Tess took a deep breath and raised her chin. "Well. That was fun."
His brain woke up. Uh-oh.
"Does that mean we can do it again some time?" he teased gently.
Her golden skin turned dull red. "Well, I— Well, uh—"
It appeased his male ego to reduce quick-talking Tess to a blush and a stammer.
"When can I see you?" he asked.
Her gaze dropped. "I'm kind of busy."
Her evasion tripped all kind of alarms. "This weekend?" he asked, and then cursed himself for his schoolboy lack of cool.
"I don't know. The Knights of Columbus are having a fish boil at St. Raphael's on Saturday night—"
He wasn't going to push her. But, damn it, he didn't like whatever she was putting between them. "Got a hot date?"
That yanked her chin back up. "No. I'm covering the event for the paper. Proceeds are going to a local kid's liver transplant fund."
Not another man, then. A story.
"Sounds like a good cause," he said cautiously.
"It is," she said, her confidence returning. "Kevin Lindquist—he's only six. They're trying a living donor transplant this time, using a section of his father's liver. The family has insurance, but it doesn't cover everything."
"Wouldn't you get more people to give money if the story came out before the dinner?"
Tess shook her head. "Anybody who would come to this fund-raiser already heard about it through the grapevine. But the paper goes out to the whole county. Lots of people who won't give up their Saturday nights to drive half an hour for a church dinner. But if I dish up a good story— the brave little boy, the selfless dad, the community rallying behind them—they'll swallow that."
"And make a donation."
Tess grinned. "To the address thoughtfully provided at the end of the article."
"Nice job," Jarek said.
She shrugged to hide her pleasure. "It's what I do."
More than that, he thought. It was who she was, as much a part of her as his shield and gun were part of him. Her sharp compassion, her determination to do good, even that touch of cynicism that helped her identify her target, were better clues to her character than all her defensive words.
"So, you're tied up Saturday," he said. "What about tomorrow?"
She studied her nails. Not good, he thought.
"I've got interviews," she said.
"The kid's family?"
"His doctors."
She was stonewalling. Jarek let it go. For now.
"Okay. Tomorrow's tight for me, anyway."
That reporter's gleam entered her eyes. "The investigation?"
"That, and—" Hell. Maybe now wasn't the best time to remind her he was everything she didn't want. I raised one family already. I'm not interested in taking on another. "Allie's coming in."
"Your daughter?"
He nodded.
"For the weekend?"
She didn't sound upset. Just very, very cautious.
"You should meet her," Jarek ventured. "Since we're seeing each other."
Pleasure flicked across her face, followed by panic. "We are not seeing each other."
He raised an eyebrow. "What would you call it?"
Tess hopped off the counter. Probably she wanted to find her feet, but the action brought her under his chin and close to his body. His body reacted.
"I don't know," she said. "I don't know what to call it. You stop by occasionally and I let you grope me."
What the hell was her problem? He set his jaw. "You enjoyed it."
She glared. "Yes."
"But you want a date," he said, feeling his way.
"I don't know what I want."
That made two of them. And with his body hard and aching and Tess's red, confused face turned up to his, there was only one thing Jarek was sure of.
He wasn't getting what he wanted from Tess anytime soon.
"Man, you really did a number on our chief of police," Mark said as Tess strode down the dock toward his boat on Saturday morning.
She nearly dropped her doughnuts. Her heart did drop, right to the bottom of her high-heeled boots. How did her brother know about her selfish behavior three nights ago? And why was he taking Jarek's side? He was her brother. He was supposed to be on her side.
Men.
She tightened her grip on the white bag from Palermo's bakery and stopped. Water sloshed between the pilings and the side of the boat. "What are you talking about?"
Mark stretched across the narrow gap to take the bag. His free hand grabbed her elbow to help her on board. "Didn't you read the paper?"
Tess leaned heavily into his steadying grip and scrambled onto the rocking boat. "Of course I read the paper. I wrote half of it."
