Everyday Hero

by Jo Leigh

“Hmm?”

  “Really. I haven’t done it in—well, a long time. It’s not that hard, you know. Lots of people are celibate.”

  “I don’t even like to hear that word.”

  “It’s just that I’ve never been able to separate sex and love. And I’ve never been any good at love.”

  His chest kept rising and falling, moving her head with him. She could hear his heartbeat, a steady strong pulse that seemed incredibly intimate to her.

  The longer he stayed silent, the more she thought she shouldn’t have said anything. Now he would think she was out to trap him or something. “Forget it. It’s not important.”

  “I’ve never been any good at it, either,” he said, his voice soft and kind. “Maybe this is better. Being friends, I mean.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re my first, you know.”

  “First what?”

  “Friend that I’ve had sex with.”

  “I see.”

  “Hey, this is a big deal.”

  He rubbed her arm and she closed her eyes.

  “The women I’ve known, I don’t know, have all had this schedule. First dating, then sex, then marriage. Like it was all written up beforehand in some secret women’s manual. So having sex was like this test. To see if I could do it, then escape. You know?”

  “I think so.”

  “But with you, I can just enjoy it. No pressure.”

  “Right.”

  “So I’m thinking this might be a good thing for both of us.”

  “How do you know I don’t have a schedule?”

  “You wouldn’t have said what you did at my mother’s house if that were true.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Basically, you told me to grow the hell up. To stop whining and get on with it.”

  “And that meant I didn’t have marriage in mind?”

  “No. Just that I was more important to you than that. It was a risk. I might not have come back, you know.”

  “Sure you would have.”

  “I thought about leaving. Just getting in my car and going back home.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I’m not through here.”

  “With Bobby?”

  “Among other things.”

  She stopped playing with his chest hair, nearly stopped breathing. “What other things?”

  “You.”

  His fingers came under her chin and urged her to look at him. “I don’t know where this is going,” he said softly. “I care a lot about you, more than I’ve ever cared for any woman. But I’ve got a lot more questions than answers right now. About Bobby, me, you, everything. I don’t know who I am anymore, Kate.”

  She reached over and touched his cheek with her fingers. “I do. You’re a good man, Captain Marvel. Maybe you aren’t comfortable with that, but I know it’s true. I want you to understand something. I see you. I do. All of it.”

  “And here you are.”

  “And here I am.”

  Chapter 12

  T. J. stood under the hot shower. For once, he didn’t try to rush. Kate had already washed up and the kids would just have to deal with the cold water. He closed his eyes and thought about last night. About what the hell he was doing.

  Kate was in love with him. He knew it as surely as he knew he didn’t know what to do about it. She hadn’t said the words, but that didn’t matter. She’d given herself to him. Opened herself up to rejection, to pain—the kind of pain he was an expert in. Giving, not getting.

  His thoughts turned to other women in his life. Sandra, Debbi, Caroline. They’d all been good people, nice. They’d each offered him a future and a home and he’d run like hell.

  It hadn’t been hard to make those decisions, there hadn’t been a moment’s hesitation. The police department was his family, his apartment the only home he needed. The thought of having a child scared the hell out of him. What did he know about raising a kid? His role models hadn’t been Ozzie and Harriet, Look how well he was handling Bobby and he wasn’t even his father.

  Everything he knew about life, about how things worked, told him that family patterns were nearly impossible to break. How many times had he watched some poor schmuck cry his eyes out after he’d smacked his kid around. If he had a dollar for every time he’d heard “I swore I’d never hit my kids” he would be a rich man by now.

  It was easy to pretend that everything with Kate would be different. But he knew better. There was no pressure here, at least not the kind that led to abuse. No long nights filled with crying babies, where sleep was forgotten and tempers flared. No day after day of the same four walls, the same discussions, the same person across the table. Loving her wasn’t hard. It wasn’t real.

  His beat, homicide, that was real. Ninety percent of all murders were committed by a loved one. Those were some kind of odds.

