The Lawman

by Martha Shields

  With a sigh of relief, she turned on lamps in the south end of each room, then headed into the kitchen and picked up the phone. She pushed the caller ID button and whistled. “A hundred fifty-seven new calls since this morning.”

  Jake nodded toward the front. “Probably from your new fan club out there.”

  “Why didn’t you warn them against calling here, too?”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t think about it. I’ll tell them at the press conference in the morning.”

  She made a face as she clicked through the numbers, not recognizing any of them. “Another press conference? Is there anything to say?”

  “Could be by then. By the way, that phone is not hooked up to the recording equipment. When you answer the phone, you need to answer the one in your office. And you need to wait until I switch on the recorder.”

  “Okay.” Tabitha scanned through the numbers.

  “That’s important.”

  “I know. I’ll remember.” She clicked off the phone. “I’ll look through the rest later. Right now we need to get Billy settled.”

  “You stay here. I’ll get the rest of his things in.”

  She smiled. “Thanks. I wasn’t looking forward to going out there again.”

  He returned her smile and spun toward the door. “You’re welcome, kitten.”

  Her smile faded. “I’m not your kitten.”

  The only answer she received was the front door closing firmly. Heaving a disgusted sigh, she knelt by the cat carrier. “How you doing, Billy boy?”

  The cat stared at her with blank golden eyes, as if his cat spirit was somewhere else.

  She wanted to take him out and cuddle him until he was no longer frightened, but she knew that was not a cat’s way. He needed to run and hide until he felt comfortable.

  Jake opened and closed the front door, then came into the kitchen carrying everything they’d left in the car.

  “Trying to impress all the pretty female reporters?” she asked as she grabbed the sack of kitty litter from him.

  He lowered the cat food to the counter, then bent to set the sack of cat toys on the floor. “Hmm?”

  “Never mind.”

  He held up the last item, the litter box. “Where do you want this?”

  Tabitha considered every two-by-three-foot space she had available. There weren’t that many, and most of them would be inauspicious for a cat’s toilet. Finally she pointed to the closed door beside the open one leading into the center hallway. “The pantry, please.”

  He disappeared into the closet lined with shelves. “I’ll put it in here, but you have to set it up.” He came out, dusting his hands. “It’s only fair, since I had to clean it out.”

  Tabitha rolled her eyes, then grabbed the cat litter and the box of liners and quickly had the litter box back in business.

  “Do you need to show him where it is?” Jake asked.

  Tabitha went to the sink and washed her hands. “He’ll find it.”

  “Now what?”

  “We let him out.” She dried her hands and went over to the cat carrier. “Stand back. I’m just going to let him go.”

  “Will he go crazy?”

  “He’ll probably run and hide.”

  Jake nodded and took up a position on the other side of the island.

  Tabitha squatted by one side of the carrier and reached for the latch. “Okay, Billy boy. You’re officially free.”

  The door opened and nothing happened. Billy stayed put.

  Deciding he probably wouldn’t come out with her hovering, Tabitha straightened and turned to find Jake’s gaze on her, hot and intense. Surprise made her lose her balance for a split second. She steadied herself by grabbing the edge of the counter. She didn’t know what she’d done to attract his erotic attention, but she couldn’t deny the tiny thrill that made her whole body smile.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Jeez. He noticed everything. “Mmm, hmm.”

  Since she didn’t feel like explaining why she’d stumbled, she turned toward her bedroom.

  He followed. “You almost fell.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “I saw you.”

  Tabitha spun in the doorway of her bedroom to face him. “So I stumbled a little. Big deal.”

  “Why did you stumble?”

  Now she was getting irritated. “I don’t know. Why not? I guess I stood a little too fast.”

  “Ahh.” He planted his fists on his hips. “You felt faint, didn’t you?”

  “No.” To get away from him, she walked into the room and switched on the lamp beside the bed.

  He followed. “Then what was it?”

  All these questions. She wasn’t used to someone grilling her over every move she made. No one ever had. But fainting sounded better than giddy. “Okay. Maybe I felt a little faint.”

  “I knew it. You haven’t eaten enough today to keep a fly alive.”

  Concentrating more on him than what she was doing, she nearly had all the buttons of her jacket undone before she realized why she’d come into her bedroom.

  “Do you mind?” She looked over her shoulder so he couldn’t sneak a peek if her jacket gaped. “I’d like to change into something more comfortable.”

  As soon as the words were out, she wished she could take them back.

  His mind went right to the seductive meaning of the phrase. She could see it in the slight flaring of his nostrils.

  His green eyes sparkled. “By all means.”

  “I mean jeans and a T-shirt.”

  “Mmm.”

  “A big T-shirt.”

  He made no move to leave, just stared at her. Probably with visions from the Victoria’s Secret catalog flashing through his brain.

  “So get out.”

  “Oh. Right.” His face finally cleared, but showed no embarrassment or contrition. “I’ll start supper. You need some decent food in you or you’ll never make it through the next few days. Where’s the chicken you mentioned?”

