by Toni Blake
“Are you sure Mr. Knightley wouldn’t like having a friend at home?” Rachel suggested.
Yet Amy drew back in horror. “God, no. He’d disown me.” Mr. Knightley was Amy’s own beloved cat, and according to Tessa, Amy had an unhealthy attachment to him. Which Rachel was starting to believe. “Maybe Edna could use a nice cat at the orchard?” Amy asked.
Rachel tilted her head. “Could be. I’ll check.”
Just then, Tessa emerged from another set of shelves, looking as dainty and pretty as ever, her hazel eyes going wide. “Rach, you’re here!”
And finally hugs were traded, and Rachel couldn’t deny that this would be one nice aspect of her return to Destiny. She looked forward to Tessa and Amy’s visit every autumn, and this one—though much different than usual—would be extended. And it was probably high time she saw what their lives were like now that they were all older—even if she would miss dragging them up and down the Miracle Mile.
“Let’s have a seat,” Amy said, motioning to a friendly grouping of overstuffed easy chairs by the door, so Rachel and Tessa sat down while Amy poured coffee into big, brightly colored mugs from the pot she kept brewing.
“So, how’s Edna?” Tessa asked as Amy passed her a large cup, then settled into another chair.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Fit as a fiddle, of course. Until I reminded her that her knees were supposed to be hurting, and she grabbed onto the nearest piece of furniture for support. But that’s Edna. All I can do is indulge her, spend time with her, and help with the apples for a couple of weeks to make her happy.” It had become a semi-annual occurrence the last few years—Edna claimed some illness or injury in order to make one of her children or grandchildren come visit for a while. And because they all loved the ornery old woman, they tolerated it. Although the thought reminded Rachel again what bad timing this was.
“Why do you call her Edna instead of Grandma?” Amy asked, squinting lightly. “I’ve always wondered that.”
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know. All the grand-kids just always have, since we were little. A Farris family tradition, I guess. Or maybe we just all tend to be smart-asses,” she added with a laugh. Then she remembered using the same word to describe the Romos last night. The pot calling the kettle black, she supposed, as he’d pretty much pointed out—but Officer Romeo had been asking for it.
Amy smiled, looking giddy. “I’m so happy you’re here—this is going to be great!”
Yet Rachel gave her head a pointed tilt, gladly letting Amy yank her thoughts off her encounter with Mr. You-Speed-You-Pay. “Don’t get too attached to me, Ames. The minute I feel I’ve done my duty and can make a safe getaway, I’m outta here.”
The words instantly replaced Amy’s smile with a frown.
“Sorry, but there’s trouble in Ad Land, girls,” Rachel informed them, applying the little moniker they’d always used for her job at Conrad/Phelps.
As she told the whole horrid story about suddenly being in competition with Pamela Tremaine—“who I trained and mentored, I might add”—her stomach churned. Now that she was actually in Destiny, it was starting to hit her in a whole new brutal way that she really might not have a job to go back to. “My bosses always claimed I had ‘the magic’ when it came to getting and keeping clients, but I guess I haven’t been pulling enough rabbits out of my hat lately. And I could probably get another job, but times are tight in advertising, so I might come off as over-qualified for whatever’s out there. And besides, I’ve been at Conrad/Phelps for over ten years—a third of my life.”
Amy leaned over to give her another small hug without spilling any coffee, while Tessa looked truly pained for her—and if Rachel had been the kind of girl who cried, she might have started tearing up a little. After all, she’d left Destiny with a plan, a goal, a dream, and she’d achieved it all. She’d built the life she wanted—from nothing. To think of losing it was devastating.
“Do you have some money socked away, in case you need it?” Tessa asked.
Rachel nodded, both hands wrapped around the big coffee cup she held. “I’d be fine for a while—but it’s more the…far reaching implications that worry me.”
The truth was, she was well paid and enjoyed spending what she earned—on travel, a nice condo on Lakeshore Drive, and yes, she squandered more money on shoes than most people would consider sane—but she didn’t spend it all. Far from it. And it had been more than a desire for jet-setting in Jimmy Choos that had pushed her to climb the corporate ladder—she had other financial issues no one knew about.
