by Susan Fox
“I’m feeling a little . . .” She paused, not wanting to use the word manic. It wasn’t exactly right. “On edge. Excited, wound up. I’m afraid I may be cycling.”
“You’re taking your lithium regularly?”
“Of course.”
“You haven’t been manic in four years. We checked your lithium level last week and it was fine.”
“I know.”
“So, you’re feeling excited and wound up. Anything special happening in your life?”
She gave a nervous laugh. What would he say if she told him the truth? “Jessica’s pregnant, which is a thrill. As well as a worry, of course.” When Jess and Evan had talked about having children, the whole family had sat down with Dr. Allenby to discuss the chance of the baby having bipolar disorder.
“Babies never come with guarantees,” the doctor said now. “Concentrate on being happy, rather than on worrying.”
“I’m trying. Also, I have a cousin—I haven’t seen him in years—coming to town this afternoon for a visit.”
“And that’s exciting too. You’re looking forward to seeing him, but nervous. Brooke, it’s all right to have feelings. You don’t want to be emotionally dead.”
No, but she’d been careful not to involve herself in emotional situations. Until Evan returned to town, the most emotion she’d experienced was pleasure that a bride’s hairstyle turned out perfectly, or enjoyment at having Sunny’s company on a cold, snowy night.
“We’ve talked about this,” Dr. Allenby said. “Normal people have highs and lows, and so will you, even on lithium. Like when your son returned to town, and when he and Jess got hitched.”
True, but then her primary emotion had been delight. Although it was also true that she’d been on edge about attending the wedding when the whole town knew her and Evan’s history.
“Seems to me this might just be a stressful, exciting time in your life,” the doctor was saying.
She chuckled. “It definitely is. So, you think it’s normal, what I’m feeling?”
“When my wife and I heard that our first grandchild was on the way, you’d have sworn we were manic. We rushed off to Williams Lake and maxed our charge cards buying clothes and games and toys.”
It was difficult to imagine the mellow Dr. Allenby dashing around like a besotted granddad, but he was an honest man so she believed him. As usual, he’d made her feel better.
“Want to come in and talk some more?” he asked. “I’ll test your lithium level again, if you want, but I really think it’s just excitement.”
“I think you’re right. You’ve helped, by normalizing what I’m feeling. You’re my reality check, Dr. Allenby.”
“Call me anytime. Or make an appointment and we’ll have a nice long talk.”
When she returned to check Mrs. Battison’s perm, Brooke smiled at the elderly lady. “Guess what? My daughter-in-law’s pregnant! Isn’t that the most exciting news?”
“Oh my, dear, that’s wonderful. You must be thrilled.”
Thrilled. Yes, she was. By Jess’s pregnancy and also by having spent a wild and wicked night with Jake. She was entitled to be thrilled. Dr. Allenby had given her permission. No, more importantly, she’d given herself permission.
After they’d talked about the baby, she told Mrs. Battison about Cousin Arnold. As she did, she realized something ironic. A policeman was using her, Brooke Kincaid, to create a cover story of respectability. How far she’d come in the last five years!
Chapter Eleven
When Brooke called to say she’d pick him up in fifteen minutes, Jake changed into the gray suit. He couldn’t bring himself to button the shirt at the neck. Reluctantly, he folded a tie and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. He figured Arnold for a guy who’d choose formal when making a first impression.
Hungry, he made a couple of peanut butter and jam sandwiches and ate them standing up. Then he made one for Brooke and wrapped it in waxed paper. She needed regular meals; he’d learned that fact from his research on bipolar disorder.
When he put the ingredients back in the fridge, his eyes lit on last night’s apple crisp and he couldn’t resist. He hauled out the casserole dish, whipped off the lid, and dug a spoon into the contents. The stuff tasted just as good cold, without ice cream, as it had last night. He took another spoonful.
