Stuck On You

by Christine Wenger

  Kate shrugged out of her beige rain coat and handed it to him. He took it and did a double take. Kate was wearing a slip of a black satin nightgown. A black satin nightgown!

  He knew he was staring, but what the hell else could he do? The view was magnificent. She had long, tanned legs and taut breasts, and apparently she was cold, although Mack would have liked to believe that she was reacting to his bare chest. He grinned, loving how she managed to look sweet and sexy along with tough and feminine all at the same time.

  Kate followed his gaze, gasped and crossed her arms over her breasts. "I–I forgot."

  She grabbed for her coat and hurriedly put it back on. It was like covering up a work of art.

  "And why don't you go and put a shirt on?" she said.

  Kate was pink-faced, and Mack stifled a smile. It flattered him to believe that his bare chest unnerved her a little. Hell, she’d seen a lot more of him than just his chest!

  Maybe he'd hold off on putting on a shirt a while longer. "Let me pour you some coffee."

  As her eyes swept over him again, a darker blush crept up her cheeks. "I'll pour the coffee," she blurted. "Go."

  He left her standing there in her coat, looking flustered, looking sweet. He was being framed and set-up to take a big fall, yet Kate Kingston still could turn him on.

  She wasn't immune to him either. He could tell that he’d met her approval while he was in the shower, and he was positive that she wanted to be kissed by him yesterday. Only he had chickened out.

  Someday, he'd like to kiss her the way he really wanted.

  Physical attraction was fine, but for some crazy reason, he wanted her to believe in him just a gram more than he wanted to take her to bed. But so far, he hadn't done a thing to win her trust, so why the hell should she believe in him?

  His own father didn’t believe in him, so why should he expect Kate to be any different?

  He found an old orange Syracuse University tee shirt in his drawer and tossed it on. As he walked back to the kitchen, he decided to tell her what he knew so far. Well, not everything. Just enough to pacify her.

  Kate's life could be in danger just from being this close to him. He'd been to hell and back with Tom getting shot. If something happened to Kate, too, he would never, ever, forgive himself.

  Time to regroup and think of another plan.

  He couldn't confide in her. The less she knew, the better off she'd be.

  Then again, he could protect her.

  Yeah, sure, super cop, just like you protected your partner.

  He needed some time to think, and figure out a direction to take. Damn! He was losing his edge just by being near Kate. His thoughts were all muddled. Not good.

  She was sitting on one of the green and white lawn chairs sipping coffee when he returned to the kitchen. Her eyes met his over the rim of his Police Athletic Association mug.

  "Black?" she asked.

  "Black."

  She handed him a mug. "I figured as much. Every cop I know drinks black coffee."

  He sat on the other lawn chair and took a long draw of the vile stuff, wishing he had a couple of peanut donuts to dunk.

  "Tell me what you think is going on, Mack. I'm listening."

  He took a deep breath as he studied her. The words wouldn't come, and it scared him. Words were the tool of his craft. His life depended on him thinking fast on his feet. Staring into his coffee cup, he tried to find the answers he was searching for.

  "I'm not a drug dealer. I hate drugs. I've made it my goal to clean up the streets in my little corner of the world ever since I joined the force."

  "Go on," she urged.

  "That's it."

  "Do you think you are being setup?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Why would anyone want to do that?"

  Because I was getting close, he thought, and someone was getting nervous. "That's what I'd need to find out."

  "And Plato Corlett?"

  "You know the Greeks, they know a little bit about a lot of things. I thought that maybe he could help."

  "What were you doing out of the house this morning?"

  He searched his soul, weighed the pros and cons of answering her question, and decided that since she'd found his clothes in the trash, he had no alternative but to tell the truth.

  "I was jogging," he half-lied.

  Her eyes narrowed. "In spite of the fact that you are on home confinement and aren't supposed to leave the house?"

  "I forgot," he totally lied. "It's a habit, jogging that is."

