She Can Tell

by Melinda Leigh

  “Looks like.”

  Mike gave the dog a scratch behind his ears. Bandit wagged his tail, then sniffed his way toward the big tree in the center of her back lawn. He lifted a hind leg.

  Rachel kept one eye on the dog, but her other eye was busy watching Mike stretch his shoulders. Just because she couldn’t get involved with him didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the show. No uniform this morning. Instead, a navy blue T-shirt outlined the heavy muscles of his broad shoulders and chest. He rubbed the back of his neck and winced as if it were stiff.

  “Have you been here all night?”

  A flush spread across his stubbled jaw as he looked away, avoiding both her question and her gaze. “I was concerned about your house’s lack of security.”

  So, despite his irritation with her last night, he was worried about her. Rachel’s heart thudded. “So, you slept in my driveway?”

  He lifted the mug to his lips and drank, no doubt stalling while he tried to formulate an appropriate answer. The police chief was a careful man who gave his words as much thought as his actions. Unlike Rachel, he was not prone to acting on impulse and regretting it later. A moment passed before he met her eyes, the resignation in his face a sign that he couldn’t think of a way to evade her question. “Well, I wasn’t here all night, and I didn’t actually sleep.”

  “That wasn’t necessary.” Although maybe if she’d known he was here, acting as sentinel, the boogeyman wouldn’t have popped by for a visit. She eyeballed his bulging muscles. He certainly looked…hot? Ack, no. Capable. Keep it professional. The cop’s hotness was not in question. Because it was indisputable? This mental discussion was not going the way she wanted. God, she needed more caffeine. “But thank you.”

  “Thanks for the coffee.” Shadows rimmed his eyes from two nights with little rest, two nights of sleep he’d lost protecting her and her family. A heavy sigh purred through his wide chest as he swallowed.

  “It’s the least I could do.”

  He leaned closer. A flash of desire cut through the exhaustion in those beautiful eyes. Rachel felt her own body being pulled in as their gazes met. Warmth rushed south. Whoa, Nellie. He smelled good.

  His gaze dropped to her lips. If she moved just a few inches forward, he’d kiss her. Then she could press her whole body against all that brawn. He’d wrap those beefy arms around her. Those big hands were as gentle as they were strong. She’d feel more than blazing sexual contact. She’d feel safe—and she’d be tempted to stay there. She ripped her focus away. Barely.

  Displeasure flashed on his face before he pulled back and pokered up.

  He stirred up too many feelings inside her for a fling. Plus, those eyes were just too serious. Mike wasn’t a one-nighter kind of guy, and Rachel was not up to another relationship. Especially with a man who couldn’t make up his mind. Granted, she fully realized she was a giant pain in the ass and could easily drive the bravest of men far away, but still. Last night he’d been all annoyed and distant, and this morning he was ready to kiss her. What was up with that?

  Rachel turned toward the barn. The horses needed to be fed. No time to deal with the hot cop. She whistled for Bandit. The little dog trotted to her side, then raced ahead. “You should go home, He-Man. Even superheroes need sleep.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and was rewarded by a sexy smile. She looked away as her face heated. A few other body parts got on board.

  Behind her, his engine started, and she heard his vehicle bouncing down her disaster of a driveway. She lifted her chin. Her gaze locked on the barn, and her jaw dropped. Black tarpaulin covered every inch of graffiti. The cop hadn’t just sat in her drive all night. He’d saved her hours of work this morning.

  She was in big, big trouble. Not only did He-Man make her girl parts hum, he made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. A few hot, sweaty bouts of sex she could handle, but Rachel did not do warm and fuzzy. It just wasn’t worth the risk. Generally, people let her down when she needed them the most.

  A jingling sound snapped her out of her musing. Bandit streaked out from behind the garage. Dirt covered his forelegs, and a muddy, dead rabbit dangled from his muzzle.

  “Bandit!” Rachel started to sprint after him. The dog lowered his chest to the ground. Butt in the air, his feathery tail swept back and forth in a come-and-get-me wag.

  “Bandit, be a good boy.” Rachel skidded to a stop and inched toward the dog slowly. “Drop it. I’ll give you a treat.”