A car crunched down the driveway and he hurried into the living room to make sure it was Brooke. She slid out from behind the steering wheel and walked toward the house, her legs long and bare and shapely under a casual skirt. She climbed the front steps and he opened the door.
“Great legs,” he commented.
“As I recall, yours aren’t so bad either.”
He slammed the door shut, then caught her in his arms and kissed her with a morning worth’s pent-up horniness.
She pressed her body against his and responded wholeheartedly.
Man, she was something. Once she’d finally overcome whatever scruples were holding her back, she was the sexiest, most generous lover imaginable.
She pulled out of his arms, giving a shaky laugh. “Hold that thought, Jake.”
He grabbed her hand and pressed it against his fly. “I’d rather you held it.”
Her blue-green eyes sparkled up at him. “Later. I promise. You have to meet Jamal, and I have a client at one-thirty.”
He groaned resignedly. “Oh, before we go, I made you a sandwich.”
“You did?”
“Thought you might not have time to get lunch.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you, Jake.” She headed for the kitchen and he followed. She saw the apple crisp casserole on the counter, and lifted the spoon out of it. She raised an eyebrow in his direction.
Realizing what he had done, he said apologetically, “I should’ve dished it out into a bowl.”
“That would be the civilized way,” she agreed. She held the dish out to him. “Another bite before we go?”
After he ate a bit more he scooped up a small mouthful and held the spoon to her lips.
She paused only a moment before accepting. “Dessert before first course. You’re a bad influence.” She picked up the wrapped sandwich. “This is mine?”
“Peanut butter and jam. Nothing special. Hope it’s okay.” Now he almost wished he hadn’t done it. She was such a good cook, she probably never ate plain stuff like that.
But she was smiling. “Sounds great. Oh, and there are a couple of donuts in the car. If you aren’t full from the apple crisp.”
When they reached the front door, he checked to ensure the coast was clear. They hurried to her Corolla, where he hopped into the back and lay down on the seat so it would look like she was alone in the car. Thank God he didn’t get motion sickness. Bad enough that his healing wounds were throbbing.
She tossed the donut bag back to him and he bit into a jelly donut as she started down the road.
“I hope Sergeant Estevez can find Zephyr Lake,” she said. “It’s out of the way.”
“That’s the idea. Don’t want anyone seeing us. And don’t worry about him; the car will have GPS.”
“Teenagers hang out there at night in the summer, but during the day—especially this early in the year—there shouldn’t be anyone there.” Sounding nervous, she’d been repeating information they’d already gone over, but now she added a new bit. “Evan proposed to Jessica there.”
He finished the donut. “Yeah?” Taking another donut from the bag, he said, “Want a bite?”
She glanced back. “Chocolate? I shouldn’t. I’ll get fat.”
“Not going to happen. Besides, if you do, I’ll just have to exercise it off you.”
If he twisted just right, he could peek between the two seats and see her arm, her denim-covered thigh, her bare knee. He watched her knee move up and down as she worked the gas pedal. “I’m going to stop somewhere and buy condoms,” he said.
Her shoulders shook. “Now there’s a plan. But don’t do it in Caribou Crossing or you’l
l really have people wondering about Arnold.”
“I’ll drive down the highway to the next town and find a drugstore there. Got a favorite brand?”
She spluttered with laughter. “You think I know the brands of condoms? Pick whatever you like best and I’m sure they’ll be just fine with me.” And then she gave a shiver, a big one that moved from her shoulders down through her whole body.
He knew exactly what she was thinking. “Tonight I’ll be inside you, Brooke.” And he was, yet again, hard.
After a few moments of silence she said, “Jake? I feel kind of . . . unbalanced with you. I told you the most intimate details of my life. It’s different from sex. Sex is intimate but it’s—well, for us, it’s about fun, right?”
“For sure.”
“And it’s mutual. But with the talking, it’s all been about me. I feel like we’re on an uneven footing. I’d like to know more about you. Not Arnold, but Jake.”
