He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. “You’re very welcome, but you can hold the thanks. My next act will be even better!”
KRIS HAD INVITED HIM to stay for dinner, but Rick couldn’t postpone his own business any longer. He had a date—a phone date with Doc Romano—every Wednesday at four. And that was that. He wouldn’t put it past his C.O. to send a search party if he didn’t check in. But a whole hour with the shrink? Talking about what?
When he called, he discovered two things: he could set the topics and the time limit, at least for now. Beautiful.
The shrink was an angler. They talked trout fishing for thirty minutes and Rick’s job search for ten. Then they hung up.
Next week, he was supposed to tell the guy how many positions he’d applied for. Piece of cake.
THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Kristin and Ashley visited Dr. Kaplan again. They also received a loaner piano for the living room of their borrowed home—Rick’s second act. He’d conjured up the instrument through friends who owned a nightclub, and had also arranged for it to be tuned. It seemed her neighbor hadn’t been kidding when he claimed to know most everyone in town.
Marsha and her husband had generously given permission to move the instrument into their summer house. Ash herself had gotten on the phone the evening after it was delivered.
“The price for rearranging my crummy furniture is a fabulous concert when I finally get there,” Marsha said to Ashley. “Enjoy yourself, honeybunch.”
“Maybe I’ll take some piano lessons again,” whispered Ashley. “I’m thinking about it. But only here in your house.”
A few minutes later, Marsha brushed aside Kristin’s thanks. “What else are friends for? Whatever you need…it’s yours. We will not let Ashley down.”
Her tone had been crisp and sure, reinforcing her support for the McCarthys, and Kristin understood what was left unspoken. Her dear friend was a mother, too, with a daughter of her own.
Unfortunately, Marsha hadn’t let the conversation drop at that point.
“So, tell me about this guy who went to a lot of trouble to get you the piano.” Her voice held an unasked question, and once again Kristin clearly understood what her friend didn’t say out loud.
“He’s your neighbor—a cop, who says his career is over.”
Marsha’s low whistle spoke volumes. “Are you talking about Rick Cooper?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Something bad must have happened to him. We’ve only owned the house for three years, so I don’t know him well. He’s not there a lot. But I like the family. Just be careful. You don’t need any more problems, Kris. Besides, cops are not our favorite people these days. Not when they sit on their butts and do nothing.”
Kristin, however, found herself wanting to be fair. “The case is wide open, Marsh. He’s made calls. He’s been great with Ash. His dog’s fantastic—in fact, the dog got her to talk! As you said, Rick’s gone to some trouble for us. He’s a nice guy, but you don’t have to worry about a romance. He’s not for me, in that kind of way.”
“Okay, so now I’m changing my mind. You just told me what a great guy he is. I believe you. And he’s good-looking, too. So why not see where your relationship goes?”
Talk about not needing more problems.
“I’ll count the reasons, Marsha. He doesn’t have a job, he doesn’t know what he wants to do, or what he’ll earn, or where he’ll live. He’s totally footloose. A rolling stone, as they say. And that is definitely not for me. Or for Ashley. And also…”
“There’s more? You gave me quite a list right then.”
“Yes, I’m afraid there’s more, and it’s coming to me right now as we speak.” Kristin paused a moment to organize her thoughts. “Why would I want to risk getting involved with a cop?” she asked slowly. “They can get killed on the job. You read about it in the papers all the time. Losing John was so hard. I was thinking about his death just the other day, and I’m not going down that path again.”
Her friend was silent for a moment and then said in a conspiratorial tone, “I can understand that, Kris, but who said anything about forever? If he’s been as good a friend as you say, what’s wrong with a little summer romance? No strings. It might be exactly what you need to jump-start a fuller life. An adult social life.”
Now it was Kristin’s turn to be silent. “I—I don’t know,” she finally said. “I need to think about that.”
“I know you like a sister, Kris. We both know you’re the marrying kind. But you’re also a grown woman, a healthy woman, and being with someone you like is no dishonor to John. You’re allowed to…explore, shall we say?”
