“Aren’t you the brass?”
“You know what I mean. We’ll find Darren. The place does tend to run without you, you know,” Tom added jokingly, and Jarod blew out a breath.
“Fine. Keep me up-to-date on what’s happening?”
“You bet. By the way, you put any more thought toward taking that captain’s position that’s opening up? You’re the perfect candidate. You’d have no problem getting through the interviews. I’d be happy to write you a rec.”
Something nasty squeezed at Jarod’s temples, and he told Tom the truth. “All due respect, and believe me, being asked to fill your shoes is an honor, but I don’t know if I want that, Tom. I like where I am now. Too much paperwork comes with being a captain.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Tom agreed, laughing good-naturedly. “Still, there are more guys who can do your job, and not many as well suited as you are to this chair. You’re a natural leader, Jarod. And captains are still hands-on much of the time. Better pay, too. Maybe a chance of living a little longer,” Tom joked, having been in the captain’s seat for ten years before recently being promoted to assistant chief.
Jarod knew Tom wanted him to take the spot, and it was getting harder to resist. “I’ll think some more on it.”
“Think faster. This has to be decided sooner than later.”
“Will do.”
They hung up, and Jarod rubbed his eyes, feeling tired. A restless night’s sleep had done him no favors. He was going to have to make some decisions. His father wouldn’t be happy if he turned down the promotion, yet it just didn’t feel right. He should be excited, but for whatever reason, he wasn’t. He liked what he did, and had never really thought about climbing the political ladder. He just wasn’t ambitious that way.
Shaking his head, he set the thoughts aside and sat back down at his computer, distracting himself by typing Lacey’s name into the search engine.
His conscience pricked at him a bit, but what of it? He was going to be working with the woman, and he was curious.
Surprisingly, he didn’t find much. Wouldn’t a person in her line of work have more Internet presence? Promotions, articles, displays of their work, a Web page? She did have a Web page connected to Bliss, but it was basic info, a few samples of her previous work—impressive—but most notably, no pictures of herself. Wasn’t that odd, for a photographer?
He shrugged. Maybe he was off base. However, following an instinct, he accessed a database used by law enforcement to do background checks and paused before typing in her name. He had no call to do this, no professional reason.
No, his reasons were personal. The lady had been seriously stressed about something. Jarod didn’t think for a minute that she was a criminal, but she was hiding something; he could smell it. And he wanted to know why she was so afraid, and of what.
He wouldn’t dig too deep, only see if anything curious came up. Then he’d leave it at that. There was a fine line between curiosity and concern, and invasion of privacy.
He didn’t know if he was relieved or not to find that on the surface query nothing came up. Not even a speeding ticket or a court date. However, Lacey Brown had changed her name to her mother’s maiden name, Graham, upon arriving in New York City. She’d renewed all of her official IDs, license, Social Security, etcetera, all at once.
When she’d come here, she’d reinvented herself—it piqued Jarod’s attention as to why. It could be as simple as her not liking her last name for starting a new career, or perhaps she’d been married, and returned to her mother’s name when she’d left the relationship.
Lacey Brown. He couldn’t see where that was such an objectionable name—why wouldn’t she want her father’s name? She’d sounded happy with her childhood from what Jarod could tell when he’d heard her talking about growing up on the ranch in Nevada, and so why the switch?
Some people did business by adopting a business name, a DBA, “doing business as” but Lacey had changed her entire identity, officially. When someone took such a drastic step, there was usually a big reason why.
The need to know was balanced by the need to stick to professional ethics. He’d already crossed the line slightly, and he wouldn’t pry any further, regardless of the temptation. Closing the database and the computer before he gave in to his baser impulses, he sat quietly, wondering.
Other than criminal activity, the other obvious option was that she was hiding or running away from something or someone who scared her. It brought him to simmering anger to think about that, and he almost opened the database again, wanting to know. If Lacey was afraid of something, he could help. What would he find if he checked into Lacey Brown’s past?
If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him, he reminded himself sternly. He had no compelling reason to pry into her business. None at all.
Standing up, he headed for the shower, needing to get out of the room. He was meeting with Lacey in two hours, and he was looking forward to it a little more than he should be.
IN GOOD TIME Lacey finished two of her interview consultations, one with a member of their own FDNY and another with a member of the California Highway Patrol. Things were moving ahead and a spirit of excitement was only dimmed by the black cloud of knowing Scott was out of jail. She’d barely slept all night, paranoid and stressed, and feeling like an idiot for how she’d acted with the Ranger in the pizza place.
She glanced at Jackie, who was across the studio, but it was hopeless. Jackie was far too busy flirting with one of New York’s best to notice Lacey. Lacey frowned—Jackie was a free spirit and probably just used to playing the game at work, but it was hard to believe she was in much of a relationship if she was acting like that….
And look at me, little Miss Critical, who hasn’t been near a man in months, Lacey chastised herself.
To say she was feeling out of sorts was an understatement, her day full of surprises so far. The execs from Bliss had wanted her to walk them through the current setup, and though she’d tried to explain that it could change once she had all the early photos in, they had seemed happy, if not thrilled, with the early work.
