Just Pretending. Myrna Mackenzie

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      “I’m not implying that you’re not capable, Detective,” David said, keeping his voice cool and soothing. “That doesn’t mean that this department, just like any other law enforcement agency, couldn’t use a little assistance when it’s offered gratis. You can’t tell me that this special arrangement doesn’t follow standard procedure, because White horn has never really been known for doing that. You’ve got Rafe, a county sheriff, in charge of officers in the town and deputy sheriffs out into the rest of the county. Those jobs have always over lapped, and territories have been crossed when it was necessary to keep the citizens of the area safe. It’s a maverick setup that makes White horn special—and effective. Why not take it a step farther and get a little help from another agency, as well?”

      The smallest of smiles lifted her lips and David had the feeling that he’d been given an unexpected gift. Her smile transformed her face, making her eyes light up. He had an urge to take a step closer. He squelched it, sure that this lady who was fighting so hard to keep him out of her investigation definitely wouldn’t want him in her personal space.

      “You like to argue, don’t you, Mr. Hannon?” she asked with a touch of laughter in her voice. “Well, you’re right, I can’t debate the procedural issue, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to take on volunteer officers. We’ve had plenty of work trying to keep the site uncontaminated. People seem to want to flock to a murder scene for some reason. I’m sorry, but in my book, you’d be another warm body wandering over the site.”

      She stood her ground, her green gaze apologetic but immovable. David had to give Gretchen Neal credit. She wasn’t going to let just anyone waltz in here and start calling the shots. He could see why Rafe Rawlings had put her in charge.

      He raised one brow. “You make a good point there, Detective Neal, but I can assure you that won’t be a problem. In my line of work, dead bodies show up more often than I care to remember.” As always, David did his best not to think back on those scenes. Moving on was the only way to get past the memories and deal with the job effectively. He didn’t like sloppy work any more than Gretchen Neal did.

      “Ms. Neal,” he continued. “I assure you I’ll keep my warm body out of the way as much as possible. I’m here to help, not to hinder.” His voice swooped low on those last words, almost the way a man would speak to a lover, and the lady blinked. She raised her chin higher, the slightest touch of rose in her cheeks just about the only hint that she was anything other than calm. He understood her consternation. He’d been a loner for most of his life and he knew all about that need to hold everything close, that unwillingness to give up even one thread of control to anyone.

      For one second, one very brief second when she looked up at him, David could have sworn that the look in Gretchen Neal’s eyes spoke of vulnerability. Immediately the shades came down on her soul.

      “I’m sure you mean well, but I—that is, I really don’t know you, Mr. Hannon, so I can’t very well take your word on that, can I? Would you take me on without question if the circumstances were reversed?”

      A low chuckle sounded behind her and David was glad for the interruption. She made a good point, an excellent point, but he wasn’t sure just how he would have answered. Gretchen Neal was an eyeful and an armful—and a good cop, according to her co-workers and his own gut instinct. David had the feeling she’d be a hard lady to turn away from.

      “Easy, Gretch,” Rafe Rawlings, sheriff and owner of the low chuckle said. “I know this guy. He’s clean. How’ve you been, David?”

      “Busy,” David said with a smile as he shook hands with the sheriff. “But probably not as busy as you appear to have been lately.”

      Rafe shrugged. “I hear you’re going to give us a hand. In an unofficial capacity, that is. Just heard from Phil Baker.”

      “In an unofficial way,” David agreed.

      “Rafe, have you considered the problems? This case is personal for Mr. Hannon,” Gretchen said.

      Rafe held up one hand. “You know almost everyone in town, Gretchen, and so do I. All our cases are personal.”

      “They’re not family.”

      “David’s a pro. One of the best and brightest. He’ll handle it.”

      She opened her mouth, then shut it again, but her eyes were worried when she hazarded a glance at David. Clearly she wouldn’t take her argument to the next step, blatantly questioning his professionalism, but she still didn’t like the situation.

      “It’s a good move, Gretchen,” Rafe said quietly. “David’s lived here all his life. I know him. He cares what happens here. He’ll make a good partner. You lead. He’ll assist. Tomorrow will be soon enough to start. You’re a pro, too, Gretch. Get over your objections by the morning. That’s an order.”

      She sighed and nodded slightly. “You’re the sheriff, Sheriff.”

      Rafe smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he said goodbye and strolled away.

      “Partners?” she whispered, her consternation evident.

      David wanted to smile at the break in her voice, but he restrained himself. This lady didn’t want him around at all, and he’d already won the battle. No point in aggravating the good detective.

      “Get to know me, Neal, before you decide I’m the enemy. I’m interested in the truth,” he said quietly. “And I intend to follow this through to the end no matter what that truth may turn out to be.”

      He also intended to discover another truth if he could, David thought as he bid her good-day. What was it about Gretchen Neal’s soft green eyes that made him want to step in close and risk her bite? Just once before this case was closed, he hoped he’d get the chance to find out.

      She’d argued too hard, Gretchen thought when David Hannon walked away, and she knew the reason. It wasn’t because of his personal connection to the case, although she’d been right to question it and Rafe had been right to set her straight. It wasn’t even because of the implication that she could use help from an outside agency, although her pride made her like to think that she could close this case alone. It did have something to do with the fact that this man was clearly going to be difficult to work with. He was going to want to lead. She could tell that already. Even more than that, though, her resistance was because of her reaction the first moment she’d turned and seen David Hannon. There was something about that dark sweep of hair, those intense emerald eyes, that made a person feel as if he knew what sensual dreams flitted through her thoughts when she lay sleeping and open and vulnerable. He had a strong jaw and a mouth that was a slash of sinful temptation. He looked like a man who drank a lot of champagne out of a lot of women’s slippers—and liked it.

      Her breath had caught in her throat in a completely unprofessional way. It wasn’t that she was unused to men giving her those speculative looks. She spent a lot of time with men. Most of her time, in fact, and she liked men. She liked dating, but she kept work and play very separate. She never got involved with other law enforcement officers. She never got involved with anyone too deeply and what’s more, she didn’t like feeling and doing things that just weren’t smart. Having a physical reaction to David Hannon was plain stupid and unacceptable. Especially if she was going to work with him in close quarters.

      And she was, it seemed, because when she arrived at the station the next morning David was there before her. When she walked up to her desk and found him lounging in her chair, СКАЧАТЬ