“I am? Well, thanks for your permission, Mother.” She gave her friend’s remark a humorous spin, and was still chuckling after she hung up. A summer fling? Hardly. Kristin really was the marrying kind. She was no Kristin Columbus, ready to explore a new world with Rick.
Heat crept up her body, surprising her. So there was no question that she was attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be with his good looks and kind heart? And even if she were willing to swim in uncharted waters, Ash didn’t need a father figure who would disappear after a couple of months. Her insecurities could return worse than ever. Kristin shivered at the thought.
Nope. No romance. She and Rick would remain as they were. Friends. Just friends.
CHAPTER SIX
ON FRIDAY MORNING of the Memorial Day weekend, Kristin sat on the front porch, as she did every day, and watched Morningstar Lake come to life. She saw many more cars parked in driveways on Lakeside Road. The city dwellers had arrived, and the hustle and bustle of a new season was beginning.
She scanned the properties closest to her. One was still empty, but next door, between her and Rick, stood the Grossmans’ Buick sedan. Ben and Sophie were a retired couple, probably in their seventies, who’d told her, as soon as they’d arrived the day before, that they had their lives all figured out.
“Florida in the winter and spring. Then Morningstar Lake in summer and fall,” said Ben. “Our kids and grandkids visit us anywhere we are.”
“Have rolling pin, will travel,” joked his wife. “They come as long as I bake.”
“My grandma can bake apple pie,” Ashley piped up. “When we lived at her house, she made it a lot. She wanted me to eat pie with ice cream. She called it something fancy.” The girl’s brow creased in thought. “À la, à la…à la mode. Pie à la mode. That’s what Grandma said.”
Kristin tucked the comments away. Ash hadn’t spoken much about Kristin’s parents since she’d arrived at Morningstar Lake, but she was right about the pie.
Sophie nodded in recognition. “There are two things a grandma has to be able to produce in the kitchen,” she said to Ashley, her voice deadly serious. “Apple pie is one and chicken soup is the other. Those are the rules.” The woman grinned.
Ash smiled back at her and said, “My other grandma doesn’t bake. But she can play the piano. Grandpa, too.”
“Well, isn’t that something!” Sophie returned to her house with a promise of samples for everybody the next time she baked.
Today, Ashley would probably want to spend another six hours at the piano herself. But the weather promised to be gorgeous—too gorgeous to stay indoors. Having a beautiful lake at their doorstep would not go to waste. Swimming would be on their agenda. Kristin would insist.
Sipping her coffee, she saw Rick wave from the road as he and Quincy jogged toward her. Whether it was a ritual for him and the dog in the city, she didn’t know, but a morning run certainly was their daily habit at the lake. She’d recognize him anywhere, even from a distance: how he tilted his head just so, how he held his body with elbows bent, how his legs pumped like pistons in a regular beat. He trotted up to her.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Blushes came too easily. “Hi…good morning.”
His grin rivaled a jack-o’-lantern’s.
She was afraid that her own welcoming smile matched his. She tos
sed a towel to him.
“You’re a sweat hog.”
“Which can be quickly remedied with a shower.” He rubbed his face and hung the towel around his neck, and she followed his every movement.
He reminded her of Patrick Dempsey, with a five o’clock shadow early in the morning. He’d take a shower next…. She pictured the drops of water hitting his wide shoulders, rivulets trickling through the wavy hair on his chest…Stop!
“Keep looking at me like that…” Rick squatted in front of her and took her hand. His grin was gone. “How about dinner with me tonight? Alone. My family is coming up today—my folks and my sister’s crew. Ashley can stay at our house with them. She’ll love Madison and Danny. Besides, Quincy’ll be there, too.”
A date. He wanted to go on a grown-up date because her hormones had encouraged him! Warmth radiated from his gray-eyed gaze. She was tempted. An evening alone with a handsome, attentive and kind man. An evening away from her problems.
“I think I’d like that,” she heard herself say, “but I’m not sure. I can’t promise.”