Well, the lead story, anyway. A just-the-facts-ma'am account of the attempted attack on Sherry Biddleman. No names, of course. She thought it had come out well.
"You read the editorial page?" Mark asked.
"No," Tess said. "Why?"
Mark balanced the bakery bag on a coil of rope and turned to the tiny half cabin. "Wait a minute. I probably have a copy around here somewhere."
"I'm flattered."
He raised one eyebrow. "I keep it to wrap fish in," he explained.
"Swell," said Tess.
She needed a doughnut. While Mark rummaged in the pilot's cabin, she dug in the bag. Her body cried out for chocolate crullers. Actually, ever since Jarek Denko had lit her up and played her like a pinball machine, her body was crying out for a lot of things, but it seemed safer to give it chocolate. Jarek could be hazardous to her heart.
Tess had written a Valentine's Day feature last year citing studies that linked chocolate with the brain chemical serotonin and with phenyethylamine, a stimulant that created many of the same bodily reactions as falling in love.
She licked her fingers. Maybe what she really needed was—
Terrified of where her thoughts were taking her, Tess reached for another doughnut.
Mark plucked the bag away and handed her Thursday's paper. "Here. You're going to get fat."
Tess scowled. What on earth had made her imagine that breakfast with her brother would cheer her up?
The sight of her byline on the front page made her feel briefly better. But when she turned to the editorial page, folding the paper to stand against the slight breeze, her mood plummeted again.
Top Cop All Wrong for Eden? the headline queried.
Tess groaned.
Mark lowered his doughnut. "Having second thoughts?"
"I didn't write this," Tess protested.
"Right."
"This is the editor's opinion. Not mine."
Mark swallowed. "Whatever. But I bet I'm not the only person in town who confuses the two."
Tess scanned the rest of the column, the chocolate cruller gurgling in her stomach. The editorial concluded, "Thanks to the responsible reporting of this paper, our latest victim foiled her attacker. But the citizens of Eden can only regret that trouble seems to have accompanied the new police chief into town."
"This is so unfair," Tess said.
Maybe she was ambivalent about getting involved with Jarek Denko, but she didn't doubt that he was a good cop.
A great kisser.
A generous lover.
He'd even left her her cat.
Tess hadn't decided whether leaving the stray at her apartment had been an oversight or strategy on Jarek's part. And now she'd never know, she thought glumly. He wasn't going to want to see her again after this.
"You bet it's unfair." Mark grinned. "He'll want my ass now."
Guilt clutched her. She hadn't even thought of that. "Oh, Mark."
"Hey, relax. He's not going to nail me for something I didn't do."
"No, but he'll hear plenty of stories about all the things you did do."
Mark shrugged. "I never got a girl pregnant—"
"—that you know of."
"—and I never took anything that wasn't offered."
/>
Tess rolled her eyes. "Only you were offered so much."
Mark extended the open bag toward her. "You want another doughnut?"
"Are you trying to shut me up?"
"Absolutely."
"Okay."
They ate in companionable silence as gulls wheeled and cried overhead and the Saturday morning traffic chugged just out of sight along Front Street. Somewhere up the marina, a screen door slammed. Tim Brown at the Blue Moon, maybe, hauling trash to the Dumpster. The strip of park that bordered the water was almost empty. Nearby, a sail luffed in the wind as a weekend sailor headed out. A young girl, eight or nine, perched on one of the sawed-off posts that supported the pier, swinging her feet and throwing pebbles into the water.
Tess frowned. Hadn't the kid been there when Tess arrived? It must have been half an hour ago.
"Mark." She touched his arm to get his attention. "How long has that girl been there?"
He brushed powdered sugar from his sleeve. "A while. An hour?"
She handed him a paper napkin. "Anyone with her?"
"How should I know?" He took the napkin, regarding her with exasperated affection. "It's none of my business."
No. Still…
Tess watched the girl hop down to get another supply of gravel. "I'm going to go talk to her," she decided.
