He grinned, though it didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “Santa told you I was a good boy, huh?”
She laughed for the second time in twenty minutes. That was a record, at least recently. She looked up at him. “You know why.”
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Yeah. And thank you. They’ll help.”
He carried stuffed toys in his car, as did most of the other officers, for the youngest victims they encountered. She’d seen first-hand how they’d helped calm the toddler who’d been the only survivor in the car crash that one terrible Christmas she still had trouble putting out of her head. She brought him two new ones every time she rode with him.
He leaned to place them in the trunk and her eyes landed on his rear end. She bit back a moan at the way his uniform pants hugged his incredibly fit body, then jolted when the lid closed with a sharp thunk. She lifted her gaze and flinched at his raised eyebrow. Great. Caught ogling his ass. She tried a smile but it felt forced.
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay, Bec? You seem not quite yourself today.”
Not going there, no way. Not. Going. There. “I’m fine. Ready to roll, partner?”
He gave her another measured look but nodded. “Ready, partner.”
* * *
Christ. He hadn’t been lying when he said she looked off. She was a beautiful woman, with long brown curls and brown eyes, both the color of milk chocolate. For years, he’d wondered if the tiny freckles that dusted the bridge of her nose were anywhere else on her body. He imagined so, and the thought tormented him, as did her incredible body. She was average height but built like a pin-up girl, or she had been when he’d last seen her nine months ago at Easter.
Today, however, she looked as though she’d dropped twenty pounds and, while she was still gorgeous, she also looked exhausted. And, to him, far too thin.
He held her door for her and closed it behind her, then got into the driver’s seat. “Buckle up,” he ordered, starting the car.
As they pulled out onto the street, his radio was silent. Christmas Day was either a fucking zoo or a ghost town. He was selfishly hoping for the latter so he could spend more time talking with Becca. He only got to see her a few hours twice a year.
The minute the thought crossed his mind, he swore silently. Shit, after the torture he went through the last time, sitting in his car, surrounded by the scent that was uniquely Becca, he should never have told Mallory he wanted her as his ride-along tonight. He wasn’t stupid. He knew there was some serious, heavy-duty attraction between them, but she’d tried to hide it and so had he. If she’d been single, he’d have made his move. But she was married and though he’d hated the prick on sight, he didn’t poach. And that shift on Easter had nearly killed him just with the nearness of her. Every time they did this, it cost him. Big.
He spent an inordinate amount of time imagining Becca Rickman naked, bound and on her knees. And he measured every other woman he met up to her. He wanted her, but he couldn’t ever have her. Fuck him, he couldn’t even keep from touching her today, and his lack of self-control was appalling. Why the hell had he set himself up for this again? He wasn’t a masochist.
No, you’re a Dom in cop’s clothing, and she trips every goddamn one of your triggers. Now shut up and focus.
He reached out to wake his computer screen, then frowned and slid a glance her way. Was it his imagination, or did she just flinch?
She shifted in her seat and turned to him, derailing his thought. “So what’s going on in Jeremy’s world? Did you take that vacation you were talking about? You were going to the Outer Banks this past summer, right?”
Good memory. “Yeah. It was great. I didn’t want to come back to work. I mean, I love my job, you know that. But a week fishing, sitting on the beach, hiking? Can’t beat it. Did you go anywhere for vacation?”
He watched her square her shoulders. “No, not this year,” she said, and then she fell silent.
Jesus, she’d never had trouble talking with him before. His dominant personality reared its safe, sane and consensual-minded head, telling him to give her a chance to safe word out of this assignment. Something was up, or else his people-reading skills needed some serious fucking help. “Bec, did I steamroll you into riding with me today? Because I can take you back to the station if this isn’t what you want to do.”
To his wholly inappropriate satisfaction her face turned pink—the same heated shade it turned when he’d caught her staring at his ass—and she dropped her gaze. “No. I want to be here.”