His lips brushed her fingers, bestowing feathery kisses. “That’s good enough.”
Her hand tingled. She pressed it to her mouth as she watched him return to his own house, whistling cheerfully, his energy still high. He appealed to her in many ways, including physically. She barely recognized the kind of daydreams she’d indulged in recently. She enjoyed the man’s friendship. He was fun, had opinions and was a great conversationalist. Time flew when they were together, and she appreciated his support. But her daydreams were definitely not platonic.
Under ordinary circumstances, she’d want to know him better. And a cautionary yellow light blinked in her head. Keep the relationship simple. No romantic entanglements.
Unfortunately, she was finding it difficult to follow her own advice.
IF ASHLEY COULDN’T PLAY the piano inside, then she was taking her flute outside. She was adamant and said so as she cleared the kitchen table after lunch.
“Fine,” said Kristin. “Today, we’re getting fresh air and exercise. We’re going swimming, walking, even fishing if you want. We can sit right on the dock and drop our lines.”
“What lines?” Ashley’s forehead wrinkled, but at least she was showing some interest.
“Aunt Marsha said there were poles in the basement.” Loving friends became relatives after a while, in Kristin’s opinion, and she’d used the courtesy title for Marsha all of Ashley’s life.
Ash rushed to the basement door, opened it, then looked over her shoulder at her mom. “It’s dark down there.”
“Turn on the light. It’s on the wall next to you.”
“It’s still too dark.”
“Okay. I’m coming.” It seemed Ash wasn’t yet ready to be too adventurous.
They found the equipment and brought everything upstairs. The tackle box was locked, or at least stuck.
Ashley clapped her hands, her excitement obvious. “You know what that means, Mom?”
“We could use a paper clip?”
“Uh-uh. Worms. We’re gonna dig for worms and put them on the hooks.”
Not. At least, not Kristin.
Ten minutes later, they’d set up their beach chairs at the shore, in the shade of some birches. A load of paraphernalia surrounded them—drinks, books, fishing equipment, a flute, towels, sunscreen.
“It’s like packing for a trip,” joked Kristin.
“We’re prepared, like the Boy Scouts.”
“One day you’ll rejoin your Girl Scout troop, Ash. I have a feeling you miss it.”
Ashley reached for her flute and didn’t reply. Soon the music of Elton John’s “Daniel” filled the air, followed by Joseph Haydn’s short pieces for flute, then bits from Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf.
She could go on for hours. Was this any better than staying in the house playing the piano? Kristin sighed. Maybe later on, when Rick’s niece and nephew showed up, Ashley would get involved with them.
The music gave way to a Scott Joplin piece—a rag—and suddenly the flute had company. Ash’s eyes widened, but she kept on playing. This time the sax followed her, picking up the melody, providing counterpoint to her rhythm.
Kristin turned in her chair and watched Rick approach from their backyard. He inched closer but kept the music going without a lapse. They sounded wonderful together.
When the piece ended, Ashley jumped from her seat and twirled to discover her partner’s identity.
“Rick! Rick! It’s you.” She ran to him and into his arms, as though she’d known him all her life. Quickly, he swung his instrument behind him on its strap, caught her with two hands and tossed her in the air as though she weighed nothing.
“You found me out, kiddo.” His grin was contagious.
“Mom! Mom! This is so great.” She dragged the man to the beach. “We could play all the time.”
Sweet memories passed through Kristin’s mind as she gazed at her child. She’s happy right now. This was what happiness looked like on Ash in the past. She still had it in her.
“Ahh—one of my favorite activities,” said Rick, spotting the fishing poles.
“Got any worms?” asked Ashley.
“You need to dig early in the morning, kiddo. It’s too hot now. But if you and Quincy want to check out my car, there’s a tackle box with lures we could use.”
“Sure. C’mon, Quince.” And they were off.
Suddenly, the beach seemed quiet. Very quiet.
Rick put his sax down, lowered himself into the vacated chair and shifted it closer to Kristin’s.
