With One More Look At You

by Mary J. Williams

  "I'm scared, Dandi. Whether it was a prank or something more serious, I refuse to let anybody paralyze me with fear."

  Dandi wagged her tail. Wise, adoring eyes seemed to say the dog was on Sophie's side—no matter what.

  "Women power," Sophie nodded.

  As Sophie drove down the road, she kept one hand on the steering wheel and one on Dandi's head. Already, her thoughts had veered away from her personal problems to the Appaloosa waiting for her at the barn. The owner purchased the horse as a gift for his daughter's eleventh birthday. If Sophie didn't work her magic, who knew what would happen to the animal. She had one month to turn the animal from skittish to friendly.

  So far, Sophie had a perfect record. But this wasn't about her ego. The horse's future was in her hands. Failure wasn't an option.

  "HAVE YOU CONSIDERED moving into your father's old bedroom?"

  "No." Starting to lag from lack of sleep, Forbes poured himself another cup of coffee. With the long day he had ahead of him, the more caffeine he pumped into his system, the better. Taking a drink, he looked at Maeve. "Dad shared that room with Joy. An exorcism and a ton of burned sage wouldn't get me to set foot in there."

  "It's just a thought." With her back to him, Maeve returned a plate to the cupboard. "It might be better if…"

  "If? Something's bothering you, Maeve."

  Setting down the dishtowel, Maeve turned to face him.

  "Sophie touched your hand. Not a big deal unless you've known her as long as I have. She's more affectionate than she used to be, but not when other people are around."

  "You're making more of it than you should."

  "Perhaps. Except, I saw the way you looked at her. It hadn't occurred to me before. But now, I think a little separation wouldn't hurt."

  If it weren't for Maeve's earnest expression, Forbes would have laughed.

  "Sophie and I were always in the same wing—just down the hall from each other. It didn't seem to bother you when we were teenagers."

  "Sophie was a child in so many ways. That's how you thought of her. But she's grown up. Unlike then, mentally and physically, she's on the same level. And you've noticed."

  Forbes couldn't argue. When he looked at Sophie, he saw a beautiful, desirable woman. It was only natural for his thoughts—and body—to respond accordingly.

  "We live under the same roof. If Sophie and I want to…" Forbes felt odd discussing sex with Maeve, so he shrugged. "The point is that my moving to the other side of the house won't make any difference."

  "I know that. But…"

  Teasing, Forbes winked. "Whose virtue are you worried about? Mine or Sophie's?"

  "Honestly." Maeve put her hands on her curvy hips. "Virtue has nothing to do with it. Though you lost yours long before it was seemly. That's right," she said when Forbes showed his surprise. "I know everything that goes on in this house. As did your father. If he was fine with you sneaking girls into your room, it wasn't my place to say anything."

  Looking away, Forbes rubbed the back of his neck. Wondering if his father and Maeve had known was one thing. Having proof positive to the affirmative was something else altogether. He was embarrassed as much as… Fine. He was embarrassed. Almost thirty years old and he felt like a kid caught with a stash of dirty magazines. Only his centerfolds had been flesh and blood.

  "However, that has nothing to do with you and Sophie. You're adults. I wouldn't dream of telling you how to live your lives."

  "But…?" Forbes knew one was coming.

  "If you act on this attraction, what then? Have you given any thought to what happens if it doesn't work out? I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt Sophie. Nor she you." Maeve's expression softened. "Sophie is happy. She's found her place."

  "I know that."

  "I hope that you're home for good?"

  "Yes," Forbes said emphatically.

  "Then my advice is to take a step back and really think about what you want. Is it Sophie? Or is she simply an itch that needs scratching?"

  Maeve held Forbes' gaze for several beats. With a sharp nod of her head—a signal that she had said what needed saying—she walked out of the kitchen, leaving him to his thoughts.

  As far as Forbes was concerned, Maeve's words didn't change anything. Yes, he wanted Sophie. That was a given, and it wasn't going away. But it wasn't an itch. That implied something easily taken care of and quickly forgotten. Sophie was neither. She never had been. Never would be.

