The Lawman's Convenient Bride

by Christine Rimmer

  “And you met Nicky...”

  “Yes, I met Nick.”

  “No one since that night with him?”

  She met his eyes steady-on. “No one. Somehow, I always get it wrong, romance-wise, and I’ve kind of made peace with that. I’ve got Marybeth now. She and I are a family.”

  He resisted the urge to correct her, to say that he was part of her family, too. He wasn’t. Right now, they were connected through Marybeth. Right now, they were friends. As she and Nicky had been.

  Seth wanted more. How to get her to give him more, that was the question.

  Jody said, “So. Now you know way too much about me. And I still don’t really understand what happened in Chicago, how you lost Irene.”

  Irene. No way did he want to talk about Irene. Ever.

  But if he wanted a chance for a future with Jody, he was going to have to answer her questions, lay it out for her, say what had happened and how.

  He admitted, “I don’t even know where to start.”

  Jody reached out and touched his shoulder, a little pat of reassurance. He wanted to grab her fingers, pull her toward him, hold on tight and not let go. But then she took her hand back and wrapped it around her pillow. “Tell me about her. Just start with the easy stuff. Was she tall? Petite?”

  “Tall,” he said. “Irene was tall, with black hair and eyes to match...” His voice deserted him.

  Jody helped him out again. “Serious? Playful? Intellectual? Shy?”

  “She could talk to anyone. She was outgoing. And happy, a happy person.” Something had eased inside him. It wasn’t such a hard thing, to talk about her, about the woman who had been everything to him.

  “What kind of work did she do?”

  “Irene ran a diner called the Olympia. She’d pretty much grown up there, she and her older sister. But by the time I met her, she was running the diner alone. She couldn’t stand to see anyone hungry. I used to tease her that she gave away more meals than she sold.”

  “She was generous.”

  “Yeah. Generous to a fault. Her mom had died when she was sixteen, and once her mom was gone, her dad started drinking too much. The older sister got married and moved to Kansas City, so Irene took over the diner. Then her dad died, and she was on her own. The Olympia was two blocks from Chicago Lawn Station, where I worked. That’s how I met her. I went in for a ham on rye with mustard, and it was love at first sight.”

  “Really?” Jody was smiling. “You. In love at first sight...”

  He offered a shrug, muttered, “What can I tell you?”

  “More. Just...more.”

  “I asked her out.”

  “And?”

  “She said yes. Six months later, I asked her to marry me. She said yes to that, too. I was the happiest man alive. We were planning a June wedding. She gave up her apartment and I gave up mine, and we got a larger one together. I was about to make detective, and life couldn’t have been better...”

  Jody asked, “Did she ever come to Colorado?”

  He shook his head. “No. We kept planning a visit. But somehow, it never quite worked out that we could both get away at the same time.” They should have made time; he saw that now. Because you never know when you’re going to end up out of time.

  “And then?” Jody softly prompted.

  All of a sudden, his throat felt like he had something stuck in it. He coughed into his hand to loosen the tightness. “It was a Friday morning in April. I was off-duty, and Irene’s head waitress was opening the diner for her. It was raining, a sleety, slushy kind of rain. And we were out of coffee. I said I’d make a run to the corner store. She wanted to go with me. So we went together, sharing her umbrella, running through the freezing rain...”

  Irene had been laughing, he remembered, when he pulled open the door for her. She had a great laugh, full out and full of life, and there were drops of rain caught in her black hair as she lowered her umbrella.

  “Seth?” Jody was waiting.

  He got on with it. “There was a guy. A guy in a Dracula mask holding a .38 on the woman behind the counter.” A soft gasp escaped Jody. And suddenly, the words were surging in him, pushing to get out. He couldn’t get it over with fast enough now. “I saw what was happening as the guy turned and pointed the revolver at Irene. I shouted, ‘Down, Irene!’ The guy in the mask swung the gun on me, which was exactly what I wanted him to do. I had my service weapon in a shoulder holster under my jacket. It wasn’t the greatest neighborhood, and people knew I was with CPD, so I was in the habit of carrying even in civilian clothes. He turned on me and I went for my weapon, knowing I would probably take a hit, but with a minimum of luck I could get in a good shot even if I went down. But Irene. Irene didn’t get down. She cried out, ‘No!’ and she threw herself in front of me.”

  Jody made a strangled sound. And once again, the words had backed up in his throat.

  He had to force himself to finish it. “The shot stopped her heart. She died giving me just enough time to pull my weapon and kill that sucker as the woman behind the counter pulled hers and shot him, too.”

  “Oh, Seth.” Jody clutched her pillow, eyes wet and glittering, tear tracks down her cheeks.

  “She was...everything. My life.” The words sliced like razor blades in his throat.

  It made him furious. Furious and sick at heart, to remember. Looking back, he could see all those separate moments that had led to her death. All the seemingly meaningless decisions that he might have made differently. If he’d bought coffee the night before. If he’d insisted on going to the corner store alone. If he’d entered the store first, if he’d pushed her down instead of telling her to get down.