Her stomach turned; she needed them to be thrilled, ecstatic even, but Lacey was sure that the female exec in Marketing, Nina, would never like anything she did completely. There was an innate animosity there that Lacey didn’t understand, but it happened sometimes. Personalities clashed for whatever reason.
Lacey was determined to do better than her best, and wow them no matter what.
It wasn’t going to be a smooth morning by the looks of things. Jackie was busy and had messed up a few scheduling details. Assisting Lacey wasn’t her only duty at the magazine, so Lacey tried to be understanding. Now there was a very annoyed California Highway Patrol officer demanding to know why his appointment had changed—again.
Lacey tried to placate him, but she just couldn’t fit him in at the moment, and needed to push his shoot back until she was done with Jarod. The patrol officer wasn’t happy about it. The guy was not Mr. Sunshine, and Lacey couldn’t blame him for being irritated, but there was nothing else to be done.
Jarod was due here any second, and she needed time to prepare. She wanted to start by taking some studio shots of Jarod, to get a feel for him, so to speak. She’d thought about that in more ways than one the evening before, until the incident in the café had thrown her.
She couldn’t help it, but seeing someone manhandled just brought back flashes of Scott. Seeing Jarod step in had been both exciting and frightening. She didn’t know what to think of it.
Left to handle it all on her own for the time being, Lacey turned back to the disgruntled highway patrol officer and offered a friendly smile, hoping it would dim his temper. It did, maybe too well. She realized while she’d been looking toward Jackie, the guy’s eyes hadn’t moved from her chest.
Great. Like she needed this.
“Listen, Officer Bridges, if you go talk to my assistant—”
“She looks busy,” he said, not even g
lancing at Jackie. He stepped closer, turned on a little charm of his own. “I’d rather talk to you. Maybe we could have dinner, work this out, find some time to squeeze me in. I’m not opposed to a private session, you know?”
The suggestive way he said the words and leaned in made Lacey reflexively pull back, his intimidating closeness unwelcome. Her back was, however, literally against the wall, and he planted a big hand just a few inches to the right of her head.
Panic was reflexive.
She tried to keep her cool in spite of her racing heart, but wanted to draw the line at his suggestive tone and mannerisms. She was in a public place, and in no danger. “Back off, please.”
He grinned. “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart. Surely you and I can work something out that’s good for both of us? I came all the way across the country to be here…can’t we make it worth my while?”
She weighed her options quickly, and decided she wouldn’t stand much chance of pushing him away, his chest was massive. She started to duck under his arm, when a cool voice stopped her mid duck.
“The lady said back off. I suggest you listen.”
She looked underneath the officer’s massive arm to see a pair of well-fitted jeans…and cowboy boots.
Straightening, she met Jarod’s eyes, and was shocked that the warm brown of his gaze could turn so cold.
“Why don’t you get in line, Tex,” the California officer said dismissively over his shoulder.
Lacey found herself suddenly standing alone, free from the arm that had been by her head. The next thing she knew, two large and extremely agitated men were facing off with each other just six feet in front of her nose, seething at each other like large, angry bulls. She moved quickly, keeping her distance, her heart pounding, and she made it to Jackie’s side.
“Call security,” she said, her voice tight. She noted with relief the fireman who’d been talking to Jackie heading toward the two men with calming gestures.
“That won’t be necessary,” Jarod said, overhearing her, and acknowledging the fireman. “Everything is under control, and Chippie here is just leaving.”
The young Californian started to object, but took in the measure of the Texas Ranger and fireman standing before him and broke eye contact first. He cursed, pointing a finger in Lacey’s direction.
“Fine, I’m outta here and not coming back to this hole of a city. You can find someone else for this stupid calendar,” he said, spitting and sending red-faced looks toward all of them as he stormed out. “You had me too late in the lineup anyway. Don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”
Jackie’s voice broke through Lacey’s haze, but her eyes remained glued to the men.
“Hey, what’s up? You’re shaking like a leaf.”
Lacey blinked a few times, and realized everyone was staring at her now, not the men. Awareness kicked in.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically.
“You don’t seem fine. That guy really got to you, huh?”
“He was just being stupid,” she said, her throat feeling dry.
“Well, Mr. November took care of him just fine, with a little help from Mr. April, who, by the way, is perfectly single and lives here in New York,” Jackie said playfully. Lacey barely heard, her eyes still on Jarod as he spoke with the firefighter.
“They make quite a pair, huh?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
“Mr. November sure seems interested in impressing you—he looked like he wanted to wallop that guy.”
Which is exactly what bothered Lacey. She liked Jarod, as much as she knew about him, but he had an aggressive streak and wasn’t the type of guy to hold back. This was New York, not the Wild West.
“You should ask him out,” Jackie added.
“I can’t date these guys, Jackie. It’s not professional. At least until their shoot is done. The magazine must have some kind of policy about that.”
“For regular staff, yes, but not regarding contract and freelance employees, which includes you and those two gorgeous hunks over there. So it’s fair game.”
