by Leslie Kelly
“Should’ve paid attention in Mrs. Dickey’s second grade penmanship class,” she could hear Callie whispering.
This island wasn’t that big. Even if she took a wrong turn, somebody would be able to point her in the correct direction. From what Mike had said, every resident here knew she was coming and where she would be living. Besides, she didn’t have a penis; she was capable of stopping and asking for directions.
Praying she wasn’t making a mistake, she swung to the left at the fork, looking back down at the paper for the name of her next turn. Apparently, though, she spent too much time staring down, because, before she’d even realized anyone was behind her, she heard the quick blurp-blurp of a siren.
“Hell,” she mumbled, hoping it wasn’t a cop and that she wasn’t the one being blurped at.
Looking in the rearview mirror, she saw a big, dark vehicle. She noted the spinning dome light on the dash and sighed. Definitely a cop. And right behind her. Blurping.
Wow, her luck was so great lately, she ought to go out and buy a lottery ticket.
Pulling over onto the side of the narrow, unlined road, hoping no big trucks would come by to cream her, she plucked her driver’s license out of her wallet, lowered the window and waited.
“What a fantastic way to start my new life,” she muttered, rubbing at her eyes with the tips of her fingers. “Can this day get any worse?”
“That depends on how your day’s been going so far.”
She jerked her hand away from her face, swinging her head to stare at the man standing right beside her car.
The familiar man.
The one who had just kept her from falling overboard into the choppy lake.
The one she’d just been comparing to a heavenly angel and a sexy devil.
Mike. Who was, if the lights and siren on his vehicle were to be believed, an officer of the law.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“We meet again.”
“Please tell me that’s a fake light and you’re not a real cop.”
“Would serial-killer-posing-as-cop-to-lure-unsuspecting-victim work better for you?”
“So not funny.”
“Sorry.”
She leaned out to gaze up at him, as she wasn’t comfortable with the view directly out the driver’s-side window. She’d never been more aware of the height of her Prius before now, when she was face-to-crotch with a superhot guy wearing khakis that hugged some of her favorite boy-parts.
“You really are a cop?”
“Chief Mike Santori of the Wild Boar Island P.D., at your service.”
Santori. So her Italian speculation had been dead-on. She’d always had such a thing for Italian men. All that dark hair, energy, handsomeness and machismo. Potent.
Of course, she rarely got involved with the macho type. Few of them were willing to let a woman call the shots in a relationship. And Lindsey wasn’t about to give that up for a well-hung dude with pecs.
There was a second strike against Mike—his niceness. She didn’t get involved with men who would expect trust and emotion from her. That way, she wouldn’t expect anything like that from them. Safer that way.
He might be worth it.
Perhaps. And if it had just been his sex appeal that attracted her, and she hadn’t come here to help a friend, she might have given some serious thought to getting to know him better.
She had, however, come here to do a job—and to hide out. There was no room in her plan for any man, especially one so unlike the sexy-and-forgettable type she usually went for. Protective, heroic, fun and witty guys weren’t the kind of men you could sleep with and forget. Since those were the only men Lindsey would allow herself to get involved with, Mike was definitely off-limits.
Maybe if she kept telling herself that, she’d start to believe it. And maybe she’d stop wondering what it would be like to be touched by those big, strong hands and kissed by that incredible mouth.
Just get through this and drive away.
“Here,” she said. Without him asking for it, she thrust her driver’s license toward him.
“Lindsey Smith,” he said, reading the card aloud, then handing her back the license, barely glancing at anything else. “I don’t think I’ll need this.”
Hmm. That made it sound as if this wasn’t a legitimate traffic stop. Despite her instinctive reaction to him—that he was one of the good guys—annoyance flared within her. Hot and sexy or not, she didn’t appreciate people who threw their authority around for their own purposes. But she would give him the benefit of the doubt until she found out what he was really after.
“Were you following me?”
“Not intentionally,” he said. “I was told there was an emergency—a missing child—which was why I hurried away from the landing so quickly.”
“What happened?”
“It turns out the kid had broken a window playing ball this morning, and was afraid he’d get in trouble. So he was hiding in his own backyard tree house. His mom found him safe and sound right after she called it in.”
“That’s the best outcome.”
“Not for the kid. He’s probably going to lose his video games for a month.”
Lindsey was glad Mike’s mind had gone right to that consequence instead of corporal punishment, which was sort of a hot button for her. Probably not surprising, given her field—she’d certainly dealt with a lot of people traumatized by physical abuse. Still, Mike’s comment added to the picture of the kind of person he was. A good one. She already knew that much.
Damn, why couldn’t she just keep thinking of him as hot? Speculating that he was nice, decent or trustworthy was useless. Though it would almost certainly prevent her from even considering giving in to the attraction she felt for him, despite her protestations.
“Anyway, I got the call that he’d been found before I even got to town.”
“So were you coming back to the ferry to make sure I hadn’t fallen overboard coming down the gangplank?”
