by Terese Ramin
Eyebrows beetled in consternation, Russ watched her go. Jess was missing and Maddie was ambling about a diner—the sort of small-towhe’d have told you she’d worked hard to get away from—chewing gum and hostessing in pink. Patting him on the head, for God’s sake—a truly disconcerting sign—and not telegraphing any messages to him. Good, bad or otherwise.
Somehow he was certain this did not bode well.
At all.
He looked at the receipt in his hand, discovered it appeared to be more a sheaf of them, and glanced across at Jonah, who simply blinked.
“You wanna fill me in?” Russ did his best to make it a suggestion. A mild one.
Jonah worked his shoulders, sat deep in his seat and shook his head. “No.”
Russ’s eyes narrowed, jaw hardened. “There a reason?”
His brother studied the question a moment, shrugged his mouth then waggled the fingers of his left hand in the air. “I’m not the one wearing a promise to communicate on my wedding hand. Not the one who didn’t call when I went off for better than a week on a high-stakes chase that might be dangerous. Or the one who left my brother to sit on his butt and watchdog my bride. Speakin’ a’ which…” He slid around in the booth and rose to stand in the aisle between tables, stuck out his rear and looked over his shoulder at it. Asked with mock anxiety, “My butt look fat to you? Been sittin’ on it a lot lately. Women who won’t date me have been shovin’ food at me. I’m not gettin’ any exercise. Not gettin’ out…”
“What the hell is wrong with everyone here today?”
The decibel level was well modulated, but Russ didn’t get beyond half rising in his seat before Tobi planted a hand on his shoulder and leaned on him.
“Whoa there, big guy, where ya goin’?” She turned over his coffee mug. “Have some coffee. Oops. Well, look at that.”
Stunned, Russ did. At the now-empty coffeepot, the contents of which were soaking his lap, his chair, his rear and through to his nether regions.
Tobi cocked her head, studied her handiwork with satisfaction. “Good thing I saved the cold stuff for you, huh?” she said and took the all too readily available towel off her shoulder, dropped it between his legs and started to leave. “Oh. Almost forgot.” She came back and pulled a folded diner check out of her apron pocket, planted it on the table and slid it across to him with one delicate finger. “Your bill, Lieutenant. One full pot of cold coffee and five full days’ worth of meals for Officer Levoie. You can pay at the register on your way out.”
Then she sashayed away, swinging the coffeepot, while the Fat Cat’s patrons looked on, wearing expressions that ranged from stifled mirth to shock.
Jonah studied his eldest brother with interest. Russ stared back, trying to figure out where his wits had gone—or better yet, wondering if he’d had any to begin with.
Because sure as sin he was dreaming this. Wet, coffee-stained lap and all.
“Wait for it,” Jonah advised.
Russ crinkled his already crinkled, beleaguered b“What?”
Jonah pointed with his chin. “Incoming. One more.”
If he’d paid attention to the warning, turned and ducked fast enough, he might have avoided the clip upside the head Janina gave him with her ring hand. But he didn’t. Not any of it. Didn’t turn, duck or avoid the ring she’d turned stone in to smack him just behind his right ear—hard.
“Ow! Damn. What the f…hell? Ring, Janie. Platinum, stone, hurts.”
“You had more hair, it mighta cushioned the blow,” his wife responded tartly. “But more to the point, do I have your attention?”
He regarded her with circumspection. Tipped his chin forward once—cautiously—without taking his eyes off her.
“Good.” She rewarded him with a toothy grin, a lot of fluttering eyelashes and a glance at his lap. “You know coffee stains. You really oughta get out of those wet things. Here.” She whisked away his empty coffee mug and dropped a huge, fluffy, new, bright purple bath towel the size of a blanket on the table in front of him and patted his cheek. “I brought this from home in case of emergencies. Wrap it around yourself and c’mon in the back. I mighta brought you in a clean uniform or something to change into in the event something like this happened first time Tobi saw you since, well…” She winked at him. “You know.”
