Scandalous Mistress. Leslie Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      She tried to keep her annoyance in check. “Then what is it?”

      “Just wanted to get a look-see.”

      “A...what?”

      “Heard you came over on the ferry in that bright yellow tree-hugger car. Figured I’d get an eyeful of ya.”

      Wait. He’d pulled her over so he could see what she looked like? His expression—half interest, half cocky smirk—said he was entirely serious.

      Annoyance segued to anger. “Are you telling me you pulled me over so you could check me out?”

      “Yep.”

      The situation had gone beyond unprofessional, verging on harassment. She understood they did things differently here, but this was still the United States, and no cop, anywhere, had the right to pull someone over merely to leer at them. Even Mike, as flirtatious as he’d been yesterday, had stopped her because she was going the wrong damn way.

      But this guy? What a total creep.

      He proved it with his next words. “You sure are a knockout. I like that red hair.”

      “You had no right to pull me over.”

      “Aww, don’t get hot under the collar. I was just being neighborly, wanted to welcome ya to Wild Boar.”

      “Next time you decide to be neighborly, tip your hat when you pass me on the street,” she snapped, already turning to open her door. “And then keep on walking.”

      He stepped between her and the car, blocking her exit. His eyes, set deep in his fleshy face, had narrowed. She didn’t imagine this bully-of-the-playground was used to anybody calling bullshit on his antics. But he quickly put that cocky smirk back on his face. “Well, cutie, there’s no call for that. You might be used to people being unfriendly-like where you come from, but this here’s a whole other world than what you’re used to.”

      “No kidding. The world I come from would call this impropriety at the least, but more likely sexual harassment.”

      This time not only did his smile fade and his eyes narrow, an angry flush crawled up his cheeks. “Now listen here...”

      “What’s going on, Officer Dickinson?”

      The barked question came from behind her, and Lindsey immediately swung around, relieved beyond measure to see the chief of police. Mike had pulled over across the street and approached, as quiet as a cat, his big body tense, his expression utterly serious. He cast a quick eye over her, gauging her mood, or making sure she was all right. Then he frowned at his officer. “Answer me.”

      “I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Lindsey said, pushing her way past the big jerk who got turned on by red hair. “This officer pulled me over so he could ‘get an eyeful’ of me.”

      Mike’s jaw tightened and his hands fisted. “Is that so?”

      “Aww, calm down, no harm done. I was just saying hi.”

      “Complete with flashing lights and siren,” she snapped.

      Mike pointed an index finger at the taller man, who probably outweighed him by forty pounds. But the flab in Dickinson’s brain was matched by his body, whereas Mike was all hard, powerful muscle. She had no doubt who would win in a contest of sheer, brawny strength.

      “Get in your car and drive to the station,” Mike said, chewing each word and then spitting it out. “I’ll meet you in my office in thirty minutes.”

      “Oh, come on...”

      “Go, Dickinson. Right now. I’m going to talk to Miss Smith and see if she wants to submit a formal complaint against you.”

      The big lunkhead gaped, his jaw falling down so hard it practically bounced off his chest. He stared back and forth between her and Mike, as if trying to determine whether a mark on his record was a real possibility.

      It was, of course. She could file a complaint, and she probably should. She hated to admit it, but he’d made her nervous. Not afraid, necessarily, but she didn’t like bullies and he’d tried to intimidate her from the minute she’d stepped out of the car. He’d covered his belligerence with small-town charm, but she’d seen right through it.

      Unfortunately, getting into a fight with a local cop was not the way she wanted to start off her tenure here on the island. She didn’t want to make any more of this than it already was.

      Nor, however, did she want to let him off the hook right away. “Goodbye, Officer Dickinson.”

      The junior officer shot a fiery glare at his boss, then an equally fiery one at her, and marched, stiff-legged, to his squad car. Mike stepped closer to Lindsey, putting a hand in the small of her back, as if steadying her, and they both watched as the other vehicle tore away up the street.

      “Are you all right?” Mike’s voice was low, concerned, the anger still dripping from him but now equally balanced with worry.

      “I’m fine. But he’s an asshole.”

      “No kidding.”

      “I can’t stand men who throw their weight around.”

      “He’s got a lot of it to throw.”

      She grinned, as he’d probably intended her to. “Please tell me you inherited him and didn’t hire him after you started?”

      “Definitely inherited,” Mike said. “And he’s caused me nothing but grief since my first day.”

      “Can’t you get rid of him?”

      “Not only is he from a family who’s lived here forever, but his uncle was the last chief. He’s the one who gave good old Ollie the job.”

      She groaned, and not because the guy had such a stupid name. Poor Mike—talk about a rock and a hard place. It was bad enough in an office environment to have a problem employee you couldn’t trust but also couldn’t get rid of. As a cop, it had to be a hundred times worse. She doubted there was much violent crime here on Wild Boar, but anything could happen. Not being certain your coworkers had your back would make it much more stressful to walk into a dangerous situation.

      “I’m so sorry.”

      “I’m the one who’s sorry. This is entirely my fault—he’s my responsibility. I’ve been trying to work with him, get him to be at least somewhat competent. Obviously we have a lot more work to do.” He stared down the street in the direction the car had gone. “To be honest, he’s one reason I’d like to succeed in this job. I’m afraid if I left, he’d get it by default.”

      “Poor Wild Boar Island.”

      “Exactly.”

      He thrust a hand through his hair, tousling the thick, brown locks. The sunlight caught glints of gold here and there in the strands and turned his dark brown eyes into something closer to amber. God, the man could be on magazine covers, yet instead here he was, standing on the side of the road, handling someone else’s screwup, taking СКАЧАТЬ