“Okay,” he said quietly, fighting back the surge of pleasure that reaction roused. He could be patient, mostly. They had eight hours to share. He’d pry whatever was on her mind out of her, even if it took his entire shift.
“Really, I’m—”
His radio crackled to life and Becca snapped her mouth shut. With a sidelong glance at her, he answered the call for a 911 disconnect and turned on lights and sirens. She stayed silent on the ride over, and he was grateful. It gave him the chance to get his head in the game.
When they reached the address, he stepped out of the car, ducking his head back in. “Wait here. You remember how to use the radio if I need help?”
She looked worried but nodded. “Press the red button and say, Alpha 269 needs immediate assistance, then give them our location.”
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Be right back.”
He straightened and stepped away from the car. Good girl? Had he really said that out loud? Jesus, he needed to watch what came out of his mouth around Bec, or he’d give himself away. And he needed to focus. He took a moment to suck in a breath and push everything but his training out of his brain. An inattentive cop could be a dead cop, and yeah, that wasn’t in his plans for today. It didn’t take long, though, to figure out that the call was a mistake. He wished the family a merry Christmas, accepted a plate of cookies from the embarrassed woman who’d answered the door, and headed back to his cruiser.
“Everything okay in there?”
He nodded, then keyed his radio. “Alpha 269 clear.”
“What happened?”
“Big family gathering and one of the kids picked up his grandma’s phone and pushed the red 911 button. Happens a lot.”
“Ah. That’s better than the alternative.” She relaxed against the seat with a sigh. “Much better.”
“Yeah.” He took a minute to log the call into his mobile laptop and then he pulled back out onto the road. “Coffee?”
She jumped. “Excuse me?”
He stifled a sigh. In all the ways he’d hoped today would go, expected today to go, Becca being distant and distracted wasn’t it. “I’m going to stop for coffee. Do you want any?”
“Oh. No thank you. We had a big breakfast.”
Jealousy poked him hard in the gut. He didn’t want to think about Becca with her husband, still fresh from sleep...or whatever. Married, he reminded himself. Off limits. “No problem. Maybe I’ll wait too. I need to do a patrol check, anyway.”
They drove through town in relative silence. It was only when they got to the airport that Becca spoke up, her voice wistful, her eyes dreamy. “I always wonder where the people who own these planes go.”
“Me too,” he admitted, and it wasn’t a lie. Theirs was a small regional airport with a lot of corporate jets, small private craft, and the occasional landing of a blimp. Even presidential helicopters, due to the proximity of Camp David. “Wherever it is, it’s nowhere I can afford to go. Not on a cop’s salary.”
She snorted. “Not on a teacher’s salary, either.”
He raised his brow, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Isn’t your husband a hotshot lawyer? I figured you took all kinds of vacations.”
She flinched at the words, then turned to stare out the window.
“Bec?” When she didn’t answer, he pulled the cruiser to a stop near one of the hangars and turned to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. Shit, he hadn’t liked the guy and was jealous as he
ll of him, but he hoped something bad hadn’t happened. It would explain the weight loss and the exhaustion, though. “Rebeccah? Talk to me.”
* * *
Becca heard Jeremy’s honest concern and made herself meet his gaze. She’d figured this conversation would happen sooner or later, but she hadn’t really planned for how she’d answer it. She stared down at her hand, at the naked ring finger that still felt empty, even though she’d been relieved to be free of Sam. “I’m not with him anymore. We’re divorced.”
“How long?” Jeremy growled.
She jerked her head back up, startled by the vehemence in his tone, his choice of words, and the clench of his fingers against her skin. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw tight, like it had been earlier at the station. “Nine months since we separated. Four months since the divorce was final.”
“Fucking waste,” he muttered under his breath.
She didn’t understand what he meant, but the look in his eyes was disconcerting, to say the least. “I...what?”
