by Jayne Denker
Nora hefted the plastic pitcher of water and turned to go. “Because I like you, kid. You’re getting a lot of crap from folks around here, and I don’t think you deserve it.”
“That makes one of you, then.”
“Be grateful you’ve got the one.”
“Does feeling sorry for me get me free dessert? Those pies in the display case look amazing.”
“Don’t push it, kid.”
“I’ll buy you a piece of pie,” Will said as Nora walked away. “Casey’s fiancée George makes them—they’re as incredible as they look.”
“George?”
“Georgiana Down.”
“I don’t think I know her.”
“That’s because up until a few years ago, she wasn’t around. She took off after she graduated from high school, barely came around while she was in college, and after that, you couldn’t drag her back for anything.”
“I like her already.”
“Now you couldn’t pry her out of here with a crowbar.”
“Which proves Marsden really does warp brains.”
He smiled patiently. “She loves Casey, and her sister Sera and her family. Everything else around here she takes with a grain of salt. One the size of Mount Rushmore, but still. She’s learned to adapt. It is possible, you know.”
“Is this your way of trying to get back on the subject of what I’m doing after this thing comes off?” Jordan stretched her right leg sideways out of the booth and hiked up her pant leg. “I’ve gotta admit, I won’t be sorry to see this anchor go.”
“Jordan, what the—?” Will groaned.
“What?” she demanded. “What’s wrong now?”
“Let me see that.”
“Oh, you like?”
She slid down in the booth until her toes touched the opposite seat, next to his leg. Cupping his hand under her heel, Will lifted her foot and pushed up her pant leg again. He heaved a sigh. “Really?” The ankle monitor was covered in multicolored dots, swirls, hearts, flowers, and geometric shapes. And tiny sparkling rhinestones. “I thought you bought all that nail polish for your nails.”
“Hey, I’ve only got ten fingers and ten toes.” She wiggled her fingers at him; her nails were painted in alternating colors, turquoise and lime green. “I did my toenails in hot pink and yellow. But then I had all this left over. And I got bored. Hey, it’s almost art, isn’t it? I arted!”
“Very psychedelic. Unfortunately, you didn’t pay attention to the rule about not altering the device in any way, did you?”
“What, altering, like trying to cut it off or take out the battery or whatever? I know about that.”
“It also goes for bedazzling the thing.”
Jordan stared at him for a moment. “I don’t know what’s worse—that you’re telling me I’m going to get in trouble for decorating it, or the fact that you just used the word ‘bedazzled.’”
He eased her foot back onto the floor, reluctantly removing his hand from the back of her leg. “For your sake, I hope your probation officer is really nice.”
“I could be really nice to him first.”
“Don’t even.”
“Or her. I’m an equal-opportunity . . . opportunist.”
“Stop.”
“I can tell you all about it when I get back, if that’s what you’re into.”
“‘When’?”
“If. Did I say when? I meant if.”
“You can come back, you know. After all, you’ve still got a project going on here: making nice with the locals.”
“And that gets me what, exactly?”
“Good karma.”
“Ooh, using my ‘airy-fairy woo’ against me. Nice work.” She sighed. “Well, I could come back, I suppose, but not for the good karma. I have Fred to take care of, for one thing. And I have a party to go to.”
“What party?”
She bugged her eyes at him. “Um, Cam’s? Did you forget already? He left an invitation stuck to my door with a bloody knife yesterday. It was a nice touch, even though I could tell it was raspberry jam, what with the seeds and all. Does he always go out of his way to do stuff like that?”
Will slowly brought his napkin to his lips. “No,” he said curtly. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Are you going to the party?”
“I have to work. They need all hands on deck on Halloween.” And suddenly he was glad he had somewhere else to be. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be witness to his brother’s machinations, especially if Jordan was his target.
Chapter 11
“Boo. Or grr. Or . . . wait . . . what does the devil say?”
“Whatever comes out of your mouth is what the devil says.”
