The Man Behind the Badge

by Sharon Archer

  ‘Okay, that seems straightforward. I’ll just get you to read through this and sign if you’re happy with what it says.’

  ‘Okay.’ She took the pages. The short, terse sentences in his powerful, energetic script seemed to leap off the paper at her. She blinked and forced herself to concentrate. ‘I just sign at the bottom?’

  ‘Yes. You can use my pen.’

  The pen was still warm from his fingers. She leaned the paper on the edge of the desk to scrawl her signature then handed the papers back to him.

  ‘So that’s it?’

  ‘Pretty much.’ He looked at her. ‘How about a coffee?’

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Yes. I wouldn’t expect you to drink the station coffee if that’s what you’re worried about.’ He smiled but his eyes were dark, unreadable.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure it couldn’t be as bad as hospital coffee.’ She stopped, bit her lip. He’d think she wanted to stay for coffee in a minute. ‘Thank you, but, no. I need to get on the road. I’ve got a long drive.’

  ‘Going to Melbourne for the weekend?’

  ‘Yes.’ She gathered up her belongings and decided she’d get her car keys out when she got to her car.

  His face was perfectly calm but there was an acuteness about the way he looked at her that made her wonder what he was thinking. Perhaps all policemen cultivated that impression of predatory patience. Waiting to see what might be revealed if they waited long enough. ‘Visiting family?’

  ‘Yes. No. Sort of.’ Her fingers tightened on her bag.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  She opened her mouth then shut it. He couldn’t possibly be interested in knowing this was her best friend’s last weekend in Melbourne before she returned to the far-flung reaches of North West Australia.

  His curiosity was a policeman’s ingrained habit and she was like Pavlov’s dog. A steady stare from an imposing male wearing dark blue epaulettes and it seemed she was still ready to rush into explanations. Her father had trained her well.

  Growing up, she’d tried to tell herself it was a sign of his affection that had made him grill her and her sister. But she’d slowly realised it was an uncanny ability to sniff out the tiniest hint of trouble or rebellion.

  A fantastic ability in a policeman.

  Utterly crushing in a distant, regimented father.

  In the end, she’d realised he’d been determined to crush any tendency his daughters might have harboured towards behaving like normal teenagers. Christopher Morgan had been a man with places to go, in line for promotions. No time for messy family dramas and misbehaviour. No taint of gossip would touch him through his family.

  She suddenly realised she’d been sitting in the sergeant’s office for far too long, staring back at him. She shot out of the chair. ‘Well, I won’t let you keep me.’

  ‘Won’t you?’ He stood more slowly, his eyes hooded, a faint smile on his mouth.

  She felt the heat rush into her cheeks when she realised what she’d said. ‘I mean, I won’t keep you.’

  He inclined his head. ‘I’ll walk you out.’

  ‘There’s no need. I can find my own way. Thank you, Sergeant.’

  ‘Tom.’ His fingers fastened around her arm.

  She looked at him blankly, her mind consumed by his touch on the tender skin of her inner elbow.

  ‘My name is Tom.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Of course.’ She looked at him helplessly.

  ‘Say it, Kayla.’

  She swallowed. The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. Almost as though he was tasting the syllables, trying out the feel of it in his mouth. At the L-sound, she’d been able to see the tip of his tongue touch the edge of his top teeth.

  ‘Say it,’ he repeated when she remained silent.

  ‘Tom.’ Her throat had difficulty making the sound and it came out raw and husky. She’d worked so hard not to even think of him by his name, and now he’d made her say it. She felt something akin to despair. Now he was real, now he was a man, not a uniform.

  He nodded. ‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

  He opened his office door and ushered her across to the exit with that gentle but inexorable hold. Her feet moved her along beside him, across the veranda, down the steps to the side of her car. His fingers slid lightly across her elbow joint and finally released her.

  He waited while she fumbled in her bag to find her keys to unlock the door. Then he leaned forward to open it for her. ‘Drive carefully, Kayla. See you when you get back next week.’

  Not if she saw him first. She slipped into the seat and managed to slide the key into the ignition.

