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“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 about 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 (#ubaaa0557-c95f-5ea4-8a18-7c09d0b19ab3)
“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?”
“Yes, but her husband works here, and he’ll be at home most work nights. I barely know him. It would be really awkward.”
That did pose a problem.
“Maybe it’s not so bad inside,” she said.
He heard a note of optimism in her voice and didn’t have the heart to disagree. Hoping she was right, he pushed open the creaky gate and walked up onto the porch, the boards of which sank beneath his feet with every step. “Dry rot,” he said. “Be careful coming in and out of this place.”
She nodded. “Mrs. Wymer said the key is under the mat.”
“Let’s hope that part of the porch hasn’t collapsed and the mat’s not covering a giant hole,” he said, bending to check. Fortunately, the flooring was still intact and the key was in place. Retrieving it, he rose and unlocked the door. “Why don’t you let me go in first? I can’t say for sure there are wild animals in there, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a raccoon or some squirrels had made a home out of your cottage.”
“Oh, God, when does that ferry leave again?” she mumbled.
Considering that by the end of their journey, she’d appeared ready to drop to her knees and kiss dry land, she, too, must be very concerned about what they would find behind the locked door.
Fortunately, though, they were both wrong. Because, while Mrs. Wymer might not have been able to do anything about the outside, as soon as he pushed open the cottage door, he realized the inside had been cleaned and freshened. The air smelled of pine and the wood floors gleamed. The cushions on an old-fashioned sofa had been plumped, and fresh flowers sat on a coffee table in front of it.
“Thank heaven,” Lindsey said as she walked in, a smile breaking over her face as she looked around her new home.
There wasn’t much to see, and he could glimpse almost all of it from right where he stood. The front door opened into a decent-size living room. To the left was a small kitchen, and through a door to the right he spied a bedroom with, he had to note, a nice-size bed.
Don’t think about her bed. Mentally going down that road with this sexy woman would lead only to frustration and a need to get reacquainted with his hand.
“You really had me scared for a minute,” said Lindsey.
“I was scared myself. She must have hired somebody to come out and get things ready for you.”
Lindsey was crossing to the kitchen table, where a plastic-wrapped plate of cookies sat, decorated with a bow and a card. She opened it. “Yes, this says that’s exactly what she did.”
“Excellent.”
“Oh, I needed this so much I think I’ll offer her a kidney if she ever wants one. She says she left coffee, sugar and creamer, too!” She immediately turned toward the pantry, opening it and cooing when she spied a can of dark grounds.
Without waiting for an invitation, he went over to the coffeemaker and began to fill the pot with water from the tap. The two of them worked together, falling into a routine that was as normal as it was unexpected. They just...synced.
After the coffee was brewed, she poured him a cup without even asking if he wanted one. He took it, added some milk then joined her at the small kitchen table. She sipped at her mug, closing her eyes and sighing with pleasure.
Man, he liked how she looked when she was enjoying herself. Of course, he’d also liked how she looked on that boat, when she had not been enjoying herself.
“Want a cookie?” she asked.
Mrs. Wymer hadn’t been among those who’d offered him baked goodies, but he wasn’t about to refuse a homemade chocolate chip. He helped himself. Lindsey did not take one, still a bit green around the gills and content with her coffee.
“I should probably warn you,” he said, “this part of the island is really deserted this time of year. You won’t be having any neighbors stop by to borrow a cup of sugar.”
“I noticed.” A tiny frown line appeared between her eyes. “I never had neighbors borrowing sugar before, but this quiet will still really take some getting used to.”
“No doubt about it. I live right downtown and I still haven’t gotten used to how sleepy it is, even there. It’s just a different lifestyle compared to anywhere on the mainland.”
“What about the rest of the lifestyle? Have you gotten used to that?”
He wished he could reassure her, but he really couldn’t. “I think if you weren’t born here, it’s very hard not to feel like an outsider.”
“Cliquishness?”
“Not really,” he said, remembering all the offers he’d gotten from his new neighbors and colleagues. “The people are friendly...it’s just there’s a lack of common ground. Islanders have different outlooks, backgrounds, experiences.”
