Sweetest Desires (A Sweetest Day Romance)

by Beverly Taylor

  Officer Freeman nodded. “I know. But I wanted to see you—” he shied his face away—“er, uh, rather see how you were doing. Besides, I wouldn’t bother a woman of your position with anything less than a person-to-person.”

  She blinked, wondering why Freeman was flirting with her. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been impeccably polite. During that visit, she’d given him an update on Carson’s return and asked him to be discreet about it in his report. She’d included, off the record, the complications she was facing in her unbalanced marriage. He’d seemed so easy to talk to that she spilled her heart out to him.

  “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

  “It’s okay.” A brief silence followed her response.

  “Uh, I’ve been promoted to detective, and I’m trying to close out my cases before leaving the precinct.”

  Katharine offered a generous smile. “Detective?” Well, congratulations. I’m sure the department is going to miss you.”

  “Some, I guess.”

  “Oh, come now,” she toyed. “I’ll bet you were everyone’s favorite.”

  He blushed a little, lightly scratching the back of his neck. “You’d be surprised.”

  “Are you trying to be modest,” her solid white teeth sparkled. She had the chairside bleaching done prior to the banquet. She could’ve used the white strips, but time wasn’t on her side and she didn’t want to chance making a less than perfect appearance at the dinner party.

  His grin began to fade and his expression turned to mush as he stared at her face.

  Katharine cleared her throat, snapping him from his gaze. “Come with me,” she said, escorting him to the cozy and intimate family room instead of the formal living room where they’d talked before.

  As soon as he was inside, he glanced around the room, his hazel eyes coming to rest on her face and then scanning the rest of her body. The handsome Officer Freeman, now Detective Freeman, looked definitely on the make, but like any gentleman, he remained standing until she offered him a seat.

  “You look different,” he said.

  “Yeah. I had a full body makeover.”

  “Why do that? You were beautiful the way you were—uh, that’s not to say you’re not beautiful now, because you are. Uh, I mean . . .”

  Katharine smiled appreciatively. Clearly, he was speaking from his heart, and he needed to be rescued. “I know what you’re trying to say. Thank you.”

  “So, how are things between you and Mr. O’Connor?”

  “Things are going okay.” Her voice began to quaver and for that she hated herself. Whatever the outcome, she’d vowed not to cry in front of him. “Carson seems to be coming around. He just—it’s just that he . . . . Oh!” To her mortification, tears filled her eyes. She stood and turned her back to him, cramming her index finger beneath her nose.

  Ten seconds ticked by. Twenty. Thirty.

  “I’m no good at this,” she said mournfully, blotting her eyes with the tips of her fingers. She reached for the tissue box. “I can’t play games like other women.” She turned to face him, knowing she looked her worst. She didn’t cry prettily like the actresses in Vincent’s movies. When she cried, the whites of her eyes turned pink, her nose puffed, and her butterscotch complexion got blotchy.

  “I’m sorry. I know this must be terribly embarrassing for you. Feel free to go. You don’t have to stay. I’m fine. Honest.”

  But he didn’t move. “Truth is, Mrs. O’Connor,” he said, looking almost as miserable as she felt, “I’m the one who’s sorry I put you through a scene like this.”

  Reasoning that since she’d already made a fool of herself and had nothing more to lose, she might as well relax with him. “Please, call me Katharine.”

  Since the banquet, things hadn’t moved along as quickly as she’d hoped they would. Carson hadn’t made any promises to return to his family, neither had he made any romantic moves toward her like he did at the banquet. All the perfect things he did and said, she figured were done in the heat of passion.

  “So what church do you attend, Katharine?”

  “Huh?” Katharine responded, surprised. She and Freeman had never talked about church, God, or any aspect of religion.

  He smiled. “You do go to church, don’t you?”

  She blinked herself into a matching smile. Talking about Jesus was her comfort zone.

  “As a matter of fact, I do, but it’s been quite a few Sundays since I’ve attended. Communion with God and His children is my refuge. But since my separation—” Her voice broke and her eyes dropped to the carpeted floor.

  “Well, if you’re not doing anything Sunday, I’d like to invite you to attend church with me.”

  Katharine was flattered. “Do you attend church regularly?”

  “Not as regularly as I’d like, of course. Being a detective, I’m on call at all times of the day and night, which often keeps me from attending. And that’s not good because in my line of work, I truly need to have the Lord on my side.”

  She gazed at him, hardly aware of what she was doing. “I know this doesn’t have anything to do with what we’re talking about, but I remember the last time we talked you told me you were single. Are you still soloing? Or is marriage in your near future?”

  Freeman chuckled self-consciously as if his thoughts had been running in a similar direction. “We were talking about church and church has something to do with marriage—doesn’t it?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “It’s not that I don’t want to be married. I just haven’t found the right woman.”

  “Well, don’t stop looking because she’s out there waiting for you. And when you eventually find her, she’s going to be one blessed sister.”

  He smiled. “Well?” he asked.

  “Well, what?”

  “Would you like to attend service with me on Sunday?”