  Still, Forbes needed to take Sophie's feelings into account. This attraction was new on both sides. What he wanted—now and in the future—might not be the same for her. The idea brought him up short. He had never worried about it before. A one or two-night stand between consenting, properly protected adults had been his M.O. for longer than he cared to remember. Now that he wanted more, wouldn't it be ironic if Sophie thought of him as nothing but an itch?

  "SOMEBODY BUSTED THE lights, boss."

  "Excuse me?" Forbes' hearing was excellent, but he couldn't believe what Drysdale told him. "Somebody broke our practically indestructible, expensive-as-hell flood lights?"

  Ian Drysdale was a man of medium height—a half-foot shorter than Forbes. But he was strong with arms like bulging steel. He wore his hair military short, never changing the style after leaving the Marine Corp.

  Forbes and the security guard/bodyguard/ex-soldier/tech expert stood inside the shed that had been set up as command central. About ten yards from the horse stalls, the equipment monitored all the buildings from the main house to the bunkhouse, to the corrals, storage sheds, and hay barns. Not to mention the surrounding fields. They had a cot in the back for a quick nap, a fully stocked refrigerator, plus a coffee pot that never ran dry. At the moment, a newly arrived addition to the team—Moncrieff's replacement—made the rounds, his movements easy to trace on one of the monitors.

  Drysdale showed Forbes the box filled with chunks of glass. "This is what's left of the four floods that we had placed at the front of the house."

  Forbes shook his head. "Great. Just fucking great."

  "I think I know how it happened," Drysdale, said, his expression grim.

  "Well," Forbes urged. "Don't leave me in suspense."

  "I haven't been able to contact Moncrieff. He dropped Pike at the emergency room three hours ago. Since then, he's been off the grid."

  "You checked his phone?" Modern technology made tracing a person's whereabouts ridiculously easy.

  "One of our guys found it in a garbage can outside a gas station on the outskirts of Spokane. I can't find any record of Moncrieff using a credit card. My guess is he filled up his tank and paid with cash."

  "What about the SUV?" The car was owned by the company, which meant it—like all their vehicles—was equipped with a tracker.

  "Dumped—just like the phone. This time at a truck stop about fifty miles south of the city. We have ears and eyes all over, boss. We'll find him."

  Maybe. Forbes hadn't personally trained Moncrieff, but he had a big hand in the curriculum. He and his partners were rigorous in their efforts to hire only the best. Either a recruit passed the program with flying colors, or they didn't pass at all. Moncrieff had been one of their best. Until now, Forbes would have sworn he was loyal.

  "If he slips up, we'll get him. Otherwise…" It pissed Forbes off too much to think about. "If Moncrieff is behind this, there must be a good reason. What was going on with him?"

  "Money problems," Drysdale stated, his face deadpan. But anger burned in his eyes. A member of his team had gone rogue, and it didn't sit well.

  "Gambling?"

  "Ex-wife and three kids. Plus, his new girlfriend has expensive tastes."

  They paid their people well. Very well. However, a salary—no matter the size—only went so far. Moncrieff had decided to play above his means, and now they all paid the price.

  "You should have told me." Drysdale shrugged, and Forbes growled. "I know. Brothers in arms. I'm all f
or it, Ian. Up to a point. You don't have to rat out your buddies over every little bump. But this was a potential fucking sink hole. If anything had happened to Sophie—" Forbes took a deep breath, refusing to fill his head with images of something that hadn't happened. "You'd be out on your ass, and I'd personally run Moncrieff to the ground."

  "I've met Ms. Lipton. I'd be right by your side.

  "You have a job to do." Forbes shot Drysdale a warning look. "Sophie is not a perk. Understood?"

  "I get it," Drysdale nodded. His expression remained stoic, but his lips twitched—just a little. "There's no rule against admiring the view."

  Briefly, Forbes considered the possibility. Deciding it would be impossible to police, he reluctantly let the idea pass.

  "If Moncrieff took a bribe, there has to be a trail."

  "Already on it, boss. If I can't find the money, Renly will."

  Drysdale was right. When it came to his computer skills, Silas Renly was a legend. He was Forbes' business partner and someone to be trusted without question. If Moncrieff let off the slightest cyber ping, Renly would find it.