"You'll creep her out," Mark said. "Hey, you're creeping me out. She looks old enough to take care of herself."
He was right. At eight or nine, Tess had been opening cans for dinner and standing over her brother while he did his homework. This kid could fend for herself.
On the other hand, some sicko with a red light and a grudge was out there somewhere. Seeing a little girl alone gave Tess an icky feeling.
She stood up, making the boat rock under her shifting weight. "I'm just going make sure someone knows where she is."
"You are such a sucker," Mark said.
Tess lurched out of the boat and onto the dock.
The girl, who had dark hair, dainty features and oversize feet, ducked her chin and watched Tess sideways. Not unfriendly, but cautious.
"Hi," Tess said.
"Hi."
"Are you waiting for somebody?"
The girl stared off at the horizon. Either she thought Tess was a hopelessly uncool, interfering grown-up, or she'd been cautioned against speaking to strangers.
"Here on vacation?" Tess asked, feeling hopelessly uncool and interfering.
"No."
Tess glanced at Mark. He smiled and shook his head. No help at all.
"Well," Tess said. "If anybody bothers you, you can let me know."
The girl looked directly at Tess. She had large, light-gray eyes, cool and astute. She was older than Tess had assumed. And eerily familiar, which was dumb, because Tess was pretty sure she'd never seen this kid around town before.
"No one's going to bother me," the girl said.
Except you, the look implied.
"Great," Tess said. "But if someone did—"
"I'd call my dad," the girl interrupted. She waited a beat and then added, "He's the chief of police."
Chapter 11
Tess's world rocked, as if the marina were suddenly as unstable as Mark's boat.
This girl, with her clear gray eyes and her ragged nails and her expensive sneakers, was Jarek's daughter.
Tess took a step backward, trying to find her footing. "Oh," she said. "Okay. Well—"
A black-and-white police cruiser turned onto Harbor Street. With a feeling of inevitability weighing her stomach, Tess watched it roll to the end of the boardwalk. Jarek Denko, lean and dark and annoyed in his starched uniform, slammed the car door and stalked toward them.
Her heart fluttered. Actually fluttered.
The little girl—Allie—slid off her perch. "Hi, Dad," she said.
His gaze cut to Tess and then focused on his daughter. "What are you doing here?"
Tess was glad he wasn't using that acid-in-milk tone with her.
The girl's assurance slid away. "I went for a walk."
"I told you to watch TV while I was gone."
"You were gone a really long time."
Jarek grabbed the back of his neck with one hand, as if he had a headache. Tess felt an unexpected and not entirely welcome burst of sympathy for him.
"You're not supposed to leave the house without letting me know where you are, you're not supposed to walk alone, and—" he blew out a short, sharp breath "—you're not supposed to talk to strangers."
Allie's face smoothed into the closed mask of a child who is pretending very hard not to care. She stuck her thumbnail into her mouth.
"Actually," Tess blurted, "she wasn't talking to a stranger."
Jarek spared her a brief, unsmiling glance. "She didn't know that."
Tess tried again. "No, I mean she totally blew me off in the conversation department. I was completely intimidated."
Jarek's mouth compressed. He was really ticked off. Or maybe, Tess thought hopefully, he was trying not to smile? "I find that hard to believe."
Allie stopped chewing on her thumbnail. "Why aren't you a stranger?" she asked Tess.
Jarek frowned down at his daughter. "This is Teresa DeLucca."
"The reporter?"
Tess blinked. "He told you about me?"
Way to go, DeLucca. Now you're pumping a ten-year-old for information.
Allie's eyes sparkled with wicked intent. "Not really. I heard him arguing with Uncle Alex, and I asked Dad about you after."
Jarek had argued with his brother. Over her. Because of the article? The chocolate cruller turned queasily in Tess's stomach.
"Oh?" she asked weakly. "What were you, um—"
"It doesn't matter anymore," Jarek said.
