by Maggie Wells
The second Ben cleared the entry, Lori ducked out. “Have a good time tonight,” she rambled. She waved when she saw Miss Delia, who was making her way up the walk with a covered plate in hand, and skittered across the lawn to where her car was parked at the curb. When she glanced back, she spotted Simon glaring at her from the center of the knot of people crowding his foyer. Reaching for the door handle, she called back an exuberant “Go, Dawgs!” before making her escape.
Chapter Eight
The day was going to be a total Monday and the sun was barely above the horizon. Lori didn’t simply hate sleepless nights; she resented them. She was living a righteous life, and yet she spent hours tossing and turning. For two nights in a row. And losing not one but two nights of sleep fretting over a man who may or may not have a moral compass irked her.
She felt a twinge of guilt for letting the thought creep in. It wasn’t true. She might want to vilify him, but Simon did have standards. The problem was, his standards stood in direct opposition to hers.
He had almost kissed her.
After reliving the almost kiss over and over again in her mind for thirty-six straight hours, she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted him to or not.
Dragging her feet, she trudged from the small lot beside the municipal complex to the front of the building. The moment she stepped onto the sidewalk, she was nearly mowed down by a couple jogging past. Stumbling back in her thick-soled utility boots, she let out a startled “Whoa!”
“Sorry!” Marlee Masters called without breaking stride, her golden ponytail gleaming in the early-morning light. Marlee smiled over her shoulder and gave Lori a wave. “Morning, Lori!”
“Morning, Lori,” a second, much deeper voice echoed. She blinked and spotted the man who’d caused her sleepless nights striding easily alongside Marlee. Simon Wingate was out jogging like nothing had ever almost happened between them. The jerk.
A tad more incensed than she probably should have been, Lori hustled around the corner and made a beeline for the main entrance. She barreled into the office with a full head of steam. The second her gaze fell on Ben Kinsella, she blurted, “Are you aware your girlfriend is running around town with Simon Wingate?”
Ben, who’d pulled an overnight shift on their current rotation, looked up and said, “Good morning to you too.”
“They’re jogging together,” Lori said, indignant he wasn’t sharing her irritation.
He rolled his neck to stretch it, then launched from his seat and thrust his hands into the air, yawning widely. “Better him than me,” Ben said with a tired smile.
“It doesn’t bother you?”
Both Ben and Julianne froze for a second, and Lori realized the question had come out with a touch too much vehemence. “Should it?” he asked calmly.
Heat crept up her neck. She stalked to the desk she shared with Mike and dropped her bag into the empty bottom drawer, all too aware she was making a fool of herself over nothing. Her ears burned and she grimaced. “No.”
Ben gathered his keys and wallet from his desk drawer. “You must not think much of me if you think I’m going to be intimidated by a guy they used to call Windbag.”
Julianne laughed, but Lori’s interest was immediately piqued. “Who called him Windbag?”
“Apparently, he was ahead of Marlee at Emory law. She says it took him a couple of months to realize most every kid there had a big-shot parent or two, but he became a cautionary tale. Simon Windbag.”
“I see,” Lori murmured.
And she did see. All too well. Rather than making her feel superior to Simon and his pompous past, she found herself thrust back to those early days of basic training when every soldier in her company ran their mouths too much.
“Yeah, so let’s hope your pal Simon has enough oxygen left in his lungs to keep up, because if there’s anyone who won’t let him live down a failure to keep up, it’s my Marlee.”
The pride in Ben’s commentary reminded Lori of the way her father used to brag about her shooting skills. An avid outdoorsman, Mateo Cabrera had taught his children everything about firearm safety, precision shooting and the responsibility of hunting only what the family could consume. She’d loved every minute spent under his tutelage. And by the time she was sixteen, she’d won every shooting competition in a three-county radius.
She hadn’t been shy about bragging either. When she entered basic training, she drove the other members of her company crazy with her boasting. When she dared to back her words with skill, their drill sergeant had dubbed her Annie Oakley. A nickname she later realized was sort of a backhanded honor. She was labeled a show-off. A fluke. A sideshow sharpshooter.
“Yeah, let’s hope he can keep up,” she said. “I’d hate to be the one to tell Wendell we broke his grandson.”
“Simon will hold up,” Ben said gruffly. “Okay, well, I’m out,” he announced. “You ladies have a good day. Call if you need me for anything.”
Lori waved, then pulled a random file from the drawer and spun back to her desk. When she looked up, she found Julianne’s bright green eyes fastened on her. “What?”
“Nothing,” the older woman answered, making it clear there was something.
“Out with it,” Lori demanded.
Julianne shrugged. “It sounded to me like Ben wasn’t the one who was jealous this morning.”
“What do you mean?”
“You weren’t concerned Marlee was running with Simon. You didn’t like that Simon was running with Marlee.”
Lori fixed her with a challenging look. “You make no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.”
Lori cringed and her cheeks heated. “Why do you think?”
“Because you’ve never been too terribly interested in Ben and Marlee’s relationship up until this point,” Julianne replied tartly. “She’s not the one you’re worried about.”