“Nope. It was just a coincidence that I spotted this yellow monstrosity in my rearview. I had to remind myself that Big Bird doesn’t live here.”
She patted her steering wheel. “Don’t make fun of her.”
“I recognized it, obviously. When I saw which way you were going, I turned around and came after you so I could pull you over.”
“Are you allowed to pull me over when you’re off duty?”
“What makes you think I’m off duty?”
“You’re not in uniform.”
A wry grin lifting one corner of his mouth, he slowly unzipped the front of his heavy-duty windbreaker, revealing a buttoned-up, khaki uniform shirt beneath it, complete with a badge on the breast pocket.
“That’s not fair. You were practically undercover.”
“Were you doing something illegal on the ferry that I missed? Are you a secret Twinkie smuggler or something?”
“Twinkies aren’t illegal here, are they?” she asked, feigning horror.
“Not yet, but there is a new eat-healthy initiative at the school.”
“I’ll be sure to stock up, like those Doomsday Preppers did when the world thought Twinkies would be gone forever.”
“Good plan. Now, Lindsey Smith, why don’t you tell me why you were so worried about me pulling you over?”
Yeah. Why was she worried? She hadn’t been speeding—heaven knew it would be hard to get her car up to any speed on these roads. So why had he pulled her over...just because he wanted to see her again?
Even as she reminded herself she didn’t like these tactics, a thrill of excitement raced through her. There’d definitely been attraction between them; she knew he’d felt it, too. She hadn’t for one second really believed he was gay.
Maybe his spiel a
bout not being interested in women or relationships had been a cover, just a line to keep from seeming too interested. Maybe he’d recognized her car and followed a crazy impulse, stopping her so he could ask her to meet him for a drink, or a pleasant walk along the beach, or for hot, steamy sex in the nearest bed.
Cool it.
Whatever the reason, she forced herself to remember she wasn’t interested. Okay, she was interested—definitely aware of him, as any woman would be aware of a guy so hot he should come with a warning label and oven mitts. But, aside from already having decided he was so not her type, she, for one, had meant it when she said she wasn’t on Wild Boar for romance, or sex. Those were the last two complications she needed to add to her life. Lying low and hoping people forgot about her supposed obsession with orgasms wouldn’t be easy if the local police chief started giving her lots of orgasms. Although, she had to admit, it would certainly be fun.
“I’m not worried,” she finally replied, forcing orgasms out of her head. She’d work on her own think-method later, when she was alone. “I’m just surprised you didn’t mention your status as the island’s chief enforcer.”
“That makes me sound like a mobster, not a cop.”
“Sorry. Now, come on, tell me why you pulled me over. Could you just not resist following me?” she asked, flirting a little, despite her own best interest and good intentions.
He admitted it, slowly nodding. “You got me. I had to come after you. I couldn’t help myself.”
She swallowed hard, wishing she hadn’t started something she knew she couldn’t finish. Flirtation was fun—she usually enjoyed it, especially with a guy as attractive as this one. But she was here to lie low, not to get laid.
But she just couldn’t resist. “It’s the hair, isn’t it?” she asked with a feigned sigh. “Yes, it’s my natural color.”
He bent down so he was squatting beside the car, resting a forearm on the door. They were practically face-to-face now, and the position gave her the chance to study those dark, dreamy eyes, framed by the thickest, longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man.
He watched her just as intently, answering, “It’s not the hair, but thanks for clarifying. It’s not your pretty eyes, either.”
She licked her lips, enjoying the way his stare roved over her face, as if he not only liked what he saw, but was memorizing her features to think about later. Hmm.
“Well?”
“Two things. First, you have my gloves.”
His gloves. Damn, she’d totally forgotten to give them back, had simply stuffed them into the pockets of her raincoat. She flushed, immediately grabbing them and shoving them toward him. “I’m so sorry. I was just so relieved to get off that ferry I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m the one who raced off for the near-emergency.”
He took the gloves from her, his fingertips brushing against hers, lightly, softly, and he didn’t immediately pull away. She sucked in a surprised breath at the excitement she felt at such simple skin-to-skin contact. They’d been mashed together, full-frontal, during their choppy boat ride, but through the bulk of their clothes and coats, she hadn’t been able to register much more than a quick acknowledgment that he felt as strong and powerful as he looked. This brief, innocent connection of fingertips somehow seemed more intimate. Quick pictures flashed through her head of those strong, warm hands touching lots of other places on her body.
Lindsey was a big advocate of women taking care of themselves, being in complete control—financially, emotionally, physically and sexually. But oh, lord, did she love big, strong, man-hands.
“What’s the second reason?” she whispered, not sure whether she wanted him to say she’d forgotten something on the boat, or that he wanted to take her out for a blue-plate special.
Meat loaf’s good. I like meat loaf.
“Well, there’s also the fact that...”
“Yes?”
“You’re going the wrong direction down a one-way street.”
3
“SHUT UP!”
