by Ana Leigh
"Not at all, it's a beautiful night for a stroll. So why are we running a marathon?"
"Oh, sorry," he said, slowing his steps. "Your boyfriend's sure the understanding type."
She feathered a smile. "He's very secure, because he knows how I feel about him."
"He called you Jess. I like that. Heard you broke your engagement to Wolcott. You went with that guy a long time, didn't you?"
"Yes, seven years."
"Sure didn't take you long to find a replacement."
"Is that what you wanted to discuss, McGuire?" she asked with a rise of anger. "As much as I value your opinion, it's a poor substitute for a gourmet meal. This could have waited until morning."
"Just wanted you to know that you got your wish."
"My wish? I don't recall wishing for anything, except maybe your transfer to Anchorage."
"Very funny. Figured you'd be interested to hear that we pulled your friend Gilbert out of the river a short time ago. Very wet – and very dead. Congratulations, Judge, justice has been served."
Shocked, she stopped abruptly. Then had to hurry to catch up with him.
* * *
Chapter 3
«^»
By the time Jessica got over the initial shock of Gilbert's murder, they'd reached the restaurant. But it wasn't a restaurant. From the outside, the place looked like a sleazy, rundown, enter-at-your-own-risk dive. Big bold, black letters painted on the window identified it as The Precinct, and a smaller line below read Bar and Grill.
A cloud of gray cigarette smoke greeted them at the door along with Patsy Cline wailing "Crazy."
I must be, too, to allow myself to get maneuvered into this!
The moment she entered, Jessica recognized a dozen or more faces in a glance – she'd seen them in court time enough. Good Lord, he had brought her to a cop bar!
Doug would have to have been blind not to notice that Jessica drew the curious glances of most of the men in the room.
"Hey, Your Honor, you slumming?" one of the men standing at the bar asked good-naturedly.
"Well, Detective Slocum, what a pleasure to see you outside of court. You look much taller now that I'm not peering down at you from behind my bench."
"And if I might say, you look mighty good out from under that black robe."
"Say it! Say it!" she teased. "It's music to my ears, Detective."
"How ya doin', Judge?" another asked.
"Just fine, Tony," she said, slapping him on the shoulder in passing.
When she spied a heavyset man at the end of the bar, McGuire followed her over to him.
"Detective Bronowski! How are you? I miss seeing you in court."
"Heck, Judge, call me Ski. We ain't in court now."
"What have you been doing since you retired?" she asked.
"Jerry and I bought this place," Ski said.
"So you and Jerry are still partners. Good for you."
Bronowski nodded to Doug, then said, "If McGuire gives you any heat, just let me know. Jerry and I can handle him for you."
That's a laugh! If anyone needed help, it was him, Doug thought. She was the one giving off the heat. He got hot every time he looked at her – and it sure wasn't from anything she said. He took her arm and steered her over to a corner table that offered a modicum of privacy.
"So this is where the long arm of the law comes to unwind," she said, once they were seated.
"One of them. There's a couple more in the city – Fuzzy's and Coach's on the south side. A couple sports bars on the north side. Mostly the guys like to hang out in the sports bars."
One of the men playing Sheepshead at a nearby table yelled, "Hey, McGuire, when are you and the judge gonna put on gloves and sell tickets?"
"We've been considering it as a fund-raiser toward promoting your early retirement, Novack."
"I hear they pulled Gilbert out of the river tonight." Doug nodded, wishing the loudmouth would shut up and concentrate on his card game instead of them. Novack looked at Jessica. "Too bad, Your Honor. That walk you gave Gilbert got him a short swim instead. You the one that whacked him, McGuire?"
"Yeah, right."
"Novack, you gonna deal or shoot bull all night?" one of the men in the game asked. To Doug's relief, Novack shut up.
"Don't think you'll find too many Gilbert mourners in this crowd," he said.
"Well, I'll be honest with you … I'm not sorry he's dead. As a judge, I abhor violence, but the citizen in me is glad to know there's one less murderer out there tonight."
