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“Somebody smart, adventurous. Nice.”
Yep. Yep. Sometimes.
So far, so good.
“Somebody who wants the simple things and isn’t so busy climbing a corporate ladder she can’t spare a minute of compassion for anybody else.”
That sounded like a story. Before she could ask him about it, though, he continued.
“A small-town teacher who’s gorgeous and funny as hell seems to fit the bill.”
Small-town teacher? Simple? Not a ladder-climber?
Oy. Those definitely didn’t describe her. It might sound like the Lindsey he was getting to know, but he didn’t know the real woman.
Sadness stabbed her, because, the truth was, if he did meet the real her, he probably wouldn’t be interested anymore.
“So?” He stepped closer. “Give me a chance. Give us a chance.”
She let out a heavy sigh.
She wasn’t the kind of woman he wanted. She was too susceptible to his charm, already too eager to spend time with him. But if he asked her to come over so he could cook her dinner, she’d probably stay through breakfast, and they both knew it.
She did not want to be the kindergarten teacher who did the walk of shame a week after her arrival in the nicest town on earth. Especially because, after the sex, she greatly feared she’d still be left with the liking, the admiration, all the damned emotions she didn’t want to have about any man she slept with.
And when he found out who she really was, what she really did and why she was here, he probably wouldn’t have any feelings toward her at all. Other than resentment or anger if she ended up costing him a job he needed and wanted.
No. It couldn’t happen. They couldn’t work.
“I’m sorry, Mike,” she said, pleading with her eyes for him not to press her. “I just can’t.”
He stared at her in silence, watching her face, as if to gauge her determination. She sensed he was disappointed in her, even though she’d been honest from the beginning about what she was here for...and what she was not here for. He might have had the kind of week that made him change his mind. She hadn’t.
“All right,” he said with a resigned shrug. “You win.”
No, actually, she hadn’t won. In fact, she greatly feared they had both lost something. But considering where she was at this point in her life, there was really nothing she could do about it. Which just might break her heart, even if she didn’t have the guts to open it up and let a smart, sexy guy into it.
6 (#ubaaa0557-c95f-5ea4-8a18-7c09d0b19ab3)
“CHIEF, WE HAVE a problem, a very serious problem. I demand that you do something about it.”
Mike glanced up from the paperwork he’d been filling out—a requisition for some new computer equipment for use by the dispatcher—as his previously closed office door burst open without a warning knock. A member of the island’s governing council stormed in, bringing a cloud of righteous indignation and heavy perfume with her.
“Hello, Mrs. Franklin. Have a seat.”
He wondered if she heard the surprise in his voice. She was a pain in the ass, but she usually only barged in during daylight hours. It was now midevening, close to 9:00 p.m., and he’d expected a quiet Saturday night until his shift ended at ten. But apparently it wasn’t to be
He closed his folder, clicked his pen and put it down, watching as the tall, stick-thin woman with the blue-gray hair situated herself on the edge of the chair fronting his desk. She was probably his least favorite member of the council, being one of the stuffiest, most uptight people he’d met since moving here.
Mrs. Franklin was a descendent of one of the town founders and never let anyone forget it. She ran a general store up the street and considered herself the premiere businessperson of Wild Boar, having an opinion about everything and everyone. The other council members were men, and every one of them was terrified of her. He’d only been here a few months, but he was beginning to understand why. The woman had the constitution of a pit bull hidden in that gaunt frame.
“Now, what seems to be the problem?” he asked, tenting his fingers on his desk.
“Someone is peddling smut in Wild Boar,” she snapped.
His finger-tent fell. “Excuse me?”
“Filth is filling our streets, damaging the brains of our youth and threatening our entire way of life. Mainland corruption and vice have spilled into the water and landed on our shores.”
Wow. Quite a speech. And judging by the precisely chosen words and deliberate emphasis, a speech she’d rehearsed before coming in here. The violent nodding of her head and twitching of her mouth said she was working herself up to continue.
He cut her off before she could. “Why don’t you tell me what the problem is.”
“The problem is the insidious intrusion of pornography into our community.”
“Pornography?”
She jerked her chin up, her mouth tightening to the size of a quarter in disgust as she reached into her large purse and pulled out a towel-wrapped object. She dropped it onto his desk with a deep, pained grimace.
“See for yourself.”
