by Lisa Childs
“I don’t agree with you,” he said. “While I wish the police department would do more to help out at the shelter, I understand that everyone’s busy. They’re understaffed and overworked. I appreciate how difficult their job is, but they do their duty protecting and serving Lakewood.”
Erin wondered if he didn’t appreciate that one officer more than the others. Or perhaps less. That was her problem, too, really, just one officer.
BILLY HALLIDAY SLAPPED his palm onto the suddenly vacated stool next to him at the bar. “Hey, roomie, have a seat.”
For once Kent wasn’t annoyed that someone had given up a stool for him. After today’s class, and fielding all of Erin’s questions, exhaustion tugged at his muscles and his mind.
“Hey, man,” Kent replied. “Haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“Yeah, I’ve been deep.”
“I thought you were just laying low to avoid your mom,” Kent teased, glancing over his shoulder to where Marla Halliday sat with the other CPA participants. “But then you wouldn’t have showed up here.”
“Not if I wanted to avoid her,” Billy agreed with a sigh. But he didn’t even glance toward his mother. His focus remained on the auburn-haired woman behind the bar. Brigitte Kowalczek, granddaughter of the man who owned the Lighthouse, had enrolled in the CPA, but Kent hadn’t quite figured out why. She spent a lot of time with police officers at the bar and had never seemed interested in them beyond getting their drinks. Billy, however, tracked her every move.
Brigitte and Billy?
Hell, Kent guessed it made more sense than him and Erin. That made no sense at all.
“What’s this?” Billy asked, leaning over to pick something out of the peanut shells on the floor.
Kent recognized the Channel 7 logo in the corner of the card and patted his now-empty pocket. He hadn’t bothered changing out of his uniform before coming to the bar. Since he never knew when he might need to talk to the press, he kept a uniform at home, too. “That’s Monica Fox’s card.”
Billy lifted a dark brow. “Oh? And why would you be carrying her card around?”
“Nah, it’s not like that.” Kent knew how his friend’s mind worked. “It’s only business.”
Billy laughed as he flipped over the card. “That’s why she wrote her private cell number on the back under the words Call me.”
“That’s not what you think,” Kent said, even though he wasn’t naive enough to believe it wasn’t. Monica had made her interest in him pretty clear, and apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d figured it out.
“I think you should give her a call,” Billy suggested as he passed the card back to Kent.
He shoved it in his pocket, shaking his head. “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“This chick has been after you for a while,” Billy reminded him. “When are you going to stop playing hard to get?”
Kent grinned. “I’m not hard to get.”
Not if the woman drew his interest, like Erin Powell did. If she didn’t hate him, he would have been easy for her to get.
“So you’re just playing?” Billy teased. “My roommate, the ‘playa.’”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Kent scoffed. He knew his friend, who usually called him a boring old man, was only kidding. Apparently Erin Powell didn’t, though. She gasped, drawing their attention to where she stood behind them, unabashedly eavesdropping.
“Erin—”
She whirled and returned to the table with the rest of the CPA members, but she didn’t sit back down. Instead, she grabbed up her purse and headed toward the door.
Kent slid off his stool, but a strong hand on his arm held him back from following her.
“Let her go,” Billy advised. “Goodbye and good riddance when it comes to that woman, Bullet. She’s nothing but trouble for you.”
She was more than that. He had finally worked his way through the list of Erin Powells and found his. She hadn’t always been the bitter woman she was now, but he hadn’t found out yet what had made her so hateful.
“I need to talk to her,” Kent insisted.
“You need to wring her neck,” Billy muttered, turning back toward the bar—and the bartender. He didn’t even notice Kent’s wave as he headed after Erin.
Kent followed her out the door and through the dimly lit parking lot. She moved fast, so he didn’t catch her until she was about to climb into her minivan. That first night she had followed him to the Lighthouse, he’d thought her choice of vehicle strange for a single woman. Now he understood.
She whirled toward him, a can of pepper spray directed toward his face. Obviously she’d heard his approach. Was there anything the woman missed—beside the fact that he was really a nice guy? Pride and respect that she could take care of herself flashed through him.
He held up his hands. “I’d say don’t shoot, but now that you know it’s me, you’re certain to.”
“I’m not going to shoot—or spray—you,” she said, and dropped the canister back in her purse.
“You’re sure?” he asked. “You seem pretty upset by whatever you overheard.” He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed her behind him. He’d been out of the field for only three years, but his instincts must have grown dull. Would he be able to go back if he ever got the bullet out?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stated. “I wasn’t eavesdropping.”
“Yes, you were,” he insisted. “If that’s how you do your investigative reporting, it’s no wonder you get everything wrong in your articles.”
Maybe he should ask her for some pointers, because even though he’d learned more about her, he hadn’t yet discovered why she hated him.
“I don’t get anything wrong,” she argued. “I’ve been right about you all along.”
He sighed. “Erin, you have no idea—”
“And now I know how you’re getting some good press,” she exclaimed, her voice sharp with anger. “You’re sleeping with reporters.”