  Enjoying the game, Bandit pranced backward a few feet.

  “Come on, boy,” Rachel said in a low, quiet voice. She stepped forward. The dog shot off around the barn, ears flapping and short legs churning in a brown blur. Rachel darted after him, trying to cut him off by looping around the other side of the building, but Bandit proved too quick to be caught. He faked a left and tore off in the opposite direction. Rachel circled. She hid behind the door and waited. Bandit sensed her presence, gave her a wide berth, and zoomed joyfully around the barnyard. Rachel stopped, hands on hips, and blew out a hard breath.

  This was ridiculous. She had zero chance of catching the little bugger.

  Hoping he’d get bored, she went to work. Friendly nickers and snorts greeted her as she entered the barn. She stopped at Lady’s stall and slipped a carrot from her pocket. The mare crunched placidly while Rachel stroked her neck.

  Keeping one eye on the exit, she flipped on the lights and started measuring grain. Bandit’s head, complete with dangling, decaying animal, peeked around the door frame. Rachel ignored him. He set the rabbit down and woofed. She moved from stall to stall dumping grain into feed buckets. Every time she passed within a couple of feet of him, he snatched the body and danced away. By the time she’d finished feeding the horses, the little dog lay in a dejected heap next to his disgusting prize. She walked past him out the door. Dog tags jingled at her heels. She glanced down. Empty mouthed, the dog trotted at her side. Could a dog look disappointed?

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Rachel made a quick grab for his collar on the stoop. There wasn’t a square inch of fur that wasn’t dripping with mud. She tied him to the tree. “You’re a mess. And no way am I letting you lick any faces until I brush your teeth.”

  He looked up at her. His ears drooped, and he made full use of his sad spaniel eyes.

  “But I promise we’ll have a game of fetch later.” Rachel patted him on the head and put bathe Bandit on her to-do list. And she’d have to rebury the rabbit before the girls saw it. In a much deeper hole.

  With a carefully schooled expression, Mike crossed the tiled lobby of the small county courthouse. Inside, anger was burning a hole through his gut. He turned down the hallway that led to the rear parking lot only to see Rachel Parker pacing outside the Family Court Administration Office.

  Yowza.

  Her usual uniform of worn jeans and ponytail were sexy enough, but since their dawn encounter, she’d changed into a slim skirt, a cotton blouse, and low heels. Mike’s gaze dropped to her bare legs. Big mistake. They were as tight and toned as he’d suspected. He reluctantly lifted his eyes to her face. She’d downsized the Band-Aid on her cheek, and the bruise under it was faint. And her mouth… Her lips looked soft and ripe and tasty.

  Her brows lifted and a slight smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. “Do I clean up OK?”

  Mike blinked and cleared his throat. “Er, how did it go? Did she get the temporary order?”

  “Don’t know yet. She’s been in there awhile. She wanted to do this solo.” Rachel raised her chin as if she were proud of that. “I assume he’s out on bail?”

  “Troy was released on his own recognizance.”

  Rachel’s jaw tightened. The humor slid from her face.

  “No history of violence, close ties to the community, etcetera,” Mike said, disturbed that he had to work to keep his voice level. Yeah, he was annoyed with the judge, but he never had trouble with emotional control. Ever. Until he’d met Rachel.

  “Damn. I don’t know why this i
s a surprise. I should’ve counted on Vince to play dirty.” She scowled, and the temper that lit her eyes made her sexier. What was wrong with him?

  “He has to join Alcoholics Anonymous, attend twice-weekly meetings, and generally keep his nose clean until the next hearing.”

  Rachel’s disgusted snort echoed Mike’s opinion. The conditions were simply a cover-your-ass move for the judge so it didn’t look like he was just letting the scumbag go to please an old crony friend, which was exactly what he was doing.