Allie shoved her hands with their bitten nails into the pockets of her jeans. The gesture was so like Jarek's that Tess's breath caught. "Are you really going to paint clouds on my wall?" the girl asked.
Tess's gaze sought Jarek's. His was cool and unreadable. "I told her it was your idea," he said.
Oh, boy.
"Well," Tess said guardedly, "I'm not sure."
The girl nodded with the resignation of a child familiar with grown-up excuses. "Dad said you were busy."
Tess tried to ignore the surge of guilt. But it was no use. You are such a sucker, her brother's voice mocked in her head.
"I have to go to this fish boil tonight," she said.
"Boiled fish?" Allie wrinkled her nose. "Ugh."
"It's better than it sounds," Tess said. "It's whitefish, boiled up with red potatoes and onions and served with melted butter, lemon and coleslaw. Maybe—" she snuck a look at Jarek, but she still couldn't gauge his reactions "—maybe you should try it."
"I already planned on bringing Allie to the fish boil," Jarek said.
Because he wanted them to meet? Tess wondered. His daughter and his— She stumbled over the word. Girlfriend? Lover? Her pulse hammered.
"It's a good cause," she offered.
"That's what I figured," Jarek said. Her heart dropped with disappointment. And then he added blandly, "Besides, they might need help with traffic control."
Tess's soft mouth parted. Her eyes narrowed.
Jarek grinned, satisfied. She was so damn easy to read. He'd spent too much time out of patience with this case, out of his mind worrying over Allie, and half out of his skin with sexual frustration. It helped to know he could rattle Tess's cage.
"What is this?" she said. "Payback?"
Good guess. Too good. Not that Tess owed him a damn thing for Wednesday night, but he'd been heavy with need ever since. Oh, Jarek had had sleepless nights before. It was part of the job. But not this stubborn, grinding arousal, distracting as a toothache and a hell of a sight more obvious.
He glanced down at his daughter's interested face. "Can we discuss this later?" he asked Tess.
Her cheeks turned red, but she refused to let it go. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry for how you must be fee
ling. I didn't know, but I still feel some responsibility."
Didn't know? Of course she—
Jarek frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"The editorial," Tess said earnestly. "I had no idea Janice intended—"
Jarek laughed. God, he was a moron. She had him thinking with— Well, he sure wasn't using his brain. "Oh, that."
"What were you talking about?" she demanded.
He couldn't tell her. Not with his ten-year-old daughter between them absorbing every word, and Tess's brother watching from the deck of his boat like a sniper sighting down a rifle barrel.
"It's not important," Jarek said.
"You're not upset?" she asked.
"About the editorial? No."
"But—"
Jarek tugged gently on his daughter's pony tail. "Allie, why don't you go wait in the car?"
She considered. He tensed. So much between them was a battle these days. "Are you going to ground me?" she asked.
Familiar frustration locked his jaw. Why couldn't she just do as she was told? He wasn't going to bargain with her. He'd tried bargaining with her mother, and all his various deals with Linda had guaranteed was that they both felt screwed.
But he didn't want to go into a full demonstration of his heavy father routine, either. He didn't need that. Allie didn't deserve it. It would scare Tess off family life at the Denkos for sure.
He pulled himself up. Why would that matter?
"I don't know anything about grounding," Tess said. "But I think you get a reduced charge for cooperating with the police."
Allie looked at him hopefully. "For real?"
The uncertainty in her voice did him in. And by making this one concession, Jarek reasoned, he wasn't abrogating responsibility or compromising standards or doing one of the hundred other things you worried about when you were the single father of a ten-year-old girl. Not really.
"A more lenient sentence, anyway. But next time you take off—"
"I'll leave a note," his daughter promised.
He raised an eyebrow.
Allie tried again. "Call you first and ask?"
"That would be good," Jarek said, surprised and relieved by her conciliatory attitude. "At least that way maybe both of us will survive until your eighteenth birthday."
Allie rolled her eyes, but she started for the black-and-white. "Can I listen to the radio?"
All a Man Can Do Page 12
