New? Madeline swallowed a laugh. If he only knew. She wasn’t going to explain her convoluted past to a man she’d probably never see again, though. She pointed toward the police car. “I’m parked over here.”
He settled the box on the stainless steel backseat and straightened. “Is that all?”
She wavered for a half second. “Actually, there’s one more, if you don’t mind…”
“I don’t.” The great smile lit his face again. “Or I wouldn’t have asked.” He tucked his hands in his pockets as they walked back to the diner. “Good thing I decided to call in a lunch order today, huh?”
She reached for the door and held it. “What do you mean?”
“Might have missed meeting you.”
A laugh bubbled in her throat, and she smothered it. The last thing she wanted was a man in her life, and if she was in the market for one, it would be the kind she’d always dated: smooth, polished, interested in sex and no strings.
Not the farmer-type she’d grown up with.
Not even one with a killer body and drop-dead eyes.
He hefted the second box with the same ease and economy of movement. Outside at the car, he tilted his chin toward it. “So you’re with the sheriff’s department.”
“Temporarily.”
He tucked his thumbs in his back pockets, the line of his body relaxed. “Maybe I’ll see you around then.”
Not likely, but she smiled anyway. “Maybe.”
He nodded. “You have a good day, now.”
Slipping behind the wheel, she watched him amble toward the diner. My, my, he had a nice ass, and the old jeans highlighted it to perfection. Shaking off the purely feminine musings, she shifted into gear and drove back to the station. Any pleasant feelings engendered by the interlude with the good-looking farmer sputtered out as soon as she returned to the sheriff’s department. She pulled in and parked beneath the spreading oak trees. The awkward angle of the back door made wrangling the large boxes free difficult. Two deputies exiting the rear entrance came her way.
“Let us get those.” The taller of the two spoke first, his voice quiet, his icy blue eyes holding no expression. “I hate when the diner uses these huge-ass boxes. Makes it hard as hell to get them out of the car. Here, Troy Lee.”
He passed the carton off to the younger man, who regarded Madeline with blatant curiosity. God help her. There was one in every bunch. She stared him down. The first deputy straightened, balancing the box on his hip much as the farmer had earlier. Sunlight filtering through the leaves glimmered over his nametag:
C. Parker
.
Troy Lee slanted an inquisitive glance in her direction as they walked toward the building. “You’re the new investigator?”
People around here truly had no life if they noticed every new face. Guess some things never changed. She nodded. “That would be me.”
A third deputy swung the door open for them from inside. “Hey, Troy Lee, Calvert’s looking for you. What did you do this time?”
“Hell if I know. He’s been pissy lately.” Troy Lee shoved the carton onto the counter inside the door. “Man, he’s a prick when he’s not getting laid.”
He trudged up the stairs. Parker began setting meals on the counter. “I have this, Investigator, if there’s something else you need to do.”
Other than pull her eyelashes out one-by-one because she was stuck working here? Couldn’t think of a thing.
Waving an envelope, Troy Lee bounded back down the steps. Parker grinned. “That was fast.”
“My training certificate from Tifton is in.”
Parker started another row of plates. “Take back what you said about him?”
“No. He’s still a prick when he’s not getting laid, and lately, he’s obviously not.”
Ignoring them, Madeline wandered upstairs. In the hallway, she caught a glimpse of the small lobby. Just inside the door, Tick Calvert stood talking with the same tall, good-looking farmer who’d come to her rescue earlier. As she watched, Tick grinned and slapped the other man on the shoulder before he left. The farmer waved on his way out the door.
Madeline shook her head. Well, then. Even if she’d been interested, being Tick’s friend put him out of the running. She definitely had enough shit in her life already.
“Holton.” Tick’s grim voice pulled her from the mini-reverie. “You ready to go run through patrol routes?”
“Sure.” She pinned on a patently false enthusiastic smile, and he scowled.
For their first trip out, he put her in the driver’s seat but insisted on giving verbal directions as they drove every back road in the county. Finally, her frustration bubbled over. “Damn it, Calvert, I am a local, remember? I don’t need you to hold my hand here.”
He tapped his fingers on the door panel. “This isn’t going to work until two things happen, Madeline. One, you have to do more than go through the motions. Two, you’ve got to get off that damn high horse of yours.”
She scowled at him as she turned left onto a familiar red dirt road. “Like you want it to work.”
His brows lowered and a muscle jumped in his cheek. “It’s about more than what I want. Stan hired you. He wants you in this position, and I have to make sure my department runs smoothly.”