Kent, intrigued by the trace of jealousy he detected on her beautiful face, stepped close, trapping her between the open door of her van and his body. “Don’t you wish…”
Chapter Six
Regrettably, she did wish. It must have been because she hadn’t had a relationship in so long that she was even remotely attracted to Kent Terlecki. Face flaming, she ducked her head to glance at her watch, but couldn’t even read the dial. His broad shoulders blocked the faint glow of the parking lot lamp. Her pulse raced at his closeness, at the heat of his body chasing the chill from hers.
“I have to go….”
“What are you now?” Kent asked, his voice deep with amusement and that potent charm. “Cinderella?”
“I’m late. I have to get home to Jason.” Before her mother got so mad that she refused to watch him anymore. Oh, heck, Erin was probably already too late not to make her mother mad. If her mom stopped babysitting, Erin would have to quit the CPA. There was no one else Jason was comfortable enough to stay with without his nerves and separation anxiety bringing on an asthma attack.
And if she left the CPA, she would lose the column Herb had given her, and probably her job, as well. Since the Chronicle was the only newspaper in Lakewood, she didn’t have any other employment options. How would she take care of Jason then?
“I really have to go,” she said, hoping she could sweet-talk her mother into giving her another chance. She tried to ease past him to slide onto the driver’s seat, but instead of giving her room, he stepped even closer and put his hand on her shoulder.
“Do you have time for a question?” he asked.
“No.” Her skin tingled beneath the warmth of his palm. She tried shrugging it off, but his grip tightened.
“I’ll answer one of yours if you answer mine,” he offered.
Would she finally learn the reason for his nickname? Or should she pose the question that was most important to her: had he framed her brother to boost his arrest record? No, she would have to know him
better before she dared ask that. There was no point in asking a question if you knew the person was only going to lie.
“Okay,” she agreed. Her chance of cajoling her mother was not very good anyway. She and her brother had never been able to talk her into or out of anything.
“What’s your question for me?” she asked, betting that it was about Jason and how she had come to be his guardian. She didn’t intend to tell Terlecki the truth; she had shared with very few people where her brother actually was.
But as Kent leaned in, his head dipping close to hers, she worried that he was going to ask her for another kiss. And that she would be helpless to say anything but yes. She held her breath, willing herself to resist him.
His gray eyes glinted under the streetlamp, and his lips curved into a slight grin. “How does an idealist turn into a tabloid reporter?”
Defensive and oddly disappointed, she bristled. “The Chronicle is not a tabloid.”
“It’s not a legit paper, either.”
“Of course it is. We print all the news in the Lakewood area.” Except those stories that Herb considered bleeding-heart pieces, like Reverend Thomas’s shelter for runaways.
Kent’s chuckle was more patronizing than amused. “You only print the news that the mayor wants covered.”
“That’s crazy,” she scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Everyone knows that Mayor Standish owns Herb Stein and a controlling interest in the Chronicle,” he informed her. “Joel Standish uses the paper to push his own agenda.”
She hadn’t lived in Lakewood long enough to understand the city’s politics. “I don’t get what any of that has to do with me.”
“Haven’t you wondered why, after barely a year of working for the Chronicle, you’ve been given your own column?”
She had, but she wouldn’t admit that to him. “Because I’m a good reporter.”
He laughed. “Because you’re writing what the mayor wants you to write.”
“I haven’t even met the mayor,” she said.
“He’s still your boss, and he’s using you, Erin.” Kent sounded concerned, as if he actually cared about her. “The mayor has it in for the chief, and he’s using you to help him discredit the department.”
She tensed, wishing she could ease away from him, but the door at her back trapped her, their bodies so close that his badge nearly brushed her sweater. He was flirting with her, she reminded herself, just as he flirted with every other woman who crossed his path.
“Of course you would say that,” she said, “because I’m not letting you use me like Monica Fox does.”
He leaned forward so that his face nearly touched Erin’s. “Nothing’s going on with me and Monica Fox.”
A breath of relief eased the pressure in her lungs. She shouldn’t care if he was sleeping with the gorgeous television reporter. She shouldn’t care at all about his personal life. And he shouldn’t care about hers. “Why did you ask me that question? What do you mean about my being an idealist?”
“I know about the Peace Corps,” he said. “How you entered it right out of college. I read the articles you wrote while you were in South America.”
She swallowed, nerves and emotion threatening to choke her. “You did?”
“They were good,” he declared, “inspiring even. They’re a far cry from what you’ve written about me and the Lakewood PD.”
“I was a different person back then.” Before she had found out about her brother’s arrest. Her parents had kept it from her while she was in the Corps. They hadn’t wanted to distract her from the work she’d been doing. And they hadn’t thought she could do anything to help her brother.
She hoped they were wrong.
“I think you’re still that person,” Kent said. His hand squeezed her shoulder. “Inside.”
Her pulse leaped, but she didn’t shrug off his touch. “You don’t know me, and no matter how much digging you do, you’re never going to know me,” she said, trying to convince herself, as well as him.
“I would if you’d let me in,” he murmured. His fingers moved up to her neck and the curve of her jaw.
