F word? Surely he hadn’t said that. He retraced his thoughts. Shit! He had. How intimidating did that make him? Not intimidating at all.
He’d slipped because she was just a kid. He could only hope he never made the same careless mistake while he was interrogating a hardened criminal. Not that many resided in Hopeful. But still, he had a hard-fought-for reputation to maintain.
“How lame is it that you have a sewer mouth?” he asked.
She curled her upper lip. “You wouldn’t wash my mouth out with soap. I’d sue your butt for police harassment.”
“Darlin’, I don’t make threats I’m not prepared to carry out.” He eased back a little. “Look, I know you’re scared—”
“I’m not scared. I just want to go home.”
“Your sister should be here any minute.”
“She’s going to be so totally freaked out.”
“Does she ever hit you?” he asked.
She looked at him as though he’d just spoken in Klingon. “Of course not.”
“But she freaks out easily?”
“Wouldn’t you if the police called you at one o’clock in the morning to tell you that they’d arrested your kid?”
She wasn’t technically arrested, but he hadn’t informed her of that fact. Better to let her worry about the ramifications of her actions for a while.
“You should have thought of that before you went bar hopping,” he admonished.
“Bar hopping would imply there was more than one bar in this dump of a town.”
Ah, now he was getting somewhere. “So, you’re not impressed with Hopeful?”
“That’s some remarkable deducing there, Sherlock.”
Damn, but she made him want to smile. “How long have you been in our illustrious town?”
“Too long.”
“What’s your grade classification? Freshman? Sophomore?”
She heaved an exasperated sigh that indicated she wondered why she was even bothering to answer the moron sitting behind the desk. “Junior.”
“The Hornets kicked butt tonight,” he said, referring to the team’s 21-to-7 victory over their long-standing rivals, the neighboring Wildcats. What high school student didn’t get excited about football?
She scowled. “Why would I care?”
Okay. He should have guessed she’d be less than enthusiastic or impressed. “You didn’t go to the game?”
“Why would I? It’s not like I’ve got friends—”
The sharp rap on his door cut her off and made her flinch.
Mike Warner opened it and stuck his head inside the room. Mike, being the youngster he was, fresh out of the police academy, hadn’t been able to disguise his surprise when he’d seen Jack walking in with what looked to be an extraterrestrial in his custody. Even now, he stared at her as though he couldn’t quite believe she existed.
“Mike, you knocked for a reason?” Jack prodded.
Mike jerked his attention to Jack. “Right, Chief. Gardner’s sister is here.”
Although it was difficult to be a hundred percent sure, Jack thought his detainee paled beneath her thick layer of makeup. “Send her in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jack came to his feet, while the girl slouched lower in her chair. If not expressing remorse, at least she appeared to be embarrassed. Maybe there was hope for her yet.
He turned to the door as Mike moved back, and a young woman stepped into the room. Blond hair, green eyes, and a body that simply would not quit. Jack felt as though he’d taken a swift, brutal kick to the gut. Of all the police stations in all of Texas, why in the hell did she have to walk into his?
Especially with that just-crawled-out-of-bed look that made him want to tumble her back onto the rumpled sheets. She’d fueled his fantasies when he was nineteen. Hell, if he were honest with himself, she fueled them now.
“ Spencer?” he asked, reflexively reverting to the manner in which he’d addressed her for most of the time he’d known her.
She had that deer-in-the-headlights expression, her eyes reflecting confusion and disbelief. All the blood rapidly drained from her face as recognition dawned. She nodded jerkily. “Jack?”
“Oh, great,” Attitude muttered. “Another one of her former students.”
Oh, yeah, he was a former student, but she’d taught him far more outside the classroom than she ever had inside it. His senior year had been her first year to teach. She’d tried so damned hard to reach her students. With his bad-assed, take-no-prisoners attitude, he hadn’t made her job easy.
Maybe that was the reason he’d felt a connection to the girl at the bar. Nine years ago, he’d been exactly like her. With a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, he’d dared the world to call his bluffs.
Obviously disoriented, Spencer shifted her bewildered gaze between him and the girl, as though she recognized that she needed to deal with both of them but didn’t have the physical or emotional strength to deal with either of them.
“Mike?” he called out.
Mike poked his head back inside, his novice-cop gaze darting quickly around, trying to assess the situation. “Yeah, Chief?”
“Why don’t you take Gardner for a tour of the facilities, so she’ll understand exactly where she’ll spend the night if I catch her drinking again before she’s twenty-one?”
“Sure thing,” Mike said.
“Drinking?” Spencer asked at the same time. “Madison, tell me you weren’t drinking.”
“Okay. I wasn’t drinking.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I was just telling you what you told me to tell you.”
Spencer shook her head, her expression one of surrender, as though she’d suddenly discovered her entire arsenal had been spirited away.
Jack gave a pointed glare at the little felon. “Go with Officer Mike, and leave your car keys with me.”
“Why the fu—” he glowered ominously at her—“fu-fudge do I have to do that?” she demanded.
“The main reason is that I told you to. The other, less important reason, is so I can pick up your car from the Sit ’n’ Bull and drive it home for you.”
“I can drive it home.”