“Nice, Wakefield,” Jordan said, adjusting her headband with sparkly devil’s horns as a warm breeze tossed her hair around. “I thought you weren’t coming to the party.”
Will raised an eyebrow at Jordan’s makeshift costume, which consisted of the headband, a red tank top, a black miniskirt, black studded choker, and red heels.
“What? I was a little pressed for time. And what about you? I thought you didn’t wear your uniform as a costume.”
“I’m not here as a guest. I’m still on duty.”
“It’s, like, one o’clock in the morning.” One o’clock in the morning? How lame was it that she’d stayed this long, even when she didn’t want to? Well, she was enjoying being in a crowd—even if some of the other people looked at her sideways, as always—instead of back in her grandmother’s house, alone. She’d enjoyed sitting on the porch, giving out candy to the steady stream of trick-or-treaters, but once even the high school kids with rubber masks and pillowcases of candy stopped coming around, it had gotten a little too quiet. So why not go to Cam’s party?
“Police officers don’t turn into pumpkins at midnight. Once the kids are done, we check the adult parties, make sure everyone’s behaving themselves.”
Will might have been telling the truth, or he might have been making excuses. At the moment, she didn’t really care. She was just glad he was there. She’d missed him.
Oh no. She’d missed him.
Sure, she’d said she had to come back to town for the party and for Fred, but she had to add Will to the list . . . and she certainly was glad he was here. The party was, if Jordan had to admit it, kind of boring. Cam had made a huge fuss over her when she’d first come through the door, but he’d gone off into the crowd soon afterward, leaving her to fend for herself. She hadn’t really minded; she’d been telling the truth when she’d told Will she wasn’t interested in his brother. The guy was a bit of a flake. Like she was one to talk, but still.
Since she’d lost sight of Cam, she’d wandered through the party on her own, nursing one beer, until she’d drifted out to the front lawn where she’d spotted Will. And that had made the night a whole lot brighter all of a sudden. Not that she could come right out and say it, of course, so she didn’t say anything at all.
Neither one of them was saying anything, in fact. She had to fix that before things got stupid.
“Hey, I brought you a present.” She pulled her ankle monitor out of her small purse and dangled it by the strap.
“Why do you still have it? I didn’t think they gave them out as souvenirs.”
“Because I ruined it, my probation officer said. It’s unusable. Now it’s mine.”
“So it is a souvenir.”
“Um . . . not exactly. It’s a reminder that I have to pay to replace it.”
“Ouch. Those things aren’t cheap.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Are you okay to pay for it?”
She stiffened. That was an issue, but nothing she wanted to share with Will, so all she said was, “I can handle it. Don’t you worry about me.”
“So, what, you bombed down to Monticello to meet with your probation officer, then came all the way back here . . . for my brother’s party?”
“I never miss a Halloween party if I can help it.”
“Where is C
am, anyway?”
“I have no idea. Probably trying to keep his hundred or so guests from trashing his house completely, if he has any sense.”
“Yeah, Summer would murder him if there was any serious damage.”
“Summer’s Cam’s wife? Where is she, anyway? What’s the deal there?”
“He’s been treating you like a special guest, has he?”
“Not particularly. But he’s throwing this party by himself, and at the pumpkin farm you made a point of letting me know he was married. So what’s that all about?”
Will shrugged. “I don’t really gossip . . .”
“I’m not asking for dirt, just the situation.”
“They’re . . . estranged at the moment. Spending some time apart as they work some things out. Summer’s in Cooperstown for a couple of weeks, painting some of the historic buildings.”
“Paint . . . ? Like, scaffolding and five-gallon buckets and historic-era-appropriate colors?”
Will laughed a little. “No. Watercolors and canvas.”
“Oh my God, the art thing again.”
“What’ve you got against art? Or are you just jealous?”
“Hey, do you think I care that I’m not like the rest of these people around here? I mean, look at this crew!” She waved her arm to encompass all the locals dressed in everything from passé zombie and vampire gear to slutty versions of everyday uniforms to low-rent costumes like balloons in a clear garbage bag as a bag of jelly beans. She thought all these so-called artists would be more creative with their costumes, but for the most part that wasn’t the case. Go figure.