  "You forgot?" She set the coffee mug down on the metal snack tray with a clang. "That big black plastic thing around your ankle is easy to overlook when you are putting on socks and running shoes, isn't it?" Ice frosted her voice. She didn't believe him for a second.

  "Oh, forget it! I thought you were going to level with me, Mack," Standing up, she cinched the belt on her raincoat tighter. "But instead you continue to insult my intelligence. Where were you going?"

  "All right. All right. Sit down."

  She did, and he chose his words carefully. “It was raining the night Tom got shot. A down pour really. I got an anonymous call at the station that a big deal was going down on South Alfred St. We, Tom and I, had scoped out the place and we didn’t hear anything happening inside. Due to the rain, we couldn’t see or hear much of anything anyway. I had just rammed the door, when a shot rang out and Tom went down.”

  “And?”

  “And what?

  “Was it a sniper shot? Did you see anyone?”

  “No. The weather was too bad.”

  “Do you think that someone was out to kill you?”

  “Did I say that?”

  “No. I’m asking you that.”

  “I don’t know that for sure, but I think that you know all you need to know for now.”

  She sighed, then her eyes sparkled. “Let me help you. We can talk to your captain, and Pete Nash. Or even the mayor. They’ll help.”

  Damn! He’d said too much. “No. I’ll handle it myself.”

  "But you can’t handle it yourself. You have to stay put.”

  He gritted his teeth. He didn’t know who he could trust and who he couldn’t. Could he trust Kate?

  “Kate, listen to me. I said that I’d handle it myself.”

  She picked up her purse and hauled it over her shoulder. "I'm going to surrender you. I'm going to call Pete Nash or whatever judge has your case now and tell him that you won't do my program and that I just caught you way over the twenty-foot limit."

  She couldn’t do that. He had work to do, and time was of the essence. He couldn’t investigate from a jail cell.

  "I'm telling you the truth. I went out jogging, and it is a habit. I ran into Plato and he asked me for money. I dumped my clothes because I thought you saw me and I didn't want you to go ballistic like you often do." He stood up and closed the distance between them a little. "And that's the absolute truth, Kate."

  "That might be the truth, but that's not the entire story.”

  He'd like nothing more than to hold her in his arms, take her coat off, and run his hands over that little satin thing she was wearing while he told her everything, but he couldn't do that. There was no way in hell he was going to put her at risk.

  "No. I'm not. I can't. I don't even know myself yet. I wish you'd understand that."

  “Let me help you.” Her eyes were sincere and hopeful.

  “No. I can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

  "Then the cat and mouse game is over. I've just realized that I'm the mouse." She walked to the door, and paused. "I'll be back with a warrant for your surrender. I'm sorry things worked out this way. Mack, and I hope you get out of the trouble you're in. I really do."

  "Give me another chance." He gave her the most charming, sincere smile he could muster, but she didn't bite.

  "Sorry. I can’t. You’re just going to keep sneaking out. I could help you with your investigation, but you don’t trust me."

 
“Kate, wait. That’s not it.”

  “Sorry, Mack.”

  Mack watched as she pulled out of the driveway. He was disappointed that things hadn't turned out better and regretted that he had never asked Kate out years ago. It wouldn’t have worked out back then, and things weren't going to work out now either. Not when he was accused of being a criminal.

  He was in too much damn trouble to romance Kate like he wanted to—like he’d always wanted to.

  It was better that she stay away from him. Lately, he was attracting trouble like a hooker on a Saturday night.

  Picking up the phone, he dialed Pete Nash's chambers.

  "Judge Nash speaking."

  "Yo, Pete. I got into a jam with Kate and she wants to surrender me. Are you still my judge?"

  "Yeah. Seems like Judge Clark eloped with his law clerk and is on his way to Maui. But that's another story." He snickered. "What'd you do now, buddy?"

  "I went jogging."

  "I don't believe that's part of Your Home is Your Jail." He chuckled, then sobered. "Look, Mack, I'm sticking my neck out for you already, not to mention my political career. So all kidding aside, I want you to stay in your house or I'll have no other alternative but to keep you in jail. Got it?"

