Read Online Cavanaugh Judgment by Marie Ferrarella - Free Book Online
Authors: Marie Ferrarella
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way to describe it. Chauvinistic could be another. “He is.”
There was only one conclusion to be drawn from that. “Then this might not sit too well with him.”
For the first time, Blake smiled and Greer caught herself noticing how his features instantly softened. He even looked somewhat boyish. That definitely wasn’t the impression she had when Kincannon wasn’t smiling. Then he looked strict and stern, like a man who was not to be crossed.
“No,” he agreed. “You’re right. It might not. I’d brace myself if I were you, Detective.” But even as he said it, his smile widened. “It just might turn out to be one hell of a bumpy ride.”
He probably thought that would make her ask to be taken off the assignment. You don’t know me, Judge . “I’ve had bumpy rides before.”
Kincannon didn’t offer an argument, just a smile, a different kind this time. One that said he had some sort of inside knowledge that she wasn’t privy to—yet. But she would. It was just a matter of time.
“We’ll see, Detective,” he said, an ominous promise in his voice. “We’ll see.”
“What are you doing home so early?” were Alexander Kincannon’s first words to his son when Blake walked into his two-story house fifteen minutes later.
Before Blake could say anything in response, Greer walked in behind him. The senior Kincannon, who was nearly as tall as his son and seemed to have a good twenty, thirty pounds on him, grinned knowingly.
“Oh, I see. Looks like I got my answer.” The words were directed at his son, but the ex-marine made absolutely no secret of the fact that he was staring at the woman beside Blake. The older man circled her as if to get the full effect. “Good to see you dating again, Blake. About time, too.” And then his grin became positively wicked. “Did you bring one for me?”
Blake glanced at his watch. It had taken his father all of thirty seconds to embarrass him.
“I’m not ‘dating again,’ Dad,” he answered, doing his best to remain patient with the man. He had no desire to lose his temper with his father in front of a stranger. For the most part, he was a private person. Far more private, apparently, than his father.
“Then who’s this?” Alexander wanted to know.
“‘This,’” Blake answered, using his father’s exact phrasing, “is Detective Greer O’Brien.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Our bodyguard.”
Sky-blue eyes beneath bushy gray eyebrows that resembled miniature tumbleweeds widened incredulously. “Bodyguard?” the ex-marine hooted. His message was clear. The practical joke that his son was obviously attempting to play had just fallen flat. “Yeah, right.” He turned toward the woman. His expression told her that he liked what he saw. “Who are you, really, honey?”
Honey. Greer knew she should have been offended to be addressed that way, but she had a feeling that the older man didn’t mean anything by it. In his generation, it was perfectly acceptable to address a young female that way. In a way, his manner was almost oddly endearing.
Maybe, she thought, because in a way, Kincannon’s father reminded her of her grandfather. Her mother’s father had been one of those grumpy old men with a heart of gold who existed in sitcoms and other people’s family trees. He had been in hers and she’d loved him dearly—they all had—from the moment she’d known him until the day he died. She was ten at the time and completely devastated over the loss.
“Exactly who your son says I am,” she told him. “Detective Greer O’Brien.” Greer put her hand out to the senior Kincannon. “I’ve been assigned to keep you and your son safe and out of harm’s way.”
Alexander eyed her hand without taking it. “And who’s going to keep you safe and out of harm’s way?” he asked gruffly.
Greer never hesitated. “You, sir. We can watch each other’s backs.”
The answer couldn’t have pleased Alexander more. He nodded his
There was only one conclusion to be drawn from that. “Then this might not sit too well with him.”
For the first time, Blake smiled and Greer caught herself noticing how his features instantly softened. He even looked somewhat boyish. That definitely wasn’t the impression she had when Kincannon wasn’t smiling. Then he looked strict and stern, like a man who was not to be crossed.
“No,” he agreed. “You’re right. It might not. I’d brace myself if I were you, Detective.” But even as he said it, his smile widened. “It just might turn out to be one hell of a bumpy ride.”
He probably thought that would make her ask to be taken off the assignment. You don’t know me, Judge . “I’ve had bumpy rides before.”
Kincannon didn’t offer an argument, just a smile, a different kind this time. One that said he had some sort of inside knowledge that she wasn’t privy to—yet. But she would. It was just a matter of time.
“We’ll see, Detective,” he said, an ominous promise in his voice. “We’ll see.”
“What are you doing home so early?” were Alexander Kincannon’s first words to his son when Blake walked into his two-story house fifteen minutes later.
Before Blake could say anything in response, Greer walked in behind him. The senior Kincannon, who was nearly as tall as his son and seemed to have a good twenty, thirty pounds on him, grinned knowingly.
“Oh, I see. Looks like I got my answer.” The words were directed at his son, but the ex-marine made absolutely no secret of the fact that he was staring at the woman beside Blake. The older man circled her as if to get the full effect. “Good to see you dating again, Blake. About time, too.” And then his grin became positively wicked. “Did you bring one for me?”
Blake glanced at his watch. It had taken his father all of thirty seconds to embarrass him.
“I’m not ‘dating again,’ Dad,” he answered, doing his best to remain patient with the man. He had no desire to lose his temper with his father in front of a stranger. For the most part, he was a private person. Far more private, apparently, than his father.
“Then who’s this?” Alexander wanted to know.
“‘This,’” Blake answered, using his father’s exact phrasing, “is Detective Greer O’Brien.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Our bodyguard.”
Sky-blue eyes beneath bushy gray eyebrows that resembled miniature tumbleweeds widened incredulously. “Bodyguard?” the ex-marine hooted. His message was clear. The practical joke that his son was obviously attempting to play had just fallen flat. “Yeah, right.” He turned toward the woman. His expression told her that he liked what he saw. “Who are you, really, honey?”
Honey. Greer knew she should have been offended to be addressed that way, but she had a feeling that the older man didn’t mean anything by it. In his generation, it was perfectly acceptable to address a young female that way. In a way, his manner was almost oddly endearing.
Maybe, she thought, because in a way, Kincannon’s father reminded her of her grandfather. Her mother’s father had been one of those grumpy old men with a heart of gold who existed in sitcoms and other people’s family trees. He had been in hers and she’d loved him dearly—they all had—from the moment she’d known him until the day he died. She was ten at the time and completely devastated over the loss.
“Exactly who your son says I am,” she told him. “Detective Greer O’Brien.” Greer put her hand out to the senior Kincannon. “I’ve been assigned to keep you and your son safe and out of harm’s way.”
Alexander eyed her hand without taking it. “And who’s going to keep you safe and out of harm’s way?” he asked gruffly.
Greer never hesitated. “You, sir. We can watch each other’s backs.”
The answer couldn’t have pleased Alexander more. He nodded his
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