Seducing McCoy: An Anthology (Harlequin Signature Select: Mini Series) - Softcover

"YOU'RE LATE."

David McCoy slid onto a stool next to his brother Connor and shrugged out of his sheepskin coat. He glanced at his bulky black sports watch as he rubbed his hands together to warm them. It was cold even for December in D.C., the kind of cold that inspired the saying, "it's too cold to snow." But the bar was pleasantly warm and decked out festively for the holiday season. Green garland laced with red lights hung behind the counter, and hurricane candle centerpieces were placed on tables around the room. He motioned for Joe, the bartender at The Pour House, to bring him a brew when he finished serving a guy down the long length of the oak bar. "Yeah. Lieutenant Kowalsky wanted to have a few words after I knocked off tonight." He greeted a couple of fellow officers taking their seats a few stools down. "Looks like I get a new partner tomorrow."

Connor knocked back what remained in his own glass. "Should be interesting."

"Yeah." David paid Joe and made a comment on the busyness of the place this early on a Thursday night. Joe shrugged and told him whatever paid the bills.

"What will this be? The third?" Connor asked as Joe took an order down the bar.

David grimaced at his older brother. Connor knew how many partners he'd gone through. He could probably recite their names, and exactly how long it had taken David to scare them off. Connor was good that way. Always the one to remember when one of them had gotten the measles, when their homework had been due and which forms he had to forge so they could participate in school-sponsored road trips. Mostly, his diligence was welcome. There were times, however, when he wished Connor would get a life — preferably, his own.

He had the sinking sensation this was going to be one of those times.

He drank more of his beer than he intended and gritted his teeth at the onset of a cold headache. Of course, in the case of his last partner, Lupe Ramirez, he hadn't exactly scared her off. In fact, she'd very nearly been killed off. A perp at a twenty-four hour convenience store had taken a potshot at her while he'd been making his way around the back. Lupe was still in rehab, learning how to walk on her reconstructed knee.

"At least the odds are against me getting another female," he said.

Connor grinned. "You sure about that? If Ramirez filled some sort of gender quota, odds are probably in favor of you getting just that."

David shook his head adamantly. "No...Kowalsky might not like me very much, but he wouldn't do that to me again. Uh-uh."

His brother shrugged. "No skin off my nose who you work with or don't. I'm just pointing out the possibilities."

"And I'm telling you the possibility isn't even remote, not even slim. In fact, the possibility is so remote, it's an impossibility."

Connor's grin grew wider. "What?"

His brother shook his head. "Did I say anything?"

"No.You didn't have to. That stupid grin of yours says it all." David sat up and straightened his denim shirt. "Anyway, at least I do know my partner isn't fresh from the academy. He's a transfer from outside. And no matter what you say, he will be a he. I've done my duty as far as equality between the sexes goes. Is it too much to ask to be assigned a guy this time around?"

Connor seemed exceedingly interested in the bottles lining the wall behind the bar and took a slow sip of his beer, his grin apparently making it difficult.

David couldn't resist. He slapped his hand against his older brother's back, nearly causing him to spew the contents of his mouth all over Joe, who now stood before them putting together a purple concoction on the other side of the counter.

"So tell me, Con, what's the deal with you? Why did you want to meet here?" He held his hand up. "Wait, don't tell me, you're getting married, too, aren't you?"

Connor's expression grew darker with each question until he looked a word away from knocking David from his stool.

David held up his hands. "Hey, don't look at me that way. You're the one who called me, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember, all right. Though I'm having a hard time recalling why." He visibly winced. "Married? What on God's green earth would make you ask that?"

For some reason David had never tried to decipher, he'd always loved getting under Connor's skin. Maybe because it was so easy. Or perhaps because it was so much fun to watch Connor go from self-righteous know-it-all to a put-up-your-dukes teen in a blink of an eye. Pops had warned him that one day he'd take his banter a little too far and find himself knocked into the middle of next week. But somehow David had always known Connor would never lay a fist on him.

And, for other reasons he preferred not to pursue, he suspected it was why he'd always felt slightly separate and apart from his brothers. Too young to participate in all the older McCoy guys' reindeer games. The one to be sent to his room when discussions grew serious. Hell, he didn't even look like them, what with having blond hair and being a tad bit shorter than them all at five foot ten. And he didn't even have the benefit of a red, glowing nose so he could prove to them that he was up to the task of leading them through a foggy night — or any task, for that matter.

He shrugged. "Why not marriage? Seems like everyone else is getting hitched these days. Why should you be any different?" He knew the quickest route to pissing Connor off was mentioning him and marriage in the same breath, and he'd done it not once, but twice. His brother had been miserable during Thanksgiving dinner at the McCoy house three weeks ago. Grumbled comments ranging from "all these damn women running around the place" to "you've all turned into a bunch of wusses" encompassed the whole of Connor's contributions to any ongoing conversation.

David braced himself for another Connorism as his brother scowled. "What was it you said to Mel when she asked when you were going to settle down? When Satan takes up snow skiing?"

Connor's grin made a comeback. "Yeah. Well, that's about the time I get anywhere near an altar, too."

David leisurely watched a woman in tight jeans walk by, then turned back toward his beer and his brother. "So why did you call then?"

"Does there have to be a reason?"

He watched the way Connor shifted on his stool. Yeah, he'd say his brother had something on his mind, something heavy.