  "Yeah. I got it. But convince her to give me another chance, will you?"

  "Okay, but I'm telling you to stay in your house. Understand?"

  "Understood."

  "Good. And this conversation never took place."

  "What conversation?"

  #

  It crossed Kate's mind to go right to Pete Nash's office without stopping to change, but then she quickly decided against it. This was a professional call, so she'd dress professionally. A slip of a nightgown certainly wouldn't qualify for most professions.

  It was unfortunate that Judge Clark decided to take an extended vacation. She'd rather deal with him, than Pete. Judge Clark wasn’t an old high school classmate, so maybe he could see things more clearly. Too bad Rose Lake didn't have one more county court judge to choose from.

  Hurrying up the stairs to her office, she unlocked the door and began shedding her nightgown on her way to the bathroom. She planned to take a quick shower, change, type up Mack's surrender papers, then dash to Pete's office.

  She glanced at the VV-98 and saw that the alarm was still beeping. She reset the alarm and the annoying sound stopped. Pretty soon, she'd shut the whole thing off and save electricity until she had a client to take Mack's place.

  She let the shower rain down on her, but it couldn't wash away the disappointment that had a grip on her heart. It saddened her that Mack wouldn't confide in her.

  When she was a probation officer, she'd had several brief dealings with him relative to her cases. He had always been the consummate professional. Very helpful. And she could listen to his deep, rich voice for hours. Yet there had always been a strained atmosphere between them, something she couldn't define.

  Maybe it was because he was too overwhelming, too self-secure, and when God passed out testosterone, Mack got in line twice. He was a cop's cop. A rogue. She had heard that some of the cops wouldn't work with him because he didn't do things by the book. Others looked up to him as if he were the ultimate crime fighter, minus the cape.

  Kate knew that he wouldn't give up until he got to the bottom of what was happening to him. He was that kind of cop. That kind of man.

  And she had to be one step ahead of him all the way if she wanted her program to work. She was exhausted just thinking about it.

  She’d rather sit in front of her computer and push buttons. Life on the streets wasn’t for her. And when her job required home visits, she hated them, too. It was safe behind her computer.

  Mack was pretty angry when she accused him of selling drugs. Actually, when she calmed down, she couldn't believe that the thought had ever crossed her mind. He’d always been squeaky clean, an athlete. When other classmates were partying, Mack was training for football, basketball, track and studying. Mack was one of the most intelligent people she knew.

  Kate reminded herself she owed him. She owed him for helping her qualify for carrying a firearm. Carrying a gun was mandatory for new probation officers, and Mack was the instructor for her class.

  She had been a nervous mess. Not only was she jumpy just being around Mack, but she was scared stupid to even touch a gun. She had wanted the job so bad, she thought she could handle the gun training, but she couldn’t.

  Mack worked with her after the others in the class had left the range. She tried her hardest. He was patient. And when the slide rocketed back, striking her thumb, and blood dripped down her arm into the dirt, he carefully patched her up and blamed himself for not correcting her grip.

  But she was the one who had gotten her thumb in the way of the slide. She was distracted by his nearness, his scent, the way the setting sun reddened his dark hair.

  Thanks to Mack, she passed the target shooting with good scores. She then joined a pistol league and became even more proficient.

  But whenever Mack saw her, he never forget to tease her about the cow that wandered out on the hill above the outdoor range and plopped down.

  She had thought she killed it with an errant shot and burst into tears as the class burst into laughter. Kate couldn’t even function until Mack hiked up the hill and proclaimed the cow unscathed.

  "To surrender, or not to surrender, that is the question", she mumbled in her best theatrical voice. She didn’t want to surrender him.

  Mack really left her no choice. It was perfectly clear that he wasn't going to do her program.

  Regretfully, she decided to call Pete Nash. She cut the shower, wrapped a towel around her, and dialed his chambers from her office phone.

  "Judge Nash."

  "Pete, it's Kate Kingston. I need to see you. I'm surrendering Mack, and I need you to sign his surrender forms since Judge Clark isn't around. I can be in your office in about an hour."

