pink nipples, and too depressed not to seek comfort in the memory of the taste of her bursting on his tongue.
He told himself it was just a kiss, but holy fuck, what a kiss. It was as if he’d been living with an eternal cold, which had rendered all food tasteless and odorless, and one small dose of Emily Cole had healed him.
He tugged a T-shirt over his head and zipped the fly of his blue jeans. Running late to meet up with Noah and Shea, he shoved his police uniform into his bag and headed for the station’s locker room exit.
At his computer, he logged out, capping off another red-letter day, highlighted by a domestic disturbance call at the Millers’ residence. When Luke had arrived at the couple’s home, the missus was en route to the hospital, having been beaten unconscious by the mister again. He arrested the husband, but hours later when the wife came to, she refused to press charges and he was forced to let the bastard go.
At his desk, Sloane held the phone to his ear. “What’s the address?” He scribbled on a pad of paper.
Luke didn’t like Justin Sloane. Hadn’t liked him from the first moment he’d met him when he hired in to the island department a few months ago. Luke quickly learned Sloane, the son of a judge, wore the uniform more to bolster his fragile ego than to serve the ideals of justice and order. Didn’t help he was hired to replace Anthony.
“We’ll send someone over to take a look.” Sloane banged the receiver into its cradle. “Sh-sh-shit, that was painful.”
Luke stilled. “What’s up?”
Sloane scratched his forehead with the eraser tip. “Just a broken-out window and a freaked-out homeowner.” He reached for the dispatch radio. “I’m gonna put Newberry on it.”
“You know what, I’ll take this one.” Luke kept his tone casual, in contrast to his thundering heart.
Sloane paused with his hand on the radio and regarded Luke with narrowed eyes. “Newberry can handle it.”
“I worked a vandalism case last month.” Luke rolled his shoulders. “Maybe there’s a connection. I should check it out, just to be sure.”
Sloane tore the sheet with Emily’s address from the notepad and handed it over. Luke snagged it and headed for the exit.
“Start with the neighbors,” Sloane called after him. “I bet one of them has a ten-year-old missing his baseball.”
Luke raised a hand. “I’ll do that.”
“H-h-have f-f-f-fun.”
Luke came to an abrupt stop. His hands balled into fists. It’d feel good to hit the prick. Damn good.
Slowly, he turned. “You think that’s funny?”
The greasy smile slid from Sloane’s lips. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Luke’s teeth ached with the effort to hold himself back.
What was he doing? He didn’t have time for Sloane.
Emily needed him.
Shards of broken glass sparkled in the sunlight as Emily dragged the broom across the hardwood floor and swept another pile of fragments into a dustpan. The sheer curtains danced in the breeze flowing freely through the fractured hole in the window.
A crunch of gravel carried to her from outside and she straightened to see the white SUV with dark green lettering roll to stop in front of the house. The engine fell quiet and Luke bounded from the vehicle.
Her heart did a backflip.
He rounded the vehicle, wearing ancient blue jeans and a black T-shirt, his attention riveted on the broken window.
She searched his face, wondering which Luke had come to her rescue. The easygoing charmer or the snarly grouch? She was still undecided when through the glass his focus shifted to her. His intense inspection of her face snatched the air from her lungs and she inhaled a slow, shaky breath.
He took the porch stairs two at a time and the sharp rap of the screen door snapping shut reached her ears a moment before he appeared beneath the living room archway.
His glittering green gaze touched over her and then swept through the room to take in the window, the spray of glass,
He told himself it was just a kiss, but holy fuck, what a kiss. It was as if he’d been living with an eternal cold, which had rendered all food tasteless and odorless, and one small dose of Emily Cole had healed him.
He tugged a T-shirt over his head and zipped the fly of his blue jeans. Running late to meet up with Noah and Shea, he shoved his police uniform into his bag and headed for the station’s locker room exit.
At his computer, he logged out, capping off another red-letter day, highlighted by a domestic disturbance call at the Millers’ residence. When Luke had arrived at the couple’s home, the missus was en route to the hospital, having been beaten unconscious by the mister again. He arrested the husband, but hours later when the wife came to, she refused to press charges and he was forced to let the bastard go.
At his desk, Sloane held the phone to his ear. “What’s the address?” He scribbled on a pad of paper.
Luke didn’t like Justin Sloane. Hadn’t liked him from the first moment he’d met him when he hired in to the island department a few months ago. Luke quickly learned Sloane, the son of a judge, wore the uniform more to bolster his fragile ego than to serve the ideals of justice and order. Didn’t help he was hired to replace Anthony.
“We’ll send someone over to take a look.” Sloane banged the receiver into its cradle. “Sh-sh-shit, that was painful.”
Luke stilled. “What’s up?”
Sloane scratched his forehead with the eraser tip. “Just a broken-out window and a freaked-out homeowner.” He reached for the dispatch radio. “I’m gonna put Newberry on it.”
“You know what, I’ll take this one.” Luke kept his tone casual, in contrast to his thundering heart.
Sloane paused with his hand on the radio and regarded Luke with narrowed eyes. “Newberry can handle it.”
“I worked a vandalism case last month.” Luke rolled his shoulders. “Maybe there’s a connection. I should check it out, just to be sure.”
Sloane tore the sheet with Emily’s address from the notepad and handed it over. Luke snagged it and headed for the exit.
“Start with the neighbors,” Sloane called after him. “I bet one of them has a ten-year-old missing his baseball.”
Luke raised a hand. “I’ll do that.”
“H-h-have f-f-f-fun.”
Luke came to an abrupt stop. His hands balled into fists. It’d feel good to hit the prick. Damn good.
Slowly, he turned. “You think that’s funny?”
The greasy smile slid from Sloane’s lips. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Luke’s teeth ached with the effort to hold himself back.
What was he doing? He didn’t have time for Sloane.
Emily needed him.
Shards of broken glass sparkled in the sunlight as Emily dragged the broom across the hardwood floor and swept another pile of fragments into a dustpan. The sheer curtains danced in the breeze flowing freely through the fractured hole in the window.
A crunch of gravel carried to her from outside and she straightened to see the white SUV with dark green lettering roll to stop in front of the house. The engine fell quiet and Luke bounded from the vehicle.
Her heart did a backflip.
He rounded the vehicle, wearing ancient blue jeans and a black T-shirt, his attention riveted on the broken window.
She searched his face, wondering which Luke had come to her rescue. The easygoing charmer or the snarly grouch? She was still undecided when through the glass his focus shifted to her. His intense inspection of her face snatched the air from her lungs and she inhaled a slow, shaky breath.
He took the porch stairs two at a time and the sharp rap of the screen door snapping shut reached her ears a moment before he appeared beneath the living room archway.
His glittering green gaze touched over her and then swept through the room to take in the window, the spray of glass,
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