Her Something Impetuous

by Hunt Harris, Kim

“Right now? Sure. That’d be great.” Just freaking-super-fantastic.

  “Will!” The concrete floor beneath her feet rumbled with the sound of Bear’s voice. Karen gasped.

  “That’s just the way he talks,” Will assured her. “Yes?” he called toward the front of the building.

  “Phone!”

  Will smiled crookedly. “Sorry. This’ll just take a second.”

  She went into room two and wandered around, chewing her lip. Was she really going to have to go through with this? The thing about being impetuous is that it’s usually over by the time good sense sets in. She’d had two days to think about the tattoo, and now it didn’t seem like such a grand idea. And too, after making out with Will it seemed inappropriate somehow, having him look at her butt.

  She tiptoed to the door and looked toward the front of the building, her mind racing for a way to get out of this graciously. She heard something behind her and turned to see a leggy blonde with a skirt cut up to there, standing beside Will’s desk.

  “Ummm…who – who, yes…can I help you?”

  The blonde smiled. A few thousand dollars worth of dental work wouldn’t hurt her any, Karen thought uncharitably

  “Just visiting an old friend,” the girl said. “Have you seen the guy who owns this place?”

  “Will?”

  “Yeah, that's the guy.

  “I don’t know where he is.” Not for sure, anyway. Karen stepped into the hallway so she would block the girl’s view of the front of the store. How had she gotten back there? Did she have a key to the back door? Did she know Will that well? Evidently not; she couldn’t recall his name until Karen said it.

  “That’s okay, he can find this when he comes in.”

  Karen crossed her arms and lifted her nose. “I'll be sure to tell him.” Of course she would. She had no reason not to. It wasn’t any of her business, what sort of person Will associated with. But…did the girl have to have such obnoxiously long legs?

  The blonde nodded. “Sure, no problem. He's expecting it. Gotta go.” She reached into the waistband of her obscenely short skirt and pulled out a white box, dropping it onto Will's desk. She waggled her fingers at Karen. “Have a good night. Give Willie my best.” She winked, then laughed and ducked out the back door.

  Well. Karen drew her head back. Willie?

  He didn't seem like the Willie sort. But then, she'd known him approximately forty-eight hours and during that time he'd managed to get her taken to jail, had his tongue down her throat and his hand up her shirt. Maybe he was the Willie sort. Maybe she was just an idiot who should get her butt home and bake her Hallelujah muffins.

  She wasn’t going to look at the white box the girl had brought. She had no reason to. But it wasn’t her fault that the box just happened to be right beside her purse on Will’s desk. And she needed her purse. That was totally legitimate.

  She crossed the office and picked up her purse, opening it to make sure everything was still in it. She didn’t suspect Will of anything, but still…if people like that girl could just walk in from the alley…

  It was all there. Wallet, checkbook, little tin of Carmex. Receipts from the grocery store she needed to throw away.

  Her gaze landed again on the small white box. What could it be? The blonde didn’t look like the type to be bringing Will home baked goodies. Maybe some other kind of goodies…

  But…it really wasn’t any of her business. She picked up the box and smelled it. Was it some kind of weird sex thing? She had no clue what kind of weird sex thing, but still…

  She heard footsteps behind her. “Ready?”

  She jumped. The box dropped out of her hands and into her purse. “Sure! Ready.” Damn.

  “Abso-frigging-lutely?”

  “Huh?” She blinked, then laughed too hard. “Oh. Yeah. Abso-frigging-lutely.”

  “Look, if you’re nervous we can just sit and talk for while.”

  “I’m not nervous!” Hell. She’d practically shouted that at him. She wasn’t nervous about the tattoo, though. Not anymore, since she was holding a box that may or may not be from his secret lover who was really none of her business.

  “Okay then, let’s do it.”

  He put his hand on the small of her back and her knees went soft.

