Leslie Parrish - Fade To Black

She’d started having a suspicion, though, ever since he’d walked into her office yesterday afternoon.

“Maybe nice is overrated,” she murmured.

Finally, as if realizing he was watching her a little too closely, building the already thick tension between them, he shook his head, hard. “You’re right about the clothes. But I didn’t exactly pack shorts and flip-flops.”

She chuckled, unable to picture it, and glad he’d coasted back into safe territory. Away from that confusing awareness that seemed to wash over both of them at the most unusual times. Because if he wasn’t as aware of her as a woman as she was of him as a man, then she had no business calling herself female. Every intuition she owned told her it was true. And the words he’d said when he’d joined her at the diner the previous evening- If we’re going to do this -had repeated in her ears a whole bunch of times since.

He hadn’t been talking about working together, having dinner or a drink together. Something had made him say those words in that way, and something in her had responded, even if she’d managed to keep her cool and pretend she’d misunderstood.

She hadn’t misunderstood. She got the message loud and clear. She just didn’t know what she was going to do about it.

Dean gestured toward her own pants and shirt. “You’re not exactly up for a day at the beach yourself.”

“At least mine are lightweight and light colored.”

Unlike Taggert’s dark trousers and long-sleeved shirt. She’d bet money he’d had a long mental argument with himself over whether or not to remove the suit jacket. If they’d been in public, where others could have seen the.40 Glock strapped in the holster at his hip, she doubted he would have, no matter what he’d had packed in his overnight bag for his trip to Hope Valley.

“Just make sure you drink plenty of water,” she cautioned.

“I can handle myself,” he retorted as he unbuttoned his sleeves and shoved them up his thick forearms. Every inch of tanned skin he revealed glistened, though they’d been out for only an hour. The muscles flexing in those arms confirmed his strength, the blunt power of him.

“I noticed,” she muttered before she thought better of it. Oh, boy, had she noticed.

Fortunately, he either didn’t hear the frank interest in her voice, or didn’t correctly interpret it. “You look pretty capable of handling yourself, too.”

“I guess,” she admitted.

“You’ve been on the job somewhere else,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Virginia State Police down in Roanoke.”

He studied her. Thought about it. “How long ago?”

“I quit in May of ’oh-seven.”

She watched him make the connections. Saw the truth click in his brain.

“You responded to the attack at…”

“Yeah.” She didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t even want to remember what had happened that April day on that once-beautiful campus. The nightmares had finally ended. She’d do anything to make sure they didn’t return, and she put up a big mental stop sign to keep the memories tucked away in the darkest recesses of her mind.

“That’s rough.”

She nodded, then quickly changed the subject. “And you were a street cop if I’ve ever seen one. Something tells me ViCAP wasn’t your first stop in law enforcement.”

“ Baltimore Vice.”

“Knew it.”

“What gave me away?”

“Your boss screams fed. You don’t.”

“Was that a compliment?”

She stiffened, wondering how to answer. Because it had been. While she had noted his supervisor’s handsome looks, Dean’s outright ruggedness, the rough street edge, appealed to her more. A lot more.

Common sense said to keep that to herself. To maintain a professional wall, help this man get his job done, and push him out of Hope Valley as soon as possible. But Stacey suddenly wondered if common sense was just a little bit overrated.

The cop in her said it absolutely was not.

The woman who hadn’t been touched intimately by a man in more than two years had other ideas.

Stacey honestly wasn’t sure which of them was right. Their current situation demanded that she maintain a professional footing. Even so, she found herself unable to outright lie. “Yes, Special Agent Taggert. Unfortunately, I think it was.”

Suddenly averting his eyes, he swiped the back of his forearm across his sweaty forehead. As if he’d bitten off a little more than he could chew, given their current location. She didn’t know him well yet, but she suspected Dean wasn’t used to this. He didn’t know what the vibes between them were, what they meant, and where they were going. Hell, neither did she. But she wasn’t about to pretend they didn’t exist-there was that honesty thing again.

Having had enough of dancing around it, she cut to the chase. Stacey had learned as a kid that directness usually worked best with men. After all, she’d been raised in a house full of them, with no woman around. Maybe if she’d had a mother, she’d have learned the art of subtlety.

From her father, however, she’d learned bluntness.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

His jaw unhinged.

“Look, we both know there’s something here. What you said when you showed up at the diner last night proves it. Let’s just get it out in the open so it doesn’t get in the way of our work.”

Silence. He simply studied her, as if shocked that she’d been so candid. But finally, he admitted, “My divorce was finalized ten months ago.”

Oh. He’d been married. She had, of course, checked out his left hand to make sure she wasn’t letting herself get interested in someone unavailable. She just hadn’t figured him for the marrying type, which was probably pretty unfair, since most people saw her that way, too.

She’d get married someday. Probably. Maybe. If she found someone who understood her position on the whole kids issue. And if someone who could stand up to her-physically, mentally, emotionally-ever happened to wander into Hope Valley.

Her gaze lingered on him a moment too long… Not going there . “Divorced, huh? Bet that was fun.”

His gruff laugh acknowledged her sarcasm. “She remarried weeks later.”

“Ouch.” Knowing it was none of her business, she asked anyway. “I take it she… knew the guy before you two split?”

“Knew him? Oh, absolutely. In every way.”

Bitch . Stacey had never laid eyes on the woman, but her intrinsic honor and basic values revolted at one who’d cheat. Who’d cheat on him. “That’s rough.”

He shrugged. “But maybe not so surprising. We got married right out of college. For some reason she thought being married to a cop would be exciting and impressive.”

Snorting, Stacey replied, “Guess she doesn’t read statistics very much.” Divorce rates in law enforcement were staggering.

“She figured it out. Then she urged me to go for the FBI. I guess saying she was married to a special agent sounded more romantic at the watercooler than, ‘My hubby busts dope dealers on Charles Street.’ ”

“ViCAP. Uh-huh. I’ve heard that’s a regular hotbed of romance.”

His shoulders started to shake as, unbelievably, he began to laugh. They were sweating and shooing away mosquitoes, looking for a crime scene in the middle of nowhere, talking about something two near-strangers almost never openly addressed, and able to laugh about it.

She liked this man. A lot.

“We’re both better off. My son, however, is not.”

Sucking in yet another surprised breath, Stacey absorbed that tidbit. A hard-ass FBI agent. A former street cop. The sexiest, toughest-looking man she’d ever seen.

And a father.

Tension churned in her stomach, but she quickly swallowed it away. She was contemplating a fling with the man. Not any kind of long-term relationship. So the fact that he had a child was completely irrelevant. “How old?”