by Gina Wilkins
“Then I won’t make sandwiches,” he replied, a bit smugly.
Lindsey only nodded.
Dan’s gaze drifted down to her mouth, and his smile seemed to slide away. They froze in that position for several long, silent moments, his face hovering only inches above hers, his hands tightening on her shoulders. Either of them had only to move just a little to bring their mouths together. To send them into each other’s arms.
Lindsey didn’t quite have the courage to make that move. And Dan didn’t seem inclined to make it himself.
He loosened his grip on her shoulders and drew away, his expression oddly grim even as he kept his tone light. “I’ll let you know when it’s ready,” he said, stepping back.
Still not quite trusting her voice, she nodded again.
He disappeared into the kitchen and she stared at the doorway through which he had departed. What did he expect her to do now? Lie here like a helpless victim while he took over her house? Drive herself crazy trying to interpret the look that had been in his eyes as he’d bent so close to her?
Scowling, she reached for the telephone. Languishing just wasn’t her style.
Riley answered his cell phone after a couple of rings. “O’Neal here.”
“Riley, it’s Lindsey.”
“Hey, Linds. I thought you got blown up.”
Obviously, he’d been assured she wasn’t badly hurt, or he wouldn’t have made such a sick joke. At least, she didn’t think he would. With Riley, it was sometimes hard to tell.
“I was only partially blown up,” she answered in the same vein. “What’s going on with you?”
“I’m writing a front-page story about a beautiful, intrepid reporter who risks life and limb in pursuit of the news.”
She groaned. “Please tell me that’s only a joke. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Did I say the story was about you? It’s about me.”
She snorted inelegantly. “Yeah, right. What have you really learned today? Anything new?”
“Not much. No one saw anyone suspicious hanging around the arson scene either before or after the fire. There’s been no sign of Eddie Stamps, and his mother is starting to make a lot of noise. She’s getting hysterical—understandably, of course.”
“Her son is missing. She has a right to be hysterical.”
“Yeah. Anyway, she’s claiming no one is paying attention to her boy because everyone’s so focused on the arsons. And she’s been asking where Chief Meadows is. All anyone is saying is that Dan’s off on personal business today.”
Lindsey winced. People had to be wondering what Dan was doing taking time off only hours after another fire. As much as his friends had been urging him to take a break, no one could have expected him to do so today. She was still stunned by his decision herself.
“Dan’s keeping very close tabs on his ongoing investigations,” she said, defending him. “But he deserves a chance to rest from the long hours he’s been putting in lately.”
“Sure he does. I’ve been telling him that for ages. I’ve been saying the same thing to you, if you’ll remember. So stop worrying about work and spend the rest of the day recuperating, okay? This is only your second day off in months. Lousy way to get a break, but you might as well take advantage of it. And if you’re still not fully recovered by tomorrow, take another day. Believe it or not, the paper’s not going to shut down if you aren’t here for a couple days.”
“I know that.”
“Seriously, Lindsey, is there anything you need? I can come by later and give you a hand.”
Lindsey could hear Dan clattering pans and slamming cabinet doors in the kitchen. “Thanks, Riley, but I’m okay. I have help.”
“Well, tell Dan I said hi. And let me know if you need me for anything.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Hanging up, she considered calling Cameron, but decided that could wait until after she’d eaten. Her curiosity was simply getting the better of her.
She stood, stretching in an attempt to relax her stiff muscles. Dr. Frank had told her it would be several days before the soreness went away, but she had no intention of giving in to the discomfort. She’d once played a tennis tournament with a stress fracture in her left ankle. She could ignore a few scrapes and contusions now.
Walking a bit stiff-legged, she entered the kitchen, pausing just inside the doorway. She wasn’t sure what Dan was making, but apparently it required the use of several bowls and utensils, judging from the cluttered counters. His back to her, he worked at the stove, his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear. He talked in a low voice, and she didn’t try to eavesdrop, but she could tell the call was work related.
Dan was definitely still running the show from behind the scenes. She suspected he’d taken only a brief nap before she’d found him on her couch.
Dan might not be in his office, but he was still at work, she thought with an indulgent smile. She identified all too well with that sort of dedication.
She waited until he disconnected the call before asking, “Are you sure you don’t need help?”
He looked over his shoulder. “It’s all under control. Almost ready.”
She moved toward the cupboard. “I’ll set the table.”
“I’ll get it. You sit down.”
“Dan,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “if I don’t start moving around, I’m going to be as stiff as an ironing board. Now get out of the way and let me set the table.”
He moved. Lindsey was very careful to conceal every wince and grimace as she took plates and glasses from the cabinets and silverware from its drawer. If Dan spotted the first sign of weakness, he was likely to pick her up and carry her to the couch.
As tempting as that prospect was, she suspected it would only lead to further frustration on her part.
Dan had prepared omelets and biscuits for their brunch. Lindsey poured orange juice and filled coffee cups while he set the food and condiments on the table. They made a good team, she thought wistfully. Almost as if they’d been making breakfast together for a long time.