Fortunately, though, her friends didn’t ask what implications she was referring to, probably assuming it was a general worry about her future. And it wasn’t that she meant to keep secrets from them, but…well, she didn’t even like thinking about this stuff, so she certainly saw no reason to talk about it.
“And if that’s not enough,” she went on, “I got a speeding ticket last night coming into town. From that Romo guy, of all people.” But why on earth was she bringing him up? It’s probably just money concerns, one leading to another in your mind, that’s all. Not to mention how disconcerted by her own behavior she’d been. Somehow, her normal, cool confidence had completely abandoned her.
Given how glum she surely sounded, it surprised her when Amy’s eyes lit up. “Was I not right? Is he not hot?” She totally ignored the speeding ticket part of the equation, along with Rachel’s grimace.
And even as her skin tingled at the memory, Rachel found herself loath to admit she found anything about him appealing. “I suppose. But good God, the guy’s an ass.”
“Amen to that,” Tessa agreed, long tawny locks framing her face. “You’re not the first person to get pulled over by him to think he was a jerk. My Aunt Alice, for one.”
Amy sent Tessa a chiding look. “How many times do I have to remind you that your Aunt Alice drives like a lunatic?” Then she glanced back to Rachel and tried to smooth it over even more. “He’s not that bad. He’s had a rough past, you know.”
This perked up Rachel’s ears. “No, I don’t know. What was so rough in his past?”
“Oh, come on—you remember. What happened back when we were kids.”
But Rachel remained in the dark, so she freed one hand from her mug and made a rolling motion, encouraging Amy to keep going. “I’ve been gone since high school—I need more to go on.”
Just then, Shakespeare—who Rachel had nearly forgotten about—bounded heftily up into her lap. “Dear God,” she snapped, drawing back slightly. “This is a freaking enormous cat.” She suspected the pushy tabby weighed a good fifteen pounds.
“Shakespeare,” Amy scolded. “Bad kitty.” Then she lifted her gaze to Rachel. “He’s not usually that rude. He must like you.”
“Lucky me,” she said. Then tried to get back on topic. “So, about Officer Romo.”
“Mike,” Amy clarified for her.
She hadn’t noticed his first name last night, too wrapped up in discovering his last. “Okay—Mike,” she said, if that would get Amy talking.
And then Amy got a familiar look in her eye—one that made all her friends recoil on a regular basis. “You know what would get your mind off your troubles? A little romance with Mike Romo.”
Oh brother! Rachel rolled her eyes and tried to budge the cat from her lap—but he wasn’t moving. “You’ve got to be joking.” Because yeah, the mere thought of Officer Romeo might make her flutter in all the right places, but it was an impossibility—for numerous reasons.
“Need I remind you how good-looking he is?” Amy prodded.
“Need I remind you that he’s a louse, and a creep, and a Romo? Who gave me a hundred-and-fifty-dollar speeding ticket?”
Both girls hissed in their breath at the amount. “Ouch,” Tessa said.
“Ouch is right. That could cost me a heating bill, or groceries. Or…a pair of shoes. If they were on sale anyway.”
“Well, if you’re not into Mike Romo,” Amy said, back to being her perk
y, habitually matchmaking self that fast, “what about Logan?” Logan Whitaker had been Amy’s neighbor growing up and he was like a brother to her.
“What about him?” Rachel asked.
Now Tessa rolled her eyes. “She tries to fix everyone up with Logan. Me included.”
Poor Tessa. And poor Logan, too, having to deal with Amy in Cupid mode. Rachel narrowed her gaze on Amy. “Why? Is there something wrong with him?”
“God, no—there’s definitely something right with him.”
“It’s true, he’s utterly hot,” Tessa added, clearly knowing Rachel trusted her opinion of guys more than she did romantic, idealistic Amy’s. “But there just wasn’t any chemistry between us. And he’s probably a commitment-phobe or something—he never dates anyone for long.”
“Maybe he’s one of those guys who gets bored when the chase is over,” Rachel suggested.