She needed to slap his hand away. She needed to shove him back, but all she could do was stare into his face, handsome even in the dim light of the parking lot. She’d dated in high school and college, but none of those men had made her heart pound this hard. Why him?
“I need to go,” she said, wincing when she realized she sounded as if she was asking his permission. “I need to get home…to Jason….”
Kent nodded as if he understood, but he didn’t step back. He moved closer still, so that their bodies touched—thighs rubbing against thighs, breasts against chest. His hand slid up her to cup her cheek, and he lowered his head.
Erin flicked her tongue across her lower lip in anticipation of his kiss, but his mouth didn’t touch hers.
His lips only brushed across her cheek, his breath tickling her ear as he asked, “What about your question for me, Erin?”
“I—I…” She had so many questions she wanted to ask him. Such as when was he going to kiss her….
“What do you want to know about me?” he asked, his voice a low, sexy rasp.
Erin shivered despite the warmth of his body pressed against hers. She shook her head, resisting temptation. “I can’t…”
She could not be attracted to him—any man but Kent Terlecki.
“Can’t?” he prompted.
“I don’t have time to…” She swallowed hard, fighting the desire that tempted her to close the distance between their mouths. “I don’t have time to interview you.”
He drew back slightly, enough that she could see the curve of his lips. “I didn’t agree to an interview, Ms. Powell. Just one question.”
“I can’t…not tonight.” The question would have to wait.
He studied her face, but she assured herself that he couldn’t see the need in her eyes in the dim light. She hoped.
Finally he stepped back. “Then another night.”
Her pulse kept tripping along. Another night. Would he kiss her then as he had before? No, he couldn’t—and she couldn’t want him to.
She slid under the steering wheel, but before she closed the door, she said, “Remember that when I do ask you that question, you owe me an honest answer.”
“I promise,” he said. “I’ve never been anything but honest with you.”
She refrained from calling him a liar, because she had no proof, but she reminded him, “You’ve been evasive.”
“I won’t evade this question. I’m giving you a freebie, Ms. Powell.”
“I will collect,” she vowed as she closed the door. Her hand shook as she turned the key in the ignition. She wanted to collect more than that answer. She wanted another kiss.
“HOW ABOUT GIVING ME THAT honest answer?”
Kent jumped, surprised that he was no longer alone. But his attention had been focused on the taillights of Erin’s van as she pulled out of the lot. He should be glad she’d left before he’d done something stupid—like kiss her again.
But his tense body and pounding heart protested his restraint. He almost believed that she’d wanted him to, that she’d waited for his kiss. For the first time Kent cursed his control.
He turned in the direction of the familiar voice. Billy stepped from the shadows.
Kent used to be as stealthy as his friend, but after spending the past three years on the evening news, he would probably never be able to go undercover again.
“What do you want an honest answer about?” he finally asked.
“How you really feel about Erin Powell?” Billy’s dark eyes were intent on his face.
Kent edged back a few feet, afraid of betraying his true feelings. Knowing what his friend expected him to say, he replied, “She’s a pain in the ass.”
“But you like her,” Sergeant Halliday stated, as if accusing Kent of a crime.
He shrugged. “She hates my guts.”
But she hadn’t pushed him away or kneed him in the groin. Maybe she didn’t hate him as much as she wanted to. Why did she want to hate him? He still hadn’t found out the reason.
Billy snorted. “You don’t hate hers.”
“I don’t hate her,” he admitted, “but I wouldn’t say I like her.” He wanted her, though. He wanted all the passion she revealed in her column and that he’d seen in those old articles he’d found. Erin Powell might have lost her idealism, but she hadn’t lost her fire.
“She’s certainly given you no reason to like her,” Billy reminded him. “God, man, we can’t have all that bad press right now. You know that better than anyone else.”
Kent sighed. “Yeah, Mayor Standish is breathing down the chief’s neck.” Probably because Frank Archer was the only man the mayor couldn’t buy, manipulate or bully. But the chief was too popular with the city council and the public for the mayor to simply fire him. So he was punishing him another way. Kent couldn’t help but think it was personal; the two men had known each other a long time. “Standish is looking for any reason to cut our budget.”
“And Erin Powell is giving him the ammunition with every column she writes.”
Kent groaned, the last of his desire for her draining from his body. “I’m trying to do something about that,” he insisted. “I’m trying to find out more about her.”
“So you can neutralize her, or because you’re interested in her?” Billy asked.
“I’m not…” He couldn’t lie to his best friend. He couldn’t deny Erin intrigued him…and attracted him. He’d always loved a mystery, but everything he learned about her just raised more questions…and his interest in her.
Billy sighed. “You’re not going to call the Channel 7 lady, are you?”
“No, I’m not going to call her.” He reached into his pocket for the reporter’s card and handed it to his friend. “But you can.”
Billy passed it back. “No.”
“Why not?”
“She’s interested in you, not me.” He gestured toward his beard and shaggy hair.
Kent narrowed his eyes, catching a hint of something else in his friend’s tone. “And you’re interested in someone else.”