“This looks great,” she said, trying to distract herself.
“I hope it tastes that way.” He held her chair for her. “Will you sit now?”
“Yes.” She slid into the chair and smiled at him. “Thank you, sir.”
Did he linger there just a bit longer than necessary? She couldn’t read his face when he stepped away. She only wished he hadn’t been in such a hurry to move out of reach.
To Dan’s relief the food did taste as good as it looked. His phone rang twice during the meal. Both times he gave Lindsey an apologetic look, answered and dealt swiftly with the business on the other end of the line.
“I’m sorry,” he said after disconnecting the second call. “I really can’t turn off the phone.”
“Nor would I expect you to,” she answered promptly. “I certainly don’t mind you doing your job, Dan.”
He gave a grim, humorless smile. “Melanie went ballistic every time I got a call when I was off duty. She always took it personally.”
The sudden silence from the other side of the table made him abruptly aware of what he’d just said. It was the first time in two and a half years he’d mentioned his ex-wife’s name. He didn’t know why he’d suddenly brought her up now, but he sincerely wished he hadn’t.
“Yeah, well, I’m not Melanie,” Lindsey said gruffly, keeping her gaze on her plate. “Actually, I’m surprised my own phone hasn’t been ringing off the hook.”
He cleared his throat. Something about the sound must have implied guilt, because she looked up at him suspiciously and said, “What?”
“I turned your phone ringer off,” he confessed. “Your machine’s picking up calls.”
She sat back in her chair and raised her eyebrows at him. “You turned off my phone?”
“I wanted you to sleep as long as you could.”
Before she could say anything, he held up both hands. “I know. It was a very
arrogant and high-handed thing for me to do, and I should have consulted you first.”
“Actually, I was going to say thank you,” she startled him by saying mildly. She reached for her coffee cup. “I needed the sleep. I’ll check messages and return calls later.”
He regarded her warily. “No lecture about how you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself?”
“I am, of course. But I can accept an occasional thoughtful gesture.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He finished his meal and drained his coffee cup. “I’ll clean up in here while you check your messages, if you want. Don’t let anyone convince you to go to work today, though. Dr. Frank said you should take a day or two to recover from the jolt you took.”
“I heard him,” she reminded him. At least she didn’t waste her breath trying to argue with him about cleaning the kitchen. She’d probably figured out by now that she wasn’t going to change his mind about taking care of her today.
From what he overheard as he cleaned the kitchen, Lindsey’s calls were all from friends who had learned she’d been injured and wanted to check on her. He heard her return a few, then reset the machine. By that time he had finished the kitchen and joined her in the den.
She looked suspiciously at the glass of water he carried and the pill he held out in his other palm. “Time for your medicine,” he informed her. “It’s been six hours since you last had one.”
“It says every six hours as needed for pain. I don’t need it right now.”
“Dr. Frank said you should take them every six hours today to stay ahead of the discomfort. He said it might keep you from being too sore to get around tomorrow.”
“But—”
He sighed gustily and sat on the couch beside her, holding out the water and the medication. “Lindsey. Take the damned pill.”
Her own sigh was just as heavy as his, but she finally accepted the pill. “I’m only letting you get away with giving me orders today because I know you’re trying to be nice,” she muttered. “But I’m giving you notice that I’m very close to putting an end to it, regardless of your motives.”
“Message received.” He watched in satisfaction as she swallowed the pill. He wondered if she’d noticed he’d made no promises that he would stop giving orders, especially if he considered them for her own good. He suspected she had noticed.
She set the empty water glass on the end table beside her. “You really shouldn’t feel obligated to stay with me all day. I know you’re anxious to get back to work. If I need anything, there are quite a few people who urged me to call.”
He glanced at his watch, then toward the front door. And then he looked back at her, his gaze lingering on her bandaged temple. “I can hang around for a while yet—just to make sure you’re okay.”
Smiling gently, she lifted a hand to his face. “I’m fine,” she said, speaking very slowly. “I’ve had a nap, a shower, a good meal and two pain pills. As touched as I am by your thoughtfulness, you have an arsonist to catch. Go do what you have to do.”
The feel of her soft hand against his face broke something loose inside him. He caught her fingers in his and pulled her hand around to his mouth. He dropped a kiss in her palm, then closed her fingers around it, keeping her folded hand in his. “When I saw that wall explode around you this morning—”
He had to stop to clear his throat. “It really shook me,” he said finally, frustrated by the massive understatement. He could still picture that wall toppling, Lindsey going down, debris raining on her—and himself not able to even move to find out if she was all right. That moment of inaction—so unlike his usual quick responses—still loomed in his memory, seeming so much longer than real time had been. For the first time in his life he had understood the term paralyzed by fear.
“I didn’t mean to give you such a scare. If I’d had any idea anything like that could happen, I wouldn’t have been so close, I assure you.”
“Maybe next time you’ll use better judgment,” he growled.
“Now don’t spoil everything with another lecture. You were being so sweet.”
That made him frown. “I’m not sweet.”