  "Keep me posted." Halfway out the door, Forbes hesitated. "And Drysdale?"

  "Boss?"

  "This should go without saying. But tell the rest of the men. Sophie is off limits."

  Drysdale didn't laugh often. Not unless he found something off-the-charts funny. It seemed Forbes' warning qualified.

  "I didn't mean it as a joke," Forbes muttered.

  "Sophie Lipton must be something if the mighty Branson has fallen," Drysdale said, still grinning.

  "This isn't about me." Of course it was, but Forbes wasn't about to admit it. When Drysdale snorted, he kept walking. "Tell the men to do their jobs, that's all."

  Slamming the door, Forbes took his sunglasses from his pocket. The mighty Branson hadn't fallen. However, it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge. A few words from Sophie—the right words—and he had the feeling he would tumble willingly. Enthusiastically.

  Funny. Forbes had yet to kiss Sophie. Not a real, I mean it, mutually consensual, adult kiss. They had circled each other for the past week with a sense of growing attraction. And need. He couldn't forget his body's constant reminder of how much he wanted Sophie. Yet, the non-physical side of their relationship occupied his mind as much as wanting to feel her naked body next to his.

  How did that saying go? Women learned to desire the men they loved. Men learned to love the women they desired. Or something like that. The point was that Forbes always bought into the idea. From a man's point of view, it made sense. Sophie—beautiful, funny, thick-skinned, marshmallow-hearted, Sophie—had turned the notion on its head. In a way, he had always loved her. The desire had come much later.

  Forbes checked his watch. He didn't have time for daydreaming. Jumping in his truck, he aimed the vehicle north.

  The problems on the ranch weren't Forbes' only responsibilities. Though he was just a phone call away, as chief of police, he wanted the people of Cloverdale to know he was committed to his job. For that to happen, he had to do more than occasionally show his face at the office whenever he wasn't too busy with something else.

  Hitting a button, Forbes told the in-dash computer to call the station.

  "Chief."

  "I'll be there in thirty minutes. Anything I should know?"

  "The evidence from the ranch has been bagged, tagged, and sent to the lab. There have been a few minor instances around town. Nothing out of the ordinary."

  "Have the reports on my desk." When his stomach rumbled, Forbes realized he hadn't eaten since breakfast. "Is Rick's Diner still around?"

  "Going strong. Thursday is meatloaf and mashed potato day."

  The road ahead was flat and clear for the next few miles. Swearing he could smell the meat and gravy, Forbes hit the gas.

  "Add another thirty minutes to my ETA. I haven't eaten lunch, and that meatloaf is calling my name."

  "Roger that, Chief. You won't be sorry. And if there's any left, don't pass up on the blackberry cobbler. If you want, I can call over and have them save you some. I know the cook personally."

  "Girlfriend?"

  Ollie paused. "Boyfriend. Is that a problem?"

  "Not on my watch. Make that call. I'm a big fan of blackberries."

  "Will do. Thank you, Chief. Drive safe."

  Smiling, Forbes ended the call. They lived in a different world. Some of the changes were good. Some, not so much. However, the change in attitude concerning a person's sexuality swung way onto the good side. He imagined Ollie and his boyfriend received their share of crap. But not from him. If anybody else in the department had a problem, they damn well better keep it to themselves.

  AS SOPHIE LAY awake, listening, she felt like she was fifteen again. Only then, instead of wondering when Forbes would return home, she had fallen asleep the second her head hit the pillow, hoping he would have the common courtesy to miss the squeaky board outside her bedroom door—for once.

  Tonight, Sophie's feelings were the opposite—in every way. She cared about Forbes' arrival. She wanted to know the second he passed her door. And she hoped that he made certain she knew. That he cared enough to put his foot on that stupid, pesky, wonderful board.

  "He fell asleep in his office, Dandi."

  Sophie rolled to her back, turning her head to look at the dog. On her bed in the corner, Dandi's response was to lift one eyelid, snort, and let out a huge sigh before going right back to sleep.

  "You're right," Sophie continued, looking at the ceiling. "Forbes has a lot on his plate. After last night, he probably thinks that sleep is at a premium around here."