"I tried to get that scumball behind bars where he belonged." When she glanced around, he asked, "Who are you looking for?"
"Your friend Sherilyn and her Mr. Microphone."
Doug chuckled. "Yeah, she's a real piece of work, and the lady sure has got it in for you."
"I think she's one of those insecure women who look upon every other woman as her natural enemy." She made an appealing sound that might have been a giggle. "I suppose it didn't help when I beat out her boyfriend in the election."
Doug's approving gaze lingered on her face as he wondered how she'd look with that auburn hair tumbling around her shoulders. "She's not even in your class, Judge Jess."
The waitress approached with pad in hand. "How're you doin', Doug?"
"Real good, Kate. How's Danny?"
She drew a deep sigh. "About the same. He has some good days and some bad ones. He told me he saw you on television today arguing with some dumb female judge who let your collar go."
Doug threw Jessica a quick glance, but she showed no reaction. "Be sure and give Danny my best."
Kate nodded. "So what'll it be tonight?"
"A couple of beers, burgers with the works and some fries."
"You got it, honey." Kate came back instantly, put down a pitcher of beer and two glasses, and then took off again.
"Sorry about Kate's remark," he said, filling her glass.
"Think nothing of it. I'm getting used to those kind of comments."
"You can't blame people for resenting how these criminals get off, can you? But don't be misled by Kate's remark. She's one of the great women of the world. Do you remember reading a few years back about this hopped up junkie who shot his girlfriend, set the house on fire, and before shooting himself put a bullet into the young police officer who came into the burning building to rescue an infant in a crib?"
"Oh, yes. That was so tragic. If I remember, they all died."
"Not quite. The baby died … the woman died … the perp died, but the police officer wasn't that lucky. He sustained first-degree burns over his face and hands, and the bullet severed his spinal cord. The doctors say with continued therapy he might be able to sit up in a wheelchair in another year. In the meantime, they've been working on plastic surgery to cover up the burns on his face. He was pretty maimed. That young police officer is Danny Harrigan – Kate's twenty-one-year-old son. Her husband, Jimmy, had been shot and killed five years before that incident, when he stopped a car on a routine traffic violation."
"That's terrible! I'm so sorry, Doug."
"Yeah, we're all sorry. And poor Kate. Bad enough she lost a husband – and son – but she has to work her butt off to pay for the medical bills that the insurance doesn't cover. Any woman dumb enough to fall in love with a cop ought to go to a shrink first before marrying one."
"It sounds to me like you really mean anyone who chooses to become a police officer ought to pay a visit to that shrink. Why did you go into law enforcement, Doug?" she asked.
"I can tell you it wasn't for truth, justice and the American Way
. I like solving puzzles. Every crime leaves some kind of clues. The challenge is to recognize them. They're like pieces of a picture puzzle. You keep moving them around until they all fit, and the whole picture is laid out before you."
"I would have thought the FBI would hold more of an appeal to you."
"They did try to recruit me when I finished college, but I come from a long line of cops, so I
opted to join the Milwaukee Police Department. I put in the required five years in uniform – which had seemed like fifty at the time – counting the days until I could take the promotional exam for detective."
"Is your father on the force?"
"Not here. He's the police chief of a small town in Northern Illinois. What about you, Your Honor?"
"Jessica or Jess. We're not in court now."
"Okay, Jess. How come a beautiful young woman with brains and beauty to boot chose to become a felony judge?"
"I know you won't believe me, but I became a judge in order to see justice done."
"Yeah, but whose side are you on?"
"Doug, I don't take pleasure out of seeing criminals get off scot-free, but until the arresting officers play by the letter of the law, it will continue to happen. Not only in my court, but also in courts all around the country. There are too many defense lawyers out there today who know every loophole in the book. Why blame the judges for upholding the same laws you've sworn to protect?"
Fortunately, Kate arrived with their food, thus preventing what might have become another argument.
