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don’t yell.”
    “Okay, growl. Lip-synch, something. Just talk. Say something, anything.”
    “Why?” Starting the car, he pulled out of the parking area.
    “Because I want to get to know you. Partners should know something about each other and I really don’t know anything about you, other than what I’ve heard and the fact that if these were Roman times, your scowl would put Zeus to shame.”
    He came to a stop at a red light. “Jupiter.”
    “What?”
    The light turned green again and he stepped on the accelerator. “Zeus was a Greek god, Jupiter was the Roman equivalent.”
    So he knew something beyond police procedure. He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who knew mythology. “Impressive. I’ll still go with Zeus. You look more like a Greek god than a Roman god anyway.”
    She was flirting with him, he thought, but when he shot her a look, McKenna’s expression was totally guileless. Was she putting him on? Didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to last long enough for that to become a problem.
    “You were damn lucky today that things turned out the way they did and no one was hurt. Next time, you might not be so lucky.”
    “I’ve always been pretty lucky.” His profile hardened even more. “Hey, don’t underestimate the part luck plays when it comes to our line of work.” She thought of the wound that had put her out of commission for a month a couple of years back. She’d kept that bit of information from her father. The man had enough on his mind. Thinking of it, she patted the region several inches below her shoulder. “Two inches to the left and this scar might have been the last one I ever got instead of just one of many.”
    “Scars? You’re talking about scars?” What kind of a woman was she? As far as he knew, women didn’t exactly go out of their way to draw attention to something that was considered to be a blemish.
    “Sure. Don’t you have any?”
    “I have enough.”
    “Where?” she asked innocently.
    “Out of the light of day.”
    For just the slightest second, she caught herself wondering just where on his very hard anatomy those scars were located. The next moment, she roused herself, hauling her mind back into focus. “Then you know what I’m talking about. About luck, I mean.”
    Turning right, he shook his head. “Mary Margaret, I’m beginning to think I don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about most of the time.”
    She wished he wouldn’t use her name, but she knew if she said anything, he would only do it more often. “The subject is luck. The visual aids are scars.” Grabbing her jacket and blouse, she undid some buttons and pulled both articles back. “Like this one.”
    Patrick glanced in her direction and almost forgot to look back at the road. He’d only caught a glimpse, but that provided more than enough fodder. He swerved to avoid rear-ending the car in front of him.
    “Damn it, Mary Margaret, you always go exposing your breasts to people you hardly know?”
    All she’d shown him was a little more skin than had already been evident. “It’s called cleavage and I’m not exposing myself, I’m showing you a scar that’s well above the bad-taste line. If I was into exposing, there are other scars I could show you.”
    Patrick didn’t have to look at her to know she was grinning. He heard it in her voice. He was about to ask her just where on her anatomy they were situated, but he didn’t need to go there. The interior of the car was warm enough as it was.
    Maggi moved the fabric back into place. “Anyway, my point is that luck has everything to do with it. And I’ve been luckier than most.”
    She not only had hair like a Barbie doll, but the intelligence of one as well, Patrick thought darkly.
    “Luck has a nasty habit of running out when you least expect it.”
    “God, but you are Mr. Sunshine, aren’t you?”
    “Sunshine was never my department.” This time, he took on the yellow light, making it through the intersection