  Rachel chewed her lip in silence. Mike searched her face. Something about her totally threw him off. He’d spent half the night stapling tarps over the graffiti on her barn. Had to be a reason. Was it the way emotion played so transparently across her face? She was incapable of deception. Or the way her dark hair fell in loose, shining waves around her shoulders? It smelled like…He leaned a little closer. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t back down. No, she would never back down. Her eyes blazed with that sexy fire. Mike inhaled. Lemons. She smelled like lemons, all fresh and clean. The scent of her hair made him think of other body parts he’d like to sniff.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall behind Mike. He turned his head. Vince Mitchell was coming down the hall, his trophy wife hanging off his arm. In her sky-high heels, the beautiful young woman on his arm was taller than her wiry, gray-haired husband. Tanya Mitchell had restrained her long platinum blond hair in a conservative bun, but her suit was too tight for her to pull off the suburban wife image. With overly enhanced breasts straining the buttons of her silk blouse, the pearls and pumps getup made her look like Donna Reed’s slutty alter ego. Her heavy makeup contrasted with Rachel’s clean, fresh face.

  Vince guided Tanya past. One arm slid around his wife’s body. His hand gave her hip a possessive squeeze, but his beady eyes darted back and forth between Mike and Rachel. Mike realized too late that he was standing closer to her than professional interest would dictate. Hell, his face was only a few inches from her head. Yes, he’d actually sniffed her hair in the hallway of the municipal building—in full view of the town councilman who’d been trying to fire him for the past year.

  Suspicion lit Vince’s thin face. His mouth twisted in an evil, satisfied smile. Mike gritted his teeth. He’d known all along his interest in Rachel was going to come back and bite him on the ass. Now that Vince knew about it, it was only a matter of time.

  Rachel felt his withdrawal. Mike’s body was still close enough that she could smell his damned aftershave and feel the heat his body emanated. But his attention was riveted on the blond bimbo’s retreating butt. Yup. Vince’s wife had it all going on. Legs, butt, boobs, all Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue perfect. Oh well. Rachel couldn’t take it personally.

  Mike’s eyes closed as he moved a step away from her. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

  “Did what? Got an eyeful of Tayna’s booty?” Rachel patted his forearm. “Give yourself a break. Mightier men have fallen.”

  Mike’s brow creased. “No. It’s not that. I can’t believe Vince saw…that.” He motioned between them with one hand.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Yes.” He paced a few feet away and back. “You’re a key part of an active case. Professional ethics dictate that I cannot be involved with you.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment settled over Rachel like freezing drizzle. She pushed it away and lifted her chin. “I wasn’t aware that we were involved.”

  Mike pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Your face is getting all red,” Rachel said. “Have you had your blood pressure checked lately?”

  “I never did anything like this before I met you.” His voice was clipped, and his jaw muscles moved like he was grinding his teeth. “You’re distracting.”

  “Distracting?” Rachel felt her mouth gape. She was distracting. Women like Tanya were distracting. Not Rachel.

  “You destroy my objectivity.”

  “Gee, sorry.”

  Mike’s eyes blazed. “Nothing can happen between us.”

  “OK by me.” Rachel folded her arms across her chest. “You’re the one who’s having a stroke about it.”

  “Stroke?” he choked, eyes bulging.

  The door behind her opened, and Sarah walked out, her eyes bright behind the bruises.

  “Any problems?” Mike’s tone shifted back to super-polite.

  “No,” Sarah answered, then stared at Rachel and frowned. “Is everything all right?”

  “Fine.” Rachel forced a smile on the protesting muscles of her face. “All done?”

  Sarah nodded. “Yes. It wasn’t too bad. Troy can’t come near me or the girls until the hearing, which will be in ten days. I’ll need a lawyer for that.”

  “Already working on it.” Rachel pushed away from the wall and started down the hall. “Let’s talk about it at home.”

  “All right.” Sarah followed with a confused glance at Mike.

  Rachel tried to resist, but her eyes were pulled to him, damn them. Traitors.

  Thankfully, he was looking at Sarah. “If you have any trouble, don’t hesitate to call. Please don’t try to handle things on your own.” He shot Rachel a disapproving frown.

  Rachel embraced the dig and glared back. Anger welled, hot, familiar, and definitely preferable to self-pity. She pivoted on her heel. A few long strides later the door opened to the smack of her palm. A damp breeze cooled her face. Holding the door open, she waited for Sarah.