“Your department.” She flexed her hands on the wheel. “I thought it was Stanton’s house.”
He tossed her an infuriated look. “This is hopeless. Pull off up here.”
She obeyed without comment, steering the patrol car into the drive of a long-forgotten shack, weathered and forlorn. Tick pushed his door open and exited the car, leaning against the hood, arms over his chest.
After killing the engine, she climbed out and walked to stand at the front of the car. Tick ran a hand through his hair. “Holy hell, I need a cigarette.”
With a shrug, she snagged her pack from her jacket pocket and extended it. He stared at the package with mingled longing and repulsion. “Shit, you smoke?”
She shook one free and lit it. “When I feel like it.”
His dark gaze trailed the smoke as it curled upward. “I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re one of those people who can take it or leave it.”
She inhaled, letting the tiny bite of nicotine soothe her ragged nerves. “Pretty much.”
“Figures.”
“Sure you don’t want one?”
He snorted. “I want it, believe me. I’m just not taking it. One leads to another with me.”
She propped a hip on the hood. “Why, so the great and mighty Tick Calvert does have a weakness after all. How shocking.”
“Don’t start that crap, Holton.”
“Maybe I’m not the only one with a high horse.”
He rubbed a hand over his nape, staring into the field beyond the house. “You know what we’re going to have to do for this to work, don’t you?”
She stiffened, her stomach dropping like she’d just peeked over the edge of some massive abyss.
He turned those dark eyes on her. “We have to deal with what happened.”
Out of long-time habit, Tick tossed his keys on the kitchen island and cringed as they clattered against the tile. He tensed, waiting, sure he’d hear Lee’s incensed wail. Silence greeted him, and he slowly relaxed.
After flipping through the mail—power bill, insurance renewal notice, junk flyer offering instant riches—he walked to the master bedroom just off the living room. Caitlin sat cross-legged, propped against their headboard, with case files spread over the quilt and their son nursing with blissful single-minded intent.
She looked up from the folder she was reading over Lee’s head, her eyes lighting. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He eased onto the bed and leaned over to kiss her. Her mouth moved under his, and the spice of her shampoo filled his senses.
At his voice, Lee opened his eyes and regarded him for a second before latching on eagerly once more. Tick cradled his son’s head, the wisps of black hair soft against his palm. “How was your day?”
“Busy. Guess who decided he wants to nurse every two hours instead of three?”
With his thumb, Tick traced the shape of the baby’s ear. Lee opened his eyes again, a slight frown drawing together brows so thin they were almost invisible. “Are you giving Mama a hard time, boy?”
Lee half-smiled at him before shifting his concentration to food again. Tick turned his head to find Caitlin’s gaze on his face, the green depths soft with emotion. He dropped his attention to her mouth and leaned in before he checked the movement. Instead, he slid to the side of the bed and toed off his loafers.
“What about your day?” A low note of strain invaded Caitlin’s husky voice.
He groaned and pushed up from the mattress. “Don’t ask.”
All the tension from dealing with Madeline Holton settled in his lower back. She’d made it very—and rather obscenely—plain what he could do with his suggestion that they deal with the past, and the remainder of the day had passed in chilly near-silence, broken only by the radio and any necessary communication between the two of them. He’d been able to feel the waves of resentment coming off her, and it had only made his own worse.
He unbuckled his belt and tugged it off, taking his gear with it. The gun, badge and cuffs went in his nightstand drawer.
“That bad?”
“Yeah.” He walked into the bathroom and flipped on the shower. While the water heated, he eyed himself in the mirror. A shadow of stubble darkened his jaw, but he could get by without shaving until the morning. Not like he’d have to worry about leaving Caitlin with beard burn. “What am I cooking tonight?”
“You’re not.” Paper rustled and Lee snuffled a little, followed by his robust belch. “We’re going to Autry and Stanton’s, remember?”
Damn.
Hands braced on the vanity, he dropped his head. He’d really rather stay in, let being with Caitlin and the baby soothe some of the stress dogging him. However, after a day spent with Lee and those crime scene reports he’d glimpsed, she had to be anticipating getting out. Maybe a couple of hours away from home would take his mind off the fact that it looked like his wife might never make love with him again.
Okay, “never” was a long time and probably an exaggeration. Maybe it looked like by the time they had sex again, Lee would be in high school.
“Tick?” Caitlin spoke from the doorway, baby tucked against her shoulder. Something in her voice told him she’d called him more than once. “We’re supposed to be there at seven.”
He dragged a hand over his hair and straightened. “Yeah, it just slipped my mind. I’m getting in the shower now.”
