by Marie Jermy
It was while Jess had been telling him some wicked and highly amusing stories regarding Frank Walsh—Nick made a point of remembering them so to rib Walsh about them when he returned to LA—that Chief Peter Connors had telephoned, explaining he had hurt his back and would like Nick, seeing he was a detective, to stand in for him as temporary chief until he returned. Two weeks at the most, Connors had said.
Two weeks was a long time, and Nick just knew he’d be stepping on someone’s toes. So what if he was a detective? Surely there was another officer at the station, regardless of rank, who was more qualified than he, since they knew the area and the people? Nick finished his chocolate, tossed the wrapper in the trash can under the desk, and scratched his head, reminding himself he needed a haircut. He’d had a shave that morning.
“Who the hell are you and what do you think you’re doing?”
At the soft yet sharp feminine voice, Nick looked up and felt the room sway, despite the fact he was seated. Simply gawking, his pulse thundered in his ears, while a bank of warmth spread through his stomach, furling upward to his chest and enveloping the part of his heart not occupied by Steve. Standing in the doorway was an angel. Well, an angel in uniform anyway.
Average in height and weight—though Nick sensed this angel could kick ass when required—the woman possessed hair the color of spun gold, which fell loose and free, brushing the top of the her lapels. He swept a quick glance down, concluding by the time he reached her boots that he’d never seen such a crease-free uniform. He seriously wondered if she kept an iron at hand.
Despite the chill in the air, her face bore the fading shade of a decent tan, suggesting she preferred the outdoors to the fluorescent strip lights of an office. Framed by long, luscious lashes, her catlike aquamarine eyes were as cool as they were warm. Her mouth was set in a grim line, but he could see her bottom lip was fuller, pink and dewy. He wanted to nibble on it. His own mouth then went bone-dry at the image of what her mouth could do to the part of his anatomy stretching his pants zipper. His cock had swelled and hardened to iron bar proportions, so he was thankful he was sitting down.
“I’ll ask again.” The hand tightened its grip on the weapon holstered at the woman’s hips. “Who the hell are you and what do you think you’re doing?” Her tone was sharper still.
He liked the woman’s stance. She was defiant, yet possessed enough decorum to show respect for a higher ranking officer, albeit a total stranger. “Who are you?” Nick asked his own question.
“Officer Jezebel Sucre.”
Nick felt the smile curling his lips but managed to swallow the laugh. An angel called Jezebel. Who knew? “I’m Detective Nick North on transfer from LAPD. And as from last night, temporary chief.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What happened to Chief Connors?”
“Apparently he hurt his back when he fell out of bed.”
“Whose bed?”
Nick wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. “Excuse me?”
“Never mind.” She loosened the grip on the butt of her service gun and stretched out a hand. “Welcome to Silver Creek, er, Sir. It’s nice to meet you. The chief told us—that’s myself and Officer George Sanders—you were coming. Just a surprise to find you’re temporary chief.”
Nick clasped Jezebel’s hand in his. Her grip was strong and he tried to resist imagining that same grip around his cock. He also tried to resist running his thumb over the smooth skin. Steve, he knew, would find this woman as desirable as he did. “You and me both. And I apologize if I’m stepping on anybody’s toes.” He swallowed a groan when her smile lit up her face and the warmth to her eyes shot spikes of desire to his already hard cock. Fuck, with no files in the trays to shield him, how could he stand up without her noticing his predicament?
Between him and Steve, he was the serious one, the intense one. He kept his emotions in check, his feet planted firmly on the ground. He also had more control of his cock. Yet in ten seconds, Jezebel had completely and utterly unbalanced him. It was unnerving.
“No toes stepped on.”
Her smile turned brittle, and Nick just knew she was not being truthful. “Is that so?” Her mouth dropped into a slight grimace. She muttered something unintelligible and seemed to be weighing up what to say. “Tell me. Animosity leads to mistakes. And I don’t make mistakes.” He reasoned almost being strawberry-jammed by a Chevy didn’t constitute as a mistake.
