One-Click Buy: February 2010 Harlequin Blaze

by Betina Krahn

  At least the paper only came out once every two weeks.

  Wincing as the station house door banged shut behind him, he crossed the blessedly empty lobby and saw Aqua already sitting at her desk, flipping through the ever-present fashion magazine. “Mornin’,” he said briefly as he passed her.

  “Glad you didn’t put a good in front of that greeting, boss.”

  He paused. “How is today already bad? It just started.”

  She tossed aside her magazine and held up a newspaper. “And it’s all downhill from here.”

  Squinting, he leaned toward her. The headline Serial Silver Stealer On The Loose blared from the front page. His stomach churned as he took the paper from her hand.

  “Say that three times fast,” she commented, obviously amused and annoyed at the same time.

  “What happened to the biweekly schedule?” he asked incredulously as he scanned down to his picture in his Navy dress whites.

  “They printed a special edition.”

  “How proactive.”

  His single quote—We’re using the full resources of the sheriff’s department in order to bring the perpetrators of these crimes to justice—was highlighted in a bold box of text. But the rest of the article was riddled with innuendos about his ability to replace the island’s beloved Sheriff Caldwell. The reporter even speculated that Tyler thought the job of sheriff was beneath him after all his glories and triumphs in the Marines.

  A moment of guilt moved within him as he read that. Maybe he did consider coming home a demotion, or at least a setback. Maybe he considered the case a distraction from his pursuit of Andrea.

  But that didn’t mean he wasn’t doing his best. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t solve the case or get the stolen items back or arrest the guilty party.

  He just might not do it with his whole heart.

  Tossing the paper back to Aqua, he turned toward the door. “I’ll be in the sheriff’s office.”

  “It’ll be yours soon,” she said casually, her attention already back on her magazine.

  “That’s looking less and less likely, but thanks for the support.”

  “I’m only supporting you ’cause you’re cuter than Lester, you know.”

  He was sure she was kidding. Well, pretty sure. “Gee, there’s something every town needs—a cute sheriff.”

  “Doesn’t hurt.” With a red marker, she circled something on her magazine. “Oh, and you have a visitor in your office.”

  Picturing reporters, Sister Mary Katherine and the stern leader of an island protest group all in one blink, Tyler ground to a halt. “Who?”

  “Telling would be ruining the surprise.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Go on. Don’t be a chicken.”

  “I’m not—” Setting his jaw, he shoved open the door to the hall. “If I don’t like this surprise, I’m kicking you and your magazines out on your asses.”

  She snorted. “Sure you will.”

  Determined not to delay the inevitable confrontation with his mystery guest, Tyler gulped coffee as he walked down the hall. As he rounded the doorway, he pulled off his sunglasses. “Look, I don’t know—”

  Certain he was hallucinating, he squeezed his eyes shut. Could sleep deprivation and a caffeine overdose cause delusions? He was sure there’d been some important information about those possibilities in his military training.

  “Hey there, Deputy.”

  He opened his eyes.

  Andrea Hastings was still there, sitting on the sheriff’s battered desk, her long, slender legs bare and perfect as they dangled over the edge. Wearing a white sundress and tiny pink sweater, he completely lost the power of speech as he entertained the fantasy of ripping that dress from her body and burying all his worries, confusion and uncertainty in her soft, welcoming body.

  Smiling, she held up the newspaper. “Thought you could use some help on this silver theft thing.”

  Sure he could. But the only nonsensual thought pounding through his brain was short and simple.

  Aqua was getting a raise.

  HE LOOKED TIRED.

  Some small part of Andrea wanted to be glad he was suffering, since she was, too. Not to mention Finn’s state of mind at the moment.

  But she couldn’t hold that petty thought for long. Someone with a thing for silver, or just things in general, was putting them through this mess. So she was firmly on the side of justice—and making sure her brother’s name was cleared in the process.

  “You’re here,” Tyler said, looking both pleased and shocked.

  “I’m a little surprised myself. I was going to e-mail the information I found out about Mrs. Jackson’s tea set.” She tossed the newspaper on the desk behind her. “Then I read that bunch of garbage by Jerry Mescle and decided to come right over.”

  “Oh.”

  The expression of longing on his face made her shift nervously. “He—Jerry Mescle, that is—went off to Hollywood to make documentaries, if you remember, but he came back almost immediately to write for the Herald. He thought everybody in California was fake. Can you imagine?”

  Tyler set his travel coffee mug on the filing cabinet by the door, then took a step toward her. “He never did like me.”

  “Jerry Mescle never liked anybody. And nobody liked him right back. Even geeks like me avoided him.”

  Tyler closed the distance between them, stopping so close she had to drop her head back to meet his gaze. “You weren’t a geek,” he told her.

  “Sure I was.” Trying to ignore the flutter of nerves, she smiled. “And damn proud of it. We rule the world, you know.”

  “I know. Us jocks just defend it.”

  “And look really good doing it.”

  He inched even closer, and her heartbeat sped up. “It’s the uniform.”

  She swallowed. “No, I really don’t think it is.”