He shook his head. “Not on my watch. I’m releasing you into Spencer’s custody, which means she’ll drive you home.”
“You’re such a hard-ass.”
“Darlin’, you’ve got no idea. Now, go with Officer Mike while I discuss the terms of your release with your guardian.”
Slinging her keys onto his desk, she sashayed toward the door.
As though in a trance, Spencer put her hand on the girl’s arm. “Why are you doing this? Why are you making everything so difficult?”
“Why shouldn’t I? Not everyone is Goody Two-Shoes like you. Besides, it’s what you expect, isn’t it? I can’t even breathe without asking permission. You’re not my mother. I wish you’d quit trying to act like one, because you’re lousy at it.”
Spencer looked as though she’d just been the victim of a hit-and-run. He was tempted to grab his detainee and teach her some manners, but family counseling wasn’t within his jurisdiction unless the in-fractions turned criminal. Jerking free of her sister’s hold, the girl stomped from the room.
Spencer simply stood there, watching her sister go, as though she’d fought one too many battles with the little hellion and had lost the majority of them. Jack made his way around the edge of his desk and strode to the door.
Apparently dazed, Spencer watched him reach past her to shut the door as though she couldn’t quite figure out what he was doing there.
He knew he could have simply asked her to close the door in her sister’s wake before taking a chair. But he recognized his actions for what they were: a desperate excuse to get close enough to inhale her fragrance. A sweet, flowery, welcoming perfume that haunted his dreams. Beneath it all was that just-woke-up scent that he loved most. He envisioned her naked, spread across the bed, ready and waiting for him to lower his body over hers.
&nbs
p; “What are you doing here, Kelley?” His voice sounded rough, hoarse, even to his own ears.
She lifted her wounded gaze to his and raised her hand as though she were about to explain the diagramming of a sentence that she’d written on a blackboard. “Someone called me.”
“I’m not talking about the police station. I’m referring to Hopeful. What are you doing back in Hopeful?”
“Trying to keep Madison safe.”
Every protective bone and muscle in his body snapped to immediate attention. “From whom?”
She gave him a wry smile. “From herself. Obviously, I’m not doing a very good job of it.”
As though needing to reassure herself that he was real, that his presence wasn’t simply a nightmare she’d eventually wake up from, she laid her delicate hand against his beard-shadowed cheek. The warmth of her touch speared him clear down to his boot heels.
It took all his inner strength and resolve not to cover her hand with his and turn his head to press a kiss against her palm.
“I didn’t know you’d moved back, either,” she said softly, as softly as she’d once whispered endearments near his ear.
And he couldn’t help but wonder, if she had known, would she have returned, would she have risked facing a past that had scarred them both?
Giving her head a quick shake as though she needed to clear it, she dropped her hand to her side as her eyes lost their dullness and became sharp and clear. “Madison. I’m here to deal with Madison. You wanted to discuss the conditions under which you’d release her?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, fighting the need to beg her to touch him again, fighting the urge to take her in his arms, and fighting the impossible yearning to latch his mouth onto hers as though tomorrow had never come to destroy what they might have had. “Have a seat.”
He only dared to follow her with his eyes while she walked to the chair in front of his desk, her hips swaying slightly and enticingly. She still had the cutest little ass he’d ever seen. Nice and tight. Firm and heart-shaped. The lady made the cheapest pair of jeans look like a million bucks.
“Coffee?” he asked as he turned to the coffeemaker that he kept near his desk. He’d started brewing a pot as soon as he’d returned to his office with the hellion, figuring he’d need something to help keep him alert. Now he wished he’d grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s off the shelf on his way out of the Sit ’n’ Bull. Oblivion had never looked so damned inviting.
“Thanks. I could use the caffeine. I feel as though I’m trapped in a fog,” she responded.
Feeling the same way, he poured the strong brew into two mugs. He glanced over his shoulder. “Still like it the same way?”
Color jumping into her face, her cheeks burning a bright red, she nodded slightly. He wondered if she was remembering all the moments they’d shared that he could never forget.
He dumped two teaspoons of sugar and one of creamer into a mug, stirring until the coffee turned the light chocolate shade she preferred. He handed her the mug before dropping into his chair behind his desk. Studying her over the rising steam of his black coffee, he took a slow sip from the chipped mug he’d magnanimously taken for himself—the one that proclaimed that he had, over time, donated two gallons of life during the local blood drives.
She brought her mug to her lips, bare of any lip gloss. He’d always preferred them that way. Possessing a natural beauty, she never required makeup in order to appeal to any man still breathing. He wanted to yank off that scrunched-up thing holding her hair in a ponytail, so he could see the heavy strands brush her shoulders, could more easily envision the satiny feel of them gliding over his bare chest.
Her eyes were the green of the clover he’d often fantasized about laying her down on. Although they still reflected softness and kindness, her eyes also held sorrow now. He wondered if he were partly to blame. Or worse, if he were completely responsible. She’d had tears in her eyes the last time he’d seen her, but then, he’d been close to having them in his as well.
Looking at her from a distance, he could see a strong resemblance between her features and those of the hellion. That’s what had haunted him back at the bar. Eyes he’d gazed into a thousand times, lips he’d kissed not nearly enough.