  This was a new one. “You’re going to cook?”

  “I told you I could.” He seemed surprised by her surprise. “Is that a problem?”

  “Well, no. I just—” Her father hadn’t so much as boiled water for coffee.

  “Just what?”

  She rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t he ever let anything go? “Nothing. The chicken is in the fridge.”

  “I happen to be a passable cook.” Jake headed for the door, finally. “I can’t make the chicken marsala, but I’ll get the chicken ready. Is there anything to go with it?”

  “I’ve got a couple ears of sweet corn and some pole beans in the vegetable drawer of the fridge.”

  “Sounds like a feast,” he called, already in the kitchen.

  She followed to close the door. “And if you want to wash the mushrooms, they’re in there, too.”

  “Roger.”

  Tabitha frowned as she shut the door. Was he serious? Would he really help her cook? She knew there were men who loved to work in the kitchen, but she’d never known one personally. To her, they were like some mythical creature that people claimed to have seen, but you don’t really believe them. Like Bigfoot.

  That image of Jake made her smile. She’d never noticed how big his feet were. She’d have to check them out.

  Besides, she’d heard women say that the size of men’s feet indicated the size of their—

  Tabitha nipped that thought in the bud. With a huff of self-disgust, she started toward her jeans drawer, then checked the movement and glanced back at the door.

  What was it he’d said?

  I’m not taking any chances.

  She shouldn’t, either.

  Stepping back, she pushed in the button on the knob of her door.

  Seven

  Feeling a warm gaze on his back, Jake glanced over his shoulder.

  Tabitha stood in the door from the kitchen to the hall, watching him. Sure enough, she’d put on blue jeans and a huge navy-blue T-shirt with Rice Uni
versity splayed across the front in big white letters.

  “You went to Rice?” He already knew, of course, from reading her file. He just wanted to see how much she would tell him.

  He went back to shucking corn.

  She came farther into the room. “I had a full academic scholarship for undergrad, and though some say you should go to a different school for your M.B.A., their graduate assistant offer was too good to pass up.”

  “Rice is a top-notch school. I’m impressed.”

  “You should be.”

  He grinned at her arrogance and glanced over as she leaned back against the counter, just a few feet down from him. “It’s in Houston.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “We might’ve seen each other, and never known.”

  She looked down at the sink where a bowl of washed, snapped and stringed pole beans waited in the left side. “That was a long time ago.”

  “Yep.”

  “Do police officers go to college?”

  “Some do.”

  “The ones with ambition.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you go to school?”

  He grinned at her correct assumption and held up his left hand with only the pinky and forefinger sticking up. “Hook ’em Horns.”

  “University of Texas.”

  He nodded. “Best criminal justice school in the state.”

  “Did you always want to be a cop?”

  “Not always.” His smile faded, and he concentrated on picking silk from the ear of corn. His reasons for choosing law enforcement were personal…and painful. “The cat’s gone.”

  She didn’t blink at the change of subject, just shook her head and glanced at the empty carrier. “He’s just hiding. Poor thing is scared to death. He doesn’t know what’s happened, doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know who we are. Under those circumstances, I’d probably hide, too.”

  Jake relaxed back into a smile and placed the first ear of corn in the closest bowl of the double sink. “I doubt it.”

  She crossed her hands over her stomach, which stretched Rice over her chest. “Why would you say that?”

  She’d changed bras, too, he noticed. To a sports bra, by the way it flattened the lovely breasts he’d been itching to wrap his hands around. Not that they were flat, even now. If she thought downplaying her assets would make a difference, she didn’t realize how much he wanted to—

  “Why did you say that?” she repeated.

  He shook off the image. He certainly didn’t need to go there, although he damn sure wanted to. In order to make her back away, he said something sure to get her dander up. “Because you’re a control freak. It’s a damn good thing Hines didn’t kidnap you. You’d have tried something by now to get yourself out of it and more than likely have a hole right between your beautiful bluebonnet eyes.”

  But her ire didn’t rise. Instead, she frowned and picked up the two cat bowls. Taking them to the sink, she lifted the beans out and set the bowls in. Then she reached across him for a paper towel, and her shoulder brushed his arm.

  She hesitated for an instant, just long enough for him to know she felt the same tiny shock of desire that he did, just long enough for him to catch a lungful of the warm, all-woman scent that blended with the sharp freshness of the vegetables.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, drawing back.

  To keep his hands from reaching for her, he picked up the other ear of corn. “Not going to argue with me?”

  “About being a control freak? If you don’t control things in your life, they can end up controlling you.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re one, too, you know.”

  He wanted to pursue her intriguing comment, but knew this wasn’t the time. They were both too tired and hungry. He pulled off half the husk with one hard yank. “I guess we’re two peas in a pod.”

  She filled one bowl with water, then picked both of them up. “We’re having beans tonight, not peas.”

  He continued shucking. “Beans have peas, sort of. I don’t know what they’re called, but they’re in a pod like a pea.”