He dropped his hand and fell silent, just watching her. Her stomach churned. For months, she’d imagined telling him she was single. This wasn’t the reaction she’d expected, though. Interest, maybe. Sympathy, even. But anger? It was reminiscent of their last ride-along, and this was why she’d considered doing her mitzvah in the station rather than with him. When she’d first met him, he was easygoing and fun to talk with. But over the years, he’d changed. And this Jeremy—this intense, brooding guy—made her itchy and nervous. Not necessarily in a bad way, but totally aware of him on every level. “Jeremy?”
Her cell vibrated. She ignored it, focusing instead on the man she couldn’t get out of her thoughts, the one who still had his eyes locked on her face as though he were searching for something there.
“You should answer that.”
With a sigh, she dropped her eyes and looked at the screen. Her best friend, Hannah, who was riding with another officer. The texts came one after the other in quick bursts, kind of the way she spoke. Fun stuff. Glad u talked me into this. Hot cop. Single. Not Jewish, which may kill my parents, but oh well. One long pause, then another text. Going for it. Not getting any younger.
In spite of the tension in the car, Becca laughed.
“Something funny?”
She looked up at the question on his face and giggle-snorted. “My friend Hannah. She’s riding with Officer...” she paused, looked at her phone, “...Christianson. She said he’s hot and she’s not getting younger. She’s only twenty-three. She’s got plenty of time.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Matt’s okay. Good guy, great cop. Single, as a far as I know.”
She nodded and dropped her phone back into her lap. That did make her feel better, but you never really knew, did you? She stared at her naked ring finger again. The silence between them stretched on for what felt like forever.
“Why didn’t you tell me you got divorced, Bec?”
Right for the hard questions. “I was going to, but... Does it matter?”
He grunted. “Fuck, yeah, it matters.” The minute the words came out, he flushed. “Sorry.”
Though she was still trying to process what he was getting at, she answered his apology. “What, for the F bomb? I teach middle school, remember? They love that word. And I have three big brothers, so I’m more than familiar with it.” She rolled her eyes at his raised brow. “I’m not some recluse who’s never heard anyone swear before. And I’ve been known to drop my own F bombs a time or two.”
With that, Jeremy’s lips quirked into a tight smile, though again, it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Really, a nice Jewish girl like you, swearing? I’m appalled.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. In the last few years of their marriage, whenever Sam had gotten mad at her for something, that’s what he’d thrown at her. She swore? She wasn’t behaving like a nice Jewish girl. She wanted more than the missionary position in bed? She wasn’t behaving like a proper Jewish woman. She knew Jeremy was teasing, but damn, she wished he’d chosen other words. Any other words. She bit the inside of her cheek and forced her insecurities back into the farthest reaches of her mind. They didn’t belong here and, dammit, she wouldn’t let Sam ruin things for her now that she’d gotten back on her feet.
She forced herself to look at Jeremy and was bowled over by his tight jaw and narrowed eyes. She froze, locked in his intense gaze.
Chapter Two
What. The. Fuck.
Jeremy had a sick feeling in his gut, and he didn’t like what it was telling him. Even though he was reeling from the news she was divorced, had in fact been divorced for half a damn year, he’d tossed a joking comment to Becca. She’d turned as white as a corpse, and still as one, too. He’d seen that reaction before, in the line of duty.
In women who’d been abused.
Instant denial made him snarl low in his throat and she shrank back, solidifying his theory even further. “Oh, God. What the hell did he do to you?”
The moment the words came out, he wanted to call them back. All those years of training and he just blurted it out like that? Nice work, asshole. Her eyes widened, but he couldn’t back down now. Wouldn’t back down now. Needed to know, personally not professionally. “Your ex. What. Did. He. Do?”
The sound she made was half sob, half hysterical laugh. “He did me a favor. He gave me the reason I needed to leave him.”
He’d wanted her since the first day she’d climbed into his cruiser and today was no different. He’d seen her a grand total of ten times, for no more than eight hours each. No, make that eleven times. He’d run into her and her husband once when he was providing security at a charity event. She’d been dressed to the nines in a modest yet sexy-as-sin dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue. He remembered thinking then that her husband, whose eyes had shifted around the room looking at every woman but the one with him, didn’t deserve her. Jeremy, on the other hand, had seen no one but her. He forced his mind back to now and tried to keep his voice even. “Did he hurt you, Becca?”