He was almost scared to look. What, he wondered, would this prude of a woman constitute as pornography? Had somebody lent her the DVD set of the second season of Friends or something?
His curiosity aroused, he unfolded the corners of the towel, realizing right away the item was too small to be a DVD case. In fact, it was only about three-by-five inches, and was actually a book.
Reading the title, he held back a smile. Though the color illustration on the front was graphic, it was also artistic. As, he’d heard, was this particular book.
“Do you see?” she asked, tapping the tip of her finger on his desk with a sharp little peck. “Filth.”
“Ma’am, this is a copy of the Kama Sutra.” Not Big Tits and Dongs on Parade.
“I can read, Chief Santori,” the woman said, her tone as tart as her personality.
“I don’t think this book is considered pornography. In fact, it’s a revered, ancient Indian text, I believe.”
“Smut,” she said, leaning forward and whipping the book open. She swiped her fingers through the pages, angrily tapping at the illustrations. “Just look!”
“Umm. Interesting,” he said, trying to figure out how that could go there. “Where did you get this?”
“It was discovered on the very streets of our town.” She fanned herself with her hand. If she’d had some smelling salts on hand, he’d bet she’d use them to fortify herself for this horrible mission she’d undertaken. “A child found it. Can you imagine? A vulnerable child.”
Oh, hell. That was pretty awkward. “Who was it?”
“Annie Morgan’s son, Tim.”
Mike frowned. If he was remembering correctly, the Morgan boy was a senior in high school. Not exactly an innocent first grader emotionally damaged by glimpsing some artistically drawn sexual positions.
“Annie discovered it in his room.”
Huh. Tim Morgan should find better places to hide the stuff he didn’t want mommy to see. Hell, Mike and his brother Leo, who’d shared a room growing up, had pulled the grating out of their heater element to stash their Playboy magazines and condoms.
“How did the book come to be in your possession?”
“Well, Annie was hysterical and called her sister, who’s the hairdresser of the daughter of my bridge partner.”
Yadda, yadda. And the book had eventually found its way into the hands of the town’s arbiter of good taste and dignity.
“Did Tim say where he got it?” he asked, betting she’d say it was from another kid at school and that all of them were rotten little sinners.
“He said he found it on the ground in the municipal parking lot, right near the school! Can you imagine?”
A bell went off in Mike’s mind. He froze, his heart pounding as a strong suspicion washed over him.
Lindsey had come to the island with a case of erotic books and toys. He hadn’t noticed this one in her box of tricks, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hers. Had she perhaps had this one in her car, and had it then fallen out in the parking lot?
Or, wait...the laptop bag. She’d dropped it yesterday when he’d followed her out of the coffee shop. She’d been flustered and in a hurry, digging for her keys. If, for some reason she’d put the book into the case, it was possible that it had fallen out without her realizing it.
“Well, what are you going to do about this?”
“Mrs. Franklin, there’s nothing illegal about somebody being in possession of this book. You can walk into any bookstore on the mainland and buy it.”
“Well, it’s illegal here!”
“No, ma’am, it isn’t,” he replied, knowing he was right. He’d memorized the town charter and local ordinances. There was nothing prohibiting sexy illustrations.
That was handy for old man McBride and what he had hanging up on the office wall of his gas station. Mike still hadn’t gotten over the man’s cartoon porn, and would never be able to watch a Disney movie again without remembering McBride’s artistic talents.
Mrs. Franklin shot him a warning glare, her deep frown lines going from each side of her pursed mouth down to her jaw. “I think I’m better acquainted with the law around here than you. I want the perpetrator found and arrested.”
His anger rising, he snapped, “Should we put up the stocks and have the villain displayed in the town square, too?”
The older woman jerked her head up, apparently shocked at being talked back to. Mike had always tried to remember to respect his elders—and his employers—but this was beyond ridiculous.
“You do realize you are still on probation here, Chief.”
“I couldn’t possibly forget it,” he admitted. The couple of months remaining in his agreed-upon trial period had never seemed as long as they did right now.
“I am telling you, do your job and arrest this purveyor of smut.”
He rose from his seat, leaning over his desk, his hands flat on top of it. “And I’m telling you, there’s nothing illegal about this book.” His eyes narrowing and his jaw clenching, he added, “There’s not a damn thing you, or I, or anyone can do about it, except to remind people to please be careful not to drop their private reading materials on the ground.”
