by Lisa Childs
“So does he have a criminal record?” Billy asked.
“No,” she admitted with a contrary flash of disappointment. She should have been happy that he might actually be that saint everyone thought him to be. Those kids could certainly use one.
“So what’s your problem with him?”
“I think when he gave his statement to Paddy, he complained about me,” Robbie said, nerves getting the better of her. Just nerves. She was not reacting to how handsome Holden Thomas looked in a black sweater and faded jeans, his hair mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it.
“Why? About what?” Billy asked, outraged on her behalf. “You saving him from getting his head blown off?”
She smiled at her superior officer’s protectiveness but shook her head. “I doubt he would have gotten hit if I hadn’t tripped him. I’m the reason he got hurt. He must have said something to Paddy and that’s why I got ‘recruited’ to help out with the CPA.” Recruited by a quick telephone summons to show up tonight for class.
“Paddy probably just wants all the help he can get,” Billy said, turning his gaze to another dark-haired woman sitting at the table closest to the officers. The reporter for the Lakewood Chronicle had been the first to arrive, as if she’d thought she might have had to fight her way into the building.
“I can’t believe Paddy let Erin Powell into the program,” Robbie remarked, “with some of the stuff she’s written about the department.”
“Kent Terlecki okayed her joining the CPA,” Billy said. “And she’s been a lot harder on him than on the rest of the department in her articles.” Billy shook his head, as if bewildered by his housemate’s behavior—he and the public-information officer rented a house together. “Hell, I guess he thinks the CPA might change her mind.”
Robbie shrugged. “It’s hard to improve bad press,” she said as she met Joelly Standish’s gaze from across the room. The media had painted her friend as a spoiled debutante just because she was the mayor’s daughter. They had no idea about the kind of selfless person she’d always been, despite her sometimes overbearing father. Of course part of that was Joelly’s fault—she liked playing the bad girl for the press, knowing it annoyed her father. The mayor kind of deserved whatever embarrassment his daughter caused him—at least for the past year when he’d been going after the Lakewood PD, trying to cut their budget because of some vendetta he had against the chief. That was why Joelly had joined the CPA, so that she could use what she learned about the department to get her father to back off.
Since Joelly was fully aware that most of the residents of Lakewood regarded her as an indulged princess and knew about the animosity between the police department and her father, she had insisted that Robbie not acknowledge their friendship in case it caused problems for her. But Joelly would not be a problem. No, if anyone was going to be a problem for her, it was Holden Thomas. Robbie’s gaze slid from Joelly to him.
Goose bumps lifted her skin as she realized he’d been staring at her. She hated that she found him so attractive; the last time she’d fallen in love she’d wound up living on the streets, pregnant and alone. Even though there was no risk of that happening again, now that she was older and wiser, there was also no risk of her falling in love again. Since she was older and wiser.
Holden couldn’t believe he’d actually returned tonight for a meeting of the Citizens’ Police Academy. What had he been thinking? He didn’t have time for this. Sure, he’d like to learn more about police procedures. It would help him deal with kids at his shelter when they complained about the police hassling them.
Or did he just want to learn more about her?
If not for her light blue eyes and pale skin, he wouldn’t have recognized Robbie. In the black Lakewood PD uniform, she looked so different from the sexily dressed woman of the night before. Even her hair had been subdued, pulled back in a thick braid that hung down her back.
She didn’t speak until the lead instructor of the CPA, Lieutenant O’Donnell, introduced the officers who would teach sessions of the program. “Sergeant Bartholomew Halliday and Officer Roberta Meyers will teach the course on the vice unit.”
“I don’t need help learning new vices,” an older man sitting next to Holden quipped. Then color rushed to his face. “Sorry, Reverend.”
During the class introductions, Holden had learned the man, Donald Baker, was a neighborhood-watch captain. The class of nearly twenty included a few neighborhood-watch captains and a vast assortment of other citizens: two teachers, some college students, a reporter, an older married couple and a former gang member who’d begun his own community-outreach program, an after-school youth center for kids at risk of joining gangs. He was in great company. Holden grinned, silently assuring Baker that he’d taken no offense.
Officer Meyers stepped up to the podium. The mike screeched as she adjusted it to her height. Then she cleared her throat and said, “We look forward to sharing with you our experiences as undercover vice officers.”
The memory of her, in those ripped jeans and that tight camisole, kept flitting through his mind, distracting him from the class, so that he was startled when, some time later, everyone started to file out of the meeting room.
“Glad you decided to join us,” a familiar male voice welcomed him.
Holden glanced up at Sergeant Billy Halliday. Roberta Meyers stood silently at the lanky man’s side. “I’m not really sure why I’m here,” he said. He needed to thank her for saving him the other night; however, the words stuck in his throat.
“No burning desire to learn more about law enforcement?” she asked.
“No,” Holden said and hoped like heck he spoke the truth. “No burning desire.”
“Then why are you here?” she asked.
The sergeant gasped as if surprised at her bluntness, but Holden suspected she always lacked finesse. He shrugged. “I guess I’d like to learn more about what happened last night—about why. Then maybe I can explain it to my kids.” He grinned. “Or convince some of Lakewood PD’s finest to explain it to them.”