Yet Amy only responded with a shrug. “I’d just like to see him find a nice girl and settle down, you know?”
Absently scratching the big fat cat on her lap behind his ears, Rachel lowered her chin. “Then you’re barking up the wrong tree, sister, since you know I’m not the settling down type.” She was a committed career girl to the core.
“Maybe that’s why I thought you’d like Mike,” Amy said. “He’s not into settling down, either.”
Hmm. “Not that I care,” she pointed out, “but how do you know that about him?”
Amy leaned forward in her chair, as if ready to tell a secret. She was as pure as the driven snow, but she did enjoy her Destiny gossip. “Well, from what Logan says, Mike’s with a different girl every weekend, over in Crestview.”
“I see,” Rachel said, instantly annoyed at the notion Officer Romeo was a womanizer in addition to being a jerk. “He seemed like such a straight arrow. Who’d have thought?”
“And he’s Logan’s best friend, so that means Mike can’t be all bad,” Amy added.
“Or maybe Logan just…feels sorry for him or something. Because of that rough past you mentioned.” Rachel lowered her coffee cup to a side table and bent over the cat, ready to draw Amy back to her original tale—but then she sat up straighter, wondering aloud, “Wait—why don’t I remember him?”
“He was a few years ahead of us in school,” Tessa replied.
“Ah.” Made sense. “And I thought one Romo was as bad as any other, so they mostly all ran together in my mind. But back to whatever happened to him—”
And that’s when the bell on the door jingled brusquely and all three girls looked up to see none other than Mike Romo himself suddenly towering over them in all his tall, hot, masculine, uniformed glory.
Oh boy. Speak of the devil. The words lingered on the tip of Rachel’s tongue, but she held them back—she had no intention of letting him know they’d been talking about him. Still, just like last night, the mere sight of him affected her. Physically. Which was disappointing. She’d been hoping she’d overreacted—that maybe it had been the result of being so tired, or of having the sun in her eyes the whole time. Yet somehow he looked even better than last night. Maybe because she could really see him now—no sun, no glare. Nothing to keep her from feasting her eyes on just how sexy he really was. Jerk or not.
“There’s a car blocking the fire hydrant outside,” he barked toward all of them, just as gruff as the previous evening—and only then did his eyes drop to her. “I thought that Beamer looked familiar. Out breaking more laws, Farris?”
“Officer Romeo to the rescue,” she muttered under her breath.
But apparently not low enough to keep him from hearing. “Aching for another ticket? If not, move your car.”
Oh, relax, Fife. And quit talking about aching—since she was, but for something far more pleasurable than another ticket. “All right, all right, Romo—keep your pants on. I’ll be out in a minute.”
He gave her a funny look—and she realized with horror that she’d made a remark about his pants, which could indicate she was thinking about what was in them—but then he went back to being his usual crusty self. “No, not in a minute. Now. Unless you want that ticket.”
“Sheesh,” she said, peering up at him. “So much for small town hospitality.” Then she heaved Shakespeare to the floor, murmuring, “Silly cat,” as she pushed to her feet and whisked past Mike Romo.
Only she passed too close, in order not to trip over the cat—and accidentally brushed up against him. Her arm touched his, and—oh dear—her breast grazed his biceps, too. And a hot, sizzling sensation rippled through her whole body as she made her way out the door. Holy God, what was that?
Well, okay, it was a feeling you got when you came into contact with a sexually attractive man, that was all. It was a hormonal thing—even if she didn’t like knowing some small town Romo could produce that kind of response in her. But it meant nothing. It was time she got that through her head and Mike Romo off her mind. Since the two of them clearly disliked each other, even without a nasty family feud hanging over them to make it official.
Yet as she headed toward the curb, she sensed him catching the door behind her and following her out. And she became aware that he’d smelled…kind of manly. In a different way than men in Chicago smelled. Sort of musky. And rugged.
Oh, stop it, for heaven’s sake. The man smells like sweat, that’s all. It’s August.
But when had the smell of sweat started…turning her on?
And as she made her way around her car, noting the police cruiser parked in front of it, she found herself wondering if he might be watching her—her body, her ass.