  Will led her back to room two and motioned toward the plastic bucket full of sanitized sheets. “You can go ahead and pull your jeans down.” He turned toward a tray with his bewildering array of tools. “I promise not to peek.”

  Now was her chance to get rid of the box. Where should she put it? She looked around the room.

  Damn, but Will kept a tidy ship. She saw shelves, but they were almost bare. No place that would hide the box. She looked under the table, but it was wide-open space.

  “So, has your daughter forgiven you for the other night?”

  Karen jumped. “Hmm? Oh, yeah. I mean, no, she hasn’t. She will, though. Or not.” She looked over her shoulder to see him turning.

  She whipped around and tucked the box back into her purse. “You promised you wouldn't peek.”

  “I’m a pathological liar. Very unprofessional of me.” He frowned. “But you're still dressed.”

  “I know. I just keep thinking about…” She looked at the corner of his mouth tipped up, his piercing blue eyes that waited for her to continue. “I keep thinking about the other night. You and me.” That much was true.

  In a flash he was in front of her, his hand on her arm. “Me too. God. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.” He bent his head and kissed her, quickly but with an intensity that stole her breath. “I'm glad you came back. I thought after the way you took off last night that maybe you weren't…”

  “Oh, I was.” Whatever that meant. “I really was. I came back, didn't I?”

  “You needed your purse.”

  “Sucker. You actually fell for that?” She forgot about the box and concentrated on the lips. God, he was amazing.

  Will grinned that wicked grin and leaned to shut the door. As it latched he turned back and pressed her against the table. “I'm glad you're alright.”

  “Of course I'm alright.”

  He touched her nose. “It looks like the swelling has gone down some.”

  “Please don't start on this again.”

  “I'm not starting. I just want you to know you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  “I'm not worried about him now. Now please, shut up and kiss me.” She palmed the back of his head and drew him down.

  His lips covered hers softly, and she moaned as he deepened the kiss. No, she hadn't imagined that kiss. She hadn’t imagined those magical lips and the feel of that soft beard and mustache against her skin, the tickle of it against her nose, the warmth of his hands.

  She slid her hands up Will's back. She'd forgotten how good a man's body felt under her hands. The firm bulge of a man's biceps and shoulders, warm and solid and pulsing with strength.

  “Is there a lock on that door?” Karen murmured as Will moved to nuzzle her neck.

  “No, but no one will come in.” He nibbled at her ear. “You smell great.”

  “Essence of Midnight, thank you very much Tonya. Do that some more.”

  He laughed and lightly bit her neck. “Liked that, did you? Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her onto the table.

  She opened her knees and let him step inside. They weren't going to do anything, she decided. Just make out a little. There was no crime in that, right?

  “Police! Everyone get your hands up where we can see them!”

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Will growled as he poked his head out the door.

  “Everyone in the front room.” A police officer rapped his club against the door of room one.

  Will turned back to Karen. “Sorry. Stay here.”

  He met the officer in the hallway. “What's this about?”

  “Are you the owner?”

  “I am. What’s going on now?”
<
br />   “Stand over here, please. We’ll keep you informed.”

  “I'm not going to stand anywhere until I find out why you're here.”

  “Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to cooperate or we'll have to restrain you. Are there any others in the back?”

  “Any other what? Innocent victims of police harassment?”

  Another cop stepped up to Will and put his hands on his belt. He was a skinny-chested guy with a haircut so fresh Will could see clipper marks. “Sir, you need to stand right here.” He stared at Will until Will stepped where the guy pointed.

  “You guys were just here two nights ago. There's nothing here.”

  Two more officers entered the front door. One of them led a German Shepherd on a leash.

  “No animals allowed in here,” Will said. He could not believe this was happening. Not again. And not with Karen here.

  He gave up hoping they would go away. He didn't want one of the cops to drag Karen out of the room. He moved in that direction.

  “Sir, I need you to stand right where you are.” The skinny-chested cop stepped into Will's path.