  He picked up the shampoo and the fragrance made him think of Kate. In his bed, in his arms. He didn’t want to remember that, or wrestle with the fact that something had happened last night that he couldn’t explain. Sex had never been like that before. All those women for all those years had been shadowboxing. There had always been a part of his mind outside, observing, keeping him from feeling. Ready to run.

  Kate had stripped away that safety net. For the first time in his life, he’d felt complete. It scared the hell out of him.

  “Love the outfit,” Molly said, staring fixedly at Kate’s feet. “It’s a new look for you, isn’t it?”

  Kate followed her gaze. She had on one white sock and one yellow sock. Her face filled with a rush of heat. “I was, uh, distracted this morning.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  She looked up at Molly’s insinuating tone. “What is that. supposed to mean?”

  Molly picked up her big cup and held it in front of her mouth. “Nothing.”

  Kate knew she was grinning, that Molly suspected the worst. Had T.J. been too loud last night? Did Peter know? Bobby? What had she been thinking? Was she insane?

  “It’s not just the socks,” Molly said.

  Kate touched her cheek with her fingertips. How could it show? Was she blushing differently?

  “Cold,” Molly said. “Ice-cold.”

  Kate moved her hands to her throat. Had he given her a hickey?

  “Warmer.”

  “What? Just tell me already!”

  Molly laughed, spilling coffee all over her lap. “Your T-shirt,” she said, grabbing for a napkin. “Look at it.”

  Kate looked down. She saw nothing remarkable. It was just a white crew neck T-shirt, the same one she wore at least once a week. There were no big stains, no rips or tears.

  “Some of us like to wear the tags on the inside,” Molly said.

  Kate saw it now. The shirt was inside out. It wasn’t possible to blush any harder. She’d reached maximum redness. “I like it this way.”

  “Yeah, uh-huh. And did we practice safe sex?”

  “Cut it out, Molly,” Kate said, turning back to the sink.

  “Hey, I think it’s great.”

  “What’s great?”

  Kate heard Peter and groaned inwardly. There was no way Molly was going to keep quiet about this.

  “Check out Kate’s fashion statement,” Molly said.

  Kate grabbed a bagel and a knife, not sure whether to slice the bread or stab her assistant.

  “Holy underwear, Batman,” Peter said. “Somebody got laid.”

  “Peter!” Kate spun around, the knife feeling better and better in her hand.

  His grin broadened. “Don’t look at me. I’m a damn monk. I’m just glad you kids finally got it out of your system.”

  “Stop it!” Kate slammed the knife down on the counter. “Stop it, both of you.”

  Molly batted her lashes. “What do you mean?”

  “Fine. We had sex, okay? Not that it’s anyone’s business. But we did it. Happy now? Nothing’s changed, got it? Nothing.”

  “Why Kate,” Molly sa
id. “I’m surprised at you. Such a private matter.”

  “I’m stunned,” Peter said. “I never would have guessed.”

  “Look,” she said. “My life is just the way I want it, okay? I’m happy just the way I am. I’m not in love. I don’t do love. It only screws things up. Besides, he’s going home. He’s going back to his life and I’m going back to mine and I wish to hell you people would mind your own business.”

  “You don’t do love?” Molly said, arching her eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that I have no intention of becoming a lovesick puppy.” Kate sighed. This was not going well. “Not that you shouldn’t. Fall in love I mean. I think it’s a good thing, a noble institution.”

  “But not for you, huh?” Molly’s voice had softened. There was a trace of pity in it that Kate couldn’t abide.

  “That’s right. It’s no tragedy. I’ve tried it. It just didn’t work out. Just like some people aren’t good at sports or are tone deaf. Don’t look at me like that. I haven’t got a problem with it, so you can just get that sorrowful little frown off your face. Don’t you have work to do?”

  “Kate,” Molly said. “With all due respect, you’re full of sh—”

  “Morning.”