When she reached the driver’s side door, she gave him a cutting look over the roof of her 325i. “Um, aren’t you illegally parked, too?”
Although she hadn’t been trying to make a joke, Officer Romeo appeared, for the first time, as if he might actually crack a smile. But then he didn’t. “Cops can park wherever necessary in order to uphold the law.”
“Of course they can,” she murmured. Then said, “Where am I supposed to park, Romeo? Since I’d like to come back and see my friends, if you don’t mind.”
He pointed. “There’s an open spot on the other side of the square.”
“Fine,” she snipped, then got in, started the car, and pulled out, careful not to nip his bumper. God, he probably would put her in jail then.
As she maneuvered her car into in the empty spot, she wondered when on earth Destiny had started having enough traffic to run low on parking. And as she got out, she realized Romeo had circled the square in his cruiser and was pulling up beside her. What now? Was he going to criticize her parking in some way? Or…was it possible he just wanted to watch her some more when she walked back across the grassy square? Not that she was positive he’d been watching in the first place—but she thought so.
And without quite planning it, she found herself sauntering toward him, even leaning down into his open window. “Is that good enough, Romeo? Did I get inside the lines? Am I close enough to the curb? Am I walking too fast, or too slow? Is there any other way you can harass me? Anything more you want me to do?” Then it hit her—good Lord, was she trying to flash him her cleavage? Surely not.
Like back in front of the bookstore, she almost thought he would smile—yet, again, he didn’t. “Yeah. You can tell Edna I said hi.”
Thoroughly surprised, Rachel raised her eyebrows. “As if she’d want a hello from a Romo.” That’s when she realized his eyes had that bedroom quality to them. Crap—why did I have to notice that? Something about looking directly into them had just turned her knees to putty.
“Actually, Edna and I get along just fine,” he claimed. “In fact, she’s the most reasonable Farris I ever met.”
Hmm. Was that supposed to hurt her feelings? Well, he’d have to try harder than that. “Afraid you’ll have to tell her yourself, because I’m pretty sure you’ll be off my mind as soon as you’re no longer in my face.” Or would that be in my cleavage?
“You wish,” he mumbled as she
turned to go. Or at least that was what it sounded like.
So she spun on her heel. “What?” Was he really that arrogant? Even if she was putty, she couldn’t stand conceited men.
And now, of all times, he grinned. Just a little. In an infuriatingly cocky way that made his eyes sparkle. “Nothing, Farris. Just keep walking.”
And, oh my—they were brown. His eyes. Kind of a rich, chocolaty color that made her stomach feel a little hollow. And—oh God—that was why he looked even better to her than he had last night. She could see his eyes now. His warm, sexy, bedroom eyes.
Meeting his gaze one last time, just daring him to say another word, she finally turned back around and did what he said—walked across the Destiny town square toward the bookstore. But she was pretty sure she felt him watching her with every step. And it made her body tingle like crazy.
Uh-oh. This was bad. Really bad.
His gorgeousness hadn’t been a figment of her imagination.
And a mean, bossy, small-town cop was so not her type.
And, worst of all, he was a Romo.
Damn him for that.
What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?
William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet
Two
Mike Romo sat in his cruiser, just off Meadowview Highway near the Destiny city limits, the car partially camouflaged by a copse of small cedars, his radar gun at the ready. He knew people thought he was a hard-ass when it came to speeding—probably thought he was an overzealous cop bent on meeting some kind of monthly quota. But Mike wasn’t motivated by bringing citation money into the town coffers—he was driven by one sole purpose: keeping people in Destiny safe.
Maybe that made him some kind of stick-in-the-mud, but he didn’t care. And if each ticket he wrote did anything to make someone drive—or live—a little more cautiously…well, then it helped him sleep at night.
Just then, Willie Hargis’s old red pickup came ambling up the road—Willie was an elderly man who took his time at whatever he was doing, driving included, and Mike liked him for that. Willie even lifted his hand in a wave as the truck went past, accustomed to seeing Mike monitor this stretch of highway, and Mike returned the gesture.