  Around dinnertime, Ollie Wabash called to inform her that Forbes was sleeping soundly and had been for about an hour. Since Ollie was about to go off duty, he wondered if he should wake the chief.

  "Let him sleep," Sophie had said without having to think about it. "Tell whoever is on duty to leave him be unless there is something they can't handle on their own."

  That something came around eight thirty. Several somethings. A car was reported stolen. A fire broke out near the high school. And a fight at Smokey's Bar resulted in several arrests. Not a lot in some cities, but for Cloverdale, it was practically a crime wave. As Forbes said when he called at ten o'clock, when it rained, it poured.

  "I don't know when I'll be home. Smokey's sounds like a mess. The fire is under control, but I want to swing by and take a look. Luckily, the stolen car was found at the end of Main Street undamaged. Some kids probably took it for a joyride. That's what Mr. Greely gets for leaving his keys in the ignition."

  Sophie smiled at the exasperation in Forbes' voice. Mr. Greely taught math at the high school and had for as long as anybody could remember. "Did you tell him that?"

  "I did. Do you know what his response was?"

  It wasn't hard to guess, but Sophie let Forbes deliver the punchline.

  "No, what did he say?"

  "After he reminded me that I once received a B-minus on one of his Algebra tests, he laid into me over my lack of leadership. What kind of town are you running, Forbes Branson? I've left the keys in that car every day for thirty years. Nobody took off with it before. Then he asked why I wasn't wearing a uniform. As if that was relevant."

  "It's a fair question," Sophie said. "Why don't you wear a uniform?"

  Forbes rolled his eyes. "I wore a uniform in the Army. When I took this job, it was with the understanding that a full uniform wasn't my style. A dark-blue cotton shirt, Cloverdale P.D. insignia on the sleeve. It should arrive tomorrow."

  "Okay," Sophie nodded. Satisfied with Forbes' answer, she shifted back to the original topic. "I like Mr. Greely. He was very helpful when math was still my enemy."

  Mr. Greely had taken the time to help Sophie. As a result, she had the confidence to take calculus during her senior year. And passed the class with a solid B average.

  "I liked him, too. Still do." Forbes chuck
led. "I saw a definite twinkle in the old coot's eyes while he bawled me out."

  "Call me before you leave for home."

  "It's going to be well after midnight. If you have any trouble—anything, Sophie—buzz Drysdale."

  "I will," Sophie promised. It was nice that Forbes had called. Nice to know she was in his thoughts. "Call me."

  "Okay."

  Forbes had been right about the time. He called at half past two, letting Sophie know he was on his way. He sounded worn out.

  "Are you sure you're up for driving?" Sophie asked. If there was any chance of him falling asleep at the wheel, he should stay in Cloverdale.

  "I'm fine," Forbes assured her. "Tomorrow is my day off. I don't want to start it in my office on that lumpy old couch."

  Sophie understood his point. However, it didn't stop her from worrying.

  "Roll down your truck windows and play some music. Something loud. With plenty of percussions."

  "How about the 1812 Overture?" She heard a teasing note in Forbes' voice.

  "Perfect."

  Laughing, Forbes hung up. That had been almost thirty minutes earlier. Sophie would give him another ten. If he weren't home by then, she would go out looking for him.

  Sophie sat up. She hadn't heard a squeak, but the sound of Forbes deliberately avoiding the board so he wouldn't wake her. Honestly. Did the man think she would sleep a wink until she knew he was safe, sound, and in his own bed? Apparently not.

  With a sigh, Sophie padded across the room, opening the door to the hall.

  "We have to stop meeting like this."

  Forbes' head fell forward. Without turning, he looked at her over his shoulder.

  "Nice line. What movie is it from?"

  "Dozens." Sophie kept walking until she stood in front of him. "Most were in black and white. Maybe Bette Davis? Definitely Myrna Loy."

  Up close, Forbes looked worse than he sounded. Not merely tired. He was ready to drop.

  "How did that 1812 Overture work for you?" Turning the doorknob, Sophie took Forbes by the arm, leading him into his room.