Lori flipped open the file folder she’d pulled from the drawer. “You should take the detective’s test, Julianne. You seem to find clues everywhere.”
Julianne chuckled. “Say what you want, but I have two eyes. You may think you’re inscrutable, but you’re not. In fact, you wear your feelings on your face more often than you think.”
Insulted, Lori gaped at the woman. “I do not.”
Julianne pointed at her. “Outraged,” she commented mildly.
“Am not.”
“Defensive.”
“Okay, stop it.” Lori spun away again.
Julianne chuckled. “I’m not nearly caffeinated enough to face this day, and I don’t think yogurt is going to cut it this morning. I’m going to run over to see if they have any of those egg-white wraps at the bakery. Do you want anything?”
Lori closed her eyes and envisioned the bakery case at Brewster’s. Her mouth watered, but her stomach was twisted in a knot. “Coffee would be great. Something flavored. Caramel macchiato?”
Julianne nodded. “Done.” She picked up her purse and strolled to the door. “You’ll listen for the phone?”
This was part of the routine. Lori smiled. “And an eye on the door.”
Julianne waved. “I’ll try not to let Camille hold me up for too long, but if anything juicy happened over the weekend, I’m going to have to get the details,” she warned.
Lori spun back and gave her a salute. “Understood.”
The door swung shut behind Julianne, and Lori clicked open the file containing the report she’d taken from Bella Nunes the night Lori had picked her up on Highway 19.
The girl looked so bedraggled and terrified—and young. She seemed so vulnerable—dumped out there without any money or ID. And maybe Lori had jumped in without getting all the facts first—something so unlike her. She was usually the slow, methodical one. But no. Something about Bella Nunes’s story lit a fire inside her. She wanted Coulter brought in, and she acted wi
thout making sure she had him sewn up. It was the kind of mistake rookies made, and it galled her to know she’d fallen victim to her own emotions.
She was stewing on all of this when the outer door opened. Lori closed the file. “Must not have been any juicy news this morning,” she commented, without looking up.
“Exactly what kind of juicy news were you hoping for, Detective Cabrera?” a smooth, deep voice asked in reply.
Lori’s head jerked up and she whirled, rising from her chair in one fluid motion. Then she found herself looking directly into the amber eyes of Samuel Coulter.
“What are you—” She caught herself, suddenly remembering this man was one of the residents of the county she was hired to protect and serve. Plus, she hated to admit he’d managed to burrow under her skin. After all, they hadn’t even met. Not officially. “May I help you?” she asked, striving for cool, professional detachment.
He stepped farther into the room, and it was all Lori could do to stand her ground. “I realize we haven’t been formally introduced, but I’m guessing I don’t need to tell you my name either.”
“No. What can I do for you, Mr. Coulter?”
Lori held her breath as he took a long, leisurely look around. Logically, she knew she had no cause to be concerned. She was armed. Skilled in about a dozen different ways to take a man down. Still, she caught herself reaching for the flap on her belt. Ben often teased her about fiddling with it when she felt uneasy or antsy. She curled her hand into a fist and lowered it to her side. The last thing she wanted to do was let Coulter know he had gotten the drop on her.
His quick glance at her hand told her he’d noted the movement. His lips twisted into a tight smile. “I wanted to stop by and speak to you in person.”
“Okay,” she said, lowering herself into her chair again.
He moved toward her with the loose-limbed grace befitting an invertebrate. Thankfully, Mike had left a bag of clutter he’d cleaned out of his patrol car on the guest chair positioned directly in front of her desk, so she gestured for him to take Julianne’s abandoned seat.
He settled himself onto the desk chair, planting the heels of his shoes on the waxed tile floor to keep the chair from rolling. They were expensive-looking leather moccasins. The kind meant to be worn with no socks. Lori hated herself for looking, but she caught a glimpse of tanned ankles sticking out from the hems of his artfully distressed designer jeans.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Coulter?”
“I wanted to come in and tell you directly I had no idea the girl you found working at my refuge was underage or reported missing.”
Lori found herself transfixed by the gold flecks in his amber eyes. How could a color so warm appear so...hard?
“Apparently, she’s been involved with one of my employees and led him to believe she was older than she is.”
He spoke in the soft, honeyed tones of a man born in the Deep South. His diction was cultured. Careful.
“I will, of course, speak to my employee when I am on the premises today—”
She watched him talk. The man was no doubt breathtakingly gorgeous. Lori wondered if he was indeed some kind of demon from hell dallying around with the mere mortals.
“But, since I had to come into town to pick up a package, I wanted to stop in and speak to you in person.”
“I appreciate that,” she said evenly. “But there was no need. There was an Amber Alert issued, and I was simply doing my job by reporting the sighting. I told your attorney I would have done the same if I spotted her at the Piggly Wiggly.”
She focused on a sticky note affixed to Julianne’s computer monitor and hoped it appeared she was looking at him. Lori didn’t want to appear intimidated, but she really wanted this conversation to be over as quickly as possible.
“Good. Right. As you should.” He slapped his hands to his denim-encased thighs and rose gracefully from the wobbly seat.