He stepped under the flow of hot water, letting it ease some of the kinks from his too-tight muscles. Considering the tiled cubicle held some of the hottest memories of his life, it did little for the gnawing sexual tension. He pressed his forehead to the wall and tried to think of things other than having Caitlin’s legs wrapped around his waist, water streaming over them as he thrust inside her, his ears filled with her soft moans and the sexy-as-hell way she cried out as he made her come. He groaned. Patient. He simply had to be patient.
The high-risk pregnancy, complete with months of bed rest, and her subsequent emergency delivery had been hard on Caitlin, physically and emotionally. His cancer scare and resulting surgery, coinciding with Lee’s nearly eight-weeks-early birth, had put him out of commission when he should have been helping her cope with a hospitalized preemie. Considering Lee had given new meaning to the term “intense personality” since they’d brought him home… No wonder they were out of practice in the bedroom.
Ten months, one week and…he counted, envisioning an imaginary calendar…two days out of practice.
He blew out a long breath and reached for the soap. Patience. A little celibacy had never hurt anyone, and he didn’t want Caitlin to feel pressured. He’d just go on, keeping his kisses and touches on the light and casual side, not pushing. He’d wait for her.
Even if it killed him.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?” Madeline leaned against the counter and watched her sister bustle about the to-die-for gourmet kitchen.
Autry settled a stack of plates on the island and brushed back a few strands of hair that had escaped her loose knot. “I’m sure. Stanton’s putting Gabby down for the night, the lasagna’s almost ready, the salad’s done. We’re good to go.”
Madeline tapped her fingernails on the cool granite.
Hands folded over the bulge of her pregnant belly, Autry studied her. “So how was your first day?”
“Okay.” With an offhand shrug, Madeline looked away. Autry thought the sun rose and set in Tick Calvert, always had. She didn’t know everything that lay between them, and Madeline sure wasn’t going to tell her. If she complained about working with him, she’d come off as a whining bitch. The bitch part she was okay with, the whining not so much.
“Just okay?”
“It was all right.” Madeline tossed back her hair. Somehow, she liked it better when she and Autry were going at each other’s throats. Sisterly bonding could be a bitch too. “God, Autry, it’s not like it was the first day of school or my wedding day or… It was an okay day.”
Autry lifted her hands in defense, or maybe retreat. “Fine. Forget I asked.”
That was better. Autry annoyed, she could handle.
Madeline counted the plates in the short stack, and a sudden sinking sensation grabbed hold of her stomach. “I’m not the only one coming for dinner, am I?”
“Nope.” Autry turned away to pull down glasses from a cabinet. “Tick and Caitlin are coming, and Ash Hardison. I don’t think you’ve met him.”
Dinner with Tick and the perfect wife? Oh, God. Hadn’t the day been enough?
Obviously not. Evidently, she was doomed to pay retribution for the rest of her life for one teenage indiscretion. If she had it to do all over again, she’d never have crawled into bed beside the lousy bastard.
A truck engine rumbled outside.
“That will be Ash,” Autry said. “Tick’s always late for dinner. It makes Cait crazy.”
Footsteps thudded up the steps and across the cedar deck. Single footsteps. Madeline relaxed slightly. She wouldn’t have to face Tick, not just yet. A quick rap at the back door echoed in the kitchen.
Autry hefted a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator. “It’s unlocked.” She was still speaking with rueful affection as it swung open and a tall blond man ducked inside. “I don’t know why you bother to knock. You’re always welcome.”
“Because around here, a guy never knows what he’ll walk in on.” He flashed a wicked grin and hugged Autry. Recognition slammed into Madeline. Gorgeous, flirtatious farmerboy from outside the diner. Gorgeous, flirtatious farmerboy who happened to be Tick Calvert’s friend. Oh, just her luck…
“Maddie, this is Ash Hardison. He and Stanton go way back.” Autry drew her forward. “Ash, my sister Madeline. She’s going to be working with the sheriff’s department for a while, as an interim investigator.”
“I know.” Those perfect white teeth flashed in a genuine smile. Pale green eyes filled with male approval stared down at her. “We met earlier today.”
Autry cuffed his arm. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
He ducked playfully. “We weren’t formally introduced. I didn’t realize she was your sister, just that she was driving one of Stan’s squad cars, and I didn’t get a chance to ask Tick who she was when I went by the station.”
Autry pushed them both toward the living room. “Y’all go get acquainted while I get our drinks ready. Stan should be out in a few minutes.”