  Kate jerked her gaze to the door. T.J. stood there looking as if he’d been there awhile. What had he heard?

  T.J. looked from Kate to Molly, his expression giving nothing away. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said.

  Molly grinned wickedly. “Way to go, Captain.”

  “Molly,” Kate said, glaring for all she was worth. “Don’t you dare—”

  “What’d I do?” He sounded innocent enough, but Kate didn’t buy it. He’d heard.

  “Nothing. Not a thing.” Molly didn’t look up, didn’t blink an eye. She took another sip of coffee, then turned to Peter. “I had the weirdest dream last night. All about a train going into a tunnel.”

  “Oh, man. I hate that. I had a strange one, too. Snakes. Lots of ’em. Big slimy snakes.” He gave an exaggerated shudder.

  “Really?” T.J. pulled out his chair and sat down.

  Molly stood up and walked to the fridge. “National Geographic special on tonight, Pete. About volcanic eruptions. You know, all that lava and hot air?”

  “Hey, maybe we can pop the cork on some champagne while we watch.”

  T.J. shook his head. “You two need round-the-clock care. A whole team of psychiatrists.”

  Kate held her breath, hoping, praying that Molly and Peter would let it go.

  Leave. Vanish.

  “News flash, Captain,” Molly said. “From radio station DUH. We’re not the ones who have our heads in the sand. We’ve known for weeks you guys had the hots for each other. It’s all perfectly natural. There’s no reason to get all huffy about it.”

  “Huffy?” He stood then, his gaze shifting between Molly, Peter and Kate. “I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about. And I’ve never been huffy a day in my life.” He shook his head. “Huffy. Humph.”

  “Yeah, right.” Molly walked next to him and patted him gently on the back. “Just don’t listen to her bull, okay? She talks the talk, but she don’t walk the walk.”

  “As enjoyable as this has been,” Peter said, “I’ve got to get the room ready for the monsters.” He walked toward the door, grabbing Molly’s hand as he went. “Come on, Beavis. You’ve caused enough havoc for one day.”

  “Beavis?” she said, following him out the door. “You know who that makes you, don’t you?”

  Kate stared after them for a long while. She couldn’t make herself look at T.J. She would kill that girl. Then she would kill Peter and go back and kill Molly again.

  “Think they might have guessed?” T.J. asked, the sarcasm dripping.

  Her head fell forward into her hands. “Is it too late to join a convent?”

  “After last night? Oh, yeah.”

  “What did you hear?” She spread two fingers and peeked at him.

  “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

  She relaxed and brought her hands down.

  “Not that I believed any of it.”

  “Oh?”

  He shook his head as he walked toward her. Something about his gaze made her step back.

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Look at me like that.”

  “Now you’re sounding like Molly.”

  “Fine. Don’t look at me like that, Captain.”

  “I must say, I don’t think I’ve ever done this to a woman before.”

  She backed up farther and hit the counter. “What?”

  “Turned her inside out.”

  Kate looked down at her T-shirt again. “This? Oh, please. Just because I—”

  He took another step. Close enough for her to feel his sweet breath on her face. Close enough for the heat of his body to warm her to the bone.

  The moment his lips touched hers, all of the sensations from last night rushed through her, as if the kiss had opened the floodgates. Her arms went around his neck of their own accord. Her insides grew moist and her knees weak. Coherent thought disappeared and in its stead came a hunger for this man, this kiss. For more.

  His hands moved down her back, pressing her closer, tighter. The sway of his hips provoked her into readiness. But more than that, his taste, his smell, the feel of him was a hypnotic drug that took her balance and her senses.

  “Wait,” she said, breaking away. “Stop.”

  “Why?” His voice had gone all gruff and throaty.

  “We can’t. I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. The cat’s out of the bag, Kate. They know.”

  “This has nothing to do with them.” She put her hands on his chest, then slipped sideways, out of his embrace.

  “Then why?”