“What’s to know? I’m thirty-five, single, a U/C cop. My life’s pretty much about work, but that’s okay ’cause I love my job. There’s never—well, hardly ever—a dull moment.”
“You said you don’t have much time for relationships, other than casual ones.”
“Job keeps me busy.”
“You said your parents don’t like your job?”
“No. I haven’t seen them in a long time. They were disappointed with how I turned out.”
Her head swung toward him. “Disappointed?” She huffed. “I should think they’d be proud.”
He liked how she stuck up for him. “What does Evan do?” She’d already told him, but he had a point to make.
“He’s an investment counselor.”
“And Jessica has this riding camp she’s started?”
“Yes, and she’s wonderful at it.”
“How would you like it if one of them was an undercover cop? Investigating drug trafficking, gang wars? Or if that’s the career your grandkid chose?”
“I’d worry myself sick,” she said promptly. “But I wouldn’t be disappointed in them.” She braked and stopped, and the sound of traffic told him it was an intersection.
“Well, good for you. But my parents had other plans for me.” He gave a quick, humorless laugh. “Hell, even accounting wouldn’t have satisfied them. They wanted medicine or law.”
“What do they do?” She put the car in motion again.
He wished he could sit up and get his bearings. “Mom does charities. Cultural ones. Dad’s a lawyer. Corporate commercial. He makes a lot of money.”
“And that’s what they wanted for you?”
“Pretty much.”
“But you’re not that kind of man. I don’t imagine you were that kind of boy?”
“Nah. But they kept trying to make me into one. Respectable, boring. They didn’t see me. Didn’t want to see me. Didn’t care what I wanted.”
“I suspect that made you rebel.”
“Yup. I was hell-bent on getting away from them and being as different as I could possibly be.”
She nodded, and when she spoke her voice was sad. “Evan was like that, but for different reasons. His father and I were such losers. He knew he wanted a different life, and he had to get away to do it. He was driven. And he made it. Top of his class, a scholarship to Cornell.”
“As a Canadian?”
“Actually, he has dual citizenship. Even though I’m uncomfortable around the police, I went to them after Mo left and I told them everything. I guess they could have charged me for helping him conceal his identity, but they didn’t. And I did get back my own identity papers, and Evan’s. Proof that he was an American citizen.”
“You stayed Kincaid, though, rather than go back to McKeen or your maiden name?”
She shrugged. “It was easier. This way, only the police knew about Mo, not the whole town.” She made a turn and the car’s tires left pavement and hit a rougher surface. “This is the road to Zephyr Lake.”
He risked lifting his head, saw a narrow road with barely room for two cars to pass, meandering between two fenced acreages with cattle grazing.
Playing it safe, he ducked down again. “Why Cornell?”
“They had a program that interested him and it was close to New York City, where he wanted to end up. He said Manhattan was the hub of the world.” She gave a soft laugh. “Mo and Brooke’s son at Cornell. It’s just amazing. But that’s Evan. He can do anything if he sets his mind to it.”
She pulled to a stop. “Sergeant Estevez isn’t here yet. No one is, so you can come out.”
He extracted himself slowly and painfully from the backseat and stretched, making a careful survey of his surroundings. It was a pretty spot. A deep blue lake sparkled in the May sunshine. Scattered trees and rock formations lined it. He could imagine teenagers coming out here to talk, swim, drink some beer, smoke a little weed, make out.
Brooke opened the driver’s door to the fresh air, unwrapped her sandwich, and took a bite.
“Jamal will be here soon,” Jake said. “If you need to get back to work, just leave me here.”
She glanced at her watch. “No rush yet.”
He climbed into the passenger seat, figuring he could scrunch down out of sight if anyone else came along.
Brooke turned to study his face. “You and Evan and Anika all have something in common. You felt you had to escape your parents. Is that why you care so much about kids like Anika and Sapphire?”