  Jody was watching him. And she knew him well enough now to get where his mind was tracking. “It wasn’t your fault. Objectively, you know that. Right?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “That’s a lie. Come here.”

  He regarded her warily. “Why?”

  “Because I want to hug you. I want to grab you and hold you and tell you it will be all right.”

  What possible good could a hug do? “But it’s not all right.”

  “I can see that.” She just kept watching him from her end of the couch.

  And then he was moving, scooting her way, not even knowing he would go to her until he was halfway there. She held out her arms, and he went into them, into her softness, into the scent of her light, fresh perfume and a hint of vanilla from the baby lotion. Twining those slim arms around his neck, she guided his head down into the crook of her shoulder.

  It felt good there, in her arms. It felt right. She stroked her fingers through his short hair. He let out a long breath and gathered her closer.

  What was it about her? The feel of her body drained the tension right out of him. He could hold her forever.

  Hold her, and more.

  She stirred him, always had, he realized now. It was partly that cool way she looked at a man, that stubborn streak that rubbed him all wrong at the same time as it excited him. From the first time he noticed her, late last summer when she and Nicky became friends, he’d felt the pull toward her.

  And resented it powerfully.

  Now he didn’t have to resent his desire for her. Now he had plans for her and for him and for Marybeth’s future. Now it was only fitting, only right, that he should want this contrary woman.

  But then she framed his face between her soft hands and made him look at her. “I’m not buying your crap, Seth.” She gazed way too deeply into his eyes. “It does matter that you know Irene’s death wasn’t your fault. If you blame yourself, you need to stop. Blaming yourself for something you didn’t do is really bad for you, for your spirit. For your heart. For your soul.”

  How did she do it? The woman could stir his anger as easily as soothe hi
m. He took her by the waist and pushed himself back from her, retreating to his end of the couch, where he glared at her and she stared right back at him, refusing to let him intimidate her.

  Finally, he gave it up. “All right. It wasn’t my fault. Happy now?” It was a taunt, pure and simple.

  But Jody refused to be baited. “After a story like that, it would be pretty hard to feel happy. But I’m glad you told me. You’ve let me know you a little better, and that’s good.” She caught her plump lower lip between her teeth, and her eyes were deep as oceans. “Seth, I hate that you lost her. I really do.”

  He didn’t need anyone’s pity—nor did he deserve it. “I didn’t protect her.”

  “Keep talking like that.” Her voice had gone flat. “I’ll hit you with my pillow again.”

  “It’s a fact. I didn’t.”

  She puffed out her cheeks with a hard breath. “On second thought, I won’t hit you. I don’t need to. You’re doing a great job of beating yourself up all on your own.”

  Okay, so she had a point. There was nothing to be gained by getting bogged down in placing blame and should-have-beens. “Let me try again. I do know it wasn’t my fault. But that doesn’t change the fact that Irene died for me, and I’m not okay with that. I’ll never be okay with that.”

  * * *

  Later that night, sitting in her comfy recliner by the window nursing her baby, Jody couldn’t help dwelling on what Seth had told her.

  She’d wanted to know what had happened to Irene. Now she did. It didn’t feel all that great to know, actually.

  But it did help her to understand Seth better. She ached for what he’d suffered. And he couldn’t hide the fact that he wasn’t over his lost love yet—that Irene still owned his heart.

  Jody had to watch herself with him. She really needed not to go getting ideas about the two of them getting closer.

  He’d loved one woman, loved her completely. And he hadn’t been with anyone since that awful rainy morning in Chicago. He wasn’t going to suddenly decide to try again just because Jody might have foolishly developed a crush on him.

  They were friends. Friends united in the shared goal of giving Marybeth the best that life had to offer. Friends and only friends.

  She wouldn’t go getting her hopes up that there might be more.

  * * *

  Monday night at dinner, Seth said, “I got us a table at Mirabelle’s for seven Saturday night. Why don’t you call and set up your day at the spa for Saturday? And give me the limo voucher. I’ll call them and reserve a car for Saturday night.”

  “Mirabelle’s?” It was a new restaurant in town, a small, cozy place with white tablecloths and crystal chandeliers and a chef from New York. Everyone said the food was really good and the service impeccable.

  “I heard it was good,” he said. “Would you rather go somewhere else?”

  “I just didn’t know we were doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Going through with the date.”

  He set down his fork. “We’re doing it.” His voice was deep and rough, and his velvet-brown gaze caught hers and held it.

  It just wasn’t fair that the guy was so damn hot. Not happening, she reminded herself. Don’t get ideas. “What about Marybeth?”

  “It’s only a few hours. Get a sitter. Maybe one of your sisters or maybe your mom?”

  “Ma? Please.”

  “She did raise five children, didn’t she?”

  “She’s probably off on her next cruise already.”

  “A babysitter, Jody. I’m sure you can find one.”

  “But Marybeth is barely four weeks old.”

  “Jody. We’re going. Stop making excuses.”

  “And a day at the spa, too? I don’t have time for that.”

