Wendy Etherington - Sparking His Interest

“So we have an environmentally conscious arsonist?”

“Or someone whose grudge is simply with the owner.”

“Robert Addison. What’s he like?”

He’d just seen the man practically cheek-to-cheek with the mayor. Hadn’t she? “You haven’t met him?”

“No.”

You haven’t missed much. He’s a phony jerk, Wes thought, though he controlled the impulse to say so.

“You’re obviously not a fan of his.”

Surprised, he glanced at her.

“For a cop, your eyes are easy to read.”

He was staring into the expressive eyes in this pairing. “And I always thought poker was my game.”

She continued to stare at him. Something like interest, raw and sexual, passed through her eyes. “Maybe I’m just more observant than most.”

As desire clenched his stomach, his sense of duty to his job and his own needs warred. Though he broke rules more often than he played by them, he wouldn’t give in to this attraction. Cara Hughes didn’t seem the type to fall for compliments and a nice dinner out. She seemed standoffish and alone. Serious and easy to anger.

Like him.

He was dangerously fascinated by her. This woman with a sharp wit, who carried a pistol and investigated the grim crime of arson.

And did she really feel a connection with him, or was he just impressing his own desires onto her? He was probably making an idiot out of himself, smiling at her, staring at her, his hands itching with the need to touch her. It also occurred to him that he was sharing his theories with someone who could form her own ideas and probably didn’t need his two cents.

“Well, I’ll let you get to work. I guess I can go back to bed.” Wes turned away, an odd sense of loss churning in his belly. He liked her, he realized, and wouldn’t have minded working with her. Provided he could set aside the urge to jump her body, of course.

“I could use your help, actually.” She said the words quietly, after he’d already walked away a few steps. When he turned back, she continued, “Ben said he’d like for me to have a liaison with the local police.”

“Oh, he’ll be thrilled you’ve chosen me.”

She angled her head. “He suggested you.”

Ben? he wanted to repeat incredulously. For total opposites he supposed they got along okay. They’d even come through a weird instance last spring when Ben had married a woman Wes had dated briefly. Unfortunately, they continued to butt heads over everything else. Some part of him recognized they were just different people. They had different outlooks and temperaments. Ben valued conservatism and professionalism, and Wes tended to be more progressive and less likely to follow the rules. He really wanted just to sit down over a cold Budweiser and tell his brother all the insecurities and live-up-to-the-Kimball-heroism anxieties he had, but he hadn’t.

Probably because the conflict had run for many years, back to when Ben had been forced to take over as the leader of their family, when their father had died fighting a fire and their mother had fallen apart and retreated emotionally from all of them.

Wes’s resentment over being bossed by his brother no doubt stemmed from their differing personalities as well as the closeness in their ages. Their younger brother, Steve, who was also a firefighter, never seemed to have conflicts with anyone. Everybody loved him. Everybody wanted to be around him. Why couldn’t he follow Steve’s example?

Cara stepped toward him, reminding him he had other issues on his plate. “Robert Addison.”

Wes bobbed his head back. “He’s standing over there. Ask him yourself.”

Her gaze shifted. “He’s here?”

“Talking to the mayor. It’s Addison’s building. Somebody called him, I guess.”

“I guess,” she said, then shook her head. “I’ll get to him. Right now, I want to know what you think.”

Figuring he would regret his honesty, he plunged forward anyway. “He wears expensive clothes, drives a flashy car, owns a huge plantation house on a big hill. I’ll bet his underwear has designer logos on them. He’s sophisticated and smooth.” He paused, his gaze shifting to her face. “The ladies seem to like him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yippee. Just how wealthy are we talking about here?”

Addison wouldn’t be the first to target his own property for gain, he supposed. “Several million.”

“Business stable?”

“He’s well diversified.”

“Bad habits?”

He really liked her suspicious nature. “Not that I know of.”

“Nothing you can prove, you mean.”

Nothing he could even substantiate. Other than one personal experience, it was just a feeling. A gut reaction that said slime whenever Addison was around. Expensive slime, but still messy. Wes just plain didn’t like the guy as a person, as a man, so that opinion clouded any judgment of him the cop could form.

She paced next to him, her boots crunching against the gravel mixed with grass. “What about enemies?”

“Those he’s got plenty of.”

She stopped. Her eyes gleamed—like a hunter’s. “Yeah?”

“He’s rich, so some people automatically resent that. He’s fired people over the years. More resentment. He treats people as if they’re beneath him. And I—” He stopped. That was private. And old news.

“What? Why do I get the feeling there’s something personal here?”

He should have known she wouldn’t let that slide. “I just don’t like him.”

“He doesn’t sound like a likeable guy.”

You let your feelings get messed up with your professional judgment. The sheriff, his brother, even the mayor had said those words so often to him, he’d lost count. Did people really do that—separate the personal from the professional? Did other cops really look at rapists and think, He’s broken the law, violated a woman’s body, her personal safety and not think, He’s a scumbag who ought to be locked up for life?

I don’t think so.

To hell with it. “He’s not a likeable guy,” Wes said, meeting her gaze.

“And there are plenty of other people who feel that way.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Hmm.” She smiled suddenly, and he found the expression all the more welcoming considering their surroundings. All the more alluring because of the sober expression he’d first encountered. “At least we won’t have a lack of suspects.”

He returned her smile. “Probably not.”

She drew a breath, and again her eyes reflected more than just an interest in the case. He hadn’t imagined the glimpse of desire this time. The big question was: what were they going to do about it?

“It’s going to be interesting working with you, Lieutenant.”

He took a step closer to her. “You, too.”

His heart thudded as his gaze roved her face. He was crazy, feeling like this. So quickly. So intensely. He’d never worked with anyone he was attracted to. Could he ignore the sparks of attraction? Be professional? Reserved? He very nearly winced.

He’d have to. This case was the most intriguing to come along in a long time. And if he managed to slide in a dig or two, a moment of trouble for Robert Addison…all the better.

Her gaze slid to a point over his shoulder. Her eyes narrowed. She laid her hands on her hips and squinted. “Is there a reason Elvis would have an interest in this fire?”

Wes didn’t bother to turn around. Yep, life was about to get really interesting. “Oh, yeah. He’s the mayor.”

“WES, I’M SURE you’ll be fully prepared to explain this latest assault on our formerly secure community by 9:00 a.m. in my office,” the man, presumably the mayor, announced as he swaggered toward them. “Mr. Addison is very disturbed by this latest attack.”