He hadn’t thought of it that way. Musingly, he said, “I did leave home early. I was sick of my folks pushing me to be something I wasn’t.” He glanced at her pretty, concerned face and admitted, “I was a lot like Mo. A thrill seeker. Drove too fast, drank too much, did some drugs, hung out with a bad crowd. Lived on the edge. Worked at this and that.”
She frowned. “An odd path to lead to the RCMP.”
“Yeah, but I was lucky. Worked a construction job where the boss was engaged in human trafficking. The RCMP got a tip and investigated. I got talking to a couple of members about undercover work and decided to join up.”
“They took you? I mean, after the drugs and so on?”
“Not right away. These two guys kind of took me on, as a cause. Guess they saw some potential. You bet they made me clean up my act. Luckily, I’d never been busted so I didn’t have a criminal record. I went to Simon Fraser University, took the criminology program, did lots of volunteer work with high-risk kids, hooked my RCMP buddies up with a few informants.”
Brooke touched his arm. “You really did turn yourself around. Congratulations, Jake.”
“Ah hell, don’t give me too much credit. It was a kick, just a different kind.”
“Mmm. Once they’d accepted you, didn’t you say you and Jamal fast-tracked to get to undercover work?”
“You start out on general duty, but my U/C pals gave me some tips on how to move through the system.”
“How?” Her eyes were bright with interest, and he remembered those mystery novels on her shelves.
“Go to the U/C guys and volunteer your off-duty time. We helped with surveillance and drug busts, flipped a few sources. Kept working with high-risk kids; volunteered with the community policing centers. We proved we had what they wanted. Got references, commendations, wrote the undercover exam at five years.”
“Stayed away from drugs.”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Watched your drinking?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re not an alcoholic.”
He shook his head.
“But you know a lot about A.A. Like how we count sobriety in days, and about the five-year pin.”
He tried not to squirm. “You pick up a lot on the streets.”
She tilted her head and held his gaze. “It sounded like personal knowledge. Like someone close to you was an alcoholic. One of your parents?”
“No way.”
“Then . . .”
“It’s not for me to say. You know that.”
“Of cour
se.” She studied his face some more. “Jamal.”
“Shit, Brooke.” How in hell had she picked up on that?
“He’s the only person you talk about. It’s obvious you’re close.” She frowned slightly. “He is sober now, isn’t he?”
“Two years. But look, you can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t. Alcoholics don’t; you know that.”
He had trusted her with so many things already. He reached out and grasped her shoulder, feeling its firm strength. “Here’s the deal, Brooke. No one in the RCMP knows.”
She nodded slowly. “There’d be consequences, wouldn’t there?”
“They’d be wary about trusting him, especially with U/C work. There’s a lot of alcohol and drugs around when you work U/C.”
“Lots of temptation.” Her brow furrowed. “But it’s not fair. He’s sober.”
“That’s why I keep his secret. He’s not endangering anyone’s lives anymore.” Damn, his mouth kept running off when he was with this woman.
Of course she pounced on his words. “Anymore?”
He sighed. “We were working a long assignment together. I was undercover; he was my handler. I’d been on the street more than a year. That’s when I figured out he had a real problem. He wasn’t reliable anymore.”
The furrow deepened. “Your job is dangerous. You need someone you can trust absolutely. You didn’t report him?”
He shook his head vigorously. “We’d been together a long time. I said we don’t work with partners, but Jamal and I are close to that.”
“But . . . what did you do? Nothing?”
“Nah. Nothing’s not something I’m good at.”
A quick smile flashed. “I can believe that. So?”
“Soon as the assignment ended and we got a few weeks’ leave, I took him out of town and dragged him into A.A. meetings.”
“You can’t make an addict give up their addiction. They’ve got to want to.”
“He was sick of me bitching at him. He got off the booze so I’d get off his back.”
She shook her head. “I bet he realized that he’d let you down but you’d been there for him. That someone cared enough about him to try to help. I’d think that would be a good incentive.”
