The Marriage Beat

by Doreen Roberts

  His mouth tightened. “That’s not what I’m worried about. I feel bad about what happened and I want to make up for it. This is one way I can do that.” His frown deepened. “You can trust me. I’m not going to make any moves on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about.” For heaven’s sake the man was serious. She stared at him, trying vainly to think of a way to let him down lightly.

  “I’m not going to take no for an answer,” Tyler said quietly. “So don’t even try.”

  She said the only thing she could think of. “I only have one bedroom.”

  “I’ll sleep at my place, of course. But I’ll be around in the daytime if you need me.”

  Well, that was a relief. For a moment she thought he was proposing camping out on the floor. “I really don’t think—”

  “Don’t think. It’s all settled. I’ll take you home and cook you dinner.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I can pick up something from a fast-food place on the way home.”

  “Fast food isn’t good for you. I’ll cook.”

  “I have to get my car from the gym.”

  “I’ll have one of the officers drive it over. I can take him back to his car.”

  Megan stared at him, torn between a possible solution to her problem and the utter stupidity of accepting his offer. There was no way the two of them could spend five minutes in each other’s company without jumping at each other’s throat.

  Tyler Jackson was too domineering, too patronizing, too dam arrogant, too fond of handing out orders and would drive her crazy. On the other hand, her mother would also drive her crazy. At least this way, if things got too unbearable, she could simply tell Officer Jackson to leave.

  She ignored the little voice that warned her she would live to regret her decision. She also ignored the sudden thumping of her heart at the thought of being alone with the rugged cop in her tiny apartment. It was only for a few days. She could survive for a few days.

  “All right,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “I accept your offer.”

  His steely gaze faltered for a moment, then he gave a brief nod. “Fine. I have to call the station, then I’ll be right back.”

  She watched him disappear around the corner, wondering if it was her imagination, or if he really did look as if he were preparing for battle.

  Tyler kept his head down and didn’t stop until he burst through the main doors of the hospital and erupted into the parking lot.

  The soft evening breeze rustled the leaves of the flowering cherry trees, cooling his brow as he strode over to his car. He needed all the help he could get, he reflected, as he unlocked the door. Of all the crazy, lamebrained ideas he’d ever had, this one had to be the absolute pits. What the hell was he thinking of?

  He’d more or less made the suggestion on a wild impulse that he’d instantly regretted. When Megan Summers had refused him at first, then started to argue with him, for some reason he’d felt compelled to dig in his heels. He wasn’t satisfied until he’d won the point. Now he was stuck with it.

  She brought out the worst in him, he thought savagely as he reached for his cell phone. She had a way of stepping on his toes and hitting all his buttons in one go. She drove him crazy and now he would have to live with that for ten days. Maybe more. Damn the captain and his self-defense lessons. It was all his fault.

  Tyler scowled as he jabbed out the captain’s home phone number. He hoped Stewart was in the middle of dinner. He jumped when Lacey Stewart, the captain’s wife, answered.

  “It’s Tyler Jackson,” he said, softening his voice. “Is the captain there?”

  “He’s in the den,” Lacey said, sounding worried. “I’ll get him.”

  A few seconds later Stewart’s voice spoke in his ear. “Jackson? What’s up?”

  “There’s been...a little accident,” Tyler said, gripping the phone with tense fingers. “I’m going to need the next couple of weeks off.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the hospital.”

  “Are you hurt bad? What happened?”

  Tyler sighed. “I was giving Ms. Summers her self-defense lessons, as you ordered, and I screwed up. She’s hurt her arm and can’t use it.”

  “Oh, geez.” Stewart paused for a moment. “How bad is it?”

  “She’ll be out of action ten days or so, according to the doctor.” Tyler looked up at the sky through the windshield. “I offered to take care of her,” he mumbled.

  “You what! Say that again, Jackson?”

  Tyler gritted his teeth. “You heard me. I’m going to take care of her. She doesn’t have anyone else and I feel responsible.”

  There was a long pause on the end of the line, then the captain spoke again with an odd tightness in his voice. “I understand. Go ahead, Jackson. Do what you have to do.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you. I’ll need someone to pick up her car. It’s at the gym. The address is in the report of the mugging.”

  “I’ll send someone. Just make sure he gets back to his car.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks, Captain.”

  “And...good luck, Jackson. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Tyler hung up, frowning. It sounded for all the world as if the captain was trying desperately not to laugh. The thought didn’t improve his temper any.

  He slammed out of the car and stood for a moment trying to calm his frisky nerves. He’d made the suggestion, and he couldn’t back out now. It was true what he’d told the captain. He felt responsible.

  He’d messed up and it was his moral duty to set things right. Megan Summers needed help because of something he’d done, and it was only right that he do what he could to help her out. That was all there was to it. He’d have done the same if she’d been toothless and ninety years old.

  Of course, he reminded himself, as he marched back to the building, had Megan Summers been toothless and ninety years old, he wouldn’t be in as much trouble as he was now.