“Your daughter’s going to be fine—in the end.”
“I’m beginning to believe it myself, especially when I see her with you.”
He didn’t like the frown that settled on her forehead. But he really liked how she looked in that blue bathing suit that matched her eyes. “Don’t borrow trouble, as my mom always says.”
“Oh, I’ve heard that before myself.”
Better. She was smiling again. “I’m wondering,” he said in a deadpan voice, “if you need any sunscreen on the places you can’t reach. I’m volunteering for the job.”
He loved how she blushed, how he could make her blush. He stroked her arm. “I’m teasing, Kris. But I have to be honest, too. You’re different. You intrigue me. I don’t meet many women with no hard edges.”
“Maybe that’s my problem. Maybe a harder edge is what I need. So, what kind of women do you usually meet?”
That was an easy question for him. “Streetwise. On the force. We all talk the same language, live the same way. There’s no innocence, left, none at all.”
She didn’t respond immediately. He liked her for that. She cared enough to think about what she wanted to say.
“I imagine,” Kris said, “that you’re always looking over your shoulder, especially if you’re patrolling the streets. I think that would change anyone’s personality.”
“True. And the job takes a toll. The divorce rate among cops is second to no other profession. And my marriage was no exception.” Confession was good for the soul. And fair was fair. He knew about John McCarthy and why Kris was now a single parent.
“I’m sorry. It must have been painful.”
He remembered a lot of fighting, a lot of silent periods. “It lasted four years. We drifted apart after a while. I think that having failed was more painful than the personal hurt. And that doesn’t speak well of marriage, does it?”
This time, she answered quickly. “Maybe not for you, but John and I had a wonderful partnership. A wonderful marriage. I—I don’t expect to find that again.” She leaned toward him and stroked his cheek. “You’re a good man, too. But you’ve got nothing to worry about with me, Rick. I’m as happily single as you are.”
They were both lying. He could prove it right now. “And if another John came into your life…?”
He could practically see the glow around her. She’d just viewed her personal heaven on earth
. Not even on their best days had Theresa ever looked at him that way.
“Your husband was a lucky son of a gun.”
“I was lucky, too.” She rose from her chair and sat on the edge of his. “You sound…I don’t know…forlorn…right now. Not your usual self.” Leaning over, she put her mouth on his.
He didn’t need a pity kiss. But he wanted her. This strong woman with the soft edges. Wanted her to want him, too. Nothing else mattered at the moment. He pulled her closer, hungry to taste, needing to know. Now his mouth covered hers, hard, searching. His tongue explored her lips, tongue, the recesses of her mouth.
She opened—and danced with him.
His heart took off at Mach speed and his pulse followed. He was on fire. A teenage boy had nothing on him.
From somewhere behind him, however, he heard a voice call, “Rick—we found it.”
Ashley. And Quincy. His and Kris’s interlude was over.
He left a trail of kisses along Kristin’s jawline and headed toward her neck. She murmured a protest and tried to lock lips again.
“Ashley’s here,” he whispered.
“What? Where?” Kristin was totally disconcerted…and adorable. And now as pink as if she was sunburned.
“If you can stop blushing,” he murmured, with his arm still around her, “and just sit quietly, she won’t notice a thing.”
“If we’re lucky…” Kristin whispered back.
“How come you’re both on that chair? It’s going to break.”
Kristin started to rise, and he let her go. If she thought it was better to move than to stay still, that was her call. She was the alpha wolf in her family, just as he was the alpha with Quincy.
Ashley walked closer, holding the tackle box in front of her with two hands. She placed it on the ground next to Rick’s chair and straightened up.
“Ohh. He’s got lipstick marks on his face. I get it. You kissed him, Mom.” She whirled around to face her mother. “How come?”
Ash seemed confused, uncertain. Kris would probably feel guilty. Maybe he’d just spoiled his relationship with both of them when he’d coaxed Kristin’s soft kiss to incendiary levels.
Linda Barrett - Count on a Cop Page 8