  ‘Bye, S—’ She gulped the rest of the word when his eyes narrowed. ‘Goodbye, Tom.’

  He towered in the opening, one hand on the roof and the other on the door, as though he might say something more. But in the end all he said was, ‘Bye, Kayla.’

  He stepped back and shut the door gently.

  As she stopped in the driveway to check the way was clear, she caught sight of him in her rear-vision mirror.

  Thank goodness she drove an automatic car. It would just be the last straw to grind the gears or bunny-hop out onto the road under his watchful eye.

  She didn’t quite know what to make of Tom Jamieson.

  But one thing was certain: he was a serious handicap to her enjoyment of Dustin.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  FROM his position in the corridor just outside the hospital cafeteria, Tom watched Kayla through the glass window and listened with half an ear to his sister’s plans for the coming weekend. Kayla turned from the counter and threaded her way through the tables.

  ‘Tom!’

  ‘What?’ He looked down at his sister’s indignant features.

  ‘You haven’t heard a thing I’ve said, have you?’

  He arched an eyebrow. ‘Mum’s still jet-lagged after travelling back from England on Tuesday and you’re concerned about her overdoing it at the barbecue on Saturday night,’ he said smugly and glanced back into the cafeteria as he spoke. Kayla had selected a seat by the window. ‘You’ve arranged for Dad to get the meat and everyone else to bring salads and sweets.’ He looked back at Charlotte, who gave him a narrow-eyed glare. ‘Am I right?’

  ‘Do you know how irritating it is when you can do that?’

  ‘What? Prove I’ve been listening?’

  ‘Mmm.’ She craned her neck to look into the cafeteria. Tom had an overwhelming urge to block her line of sight to Kayla. ‘What’s so interesting anyway?’

  He was saved from answering by the piercing beep of Charlotte’s pager. ‘Damn. Got to run. See you on Saturday night, then.’

  ‘Sure thing.’

  Thankful for the narrow escape, he pushed open the door and headed towards Kayla. A moment later, her head came up, eyes darting around the room as though she’d sensed imminent danger. No mistaking the dismay on her face as her gaze settled on him. He suppressed a sigh. Nothing had changed—he was a sucker for punishment. Continuing towards her, he set his mouth in a grim smile. Her instinctive intention to bolt was plain. He wondered for a moment if he’d get some early cutting practice for the weekend camp draft—perversely, the thought made his smile broaden. Kayla sank back in her chair—he could practically see each muscle relax as she realised that flight was not an option.

  She’d managed to avoid him for a couple of days, once in the supermarket and the other time at the library. And she hadn’t returned the message he’d left her but that wasn’t a surprise because he’d made it clear the message was private, not official. Perhaps he’d have to resort to something official to get a response.

  A roadworthy check, a breathalyser set up outside the hospital just for a chance to talk to her. She was reducing him to a sad state.

  But not today.

  He tightened his grip on the bag he carried. Today, he had a cast-iron reason to see her. And plenty of time, too, since he knew she’d only just started her lunch break.

  He stoppe
d beside her table. ‘Kayla.’

  ‘Sergeant.’

  He let that slide as he pulled out the chair on the diagonal from her and sat down, setting the bag on the floor. ‘You’re a hard woman to pin down.’

  Her brows arched over darkly lashed grey eyes. ‘I wasn’t aware that I needed pinning.’

  A glorious procession of X-rated images sprang unhelpfully into his mind and he could feel an unfamiliar warmth mushrooming in his face.

  Hell, he was blushing.

  He never blushed.

  ‘You don’t…er…need pinning.’ He coughed to clear the huskiness from his vocal cords, all the while aware of her faintly perplexed expression. ‘I’ve been trying to catch up with you.’

  ‘I know. I got your message but it didn’t seem urgent. Is there a problem with my statement about the accident?’

  ‘Nope. No problem with that.’

  ‘Good.’ Her soft mouth pursed briefly and then she made a production of looking at her watch. ‘I really should be getting…’

  She trailed off as the cafeteria owner slipped a plate in front of her and then a cup of coffee. Tom stifled an urge to laugh at the comical look of guilt on her face.

