Beauty and the Chief (5 page)

His aggravation spiked and he didn’t try to temper it. “I’m sure your client can wait ten minutes.”

“It’s not a client.” She cut him off.

“Then your date,” he snapped back.

“It’s not a date.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go.”

“I need to discuss limiting who you see. Especially going out alone.”

“I assure you I’ll be cautious. I’m not a fool, but if you think I’m going to limit my business, it’s not going to happen. I’m just beginning to build my reputation. I can’t endanger that now. Besides, the picture isn’t that good, and they don’t have my name. He can’t know who I am. Also, I do plan on avoiding the park for a while. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She strode away, stopping long enough to grab her purse. “Nan, I’m leaving now. See you in the morning.” She called loud enough to carry to the back where the other woman had disappeared.

“Be careful.” Nan appeared from another alcove.

“I will. Why don’t you lock up now? Bye.” She turned back, pausing as Mark blocked her way. “Chief Richards?”

Mark got the feeling she was going to brush by him then she paused. “Thank you for coming and for your concern, but I assure you I’ll be fine on my own. But, if I do have a problem, I’ll let you know.”

Mark nodded, having to accept that. Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a card. “This has the number where I can always be reached.” He handed it to her. “Anytime.”

Jillian raised an eyebrow, nodding again as she turned from him, and he followed her out to a four-year-old, white compact. It was a nice, sensible car that got good gas mileage and top safety records. He approved of her choice in cars. Still, a frown clouded his features. He didn’t like her refusal to listen to him.

***

Mark was back to steaming by the time he entered his office. He should’ve known she was too good to be true. What was he thinking last night? That was why you shouldn’t get personally involved. Not that he was personally involved, but okay, he was interested. Was, being the definitive word.

She seemed so … sweet, innocent. Something about her drew him, but it was all a cheap facade that she donned like a mask to get help and attention. Luckily, the illusion crumbled before he made a major mistake, like actually asking her out.

He crumpled the paper in his hand and threw it across the room. She was just like his ex-wife, driven by image and power. What flaw was it in him that attracted him to that kind of women? Okay, so yes, he was attracted. She was beautiful. How could he miss that she was just an illusion with nothing solid and warm about her? You’d think that as many years as he’d been a police officer, he’d be better at seeing through lies.

He starred out the window at nothing.

“Chief.”

His name, said behind him, pulled him back from his reverie. “Yeah.” He turned to Andrew Hamilton standing in the doorway.

“We may have a problem.”

“What is it?” he asked while thinking. “Like I don’t have several problems already.”

“It seems that while you, Edward, and I were out of the station today our witness came in to sign her statement. They turned her over to Crocker.”

“He’s not on the case.”

“Yeah, well, we were out. Everyone else was busy. Anyway, Joey said she looked pretty upset when she left.”

Mark bit back a curse. “Why didn’t he take her?”

“He was tied up with the Simmons case. He’d just brought in the suspect, but he noticed our witness come in. You know − beautiful, kind of nervous, frightened. Hey, his words not mine.” Andrew lifted his hands, obviously reading that he was about to explode. “Anyway, he wanted to give us heads up that she looked more like a hostile witness when she stormed out.”

“Stormed out?”

Andrew nodded. “That’s a quote.”

“What else?” He saw the detective shift and grimace.

“That she looked like she was flaming and about to chew nails. He said she was spectacular.”

Mark bit back another curse which was something he seldom had to do. He had never developed a habit of swearing, but from the time Jordan was born, he was extra careful. “Crocker isn’t to be handling anyone. He’s on desk jobs − busy work.”

“We have someone new on the desk who didn’t know, and Crocker’s name was up on rotation.”

“All right, thanks. I’ll take care of it.”

“Uh, Chief, what are you going to do?”

“Something that I should’ve done a couple months ago.” He sighed, “Put him on mandatory leave until he completes psychiatric counseling and can come to grips with his girlfriend’s death. I know he said he just needs time to work it out, and Wilcox was trying to give it to him. But, he’s not getting better, and this isn’t the first problem we’ve had.” Mark sighed again. “It’s getting worse.”

Mark couldn’t help but wonder if some of Miss Taylor’s coolness was anger at his department, or if he was just looking for excuses. “I think I’m going to have to offer a departmental apology to our witness. Hostile is a fitting description of what she was when I visited her.”

He shoved his fingers back through his hair. “But first, get me that reporter on the phone and while you’re at it, I want his editor, too. I want to know what they were thinking when they posted our witness’s picture on the front page. I’m not happy at all about them putting her life in danger. This is nothing about freedom of the press or the people have a right to know. It’s plain stupidity.”