  Katharine hesitated. She felt his attraction to her and didn’t want to add fuel to the fire, but the idea of hearing the Word without facing the curious stares of her own congregation appealed to her. “Uh, that would be great, just great,” she said. “In fact, I’d be delighted. Thank you for the invitation.”

  * * *

  Following Freeman into the largest church she’d ever seen in her life, Katharine gazed around the mini-looking Vatican at the elegant stained-glass windows and richly decorated altar. The service was perfectly orchestrated, every hymn and prayer exactly on time as printed in the church bulletin. The pastor in his flowing vestments entered the pulpit preceded by the choir. His sermon was eloquent, the music magnificent.

  Yet, Katharine felt no inspiration from the sermon, which seemed to be just pretty words, well spoken. The whole service, though splendid, seemed to be a performance.

  Katharine gave herself a mental shake. She shouldn’t be so judgmental.

  Right after the benediction, the crowd began to disperse, making room for the next service.

  * * *

  Two rows behind them, Cindy remained seated, watching as Katharine and the attractive man beside her rose from their pew and treaded down the aisle to the door to shake the pastor’s hand and exchange a few words. She wasn’t too sure how friendly the relationship was, but she intended to find out.

  Traffic was light, and the ride back to Carson’s apartment in the Sunday afternoon drizzle took only twenty minutes, but Cindy had already made her plans.

  Before she got out of the car, she reviewed the photos that she’d snapped with her cell phone’s digital camera during and after the service, especially the one of the mystery man with his arm resting on the back of the pew inches from Katharine’s shoulders. They looked so—cozy.

  Fortunately, when they stood to embrace after the benediction when the assistant pastor encouraged the congregation to greet one another, she’d gotten some pretty good clicks. But the best photos of all were the ones where he’d held her hand to help her down the concrete stairs. The mystery man must have whispered something funny in Katharine’s ear at that point b
ecause she was all smiles.

  In one of her most vain prayers, Cindy thanked God for her large LCD screen video/camera phone with zoom-in features.

  What luck! Things would surely start to look up now for her and Carson. They’ll finally be together as a couple.

  Life was grand.

  Chapter 24

  As Freeman knelt and removed her high heels, Katharine let out her breath in a long sigh. The contradictions in him kept her off balance and intensely aware of him. One moment, he was talking about a criminal who’d robbed several banks. The next, he was removing her shoes as though he knew how much her feet ached.

  Because she was starved for her husband’s touch, she instinctively raised her arm and folded it around Freeman’s shoulder. Her soft, slender fingers formed a pattern up and down the back of his neck.

  Freeman looked up into her eyes with a dreamy expression and hoisted himself from the floor. He whispered her name and traced her face with the back of his knuckles. Then he kissed her neck softly, his arms pulled her closer, tightly wrapped around her small waist. His lips parted over hers deeper and deeper, and she felt caught up in the warmth.

  Opening her eyes, she gasped in surprise and disengaged their embrace. Her heart was knocking and she felt hot all over. Not knowing what to do, she decided to pretend the kiss hadn’t happened. Raising a fuss would only make it seem important. She’d be forced to admit it, to talk it over with him, and that she didn't want to do.

  “No,” she whispered, softly touching his wrists. “I think you should go now.” She tried to edge away from him, but he wouldn’t be stopped.

  “Please, Katharine,” he coaxed, kissing her lightly along her neck.

  “No. It’s not right—and we just came from church.” She lowered her head in shame. “I’m sorry. It’s best you leave.” She gripped his upper arms and pushed him away, swallowing hard. “We can’t.”

  He pulled away, the disappointment obvious in his eyes, but he sounded calm. “Okay. If that’s what you really want.” His voice was unnaturally low and throaty. He grabbed his coat as he moved toward the door and was gone before she could say anything more.

  Her cheeks grew warm with what felt like uncontrollable lust. It had been shocking, yes, but thrilling.

  That evening, as Katharine got ready for bed, she could still feel the warmth of Freeman’s body. A new warmth flooded her face as she realized how close she’d come to breaking her wedding vows. So many times, she had criticized others for giving in to temptation, and here she had almost done the same thing. She felt she was just as guilty of sin as Carson had been, but instead of turning to God, she cried tears of shame into her pillow.

  One thing was certain: She had to cut all ties with Freeman before things got out of hand. Nothing was worth risking or jeopardizing her marriage, and having sex outside of it was out of the question.

  It’s a good thing the children were with Carson and she was so glad she’d never mentioned Freeman’s name to Natalie. She’d only identified him as the black cop and Nascarelli as the white cop.

  * * *

  Every woman he saw, or at least, every attractive woman, reminded him of Katharine. How could he have been so forward with her, knowing she belonged to someone else? Worse still, what if she decided never to speak to him again?

  He tried to pray, but the words wouldn’t come. Finally, he took a deep breath, smoothed his hair and suit, gathered the papers he needed, and got out of his car. A few minutes later, he was sitting in his office, pretending nothing had happened, while inside him, everything was crumbling to pieces.

  Freeman didn’t pray regularly, but he sought to live his life as honestly as he knew how. His intentions to help Katharine had been pure. Somewhere along the line, his heart had become involved.

  As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get that kiss out of his head. How could something that felt so right be so wrong? Because she’s a married woman—that’s why it’s wrong, his good conscious answered.