  ‘Hey, Tom,’ said the woman with a smile. ‘Can I get you anything?’

  ‘A coffee would be great.’

  ‘Black, no sugar, coming right up.’

  He turned back to look at Kayla. ‘Tsk, don’t you know it’s bad form to lie to a policeman?’

  A strange spasm crossed her face. Pain? Then she lowered her eyes. ‘Yeah, I do, as it happens.’

  His interest sharpened but he left the questions unasked. Instead, he filed her response away with all the other things he wanted to know about her.

  ‘I’ll let you off this time.’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’ The sarcasm was unmistakeable as she lifted her eyes back to his.

  He frowned and let his gaze roam over her face, watched with interest as she fidgeted and a tinge of pink crept into her cheeks. ‘You know, if I was a suspicious man, I’d think you were avoiding me.’

  She tilted her head to give him a considering look. The corner of her mouth crimped for a moment and then she said, ‘You’re a policeman. Suspicion is in your job description.’

  ‘Okay. Good point,’ he said, biting back the laugh that threatened. She had a quick wit and he was damned if bandying words with her wasn’t wickedly good fun. Hoping to provoke another exchange, he reached over and snagged a chip off her plate. ‘Eat up. Don’t mind me, I’ve already eaten.’

  ‘Not enough by the look of it,’ she said as he blew on the chip.

  ‘Always room for a chip or two.’ He popped it in his mouth.

  ‘In that case, do feel free to help yourself,’ she said, her tone withering as she picked up her knife and fork.

  He grinned and grabbed another. ‘I hear you’re going to the camp draft this weekend.’

  She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Yes. I am.’ She sounded reluctant to part with the details.

  ‘With Liz and Jack?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Looking forward to it?’ he said, making a mental note to check with Jack to see if they intended to stay out at the grounds over the weekend. They did usually but with Liz being pregnant they might opt for the comfort of home and just drive out during the day.

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be interesting.’ She pushed the grilled fish around on her plate then cut a small portion off the end. ‘What was it you wanted to see me about?’

  ‘I’ve got some gear for you from Penny. Boots and a hat.’

  ‘Oh. I was going to pick it up from her tonight.’

  He shrugged. ‘I was coming this way so I offered to drop it off to you.’ Which was a long way from the truth. He’d practically had to prise the bag out of his confused constable’s fingers.

  ‘Thanks.’ She laid the knife and fork on her plate.

  ‘My pleasure.’ He looked at her substantially untouched food and frowned. ‘Not hungry? You should eat more. There’s nothing of you.’

  More colour flooded into her cheeks and the grey eyes sparkled with irritation. ‘Thank you for that professional assessment, Sergeant.’

  ‘Tom. And it’s not a complaint. What there is of you is a very nice package.’ He knew he was out of line but something about seeing her mouth open in a perfect oval of outrage was irresistible. Baiting her like this was probably doing little to help his cause, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. ‘I wouldn’t like to see you fade away while you’re in Dustin.’

  ‘Highly unlikely.’ She gave him a fulminating glare from stormy grey eyes. ‘Unless you’re going to make a habit of dropping by to pilfer my lunch.’

  ‘If that’s an invitation, I accept.’

  ‘It’s not.’

  ‘Shame. Well, much as I’d love to, I can’t stay and chat. There’s work to be done.’ He pushed himself to his feet and lifted the bag onto the chair. ‘Your accessories for the weekend. See you, Kayla.’

  Not waiting for an answer, he walked towards the exit. A quick glance in the mirrored glass on the wall showed Kayla watching him leave. Perhaps he should check his shirt for scorch marks when he got back to the station.

  He suppressed a grin. At least he could get under her skin. Not his first choice of reactions but it did mean she wasn’t completely indifferent to him.

  What had that been all about?

  Kayla frowned. Since the accident, she seemed to have had more to do with Tom Jamieson than for the entire time she’d been in Dustin prior to that.