“That ought to be a good way to work off some anger. I’ll get them on the line now.” The man left with a cocky grin.

***

Jillian deflected the soccer ball, sending it to midfield then blew her whistle ending the scrimmage. “All right guys, everyone over,” she called to the team of ten and eleven year old boys and waited while they all ran up.

“Good practice. Now, I don’t want you to worry about the game tomorrow. It’s everyone’s first game. I expect to see a lot of mistakes, but I want to see you working together and trying to incorporate some of the things we’ve practiced in the drills. Cover your positions. Pass. No ball hogs. Soccer can’t be won by one person. And I really don’t want to see anyone get after anyone else for a mistake. We stay positive, and mainly, we have a good time. What’s our rule?” she yelled out at the end.

“Play hard, play fair and have fun!” they yelled back.

“Right! It looks like rides are here. See you in the morning. Don’t forget to grab your ball and water bottles.”

The boys chattered excitedly as they headed for the cars.

“Sam, can you grab the cones for me?” she asked.

“Sure, Jillian,” her neighbor boy returned as she reached for the ball bag.

“Can I help?” Jordan volunteered.

Glancing over first to see that no one appeared to be waiting for him, she answered, “Sure.” Jillian watched a second as the boys, who were becoming friends, raced off and smiled. It was nice to see Sam making friends.

He was a slim, black-haired, dark complexioned boy with soulful eyes who stole your heart. He and his mother had moved a couple doors down from her three months earlier. They had become fast friends just as these boys were becoming.

Jordan could hardly be more opposite. He was quite tall for his age. His fairer skin was well tanned. He had sandy blond hair with sun-bleached streaks that were almost white. His eyes were an intriguing combination of gray-green. A good looking boy. She smiled. Both boys would have their share of girls falling for them when they got older. The little heartbreakers had no idea yet.

Turning back, she reached for another ball when a shiver ran through her. Jillian froze, studying the area, seeing nothing. She gave herself a mental shake and reached again for her ball as the boys ran up to drop the cones in the equipment bag.

She jumped when a horn honked.

“Oh, that’s Mrs. Morris. I’ve got to go. See ya, Sam. Bye, Jillian.” Jordan rushed off.

“Bye. Ready to go?” Jillian turned to Sam.

“Yeah, Mom should be home soon.”

With one more nervous glance back at the soccer field, Jillian, suppressed another shiver and she turned to Sam. “Ready?” She grabbed the bag of balls and cones while Sam took the smaller one.

“That was fun,” he said as he fell into step with her.

“Did I do okay then?” Jillian looked over at the boy.

“You’re great. At first, the guys were groaning about having a girl coach, but they think you’re awesome now. You know a lot more than Thomas’s dad did.”

“Well, that’s good to know. I think they’re awesome, too.”

“Do you think we’ll win tomorrow?”

She smiled, of course that would be on his mind. “I don’t know. It’s our first game; this was only our second practice, but you guys worked really hard, so I don’t know why not.”

“Hi, Jillian.”

Jillian yelped and dropped the bag. “Oh, Toby,” she gasped, placing her hand over her heart, trying to catch her breath. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry, Jillian. I just wanted to say hi.” The large, well-built man scuffed his foot along the ground like a chastened child, which was more like what Toby was.

“Hi, Toby.” Jillian forced a smile and greeted the man. She liked Toby. He worked at the same grocery store as Sandra. A spike of fear ran through her at the thought of the night before.

“I didn’t know you played soccer.” Toby’s statement brought her back to the present.

Sam answered before she could. “She’s our coach. She’s great.”

“You’re a coach? Can I be on your team? I love to play soccer. I can kick the ball real hard.” This time he shifted back and forth hopefully.

“I’m sorry, Toby, you can’t be on the team if you’re over twelve.” Mentally, she knew that was about where Toby was, but physically, he was twenty-two, about six feet two inches and easily twice any of the boys’ weight. At the moment, he looked so downhearted, she couldn’t keep back the next words. “But, I’ll tell you what, if you see us practicing again, you can come over and play if you promise to listen to me and do what I say. You can be my helper, okay?”

“Oh, wow. I can do it. I’ll listen and do just what you say.” The smile radiated from him. “Can I carry your bag?”

She handed it over though they weren’t far from the car. He lifted the big, awkward bag with ease.

“Do you need a ride home, Toby?” she asked as he lifted the bag into her trunk.