She touched her cheek and his blood ran cold. “O-only once. I left him that night.”
Fucking hell. “Why didn’t you call me?”
She turned shocked eyes on him. “What?”
“You should have called me or someone else in the department. Rebeccah, we’ve all known you for five years. Any one of us would’ve helped you.”
Her spine snapped straight, her gaze serious and steady. “I didn’t need to. I handled it myself.”
He leveled a look at her, which she met head on. Jesus, she was something else, and his respect for her grew. He nodded slowly. “I guess you did, but I wish you’d called.”
She blew out a sigh. “Can we shelve this? Because really, I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Fair enough. But, Bec? We’re gonna have to talk about it sometime. Sometime soon.”
She muttered something under her breath, something in a foreign language, and then relented, crossing her arms and sitting back against the seat. “Fine. But not today.”
Her stubborn attitude ticked him off and turned him on, but before he could decide which was stronger, his radio chirped again. Christ, it was going to be one of those Christmases where he went non-stop all fucking day. He slid another glance her way and answered the call.
* * *
Four hours into their ride-along, he drove them back to the station. This year, like every year, there was food for them since all the fast food places and most restaurants were closed. The shift on duty was taking turns with lunch breaks, so there were only a few other people in the meeting room where the food was. They followed the tempting smells the whole way down the hall. He grabbed a plate and handed one to Becca.
She took it with a faint smile. “Thanks. I’ll bet you’re hungry. It’s been really busy for Christmas Day.”
He grunted. “Too busy. Luckily it’s all been easy stuff so far. Later, we’re going to wind up with the drunks and the dom
estic cases.” He slid a glance her way. “You up for that?”
She raised a brow. “Have I ever not been?”
He almost laughed, but then he remembered and his stomach clenched. “No, but you’ve also never been—”
She cut him off with a dramatic slice of her hand through the air. “I’ve never backed out and I’m not going to now.”
God, he loved her feisty attitude. His anger—not at her, but at her slime of an ex—was still on a slow burn, but if she wanted to move forward, what right did he have to stop her? “Attagirl.”
“Damned straight.”
He grinned and put some shrimp on his plate, offering her some.
“No, thanks. I don’t eat shellfish.”
“Right, I forgot. The kosher thing.” He speared one with a fork and went to put it in his mouth. “Oh, what you’re missing.”
“Yeah, blowing up like a balloon. I don’t follow kosher dietary rules. What I am is allergic to most shellfish.”
Shit. He put the fork down and dumped the whole plate into the trash. “Well, in that case, I’ll skip it today.”
She frowned. “It’s fine if you want it. It’s only an issue if I eat it myself.”
He shook his head, pulled her out into a quiet hallway on the far side of the meeting room. He looked around, then backed her against the wall. He braced one hand beside her head and leaned close to her ear, crowding her personal space. “I don’t want to take any chances with your safety, Rebeccah. Have you figured it out yet? Do you know why I’ve always asked for you to be my ride-along?”
She tilted her head, blinked up at him, and he was sunk.
“Tell me if I’m off base here. If I am, I’ll back off right now and you can finish out your shift here at the station. But if I’m right, I need to know that. It’s been a long five years, Bec, wanting a woman I couldn’t have.”
“Jeremy, I—”
“Oh, excuse me.” It was a female voice, slightly breathless.
He swore under his breath and stepped back, nearly bumping into Matt Christianson and a young, pretty blonde he assumed was Becca’s friend Hannah. “No problem. We were just talking.” Fuck, could he sound any more like he was trying to cover up something he shouldn’t be doing? And the worst part was that it wasn’t a lie. All they’d been doing was talking.
Matzoh and Mistletoe Page 2