  “Because it’s not appropriate.”

  “We’re over eighteen.”

  “Knock it off, T.J. You know what I’m saying.”

  “That last night didn’t matter?”

  “Of course it mattered. But it was a one-time phenomenon. We both had a lot of angst to get out of our systems. It was completely understandable that it manifested physically. But we’re both intelligent adults who can curb that predilection. And we must.”

  “Thank you, Sybil. Can I speak to Kate now?”

  She sighed, taking another step away from him. “Okay. It was a one-night stand, T.J. We were both hot to trot and we wound up between the sheets. It was great. Wonderful. And the only event of its kind.”

  He grinned at her. That wasn’t the effect she was going for.

  “I’m serious: ”

  “I know.”

  “Then why the hell are you grinning like that?”

  “You snore.”

  “What?”

  “You do. lt’s pretty cute though. Not a window-rattler or anything like that. Just this soft little snort every once in a while.”

  She looked him over, from head to toe. He looked like a normal man. With his combed hair, his clean, neat shorts and T-shirt. He had even managed to find a matching pair of socks. But it was quite clear he was totally insane.

  “And you mumble, too. I couldn’t make out the words, but I’m pretty sure you were talking about me.”

  “What does this have to do with anything?”

  His smile broadened. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the fridge, somehow managing to infuriate her with his stance alone.

  “Well?”

  “Don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. We both know this was more than a quickie. Something happened last night. I was there, remember? I don’t know what we’re in for, but there’s no way it’s not going to happen again. Not while we’re both under the same roof.”

  “Then what? We shake hands and say goodbye? You go your way, I go mine?”

  He nodded. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You don’t do love, remember?”

  She couldn’t seem to swallow. Or look
him in the eye. “The kids will be here any minute. I need to get ready.” Before he had a chance to say another word, she was out of there.

  T.J. went on the morning run, but the old competitive spirit wasn’t in full gear. Kate ran like the wind, leaving them all in the dust and he stayed with the herd. Well, slightly apart from them. He needed to think. Why had he baited her like that? She’d given him the perfect opportunity to bow out gracefully and instead he’d jumped in with both feet.

  A horrible thought niggled at him. He held it at bay as they crossed the street to the pier. But once he was on the sand, running past the pilings where his dagger hung like an old master, he gave in.

  He’d egged her on because of his ego. He couldn’t stand the thought that she found him so dismissable. How could she have gone through what he had last night and been so Willing to chalk it up to a one-night stand? He knew one-night stands and damn it, that wasn’t one.

  He’d been so sure she was in love with him, that she’d press for a relationship, a commitment. And then she says she doesn’t do love. What the hell did that mean, anyway?

  His leg muscles ached from running in the soft sand. It would be a lot easier to move over a few feet to the wet sand, but somehow this morning, the pain worked. He wanted to hurt, to keep his brain busy with that. Once again, Kate had managed to mess him up but good. What was he supposed to do now?

  His question was answered as soon as he rounded the corner to the center. A police car, bubble light circling, was parked in front and every kid who hadn’t been on the run stood gawking. They were here for Bobby. He knew it with a certainty that was physical.

  T.J. urged his body to move faster, but by the time he got to the center he was walking. The crowd parted for him as if he were Moses. The kids that had been so friendly just yesterday, talking, joking, laughing, stared at him with saucer eyes. He was used to that look. The bystander stare, he called it. As if the murder or robbery or accident created a shield, like a television screen, between the participants and observers. The rules of etiquette no longer applied. The nicest people turned into insensitive jerks. As if their voices didn’t carry, didn’t wound.

  Bobby, flanked on either side by uniformed officers, came outside. He looked too young to T.J., like a nine-year-old. A child. His kid brother. The pain set in his stomach, a great low ache. He wanted to rip the handcuffs off, beat the policemen until someone was dead. How had he ever believed Bobby could have set those fires? It was insane. The realization hit him with the force of a blow.