She uttered an audible sigh before speaking. “Okay. My toes are unharmed, but George is going to be a different story. He’s going to be furious.” She frowned. “I have to be honest here. I don’t think George was too impressed when he heard you were coming. He transferred from the LVMPD—Vegas Metro—after Matt left, about a year ago now...”
“Matt Anderson?” he said over talking. “Ross and Jess’s son? I’m staying with Ross and Jess for the six months I’m here,” Nick further explained at Jezebel’s puzzled expression.
Ross and Jess had also extended their invitation after hearing about Steve. He’d tried to negotiate rent terms for him and Steve—at that time he was graciously staying buck-free—and still would be as they’d waved away his protests, telling him not to insult them again. He thanked them both and they then showed him to the guest room. Either the Andersons were damned perceptive or he’d given something away when talking about Steve because occupying the room was a king-sized bed. They also wished him and Steve well and hoped they enjoyed their time together in Silver Creek.
He liked them even more for their open-mindedness. He just hoped the rest of Silver Creek’s residents were as unbiased as the Andersons.
“Oh, I see.”
The sound of Jezebel’s voice and the following deep breath brought Nick back, and his eyes went straight to her breasts. Small and perfectly round, he could image burying his face between her tits and tonguing the silky valley he knew he’d find. He felt something thick ooze from the tip of his cock at the thought of Steve watching him licking and playing with Jezebel’s breasts, then doing the same to the succulent spot between her legs.
Would she be interested in a male-male-female ménage relationship? Would it turn her on or sicken her to watch two men make love? Should he and Steve even consider getting involved with a fellow officer? They’d never done so before. In fact, they’d shied away from dating anybody in the PD, cops or civilians. There wasn’t a particular reason for that, either. He and Steve just reckoned if things did go wrong with the ménage relationship, they were adults and sensible enough to sort it out amicably between themselves.
Jezebel’s eyes then narrowed as if she knew exactly the sinful thoughts chasing through his head. Shit, he wouldn’t be surprised if she slapped him. He mentally slapped himself and refocused on her face.
She continued once he met her eyes. “As soon as George walked in the door, he decided he was second-in-command.” She paused as if hesitant about what to say next.
Nick began to suspect he wasn’t going to like this George Sanders. “Go on.”
“It’s just that, um, well, he wasn’t happy about a detective coming here. I think he’s worried you’ll show him up or something. And now you’re going to be our superior officer…Well, as I said, he’s going to be furious that he wasn’t made chief. Um, how long will you be in temporary charge?”
“Connors said about two weeks.”
She nodded, but said nothing further. Nick didn’t push her. “Thanks for the warning, Jezebel.”
“Oh, call me Jez. Everybody else does.”
“Jez.” He liked the sound of her name on his tongue. Steve would, too, he could guarantee it. He indicated the empty trays while she quickly and expertly twisted her golden hair into a chignon. He just wanted to take it down again. “Any crimes to investigate?”
Her smile was a little on the sheepish side. “A parking violation. And the fine’s already been paid.”
Astonished, he repeated her words, adding, “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No. During the winter mon
ths, we don’t get much crime. The odd drink-fueled incident is about it. Oh, and there’s always something going on between Dave Thacker at the B and B, and Phil Harrison, the owner of the Slumberland Hotel just around the corner on First Street. They’re the best of friends, but the worst of enemies. Would you like to meet them?”
Nick thought that was an excellent idea. He liked getting the feel of a place, and meeting the residents of Silver Creek was a good way of doing that. “Yes. When will Sanders get here?”
“George will be on duty again tonight. Did Chief Connors tell you about our duties system?”
Again? Nick took the notes from his shirt pocket that he’d written when Connors had called. “You each work twelve-hour shifts, either starting at eight a.m. or eight p.m. Four days on, three days off. Officers from Butte cover your rest days, holidays, sick days et cetera. Chief Connors usually works ten hours every day, but on occasions he works nights.” He replaced the paper into his pocket. “Where are we now?”