Officer Meyers chuckled. “Doesn’t matter who talks to them—good luck getting them to listen.”
“I think they’d listen to a police officer.” At least they would if Holden could find one who knew how to reach them.
“I work undercover a lot,” Billy pointed out, rubbing his shaggy beard. “I’m going under tonight again, but I’ll definitely stop by when I’m between assignments. And I’ll make sure some other officers come by, as well.”
“Thanks,” Holden said, his own tension easing. Maybe joining the Citizens’ Police Academy hadn’t been a mistake, after all.
“Sure thing,” Halliday said, then glanced toward the door. “Uh, my mom’s waiting for me…”
Holden held in a chuckle, seeing the irritation and embarrassment on the vice cop’s face. He’d also caught the man’s look of surprise earlier, when his mother had walked in and explained that she’d joined the program to learn more about her son’s job—since she could never get any information out of him.
Roberta Meyers stared at the retreating sergeant, then met Holden’s gaze. Her pupils widened, nearly eclipsing the icy-blue irises.
“What about you, Officer?” he asked. “Will you help out at the shelter?”
She shook her head.
“Not interested in giving back to the community?”
A breath hissed out between her lips. “I give back to the community by doing my job.”
“Your job is really important to you,” he surmised.
“Of course.”
“And mine is really important to me,” he said. Although he didn’t consider the shelter a job; it was so much more than that. Sometimes a vocation. Sometimes a penance. “Helping those kids really matters to me.”
“I help them, too,” she insisted, her tone defensive, “by getting the drug dealers and other predators off the streets.”
He uttered a soft whistle in appreciation of the work sh
e did. “I guess you’re doing more than I am.”
“Your shelter is vital,” she assured him. “The kids need it…and you.”
Again he got the impression she knew that personally, and not just because of her job. So he implored her, “Come by the shelter and talk to them.”
Somehow he suspected they would connect with her a lot better than they had with the TV cop.
“You really want me to work with you?” she asked, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Only for the sake of the kids,” he hastened to explain. “I think you could relate to them.” And he wanted to know how she could do that. He wanted to know entirely too much about her.
“I don’t have the time.”
He should have been relieved. He really shouldn’t want to spend more time with the cynical cop. And even if she could relate to the kids, that didn’t mean she’d be able to help them. Especially since she obviously wasn’t willing to take on the task.
With a brief nod, she walked from the room—as if proving her claim that she had no time. Holden stared after her, wondering if maybe the problem wasn’t the shelter. Maybe the problem was him.
Had she mistaken his request for a personal interest in her? He almost ran after her—to correct her misconception. He was already dating a woman who was perfect for him; he had no interest in Roberta Meyers.
Absolutely no interest at all.
Chapter Three
“You should stop by his shelter,” Joelly said, leaning against the butcher-block kitchen counter as she sipped from her mug of coffee. “You need to check it out. I think it would be good for you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and added, “I think he would be good for you.”
Robbie laughed at her relentless friend. “Give it up, Jo. I’m not interested.”
Joelly raised her honey-blond brows. “Really? Have you seen him?”
“Seen him.” She shrugged as if unimpressed, and then the devil made her add, “Felt him up, too.”
Joelly sputtered, choking on her coffee. After wiping her eyes and mouth, she exclaimed, “Rob!”
Robbie laughed again. “I’m kidding. I just frisked him,” although she had appreciated the curve of his tight butt when she’d slid her hands into his pockets. “During the raid—I told you about it.”
“Yes, you did. And you don’t usually tell me about your busts,” Joelly reminded her. “You’re interested in Holden Thomas.”
Robbie shook her head. “No. I’m not.” No matter how perfect the man seemed. She picked some used napkins off the counter, which was cluttered with ice-cream bowls and pizza plates from last night’s feast, and tossed them into the trash. “I don’t have the time or the energy to date.”
“That’s a cop-out and you know it,” Joelly accused her. “You’re scared because of the mistake you made a long time ago. Don’t you think it’s time you got back on that horse?”
Robbie glanced through the archway to the living room, where Kayla lay on her stomach in front of the television, watching cartoons. Giggles erupted from her and the little blond girl lying beside her on the hardwood floor.
“The things I’ve done that other people consider mistakes usually turn out to be the best things that have ever happened to me,” she reminded her friend.
Joelly turned toward her goddaughter and then smiled at Robbie. “Exactly.”
Robbie tossed one of the dirty napkins at Joelly’s face. It struck her nose and then dropped into her mug. With a glare, Jo lifted out the dirty paper and tossed it into the trash.
More giggles erupted in the living room.
“Setting a great example,” Jo accused her.
“They’re laughing at the cartoons,” Robbie said. The last thing she wanted was to set a bad example for her daughter. That was one reason she hadn’t dated in a while; she’d never had the greatest judgment when it came to men.
As if Joelly read Robbie’s mind—and maybe she had—she said, “Holden’s a really great guy. He’s doing so much good for the community.” She glanced toward the living room, then lowered her voice and added, “For kids like we once were. I wish he’d been around back then, that his shelter for runaway teens had existed when we’d needed someplace safe to stay.”