In the living room, Madeline stood, trying to look everywhere but at Ash and failing. The too-faded jeans and old T-shirt were gone, although he still wore jeans—newer, neatly creased, paired with a white polo that somehow set off his eyes and made the light green even clearer.
He sank onto one end of the big leather couch, his gaze on her face. “So you’re Autry’s sister.”
“So you’re Stanton’s friend.” And Tick’s. She needed to remember that. She perched on the edge of an armchair, her stomach fluttering with a blend of nerves and awareness. This was ridiculous. He was good-looking. Whatever. Wasn’t like she’d never been exposed to a handsome man.
“Small world.”
“Isn’t it.” She rubbed her hands over her knees. “What do you do?”
An ironic grin played over his mouth. “I’m a farmer.”
Like she hadn’t guessed that. She brushed back her hair. “Row crops?”
“Some. We truck-farm produce.” He chuckled. “Mostly chickens. Alligators. Pecans.”
“Alligators?”
“No-waste farming. We feed the dead chickens to them. Turn a pretty good profit off the meat and hides as well.” He leaned forward, hands between his knees, warming to his subject. “I wasn’t too sure about the gators at first. They were Tick’s idea. You know Tick, right? Hell, you have to, y’all would have grown up together.”
“Yes, I know him.” And wished to God she’d never met the son of a bitch.
“So how long have you been in law enforcement?”
Her stomach clenched. “About eighteen years.”
“You must love it.”
“I do.” Or rather she had, until she’d managed to get her partner killed. The conversation was ripping at her gut, bringing up images and emotions she needed to simply stay buried.
Another engine rumbled, and headlights swept over the front of the house, a big cedar contemporary. Madeline pressed a finger to her forehead, where a low throbbing had commenced. Sitting home and listening to her mother bemoan the fact her little brother was in prison would be more fun.
“I’m blowing this, aren’t I?”
“What?” Madeline met Ash’s direct gaze. A hint of self-derision twisted his mouth. She laughed, a scoffing puff of air. “There’s nothing to blow.”
“I beg to differ.”
She cast a sideways glance at the kitchen doorway. Beyond, Autry’s cheerful voice blended with Tick’s deep drawl and another female voice, husky and cultured. Pulling her attention back to Ash, she shrugged. “I’m not in the market for a relationship right now. It’s not a good time.”
He nodded. “What about a good friend? You in the market for one of those?”
Friends? She didn’t do those. Besides, she’d never met a man yet honestly interested in being her
friend
. The image of Tick slapping him on the back flared in her brain. “Don’t you have enough friends already? Why bother with me?”
Surprise flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t look away. He rubbed a finger over his chin. “I find you intriguing. I’d like to know you.”
He found her intriguing? Um, yeah. Like a train wreck, maybe. “I—”
“Looks like everyone’s here.” Autry ushered Tick and his wife into the room. Tick settled a car seat bearing a sleeping infant on the coffee table. His dark gaze clashed with Madeline’s, and his chin lifted to a familiar, damning angle.
“I hope y’all are hungry.” A pretty smile lit Autry’s face. “I made two pans of lasagna, and Stan hates leftovers.”
“Well, I’m starved.” Ash pushed to his feet. He was tall—probably six-four at least. She liked tall men, liked the way having to gaze up at someone made her feel fluttery and feminine and…she needed to remember she wasn’t seeking any man, tall, green eyed, muscular, or not.
Indulgence colored Autry’s laugh. “You’re always hungry.”
“I work hard.”
“Madeline, have you met Tick’s wife?” Autry gestured at the slender brunette at Tick’s side. Madeline’s eyes narrowed on the other woman’s face. She was familiar, like they’d met before, and not because Madeline had seen her photos in Tick’s office. “Caitlin, this is my sister, Maddie—”
“We’ve met.” Madeline cringed a little at the cold note in her voice. She had met Caitlin once, years before. So Tick’s wife was the Fed who’d informed her of her father’s death. It really was a small world.
Caitlin extended a hand, her bottle-green eyes cool and watchful. “A pleasure to see you again, Ms. Holton.”
“Madeline, please.” She took the proffered hand, studying the details of Caitlin’s face. She was a beauty but appeared tired, a little drawn, the line of her mouth tight.
Autry rubbed a hand across her belly. “Maddie is Stanton’s new interim investigator.”
“Really.” Caitlin arched a brow. Some indefinable unspoken communication passed between Tick and her, and he scowled.
“Looks like he’s grown.” Ash leaned over the drowsing baby and touched a finger to his cheek. He stirred and Caitlin stiffened.