  It can’t be all that wrong, she’s separated from her husband and no doubt on the brink of a divorce, he thought as an alternative. You’d better reel her in before someone else does. He let the thought slide through his intellect without considering the source.

  He couldn’t see her again. If she changed her mind and made the first move, he couldn’t be accused of causing havoc in her marriage. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait too long.

  Honest, sophisticated, caring, faithful, compassionate, God-fearing, a great mother—an elect lady, he thought of Katharine. “What are the chances of me finding someone like her?” he mumbled under his breath.

  Chapter 25

  Randy had just gotten to sleep when the phone rang, and it took him a few seconds to switch from heavy slumber to full private-detective mode. He rolled over, fumbled for the phone, dragged the receiver across tangled sheets and propped it between his ear and his shoulder. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, “Devlin.”

  “Wake up, Magnum PI. I need to talk to you.”

  He glanced at the clock, blinking at the brightness of the LCD display. It was nearly midnight. “Cindy?” he said, still not fully awake. “What is it?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Do you think you could come to Club Revel?”

  There was an edge to her voice, one he hadn’t heard before in the few weeks since he’d become reacquainted with her. He rolled to his feet wearing only his briefs and fumbled in the darkness for his clothes. Pulling a T-shirt over his head, he asked, “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah . . . tell me about it.” Randy curled the corner of his right lip lustfully.

  Cindy ignored the comment. “I need you to hurry,” she said.

  “You sound anxious. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I won’t be unless you hurry up.”

  “Give me twenty minutes,” he said and replaced the phone in its cradle.

  He stumbled to the sink for a quick wash and finished dressing. He slipped his watch onto his wrist, gauging the cross-town traffic at this hour on a weeknight.

  He was there in fifteen minutes. He parked his car out front, ignoring the contemptuous frown from the valet, and left it there.

  Randy discovered Cindy sitting at the bar with a distinguished looking gent sitting beside her. Randy could tell the man was talking a lot of trash just from his facial expressions. It was ladies’ night so the club was crowded and the music loud.

  “Hey,” he said, standing behind her.

  Cindy jumped from her chair and hugged his neck. “Darling, what took you so long?”

  Randy wished her words were true, but he knew what the scene was all about.

  “Hey, babe,” he said, fighting back the temptation to taste her cherry-colored lips and kissing her cheek instead. “Sorry, I’m late. I got caught up in some work.”

  The man looked at them sourly and stormed away.

  “Whew,” Cindy sighed, returning to her seat. “And not a moment too soon.” Randy took the now empty seat next to her.

  “I’m sure you’re used to it.” He ordered his usual from the bartender and glanced at Cindy’s empty glass. “What’re you having?”

  “A latte.”

  “Yeah? What’s in it?”

  “What’s usually in a latte?”

  “I thought you might’ve sneaked in a drip or two of rum or brandy, seeing you have something on your mind.”

  “Think again. I told you before, I don’t drink beer or liquor, just wine. Besides, I don’t regard wine as an alcoholic beverage.” She turned to him. “If wine was good enough for Jesus, it’s good enough for me,” she winked.

  Randy wanted to tell her that the wine Jesus drunk was fresh and new—not old and fermented, but he didn’t care to argue with her logic.

  “I got hauled out of bed.” He raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain that one?”

  She opened the gummed flap of a nine-by-twelve-inch manila envelope and pulled out
three photographs of Freeman only, printed on gloss paper, along with what looked like an address on a sheet of multi-purpose copy paper.

  “I need for you to find out who this guy is. I need to know his name, his occupation, and where he lives. And any other information you come across.”

  Randy glanced at the pictures and turned back to Cindy, listening with due caution.

  “This is an address where you might find him.” She handed over the typewritten paper. “A woman named Katharine lives there. You’ll probably catch him at the house after nine o’clock at night or on weekends.”

  He received the paper, stroking her hand in the process. “And what do I get out of the deal?” His naughty grin heightened.

  “You’ll get a chance to rekindle, or shall I say, kindle a friendship with an old schoolmate.”

  “Is that an ‘ignite’ type of kindle?” He eyed her body hungrily.

  Without answering, Cindy rubbed her throat tenderly, cleared it a couple of times, and blew her nose into a napkin.

  “Are you okay?”

  She curled her fingers into a fist and coughed into it. “Must be a twenty-four-hour virus or something,” she said.

  She picked up another napkin and dabbed at her mouth. “I’m going to bed . . . alone,” she said, pushing back her barstool and fumbling in her purse.

  “You think I wanna catch what you’ve got?” Randy said.

  Cindy sniffled and touched the napkin to her nose. “You’ll call me if—” She pulled out a crumpled fifty-dollar bill, shoved her long weave over her shoulder with her free hand, and corrected herself. “I mean when—”

  “I’ll call you. And put your money away. I’ll take care of this.”

  “Fair enough.” She tucked the fifty back into her purse. “Classmates or not, I still owe you. This is business. After all, you’ve got to eat and pay bills too.” She rewarded him with her million-dollar smile.

  “What a minute,” he detained her. “What’re you doing here in the first place?”