  She filled the other bowl with cat food. “They’re seeds.”

  “Two seeds in a pod, then. Is that better, Miss Botany?”

  She set both bowls on the floor in the far corner of the kitchen. “There are usually more than two seeds in a pod.”

  Shaking his head, he chuckled. “That’s another form of control, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Your insistence on accuracy. Egregious attention to detail.”

  She lifted a blond eyebrow. “Egregious?”

  He grinned. “Longhorns can use just as many ten-dollar words as Rice farmers.”

  “Rice Owls. And I don’t use ten-dollar words…do I?”

  He glanced up from the ear of corn. “And I quote, ‘The Mission Creek population has a higher SES than the city where you live. It is also a much safer place to live because we have one of the most efficacious and proficient police departments in the United States.”’

  “Well, that reporter deserved it, questioning our experience and ability to handle the situation, just because we’re a small town in South Texas.” She grinned. “Think he knows what SES stands for?”

  “Probably not.” Jake set the second ear next to the first. “And, is it even true? Does Mission Creek have a higher socioeconomic status than wherever that guy was from?”

  “Atlanta. And yes, Mission Creek has a higher SES than most major cities, thanks to the old cattle families like the Carsons and the Wainwrights. They valued education from the beginning, and that’s what leads to a high socioeconomic status.”

  “How’d you find that out?”

  “I work closely with Crystal Bennett on hospital fund-raising. In that line of work, this kind of information is extremely important.”

  “I guess it explains all those ten-dollar words.”

  “Those weren’t ten-dollar words. Six or seven dollars, tops.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have done it, I know. I was trying to keep everything plain and simple, so Branson Hines would understand what I said. But when that reporter sneered his question about how a two-hundred-bed hospital and tiny police force in—how did he put it?—‘the south end of nowhere’ could guarantee the safety of either patients or citizens, I couldn’t help it. I was tired…and tired of stupid questions. There are no guarantees in this life, and he needed to get over it. So I helped him.”

  “Hey, I’m not complaining. You can defend me any day.”

  “I wasn’t—” That quickly, her animation changed to a deep, thoughtful frown, and she turned toward the refrigerator. “Did you get the chicken out?”

  “Not yet. Do you have a vegetable brush?”

  She stopped cold with the refrigerator open, peeking around the door as if she saw a real longhorn in her kitchen.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You know what a vegetable brush is?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Well, you’re a man.” Then she added with distaste, “And a cop.”

  “Male cops aren’t allowed to clean vegetables?”

  “I’ve just never known one who…” She frowned as she trailed off.

  “Okay, I’ll prove it. A vegetable brush is about yay big.” He formed his thumbs and forefingers in an O. “It’s round with stiff bristles and—”

  “It’s in the drawer to the left of the sink.” She returned her attention to the refrigerator. “Be careful, though. The sharp knives are in there, too.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  Jake found the brush and turned on the cold water as she brought a package of boneless chicken breasts over and began to clean them in the other side of the sink.

  Though she wasn’t close enough to touch, he could feel the heat of her body as he briskly brushed the corn free of remaining silk.

  Her proximity and, again, her scent imbued him with as much a sense of comfort as of stimulation. In fact, the comfort was stimulating in its own com
forting way. Somehow, being here with her—cooking with her, teasing her, pulling information from her—felt cozy, felt good, felt…right.

  The realization was so disturbing Jake was glad for the excuse to move away from her when he had to find pots for the vegetables. Although, as he did, he also felt a sense of loss.

  “Damn, White,” he murmured into the cabinet, “get ahold of yourself.”

  “What was that?”

  He rattled a stack of saucepans. “Do you want to break the ears in half or cook them in the big pot?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Breaking them would be easier, I guess. I’ll probably only eat half of one, anyway.”

  Though Jake was determined to make her eat a good meal, he wasn’t going to argue with her now. He needed to get out of the house, away from all the yin energy seducing him. He needed to talk with his men—with fellow police officers—so he could remember who he was and what the hell he was doing there.

  He pulled out the two biggest saucepans and set them on the counter.

  He broke the ears of corn with one snap each and ran enough water to cover them. Then he poured the beans into the other pan and covered them.

  “I’ll let you season them.” Two strides took him to the back door. “I need to see what’s going on outside.”

  “Okay.”

  He refused to let her quizzical tone stop him. Without glancing at her again, he opened the door and stepped into the fresh evening air.

  It smelled like freedom.

  Jake’s watch said it was nearly eleven o’clock when he pushed his chair back from the table. It had taken them over an hour to eat because of several interruptions by his men. One time there was a question about who would be in charge at the next shift change. The next time was by the man Jake had commissioned to bring him clean clothes.

  Leaning back, he patted his stomach. “That was delicious.”

  Tabitha was flattered in spite of her determination not to be. She eyed his clean plate. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t get home cooking this good too often. I have to enjoy it when I do.”

  “You’re so at home in the kitchen, I thought you’d have gourmet meals every night.”