Purrfect Justice

by Ashley Ladd

  Drat! Now she looked like a fool in front of the whole precinct. Of course, this was Ft. Lauderdale so the more outlandish she was, the better she’d fit in. “No, nothing’s bothering me. Whatever could I possibly fret about on this bright, sunny, absolutely perfect South Florida morning?” Furious, crazed with jealousy, she tossed the sucker into the trashcan under her desk, and then slammed another sheaf of papers on her desk, knocking the plate of cookies over the edge.

  Cole dove for the plate, rescuing it in the nick of time. He placed it gently in the center of her desk and took a cookie to nibble. “Whoa! Why the hostility? Did I do something?” He spoke through a mouthful of cookie crumbs. Some crumbs stuck to his lips, drawing her gaze.

  She well remembered how they were responsible for bruising her tender, swollen ones. The wide-eyed innocent look he bestowed threatened to topple her hard-won resolve.

  Her traitorous lips throbbed under his smoldering scrutiny, and she could almost taste the memory of his heart-stopping kisses. “No,” she snapped. Of course, she couldn’t admit to knowing he’d gone out with another woman after he’d dropped her at home. Either he’d know she was the mystery woman, or he’d think she’d been spying on him. Neither answer was likely to endear her to him. How could she extricate herself from this mess?

  An indefinable glint flickered across his luscious eyes and his chin dimpled. “I’d still really like to see your sketches.” He reached out to touch her hand when Crowe walked by frowning, his brows drawn together, clearing his throat. Straightening to his full height, Cole towered over her.

  Feeling shabby at being a grouch to him when she was really at fault, she relented. “How about I make you a gourmet dinner at my place?” She fluttered her lashes, then remembered the effect would probably be lost behind her darkened lenses. She was anxious for the day she could wear her contacts. “I’ll show you my sketches.” After hiding her costume again. Maybe for good.

  His features contorted, and she could almost see the wheels spinning in his head. “Can’t tonight. I’m on special assignment.”

  The way he said “special assignment” made her tremble. “What kind of special assignment?”

  “Top secret.” A shutter fell over his eyes and his face became a mask. “Friday?” He frowned, tapping his chin with his finger. “No, that won’t work. This weekend’s the playoffs. I don’t know how late the games will go. Depends whether we win or not.”

  “Bite your tongue, naysayer! Positive thinking only!” Brad slapped Cole’s shoulder as he ambled by. “We’re going to cream Pembroke Pines and Delray!”

  “Rah-rah, team! Sis-boom-bah!” Cole punched his fists in the air, and kicked his well-muscled leg out like a cheerleader.

  “Sonny boy!” A deep voice boomed through the room.

  Finding it completely unfamiliar, Haley swiveled to search for the source.

  Cole froze, groaning, hiding his face in his hands. “Oh, no! Not here.”

  Curious, Haley studied the stranger who was an older version of Cole with longer, unrulier hair, sauntering toward them in a pale yellow leisure suit. He had the attention of everyone in the room.

  Cindy’s blasé gaze raked over the man as she filed her nails.

  Brad scratched his head, his gaze switching from Cole to the older man. “That your old man? Did you know he was coming?”

  Haley eyed Cole closely, anxiously awaiting more details. Surely this adorable man couldn’t be the father he was so embarrassed by.

  “This is a complete and total surprise. He’s supposed to warn me before he swoops in. Oh, man.” Cole rubbed his stubbly hair, agitation in his every jerky movement.

  Cole’s father stopped two feet in front of his son, flung his arms wide, and bellowed, “Well? Aren’t you glad to see your old man, the Toilet King, Kojak?”

  “Nix on the toilet thing, okay, Pops?” Cole’s gaze shifted around to everyone in the room. He blushed furiously as people laughed out loud. “And don’t call me Kojak!” If he ground his teeth any more, he’d have no enamel left.

  Fascinated, Haley watched as Cole’s father enveloped him in a huge, smothering bear hug usually reserved for little children, not grown adults, and certainly not big, tough policemen. She couldn’t imagine being ashamed of her father, the police chief. He was her forever hero. Then, of course, her dad didn’t show up in a leisure suit, bellowing out he was the “Toilet King” in front of all her coworkers. Pity swelled in her bosom. Poor Cole.