“Not under normal circumstances,” she agreed amiably. “But you have been today. Even if it’s only because you care enough to worry about me, I appreciate it.”
“Of course I care,” he muttered, keeping his eyes on their clasped hands. “Hell, Lindsey, I’ve known you most of your life. The better part of mine, for that matter.”
Sitting very still, she hesitated a moment before asking, “Is that all there is between us, Dan? A long-time friendship?”
He considered his own words carefully before replying, “A very special friendship.”
She scooted just a bit closer to him, so that their thighs brushed. “How special?”
His whole body reacted to that light contact. “Lindsey…” His voice was gruff.
She wrinkled her nose—an expression that only made him want to kiss her more. “You always say my name in just that tone when I begin to make you nervous.”
“Sweetheart, lately you keep me shaking in my boots all the time,” he said ruefully.
The unguarded endearment brought a smile to her lips. “I’ve been told that it sometimes takes a figurative blow to the head to get some men’s attention. I was beginning to think I was going to have to resort to a two-by-four with you.”
Oh, she had his attention, all right. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she’d claimed it, but he’d hardly stopped thinking about her for the past three weeks. Even when he’d been fully occupied with other matters, thoughts of Lindsey had hovered at the back of his mind, waiting to reclaim his attention.
Despite all the times he had advised himself to resist his feelings for her, to discourage her attentions for her own good, all it took was for her to wrinkle her nose and smile at him—or to touch his face—and his willpower crumbled.
No, he couldn’t say when he’d first decided he wanted Lindsey Gray, but he was quite sure the wanting had only grown stronger since that point.
“Lindsey,” he began again, not certain what he meant to say afterward. His phone cut him off before he had a chance to decide.
He sighed and released Lindsey’s hand so he could retrieve the phone from his shirt pocket. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “You have work to do. Answer your call.”
Even as he spoke into the palm-size phone, he was struck again by how understanding she was about the demands of his job. He didn’t know how long her patience would hold out if they got more involved. As reluctant as he was to compare Lindsey to his ex-wife, he couldn’t help remembering how deeply Melanie had come to resent his job.
He enjoyed his work—but, more than that, he felt obligated to it. It wasn’t a predictable, nine-to-five, five-days-a-week career: lawbreakers didn’t exactly keep banker’s hours. The chief of police of a small, understaffed city didn’t have the luxury of making plans well in advance or expecting uninterrupted evenings or weekends. Sure, it was basically a quiet town with few crimes on the whole, giving him quite a bit of free time under normal circumstances, but neither he nor anyone else could predict when those circumstances would change—like now, with this unprecedented string of arsons.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said in response to the urgent request on the other end of the line, and disconnected the call to look at Lindsey. He watched her face as he said, “It looks like I’m going to have to leave for a little while.”
There wasn’t a trace of disapproval in her expression when she nodded and replied, “I understand. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing new,” he assured her. “I just need to make an appearance, I think.”
It was true, of course. He did feel the need to check in at work, especially at such a stressful time for his staff. But maybe he was also running—retreating again from a potentially explosive exchange with Lindsey.
Glancing at the bandage
on her temple, he felt like a heel for letting his cowardice reverse his resolve to take the day off and help her out today. “You’re sure you’ll be okay on your own for a little while? Maybe I should call someone to come sit with you—I bet Marjorie Schaffer would come. The diner’s closed by now.”
“Marjorie has other things to do, and I don’t need a baby-sitter,” Lindsey argued mildly. “I’ll be fine, Dan. Actually, that pain pill is making me a little sleepy. I’ll probably take a nap.”
“But—”
“If I need anything, I know your cell number,” she reminded him. “You’d come running if I called, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
“There you are, then. Go earn your salary and keep the mayor happy. And let me know if there are any new developments in either the arsons or Eddie Stamps’s disappearance, will you?”
“Sure.” Reluctantly, he stood. “You’ll call if you need me? Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
He was finding it surprisingly hard to leave her. “Do you need anything before I go? Some juice? Something else to eat?”
“I’m fine. Go.”
He leaned over, intending to brush a kiss across her bruised forehead. A nice, platonic, friendly, sympathetic gesture, he told himself. He didn’t know if she just happened to tilt her head at the right moment or if maybe his own aim was the culprit, but the kiss landed on her lips instead.
And lingered.
For a first real kiss in more than five years, it felt amazingly familiar. Their lips met smoothly, without awkwardness or fumbling, and the sense of sheer rightness was almost overwhelming. As was the rush of hunger that swiftly followed.
Her arms went up and around his neck. She tightened them just a little, as if to pull him down to her—and he almost went along. He could have had her beneath him easily enough, her body sinking into the soft cushions of the couch, his covering her…and, oh, man, did he want that…but he had work to do. At least, that made a safe, convenient excuse.
He still wasn’t convinced that being with Lindsey was wise—and he still didn’t know which of them was most in danger of being hurt if they tried and failed. But he was beginning to wonder if they had gone too far now to go back to the way things had been before.