“Good thing, because you definitely aren’t.”
“Darn right.” This was Marsden, and she wasn’t like everyone else, and she didn’t want to be like everyone else. Not even a little. She was pretty sure, anyway.
Besides, Will was implying her difference was a good thing. There he was, hands on his hips above his laden utility belt, in that impossibly simultaneously repellent but sexy uniform, his infernal radio yakking away, with a warmth in his eyes that stopped her in her tracks. The way he looked at her . . . sometimes it was just too much to handle. In her worse moments, she wondered if he were studying her the way he’d examine any suspect—trying to figure out what made her tick, trying to stay one step ahead of her in case she planned on breaking any more laws, looking for her weak spots he could exploit.
But deep down she knew he wasn’t. Instead, he was staring at her simply because he . . . liked looking at her, maybe? Maybe even liked her. Which would be crazy, considering all the shit she’d given him so far.
So when he said, probably to break the awkward silence that had descended again, “I think I’ll do a little walk around the perimeter,” Jordan jumped at the chance to stay near him.
“I’ll go with you.”
Will had started to walk up the steep front lawn, but he stopped short to stare at her. “What?”
She gave him her usual excuse. “I’m bored.” She cocked her head. “You amuse me.”
The crowd, which had spilled out of the house and into the yard on this unseasonably warm night, parted for him, and Jordan followed in his wake. Even in their various altered states, the partiers recognized a real police officer in their midst instead of someone in a cop costume. Jordan stifled a laugh when she noticed quite a few women going out of their way to greet Will and give him a hungry once-over.
“Hey,” she ventured, catching up to him as they pushed through the crowd toward the alley on the north side of the house. “You’re missing some primo opportunities, here.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Some of these ladies are eating you up with their eyes. Didn’t you feel one grab your butt back there?”
“Not interested.”
“Nora said you were an eligible bachelor.”
“And I’ve run into just about every badge lizard out there.”
Jordan couldn’t help it; a loud snort escaped her and she stopped walking. “Badge lizard?”
Will stopped as well, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s what cops call ’em. They’ll throw themselves at any man in uniform. Add alcohol, and it makes them ten times worse.”
“You mean ‘You’d better take me into custody, Officer—I’ve been a bad girl’?”
“Exactly. It gets . . . old.”
“Did you ever fall for it?”
“Back when I was young and stupid, I suppose I did. But I learned pretty fast. Now I just laugh it off.”
Jordan tutted. “Shame. I think they’re pining for you.”
“They can throw themselves at guys in police costumes tonight instead. The fake plastic handcuffs are easier to figure out anyway.”
“Ooh, do you speak from experience?”
“Jordan, for God’s sake . . .” And then he trailed off, his grin fading as he caught sight of a couple in a tight clinch on the back patio, in the shadows but not so secluded that they—or anyone else around them—couldn’t get a good view.
“Great costume,” Jordan whispered, agog, after watching the couple in action for a few moments. “Zombie nurse. I mean, she looks like a regular nurse, but that can’t be right—she’s eating his face off.”
Will didn’t laugh. Instead, he touched Jordan’s shoulder to turn her in the other direction, leading her away from the scene of carnal carnage.
His grim expression worried her. “What’s with you?”
“That was Cam.”
“I know.” Even if she hadn’t been able to get a good look at him, she’d have recognized those crappy moves anywhere. He hadn’t changed a bit.
Will sighed. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Well, yeah. Lousy technique. Sheesh.”
“No, I mean . . . he invited you to his party and . . .”
“You thought I was his date?” Jordan laughed. “No and no. I told you I don’t care about him.” Then the rest of her thought was out before she even knew what she was saying. “I’m a little distracted by another Nash brother.”