  Cole hissed. “Stop that!”

  “What?” Unsure if he spoke to her, Haley looked behind her and around her, and then pointed to herself. When he nodded, thunderclouds flashing in his eyes, she asked, “What’d I do?”

  “Stop pitying me,” Cole mouthed over his father’s shoulder.

  Guiltily, she looked down at her feet. She hadn’t meant to pity or anger him.

  Finally, Cole’s father released him and stepped back. “So this is world famous Ft. Lauderdale. Where’s all the hot babes with the big hooters in bikinis?”

  “At the beach.” Cole pointed to his right. “Only a mile or so east.” His face lit up. “Want me to take you now?” Hope colored his voice. “They’re even allowed to wear G-strings here.” When his father hesitated, Cole added, “You could check out the beach sanitary facilities. They’re really antiquated. I bet you could sell them a whole new system.”

  A grin split the older man’s face. “I told you you were the Toilet Prince! I knew your mind was on toilets, that you would help your old man in the end.”

  “The ‘Toilet Prince’? That’s priceless.” Brad’s laughter bubbled from his lips.

  Cole glared at his friend and partner. He fisted his hand and let Brad have a peek at it behind his other hand. “I am not the ‘Toilet Prince’. I am your senior partner, and I write your performance reviews. Remember?” Cole’s voice had never been deadlier.

  Brad backed off, his hands held high in the air, palms flat out. He couldn’t stop snickering.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends and coworkers?” Cole’s dad asked, standing his ground, his hands deep in his pockets. He dragged out a hand holding a stack of business cards and handed one to Brad. He smiled widely as he stuck a card in Brad’s hand. “I’m Dwight, the Toilet King of the Midwest and Cole’s proud papa.” He pronounced Dwight as “Du-white” with a very pronounced country twang. “If you need a new toilet bowl or septic system, I can cut you a deal. Be sure to come to me first. As a friend of my son’s, I’ll give you an extra ten percent off your total purchase.”

  Brad stared at the card in his hand as if he’d just landed in the Twilight Zone. “Sure. Sure thing.” He lifted the card and waved it in the air. “Thanks.”

  Dwight turned to Haley, pinning her with his keen gaze. He winked at his son. “Who’s this pretty little filly? Is this one yours?”

  Haley gulped, hanging onto Cole’s next words, wondering what he would say. One date didn’t make her his girl, did it? Especially since he’d two-timed her right afterward. To alleviate the awkwardness, she offered up the plate of cookies. “Hi. I’m Haley, one of the precinct’s administrative assistants. Have a cookie? I baked them myself.”

  Dwight plucked a chocolate chip cookie off the plate. “Don’t mind if I do.” He nudged his son in the ribs. “This one can cook, too. You’d better snag her.” His gaze raked over her. “But put her on a diet so she can fit in one of those G-strings.”

  Cole’s Adam’s apple nearly fell out of his throat and his eyes bulged. He clutched his father’s wrist. “Pops!”

  Haley’s new lollipop nearly fell out of her open mouth. The stick dangled from her lips. Had she heard right? Was Cole’s father really that brazen and forthright? Or just insensitive?

  “You’re going to get me creamed if you keep helping me like this,” Cole muttered, his face nearly purple by now. “Sorry, Haley.” He nudged his father in the ribs. “Apologize to Haley, Pops.”

  Dwight faced off to Haley, his hand h
eld out to shake hers. “I’m sorry if I insinuated that you’re, uh, a little on the stout side.”

  Haley took his hand, unable to do anything else without looking peevish. Plus she supposed Dwight was one of those people who spoke their minds and didn’t embarrass easily. He had to be, to be proud of a title like “Toilet King”. A horrible thought struck her—if her dearest wish came true and she married Cole one day, she’d be the “Toilet Princess” and eventually, the “Toilet Queen”. She stifled a pained groan.

  “But it’s such a shame that a girl with such a pretty face don’t have a figure to match. At least you don’t have a double chin like my secretary, Myrtle, back home. Or a big bald spot on the top of your head.” He clapped his son on the back so hard that Cole lurched forward. “Right, son?”