“I need to get November into the studio for some inside shots,” Lacey said, dropping the subject and focusing on work again.
“Hey, do you want to tell me what has you so freaked out, Lace?” Jackie inquired.
Frowning more deeply, Lacey studied her lens as she polished it. “I’m just tired and stressed. I need this to go perfectly. We’re off to a bumpy start and we need to get this under control.”
Jackie’s expression soured, and Lacey regretted sounding so harsh.
“No problem. I’ll get back on it.”
Lacey closed her eyes.
“Jackie, wait. I’m sorry. I just hate getting rattled when I really need to concentrate. This calendar is my big break, and I want it to be perfect,” she explained.
“I get it, and I’m sorry, too. I’ve been enjoying the fringe benefits too much. But Ken’s been such a crank lately, it’s a relief to come to work, you know?”
Lacey wasn’t sure if Jackie wanted to say more about her troubles with her boyfriend, but now wasn’t the time, and she wasn’t exactly someone to hand out romantic advice anyway.
“I hope it works out,” she offered and lifted her camera, studying the serious profiles, angular features, and sharp eyes of the two men. She snapped a few quick shots of them as they talked. Candid shots, when people weren’t posing or looking, had always been her favorites to take. A moment captured in time that often showed the truth about the person being photographed.
“Well, you have no shortage of material to work with, that’s for sure. Just let me know what you need to make it happen.” Jackie slipped back into her professional role, and Lacey felt her shoulders relax.
“I’m moving to studio one—could you tell Jarod to join me in about ten minutes? I’ll be ready for him then.”
“Sure. You got it,” Jackie said, though Lacey could feel her assistant staring as she left the room.
She needed the few minutes of quiet before being around anyone again, to get her bearings, to distance herself from her churning stomach and riled nerves. The cop wouldn’t have hurt her, he was just being obnoxious. Lacey had come across worse in her dating life, and had usually laughed it off. This time, she hadn’t. Was it always going to be this way?
No. She wouldn’t allow it. It was simply the aftereffect of the news about Scott. And it had to stop. Now.
Taking a deep breath, she cleared her mind and stepped backward, finding herself up against a solid wall of muscle.
“Whoa, careful there. You okay?”
Jarod’s hands were on her shoulders, the rest of him warm and hard against her back as her nervous system sparked to life like a car battery with a new charge.
Warmth from his touch traveled over her skin. He leaned in, speaking by her ear, and she closed her eyes as his voice filled her senses.
“Lacey, are you okay? You seemed upset out there.”
The reminder had her pulling away, rubbing her hands over her arms and meeting his gaze furtively.
“I’m fine. I just…I don’t like…Nothing. I’m fine. Let’s get to work.”
She looked away from Jarod’s curious gaze and set to messing with lights and her camera, placing a small wooden stool at the center of the room, in front of a few gray-and-white screens.
“Can you please sit there? Don’t pose or do anything particular. Hang out and let me get a sense of shooting you.”
Jarod agreeably made his way to the seat and turned to her with a smile.
“This okay?”
“Sure,” she said, shrugging and taking a few preliminary shots.
She fell into her groove easily, everything else taking a backseat as she studied him through the lens, taking in his features as if she’d never seen him before. Zooming in, she noted the lush fringe of lashes and framed his eyes only, liking the laugh lines carved into tanned skin and the flecks of color in his cocoa irises that only her camera would pick up.
&nbs
p; Click.
Moving down, she saw the beginnings of his beard and realized his nose had been broken.
“How’d you break your nose?” she asked, her fingers navigating the camera’s controls quickly and naturally as she readjusted her shots. The space between them dissolved through the closeness of the focus, and she could have been touching him as much as touching the machine in her hands.
Click.
“Which time?” he asked with a sardonic slant to his lips.
“The last time.”
“Kidnapping standoff. A guy held a woman and her daughter in their apartment with a shotgun for eighteen hours. When we went in, some of us went for him, drew the fire, while others got the victims out. Turned out the gun wasn’t loaded. The guy was strung out, though, and it took six of us to get him out of there. I caught his knee to the face while restraining him.”
Jarod’s eyes became so serious as he spoke, the irises expanding and the brighter flecks of gold seeming to disappear momentarily, swallowed by his memories. She widened out the shot.
Click, Click, click.
Amazing.
Her blood sizzled the longer she listened, the closer she looked.
“Knee to the face, sounds fairly painful,” she commented briefly to keep him going.
To that, he smiled more widely, and the camera responded with an explosion of action that took her to the end of the roll. She held her breath the entire time.
Finding she needed to catch her breath, she stood and reached for some more film.
“You can relax for a second,” she said, not looking up, needing to get hold of an emotional response she didn’t understand. She loved to shoot and always enjoyed the rush, but it had never affected her physically, never like this. With Jarod, the necessary distance between photographer and subject was made of gossamer, thin and fading.
“No digital?” he asked casually, standing, but not joining her. She could feel him watching her and it was disconcerting. Normally, the positions were reversed, the subject of her shoots being the one studied and explored.
Hard to Resist Page 4