“This is my first of the days. The first of George’s nights is this evening, but he worked last night as an extra shift. If that makes sense. He said it was a favor to Ire Hagen, the officer who should have been covering for us. I believe they swapped shifts awhile back when Ire needed to take some time off.”
“Why wasn’t Sanders here when I came in?”
“He more than likely went straight home. I did tell him I was going to be in early.”
Or since I might show him up, he didn’t want to meet me yet. “Okay.” He ran a hand through his hair, reminding him he needed a haircut. “I’ll work the same as the chief whilst he’s on sick leave. When he returns, I haven’t got a clue. I don’t see how three officers can fit into two twelve-hour shifts. Do you?”
Jez’s lips turned up at the corners. “When Matt was here, we worked ten-hour shifts with officers from Butte filling in for the other two hours. But as soon as George arrived, the chief changed our shift patterns. I have an idea he’s not too keen on George, either. So, where would you like to start your tour, Sir?”
His cock twitched excitedly at the address. Jeez, the way her mouth had dropped that “sir” conjured up all sorts of steamy fucking scenarios, with anal sex predominately featuring. He loved a woman’s ass as much as he liked pussy. Nick liked it more when he watched their woman sucking on Steve’s prick while he fucked her ass. He knew Steve did, too, particularly when the roles were reversed with Nick receiving the blowjob and Steve had his cock buried in their woman’s ass.
Another drop of pre-cum wet his boxers. He had to get a grip and regroup. Finding an escape route to cool the burning sensations running amok through his body was probably another excellent idea. He willed his cock down. Thankfully it softened to the degree where he could leave with some decency intact. He touched his hair. “Guess.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you at CC’s Coffee Shop in half an hour, Sir. That’s where Thacker and Harrison will be.”
Nick didn’t hear the last part.
Chapter 5
Jez Sucre had never seen anybody move as quick as Nick North. Immediately after implying he was going to pay Curls & Pearls, Emily Coy’s hair and beauty salon, a visit and her telling him she’d meet him at CC’s in thirty minutes, he was out of his seat and swiftly marching out of the office as if his butt was on fire.
She sighed. Nick’s butt was hot! She made her way to her desk by the large window at the front of the station and was just in time to see that hot butt entering the salon. Lucky Emily Coy getting her hands on what must be the hunkiest of hunks this side of the South Pole. The way his unruly raven hair curled and kinked below his uniform shirt collar had given him a wild look, like that of an animal, a wolf maybe. His cheekbones were high and razor-sharp, his lips a thin but passionate line. And those deep blue eyes. Damn, a shade past midnight, Nick’s eyes were so intense they lit up the world like the Fourth of July.
Jez picked up the parking violation and fanned herself with it. The weather outside was frigging freezing, but summer had arrived in Silver Creek. If Emily Coy wasn’t so interested in John Stanford, Jez would bet Emily would be a puddle of cum on the salon floor at the sight of Nick. She knew she was. Her panties were so wet with juice, it would take them more than a fortnight to dry out.
Still fanning, she cupped her chin in her free hand, her elbow on the desk. And then she remembered. She’d gotten really turned on by the six feet tall Nick. His dark navy uniform had encased a body built like a warrior of long ago. The fabric had been stretched around his powerful biceps and arms, and she was sure the buttons down his chest were at popping point. His equipment belt circled a lean waist and hips before flaring into that hot butt and his cotton-cased muscular thighs. She didn’t doubt the rest of his legs were as buff.
Judging by the way she’d caught Nick eyeing her breasts, he’d probably been turned on by her, too. But she doubted he’d go any further once he’d found out about her. Only Emily Coy knew her secret. Oh, she’d told her last boyfriend when things turned serious between them. He hadn’t balked at the fact she had polycystic ovarian syndrome, he’d been quite supportive actually. However, as soon as he heard about the excess hair, he’d run a mile. Who’d want a woman who shaved like a man in the mornings? That had been three years ago and she hadn’t gotten close to another man since. In fact, there hadn’t even been a whiff of one.