  He ate two bites of his pork chop before he spoke again. “I’ll look after Marybeth while you’re at the spa. But get a babysitter for Saturday night or I’ll get one for you. We’re going to Mirabelle’s.”

  She sagged back in her chair. “Why are you so determined about this?”

  “Because I want to take you out.”

  “But...you don’t go out, remember? There’s no point because it can’t go anywhere. Not to mention, I live in Broomtail County, and what if it got messy with me?”

  “Too late.” He was almost smiling. She could see that increasingly familiar twitch at the corner of his mouth. “It’s already messy with you.”

  “I am not joking, Seth.”

  “Neither am I. I want to be with you, Jody. And not just as a friend.”

  “B-but I...” God. She was sputtering. And why did she suddenly feel light as a breath of air, as if she was floating on moonbeams? “You want to be with me? But you don’t do that. You’ve made that very clear.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t do that. Until now. But things have changed.”

  “Because of Marybeth, you mean?”

  “Yeah, because of Marybeth. And because of you, too. Because of the way you are. Strong and honest and smart and so pretty. Because we’ve got something going on, you and me. Something good. I’m through pretending that we’re friends and nothing more. Are you telling me I’m the only one who feels that way?”

  “I just...” Her pulse raced and her cheeks felt too hot. She’d promised herself that nothing like this would happen, that she wouldn’t get her hopes up.

  She needed to be careful. She could end up with her heart in pieces all over again.

  “Jody, please go out with me Saturday.” He gazed across the table at her, so solid and manly and real. The guy who had come for her when she needed him, the man who’d had her back ever since the night her baby was born.

  “I...” Where were the words? She had no words.

  He pushed back his chair and came around the table toward her. When he reached her side, he held down his hand.

  Her heart had come all undone somehow. It bounced around in her chest like a rabbit on steroids. She put her hand in his. His big, hot fingers closed around her cool ones.

  And then he was pulling her up out of the chair. Her napkin drifted to the floor. She made no effort to catch it.

  He caught her face between his hands, the hands that had held hers when she was in labor, the hands that could always soothe Marybeth. She stared up at him, mesmerized, as his mouth came down to hers.

  His lips were soft. So warm. They felt like heaven on hers, brushing back and forth.

  And then settling. Claiming.

  She opened on a sigh and let the kiss deepen. His fingers trailed up to her temples, fingertips gently stroking into her hair.

  This. Oh, dear, sweet heaven. This.

  This was magic. So beautiful and right. And she wanted more of it. More of him. She’d taken two big chances in love and both times she’d lost out.

  But didn’t they all say that the third time’s the charm?

  What about Irene? warned that wary voice in her head. He’s still not over her.

  Maybe not. Maybe he would never get over Irene. Anything could happen. It could all go so wrong.

  But what if this time, it went right instead?

  She would never know what she might have had if she didn’t take a chance.

  “Jody...” He breathed her name against her mouth. “Say you’ll go out with me.”

  She wanted to. So much.

  And really, why not?

  Right now, at this moment, all he’d really asked for was that night out she’d won at the bachelor auction. One evening with just the two of them, no dirty diapers, no crying baby to distract them from each other. She didn’t have to make a big deal about it. She could just say she would go out with him, take things one step at a time.

  He took the kiss deep again, deeper th
an before. She opened and let him all the way in. His arms came around her, pressing her closer, flattening her breasts against the hard slab of his chest. The scent of him swam around her, so delicious, so right. His tongue explored the secret places beyond her parted lips.

  He made her feel cherished. And desired. He...why, he wanted her. He really did. The way he kissed her left no doubt on that score. Against her belly, she could feel his arousal. There was heat, real heat, between them. Heat and hunger, too.

  How long had it been for her, since a kiss felt this good?

  Too long, definitely.

  And beyond the building heat, there was the rest of it. The rest of them, of Jody and Seth, together. Because they were partners, she realized. And had been for a while now.

  Whatever happened in the future, their bond had been established in the birthing suite at Justice Creek General. And it had only grown stronger with every day that passed.

  You never knew how things would turn out. You could go to the corner store for coffee and lose it all.

  So as long as she was breathing, with strength in her body and hope in her heart, a woman needed to explore all the possibilities.

  He lifted his head and his eyes met hers. “Please, Jody. Come out with me.”

  “All right,” she said. “Mirabelle’s. Saturday night.”

  Chapter Eight

  Clara agreed to watch Marybeth that Saturday night. She came nice and early and listened attentively to each and every one of Jody’s detailed instructions concerning baby care.

  Jody knew she was overdoing it. Clara had a two-year-old of her own. She’d changed a thousand diapers and heated up more than one bottle of breast milk. Still, it was Marybeth’s first time with a sitter and the first time Jody had left her for an evening. Clara seemed to understand that Jody needed to tell her a bunch of stuff she already knew.

  At a quarter of seven, Seth herded Jody out the door toward the limo waiting at the curb. Clara stood in the doorway waving goodbye, a perfectly content Marybeth cradled in her arms.