  Her eyes widened so large in her face her cheeks hurt, and she chomped down on her sucker so hard it splintered into dozens of shards. A couple of large ones went down her windpipe and she choked.

  Cole reached her side in two giant strides and pounded her back until she spit up the candy. “You okay?” Real concern laced his voice.

  Clutching her sore throat in her hand, she smiled wanly. “Yeah. Thanks.” Her glasses slid to the tip of her nose so that she peered over the top at Cole. She pushed them back in place hurriedly, turning away from Cole as she did so, hoping he had not gotten a good look at her face sans glasses.

  “Sure you don’t need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?” A glimmer of the Cole she knew and loved returned as he cracked a lopsided smile.

  She couldn’t help but give him an answering grin as her stomach flip-flopped.

  “That’s better.” He pinched her cheek. “How about I view those sketches Monday night?” He winked so that only she could see him. “Or Sunday night if we win the tournament early enough?”

  A raging inferno blasted through her, and she longed to throw herself into his arms now and not wait for Sunday or Monday. Not trusting her voice, fearing it would come out too sultry and husky, she nodded. She tucked her hair behind her ears as her cheeks burned.

  Chapter Seven

  Haley worried about Cole all afternoon and evening. Something big was up. Something top secret. He tended to end up at the wrong end of a gun way too often. The man desperately needed his own genie in a bottle.

  She worried her lower lip with her teeth as she beat her cookie batter to a pulp, trying to get out her aggressions and failing miserably. Genies usually wore colorful veils, although they did wear slinky spandex costumes, too.

  She entertained herself listening to the police monitor, waiting for news of Cole’s mission, praying trouble didn’t find him again. When someone banged on the door, she jumped, nearly dropping the ceramic bowl in her arms. Would Cole show up at her door unannounced?

  She turned off the radio in case it was him. She didn’t want him to know she followed his progress when he was on night or weekend duty.

  A strange woman’s fist almost pounded Haley’s forehead when she opened the door. “Hiya, toots.”

  The visitor didn’t wait for an invitation, but strolled in and dropped onto Haley’s lounger.

  Haley blinked at the intruder, awed at her nerve. “Do I know you? Perhaps you have the wrong apartment.”

  The woman’s brows lifted, and she chuckled heartily. “Don’t you recognize your best friend and most perfect, gorgeous, delightful neighbor? Not even my lovely voice?”

  Haley did a double take, approaching her guest with caution. Stooping low so that she was eye level with the woman, she stared into her eyes and studied her features. Sure enough, a red pageboy wig with bangs hid Sher’s hair. Haley had to laugh aloud at herself. By now, she should be used to her friend, the chameleon, especially as she herself was a chameleon-in-training.

  Now she understood how Cole didn’t recognize her. Sher didn’t even wear glasses, just different makeup and a new wig, and Haley had not recognized her. She supposed she should cut the sexy policeman a break.

  Sher dipped her finger into the bowl and scooped out cookie dough, which she plopped into her mouth. A heavenly expression spread over her face. “Umm, peanut butter. If I baked like you did, I’d be as wide as my baby grand piano. You should sell this stuff. You’d be an overnight millionaire.” She stole another chunk of the dough and let it melt in her mouth, ecstasy lighting her face.

  “Did you come over to steal my cookie dough?” Haley estimated how much dough she had left and grimaced. “I’ll have to whip up more now.”

  “Sorry, doll. But it’s irresistible.” The wide grin on the redhead’s face negated her words.

  Haley didn’t really mind. Her friend’s appearance was a godsend anyway. She really wanted to share her secret with someone, but she didn’t dare confide in Cindy lest all of Greater Miami–Ft. Lauderdale would see it on the five o’clock news. Sher could keep secrets.

  Dropping onto the couch, she kicked her feet up on her coffee table, crossing her legs at her ankles. She cuddled the bowl on her lap and sampled the dough. “God forgive me this double life. I’m always jealous of myself. I’m going to become Sybil any moment.” She groaned and hid her face in her hands.

  “I liked Peggy better.” Sher looked completely unperturbed.