  Reaching out, he cupped her jaw in his palm. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

  As he leaned down, clearly intent on kissing her, she leaped off the desk and darted away from him. “I think maybe we should keep things, you know, professional between us.”

  “You think maybe you know?” His lips turned up, he raised his eyebrows. “Since you’re so decisive, you mind telling me why?”

  Because I like you too much.

  Since there was no way she was admitting that, she cleared her throat. “We’re standing on opposites sides of this issue. You want to arrest my brother and I—”

  “Okay, I followed him last night because that’s my job, and if you have to know, I hated doing it, because I knew it would hurt you, but I’m…” He paused. Obviously he’d noted the shocked expression on her face. “You don’t know anything about last night.”

  She glared at him. “Well, goodness, no, Lieutenant,” she said in a deliberately sweet tone that contradicted her disappointment. “I’d love to hear all about it, though.”

  So he told her. The description of Finn recognizing the tail and coming up behind Tyler drained her anger. This case was testing everybody’s patience and sense of duty. She wasn’t sure how much she could trust Tyler with her heart, but she had confidence he’d do what was right otherwise.

  “I think we can both agree that I don’t want to arrest your brother,” he included. “I’ll arrest him only if the evidence warrants me doing so.”

  “You won’t find the evidence.”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

  She shook her head. “It’s more than that. You suspect him. I don’t want him to be suspected. We both need to be objective and fair while we find the truth.”

  “I agree.”

  You do? Just like that he was fine with keeping his distance? Was she so easily dismissed? Didn’t he think the heat between them was, well…hot? Then again, wasn’t that what she wanted? Didn’t they need to slow down? Didn’t they need to reevaluate just how—

  He startled her from her internal argument by wrapping his arms around her waist. “I can be objective and fair on
the case and still touch you as often and as thoroughly as possible every single second I’m not working on the objective and fair resolution of our mutual problem.”

  That was some reevaluation.

  “Okay,” she said, off balance both mentally and physically.

  He kissed her cheek, nuzzled down her neck. “Okay, you agree I can be objective, or okay you’re going to help me solve this case?”

  “Ah, well…” Dear heaven, he had amazing lips. Ripples of sensual awareness flowed down her spine, pooling between her legs. “Both, I guess.”

  She could feel his smile against her skin. “Remind me to have every serious discussion with you just like this.”

  “Mmm…okay.”

  His lips found his way to hers. He nibbled, then ran his tongue slowly, inch by inch, along her lower lip. His scent was all spicy male, and he tasted even better.

  Hold on. Serious discussion?

  “Back up, buster.” She waggled her finger. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. We do need to have a serious discussion about this case—mainly how to keep my brother out of jail.”

  All innocence, he extended his arms. “I’m ready when you are.”

  “Then sit there.” She pointed behind the sheriff’s desk. When he’d safely moved behind that solid piece of oak, she slid into the visitor’s chair on the opposite side. “So, about the Jackson tea set. My contacts haven’t seen or heard anything about the tea set so far. They promised to discreetly ask around.”

  He frowned. “These are your criminal contacts?”

  “They prefer the term alternative-income architects.”

  “I bet they do. Discreet, huh? I don’t want the thief scared off.”

  “Did I mention these guys are never caught?”

  “I think you did.”

  “Don’t you think it’s significant that the tea set hasn’t shown up anywhere? Why steal something valuable, then not attempt to make a profit?”

  “Maybe the thief is laying low, waiting for time to pass.”

  “If he wanted to pull off a low-key crime, he picked a lousy victim and item to steal.”

  “Exactly. This goes back to my theory about an unsophisticated thief, one unfamiliar with the value of the items he’s taken.”

  Unsophisticated like a kid. Like Finn, she thought, but didn’t say. Even if Finn was considered young in years, his time in prison had aged him, hardened him and certainly made him smarter than this silver-stealing fool. “Or one whose motive isn’t the theft at all.”

  He looked justifiably confused. “A thief’s motive is usually to steal something.”

  Glad she could finally lead him to her theory, she leaned forward. “How badly does Lester Cradock want to win this election?”

  “Lester?” Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “Nobody takes him seriously. He takes himself very seriously. What does he have to do with—” He stopped, then shook his head as her implication apparently occurred to him. “Lester didn’t steal anything. He’s an activist, not a thief.”

  “Never seen an activist arrested, have you?”

  “Sure. For their cause. Trophies and tea sets aren’t his cause.”

  “But winning this election is. These thefts are casting you in a bad light. Are you trying to tell me you aren’t worried? If you don’t solve these crimes by election day, which is less than two weeks from today, you think you’ll still be sheriff? Don’t you think the timing is significant?”

  “Of course I’m concerned,” he said, his tone casual, even though his eyes were dark with focused intensity. “I want people to have confidence in me and believe I can assume Sheriff Caldwell’s place. But I’m definitely not worried about Lester.”

  “Why not?”

  “He doesn’t really want to get elected. He just wants his ideas to be heard. Kind of like the third- or fourth-party candidate in a presidential election.”

  “Are you willing to stake the outcome of this case on that assumption?”

  “Are you reaching for any suspect to move suspicion off your brother?”

  “No.” But that was a pretty good strategy, come to think of it. “I want this over.”