Coulter paused, a tiny frown line marring the perfection of his high, smooth brow. He peered down at her intently. “Somehow you and I managed to get off on the wrong foot,” he said, pairing the sentiment with a smile so tempting she totally identified with old Eve. “I seem to have offended you and I—”
Drawing on the same stubborn streak she’d used to plow through her stint in the army and her mother’s disapproval, Lori held up a hand to stop him. In doing so, she also partially obscured his ridiculously attractive face, which helped.
“It’s nothing personal, Mr. Coulter.”
His smile didn’t falter, but it shifted ever so slightly. The wattage had somehow switched from full power to a backup generator. His eyes, though. Those disturbing golden-brown eyes cooled a few degrees. “It feels personal, Deputy.”
Such a blunt admission from a man who wielded so much money and power might have thrown her off balance, but she’d handled all manner of manipulation over the years. Coulter was offering up his so-called feelings as bait. But she wasn’t biting.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She tried to keep the smile cordial. “I assure you, in both instances, I was merely following up on information brought to my attention. If either Sheriff Kinsella or Deputy Schaeffer had been the officer Ms. Nunes confided in, they would have done exactly the same thing.”
“The sheriff and your fellow deputy didn’t feel the need to visit my park,” he said, drawling the observation and somehow twisting it into an accusation.
“I wanted to see the place.” She didn’t offer him any reason why. She didn’t believe he deserved one. “I paid the admission.”
He lifted a hand, his long, graceful fingers curled slightly, as if he couldn’t be bothered to dig down and find the energy to straighten them all the way. He stared directly into her eyes, and though she cringed inside, she didn’t look away. “I have security cameras mounted all over the park.”
A ripple of foreboding scurried down her spine, but she didn’t dare break eye contact, half-afraid he would strike the second she did. “Good to know,” she managed to say, her voice surprisingly even. She somehow injected another millimeter into her smile.
His expression was sardonic. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
Lori gripped the edge of her chair, her fingernails digging into the fabric of the cushion. She refused to cede their staring contest. “My sister discovered she didn’t have much of a stomach for snakes.”
He nodded slowly, but she’d swear the man didn’t blink. “Not everyone does. How about you? What did you think?”
Her chin came up a notch. “I’m not afraid of them, but I can’t say I’m a fan.”
“Fair enough,” he said, stretching the words out. He ducked his head, breaking eye contact.
She met him platitude for platitude. “To each his or her own.”
He’d made a move for the door when it swung open wide and Julianne appeared with a tray holding to-go cups gripped in one hand, a white pastry bag dangling from her fingers. “You’ll never guess who I ran into—” She stopped when she spotted Samuel Coulter standing in front of her desk chair. “Oh, hello.”
“Hello.” He flashed his powerful smile at poor Julianne, and Lori would swear she saw the woman stagger back a step.
Julianne’s gaze shifted from Coulter to Lori, obviously trying to read the mood of the room. Lori wasn’t exactly sure what her face showed, but whatever Julianne saw there had the other woman straightening her shoulders and standing her ground. “Am I interrupting or is there something I can help you with?”
“No. Nothing,” he assured her with another of those devilish grins. “I was having a quick word with the deputy while I’m in town to pick up a package.”
Julianne slid the tray onto her desk and plopped the bag on top. She made a show of glancing at the slim watch on her wrist. “Pick up a package? You’re way too early for deliveries.” She gazed up at him with wide, innocent eyes, but there
was a pinch to Julianne’s lips. “The post office doesn’t open until ten, and the express delivery trucks don’t usually make it to Chet Rinker’s store until well after noon.”
Coulter’s friendly expression faltered. He must have realized Julianne was giving him the bless-your-heart treatment and didn’t appreciate it. “Well,” he murmured, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets and rocking back on the heels of those spendy leather shoes. “It’s a good thing I had my attorney sign for it on Saturday. Thankfully, I won’t have to do any sittin’ around waiting for the pony express to amble on through.”
To her credit, Julianne’s smile only dimmed slightly. “Smart thinkin’,” she agreed. Sliding past him to reclaim her territory, she busied herself with their coffee and pastries. “Now, I love young Simon, but I don’t mind admitting I miss seeing Wendell around town.”
“Me too,” Lori murmured.
One corner of Coulter’s luscious mouth jerked upward, but he stepped away. “Yes, well, if you ladies will excuse me, I’ll head on over to see ‘young Simon’ now.” He sauntered to the door. “You have a wonderful day.”
Lori caught her bottom lip between her teeth, not daring to even exhale until the door closed behind him.
“My word—” Julianne began, but Lori held up a hand to shush her.
“Wait. The man probably has the hearing of a vampire.” She half rose from her chair so she could watch until Coulter had exited the building entirely. Certain he was gone, she dropped back into her seat with a loud whoosh of air. “God, he gives me the heebie-jeebies,” she said in a rush.
“Does he?” Julianne eyed her curiously. “I was gonna say he’s handsome as Lucifer himself.” She rocked back in her chair and fanned herself with her hand.
“I had the exact same thought,” Lori admitted.
“Men like him are like catnip to some women,” she said, pointing to the windows.