“Aw, damn.” Russ slumped in his chair and scrubbed a hand across his eye. “I was worried you’d left me. Instead, you’re gonna make me pay, right?”
Janina’s smile this time was genuine, wicked and wholly feminine. “Ah-ah, no telling, remember? You made the rules.” She pulled her bill pad out of her pocket, scribbled on it, tore off the chit and dug into another pocket to pull out a cell phone and a beeper. She handed them to him along with the chit and a list of numbers and codes. “Presents,” she told him succinctly, managing to capitalize the words even in speech. “Communications devices. My new cell-phone and beeper numbers are programmed in for you already. You’ll find me listed under My Wife—just to prevent any possible confusion you might have over my being anyone else’s wife. Which makes these tools Direct Links To The Little Woman, aka Your Next Of Kin. Learn to use ’em.”
With a twitch of her hips that managed to say “I don’t give a damn what you’ve been up to for the last week without a word to me, Russ Levoie,” at the same time that it somehow gave full, taunting meaning to the come-hither sway-and-roll in departure mode, Janina left him without a backward glance.
None of the patrons in the Fat Cat were leaving. Live improvisational theater at one of the town’s police lieutenant’s expense was enough of a rarity in Winslow that everybody had to see what would happen next. Russ had no doubt there’d be a reporter with a camera soon.
He glared significantly at Jonah who, although doing an admirable job of covering, could clearly be listed among the “entertained.”
“So,” the shortest Levoie brother said, leaning out of his booth trying to catch a glimpse at the writing on the chit Janina had handed Russ without actually coming in range of Russ’s hands, “Csee how much she’s charging you for the lesson?”
“You’re hell-bent on a short life, aren’t you?” Russ snapped.
“No, really,” Jonah said innocently. “I wanna know. I’m tryin’ to learn from your mistakes. Educate me. You got one brand-new purple towel, a clip upside the head, a beeper and a cell phone, her beeper and cell phone, cleaning costs on your uniform—and whatever she got out of your trailer when I wasn’t lookin’ and brought in here for you to wear if Tobi dumped coffee in your lap, which we all knew she would, she’s been in that kinda mood for two weeks—and whatever else she figured in that isn’t comin’ to mind right now.” He paused for breath, leaned a little closer, gestured a finger at the check and said conspiratorially, “Anyway, c’mon. You owe me. Read it. Tell me.”
Russ considered killing him on the spot, witnesses notwithstanding and entertainment value being what it was and all. Reconsidered half a tick later when Janina once again put in an appearance behind him, dappled her fingers along the back of his neck, dropped off an order at another table and disappeared once more after sending him a look that smoked with challenge: Come talk to me or…else.
Or…else what?
Russ contemplated his options. Precious few rose to mind. He grimaced, eyed the cell phone and beeper, the sheaf of receipts from Maddie, the chit from Tobi, the huge purple bath towel and the check from Janina’s bill pad. Did a double take and nearly choked when he registered what she’d written there.
“I’m not wearing undies.”
Blew out a breath and slid a finger around his collar to alleviate the sudden tightness before divesting himself of his radio and gun and passing both to Jonah, who grinned at the preventive measures. Then he got up without meeting anyone’s eyes, wrapped the blasted flaming purple towel around his soaked—and sort of dripping by now—uniform pants, and strode into the Fat Cat’s netherworld to make damn sure that by the time he left, his wife was wearing her panties.
Chapter 10
Janina waited for him in the doorway of the Fat Cat’s small upstairs office. The suit bag containing whatever she’d brought for him to change into hung on a rack opposite the door.
She didn’t let him get near it.
The moment he came within range, she snagged him at the waist and hauled him bodily into the office, shut the door and locked it behind them.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I should’ve…”
“Later,” she muttered, stretching upward on her toes, reaching for his mouth with her own even as she tossed aside the towel, undid his belt and worked open his sodden trousers, shoved them off with his shorts and pushed him off balance into the leatherette desk chair. “Sit,” she ordered. “Shoes off.”