Jessica looked at the hamburger heaped with onions, pickles, cheese, mushrooms and catsup dripping down the sides. "I should have brought my calculator."
"Dinner's on me," he said.
"You're darn right it is, McGuire. You pulled me away from a perfectly good meal. I just need a calculator to add up all the fat grams we're about to eat. Looks like cholesterol heaven."
Doug took a chomp of the sandwich and wondered why a woman with a body like hers would worry about a few extra calories. He wasn't supposed to think about the body beneath that proper suit, but sitting across a table from her sharing a meal – instead of a murder case – made him more aware of the woman instead of the judge.
When they finished eating, they paired off in a shuffleboard game against an engaged couple on the force. Then they sat down and finished off the pitcher of beer – and discovered that they both liked old movies, old torch songs, Ella Fitzgerald singing jazz and Sinatra singing anything.
He also discovered she had a sense of humor, was easy to talk to and fun to be with. So what was missing? Why hadn't some lucky guy nailed her with a marriage license? There'd had to be a better reason other than she couldn't cook. The puzzle solver in him wondered about the missing piece. "You ever been married, Jess?"
She shook her head. "Dennis Wolcott and I were engaged, but we never got around to setting a date. As it turned out, it was just as well we didn't – we weren't in love. At least what I consider being in love. I'd never settle for anything less than what my parents had together. What about you? Have you ever been in love, Doug?"
"A babe in Sheboygan got a gold watch out of me once. The next day she returned it to the jeweler for diamond earrings. I figured we weren't on the same wavelength, so I lost her phone number."
"Just because the babe exchanged the gift you gave her."
"I figure if someone you love gives you a gift, it ought to mean more to you than a damn pair of earrings!" She was tapping into feelings he couldn't explain. Feelings he didn't want to deal with – much less talk about.
She must have sensed that, because she grinned at him. "Maybe she just couldn't tell time." Glancing at her watch, she said, "But I can, and it's getting pretty late."
It was midnight by the time they returned to the parking lot of the Water Street Bistro to get their cars.
Jessica began to pull the pins out of her hair. "You'll have to excuse me but I have to let my hair down. These pins are beginning to drive me crazy." She raised her hands like claws. "I have a driving urgency to get my hands into it!"
They had another thing in common.
His stomach flopped over when she shook her hair out and the length dropped past her shoulders. "You ought to wear it like that more often," he said, spellbound.
"I'm afraid that would make me look more woman than judge."
"Is that so bad?" He couldn't take his eyes off her face.
"I'm afraid you're prejudiced, Detective McGuire."
Detective McGuire. A few minutes ago, he'd been Doug and she'd been Jess. Come midnight, the ball had ended and Cinderella turned back into a felony judge of the Milwaukee County Circuit Court.
Except for that hair – that gorgeous long hair hanging past her shoulders.
After unlocking her car, she turned back with a smile. "Thank you, Detective Doug. I must admit I had a good time." She stepped closer and kissed him on the cheek.
"Yeah, right," he said, with a twisted smile. There was no way he was going to settle for a peck on the cheek like the old codger. She must have guessed his intent, and she stepped back abruptly, but not in time to avoid his arm that snagged her waist and pulled her against him. He swallowed her gasp as their mouths found a fit. Her lips were soft but tasted delicious – and he began to gorge on them, and on the smell of her … the feel of her in his arms. For the briefest of seconds she stiffened to resist, then she settled into the kiss, and slipped her arms around his neck. Her auburn hair drew his hand like a magnet, and he dug his fingers into the thickness. It felt like sliding between silk sheets.
They both gave as much as they took – jockeying for dominance – challenging, dueling and savoring, until they broke apart breathless. She looked him straight in the eye, her chest heaving, and her eyes twin pools of seduction beckoning him to jump in. His loins were on fire, and he was so hard he couldn't move. Even his hands itched so badly to touch her that he had to clench them into fists. He wanted a lot more than a kiss, and wondered what she'd say if he suggested going home with her. Then he thought the better of it – she wasn't the kind that hopped into the sack with a guy after one kiss. And one kiss was all he dared – another one, and he'd be pulling her into the back seat of the car. The sooner he put cold metal between them, the better. So he opened her car door and stepped aside for her to enter.
