

He was glad she had them too. Suzanne had this crazy—delightful—penchant for doing outrageous things, and one day it might lead her into trouble. Nice to know she had folks looking out for her. She sighed. “It’s a tough world, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes. But I’ve learned that getting mad’s more likely to hurt than help.” He smiled at her. “Besides, this world has lots of good things too. Like us, together.” He bent to touch his lips to hers in a kiss that was friendly and reassuring, rather than passionate.

Finally, she seemed to relax. And was that a gleam of mischief in her eyes?

“The lady cop thinks you’re a hottie,” she said. Good God. “What?”

“Once she was convinced there was no problem, that we were lovers, she wanted to know if you were as good as you looked. I said even better.”

“A police officer wanted to know . . .”

“If you were a hot lover.”

He shook his head. “Women!”

“I don’t think that was racial profiling, I think it was pure admiration.” She frowned slightly. “How do you tell?”

“Sometimes you can’t. There are so many stereotypes.”

“Well hung,” she said. Then, “Sense of rhythm. White men can’t jump; only black guys are good at basketball.”

He couldn’t hold back a chuckle. What would she think if she found out he’d played b-ball for years?

“I’m glad you can laugh about it,” she said, a little stuffily.

“Oh God, sometimes you just gotta laugh. If you take this stuff too seriously, it messes with your head.”

“I guess.”

As they began to walk again, he said, “Think we could find our way back to that playground?”

“Don’t you think that’s pushing our luck?”

“Not for sex. Yeah, that’d be pushing it. But I left a used condom on that bridge. Don’t want some kid to find it tomorrow morning.”

“Good thinking.”

“You’ll have to stand guard, though. Warn me if the cops come back.”

She snickered. “A different role for me. Keeping us from getting arrested.”

Suzanne woke late on Sunday, her body aching in numerous spots. From too much sex? No, there couldn’t be too much sex, not with Jaxon Navarre.

What a great name.

Had he overheard hers too? If so, he could look her up in the phone book.

But he wouldn’t. It would go against the Rules they’d agreed on.

She eased out of bed and into the shower. As she soaped herself gingerly, she pondered the past two nights. Amazing sex, but all of it in the “quick and dirty” category. Never once had they made love in a bed—or even a comfortable setting—and taken their time about it.

And, if she was going to be accurate, making love was hardly the correct term.

She and Jaxon had committed to a sexual encounter, an erotic escapade. As Tina Turner had sung, “What’s love got to do with it?”

Nothing, in this case, obviously. You couldn’t fall in love with a person until you knew them really, really well. As more than just a fantastic lover. Which wasn’t going to happen with her and Jaxon, because that was not what either of them wanted.

Suzanne ran the bath sponge down the curve of her hip and remembered the feel of his hand tracing that same line. Then she thought of his face, animated, as they talked across the table at Maria’s. Yes, they’d avoided personal subjects, but even so she was getting to know him. Jaxon was the kind of guy who’d drive his arthritic Cretan landlady to visit her husband’s grave, to save her the painful walk. And he hadn’t said it as if he was trying to score points. It was just one of several vignettes he’d shared as they reminisced about their experiences in Greece. Her heart had given a mushy flip-flop when he’d told her the story.

He was a man who’d give an overworked waiter a sympathetic smile rather than a sharp word when he had to remind the guy they wanted more coffee.

A man who’d go out of his way to retrieve a condom, so a child wouldn’t discover it.

A man who even tried to understand and explain why the police had jumped to those horrible conclusions. He was a good guy. Those small actions made her believe it. And that was reassuring if they were going to continue their relationship.

Relationship? Another questionable term. It implied emotion. Yet they were definitely more than acquaintances. Or were they? Maybe she should consider them acquaintances who had sex.

But that sounded so cold. When they had sex, she felt a true sense of closeness, much more than with the couple of other lovers she’d had, even though she’d known those men much better. With Jaxon, there was a feeling of intimacy. Intimacy? Suzanne snorted and tossed away the bath sponge. Good grief, they’d had great sex. That was what she’d wanted, and what she got, and maybe would have again in the future.