  She watched the door shut behind him then shifted her gaze to the bag on the chair beside her.

  The knots in her stomach unravelled enough to allow a gurgle of hunger to escape.

  She looked back at her plate and after a moment picked up the utensils. Stupid to let good food go to waste because the sergeant was so disturbing. Doggedly chewing a mouthful, she tried to banish him from her mind by thinking about the last patient she’d seen before lunch.

  A sixty-year-old male, heavy smoker with a long-standing cough. He’d wanted a quick pass through the office and a script for antibiotics but she hadn’t liked the wheezing sounds she’d heard in his lungs on auscultation. He hadn’t liked her insistence on him having a chest X-ray.

  Kayla sighed. She seemed to be bent on annoying the men who came into her orbit today. The expression in the sergeant’s deep chocolate eyes had swung between frustration and puckish humour.

  Except for those few moments when she could swear he looked embarrassed. He didn’t strike her as the sort to be easily disconcerted. Her own system had been so jangled by his presence, she couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about.

  Her eyes slid back to the bag from Penny.

  The weekend. Would Tom be at the camp draft? Her appetite abruptly evaporated and she had to force the food down her throat.

  She reached for her coffee and took a swallow. She’d agreed to camp out at the grounds with Jack and Liz. Her first experience in a tent. She wasn’t sure if she was dreading it or looking forward to it. Either way, having Sergeant Tom Jamieson around would only complicate things. He was a hard man to ignore when he got in her face.

  She lifted her cup, then, as a sudden suspicion leapt into her mind, she froze with it halfway to her mouth. Surely he wasn’t putting himself in her way deliberately.

  No. Why would he?

  She huffed out a sigh of impatience. In a minute, she’d be chewing her fingernails or twirling a hank of hair like a fourteen-year-old anguishing over the way a boy had looked at her.

  So what if Tom Jamieson was there at the weekend. She’d just avoid him.

  Easy. Now, if only she could get him out of her thoughts.

  Picking up the fork again, she stabbed another piece of fish.

  Who’d have thought she’d get such a kick out of the camp draft? Kayla grinned. The dust, the horses, the energetic noise of it, she loved it all. The people of Dustin were putting a touch of countr
y into the city girl.

  She looked down at herself and her good humour deepened. The dusty brown cargo pants, her most casual pair of trousers, and the long-sleeved cream shirt were her own. The scuffed elastic-sided boots on her feet and the felt hat perched on the seat beside her were on loan from Penny. Mandatory fashion wear for attending a camp draft event, she’d been told. When she’d dressed to drive out here this morning, she’d been self-conscious in her unfamiliar trimmings. Now they looked just right. She almost felt like the genuine article.

  From her seat under the trees, she had a good view, although her position was on the opposite side of the arena to most of the action. People had stopped to chat through the morning and she’d gleaned helpful snippets of information.

  She knew that right now the next competitor was in the small penned area known as the camp with a group of cows… no, not plain old cows. For camp drafting, they were known as beasts.

  Tom Jamieson was judging this section of the competition. She’d lost count of the number of people who’d told her that. As if she needed to be told. Her eyes strayed again to the man on the large, sleepy-looking brown horse standing patiently beside the double gates of the camp.

  Tom.

  He sat in the saddle, loose and relaxed, with his attention on the action in the pen.

  She dragged her gaze back to the gates, which would open any moment. The selected beast would bolt through with a hopeful rider in hot pursuit. Then with skill and perhaps a dollop of luck, the animal would be persuaded to gallop a figure-eight pattern around the saplings positioned in the arena.

  The gates opened, but luck wasn’t with the competitor. His beast evaded him, darting to its left and making a beeline along the fence.

  After a few moments, the disqualification whistle sounded. Tom’s horse perked up at some invisible command and cantered forward eagerly to herd the errant bovine towards the attendants. With a feeling of despair, Kayla watched the way Tom’s body moved with the loping horse. That sinewy masculine strength moving in graceful partnership with the muscular animal beneath him appealed to a very basic corner of her psyche.