Part 8 (2/2)

She was the first to turn and acknowledge him. ”Are you the tenant, Ma'am?” she asked in a manner more convincing than he expected. She definitely knew how to play the part. But why was she acting as though she didn't know him? Maybe her shame of their shared apartment building kept her from revealing where he lived.

”Uh, yes. Can you tell me what happened here?” He played along.

”Most likely just a routine burglary. One of your neighbors noticed the door open and called us.”

Alex tried to think how a woman would react. He lightly smacked his palm against his cheek. ”Oh, my!”

Two of the officers brushed past him and left, leaving only Cynthia and Mike. ”We'll need you to go through and note anything that may have been taken so we can file our report.” Cyn carried on the charade, but gave him a warning look. Her tone was very professional.

”Oh, yes, sir, officer. I certainly will, officer, sir. I hope they didn't get all my diamonds.” He meandered into the bedroom.

Cynthia followed, leaving Mike in the living room. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he stayed. ”Stop acting like an idiot,” she whispered. ”I don't talk like that.”

”Like what?”

”Like a dim-witted southern belle,” she said, motioning for him to lower his voice.

”Sorry,” he complied. ”I was just trying to be sweet and feminine.”

Mike stuck his head around the corner. ”Anything missing?”

Startled, Cynthia instantly went back to making notes on her clipboard, while Alex continued with his mock search of Cynthia's belongings. He turned and purposely cast a sweet smile in Mike's direction. ”Nothing that I see, Officer.”

Alex turned back just in time to see Cynthia roll her eyes.

He hadn't realized how much he missed working with Mike. What would he think if he knew his current partner was really a woman trapped in a man's body? It was a sure bet he wouldn't believe it. He wasn't sure he did.

To further annoy Cynthia, he brazenly batted his eyelashes at Mike, poured on the sugar. ”But, can I call you if I do discover something is missing?”

Just as Alex expected, his partner reacted to Cynthia's shapely body and pretty face. He might be married, but he wasn't dead. A silly grin formed on his face. ”Why, sure you can.” Oozing charm, he straightened his tie. ”I'll give you my card.”

Alex wanted to kick Mike in the a.s.s. If his wife could only see him now, she'd give him more than a card.

”Oh, darn. I notice you have a great big ol' wedding ring on your finger.” Reverting back to his southern-belle accent, Alex gave his partner a gentle reminder, enjoying the opportunity to take the wind out of Mike's sails.

Alex returned his gaze to Cynthia. It was her turn. She deserved something for buying such c.r.a.ppy shoes.

”You know, Officer, I'm sure this was all my fault. If I'd just listened to my friend and had my deadbolt fixed this wouldn't have happened.” He purposely emphasized key words.

If looks could kill, he would have dropped on the spot. He'd pushed things a little too far.

Her jaw visibly tightened. ”Sounds like you have a very intelligent friend. You'd better listen and take care of that right away.”

Now he'd cooked his own goose. He'd had his fun but Cynthia was going to be p.i.s.sed when she got off duty, and he'd have to hear all about it.

As Cynthia and Mike walked out the door, Mike b.u.mped into the building super and almost bowled him over. He grabbed the handyman's arm and kept him upright. ”Wow, excuse me, sir. I didn't see you.”

The super's eyes turned wide and he stiffened. ”It's okay,” he mumbled. ”No harm. I was just making a service call down the hall.” He hurried away.

Cynthia turned to her partner. ”Service call? Right! I live in this building and believe me, there is no service.”

She wanted to slap herself for revealing too much.

”Where you live is no secret. Your address is on file, remember?” He scanned the corridor walls and the outdated tiles on the floor. It's not the Ritz is it?” Mike smiled.

”Far from it.”

”Do tell...what apartment does your little filly live in? If she's better looking than the babe we just left, I wanna see her.”

Cynthia steered Mike toward the stairs. ”Never you mind. We're done here.”

Chapter Nine.

The annoying alarm sounded. Alex awoke with a terrible stomachache. Not the start to the day he had hoped for since he spent all evening helping Cynthia clean up the mess from the break-in and listening to her berate his actions. Hopefully, the crime had been the act of a random burglar. He'd worried all night it might have been more, but his concern at the moment was this awful pain. He grasped his belly as the aching intensified.

Forcing himself out of bed, he stumbled to the bathroom. When he used the toilet tissue, a crimson stain caught his attention. ”Oh, my G.o.d, what's wrong?”

Despite his heart climbing into his throat, he managed to draw in a deep breath. The cause of the blood dawned on him, he was having a period. ”Oh for Christ's sake, I don't believe this.” He looked upward. ”Why do you hate me?”

Luckily, he wasn't totally ignorant. After all, he'd lived with a woman before, and there was absolutely nothing that wasn't advertised on TV these days. Nothing was sacred. How many times had he been forced to watch tampon commercials and other feminine hygiene products?

Rummaging under the sink, he searched for whatever it was Cynthia used during her monthly. He found the very item he'd seen advertised so often. Pulling a cylinder from the box, he grimaced and began reading the instructions on the back of the carton.

He squinted at the small print. ”Warning: Do not insert cardboard cylinder.” That seemed rather obvious to him, but then hairdryers came with warnings not to use them in the bathtub or shower. Obviously there were some ignorant people in the world.

But ... what the h.e.l.l did he do with the string? He dangled the tampon in the air and studied it for a moment, then following the diagram, he propped one foot on the closed toilet lid, but hesitated. ”I can't do this.” How did a woman...especially one with long talons?

Reality gave him a stern reminder. Using the tampon was a necessary evil given his situation. With clenched teeth and squinted eyes, he probed for an opening and inserted the cotton torpedo, leaving the string dangling for removal. A queasy feeling seized him, and he plopped down on the commode. This was the last time he was going through this torture. He had to find a way to get back into his own skin and the comfort he missed so much.

Cynthia stopped by on her way to work and found Alex, still clad in a bathrobe and, curled in a fetal position on the couch. She arched a brow at him. ”Why aren't you ready to go?”

He glared up at her. ”You started your period. My stomach is killing me.”

”Oh, is that all?” She clucked her tongue against her teeth. ”It's called cramps. Now you know what it feels like. Get up and get dressed.”

He adjusted his position and closed his eyes. ”I'd prefer not to. I think I'm dying.”

She bent over and shoved her face close to his. ”No one ever died of cramps. Get up!”

”I can't,” he whined.

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