Nowhere to Hide

by Terry Odell

  “Thank you! But you shouldn’t have. I was the jerk.” Her face heated and she lowered her head, avoiding his gaze.

  “You said we should drop it. It’s over, done, and I’m hungry. Shall we go?”

  She went to the kitchen, set the box on the counter and retrieved her purse. “Sounds good. I haven’t had anything since a bagel this morning. I’m starved.”

  Outside, he stepped away so she could lock the door, then offered his arm. She shook her head in amusement, but snaked hers through it, and they walked up the driveway to the street where he’d parked his Jeep. He opened the passenger door for her, and she slid in.

  She leaned over to open his door for him. When she realized she was giving him the view she’d been worried about, she jerked upright and met his eyes. At least he had the decency to pretend he hadn’t looked.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Graham started the car, made a sharp U-turn and headed down the street. He tried to ignore the tug in his loins when she’d leaned across the seats. The way the tops of her firm, round breasts had peeked out as the neckline of her dress swung forward. This was not the woman he’d seen at the gym last night. That had definitely been Mac. This was Colleen. And tonight, she sparkled. He was going to make up for whatever had pissed her off last night. Be the perfect gentleman.

  The spray from the quasi-Italian fountains that gave the shopping center its name shimmered in the early evening light. He parked near the round black awnings that marked the entrance to the restaurant. He saw Colleen unbuckle her belt and reach for the door latch and he tapped her arm.

  “Wait. Please.” He saw a flash in her eyes and a retort obviously bitten back. But she waited while he walked around the car to open her door.

  He didn’t pretend he wasn’t looking when she swung her legs around and took his arm to steady herself as she climbed down. He saw her glance down at her hint of décolletage and flush, but she met his eyes with a shy smile.

  “Thanks. I’m not used to these shoes.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered and squeezed her hand.

  She hesitated. Her face turned a deeper shade of pink. “Thank you.” She put her hand over his. “You look … really good.”

  They walked the few paces to the restaurant in silence. He saw her reach for the door, and when she held back and waited for him to do it, something inside shifted, leveled off.

  He pulled the door open and let his eyes adjust to the dim light. The scent of exotic spices filled the air. He waited for Colleen to enter, then stepped in behind her.

  “I’m not used to this female stuff,” she said.

  “I like independence in a woman, but tonight … I don’t know. I suppose I want to feel like …”

  Before he could finish, the hostess greeted them and led them to a sunken booth at the far side of the room. As she lowered herself onto the padded bench, she realized that sitting on the floor was an illusion. The tables actually had plenty of leg room beneath them.

  Graham unfurled his napkin and placed it in his lap. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t for a minute think you need taking care of, but sometimes it feels good to think I’m taking care of a woman.”

  “That’s why you became a cop, isn’t it? To take care of people. Protect them. Right wrongs.”

  He nodded, relieved she’d understood. Of course she would. She’d been a cop too. “I’m glad you’ll let me play out my evening of gallantry, then.”

  “Sure. But next time, it’ll be my turn.”

  Next time. His heart did a little dance. A waiter approached and asked to take their drink orders. Graham was about to order champagne for the two of them when the memory of the Scotch bottle on Colleen’s shelf stopped him short. He searched her eyes, but saw no guilt, no hesitation. “Would you like something?”

  “I think I’d rather wait until dinner. But feel free. I haven’t eaten all day. Anything now would wipe me out.”

  Graham turned back to the waiter. “May I see the wine list?”

  The waiter set a padded folder in front of Graham. “I’ll give you a moment.”

  “Do you prefer reds? Whites?” Graham asked Colleen. “Do you know what you’re going to order? Not that I’m rigid about wine pairings.”

  She perused the menu. “One of the curries, I think. Can’t decide between the yellow or the Panaeng. The yellow looks good, but I’m in the mood for lamb.”

  He picked up his own menu. “How about we get one of each?”

  She agreed, and he scanned the wine offerings, but he couldn’t deny the gnawing of his conscience. If Colleen did have a problem, he shouldn’t be contributing. Yet she was an adult and had to be responsible for her own actions. He closed the list and folded his hands on top of it.

  “Colleen, do you trust me?”

  She gave him a quizzical look. “Sure. Order anything you want. I’m pretty easy.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Her expression changed to one of concern. “Is there something wrong?”

  “No. But … I need to know we can be honest with each other.” God, he didn’t want to blow the evening now. He wanted so much to take her hands in his, but he resisted. “I don’t mean you have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but if you do answer, I want it to be the truth. And it goes both ways.”

  “This is like, heavy Celt to Celt now, isn’t it?”

  He wiped his palms on his napkin. Questioning Kimberly had been so much easier. He met Colleen’s solemn gaze and plunged off the edge of the cliff. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I care. A lot. And the other day, when I was checking out your place after the break-in, I noticed a bottle of Scotch on the shelf, with a line on it. I wondered—”

  “If I was an alcoholic?”

  Her tone indicated neither offense nor indignation. “It crossed my mind you might have a problem, yes.”

