A Stetson On Her Pillow. Molly Liholm

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СКАЧАТЬ to show her he wasn’t the hick she thought he was, and wondering why he wanted to prove otherwise, he limped to the office door and opened it. She swept past him, her chin up in the air and her back ramrod straight as she marched away. He let his gaze fall to her buttocks which nicely filled out the tailored navy skirt but there was no seductive sway of her hips.

      Damn, he had to admit she was beautiful, especially when she was mad at him, but she was not the kind of woman he was attracted to.

      Laura Carter might be gorgeous but she was also a royal pain in the butt.

      She kept going past his desk to the women’s bathroom while he picked up his messages. His brother Ben had called, as had Amber, a working girl who sometimes had good tips. Naturally she hadn’t left a number for him to return her call, but he knew that if it was important she’d find him.

      Stan Lesky stopped at his desk and grinned. “Score man. You got assigned to Carter.”

      “Only for this assignment. There’s nothing permanent about us as a team.” In his year with the Chicago P.D. he’d had three different partners. Willy and he had partnered up for six months before Willy’s retirement. Contrary to popular cop movies, they’d thrown a nice goodbye party and Willy had retired to the suburbs to annoy his wife. Then Clint had partnered with whoever was available, most often with Lucy Wong, a veteran of fifteen years in the department, and with Jeff Knight on his first rotation as a plainclothes officer. Despite the fact that Jeff Knight had grown up in Chicago, Clint knew he had never been as young or enthusiastic as Jeff.

      It wasn’t only the big city that had hard lessons to teach. Anyone looking at Jeff and Clint side by side at age twenty-two would assume Clint was the sophisticated, cynical man from the big city and optimistic Jeff the bumpkin from Two Horse Junction, Texas, population five hundred and eighty-seven.

      Every year the population of Two Horse fluctuated by five to ten. Some years it decreased as the young people left; then it would swell again as some disillusioned souls came back home. Clint planned to increase the number by one very soon—his brothers needed him, and more importantly he needed to be back home. And once he was back he planned to find a nice local girl to marry—he knew his mother had a list of suitable single women—and to increase the population of his hometown even further with a houseful of kids. A sweet and loving wife he would treasure, look after and never leave. And he would be sheriff.

      Sheriff in a small town was much better than being a detective in Chicago. Both jobs were important, he acknowledged, but back home he would know the people in his town. He’d be able to help in a real way—and be able to stop trouble before it grew out of hand. A small-town sheriff was a law enforcer, the first administrator of justice, a social worker, marriage counselor and role model.

      Unlike his father he wanted the respect of his town. He loved his hometown but he needed its respect even more. When Sheriff O’Conner retired next year and Clint was offered the job, he wanted everyone in town to say that he was the best man for it. If he succeeded with this case—made some kind of breakthrough that the SFI had not—if he joined the homicide squad, then no one in Two Horse Junction could doubt that a full-fledged Chicago detective hadn’t earned the position of sheriff.

      Lesky grinned even wider, showing off his big shiny white teeth. The man could be found in the men’s room flossing several times a day and recently he’d even bleached his teeth. “Carter is a fine piece of woman.”

      “More like an iceberg.”

      “Sometimes melting an iceberg can be appealing. All that fresh, untapped water.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

      “You’re forgetting what happened to the Titanic. I, however, remember my history. My only interest in Laura Carter is whether or not she’s a good cop.”

      “I’ll bet she’s good all right—at least that’s what her old captain believed.”

      “That’s a rumor,” Clint replied, feeling a twinge of guilt at his own hypocrisy. “We’re cops and are supposed to follow the facts, not gossip.”

      Lesky grabbed a chair and straddled it. “Fact number one, Laura Carter is a very beautiful woman. Fact number two, she moved up the chain of command faster than usual—faster than either you or me. Fact number three, she had a very close relationship with her captain in Boston.”

      Clint put his phone messages into his desk drawer. Lesky was tiresome. “That’s pure speculation. The captain may simply have been her mentor.”

      “You’ll be the one to judge how good she is…at police work.” Lesky loved the sound of his own voice, and a small crowd was gathering around Clint’s desk. The only way to stop Lesky was to let him finish.

      Lesky looked around at his fellow officers. “Back to the facts. Fact number four, most of her unit believed she was having an affair with the captain, apparently including his wife. Fact number five, his wife began divorce proceedings and fact number six, because of Laura’s family connections, she was transferred to us. How long did it take the paperwork to get you from Dallas to here?”

      “A year.”

      “It took Laura two weeks.”

      Lesky had a valid argument but Clint never believed all the stories told about a person. Stories could be vicious and mean, even when they were based on truth.

      He knew all about living with a reputation. “The facts could also indicate that she was—is—a damn fine cop.”

      “But that body. She’s got great legs and—” he cupped a pair of imaginary breasts. “I’d love to lose myself in her body for a few hours.”

      “That’s where we’re different. I don’t believe every rumor.” Clint stood. “And trust me, the last thing I want to do is get my hands on Ms. Carter’s body. Us Texas boys don’t like frostbite.” He pretended to shiver but saw that Lewsky wasn’t smiling. He took a deep breath and turned around.

      Clint reminded himself that his mama had taught him better. If you spoke your mind you had to accept the consequences. Laura stood in front of him, looking like she always did.

      Her face wasn’t flushed with anger, she didn’t sweep her gaze disdainfully over him or even turn on her heel and stalk out.

      Instead she looked cool and imperial. When she opened her mouth he braced himself for her cutting remarks. “What time do you want to pick me up tomorrow? It will make our cover story more believable if we arrive in one car.”

      He thought about apologizing, but she didn’t look like she cared about what her colleagues thought of her. “Does noon work?” he asked instead.

      “Can you make it a little later, say one-thirty? I have to organize a lot of clothes to play my part.”

      “Sure, that’s okay.” He opened his mouth and then closed it again.

      She took a pen and piece of paper from his desk and wrote something on it. “My address. I’ll be in the lobby at one-thirty.” She handed the paper over to him and their fingers brushed. For a moment she eyed Lesky, then walked away.

      This time Clint wanted to shiver for real. Laura Carter was even colder than he’d imagined.

      No matter what the next few days held at the society wedding, it would be no honeymoon.

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