Beth Andrews - Do You Take This Cop?

She clutched the counter until the nausea passed. She’d brought this on herself by deciding to become a home owner rather than just renting a house. After all, what better way to hide than in plain sight? It’d taken her close to a year but she’d managed to save enough to buy her and Austin a whole new life, complete with birth certificates, social security cards and a credit history. It’d been worth every penny. By purchasing a house and becoming a full-fledged citizen of Kingsville, she was thumbing her nose at the people looking for her.

And proving she was ready to stay in one place longer than a few months.

“You can’t live without hot water for that long,” Britney exclaimed, as if Faith had admitted they’d be sleeping in the car a few nights. Which, sad to say, they’d had to do several times.

Faith hefted the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “It’ll be fine.”

Her stomach growled. When she’d gone down to her basement this morning to throw in a load of laundry, she’d been met with at least two inches of water. She hadn’t had time for even a cup of coffee let alone anything to eat.

And while she might hand over a few dollars to feed her son, she wasn’t about to waste money on herself. Especially since they’d have to buy lunch because she hadn’t had time to pack it.

“I’m going to put my stuff away,” she said. “If my ten o’clock gets here early, could you let me know?”

“Of course.”

In the break room Faith tossed her bags on a chair and groaned as the unmistakable scent of coffee reached her. She headed straight to the coffeepot on the counter by the sink, but stumbled over something. She frowned down at a metal toolbox in the middle of the floor.

Hopping over the damn thing, she poured herself a cup of sanity.

Cup in hand, Faith stepped back over the toolbox and crossed to the mini fridge. Her choices were limited to half a ham-and-Swiss sandwich from yesterday or strawberry yogurt. Cold snot, hmm? She chose the sandwich.

As she chewed, the knots in her shoulders dissolved. At least the worst was over. It had to be. Her day couldn’t possibly get any crappier.

She heard the back door open. “Hey, Faith.” A familiar masculine voice. “How’s it going?”

She viciously bit into her sandwich. There went her theory, blown all to bits. Guess she shouldn’t have tempted fate.

All she had to do was remain in character. Be polite, say hello and act as if she wasn’t, at this very moment and every moment, terrified of someone—especially this someone—finding out her secret. Resigned, she slowly faced Britney’s older brother.

There was no denying Nick Coletti was good-looking. That is if you liked tall, broad-shouldered guys with wavy dark hair, bittersweet-chocolate-colored eyes and Roman features. Her tastes had always run toward men in designer suits over ones in snug T-shirts, faded jeans and a tool belt hanging low on narrow hips.

Too bad she’d also chosen men based on the size of their bank accounts instead of what kind of morals they had.

“I’m fine,” she answered, sounding as prim as her husband’s uptight secretary. “And you?”

He grinned, his teeth flashing white against his tanned skin. “Couldn’t be better.”

So what if his smile did funny things to her? All that proved was that she was female. She hung her head so her hair hid her face as she fought for composure. What made her a nervous wreck was that, instead of a tool belt, the man usually wore a holster and badge.

“Great,” she mumbled, squeezing the sandwich out of shape. Reaching over to tear off a paper towel, she knocked the roll over. Nick caught it in one hand before it hit the floor.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, handing it to her. “You seem a bit—” her skin prickled under his scrutiny “—flustered.”

Yes, he’d flustered her. How crazy was that? Used to be a time when she flustered men.

She ripped off a towel and wiped the mustard from her thumb. As long as she kept her cool, he’d never suspect he put her on edge. She set the towels back on the table and crushed the used one in her hand before rewrapping the rest of her sandwich and putting it back in the fridge.

And damn him for making her lose her appetite when she wouldn’t have a chance to eat again for another three hours. “I’ve had a…hectic morning.”

He nodded and twisted open a bottle of water. But even as he drank, his eyes didn’t leave her. She calmly returned his gaze.

Let him stare. It wasn’t as if he was interested in her. With her mousy hair and shapeless blue top and white, wide-legged cropped pants that made her curvy, hourglass figure look at least ten pounds heavier, she hardly turned men’s heads.

When she’d decided to become Faith Lewis, she’d ditched the colored contact lenses and fake glasses she’d used as a disguise for the past three years, but had kept the drab hair color and baggy clothes. It wasn’t much but it made her feel safe. Even if she would rather shave off her eyebrows than wear another pair of mom jeans.

Sometimes you just had to suck it up and do whatever it took.

Because nothing, and no one, was going to destroy the life she and Austin were building in Kingsville.

NICK COULDN’T QUITE figure Faith out. She was pretty enough with her light green eyes and shoulder-length chestnut hair, but she sure was a jumpy thing. He’d gone out of his way to be friendly, not only because she worked for his sister but because she and her young son were new in town. But each time they ran into each other, she was as uneasy as the first time they’d met.

“I’d better go,” she said, edging past him. No surprise there. She usually left a room as soon as he walked in.

Faith’s escape was ruined, however, when she tripped on his toolbox.

He grabbed her to keep her from falling. Her body went rigid and she pulled away from him. “You all right?” he asked.

“Fine. I should’ve watched where I was going.”

But when she took a step, he saw her wince. He crouched in front of her. “Did you twist your ankle?”

He raised his eyebrows as he noticed her shoes for the first time. High-heel wedged sandals with crisscross straps—the better to show the bright pink polish on her toes. They were girlie, sexy and totally inappropriate for someone who stood on her feet all day.

Nick touched her ankle to check for swelling. She inhaled sharply and sidestepped him. “I just stubbed my toe. Which wouldn’t have happened,” she said pointedly and, if he wasn’t mistaken, irritably, “if you hadn’t left your toolbox in the middle of the floor.”

“You’re right.” He shoved it against the washing machine. “I ran out to my truck and wasn’t thinking.”

“You should be more careful.” She helped herself to more coffee. “If I can’t work, I can’t support my son—or help your sister build her business.”

He straightened and shoved a hand through his hair. “Is that something they teach you at Mom School?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That.” He gestured toward her. “The whole guilt thing.”

She nodded slowly. “It’s an advanced course for those who have passed Nagging 101 and the Art of Saying ‘Because I Said So.’”

He fought a smile. He’d had no idea she could be such a smart-ass. “I’ve always suspected there was some sort of secret mom society.”

“I’m sorry, but if I admit any more, they’ll take away my membership.”

And then she did something she’d never done before. At least not in front of him. She smiled. But it quickly faded.

“I have to go,” she said, before walking away.

Faith Lewis sure was a puzzle. He tapped his fingers on top of the dryer. It seemed like ego, but most women were not in a hurry to get away from him. Damned if he couldn’t resist a puzzle.