Polycystic ovarian syndrome or PCOS as it’s known was more common than people realized, but it was not a subject frequently talked about. In fact, PCOS could be considered taboo. Most of the symptoms she could deal with. She was lucky enough to be slim, though she did watch her weight. Nor did she suffer from acne. The possibility of infertility wasn’t a problem at that time, if indeed it ever became one. Irregular periods were made regular by taking the pill. The contraceptive even helped with the excess hair, but not enough. She paid monthly visits to Emily’s salon for laser treatment, which was costly and, at times, painful. There had been remarkable success on her upper arms, shoulders, and back, but not her face. So she shaved. It shattered her confidence and was a huge blow to her femininity. She didn’t feel like a woman, she felt more like a hairy monkey.
Jez placed the paid parking violation into her otherwise empty “out” tray. Staring out of the window, she watched a group of tourists, their faces red from the bitter wind, as they scurried down Main Street, no doubt heading for CC’s Coffee Shop for a mug of something warm. She knew they were visiting and touring the area because she’d seen them outside Denham’s Outfitters with Will Denham, the owner, discussing trips. The town’s lack of crime wouldn’t be good for someone like Nick. He was a detective from Los Angeles. He dealt with crime every day. He was going to be bored rigid.
However, she had a feeling that life was about to get a lot more interesting.
With a glance at the time, she reached for a pen and scribbled a note. She tore a strip of sticky tape from the dispenser. Then grabbing the station’s phone, she went over and retrieved her hat and jacket from the hooks near the door. She taped the note to the door, locked it, and wandered down the street, pulling the collar of her jacket up around her face when a particularly nasty gust blew across her. She hoped Nick had brought a warm coat, otherwise he’d be rattling like the ice cubes in a tall glass of iced tea, as well as bored rigid.
Upon entering CC’s Coffee Shop, she bagged one of the tables by the window and sat so she faced the counter. Charlotte Coy, Emily’s mother and owner of the shop, immediately greeted her. Mother and daughter were more like sisters with their dainty figures, sparkling blue eyes, and chin-length rich brown curls. Though she suspected Charlotte’s brown curls were dyed.
“Morning, Jez. Usual?” Charlotte enquired, her voice as warm as the beverages she sold.
Jez nodded and looked up as the brass bell above the door jingled, signaling the arrival of another customer. She felt the air leave her lungs. Sweet heaven, Emily had done a terrific job on Nick. His hair was now layered and short and highlighted h
is already sharp cheekbones. Surely they would slice paper? He glanced around, spotted her, and within two long strides reached the table. Charlotte’s mouth went slack as she eyed Nick with interest. Jez smothered a smile. “Please, and whatever the temporary chief is having.”
Nick introduced himself. “Detective—no, temporary chief Nick North. Hot chocolate, thank you.”
“With pleasure.”
Jez half snorted half coughed, and Charlotte disappeared around the counter to fix their order.
“She looks a lot like the woman who just cut my hair, only older,” Nick commented, taking a seat opposite her, facing the window. He stretched his legs out in front of him while resting his back against the comfortable cushions of the chair.
“That’s because Charlotte Coy, who owns this place, is Emily’s mother.”
“Ah. CC’s. I get it.”
He swiveled slightly in his seat and slowly eyed the shop, taking in the red-and-white gingham cloths adorning the tables and the plush red sofa in a secluded alcove at the rear that afforded a more intimate and cozy seating arrangement. The group of tourists was sitting there and really she couldn’t thank them enough. Getting intimate and cozy with Nick was so not a good idea. Well, it was, but it was one she felt she would never get to experience.
Nick’s gaze flicked to the glass-fronted display cabinet of every delicious, homemade sweet and savory pastry known to both woman and man. Jez was sure he licked his lips. She was positively drooling. Not at the chocolate cake, though. Her gaze was well and truly stuck on Nick.
On the wall behind the counter was a large blackboard where written in neat, permanent calligraphy was the vast array of beverages that Charlotte offered. There was another smaller blackboard nearby where Charlotte wrote the daily specials on. He lastly eyed the customers present. Finally, he said, “Interesting crowd. Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy.”