  She took a deep breath, but didn’t break the lock on his eyes. “I drank too much a while ago. Short term, and I realized it wasn’t the answer to my problems. That bottle is there to remind me when I shouldn’t be drinking. I’m not an alcoholic, and I would love some wine with dinner. But I’ll understand if you think it would be better to stick to something soft.”

  He realized he’d stopped breathing and managed to inhale. “I hope I wasn’t out of line.”

  She smiled. “Actually, it’s kind of sweet that you cared. I mean, you could have gotten me drunk and …” She blushed.

  He loved the way she blushed. He motioned the waiter over. “The Jordan Cabernet. But with our meal.”

  “Excellent choice, sir. And are you ready to order?”

  “Why don’t you start us with the fresh summer rolls?” He raised his eyebrows at Colleen and she nodded her agreement. He gave the waiter their curry orders. “Beef with the yellow, and lamb with the Panaeng.”

  “Very good.” The waiter picked up the wine list and menus and turned away.

  Colleen sipped her water. “Can I ask you a question now? Honest answer?”

  “Of course.” He braced himself for whatever she’d throw at him.

  “Why me tonight? You hardly know me. Why aren’t you tossing down some brews in a sports bar with your buddies?”

  He stalled behind a long drink of water. He’d opened the door for this one and if he couldn’t be honest, what was the point? “It’s hard to explain. I wasn’t sure I was up for that kind of an evening. I’ll save it for when the transfer is official. I’m not all that close to a lot of the guys at work.”

  “I find that hard to believe. You’re a nice guy, charming and funny. What’s not to like?”

  He twisted his napkin. “It goes back a long time.” Shit, if he could ask her if she was a drunk, why shouldn’t he answer her questions? In three days, he felt closer to her than he had to anyone in the last three years. Longer. Maybe ever.

  Colleen toyed with her fork. “We agreed we didn’t have to answer, you know.”

  “No. I want to.” He took a deep
breath and started talking. He buried the pain and let the words flow. “I was hired right out of school, which is unusual here. Job competition is stiff and the office wants people with prior experience, military service, you know.”

  She smiled. “Yes, I do. I was a cop too.”

  Their summer rolls arrived and the waiter explained the different dipping sauces. When the waiter left, Graham continued.

  “Right. Well, I was assigned a trainer when I started. Richard Proctor. Older, near retirement. He was happy being a Patrol officer, didn’t want to do anything else. And he liked having a young, gullible kid who didn’t know any better.”

  “Dirty cop?”

  “Not on the take, if that’s what you mean. But he was the kind of cop who never paid for his coffee, or his uniform cleaning, or anything he could charm his way out of. He showed me how to take advantage of the uniform, especially with women, how to milk the clock on breaks and lunches, and how to put in the bare minimum to get through the day.” He felt a trickle of sweat at his neck. “And I was dumb enough to think maybe that was part of the territory. He always said we were putting our lives on the line and these were the perks we deserved.”

  “Why would they assign someone like that as your training partner? Didn’t anyone else know?”

  “I’ve asked myself that question for the last eight years. First I thought nobody knew. He was pretty discreet until the end. Then I wondered if it had been a test. To see if I would turn him in. And if I did, would it mean I’d passed or failed? Cops stick up for cops and everyone hates the Professional Standard Division rat squad.” He paused and dipped a roll into one of the sauces without thinking. He dunked it up and down a few times while he watched Colleen, trying to see if there was any contempt in her eyes, and not sure what he’d do if there was.

  “What happened?” She watched him, waiting for him to continue, her expression curious, nothing more.

  He left the roll in the sauce. “I kept my mouth shut. A couple of years later, he was caught … milking the clock … with the hookers on his beat. And then all the rest came out, and he was encouraged to retire.”

  “But you weren’t with him anymore. Why would they think you were like him?”

  The waiter returned with their dinners and the wine. Thankful for the break, Graham went through the wine tasting ritual and indicated his approval. When they’d been served, both ate in silence for a few minutes.

  Colleen broke the awkwardness by lifting her glass. “I would like to propose a toast to the newest CID member of the Sheriff’s Office. May your past remain behind you and the future bring nothing but happiness.”

  He raised his glass and touched it to hers. “Thanks. I mean it. If I didn’t blow it already.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He explained how he’d been late with his first report.

  “Hey, better to get the first mistake out of the way. Kind of like the first scratch on a new car. You can relax.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, maybe.”

  They sipped their wine and for the first time, he was comfortable dealing with his early years on the force. Something in her eyes said she understood. “I was a little like Proctor, you know. For a while. And even when I’d realized how wrong it was, there was still guilt by association. It took a long time to get his smell off me.” His voice was so low he wasn’t sure she’d heard.

  “You’re not like him now. And the people who matter know it, or we wouldn’t be celebrating.”

  “It doesn’t feel a lot like a celebration anymore, does it? Kind of depressing.”

  “No, not at all.” Her green eyes glistened. “It’s tough to talk about. I’m flattered.”

  “I know it’s all a big joke at the station now, and there aren’t many around who remember, but I can still feel them looking at me when I’m two minutes late for shift or calling in from lunch, or if I don’t ticket a proportionate number of young females. Schaeffer even admits he does it to see me react, but—”

  “Okay. Enough. I declare a moratorium on anything other than happy thoughts.”