  "Whoa, Kate! It's only been a couple of days."

  "It seems like a lifetime."

  "Talk to Mack and read him the riot act."

  "I've done that, Pete. It's just not working. I gave him every chance and he's just not cooperating. He's not going to stay home. You can sign the surrender forms and then issue a warrant for his arrest. He can sit in the Justice Center until he petrifies. I don't care."

  But she did. She cared a lot, but she had to think of her program. She needed to make it a success. But on the other hand, if she surrendered Mack, it would show that her program was tough. And that she was tough.

  But she wasn’t. She was mush where he was concerned. But she had to do what she had to do.

  Judge Nash chuckled. "Too bad. I always thought you would've been great together."

  "As what? Professional wrestlers?" Kate took a deep breath. "This isn’t personal, Pete. It’s about my program, and he’s not taking it serious."

  "I'd like you to give it another try."

  "You've got to be kidding. I–"

  "I promise Mack will stay put. What's he up to anyway? Why does he keep leaving?"

  "I don't know. I can't get a straight answer from him. I'm done with him, Pete."

  "I won't sign his surrender yet. Give him another chance."

  "But–"

  "Just give him another chance, for history's sake."

  "Mack and I never had a history, and–"

  "Well, I had a history with him. We were best friends...once." She heard him sigh. Then he didn't say anything for a long time. "Look, Kate. I'm in the middle of a trial. Just hang in there with Mack, and keep me posted."

  "But–"

  Click.

  Frustrated, Kate pushed her wet hair from her face. Then she jumped as the VV-98's alarm went off—piercing the silence.

  "Damn that man!"

  #

  Sipping coffee, Mack looked out of his kitchen window, and saw how upset Mrs. Tucker was.

  He had to help Mrs. Tucker get Molly down from the tree.
That cat was her whole life, along with baking sugar cookies. "My boy, Ronnie, always liked my sugar cookies," she'd say. Unfortunately, they were the worst cookies in the world. No wonder Ronnie became a lifer in the Marines, and was stationed at some frozen tundra many miles away from his mother's sugar cookies.

  Ronnie's absence left Mrs. Tucker lonely, except for Molly.

  Mack debated. If he walked out, the damn VV-98 would notify Kate that he was gone. And by now she would have found out that Pete Nash was in his corner, at least on this one.

  Kate would be furious.

  Mack smiled. He had the knack, be that good or bad, for intimidating people. It came in handy when he was trying to get out of a dangerous situation. His size didn't hurt either. But Kate stood up to him, challenged him both mentally and emotionally. Whatever made him think that she was shy?

  It was the emotional part that he was worried about with Kate. He couldn’t afford to get emotionally attached to her.

  It puzzled Mack that he was torn between facing Kate's rage, or getting Molly, the eternally-roving cat, back to the loving care of Mrs. Tucker. He wouldn't have hesitated before, and he wasn't going to hesitate now.

  Mack drained the last sludge of coffee and hurried out the garage door to his back yard.

  "I'll get Molly for you, Mrs. Tucker," he shouted, jogging over to the big maple tree in her back yard.

  She clapped her hands together. "Bless you, Johnny. I don't know what's wrong with Molly. She has wanderlust today."

  Today and every day, Mack thought. It would serve the fur ball right if he left her up there, but he couldn't do that to Mrs. Tucker.

  Water from soggy leaves rained down on him as he climbed the slippery tree. Plucking Molly off one of the branches, he cradled the wet cat in his arms. She purred contentedly. This was just another adventure to Molly.

  When he hit solid ground, he placed the cat into the outstretched arms of Mrs. Tucker.

  "Bad girl, Molly," Mrs. Tucker said, turning her face to receive cat licks. "Johnny, would you put her in the kitchen for me? And I insist that you come in and have some sugar cookies and tea."

  Mack let the cat in the back door, as he had a dozen times before. "Sorry, Mrs. Tucker, I have things to do today. I can't spare the time, but I'll take a rain check."