Mike wasn’t sure what Lindsey had expected him to say—that she’d grabbed his interest along with his gloves? That he’d wanted to see her again? That he’d be happy to show her around?
All that was true. But, remembering their conversation on the trip over, he knew better than to say it. Neither of them was in the market. She was a schoolteacher, for heaven’s sake, and he was the chief of police. They couldn’t afford the kind of gossip that would arise if the two newcomers, both in respectable positions, hooked up.
That was especially true for him, considering his very job might be on the line. If the town council decided he was spending too much time romancing a woman when he should be focused on his probationary period, he might not have a job to stick with. He needed to keep reminding himself of that, no matter how much he found himself thinking about those sparkling green eyes or that stunning red hair.
Her goggle-eyed expression and gut response almost made him laugh, but he clarified, “Uh, me shutting up won’t change the fact that you’re going the wrong way.”
“You’re serious?”
“Serious as an IRS audit.” He jerked a thumb toward the fork in the road, at which she’d taken a decidedly wrong turn. “The road switches from two to one-way at the split. It single-lanes in a long loop around the base of the island.”
She continued to gape and sputter. “Is there a sign?”
“Yup.”
“I can’t believe I missed it.” She shifted in her seat, peering out through the misty morning air, looking for the road sign, then let out an audible sigh when she spotted it. “I’m very sorry—I’m usually a good driver. I was trying to read my own lousy handwriting for the directions and wasn’t paying close enough attention.”
She showed him a sheet of paper on which was scrawled something that might have been English, but also might have been a secret code used by the Allies in World War II.
“Wow. You write more like a doctor than a schoolteacher.”
She bit her bottom lip.
“I thought all teachers had good penmanship.”
“I’m not exactly a typical teacher.”
That was an understatement. If any of his science teachers had been as sexy as her, he may have ended up a Nobel Prize–winning biochemist. “You’re sure not like any of the ones I had.”
“To be fair, you’re not exactly how I’d pictured the chief of police of a remote island to look.”
“What would you expect?”
“Umm... A sixty-five-year-old with gray hair and a fishing pole?”
“You just described the guy I replaced,” he admitted. “But I don’t have the patience for fishing. I’m more of a pickup-basketball fan myself.”
“So, Kobe, is there a lot of call for police chiefing here on the island?”
“We have our fair share of crime, you know.”
“Hotbed of criminal activity, is it?”
“Some gang stuff going on.” Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. Chuckling, he added, “A gang of nine-year-olds went into the general store and swiped candy bars on a dare.”
“I take it they weren’t armed?”
“Only with loud whines and lots of crocodile tears when they got caught.”
“Did you arrest them?”
“Nah, I let them off with a warning. Their parents were so mad, I have no doubt those kids won’t do it again.”
“What about me? Are you going to let me off with a warning, or are you going to give me a ticket?”
“Trying to decide. Should I cite you for going the wrong way, stealing my gloves or telling an officer of the law to shut up?”
She must have recognized the teasing note in his voice, because a soft laugh gurgled from her mouth. �
��Sorry about that.”
“S’okay. You might have been trying to decipher your messy writing, but the truth is, the sign’s also a bit hidden by some overgrown bushes.” She glanced back again, and he did, too, barely making out the sign. He hadn’t been exaggerating. “I’ll get somebody from the town maintenance crew to come out and trim the bushes. I guess the crew’s not prepared for newcomers who don’t know their way around so early in the spring.”
“Thanks, though I should have seen it, even if the underbrush is a bit overgrown.”
“Let me hit the lights and siren and turn you around so you don’t get beaned by a truck while you get to the correct side of the loop. Then I’ll lead you to your new home.”
He wondered if she would argue, but she must have still been light-headed from her water voyage since she didn’t. That was good. Not only because the roads were twisty and, in some cases, made no sense, but also because of the possible condition of her cottage. He didn’t know Lindsey well, but he sure didn’t want to think about her walking in the door and getting a faceful of spiderweb or a lungful of dusty air.
Jogging back to his SUV, he switched on the siren and light again then swung around, watching as she did the same. He led her the short distance to the fork, turned down the correct side and easily found his way to her new place. He had only lived on Wild Boar for a few months, but he was already familiar with just about every inch of it. There weren’t very many inches, after all.
Pulling up in front of the old Wymer place, which was now empty since the elderly owner had moved in with her equally elderly, also-widowed sister in town, he drove around to the small cottage in the back of the property. The sisters clearly hadn’t given much thought to the condition of the place. Weeds choked the front garden, and the small fence lining the cobbled walkway sagged, as if on the verge of collapse. Paint was peeling off the cottage’s siding, and the front door was pitted and sorely in need of a coat of wood stain.
Lindsey pulled up next to him and got out of her car, her shoulders slumping as she eyed what would be her home for the next couple of months. “Well, it’s not exactly as I pictured it.”
“Couldn’t you stay at your friend’s house while she’s gone? Isn’t she staying somewhere near the hospital on the mainland close to her baby?”