“No, thanks, I have my car.” He pointed to a beat up hatchback with oxidizing red paint and a collection of things hanging from the rear view mirror.

“All right. Well, Sam, we’d better get you back to your mom. She’ll be wondering where you are. See you later, Toby.”

As she pulled away, Jillian glanced in the rearview mirror to see Toby staring after them. She knew he had a crush on her. She just didn’t know how to discourage it without hurting him. He really was nice, kind of like a big puppy. She felt a wave of sadness.

He was a good looking man, in fact, very handsome with light brown hair that was slightly shaggy and soulful brown eyes. The only thing that marred his looks was a scar that ran from the top of his cheekbone back into his hair on his right side; leftover evidence of the final beating his father had given him. A beating his body recovered from, but his mind never would. It was so sad that Toby would always be limited in his abilities and opportunities in life over such a senseless brutal act.

***

“Hi, Dad, you’re home in time for dinner.” Jordan greeted Mark as he stepped through the door from the garage.

It felt good to be home after the night and day he’d had. “Hey, it smells great.”

“Yeah, Mrs. Morris fixed baked chicken, potatoes, and homemade rolls.”

“I’m definitely glad I made it home.”

“We even have chocolate cake.”

“And if you two wash up, we can eat in about five minutes.” Mrs. Morris cut in.

“Won’t get any arguments from me,” Mark pulled off his tie, turning to his son. “You want to come up with me?”

“Sure.” Jordan followed him to the stairs.

“Are you going to tell me about your day? It must’ve been something good to give Mrs. Morris time to make such a dinner.”

“I had soccer practice. It was great. We have a new coach, since Thomas’s dad’s job changed, and he couldn’t coach. It’s a girl, but it’s okay. She’s really good. She’s Sam’s next-door neighbor. Man, she’s good. None of us can take the ball from her on one-on-one. We had to do a lot of drills, then we played a scrimmage. It was a great practice. We have a game tomorrow, can you come?”

“I’m already planning on it. Thought we’d go for pizza or hamburgers after. What do you say?” He threw his dress shirt in the hamper and reached for a T-shirt.

“Awesome.” Together they washed their hands.

“Good, let’s go eat and then I thought that we’d settle down in the family room to watch the movie that, if I remember right, you were hinting to me to bring home.”

“All right!”

Mark pulled into the parking space and scanned the soccer field. It was a perfect day for the soccer season to start. Clear blue sky and not overly hot. “Do you see any of your team?”

Jordan looked around then pointed. “There’s Sam.”

“Okay, let’s go.” The words were hardly out of his mouth before Jordan was out of the car running over to the field.

Mark stopped to pull a lawn chair out of the trunk then followed his son.

“Dad, this is Sam and my coach.”

“Hi, Sam.” Mark turned to his son’s coach and felt like he’d been hit with a bolt of lightning. From the look on Jillian Taylor’s face, it wasn’t any less of an impact for her. He couldn’t believe it. Here she was again. She was breathtaking.

The glorious, long hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her face appeared free of make-up except to cover the bruises he knew she must have, and a touch of lip gloss. She wore a light-blue T-shirt that brought out the stunning blue of her eyes. The navy shorts showed off her long, tanned legs.

“Chief.” The word brought him back, and Mark realized he had been holding his breath as he stared at her.

“Off duty today. It’s Mark.” He held out a hand. Awareness sparked as she took it, but she didn’t release the touch. “Jillian.”

“Hey, Dad, you know Jillian?”

She pulled back, and he could swear her cheeks looked flushed. Well, good. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one feeling something here that had nothing to do with fear or aggravation.

“I met her the other day on a case I’m handling.” He shifted his gaze. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you.”

“How’s Abby? I checked with the vet yesterday, but I didn’t ask you.”

“She’s doing well. I get to pick her up this afternoon.”

“You know her dog got hurt.” This time it was Sam who spoke up.

“Yes, she has a wonderful dog. I plan on getting her a treat.” Mark looked at Sam, and found both boys were watching them.

“Abby is great,” Sam agreed.

“Can I meet your dog, Jillian? What kind is it?” Jordan asked.

“She’s a yellow Lab. Maybe I’ll bring her to practice when she gets better. But she’d be a pest. She’ll want to chase the ball and run with you boys. Why don’t you go warm up on the side and get the other boys stretching out as they get here?” When the boys moved off, she glanced up at him. “I didn’t realize.”