  Her friend’s lack of concern disturbed Haley immensely. “I just told you, my best friend in the whole wide world, that my mind is splintering into a million fragments, and you’re not even concerned?” Haley turned her lips down as far as they would go. Depressed, she plopped another glob of cookie dough in her mouth and sucked on it. She should have made chocolate cookies. Chocolate was better for depression.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you think you’re losing it?” Sher adopted a professional psychologist smile.

  Haley could play the game, too. Swinging her legs onto the couch, she stretched out supiprone. “Remember the brown wig you gave me?”

  “You’re going to blame me for your psychosis?” Sher tapped her chin. “Avoidance disorder. You’re not taking responsibility for your own actions.”

  Haley screwed up her face and crooked her head to glare at her friend-cum-counselor. Her fingers drummed her tummy. “Do you want to hear my story or not?”

  “Continue. But don’t ask me questions if you don’t want me to answer.”

  Haley stared at the ceiling. “Remember the Catwoman costume I wore at the Police Halloween Masquerade?” Oops! She hurried before her friend answered this question as well, sure Sher couldn’t forget the infamous costume.

  “Anyway, on the way home from the ball, I had my police scanner on as I always do, and I heard cops were in trouble just a couple of streets away from where I was. And I went to the crime scene, snuck up on the armed gunman, and saved two policemen. Then I ran away so they wouldn’t know who I am.”

  Sher nodded and mumbled, “Uh-huh. So the damsel saved the white knights. Cool.” She leaned forward and snatched the cookie dough from Haley. “I’m performing my public duty for the night—saving you from deadly cellulite.” She took a big exaggerated bite.

  Haley winced, but at least she hadn’t thrown anything more tangible than a caustic comment.

  “There’s more.” Haley wasn’t sure whether to thank her friend or fight for the food. Then she remembered how her spandex slacks showed every wrinkle and mole, and decided her figure would appreciate the suffering for its sake. “A couple of nights later, I heard another cop needed assistance, so I put my costume back on. Well, not the cap or mask or ears. Oh, and not the tail. But I dressed in the black spandex slacks and the leotard, donned your wig and my new brown contact lenses, disguising myself.”

  Sher leaned forward, her full attention on Haley. A grin hovered on her lips. “This is better than my soap opera.”

  “The same cop was in trouble.” Cole’s visage floated through Haley’s mind, and she smiled dreamily. “His name is Cole Fischer, and I’ve been crazy about him since he came to work in my precinct three years ago. God, he’s gorgeous!” Remembering his molten to
uch, her mouth went dry and her toes curled.

  “He fed me bugs on our date, and he’s the most wonderful lover…” She hugged herself, missing Cole, praying he’d be okay on his current mission.

  Sher’s jaw dropped, then her nose wrinkled. “Gross out! Bugs?” She knocked on Haley’s skull. “Who am I talking to now? Sybil? What do you mean he fed you ‘bugs’?”

  “It was really lobster, but he calls them ‘bugs’.” She remembered the truth, and she couldn’t tell a lie. “You know, actually, I started it and he just retaliated.”

  “Started what?” Sher tapped her toe spasmodically. “If you don’t start making sense, you’ll be able to call me Sybil, too.”

  Haley smiled softly as she wound a strand of her hair around her fingers as she looked back into time. “I called lobsters ‘bugs’ first. So when my dinner was served, he called it a ‘big bug’ when I was chewing the first bite.”

  “This dinner wasn’t very romantic, was it? What is it you like about this guy?”

  “Oh, but it was very romantic. He cut my lobster for me, and then fed me.” Tingles shot up Haley’s spine and she shuddered deliciously. “And then he told me all about his father, the Toilet King of Milwaukee…”

  “Huh? You’ve lost me again. Back up.” Sher crossed her legs, Indian style, in the chair and folded her hands in her lap.

  “His father sells sanitary facilities. He wants Cole to go home and help him run the family business, but Cole likes being a cop.”

  “Can’t say I blame him if those are his only choices.” The redhead flexed her feet, unable to sit still.

  “I don’t, either. But of course you know my dream was to be a cop.” Haley sighed loudly. “That night, after he brought me home, I put on my disguise again…oh, and that’s why I borrowed your motorcycle, by the way, and I went to his apartment and took him for a ride.”

  “Oh, my God…I’m an accessory. How many years are you going to get for impersonating a cop? How many years will I get?”