Crystal Jordan: If You Believe

A big, muscular man leaned against the side of a Crown Victoria outside her shop. His gaze followed her as she left Jericho and walked over to meet him. That had to be Chief Delacroix. He looked too much like Mason to be anyone else. In a town as small as Cedarville, she could identify everyone who lived here on sight. And this man had never been in her coffee shop. A shame too. He certainly was pretty to look at—even better looking than Mason, and that was saying something.

He looked her over, assessing her. Something sparked in his green gaze but was masked in a professional demeanor before she could decide what it was. “Mrs. Mathison?”

“It’s Ms. and call me Aubrey.” She offered her hand for him to shake.

“Price Delacroix.” He had the world-weary cynicism in his eyes that made her look twice. Everything about the man made her come back for a second helping. Emerald eyes, tanned skin, close-cropped dark hair, muscles that rippled under his shirt and slacks. Yum.

When his big hand engulfed hers, a shiver of pure sex went down her spine. Oh baby. She swallowed and tried to come up with something intelligent to say. “The new police chief. From L.A.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She winced at the ma ’am. Jesus, she wasn’t that old. Thirty-four was not old damn it.

He jerked his chin towards the coffee shop, indicating that she should precede him. She fished around for her keys and headed for the side door. The heat from his big body embraced her, and she felt crowded up against the door. Her hormones made it clear they wouldn’t mind a bit more crowding. She cleared her throat. “So what brings you to Cedarville?”

The first thing that hit her when she opened the door was the stench. Acrid. Smothering. Disgusting. Her business always smelled of coffee and baked goods. Now it made her stomach turn. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I wanted a change of pace.” His gaze swept the big room where she kept most of the industrial size ovens and cooling racks. An enormous stainless steel prep table dominated the middle of the room. Through a swinging door opposite of the side entrance was the main room where the fire had happened. Even from here she could see damage.

Smoke and soot had stained the ceiling. Black dust covered everything. The swinging door was twisted and warped from heat.

“Burn out, huh?” She grabbed on to the conversation with the police chief for dear life. Anything to keep from thinking about how long this was going to close her shop for repairs. She turned her back on the damage and faced him. A lot of city people moved to Cedarville to get away from the high pressure of city life. She should know—she was one of them.

“Something like that.” That cynical gaze swept down her body, and she saw what kind of assessment he was doing.

Sexual, carnal.

Heat followed in the wake of his gaze. Her fingers tightened into fists, what was wrong with her? Her livelihood was trashed and she was getting wet over some guy she’d just met. Then again, if her business was in shambles, wringing herself out with a pretty man was a nice distraction. A slow smile curled her lips, and she gave him a very thorough and obvious once-over. “Married?”

“I was once. I’m divorced. You?” He crossed his arms over his chest, and she could see the delineation of his big muscles through his dress shirt.

She shook her head. “Same. Kids?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.” So you could meet your soul mate today. Jericho’s words came back to her in a quick rush, but she pushed the thought away. Soul mate? Yeah, right. Bedmate? We might have a winner here. She grinned.

If You Believe: Unbelievable, Book 1

He arched a brow, but smiled back. Man, he had a killer smile. A flash of white teeth and the sexiest dimples she’d ever seen. His expression said he knew exactly what she was thinking, and he more than reciprocated, but his voice was all business. He pulled a pad of paper and pen out of his suit jacket. “I’m here to take your statement. About the fire.”

She nodded and forced herself to face the destruction. It was just as bad as it had been, and she swayed a little on her feet as the details bombarded her again. Strong arms caught her, tugged her against a broad chest. She leaned against him, buried her nose in his chest and inhaled the scent of him and his spicy cologne, and let herself be weak for a moment longer. But the feel of his hard planes molding to her softer curves sent a shock of lust through her that curled her toes. One of his hands stroked up her spine and bracketed the nape of her neck, tilting her head back until she looked him in the eyes. They really were the most incredible shade of green. Her body reacted, loosening some muscles, tightening others as it prepared for sex. She could feel the impressive length of his erection riding against her belly. Moisture flooded her core, and her pussy clenched. Her nipples hardened while the rest of her melted against him, a throb of utter want going through her. His gaze sharpened, focusing on her lips and she was certain he was going to kiss her. The heat reflected in his eyes was enough to burn.

Burn.

The word jolted her back to reality. She was standing in her burned-out building ready to shove a man she’d only just met against the nearest wall and jump his bones. What the hell was the matter with her?

“Are you all right, Ms. Mathison?” His voice was a harsh rasp, showing that he was as affected by this as she was. It was a very small comfort. His grip on her eased, and her hormones whimpered at the loss of contact. His tone gentled. “Aubrey?”

Forcing herself to pull away, she shoved a hand through her newly shortened hair and waved the other in a vague circle that encompassed the room. “I—I’m fine. Sorry about that. It’s shocking seeing it like this.”

“It’s hard to see something you love in shambles.” He squeezed her shoulder gently before stepping away. “Are you ready?”

She swallowed and nodded. Somehow it was bearable with him there as a solid, steady presence. It emanated from the man—rock-solid, dependable, a man who’d seen it all and still held people’s hands when their lives fell apart.

Like he had with her. It was odd to know so much about him in just those few moments of interaction, but somehow she was certain she wasn’t wrong. She could understand why they’d hired him as police chief.

Working their way through the shop, she explained the details of what happened the day before. What she could remember of it. Some of it was a confused blur of chaos, heat and panic. She doubted she’d ever remember all of what happened clearly. Her throat was parched and swollen from all the talking when she came to a halt beside the stove. “So, are we done here?”

“Yes.” He tucked his pen and paper back in his jacket. “You can pick up the report this afternoon.”

“Thanks.” Then she’d have make sure it got to her insurance agency, schedule some estimates for repairs, close down until the repairs were complete and they got the horrible stink out of her shop. A headache throbbed behind her eyes when she started making a list of everything she had to do, and she shoved all thought of the delicious Chief Delacroix from her mind. She had bigger things to deal with.

If Jericho was right, and the Big Man Upstairs did this on purpose, she was ready to kick Him in the shins for it.

A week later, she was checking the progress on Bean There, Done That. Her insurance agent was still duking it out with the company that had installed the sprinkler system, but she’d gotten the green light on starting repairs. She had a feeling Price had stepped in and smoothed over a few bumps for her in that little snafu. He’d never said anything about it, but he’d been by a few times to see how she was doing, always polite, always watchful, always with that simmer of too-tempting awareness in his gaze.