Radclyffe - Safe Harbor

Reese pointed to a military footlocker pushed under the windows. "Beddings in there, Doctor. Military issue Im afraid. Ive only been a civilian a short time, and shopping has not been high on my list of priorities."

"Itll do for a night. Thanks," Tory said as she headed for the door. "Now lights out, please."

"Yes, maam," Reese sighed, realizing she had been out maneuvered in more ways than one that evening.

**********

At five a.m. in May, sunrise was still a long way off. Reese stood in the dim light reflected from the kitchen, looking down at Tory King. She slept on her side, her arms wrapped around the pillow. Her tousled hair framed a face soft and youthful in sleep. Her clothes were tossed over a nearby chair, her leg brace and cane leaning within arms reach. Reese was captivated by how peaceful she appeared. Before Reese could move away, Tory rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, moving from sleep to full wakefulness almost instantaneously. She saw the curiosity in Reeses face before all expression fled.

"What?" Tory asked. "Is there something strange about the way I sleep?"

Reese contemplated her for a moment, aware that she was naked under the light covering. The curve of hip and the slight swell of breasts were outlined in light and shadow. Reese knew she was staring, and forced her eyes to Torys face.

"You dont just sleep - you seem to embrace it, as if it were nourishing you." Her voice trailed off. She had no words to express how beautiful the woman had been. "I didnt mean to disturb you," she finished awkwardly.

Tory sat up, holding the sheet to her chest with one arm. With the other she brushed her hair back from her face. "I think I felt you in my sleep, but it didnt disturb me." She looked at Reese uncertainly. She knew Reese hadnt touched her, but her skin tingled with the sense of a lingering caress. Abruptly she swung her legs to the floor. This was getting ridiculous. Too much turmoil in the last twenty-four hours had her imagining things.

"I need to be up anyhow," Tory said more sharply than she intended.

"Right. Ill let you get dressed," Reese said, turning away, nonplussed by the abrupt change. "Coffee?" She asked as she retreated quickly to the kitchen.

"Please," Tory called after her. She joined Reese in the kitchen a few moments later, looking around her in surprise. The room, newly renovated, was modern and equipped with professional appliances. "What a great kitchen! You must cook!"

Reese grinned, ducking her head shyly. "A secret vice." She handed Tory a steaming cup of freshly ground French Roast.

"However did that happen? Werent you forced to eat in the mess hall or something?"

Reese laughed, warming Tory with the rich timber of her voice. Tory relaxed, leaning against the large center cook-island that dominated the space. She sipped her coffee as she examined Reese in the bright morning light. She was in uniform again, the creases in her sleeves and trousers razor sharp, her tie knotted square under a crisp collar. The surface of her shoes sparkled with a flawless shine. She seemed flawless, too. Her black hair was trimmed precisely around her ears, and above her collar. The full front fell rather dashingly over clear blue eyes, a straight nose, and full strong chin. She was handsome and beautiful at the same time, and warning bells began clashing in Torys brain. Women this good-looking generally knew it, and that always spelled trouble. The years had not quite erased the pain left behind by someone nearly as heartstopping as this. She forced herself to concentrate on what Reese was saying, reminding herself she would never make that mistake again.

"I lived mostly off base. Learning to cook gave me something to do, since Ive always lived alone."

"Always?" Tory asked. It was hard to believe that a woman with her appeal wasnt attached.

"Yes, always," Reese replied quietly.

Once again Tory sensed a door closing as a distant look settled in Reeses eyes.

"How is your arm?" Tory asked, retreating to neutral ground.

"Stiff, but the sensation has returned."

"Can you handle your weapon?"

Reese looked surprised. "I think so."

Tory shook her head. "You have to be able to or you cant work. Seriously, Sheriff"

Reese held up a hand. "Please, call me Reese. You cant keep calling me Sheriff in my own kitchen."

Tory laughed. "And Im Tory. Now, draw your weapon."

Reese studied her for a second, recognizing the solemn set to her features. She reached behind her with her right hand to set the coffee cup on the counter. In the next instant, she had pivoted away from Tory, her revolver in both hands, crouched in a shooting stance. The tailored uniform stretched taut against coiled muscles, the gun unwavering.

Torys caught her breath, surprised by Reese's speed and grace. "You pass," Tory said lightly, aware that her throat was dry and her pulse racing. She had to admit the combination of physical beauty and controlled power was a compelling image.

Reese straightened, holstering her revolver. She smiled faintly and saluted Tory casually. "Thank you, maam."

Reese wasnt sure why Tory was staring at her so curiously, but she liked the way she laughed. For some reason, the laughter made her happy.

Chapter Four

After returning Tory to the clinic, Reese circled through town to the station house. Nelson was at his desk, frowning over yet another voluminous report he had to complete.

"Jesus, Conlonwhat happened to you?" Nelson asked when he saw the bruise on his deputys face and the fresh stitches on her forehead.

Reese shook her head ruefully, tossing her hat on her desk. "If I told you the truth, youd fire me."

"Try me," he ordered. He was laughing by the time she finished the story. "I told you the doc could look after herself! Just be glad shes only got one good leg, or she really might have hurt you!"

They stared at one another as he grimaced in disgust. "Oh hell, I didnt mean that. Its a damn tragedy, and here I am joking." He shook his head in discomfort.

"What do you mean?" Reese asked quietly.

"I guess its not a secret - as if anyone in this town has secrets. She was a rower. Did you know that?"

"I know she rows," Reese remarked, recalling the photographs in Tory Kings office.

"She did row. She rowed for the Canadian Olympic team. She was their big hope for a gold medal in the 88 Olympics. Another rower hit her scull in a trial heat just before the games. Cut her boat in half and nearly took her leg off with it. She never rowed again."

Reese turned away, her chest tight. "Is this stuff last nights dregs again?" she said gruffly, snatching the coffeepot from the burner.

Nelson gaped at her in surprise. He was never going to understand this woman. She closed up faster than anyone he had ever known, men included. But he respected her moods, so he just grunted as he returned to the endless paperwork on his desk.

Reese focused on making coffee, forcing the painful image of Tory lying injured in a shattered boat from her mind. Unexpectedly, she flashed on the way Tory had looked asleep that morning, remembering the still beauty of her form beneath the light covering. The image was inexplicably calming. Reese took a deep breath, her emotions under control once again, and turned back to the Chief.

"Im going to start my tour."

"Sure. Hey, grab me some donuts, will you?"

Instead of turning right into town, Reese went the opposite direction to Route 6 and Herring Cove. The fishermen and women were out in numbers, casting in the offshore depths for the plentiful sea bass. Reese parked at the waters edge, searching the horizon. Sunlight shimmered on the cold blue-grey morning water, two forces of nature meeting. There, off to the right, cutting swiftly and surely toward Race Point, was the red kayak. The tension in her chest eased as Reese watched Tory fly across the surface, unfettered and free. Calm once again, she wheeled out of the lot to start her day.