  If he were real honest with himself, he’d admit that it wasn’t the way Megan Summers stirred up his irritation that bothered him half as much as the way she stirred up his primitive urges. That, he thought worriedly, was where the true problem lay and that could get him into more trouble than he could handle.

  Here he was, planning on spending the next week or so in the more or less exclusive company of a woman who could make him forget all the reasons why he’d sworn off any more serious relationships. He’d just have to start thinking—and acting—like a monk for the next few days, and try not to notice that the woman drove him nuts.

  Something told him that it wasn’t exactly going to be a piece of cake.

  Chapter Three

  “I still think it would be easier just to pick up a hamburger or something,” Megan said, as Tyler weaved his way through the traffic on the Banfield Freeway.

  “You can’t eat fast food every night for two weeks. You’ll end up with stomach ulcers. If I’m going to cook for you I might as well start now.”

  She eyed him doubtfully. “How good a cook are you?”

  “Mediocre, but I get by.”

  The closer they got to her apartment, the more worried she was getting. The idea of Tyler Jackson cooking dinner in her tiny kitchen gave her goose bumps. “You cook for yourself?” She’d assumed that he lived alone, but it wouldn’t hurt to confirm it.

  “Sometimes.”

  “What do you do the other times?”

  He sent her a wary glance. “I eat fast food.”

  “How come you don’t have ulcers?”

  “Men have stronger stomachs than women.”

  And thicker heads, Megan added inwardly. She was a pretty good cook herself. She just hoped that his cooking was at least edible. “Hamburgers would be quicker,” she said, refusing to give up without a fight.

  “No hamburgers. You need something more nutritious than that. You’re sick.”

  “I
’m not sick. I just hurt my arm.”

  “You’ve been injured. Your resistance is down.”

  He was wearing it down, Megan thought mutinously. She should never have agreed to this ridiculous idea. She closed her eyes briefly as Tyler jumped lanes. For a cop he was an erratic driver. Unless all cops learned to drive that way. “I’m not sure I have anything for dinner in the fridge,” she muttered, giving it one last shot.

  “I’ll find something.” His tone warned her that was the final word.

  She gave up, and spent the next five minutes trying to remember what food she had in the house that wouldn’t present too much of a challenge.

  “I’ll need directions from here,” Tyler said, as he took the off-ramp.

  She gave them to him, directing him to her apartment building. He pulled up in her parking space and looked around with the same expression her mother had worn when she’d first seen it.

  Annoyed with his attitude, she said defensively, “It may be small, but it’s cheap and I like it.” She reached across her injured arm for the door handle.

  “Wait!” He shook his head at her. “I’ll get that. Just sit tight.”

  She did her best to fight back her irritation. After all, she thought, as he leaped out of his seat and strode around to her side of the car, he was worried about her. He wanted to make sure she didn’t aggravate her injury. She just wished he would give her a little more credit for taking care of things herself.

  The door flew open and Tyler leaned in. “All right, feet first.”

  For the sake of peace she did what she was told. She swung her feet down and allowed him to take her good arm as she climbed out.

  “There.” He looked far too smug. “Now, where’s your keys?”

  “In my purse.” She slipped it off her shoulder and handed it to him.

  He looked at it as if it were about to explode.

  “You can open it,” Megan said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. “There’s nothing in there to bite you.”

  He sent her a scathing glance and opened the purse, dug out the keys, then handed it back to her. “All right. Which way?”

  She pointed to the main door. “Through there, up the stairs and take a left. Number twenty-four.”

  “Got it.” He took her good arm and guided her toward the door.

  A couple of young women passed them on the stairs. They both gave her bandaged arm a cursory glance, then a much more thorough and appreciative inspection of the man at her side.

  Megan wondered what they’d think if they knew he was a cop. She was rather glad he wasn’t wearing his uniform. She had to admit, he did look quite a hunk in the tank top with his muscled torso on display. She’d probably be the talk of the second floor before the week was out. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that.

  “This it?” Tyler paused in front of her door with the key poised in his hand.

  “Yes.” She waited while he unlocked the door, hoping she’d left the place tidy. It seemed years since she’d left it that morning.

  He stood back to let her walk in, then followed her inside and shut the door. She watched him take in his surroundings and braced herself for his comment.

  His gaze wandered over the plush gold recliners, the beige tweed love seat and the desert landscape that dominated the wall behind it. She’d placed her television set and stereo against the back wall, next to the entrance to the kitchen. The hallway opposite led to her bedroom and scant bathroom.

  After surveying the entire room, he gave her a brief nod. “Nice. You’ve made it look real cozy.”

  Gratified by this unexpected response, she gave him a dazzling smile. “It gets a little stuffy in here,” she said, feeling awkward now that she was alone with him. “It’s been shut up all day and I don’t have air conditioning.”

  “I’ll open up the windows and get some fresh air in here.”

  She watched him cross the room. He seemed taller, and a lot more imposing. She just wasn’t used to seeing a man in her apartment, she told herself, as she watched him raise the windows.

  “Well,” Tyler said, sounding just a little strained, “I guess I’d better start dinner.”