Her fingers trembled when she inserted the key into the ignition. He hoped the Park Avenue wouldn't start – a sign that they'd stay together and let nature take its course – but the damn engine turned over and purred.
She smiled up at him and for several seconds his gaze held hers as curiosity darkened her brown eyes.
Say it, McGuire! Even if you choke on it, get it out now before you have any more time to think about it. "Good night, Judge Jess." He slammed the car door.
As she drove away, he stood and watched until the taillights disappeared around the corner. Then he headed back to the precinct.
* * *
His lips were hard, urgent, against hers. How could he make her insane for more with just the touch of his mouth? Then he touched her with those big, hard hands, and her body came alive as it had never been alive before. She wanted to touch him, too, but for some reason she couldn't reach him. She moaned his name and opened her eyes.
"Doug?"
The word echoed in an empty room. Moonlight silvered the Belgian lace curtains that shrouded her windows. Jessica lay alone in her bed, sheets tangled about her legs, hot despite the coolness of the night. She rolled onto her side and looked at the clock – 3:30. Gee, a whole hour later than she'd awoken after the last erotic dream of—
"McGuire," she muttered.
Why on earth had she let the man kiss her? Now she couldn't stop thinking about their first embrace.
If they hadn't been in full view of everyone on the street, she'd probably have yanked his clothes off right there. Heck, why not be honest? She hadn't been thinking about the public eye, or anything else while he kissed her. Her dreams proved that. All she'd wanted then – all she wanted now – was all of Doug McGuire.
Liz's words of that afternoon came back to her. Was her dissatisfaction with her life a result of too much work and too little sex? Would a torrid affair with the delectable detective make everything better? She would certainly sleep better tonight if she wasn't sleeping alone.
By the time the sun peeked over Lake Michigan, Jessica had
given up trying to sleep. She took her coffee onto her terrace and had a stern little talk with herself.
You're an adult. He's an adult – or so he professes – though you wouldn't know it from his behavior. Her words sounded peevish, even to herself, but she was so tired. Her skin felt twitchy, as if it didn't belong on her body. A scalding hot shower had done nothing to relieve the feeling. Too much coffee, too early in the morning was making her head buzz.
I want him, and from that kiss last night I'd say he wants me. What could be simpler? That sounded better. Definitely more mature. If she could manage to sound like that when talking with McGuire there would be no problem. Of course talking wasn't the problem – wanting to put her hands all over him was the problem.
Jessica dumped the last of her coffee into the sink and glanced at her watch. Just enough time to stop at the police station on her way to the courthouse and have a heart-to-heart with Detective McGuire.
Though her reception at the front desk was far from welcoming, Jessica had little trouble being directed to her quarry. She walked through the station, head held high despite the stares and whispers. She had not gone into the law to be popular – she'd gone into it to make a difference. Although on some days – like yesterday – she thought she was losing the battle, but most days she figured she'd win her part of the war.
The desk sergeant had directed her to the lower level, third door on the right. Taking a deep breath in the hallway, she steeled herself against her usual libidinous reaction to McGuire. She was here to… Jessica dropped her hand from the door. To what? Offer herself on a platter? She gritted her teeth. With McGuire it wouldn't do to seem so eager. He was a competitive man. She was a competitive woman. He wanted her, but she didn't think he liked her very much. So then, why had he kissed her that way? There had been more than desire in that kiss – and she wanted to know why.
Jessica shoved open Door Number Three and nearly swallowed her tongue at the unexpected sight that greeted her.
McGuire, wearing baggy gray sweatpants and nothing else. She'd have thought he had a good butt, she hadn't gotten a look at his chest. She stood in the doorway and watched the man work.