She felt light-headed all of a sudden, and she swallowed with difficulty. She’d said it; now she had to face the consequences. They were by the alley now, with only a few partygoers nearby. The music was muted here, and Jordan knew he’d heard her loud and clear. He swung around and fixed her with his intense stare as her pulse pounded in her neck.
“Wh—Jess?”
Her nerves evaporated in an instant. “Oh my God, will you stop being so stupid?”
Why was he acting so obtuse? He had to know . . . didn’t he? That she thought about him all the time, in ways she shouldn’t? That his patience and kindness had affected her more than she’d ever thought possible, and now she was just a sucker for more? But there he was, staring at her, and she thought maybe he really was just that uncomprehending, because he hadn’t moved a muscle. There she was, dressed to kill, no longer on the wrong side of the law, no longer off limits, and pretty much laying it out there, and still nothing.
Maybe he wasn’t stupid. Maybe he was paralyzed with horror.
She had to find out once and for all. Instead of walking away with one last, small shred of her dignity intact, she went toward him. One long step, and she reached out with both hands and grabbed the open collar of his dark blue uniform shirt, brought herself in close. Her heart was thudding under her skimpy top, and dimly she wondered if he could feel it against his chest. No. He had to wear his Kevlar on duty. She still had to get her point across.
She tugged a little more, until his face was close to hers. His warm breath heated her cheek, her lips. He was still staring at her, still not touching her. She fought past the urge to run. Now or never.
“Kiss me, you idiot.”
A pause as he studied her intently. Then, “No.”
Will put his hands on her waist and firmly pushed her one, two steps back.
Crap.
But he wasn’t done. The next thing she knew, Will had her by the arm and was tugging her d
own the alley. Startled at how forceful he was, Jordan stumbled to keep up. Shit, she’d made him angry, and now he was going to drag her back through the crowd and throw her off his brother’s property. Great.
“Hey, all right, forget it. I’ve had a couple of drinks, okay?” She hadn’t, but she was ready to say anything at this point to get him to stop walking, stop pulling her, turn and talk to her. She’d never seen him this upset, and she didn’t know how to handle it.
“No, you haven’t,” he tossed over his shoulder. “You knew what you were doing.”
“Okay, so what?” she challenged him. “I thought you liked me. I was wrong. If you hate me as much as the rest of this town does, that’s fine—”
“You know I don’t.”
He swung her around, planted her in one spot by the brick wall that made up one side of the alley. She didn’t dare move. Panting as though he’d just run a marathon instead of dragging her a hundred feet, he stood there, hands on his hips, staring at her but saying nothing.
She couldn’t let the silence descend again. “What?”
He held up his hand like he was stopping traffic, then turned his arm so he could check his watch.
“Hey—”
Will held up his hand once more. She fell silent. No easy feat for her, and she was sure he knew it. What the hell was he doing? Now he wasn’t looking at her at all, just staring at his watch. After a moment, he let out a long breath and said simply, “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“I’m off duty.”
Jordan had barely enough time to absorb the words, but not their meaning, when Will launched into her, slamming her against the wall. Hello, Officer. One hand against the wall, the other grasping her chin, he ducked his head, his heated lips closing over hers and stopping her breath. She didn’t care. William Nash was kissing the stuffing out of her, and that was all that mattered. It was nothing like she expected. But it was so, so much better. She’d expected gentle. She’d expected tentative. Hell, she’d expected chaste. This was none of those things.
He wasn’t rough, but he was insistent. And remarkably confident. Within seconds, he’d reduced her to a boneless mass of compliance, following wherever he led, out of sheer shock. Will’s lips were unbelievably soft, but the small amount of stubble after a long day at work, especially in the spot beneath the middle of his lower lip, was enticingly rough. The contrasting sensations made her crazy. A small sound escaped her—good grief, was that a whimper? But she couldn’t stop, especially when his tongue stole between her lips, seeking hers. She sank her fingers into his hair, shorter at the back but still far from a typical police officer’s close cut. She loved it. She played with his curls as she pulled him closer, farther into her.