“I didn’t either. Last night Jordan had practice. Why didn’t you say where you were going?” He felt like he was seeing another part of Jillian Taylor, and he wanted to investigate.

She looked over at the game in progress then back at him. “I wasn’t really happy with the police at the moment, and then you came on,” she paused as if looking for the right word, “strong. It ticked me off.”

“I’d like to apologize for that. I’d just dealt with a press conference when I saw the newspaper. I didn’t hear what happened at the station until after I got back. Detective Crocker is off the active list. There was a mix-up. He wasn’t to be dealing with people, especially women.”

“I’d say that’s a good idea.” She paused. “Something bad happened?”

Mark noticed that the question in her voice seemed to go beyond plain curiosity, so he answered. “His girlfriend was killed. She went to a bad area, late at night, to surprise him. It was pretty brutal. Crocker is having trouble dealing with it. Anyone would, but he was one of the first on the scene. The other officer didn’t recognize her and hold him back.”

“How awful.”

“Yeah, sorry to bring a downer to your day right before a game.”

“No, that’s okay. At least now I can understand.”

“Well, I’m forcing him to get help before he can return to duty. I do want to apologize again that you had such a bad experience.”

“I’m not sure it would’ve been a good experience anyway.” She shuddered.

“Hey, I’m sorry to bring it up.” He felt like an idiot. He needed to go back to How to Talk to Women 101. He reached and caught her hand. The instant his fingers touched hers it didn’t matter. The connection was back, or maybe it was never broken. She hadn’t been far from his thoughts from the moment he’d seen her wrapped in the slate gray blanket from a cruiser. Just as it had been in the middle of that dark, misty night, he wanted to take her in his arms.

“Hey coach!” The call penetrated his mind, and he realized where they were.

“Oh.” Jillian pulled back as if she, too, was coming back to reality.  “I have to … I’d better −” She looked flustered as she turned from him to her team. “Okay, listen up.”

The boys clustered around her, and she beamed with pleasure as she went over their positions with them. They moved onto the field as soon as the other game finished. Mark unfolded his lawn chair but didn’t sit in it, too occupied with watching Jordan and his coach.

With the boys running through a drill, Jillian jogged over to meet the other coach and the referee. She was beautiful to watch, a natural athlete with an easy grace. He realized he was seeing a big part of Jillian Taylor. He liked this part.

“Pretty lady. Lucky boys.”

There was no mistaking the voice. Mark scowled as he turned. “What are you doing here, Clark?” He didn’t try to disguise his displeasure at seeing the reporter.

“Hey, I apologized for the photo. Like I said, I never thought it would be a problem, didn’t think that it would be that big a secret, and I’m sad to say it wasn’t a very good photo.”

“You have a brain, at least you say you do. You should’ve known.”

“Now, is that any way for a police chief to talk to the press?”

Mark just glared and repeated his earlier question. “What are you doing here?”

“Boss wants a story on the new soccer season starting.”

“You don’t do human interest.”

“Sure I do. I’m a man of many talents and we’re shorthanded. So what are you doing here?”

“My son is playing.”

“Really, which one is yours?”

“Over there.” He nodded to the boys taking shots on goal.

“Ah yes, I can see. He looks like you.” Then he let out a low whistle and raised the camera he had hanging around his neck. “Those are some nice legs. Don’t see many kids’ coaches that look like that.”

He was about to snap the picture when Mark grabbed the camera and pulled it down.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” The reporter turned belligerent. “You going for police brutality?”

“No, I just don’t want you taking that picture. Why don’t you take a picture of the other team?” Mark suggested smoothly.

“The other team doesn’t have a coach that looks like that. She can’t have a child old enough to play. Hey, I know her. Isn’t that your witness? She’s even pretty in the daylight, a real beauty. So, how’d she end up here? And since when does the police chief do witness protection?”

“Purely coincidence. She was here when I got here.”

“What’s she doing here when she doesn’t have any children?”

“How do you know she doesn’t have children?”

“I have my ways. So why’s she here?”

“Hey, you have your ways.” Mark shot back, watching Jillian still talking to the older man in a ref uniform. After a minute, they shook hands. She called the boys to the center of the field to line up for inspection before they headed for the side.

***

Jillian froze when she saw the reporter standing with Mark Richards. Fear shot through her as did flashes of the night she longed to forget.

“Jillian, Jillian, Miss Taylor.” Several of the boys called her attention.

“Yes.” She jerked, turning to them. “Grab a quick drink. You know your positions. Let’s circle up first, ready.”