"With you, uh-huh. There definitely has to be a reason." He took a long pull from his own bottle. "Come on, Con, just spill it, will you? You've never been the kind of guy for a boys' night out drinking. Actually, you were always telling the rest of us when it was time to lay off the stuff. So what gives?"

Connor grimaced. "I don't know. It's just this thing with Pops...."

David waited for him to continue...and waited...and waited. "Man, you're about as talkative as Jake tonight. You know, if you really want this to begin resembling a conversation, you're going to have to start with finishing your sentences. I'm no mind reader."

Connor leaned back and released a long-suffering sigh. "Look, this isn't easy for me, you know? You guys are usually the ones coming to me for advice."

"Yeah, it must really eat you that you're stuck with me." Connor looked at him, a question in his blue-green eyes.

"Is that what you think?"

David was the one who shifted in his seat this time. "Come on, Con, quit pussyfooting around and get to the point already, will you?"

"It's just...aw, hell, David, do you think I did the right thing with Pops? You know, telling him I didn't approve of his going out with Melanie's mother?"

David remembered the incident at the cemetery. His brows shot up. "Didn't approve? You practically told the old man you'd disown him if he didn't stop seeing Wilhemenia." He motioned for Joe to bring Connor a fresh bottle. "Have you two even spoken a civil word to each other since then?"

His brother looked away. "You haven't, have you?" He rubbed his chin, thinking of the times the family had gathered together over the past couple months. He couldn't come up with a single time when he'd seen Connor and Pops talk to each other. Oh, yeah, Connor may have mumbled a jab or two under his breath, but he'd never directly spoken to their father. "Out of all of us, you were always the closest to Pops. I don't know if it's an age thing..." Connor gave him a glowering look. "Sorry. What I'm trying to say is that if two men ever understood each other, it was you and Pops."

"Yeah, well, I guess this Wilhemenia stuff really got to me, you know? Thanks." He grabbed the bottle Joe put in front of him. "Of all the women Pops could have chosen, why did it have to be that sourpuss excuse for a human being?"

David's burst of laughter died down. He thoughtfully rolled his beer bottle between his palms. "I don't know what you're looking for here, Connor, but if it's reinforcements, you're looking in the wrong place. I, for one, don't happen to see anything wrong with Pops getting a little —"

Connor whipped up his hand to stop him. "Don't. What I'm interested in finding out is how you would feel about him...well, actually bringing her into the family."

David thought that if his eyes had widened any farther, his eyeballs would have splashed into the bottle he was just about to press to his lips. "You mean, like marry her?"

A shadow of a smile played around Connor's mouth. "See, it bothers you, too."

David put his bottle down on the bar. "I wouldn't say that, exactly."

"So what would you say...exactly?"

"I...I don't know." He looked at his brother. "Do you think it's that serious?"

Connor sighed. "I don't know. Right now, no. I think after...our little talk, Pops did stop seeing her. But it's only natural to think that he was serious about her. I mean, it's not like Pops has ever dated before."

David frowned. "Wait a minute here. If he's not seeing her anymore, then what in the hell are you worried about?"

Connor fell silent, staring at his bottle as if a genie would appear any moment and supply him with the answer. "It's just that...I don't know. Pops looks so..."

"Miserable?" David grinned at Connor's quick glare. "Hey, I'm capable of noticing some things, too. And Pops is definitely miserable."

"Yeah, well, he'll get over it."

"If that's how you really feel, then why are we talking about it?"

Connor looked at him as if he was surprised by the realization. "I don't know."

A wink of neon pink distracted David. He turned to watch the tantalizing back of a woman walking toward the pool tables. The pink of her top clung to slender shoulders and a narrow waist before giving way to form-fitting black slacks designed to drive a man wild. She met another woman, then picked up a pool stick, flicking her silky blond, shoulder-length hair over a sculpted shoulder. David got a good look at her face. Heart-shaped. Large green eyes. A bow-shaped pink, pink mouth. Everything about her seemed delicate in some way. Utterly, totally feminine. Innocent. So unlike most of the women he typically dated.

His gaze drifted lower. Whoa. There was nothing innocent about the way that top fit. The curve-hugging material outlined her breasts perfectly, and hid very little — like the fact that she was either cold or tuned in and turned on by his slow visual examination.

He groaned deep in his throat. He managed to croak out a response to Connor. "Yeah, well, you might want to try figuring out the answer to that question before you go on to the next." His gaze again strayed to the pool table.

Damn, but she's more woman than any two men could handle, David thought as she returned his measuring gaze. A smile turned up the sides of her mouth and he came close to letting loose a long, appreciative whistle. Despite the fact that they were in a cop bar, there was no way this woman was one. Nor was she a cop groupie like the table of women nearby who consistently went to cop bars pretending to be out for nothing more than a good time, but were really angling for a wedding ring.

No. This woman was neither. She probably did some-thing...womanly. Sold wedding dresses, worked in an antique shop, sold perfume at an upscale department store. She probably wouldn't know how to hold a gun, much less fire one. The thought was altogether appealing. Especially since he didn't plan to repeat the mistake of sleeping with someone on the force again.

He cleared his throat, then slanted a loaded gaze his brother's way. "Speaking of the weather, I think I just heard that Hell's forecast calls for a blizzard." He pushed from his stool as if compelled by a force greater than himself. "I just spotted me the woman I'm gonna marry."

"Who was talking about the..." Connor's spine snapped military straight as he apparently realized what was going on. "Aw, hell, David, I didn't come over here to watch you play Casanova."

"You can have the friend," he said, straightening his shoulders.

"Gee thanks, but no thanks."