  “Thanks for everything, Chief O’Connell.” Sarah’s kitten heels tapped on the tile floor as she hurried to catch up.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Rachel didn’t look back as he responded. That deep voice was as devastating as his eyes. She let the door swing shut. In the parking lot, Rachel didn’t allow herself to run for the truck. Her sister was still walking stiffly and would have trouble keeping up. Plus, pride wouldn’t let her admit how much his snub had affected her. She slammed the door of the pickup harder than necessary and shoved the key into the ignition.

  Sarah eased her body into the passenger seat. “Is there something going on between you and Chief O’Connell?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure? Because he looks at you like you’re a juicy rib eye and he’s been eating vegan for a long time.”

  Rachel jerked the gearshift into drive. “That was your mother-in-law who had him drooling on the floor. He’s just perpetually pissed off at me.”

  “Really? That’s not the impression I had.” Sarah rested her head on the back of the seat. “Well, he’s out of luck there. Tanya isn’t leaving Vince, at least not as long as he’s still buying her everything she wants. She isn’t giving up the cash flow anytime soon. She’s not as dumb as she looks.”

  “She couldn’t be and still be able to dress herself.”

  “Rachel, that’s mean.” But Sarah laughed as she protested.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not as nice as you are.”

  Sarah flexed the fingers of her casted arm and winced. “I still think the police chief is interested in you.”

  “No way. I’m telling you he was staring at Tanya. Maybe there’s something going on between them. She wouldn’t have to leave Vince, you know. People cheat all the time.” As she well knew. Her throat clogged with the memory of Blake’s betrayal. No. She wasn’t going to dwell on the past. She’d rejected him, and he’d turned to someone else. End of story.

  With a deep, cleansing breath, Rachel turned onto Main Street. She depressed the gas pedal, and the pickup sputtered and then roared ahead. “I drive O’Connell crazy. I drive most people crazy, which is why I like being alone.”

  “That’s because you don’t let anyone see the real you.”

  Exactly. She’d briefly let her guard down with Blake, and look how that had turned out.

  Rachel stopped at the traffic light. “Enough about Mike already. There is nothing going on between us.”

  Sarah’s eyebrows shot up. “Mike? You’re on a first-name basis with the
police chief?”

  “I’m not talking about that anymore.” Rachel’s cheeks warmed. She glanced at her sister.

  Sarah was clearly biting back a grin. “Whatever.”

  Time for a change of subject. Though it was nice to see her sister’s long-forgotten sense of humor. “I’ve been thinking about something. What if this vandal guy isn’t out to get me? What if he’s out to get the farm? I never had any trouble until I moved there, and most of his efforts have been aimed at the business.”

  She’d been thinking about Mike’s questions. Frankly, she’d be thrilled if the threats weren’t a personal attack.

  Sarah frowned. “I don’t know. The place is a disaster. Except for your new barn, nothing else has been renovated since the fifties.”

  “I was thinking maybe there was something about the place we don’t know.”

  “What, you think there’s an oil field under the meadow?” Sarah started humming the Beverly Hillbillies theme.

  “Something like that. Though there aren’t many oil rigs in the Poconos.” Rachel laughed, and the tension in her chest loosened. “It was Chief O’Connell’s idea.”

  “Don’t you mean Mike?” Sarah teased. Her grin spread across her face. She cupped her bruised cheek. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts my face.”

  Rachel turned down a small side street. “We have some time before Mrs. Holloway brings the girls home from school, and the alarm guy isn’t coming until after lunch. Mind if I make a quick stop at the library?”

  Sarah stopped laughing abruptly. “Not as long as you don’t make me go inside.”

  In the parking lot, Sarah slid down in the passenger seat and hid her bruised face with one hand. Rachel checked out four books from the local history section at rapid speed. Sarah didn’t sit up again until the truck was in motion.

  Ten minutes later, Rachel turned into her driveway. Down by the barn, the Johnson’s Well Service truck was still parked in the same place it had sat when they’d left for the courthouse. But Rachel was staring at the large commercial van that occupied the parking area in front of the house. Ladders were mounted on the roof. A huge man leaned against the vehicle. As they approached, he turned to face them. David Gunner. A small bubble of long-buried anger surfaced. And the past she’d worked so hard to suppress came rushing back, a barrage images that left her as battered and bruised as any of Troy’s blows.