Robbie shivered as she remembered being cold and scared. And alone, until she’d met Joelly. “Yeah, the shelter’s great.”
“He’s great.”
Robbie shook her head. “There’s something about him…” Something that unsettled her, that had her every instinct screaming to be careful. “I don’t quite trust him.”
“You don’t trust anyone, my friend.”
“I trust you.” Just Joelly. Robbie had learned, the hard way, to trust no one else. Even her own parents had let her down when she’d needed them most. Not to mention the boy who’d sworn he would love her forever.
“Since you trust me, do what I tell you to do,” Joelly urged, her voice and gaze stern. She put on what she called her Mean Mommy face and said, “Stop by the shelter.”
“Are you sure you’re not a mother?” Robbie asked. Ever since they’d first met on the streets, Joelly, despite being a year younger than Robbie, had been taking care of her.
She grinned. “I am a mother.”
“A dog doesn’t count.”
“Sassy is my baby,” Joelly insisted, tilting her head. “And I think she’s calling me now.”
Robbie listened, but couldn’t hear any yelping from the Chihuahua in the next apartment. Of course the walls were thick in the old house, which had been converted into four units—Robbie and Joelly leased the downstairs ones, which were separated by the foyer. So there was no way Joelly could have heard Sassy unless she’d left her door open again. “You just don’t want to help me clean up from the slumber party.”
“That, too.” Taking her cup with her, Joelly waggled her fingers. “Gotta go.”
“We can help you with the dishes, Miss Meyers,” Holly offered as she bounded into the kitchen.
Robbie envied the child’s exuberance. None of them had gotten much sleep last night, but Holly hadn’t needed caffeine to recover. Robbie had to pour herself another cup. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure your uncle will be here soon.”
The other two girls who’d slept over had already been picked up. More than an hour ago.
“He probably got busy and forgot,” Holly said matter-of-factly.
A pang of sympathy struck Robbie at the thought that the child considered herself so unimportant to her guardian. “I’m sure he could never forget about you.” She dropped to her knees and pulled the little girl into a quick embrace. “I know I could never forget about you.”
“He does,” Holly said with an unconcerned shrug, “when he gets busy. That’s why Mrs. Crayden lives with us.”
Mrs. Crayden, the child’s nanny, had dropped her off the previous evening. The older woman had been happy because, in addition to the night off, her employer had given her the rest of the weekend off. Had Holly’s busy uncle figured he had a cheap replacement for the nanny in Robbie?
She wouldn’t mind having the child stay—Holly was as special as Kayla had said. Robbie had had so much fun playing games with the girls last night and this morning. Sometimes she wished Kayla wasn’t an only child, but if Robbie wanted a bigger family she’d have to start dating again. And Joelly had been right about one thing—Robbie was scared to take the chance of making another mistake.
“Why don’t you give me your uncle’s number and I’ll call and remind him?” Robbie offered.
“I don’t want to bother him,” Holly said. “What he does is really important, too. Like your job.”
Robbie suppressed her inclination to interrogate the child. She knew little about Holly’s uncle, but she would save her questions for the man himself—if he ever decided to show up.
“Holly can stay, can’t she?” Kayla asked after she shut off the TV in the living room and joined them.
“Of course,” Robbie assured the g
irls. “It’s been great to finally meet your best friend.” Relief eased her irritation. She was so glad that her shy daughter had met someone who’d brought her out of her shell. “Holly can stay as long as she likes.”
The girls threw their arms around each other. “Yay!”
“Until her uncle comes for her,” Robbie clarified, suspecting both girls would be thrilled if Holly could stay indefinitely.
“I might be here a long time,” the little blonde warned her.
Robbie’s annoyance with the missing uncle returned. When he finally showed up for his niece, she intended to give him a piece of her mind. As if on cue, the doorbell rang.
“That’s probably Uncle Holden now,” Holly said.
Holden? Realization dawned, tightening the muscles in Robbie’s stomach. Holly’s last name was Thomas. Holden Thomas was standing at her door?
“I’ll let him in,” Robbie said. “Kayla, why don’t you show Holly your DVD player? Your favorite movie is probably still in it.”
She waited until the girls disappeared down the short hall off the kitchen before she opened the door. Holden Thomas, hand outstretched toward the bell, drew back, his greenish-blue eyes widening with shock. In worn jeans and a jersey, he was dressed pretty much as he’d been the first time she’d seen him—when she’d slid her hands into those denim pockets and frisked him.
“I should have put it together,” he murmured. “Kayla Meyers. Robbie Meyers.”
“Roberta,” she corrected him automatically, not wanting any familiarity between them. “I should have put it together, too.”
How many different women was Roberta Meyers? Holden wondered. He’d met the sexy vice cop in her tight teenage outfit, then the no-nonsense police officer in her austere black uniform and tightly bound braid, and now he was meeting another version. Mom. She wore a baggy, black Lakewood PD sweatshirt with faded jeans. Her bare toes peeked from beneath the frayed cuffs and her thick black hair spilled out of a clip on the back of her head. She looked even younger than she had in her vice disguise.