Free Two Sides to Every Story (Love Spectrum Romance) by Dyanne Davis

grinned.
    “I’m just trying to figure out what will be a safe topic.”
    “I think you know what isn’t. Just stay away from those and let’s see what happens.”
    “What are we going to do for food?” he asked.
    “We’ll eat.”
    “You don’t have any food in your kitchen.”
    “I do.”
    “You call those diet dinners in your freezer food? There’s no ice cream or cookies and there’s no meat. I want some food.” Raphael pounded his fists on his chest playfully. “I need to eat.”
    She grinned at him. “I have some protein bars.”
    “Yuck.”
    “You like eating, don’t you? How do you manage to stay so,” she licked her lips, “so fit?”
    “I exercise,” he replied, grinning. “I’m a cop. I keep busy.” He caught a flash of her biting her lips.
    “Sorry, Angel, I know you don’t want to hear about my job but can you tell me about yours? What are you, a reporter, freelance writer, what?”
    “What made you think writer?”
    “You’re always at your computer writing and I don’t see you rushing off to work in the mornings. So I know you work from home.”
    “Brilliant deduction.”
    “No deduction—” He caught her gaze and stopped. She didn’t want to hear anything dealing with him being a police office. But surely she had to know as a cop he would notice these things.
    “Mostly I’m a technical writer.”
    “What exactly do you do?”
    “Anything that pays the bills.”
    “Anything?”
    “Anything that has to do with writing,” she amended.
    “So go ahead and tell me exactly what a technical writer does.”
    “It’s pretty boring stuff really. I can guarantee you won’t find it interesting.”
    “Try me. I find…” He stopped himself from saying that he was beginning to find everything about her interesting. “I find writers very interesting.”
    “I write the words that describe the food in the restaurant menus. I write the copy for lots of ad agencies.” She stopped, looked at him and grinned. “I even do a horoscope and advice column.”
    “I thought you didn’t believe in fortune telling.”
    “I don’t. I just told you I write that stuff; it’s malarkey. How am I supposed to believe something that someone just like me made up while sitting in their kitchen chair in their bathrobe munching on toast and drinking coffee?”
    “Do you make it all up?”
    “Yes.”
    “You never consult a book or anything?”
    “Maybe sometimes, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’s all for fun.”
    “Tell me about your advice column. Are you famous?”
    “I wish.”
    “Seriously, Angel, would I have heard of it?”
    “I don’t think so. It’s one of those free papers, a giveaway. I write an advice column for them and I get a steady paycheck. No big deal.”
    “Was that your goal, to write an advice column, tell people how to run their lives?”
    Angela stopped and thought over what he was asking her. It had been a long time since she’d thought what her goal really was. For the past two years it had only been about freeing her brother, finding a way to make the cops pay.
    Sure, maybe one day she would think seriously about some kind of career in writing that was more uncertain, but right now she needed money. She didn’t have time to write for years and sit out the wave of inevitable rejections, hoping and praying to make a sale, then hoping and praying to get paid. No, what she did paid nicely, and she got to do it on her own terms. Her job was stable and for now she cherished the stability.
    “I make good money doing what I do,” she said to Rafe through clenched teeth.
    “I wasn’t criticizing you. I think it’s very cool that you get to stay at home and work, yet make money. I wouldn’t mind if I could do that.”
    “Are you saying you would give up being a cop?”
    Raphael grinned. “No, I guess not. I’ve always wanted to be a policeman.” He tilted his head and gazed at Angela. “Actually the word cop denotes something else. I dreamed of being a