  “I’ll help. I’ve got hamburger in the fridge. We can have that.” She laid her purse on the small coffee table and headed for the kitchen.

  “No, I can do it. I want you to sit down right here and rest that arm.”

  She turned to look at him. His face wore a determined expression that made the fingers of her good hand curl into a fist. “My arm is resting just fine in the sling.”

  “As long as I’m taking care of you, you’ll have to do what you’re told. Now sit down.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my legs. At least let me come out there and watch.”

  “You’ll distract me. I like to cook alone.” He disappeared into the kitchen and she heard him open the fridge door.

  She’d known all along this was a bad idea. All right, she thought, sinking onto the love seat. Let him get on with it. After all, it wasn’t every day she got waited on like this. In any case, her arm was beginning to ache.

  A few seconds later, Tyler emerged from the kitchen carrying a glass of water. “Here, take your pill.”

  She took the glass and the pill he handed her. Trying not to resent the fact that he stood and watched her, she swallowed the capsule and handed him back the glass. “Thank you.”

  “Sure.” He went back to the kitchen, only to return a moment later with a bottle of wine in his hand. “I found some wine. You want some?”

  “I can’t. I just took medication.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then muttered, “Right.”

  “You go ahead, though.”

  “I’d rather have a beer.”

  “I don’t have any beer.”

  “So I noticed.”

  “I wasn’t expecting company.”

  He gave her a disparaging look. “Well, just sit and relax. Dinner will be ready soon.”

  She eyed him warily. “What are you going to cook?”

  “I haven’t decided yet Got a cookbook?”

  “Kitchen cupboard in the corner.” She frowned. “It’s only hamburger. You don’t have to get fancy with it. Just make patties and fry it.”

  He scowled at her. “If you don’t mind, I’m supervising this dinner.” He disappeared into the kitchen again.

  Megan did her best to relax, in spite of the odd sounds coming from her kitchen. She was itching to go in there and find out what he was doing, but after hearing him curse a couple of times, decided it might be better to stay where she was.

  She thought about turning on the television, to keep her mind off what was going on in her kitchen. She reached for the remote, but just then the phone rang, making her jump.

  “I’ll get it!” Tyler rushed out of the kitchen, face flushed and waving a wooden spoon which, Megan noticed caustically, dripped what looked like tomato juice all over the carpet.

  She was tempted to point that out, but Tyler had grabbed the phone and was barking into it. “Yes?”

  He waited and Megan watched his face, fascinated to know how he was going to handle this.

  “Yes, it is,” Tyler said, sounding impatient. “Who’s calling?” Another short pause and then, “I’m a friend of Megan’s.... Er...we met a couple of days ago.... No, I’m a police officer.... Here, I’ll let her explain. I’m in the middle of cooking dinner.”

  He handed the phone over with a harried look on his face. “Your mother.”

  Megan hid a grin as she took the phone. “Hi, Mom.”

  Tyler pulled a face and fled back to the kitchen.

  “Why is a police officer cooking dinner in your apartment?” her mother asked, obviously intrigued.

  Megan did her best to sound matter-of-fact. “I hurt my arm, and Officer Jackson kindly offered to bring me home.”

  “Oh, dear. How bad is it? It’s not broken, I hope?”

  “No, it’s not broken. Just a pull
ed ligament or two.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “I was trying to throw Officer Jackson over my shoulder, and we sort of fell.”

  There was a short pause, then her mother asked carefully, “This might be a stupid question, but why would you want to throw a policeman over your shoulder?”

  “He was attempting to teach me self-defense at the time,” Megan said, beginning to wish she’d made up an excuse.

  “Oh, I see.” Another pause. “Just who are you planning to defend yourself against?”

  Megan sighed. Her mother was the only person in the world who could hold a lengthy conversation consisting entirely of questions. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. There won’t be any more lessons for a while, in any case.”

  “Under the circumstances, that might be a good idea. Does your arm hurt? Can you use it?”

  Megan flexed the fingers of her injured arm and flinched. “Yes, and no. It’s in a sling. I feel pretty ridiculous, to tell the truth.”

  “Will you be able to manage things by yourself, or do you need some help?”

  A crash sounded from the kitchen just then and Megan winced. “I won’t be alone, Mom. Officer Jackson will be here for a few days.”

  “I see.” There was a wealth of meaning behind those two words.

  “No, Mom, it’s not like that. He feels bad because he thinks it was his fault and he wants to help out until my arm is better. He’s not going to stay here. I mean, he’s not living here or anything—”

  She broke off as Tyler’s head appeared around the corner. “Sorry about that.”

  Megan pursed her lips. “What was it?”

  “What was what, dear?”

  “No, not you, Mom. I was talking to Officer Jackson.”

  “Tyler,” Tyler said impatiently. “I told you to call me Tyler.”

  “Oh, right. I was talking to Tyler.”

  “Tyler?”

  “The police officer.”

  “How does a police officer have time to take care of you? Doesn’t he have to chase criminals or something?”

  “He’s giving up his vacation, Mom.”

  “That’s extremely generous of him.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Megan said dryly.