Sawyer Lopez, on the other hand, had no such hang-ups, and was in full charm mode.
“So where you ladies visiting from?” Lopez asked, handing the girls back their phones.
Luc took another sip of his increasingly cold coffee and rolled his eyes. At least someone was profiting from Luc’s brush with fame.
“Little Rock,” the taller blonde said, her fingers moving rapidly over the screen of her phone.
Luc had no doubt that his face had just been plastered all over every possible social media site. Again.
“Ah, that explains the cute southern accent,” Lopez told the woman with a wink.
Uh huh. It also explained what the women were doing wandering around Times Square—a place no New Yorker would be caught dead in unless someone paid them to be there.
In Luc and Lopez’s case, that someone doing the paying was the NYPD.
Crowd control in midtown wasn’t exactly the sexy part of being a New York cop, but it was a necessary one, especially on days where the latest teen pop star was giving a concert at 47th and Broadway.
Times Square was every cop’s least favorite gig. But when there was a concert, parade, or holiday, it was all hands on deck.
“How long you here for?” Lopez asked, still trying to get the women to notice that he was giving them his best smile. They barely responded, still busy on their phones, and Luc nearly grinned at the irritation on his partner’s face.
A month ago, Sawyer Lopez could have gotten the attention of just about any woman he wanted. With the dark skin and jet-black hair of his Latino father, and the pale blue eyes of a Norwegian mother, he was never short on female company.
Then Luc had become an overnight sensation, and now Lopez had to work twice as hard for his share of female attention. Luc would be gloating if the whole situation hadn’t been so damned annoying.
“Excuse me, Officer, could you help us for a second? We’re trying to find the Hilton—”
Luc turned to the tired-looking couple dragging around enormous suitcases and a cranky-looking toddler. Their expressions were more exhausted than star-struck, and he smiled when he realized they didn’t recognize him.
He’d nearly forgotten how good it felt to be anonymous.
By the time Luc pointed the tourists to their hotel, his partner had finally managed to recapture the blondes’ attention.
“Oh God, no,” Lopez was saying. “Listen, you want real New York pizza, you’re going to walk a bit. I’d recommend—”
Ah, shit. Once Lopez got started talking about pizza, he could go on for hours.
And since Lopez only shared his “pizza secrets” when he was trying to get laid, experience told Luc he was on the verge of being roped into a double date with a couple of Arkansas tourists.
“Lopez. Let’s move out,” Luc snapped.
The two women blinked in surprise at Luc’s sharp tone, and he felt a sting of regret for being a complete and utter dick.
He used to be good around women. Back when women had liked him for him. Back when he’d been just regular Luc, not Super Cop Moretti.
But then everything had changed. Thanks to a couple of tourists with camera phones and impeccable timing, Luc’s life had become a damned carnival.
Luc gave a slow smile to soften the blow of his irritation. “Sorry, ladies. Duty calls.”
His partner grunted something that sounded like horseshit.
Lopez had a point. Luc’s excuse was a load of BS. The only duty they had at the moment was making sure Broadway didn’t turn into a stampede.
But the women nodded in wide-eyed understanding at Luc. “New York’s so lucky to have a cop like you.”
Luc heard the words like a jab to the jugular, although he forced himself to smile through the wave of darkness that rushed over him. These women didn’t have a clue just how undeserving of praise he was. Nobody did.
Pushing the haunting thoughts away before they could fully take hold, he gave the women a wide smile before dragging his partner away.