“Ash, wait, please don’t—”
A plaintive wail rent the air, and Caitlin cringed. Tick’s lashes fell, his shoulders slumping with his muttered “hell”.
“Lee’s here.” Stanton strode into the room, chuckling, as the baby’s coughing cries grew louder. Tick slanted a killing scowl in Stanton’s direction.
Caitlin leaned down and made quick work of the straps holding the squalling baby in the seat. She lifted him against her chest, murmuring soothing nothings. Ash grimaced. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay.” Tick waved off the apology. “He’s just grumpy. If you hadn’t set him off, something else would.”
“He was born grouchy.” Stanton slapped Tick on the back. “Don’t know where he gets that from.”
Against Caitlin’s chest, the baby scrunched into a stiff ball and howled while she dug in the diaper bag. Madeline’s throbbing pulsed harder. Did all babies do that? Maybe she hadn’t missed out on anything by not becoming a mother, after all.
With a pacifier and some patient comforting, the baby soon rested, half-dozing, in his mother’s arms. After a few minutes, Caitlin tucked him back into his carrier. Autry hustled them all to the table, and Madeline found herself sitting at Ash’s side and directly across the table from Tick.
Great. Just wonderful.
The busyness of passing food and filling plates blessed her with a few moments of distraction. Under the table, Ash’s knee nudged hers. She glanced at him quickly, only to find him turned away to pass the salad bowl in Stanton’s direction. She resisted an overwhelming need to shift sideways.
“Madeline, you’re here only temporarily?” Caitlin’s quiet question startled her.
“Yes.” She studied the other woman. No guile or malice gleamed in her gaze; the question seemed posed out of mere politeness or curiosity. “For the next six weeks.”
In the process of sprinkling parmesan atop his lasagna, Tick made a nondescript noise in his throat. Caitlin’s gaze flicked to him, then back to Madeline. “So you’re on leave from your department?”
“That’s right.” Awareness of Ash’s regard trickled down her spine, swirling into the tension caused by Caitlin’s questions. Something about that easy inquiry set her teeth on edge. She narrowed her eyes at Caitlin. Two could play the oh-so-polite interrogation game. “You’re FBI. Which branch? Organized crime?”
“Behavioral science. I’m a criminal profiler.”
Well, didn’t that beat all. Those innocent questions suddenly made a lot more sense. Madeline forced a smile to her lips. “Sounds interesting.”
“It can be.” Caitlin brushed her hair behind her ear. “If I remember correctly, you’re with Jacksonville’s PD.”
“Yep.” Her stomach knotted and she choked down the bite she’d just taken of her sister’s luscious vegetable lasagna. “Homicide.”
Caitlin’s gaze lingered on her a second before she turned to ask Autry about her latest obstetrician visit. With attention finally off her, Madeline let herself relax, only to look up and find Tick’s hard gaze on her. Her appetite decimated, she picked at a piece of crusty garlic bread and pushed her salad around its plate.
As much as she hated to admit it, maybe Tick was right. Maybe they just needed to deal with what had happened that long-ago night and in the days that followed. Whether she liked it or not, she would have to work with him, at least for the six weeks she’d promised Stanton when he’d offered her the temp position.
Dealing with the past wasn’t an option tonight, though. She glanced at Caitlin, then at Ash. Definitely not tonight.
Maybe tomorrow, when Madeline was once more trapped in a squad car with the one man who truly despised her.
Damn, he was headed for deep trouble. While he helped Stanton and Tick clear the table, Ash studied Madeline Holton once more as Autry moved the women outside to take advantage of an unseasonably warm evening. She had to be one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen with her long dark hair, big hazel eyes, full mouth.
She was also, from his experience, the most dangerous type of woman a man could encounter. First impressions could definitely deceive a guy. That afternoon, outside the diner, he’d seen a brashly confident woman, sure of herself, the kind of woman who met a man on equal footing. She looked anything but confident now, choosing a chair near the edge of the deck, as far from Autry and Caitlin as she could get. Her body stiff, she folded her arms over her chest and stared into the yard.
Removed. Isolated. Not what he’d seen in her that afternoon. He almost smiled. One thing was for sure—she was a dichotomy. A challenge to figure out.
Hell, he knew how dangerous those were as well.
His second impression had surely been tainted by what little Stanton and Autry had said about Madeline—quick-tempered, stubborn, demanding, always wanting to take the hard way anywhere. As he’d talked with her earlier, he’d caught glimpses of the woman he’d thought she was first, tempting him to forget his hard-won common sense. He’d been willing to overlook that, give in to the temptation to get to know her better.