That was exactly what he intended to do. Tonight, in fact. Because if Lindsey was, indeed, the owner of this manual, he needed to tell her that she’d lost it, and who had found it. He certainly wasn’t going to let her walk in blind to that school Monday morning and encounter a firestorm of gossip. Knowing Mrs. Franklin, there would definitely be lots of that. Hell, she’d probably demand that the principal call an assembly so they could grill every kid to find the “pervert.”
Shaking with indignation, the woman who was, technically, one of his bosses, stood up and yanked her purse against her chest. “We’ll see about this.”
“Careful of the step as you leave,” he reminded her, crossing his arms over his chest, not budging an inch.
She opened her mouth then snapped it closed. But the thrust-out jaw and narrowed eyes said she wasn’t going to let this drop.
That could be a problem, not just for him, but also for Lindsey. And for her friend Callie Parker, who sure didn’t need to add a heaping of hometown scandal to what sounded like an already pretty full plate. Callie had recommended Lindsey to the school administration. If the busybodies found out Lindsey had been the one to drop what they considered “filth” close to the school grounds, they’d crucify her—and Callie, too.
So it was time he found out if his theory was true, that it was indeed Lindsey who had lost the book. It was also past time to uncover what else she’d been hiding. Because if she was just a schoolteacher, then he was just a kid playing cops-and-robbers. Maybe whatever secret she was keeping might explain why she was so reluctant to pursue any kind of relationship with him. Considering how intense their chemistry was, something big had to be holding her back.
He wanted to find out what that something was. Because he hadn’t been kidding when he’d told her yesterday that he was interested in a lot more than just sex. He was falling for her, fast and hard, and he wanted Lindsey in his life any way he could get her.
Even though it was late, he couldn’t let the matter wait until morning. So, grabbing the “evidence” and dropping it into his jacket pocket, he left the station and headed for Lindsey Smith’s cottage.
Frankly, he didn’t know what he was hoping she’d say. That the book was not hers, and he’d be left trying to find its true owner?
Or that she’d say it was...and he’d be left wondering just how many of those erotic positions Lindsey might like to try.
With him.
* * *
WHEN LINDSEY HEARD the sharp knock on her front door, she dropped the novel she’d been reading and shot straight up in her bed. Glancing quickly at the clock and seeing it was nearly 10:00 p.m., she leaped up and grabbed her robe.
The second thing she grabbed was her cell phone. No, she didn’t get great reception, but it was closer than the house phone in the kitchen.
It was kind of ridiculous that she was more jittery living here on this nice, homey little island than she’d ever been in Chicago. Perhaps it was because she just wasn’t cut out to be a loner. Her new home stood on a jut of land that was at least a mile from the closest neighbor. Other than the skree of insects and the lapping of the waves on the nearby shore, she lived in near silence.
It grated on her nerves. She was used to traffic and shouting, to carryout, taxis, commuter trains, fast food and crowds. Not this. Not absolute quiet that, when interrupted by a knock on the door at night, seemed ominous and dangerous.
But what if it’s your friendly island cop paying a call?
On one hand, that could be nice. She trusted Mike. Though she had no idea why he’d show up at her door at this time of night, she wasn’t the least bit frightened of that possibility.
On the other hand, if it were Mike’s obnoxious coworker, Officer Ollie, she should definitely worry.
She’d seen the man in a few places this past week, and each time she’d gone out of her way to avoid coming face-to-face with him. Still, she’d caught his eyes on her—once in the grocery store, once in the diner. He’d tried smiling, and, when she didn’t respond, had ended up narrow-eyed and angry.
Angry enough to come down here and harass me?
God, she hoped not. She had packed away her big penis-weapon in a box which was now buried in the back of her closet, so she couldn’t beat him up with that.
Another knock. Still clutching the phone, she tightly tied the sash of her robe and crossed through the bedroom and the living room to the front door.
“Who is it?” she asked, not so much as lifting a hand to undo the dead bolt.
“Lindsey, it’s Mike. I need to talk to you.”
Relief flooding through her, she dropped the phone onto the foyer table, unlocked the door and pulled it open. “You scared me.”
He offered her a half smile. “This isn’t Chicago. There hasn’t been a home invasion on Wild Boar for as long as anybody can remember.”
“I know. It’s just, the quietness is eerie. I certainly wasn’t expecting somebody to knock on my door. Why did you?”
“Can I come in and explain?”