  “There's a customer in room two. I want to be bring her out here.”

  “Don't worry, we'll get her out.”

  “That's what I'm worried about.”

  But Karen wasn’t in room two. He checked down the hall, and saw her in the back office, by his desk.

  “I’m sorry, but –”

  She whirled around, her eyes wide. She held a small white box. “What?”

  Chicken-chest entered the room, leading the dog. “I’ll need everyone to remain still for a few minutes. Bjorn doesn’t like sudden movements.”

  “Look, there’s nothing here. Just – just do what you have to do and…” He frowned as the dog sniffed his way past Will and snuffled along the edge of the desk. “Just get this over with –”

  Bjorn barked loud enough to make Will jump. The dog barked again, then sat heavily in front of Karen.

  “Ma’am, please hand me that box.”

  “What box?” She backed against the table and stared at the dog. “Does he bite?”

  “The box you just put in your purse. Hand it to me, please.”

  “No, I don’t believe I will.”

  The dog shifted, his entire body thrumming with controlled energy.

  “Karen, what’s going on?” Will took a step toward her.

  Chicken-chest stepped up and put one hand on the baton at his waist. “Please step back, sir. Ma’am, hand me the box.”

  Karen frowned and pulled the box out of her purse. “It’s not mine.”

  The dog barked again when he saw the box. Karen flinched and glared at him. “You hush. It’s not mine.”

  Chicken-chest opened the box and pulled out a plastic bag full of small white pieces of broken chalk.

  Except it wasn’t chalk, of course. Will knew that as soon as he saw it. Karen had been about to put a box of crack on his desk.

  Spots danced in front of his eyes, and he felt a weird sense of déjà vu.

  He looked at Karen. Her face was white and her mouth open. Her knees buckled and she sank against the desk, staring at the plastic bag. “What is that? Is that – I’ve sent that on COPS. Is that - ?”

  Chicken-chest shouted to bring his buddies from the front of the store, then reached for the handcuffs at his waist. “I’m going to place you under arrest for possession of an illegal narcotic.”

  “But it isn’t mine!” Karen said, looking terrified.

  “Really?” Chicken-chest sounded less than intrigued. “Whose is it?”

  Karen whipped around and pointed at Will. “It’s his.”

  Karen tried to tell herself that this was just another adventure and everything would be okay. But her stomach wasn't buying it. Her stomach, in fact, promised to lose her lunch in the back of the patrol car.

  Surely no one would really believe that little white box was hers. Surely. She was a mother. She was a business owner. She was supposed to be making Hallelujah muffins for the Rockridge Neighborhood Association Box Lunch right now. She couldn't possibly be a crack addict.

  Oh God. She clutched her stomach and leaned over.

  “Are you okay back there? You're not going to puke in my car, are you?”

  Karen lifted her head and met the officer's eyes in the mirror. “Probably not.”

  “Probably's not good enough for me. If you're going to hurl you'd better let me know so I can pull over. The smell of vomit takes forever to get out.”

  “I'll do my best.” She took shallow breaths and tried to decide who to call first. Cait needed to be picked up from band practice and taken to Michael’s to spend the night, but she sure as hell wasn't going to call Michael from the police station and ask him to do it. Which meant she'd have to call Terri. Did she really only get one phone call? Maybe Terri could call her lawyer for her? But who? Her divorce lawyer? She hardly thought he was the right one for this.

  Drug possession. Holy shit. She clutched her stomach and leaned over again.

  The patrol car swerved into the parking lot of the police station and the cop jumped out. “Okay, come on. Let's get you out into the open.”

  “This is all a mistake, you know,” she said as he led her into the holding area.

  He ignored her. He probably heard that all the time. But this time it was true.

  “Am I going to be arrested? Fingerprinted? Thrown in the clink?”