He huffed unaughter. “Janie, what—”
“Quiet. Take off your shoes. I can’t get your pants off over them.”
“I’m stickin’ to the chair.”
She rolled her eyes at him but grabbed the towel off the desk, handed it to him and went back to dragging his pants down his legs. “Put the towel under you.”
Laughter was awkward, almost painful. She was nuts, he couldn’t figure her out, and she was beautiful. Enticing. Exhilarating.
Enthralling.
He wanted her.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She pulled his pants off inside out with his shorts on the outside of them, and straightened and said impatiently, “Undressing you, duh. Now your shirttails are probably wet, too. You want me to get that for you, too, or you want to help?”
Russ figured it was probably best to just sit back and enjoy the ride, so he did. Sat back, parked his elbows wide over the arms of the chair and said judiciously, “No, you got a bug in your ear, you’ll get to it eventually. Go ahead, help yourself.”
The “bug in your ear” part might not have been the wisest thing he’d ever said, but Janina only paused a moment to narrow her eyes, work her jaw tightly over her neck and suck her teeth in irritation before reaching for his top shirt button.
By the time she got to his third button, she’d wedged her knees in between his thighs and the arms of the chair so she could straddle his lap. On the fourth button she took his mouth, and on the fifth she took him.
She never did finish getting his shirt off him.
Slumped heavily, forehead beneath his chin, a short while later, Janina felt Russ’s pulse pound beneath her skin while she waited for her breath to catch up with her. Her knees were starting to cramp, but she didn’t want to move, the rest of her was too comfortable, too situated, too right. He was right, finally, where he belonged. With her. If she moved, she’d destroy that, have to get on with…reality.
The things that made him stupid. The things that made her want to crack him over the head with a pot to see if that wouldn’t brain some sense into him. Because for the love of God, what made him think he could just marry her then tell her they were all in danger then go off for a week into who knew where…without a word. Without a blankety-blank-blankety word.
It made her want to shake him.
Especially when she thought about the part where nobody knew to call her if he got hurt so she could be there, damn it. Because he didn’t get to get injured in the line of duty anymore without her having something to say to him about the outcome.
And no, she didn’t care that it’d been an especially over-taxing week at the P.D. Sally Kamiski knew where her husband was and Don Chaney had heard from his wife and everyone she’d asked had heard from spouse, fiancé, significant other or what have you.
Except her. And she was definitely in the mood to excuse him on the grounds that he might have forgotten because they were simply too new for him to have remembered or thought to have called. Stupidity was the only explanation.
That or he thought that if he didn’t contact her she’d worry less.
Which led her directly back to stupidity.
As if sensing what she thought, Russ lifted a hand, let it drift through her hair and down her back.
“How much sorry do I owe you?” he asked softly.
She puffed out a half laugh, half sigh, and pushed herself up to lean her forearms against his chest. “It’s not about sorry, Russ. This one’s about more. You left me hanging. You didn’t let me know anything one way or another. And you didn’t let anybody else know about me. If anything happened to you, I’d want to know. I’d want to be there. That’s what I’ve had to think about this week. The fact that I wouldn’t have been notified if you’d been hurt, that nobody would have come for me.”
He stared at her stunned, while the truth hit home for the first time. If anything happened to her, too, under the present circumstances, the reverse would also be true—unless the thing was violent, and then he’d know early only by virtue of the job, and that didn’t bear thought. He swallowed. “Okay.”
“No. Not okay.”
She tried to push herself farther away from him to make a passionate point, but her knees got stuck. It was frustrating for her—and she was funny, but he was wise enough not to laugh. She looked daggers at him to make sure he didn’t. Because it wasn’t hilarious funny. Just sorta…off-kilter humorous in a disrespectful you-had-to-be-there dark-cop-humor kinda way if you could stand outside and look in or weren’t directly involved in it.