  “I do, too. But I have to investigate with an even hand. I have to explore every possibility.”

  “This is a possibility.”

  “Technically, so is your brother.”

  “So we’re still standing on opposite sides.”

  “We don’t have to.”

  She looked away. “It sure feels like it.”

  And this, this right here, was the problem with one-night stands, getting close too early, having sex and not a relationship. They had heat and chemistry and fun, but no true trust. He was her fantasy; she was his fascination. Beyond that, they had no history to build on.

  Did she even want to build?

  He meant too much—to her past and present. But the future was murky.

  She knew Sloan would tell her to just go for it, to enjoy and not worry about tomorrow. Andrea, though, had spent most of her life involved in insurance. Worrying about tomorrow was her business.

  And yet her passion and emotions were mired in the past.

  If there was any hope of holding on to the wonder and thrill she felt only when she and Tyler were together, they had to find a way to breach their trust issues outside the case.

  “We’ll figure it out together,” Tyler said quietly. “Your brains and my badge?”

  Hope punched through her spirits. “I can’t think of a better combination.”

  9

  “SO WHAT DID YOU think of the speech?”

  Sitting by the fire in the Dolphin Club’s den, Andrea glanced over at the familiar voice, the words delivered in a husky tone as warm as the flames beside her.

  Tyler walked toward her. He was wearing his khaki sheriff’s department uniform, a sight she’d never failed to appreciate.

  She rose, a bit unsteady, still holding a glass of deep red wine somebody had handed her during the after-dinner speech. The blaze in the stone-covered hearth fought off the unexpected late-October chill that had been in the air all afternoon.

  A chill that fled the closer he came—and had nothing to do with the fire.

  She was at full-fledged war with herself about him. She wanted him, yet she feared the feelings he inspired. “You want some wine?” she asked, extending her glass.

  “I bet the Dolphins have some whiskey stocked around here.”

  He strode toward the far side of the room, which was filled with old books, dark woods and antique bowls and vases. They were surprisingly alone in the cozy room, though she could hear voices from the party in the grand hall next door.

  The Dolphins had class and style, like an old English gentleman’s club. They also, apparently, had whiskey, since Tyler came back with a heavy crystal tumbler containing a small measure of amber liquid.

  “Your speech was wonderful,” she said, raising her own glass in a toast.

  He tapped his glass against hers, and the crystal sang. “You were the inspiration.”

  He’d talked about second chances and second glances. And while at first she’d thought he was talking about people like Finn, she realized quickly his heart had been talking to her.

  His bright, blue gaze fixed on her face, he glided his hand down her arm and grasped her hand. “You want to sit?”

  Resting beside him on the sofa, she sipped her wine and watched the fire. After all the turmoil over the last couple of days, it was nice to simply sit with him and know they had a common goal. To know that he respected, admired and desired her. There was a time in her life when she wouldn’t have dreamed for more.

  Still, there was so much unsettled between them—her London trip, his election, the past and her insecurities.

  A wily silver thief.

  Staring into his glass, he slid his thumb along the back of her hand. “I’m not big on commitment.”

  “That’s not true. You served your country. You’ve come home to serve your commu
nity. That sounds like commitment to me.”

  He sipped his drink. “I’ve made mistakes, and my track record with relationships isn’t very good.”

  “Mine, either.” Deep down she knew she didn’t want to gamble her heart. Opening her feelings the way she had to Tyler when she was so young and having nothing—not even a decent kiss—to show for it had hardened her. She tried to pass off her own history with a shrug. “I get bored with relationships, or I don’t even start them. My work was my life until I came home to watch over Finn.”

  “And why’d you do that?”

  “Come home? He needed me. Why did you come back?”

  “I needed it.”

  Not for the first time, Andrea sensed there was a great deal more to Tyler’s early retirement than he’d said. Family and duty. “Did something happen?”

  “I made a mistake. A job-related one,” he clarified.

  “That can be pretty serious if you’re a Marine.”

  “Yes, it can.” Regret filled his eyes when he turned toward her. “I thought we were talking about us.”

  “We will. This is more important right now.”

  He said nothing for a long moment. “I’m not what I seem.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I’ve killed.”

  “You were in the military for—”

  He shook his head, stopping her. “That’s not what I mean. My mistakes killed people.”

  He was serious—deadly serious to make a bad pun. Still, imagining Tyler doing something wrong didn’t compute in her world. “How?”

  “I—” He set down his whiskey glass on the mahogany table in front of them and rose, then walked toward the fire. “It’s over. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  Heart pounding, she followed him. “You can still tell me.”

  “I can’t. You expect the best, just like my family.”

  “I expect you to be you, and you are the best.” When he started to interrupt, she laid her hand on his arm and added, “No matter what mistakes you’ve made.”

  He remained rigid beside her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Andrea wanted to push. She wanted to know what had turned this fun-loving, charming guy dark and agonized. Yet she sensed she’d hit a wall. Finding a door—or at least a window—would require her to share part of herself. How could she expect him to divulge intimate details of his life when they shared nothing but their bodies? To reach him, she had to risk the heart she was so determined to protect.