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Authors: Alana Matthews
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freedom.
But seeing him walk into her living room had changed everything. Seeing him look down at Chloe and smile, hearing him tell her how beautiful Chloe was, had made her realize that the choice she’d made might very well have been the wrong one. That it wasn’t fair to Rafe.
Or to Chloe.
But after more than three years, how could she possibly break the news to him? She couldn’t simply blurt out, “Oh, by the way, Chloe is yours.”
She had to find the right moment.
The perfect moment.
But when, she wondered, would that be?
* * *
“S O TELL ME ABOUT that hunk of a deputy,” Bea said.
She had awakened an hour later in a much better mood. Had poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, where Lisa was staring forlornly at a bowl of fruit and yogurt.
“He’s just a guy I knew in college,” Lisa said, trying to downplay the relationship. Bea had no idea that Chloe was that “hunk” of a deputy’s baby. Nobody did.
Bea grinned. “ Knew? As in the biblical sense?”
It was just like the woman to get straight to the point. Lisa didn’t bother to respond, but she felt her face grow warm and Bea’s grin widened.
“Atta girl, Leese. Believe me, if I were forty years younger, that’s one piece of man-candy I wouldn’t mind taking a tumble with.”
“That was a long time ago,” Lisa said.
“Oh, who cares. At least you’ve got the memory. And I’ll bet he was pretty memorable, too.”
Lisa felt a smile coming on and tried but failed to stifle it. “I won’t deny we were pretty good together.”
“Well,” Bea said, “he seemed happy to see you, and I noticed he didn’t have a ring on his finger.”
Lisa had to admit that she’d noticed, too. And the moment she did, she had experienced an inexplicable feeling of relief, and maybe a little hope. But then her mother—who was a virulently unhappy woman—had always said that hope was for dreamers.
Besides, Lisa wasn’t interested in trapping Rafe now any more than she had been after college.
“I’m not looking to get married again,” she said to Bea. “Not after this last disaster.”
“Well, I can’t blame you for that. But don’t let one nasty apple spoil the entire barrel for you. Besides, I’ve got a feeling Deputy Studly will keep to his promise and do a little damage repair on your behalf.”
“And what if it doesn’t stick?” Lisa asked.
“Then you do what you should’ve done in the first place and file charges against that no-good ex of yours.”
“And what if that doesn’t stick, either?”
“Then I guess Mr. Oliver Sloan’ll find out just how good of a shot I really am...”
Chapter Eleven
“I don’t think you realize just how dangerously close you are to getting yourself fired.”
Harold Pine was captain of the Patrol Division, a thirty-year veteran who hadn’t been in the field in more than half that time.
He sat behind his desk, his tailored uniform masking his considerable bulk. There was little he could do, however, about his slightly misshapen dome, which he regularly shaved bald in an attempt to look slick—an attempt that failed on many different levels.
Rafe shifted in the chair in front of Pine’s desk. “I was just doing my job,” he said. Which wasn’t strictly true, since Lisa hadn’t filed a complaint against Sloan.
“Your job?” Pine barked. “Your job is to follow protocol. Nothing more, nothing less.”
After calling for backup at Sloan’s hotel suite, Rafe had done a quick sweep of the rooms and found another cache of cocaine, along with several tabs of what looked like ecstasy. But now Sloan’s girlfriend was claiming the drugs were hers, and his attorney was screaming illegal search and seizure, charging that Rafe had been in the hotel suite not on police business, but as a private citizen.
In other words, he had been trespassing and had no probable cause for the search. And to Rafe’s surprise, not only had the judge at the morning arraignment
But seeing him walk into her living room had changed everything. Seeing him look down at Chloe and smile, hearing him tell her how beautiful Chloe was, had made her realize that the choice she’d made might very well have been the wrong one. That it wasn’t fair to Rafe.
Or to Chloe.
But after more than three years, how could she possibly break the news to him? She couldn’t simply blurt out, “Oh, by the way, Chloe is yours.”
She had to find the right moment.
The perfect moment.
But when, she wondered, would that be?
* * *
“S O TELL ME ABOUT that hunk of a deputy,” Bea said.
She had awakened an hour later in a much better mood. Had poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, where Lisa was staring forlornly at a bowl of fruit and yogurt.
“He’s just a guy I knew in college,” Lisa said, trying to downplay the relationship. Bea had no idea that Chloe was that “hunk” of a deputy’s baby. Nobody did.
Bea grinned. “ Knew? As in the biblical sense?”
It was just like the woman to get straight to the point. Lisa didn’t bother to respond, but she felt her face grow warm and Bea’s grin widened.
“Atta girl, Leese. Believe me, if I were forty years younger, that’s one piece of man-candy I wouldn’t mind taking a tumble with.”
“That was a long time ago,” Lisa said.
“Oh, who cares. At least you’ve got the memory. And I’ll bet he was pretty memorable, too.”
Lisa felt a smile coming on and tried but failed to stifle it. “I won’t deny we were pretty good together.”
“Well,” Bea said, “he seemed happy to see you, and I noticed he didn’t have a ring on his finger.”
Lisa had to admit that she’d noticed, too. And the moment she did, she had experienced an inexplicable feeling of relief, and maybe a little hope. But then her mother—who was a virulently unhappy woman—had always said that hope was for dreamers.
Besides, Lisa wasn’t interested in trapping Rafe now any more than she had been after college.
“I’m not looking to get married again,” she said to Bea. “Not after this last disaster.”
“Well, I can’t blame you for that. But don’t let one nasty apple spoil the entire barrel for you. Besides, I’ve got a feeling Deputy Studly will keep to his promise and do a little damage repair on your behalf.”
“And what if it doesn’t stick?” Lisa asked.
“Then you do what you should’ve done in the first place and file charges against that no-good ex of yours.”
“And what if that doesn’t stick, either?”
“Then I guess Mr. Oliver Sloan’ll find out just how good of a shot I really am...”
Chapter Eleven
“I don’t think you realize just how dangerously close you are to getting yourself fired.”
Harold Pine was captain of the Patrol Division, a thirty-year veteran who hadn’t been in the field in more than half that time.
He sat behind his desk, his tailored uniform masking his considerable bulk. There was little he could do, however, about his slightly misshapen dome, which he regularly shaved bald in an attempt to look slick—an attempt that failed on many different levels.
Rafe shifted in the chair in front of Pine’s desk. “I was just doing my job,” he said. Which wasn’t strictly true, since Lisa hadn’t filed a complaint against Sloan.
“Your job?” Pine barked. “Your job is to follow protocol. Nothing more, nothing less.”
After calling for backup at Sloan’s hotel suite, Rafe had done a quick sweep of the rooms and found another cache of cocaine, along with several tabs of what looked like ecstasy. But now Sloan’s girlfriend was claiming the drugs were hers, and his attorney was screaming illegal search and seizure, charging that Rafe had been in the hotel suite not on police business, but as a private citizen.
In other words, he had been trespassing and had no probable cause for the search. And to Rafe’s surprise, not only had the judge at the morning arraignment
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