Mostly.
“It’s not okay,” she repeated, struggling to push herself off him.
He ached to give her a hand up, but she wasn’t looking for one, didn’t want it. This point was hers alone to make, not his to put so much as a finger in.
“You said it was dangerous for anyone to know about me because of Charlie, but you know what? That’s bull. Because Charlie’s looking for you, not me. He wants to talk to you. Whatever he wants, he wants it from you and Maddie, not from me. In which case he’d only come to me to get to you if he knew about me, right? So don’t be stupid about it. Quit staying away from him. And me. Let him find you. Let him reach you. Find out what he wants.”
She paused, poked a finger at him. “And tell people we’re married, damn it. Because I’m not losing you just ’cuz people don’t know I’m your person to call in case of emergency.” She stopped, swallowed. Eyed him seriously. “So change that on your work forms today, okay?”
It hadn’t even occurred to him to change his emergency contacts. He was an ass. He nodded. “Okay, yep. Absolutely. But you, too.”
“Did it my first day back to work.” Her mouth quirked a half smile. “But I wasn’t out hunting kidnappers and escaped cons and lost boys and directing traffic around fires.”
His grin was slow and appreciative. “See, you knew where I was.”
“Everyone knew where you were. But I didn’t know from you. Didn’t hear from you. And no specifics.” She paused, stabbed a finger at him for emphasis. “And no one woulda told me about you just because it was me. Your wife. Understand?”
He nodded. Loud and clear. “Yeah.”
She pointed at the cell phone and beeper dumped on the floor with his pants. “So now you’ve got technology, you can keep in touch.”
There was Levoie in his grin this time. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And there will be actual speaking when you call,” Janina said severely. “Not any of this vintage nonspeaking Russ Levoie we all know and love.”
“Speaking,” Russ agreed. Then curiously and with deliberate innocence, “How many minutes did you sign me up for? Only enough for me to fix on the topic of where I am and get off, or can I, ah, veer off topic to things like whether or not you’re wearing panties and so on when I’m talking to you?”
For a long moment Janina simply stared at him in disbelief. Then she started to laugh, long and hard and with unadulterated delight.
Her idiot husband might turn out to be trainable after all.
By the time Russ was dressed in the clean uniform Janina had brought from his trailer, they’d worked out a series of beeper codes for her to use if she wa
nted or needed to contact him and he was either out of range on his cell phone or having it on would be unwise.
Janina had also filled him in on the particulars of the restraining order she’d gotten against Buddy—he wasn’t allowed within one hundred feet of her—and some of the things she and Maddie had started to remember about being neighbors “back in the when.”
“It’s not like it was much,” she said, watching him thoughtfully. “Until I brought up Buddy.”
He cocked his head and she made a throwaway gesture.
“You know the way you do when you’re getting to know someone and talking about past relationships and how they were the most idiotic thing you ever did—”
Russ swallowed a grin.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, the jury’s still out on you.”
He laughed and made a grab for her, pulled her close. “Not from where I’m standin’.”
“Yeah, well.” She cupped him. “This jury’s brain is constantly in your shorts.”
He kissed her, thoroughly, intensely. Muttered seriously, “Not all of it.”
Janina caught her breath and for a minute time stopped, she forgot everything in the heady, terrifying, powerful wash of him around her, through her.
And moment passed and she was sane again, able to step back and see him for who he was, who he could be—who he’d forgotten to be this last week, and it steadied her.
He was everything she wanted.
He was also only human, fallible.
Only Russ.
Which was exactly everything that made him special. And which would undoubtedly aggravate her to pieces until the end of time.
“Anyway.” She drew a breath and steadied herself, brushed a hand across his mouth and pressed away. “I was saying…”
“Buddy,” he prompted, moving in behind her and sliding a hand along her stomach to bring her back against him at the same time that he dipped and nuzzled aside her hair to plant light kisses on the back of her neck.