Marilyn Pappano - One Stormy Night

Restless and needing to do something that felt productive, he called in the tag on her car to the dispatcher, Megan, who ran it and notified him, predictably, that it came back to a rental company. He asked her to call the company and find out who had rented it. She said something to someone there in the office before replying affirmatively, and he recognized her voice from last night’s call to Taylor.

So Megan was sleeping with the chief. Great for job security…until she did something to tick him off or he found someone he wanted more. Like his wife?

It took a few minutes for Megan to call back with the info, and she did so on his cell phone. “The car was rented by Jessica Randall, who lives in Los Angeles. You think she’s related to Taylor’s wife?”

You think?

“I know she’s back. What do you think she wants? Where has she been? What has she been doing?” Dispatcher and department gossip—Megan’s unofficial title.

“You’ll have to ask Taylor. Thanks for the info.” Mitch hung up as a vision of blond hair, golden skin and frilly clothing came out of the grocery store, only one small bag in hand, and started his way. He rolled down the window as she neared. “Why is your car rented in your sister’s name? Why didn’t you do it?”

Dark glasses covered her eyes, hiding their expression. He wore dark shades, too, but she wouldn’t be able to read any more if she were looking straight into his eyes.

“What do you need to rent a car, Officer?”

“Driver’s license and credit card.”

“And what did you find inside my washed-away car besides two suitcases, some jewelry, cosmetics and a few mementos?”

Her purse, with her driver’s license and credit cards.

“Jess rented it for me before she left. She knows I’m good for it. And speaking of good…” She held up the shopping bag a moment before depositing it in his lap. “I realized this is going to take me a while, so I thought you might need to cool off.”

One part of his anatomy was quickly turning ice-cold until he lifted the bag and looked inside. It held a bottle of chilled water and an ice cream sandwich.

For the first time in a long time, he was taken by surprise. Under the circumstances, she was the last person he would have expected a thoughtful gesture from. “I—thank you.”

She flashed a smile. “I’ll be out soon as I can.” She strolled back into the store, long legs taking long steps, hips swaying. When had he ever seen Jennifer Burton stroll? When had he ever watched her do anything?

God, he needed a break. A date. A woman.

Any woman who could make him forget all about his boss’s wife.

Jessica loaded more groceries and cleaning supplies than she could possibly use into the trunk of the rental, climbed behind the wheel and glanced at Mitch before backing out. He’d finally shut off the engine and rolled down the windows and he looked hot. Sweat dotted his forehead and likely dampened his shirt as well as his hair. Damp was a good look on him. Wet would probably make her steam.

The cell phone beeped and she punched the speaker button. “It’s about time you called.”

“How’s it going?” Jen asked, her voice ethereal and disembodied through the small speaker.

“I met Taylor this morning and he’s a jerk. What a loser.”

“Oh, I thought he was amazing when we met. He was so handsome and charming and adorable.” She sighed. “Of course, I didn’t know then what I know now.”

“I also met your next-door neighbor.”

“Mrs. Foster? She’s kind of a pain—oh, you mean Mitch Lassiter.”

Who was also kind of a pain, Jessica thought with another glance in the rearview mirror.

“You know you can’t trust him.”

“As if I need you to tell me that.” Bad cop or not, Taylor’s friend or not, Mitch Lassiter was the sort of man any smart woman watched out for. Handsome enough to make Taylor look like a toad, sexy enough, too, but lacking in charm, and adorable simply wasn’t in the vocabulary that applied to him. He was dark. Hard. Dangerous.

And, according to Jen, if not already on Taylor’s payroll in more ways than one, soon to be. No matter how handsome and sexy, a corrupt cop…she just couldn’t stomach that.

“Do you have a plan?”

Jessica laughed. “Yeah. Getting the groceries out of this heat and into the kitchen while Officer Mitch sears to a crisp in the parking lot.”

“Taylor has him watching you.”

“Bingo.” Jessica turned into the Sand Dollar, slowed to about five miles per hour and drove to the rear of the building.

“You can’t search for anything with him watching you.”

“I can start inside the apartment, though I’m pretty sure he and Taylor have already checked it out.” He’d refused to confirm or deny it over breakfast, but it stood to reason. Jen had been missing; they were cops. Knowing that Taylor had been inside the apartment Jessica was temporarily calling home, touching things that she was touching, looking at the clothes she was wearing, was creepy. Knowing that Mitch had created an inappropriate sensation all its own.

“Listen, I’m home and Officer Mitch is pulling in beside me. Give me a call later.” She disconnected and climbed out before he’d had a chance to shut off the motor. She opened the apartment door first, the metal hot enough to burn, then carried two handfuls of bags inside to the kitchen counter.

When she turned, he was blocking her way, sunglasses off and the rest of the bags in his strong grip. She swallowed hard, her chest tight, backing up until the refrigerator stopped her and giving him access to the countertop.

She’d been right about the sweat dampening his hair and his shirt—right that hot and sweaty was a good look for him. Of course, the way he’d gotten hot and sweaty could make it an even better look, she thought, then chided herself. He was the enemy, remember? It was a given that everyone who worked for Taylor was on his side. Trust no one , Jen had intoned, and she hadn’t laughed when Jessica had. She’d been deadly serious.

If Jessica didn’t keep her guard up, she could end up seriously dead.

He set down the bags, then retreated to the dining table, and suddenly she could breathe again. “Th-thank you.” For carrying in the bags? Or for giving her space? She didn’t know. Didn’t care.

He shrugged as if both his actions and her words meant nothing.

“Tell your boss I’m planning to spend the rest of the day at home, so you’ll be free to do your real job.”

Something flashed through his eyes—annoyance, perhaps. With her for being smug? Or with Taylor for assigning him to such a mundane task? “I don’t think he’s likely to take your word for it.”

“Well, if he makes you stay, at least you can stay inside. You won’t die of heat exhaustion. I keep it cool.”

Where had that come from? The last thing she needed was a cop hanging around while she looked for evidence that would incriminate his boss and quite likely him—and the last thing she wanted was more time in his company.

He gave her a narrow look, assessing, as if he might discover her ulterior motive for the invitation if he looked hard enough. Abruptly, though, he turned away. “The heat’s not going to kill me.”

It felt as if the statement was unfinished— but something else might —but that was all he said. With a muttered, “Later,” he left the apartment, and this time he closed the door behind him. A moment later, she heard the distant thud of her trunk closing. She walked to the window and peeked through the crack in the drapes and saw him leaning against a tree barely tall enough to support his weight in the tiny lawn next to her car, his cell phone to his ear, no doubt calling Taylor.