She had both hands wrapped around her mug as though she needed something to hold on to, something to offer support. Incredibly tempted to lend her a shoulder, he watched as she swallowed. He’d loved the feel of her silken skin against his mouth, the beat of the pulse at her throat against his lips.
“How long have you been in town?” he asked.
She seemed to snap to attention, as though she’d been wandering through some deep and mystifying thoughts. He wasn’t egotistical enough to imagine she’d been reminiscing about him instead of thinking about her sister. Although nine years ago, he would have been. Back then, he’d thought he was the center of her universe. Probably because she’d been the nucleus of his.
“I moved back in July. I’m teaching at the high school again.”
How had he managed to miss that little tidbit of news? He wasn’t exactly a recluse in this town. But in July, he’d gone camping near Jackson Hole, Wyoming. He’d probably been hiking around Jenny Lind Lake when news of her arrival had been circulating around town.
“When did you move back?” she asked quietly.
“Five years ago.”
She ran her tongue around her lips, not in the provocative manner her younger sister had earlier. Still, her action caused his gut to clench and his chest to tighten, and he gripped his own mug as though that insignificant action could keep him shackled on his side of the desk.
“After you married Stephanie and joined the army”—she lifted a delicate shoulder—“knowing how much you hated this town, I didn’t think you’d ever return.”
That answered his earlier self-asked question. The hope of running into him had never entered her mind.
“There’s something to be said for the familiar,” he responded flatly.
“I suppose. How is Stephanie these days?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t know. After the kid was born, we got divorced, and she split. Haven’t seen her since.”
He saw the disappointment in her eyes, just as he had countless times while he’d sat—defiant and rebellious—in her classroom. He resented her judgment now more than he had then. She knew things about him no one else did. And yet he still couldn’t measure up.
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” she said.
He loosened his grip on the mug and leaned back in his chair, striving to give the impression that he couldn’t care less what she was sorry about. “All you told me was that I needed to do my duty by the girl and the kid. I did that. But we’re not here to discuss my failings. Tell me what’s up with Cruella De Vil.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. “I wouldn’t have expected you to know the name of a character from 101 Dalmatians.”
“Yeah, well, there’s apparently a lot about me that you don’t know. So, what’s her story?” he prodded impatiently.
She set her mug on the edge of his desk and popped her knuckles—a habit that signaled she wasn’t comfortable with the situation. She’d exhibited the same action every time she’d made him stay in her classroom after school. He’d given her lots of reasons to punish him. Her punishment had always been his reward.
“Madison is my half sister. Same mother, different fathers.” Her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, she laughed self-consciously and avoided his gaze. “You probably figured that out, since we have different last names.”
“That was my first assumption. But I’ve learned you can’t build a case based on assumptions. You have to collect facts. Therefore, I try not to assume anything.”
Concern darted into her eyes as she looked back at him. “Are you trying to build a case against her?”
“I’m trying to determine how best to handle the situation.” How best to help you.
She nodded. “Okay. Fair enough
. The summer you left, I moved back home. About eighteen months ago, my parents died in a car accident. I became Madison’s guardian. Since then, she’s become almost impossible to control.
“We lived in Dallas. Big city. Easy access to drugs. I think Madison was experimenting with them. One of her friends died of an overdose. I was terrified the same thing would happen to Madison. I thought if I got her out of that environment…I thought a small town, with small-town values.” She shook her head. “Like you said. There’s something to be said for familiarity. I was happy here—”
“Were you?” he cut in. He’d never known for sure.
“For a while,” she admitted.
“I wrote you after I went into the army. You never answered.”
“Of course, I didn’t answer. You were a married man.”
Her answer irritated him. Yeah, he’d been married, but he’d needed her. “Let’s get back to your sister.”
“There’s not much more to tell. I just want her to be happy, and I’m not having much luck accomplishing that goal. These middle-of-the-night visits to the police station make me feel like a failure.
“Anyway, I’m not here for analysis. You mentioned something about her car being at the Sit ’n’ Bull.”
“That’s where I ran into her flashing around a fake ID and that very provocatively dressed little body of hers.”
“Oh, my God.” Kelley buried her face in her hands. “Why is she doing this?”
“She obviously likes to punch your buttons. I can relate to how much fun that is.”
Her head came up, fire flashing in those emerald eyes. “Yeah, I’ll just bet you can. The difference is that she can get hurt—badly—if she keeps up these rebellious stunts.”
He’d been hurt as well, more deeply than he cared to admit, more profoundly than he wanted her to know. He needed to keep their meeting focused on the business at hand, not personal matters. Unfortunately, he’d already made the mistake of letting it get far too personal.
Giving his throat a sound clearing, he straightened and planted his elbows on the desk. “Dave Lighten was hitting on her. He has a reputation for wearing out the mattresses at the local motel. Why his wife puts up with him is a mystery to me. But I’ll have a talk with him to make sure he understands Madison is jailbait. I’ve confiscated her false ID, but she can probably get another one easily enough. Morty will kick her out if she shows up at his bar. You might consider grounding her.”
Hard loving man Page 2