  God, he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, make passionate love to her.

  The waiter had cleared their plates when piano music began drifting through the restaurant, and a distant expression locked onto Colleen’s face.

  “You like the song?” Graham asked. He gazed at her, relaxed, her green eyes full of light instead of pain. “The Way You Look Tonight” suited the moment. He could see her like this forever.

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Huh? Oh, I hadn’t noticed. It’s the piano. Brought back some memories.”

  He waited.

  “One of the detectives in Pine Hills is a damn good piano player. Even better than whoever’s playing here.”

  And he wondered if she was running from that piano playing detective. Her expression told him she’d read his thoughts.

  “No, we didn’t have anything going,” she said. “After what you’ve said, maybe it’s not the same for you, but in Pine Hills, we were family. Relationships were more brother-sister. Besides, Randy—he’s the detective—is so into the job, I don’t think he was ever aware I was anything other than one of the guys. Not that it mattered, because he’s totally hung up on his girlfriend.”

  “I think I’m glad to hear it, but I can’t see you as one of the guys. Especially not tonight.” He pushed up his sleeve to check the time, hating for the evening to end. “It’s not too late, and there’s some wine left. Would you like to go to the lounge and finish it and listen to the music?”

  She grinned. “If you’ll help me out of this pit.” She held out her hand.

  He took it in his, noticed the short, unpainted nails. Not long, not artificial. When she gripped his to pull herself up, her hands were strong. But soft. He imagined them on his body and tried to repress his immediate reaction. Looking around, he caught the waiter’s eye and indicated they’d be in the lounge.

  They walked through the restaurant, and she didn’t drop his hand. Although there were some people watching the television above the bar, the seating area around the piano was empty. Four easy chairs, two love seats. She seemed willing to let him choose, and he guided her to one of the love seats. The pianist flashed a quick smile of welcome. The waiter brought the wine bottle and topped off their glasses.

  Easy listening was the right term for this set. Everything inside him seemed to relax. Well, there was one exception, but there wasn’t much Graham could do about it. Colleen sat with him in undemanding silence, and when he put his arm around her shoulders, she didn’t object. In fact, she rested her head on his chest and he pulled her closer.

  Time stood still. The check appeared. He completed the credit card ritual almost without conscious thought. All memories of the investigation, the recently consumed meal, even glimpses of the Magic game on the bar television, ceased to exist. There was nothing beyond this moment. Nothing but Colleen, and soft music, and her fresh citrus scent. Eventually the wine was finished, the pianist was on a break, and she leaned away.

  “You’re on duty tomorrow, aren’t you?” Her voice came from someplace far away.

  He forced himself back. “You’re right. We should go. I still have a couple of phone calls to make.”

  Graham stood and helped her from the couch. He dropped a five dollar bill into the jar on the piano and guided Colleen to the exit. Continuing his chivalry routine, he helped Colleen into the car for the short drive to her apartment. She leaned her head back against the seat and sighed.

  Fighting the urge to ask her what she was thinking, he spent the next few minutes wondering what she’d do when they got back to her apartment. This time, he drove all the way down the driveway. He walked around the car, helped her out, and escorted her to her front door. She leaned against it and gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes.

  “I had a good time, Graham. Thanks.”

  He sprang to immediate attention at the sound of his given name. He leaned forward and framed h
er face with his hands, pressing his lips against hers. She took the kiss and returned it tenfold, and he pulled her against him. Her body molded itself to his, and he probed deeper with his tongue. His hands cupped her buttocks, and she shifted her hips against him.

  He groaned deep in his throat. He had to leave now, or he wouldn’t be able to. And he wouldn’t ask for more. Not tonight. Not yet. Whether she’d believe him or not, he didn’t think of her like the other women he’d known.

  Slowly, they separated. Her breath came in short gasps. “I think I’d better get inside,” she said.

  “I think you’d better, too.” He took her face once more, running his thumbs down her cheeks, over her kiss-swollen lips. “I’ll call you, okay?” He forced himself to back away.

  “Okay.”

  His eyes lingered on her. She disappeared into her apartment, the door closing behind her. Thank goodness. Sweet Jesus, if she’d invited him in, he wouldn’t be able to say no.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Colleen stood inside the doorway, fingers pressed to her lips. She shoved aside that fluttery feeling that still lingered after his kiss. Their kiss. She’d been a willing and equal participant. She thought of the way he’d shared his doubts, insecurities, and frustrations. He deserved better.

  What the heck. It wasn’t like she could do anything with the information she’d acquired. She flung open the door and called after him. He stopped walking toward his Jeep and turned, a startled, then hesitant expression on his face.

  “I forgot to mention I found something interesting in Jeffrey’s office.”

  His hesitation vanished. Suddenly he was all cop. Harrigan, not Graham. “What?” He was practically on top of her.

  She paused, enjoying the upper hand. “I don’t know. My place is a total mess. Maybe tomorrow, after work?”

  “You didn’t mind a mess last night.”

  “Last night, the only thing lying around was fingerprint powder.” She tilted her head. “I suppose I could invite you in for coffee.”