  He led her down a different hallway into another room almost identical to the one she'd been in two nights ago. When it had only been embarrassing. Not terrifying. She had to sit there for ten petrifying minutes before a guy in a sport shirt and tie came in.

  “I’m Detective Jordan.” He pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “Why don't we start with you telling me how you came to have rock cocaine in your purse.” He put his hands on the table and raised his eyebrows.

  “It's kind of funny, really.”

  He smiled, as if he absolutely could not wait to hear this knee-slapper.

  “I was at Under the Inkfluence. I left my purse there the other night, and I went back to pick it up. It was on the desk in the back.”

  “Mr. Corcoran’s desk?”

  “I assume it was his. He's the owner, and it was the only desk back there.”

  “Go on.”

  “This girl came in the back door while I was back there getting my purse.”

  “Was anyone else with you?”

  “No, it was just me. And her.”

  “Where was the owner?”

  “He'd gone up to the front to take a phone call.”

  “I see.”

  “And I saw my purse on his desk and I went back to get it.”

  “That's when the girl came in?”

  “She was already there.” See. This wasn't so hard. Just tell the truth and everything would be fine.

  “Did she have a key?”

  “I don't know. I didn't see her use one.”

  “Do you know if the door was locked?”

  “I don't know. I'm sorry.”

  “That's okay. Tell me what happened then.”

  “She asked if the owner was there.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “I told her he was up front on the phone. Then she took that box out of her skirt, she had it tucked in the waistband of her skirt, and she took it out and laid it on his desk. She said, 'Just a little delivery for him. He's expecting it’.”

  “He's expecting it?”

  “Yes. No. I mean I'm sure he wasn't really expecting her to leave crack cocaine for him. That's part of the mistake.” She remembered the look on his face when she’d pointed to him and told the police the box was his. Shock and betrayal. Then fury as he was handcuffed and put into the other patrol car.

  She was a traitor. A coward. She’d panicked and the first thing she’d done was throw the blame at him, like a high-stakes game of hot potato. God, she would hate to be the one who was counting on her to be
in their corner.

  “I still haven't heard how the box got into your purse.”

  “Well…that's the funny part.” She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “See, she left, and I was just going to get my purse, but I was…curious about the box. So I picked it up.”

  “You picked it up?”

  “Right. I shouldn’t have, I know. That wasn't mine and I should never have even looked at it.” She gave him a contrite look, in case it would help. “But I was curious, so I picked it up and looked at it. Turned it over, you know, to see if I could tell what it was. Then Will came in.”

  “Will Corcoran, the owner of Under the Inkfluence?”

  “Right. He came in, and I jumped because I felt guilty, you know, for being so nosy, and I dropped the box in my purse by accident.”

  “By accident.”

  “I swear. I just jumped and it fell out of my hands and my purse was right there and…isn't that funny?”

  He didn't exactly break into gales of laughter. “And you didn't take it out because…”

  “Because how could I explain that? He would think it was from me, and I had no idea what was in it. I started to tell him it was from me, actually, but then what if it was some weird sex thing and he thought…” She shrugged. “And I didn't want to admit to him that I'd been nosing through his personal stuff. So I didn't say anything. I thought I'd find a way to get it back on his desk later. And that’s what I was doing, when Bjorn stuck his big nose in the middle of things.”

  The detective took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat.

  “Um…do you believe me?”

  “Should I?”

  “Absolutely. I'm telling the truth. Do you want to give me a polygraph?”

  “I doubt that will be necessary.” He tapped his hands on the table and looked at her, as if contemplating something.

  Silence stretched between them, and Karen chewed her lip. Was she supposed to say something now? What happened next? Would she be fitted for one of those orange jumpsuits? Or should she just say, “Thanks for talking to me,” get up, and go?

  “Umm…am I free to go?”

  He took a noisy breath in through his nose and tapped his fingers again. “For now. We’ll present this to the D.A., and after that you’ll be notified when or if you’ll need to appear in court.”