Together the boys yelled their cheer. “Play hard, play fair, and have fun.” Their hands came up in the air as they finished, then they did as she instructed. She waited a moment before she continued toward the men and her duffle bag.

“This should make a good story after all.” The reporter stepped forward. “Miss Taylor, I’m Nigel Clark from the newspaper,” Clark greeted. “I’m here doing an article on youth soccer and the volunteers. You don’t look old enough to have a child out there. Is it a brother or nephew you’re coaching?”

Jillian glanced toward Mark before answering. “Just a neighbor, but I’d rather not be interviewed.”

“Come on, can’t you tell me something? Why do you do it?”

She sighed and took a breath. “I’m doing it because I love the sport. I played in school. I think it’s especially great for kids because everyone plays. No one person can make the team. They have to learn to work together. It’s valuable for them to learn.”

“So you’re doing all this for a neighbor? That’s a generous thing to do.”

“As I said, I enjoy it. If you’ll excuse me, we’re going to start.”

“Can I talk to you more after the game?” Clark pressed as she turned away.

She glanced at Mark Richards again, but he said nothing. “Actually, I’d rather not, but there’s quite a few of the volunteers with really interesting stories. Take our ref, Mr. Green. I played soccer with his youngest daughter. His kids are grown and moved out of state. He has grandkids but can’t travel to ref or watch their games. So he gives his time to local children. He’s great with the kids. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to focus on the game.”

***

Mark found himself watching Jillian almost as much as he watched the game. She was fascinating. There was no doubt she was giving the boys one hundred percent, no faking her excitement or her approval. There was also no doubt the boys knew it and they gave her their all back. Then again what boy, what child, wouldn’t want to do their best when they got the praise and encouragement she was giving? He wasn’t surprised when they won, but he knew, even if they didn’t, Jillian would still let them know she was proud of them.

The first thing she did at the end of the game was to get the boys around her to give the other team a cheer and shake hands. She then gathered them back together and told each one something good she saw him do.

“See you at practice on Wednesday,” she reminded them before they headed to their parents.

“Dad, did you see me score?” Jordan ran toward him.

“Sure did. That was great.”

“Yeah, we practiced that move over and over again. And we got it right. And I did my shot just like Jillian told us, for the far pole. It gave me the better angle just like Jillian said it would. Wasn’t it wicked?”

“I guess it was.” Mark smiled at his son’s pleasure. “I’d definitely say you earned going out. What do you want, pizza or burgers?”

“Can I invite one of the guys?”

“I don’t see why not, if it’s okay with his parents.”

“Great. Sam, do you want to go get pizza or burgers with us?”

Mark saw the boy get excited, and then he looked to Jillian. “Can I go? I’m sure Mom would say it was okay, and I’ll be done before we have to go get Abby.”

The hesitation was obvious, as was wanting to let her charge go with his friend.

“Why don’t you join us?” Mark stepped forward.

She looked at him surprised.

“Please.” When he smiled, she smiled back, though a bit timid.

She nodded.

“Good.” Inside it felt much more than good. Suddenly, his lunch out with his son, which was always one of his favorite things, just got better.

“I need to get my gear.”

“No problem.” He folded up his lawn chair and went to stand by her. When she put her clipboard in her bag and zipped it, he reached down and picked it up. “Which way?”

“I can carry it.”

“I know you can, but you wouldn’t want these boys to miss an example of what a gentleman should do for a lady.”

Her lips twitched. “Nicely done, Chief.”

“Day off. Mark.”

Her lips parted into a smile. “Mark.”

Her eyes met his, and he felt the spark of awareness flame to life. There was no stopping his gaze as it drifted over her or the reaction that it brought. It felt good be alive in a male sort of way. Not that he hadn’t admired women in the last few years and dated, but this was different. He found himself anxious to find out what the difference was. And he would find out, even if she was involved in a case. Mark knew he couldn’t ignore what Jillian Taylor stirred in him. She was too intriguing, and he loved a good intrigue.

The adults followed the boys to where her car was parked, about a dozen spaces from his. “What’s it going to be boys?” he asked.

“Pizza.” the boys said in unison, the choice already discussed.

“Okay.” He turned to Jillian. “There’s a pizza place we like not far from where you live, unless you have a place in mind.”

“Gio’s?”

“You know it.”

“I like the stuffed crust BBQ chicken.”

“A woman after my own heart, but I’m afraid we’ll have to get a pepperoni for the boys. Listen, how about we drop your car off at your condo, and drive together?”

She shifted. “I have to get Abby after.”