Sparking His Interest. Wendy Etherington

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СКАЧАТЬ he had, but he hadn’t.

      Probably because the conflict had run for many years, back to when Ben had been forced to take over as the leader of their family, when their father had died fighting a fire and their mother had fallen apart and retreated emotionally from all of them.

      Wes’s resentment over being bossed by his brother no doubt stemmed from their differing personalities as well as the closeness in their ages. Their younger brother, Steve, who was also a firefighter, never seemed to have conflicts with anyone. Everybody loved him. Everybody wanted to be around him. Why couldn’t he follow Steve’s example?

      Cara stepped toward him, reminding him he had other issues on his plate. “Robert Addison.”

      Wes bobbed his head back. “He’s standing over there. Ask him yourself.”

      Her gaze shifted. “He’s here?”

      “Talking to the mayor. It’s Addison’s building. Somebody called him, I guess.”

      “I guess,” she said, then shook her head. “I’ll get to him. Right now, I want to know what you think.”

      Figuring he would regret his honesty, he plunged forward anyway. “He wears expensive clothes, drives a flashy car, owns a huge plantation house on a big hill. I’ll bet his underwear has designer logos on them. He’s sophisticated and smooth.” He paused, his gaze shifting to her face. “The ladies seem to like him.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Yippee. Just how wealthy are we talking about here?”

      Addison wouldn’t be the first to target his own property for gain, he supposed. “Several million.”

      “Business stable?”

      “He’s well diversified.”

      “Bad habits?”

      He really liked her suspicious nature. “Not that I know of.”

      “Nothing you can prove, you mean.”

      Nothing he could even substantiate. Other than one personal experience, it was just a feeling. A gut reaction that said slime whenever Addison was around. Expensive slime, but still messy. Wes just plain didn’t like the guy as a person, as a man, so that opinion clouded any judgment of him the cop could form.

      She paced next to him, her boots crunching against the gravel mixed with grass. “What about enemies?”

      “Those he’s got plenty of.”

      She stopped. Her eyes gleamed—like a hunter’s. “Yeah?”

      “He’s rich, so some people automatically resent that. He’s fired people over the years. More resentment. He treats people as if they’re beneath him. And I—” He stopped. That was private. And old news.

      “What? Why do I get the feeling there’s something personal here?”

      He should have known she wouldn’t let that slide. “I just don’t like him.”

      “He doesn’t sound like a likeable guy.”

      You let your feelings get messed up with your professional judgment. The sheriff, his brother, even the mayor had said those words so often to him, he’d lost count. Did people really do that—separate the personal from the professional? Did other cops really look at rapists and think, He’s broken the law, violated a woman’s body, her personal safety and not think, He’s a scumbag who ought to be locked up for life?

      I don’t think so.

      To hell with it. “He’s not a likeable guy,” Wes said, meeting her gaze.

      “And there are plenty of other people who feel that way.”

      “I don’t doubt it.”

      “Hmm.” She smiled suddenly, and he found the expression all the more welcoming considering their surroundings. All the more alluring because of the sober expression he’d first encountered. “At least we won’t have a lack of suspects.”

      He returned her smile. “Probably not.”

      She drew a breath, and again her eyes reflected more than just an interest in the case. He hadn’t imagined the glimpse of desire this time. The big question was: what were they going to do about it?

      “It’s going to be interesting working with you, Lieutenant.”

      He took a step closer to her. “You, too.”

      His heart thudded as his gaze roved her face. He was crazy, feeling like this. So quickly. So intensely. He’d never worked with anyone he was attracted to. Could he ignore the sparks of attraction? Be professional? Reserved? He very nearly winced.

      He’d have to. This case was the most intriguing to come along in a long time. And if he managed to slide in a dig or two, a moment of trouble for Robert Addison…all the better.

      Her gaze slid to a point over his shoulder. Her eyes narrowed. She laid her hands on her hips and squinted. “Is there a reason Elvis would have an interest in this fire?”

      Wes didn’t bother to turn around. Yep, life was about to get really interesting. “Oh, yeah. He’s the mayor.”

      “WES, I’M SURE you’ll be fully prepared to explain this latest assault on our formerly secure community by 9:00 a.m. in my office,” the man, presumably the mayor, announced as he swaggered toward them. “Mr. Addison is very disturbed by this latest attack.”

      Cara stared at him. She’d seen a lot of wild—and gruesome—things in her career, but a portly mayor in a white polyester beaded jumpsuit, slick, black-dyed hair, with long sideburns and big gold sunglasses at an arson scene at two-thirty in the morning was a new one.

      “Of course, Mayor Collins.” Wes gestured to her. “Have you met Cara Hughes? She’s the state’s foremost arson investigator. She’ll be taking over the case.”

      Cara shot Wes a look of retribution. Turn me over to the nutty mayor, will you? I’ll remember that.

      The mayor settled his hands on his hips, which pushed back the white cape attached to the jumpsuit, and highlighted the large, rhinestone-studded belt buckle imprinted with the letters TCB, which stood for Taking Care of Business, if her Elvis lore was on track. Even through the sunglasses, Cara could sense his measuring gaze. She waited in silence imagining what he was thinking while he looked his fill. Who are you? What would drive a woman to do this? Why aren’t you home raising babies or teaching school like a decent, small-town Southern woman? Many a foster parent and supervisor had questioned her idiosyncrasies over the years. She was long immune, and it was always interesting to see where each person categorized her.

      Elvis the Mayor chose to ignore her.

      “Baxter is a safe town,” he said to Wes. “I don’t need this in the papers in the morning.”

      “It’s still safe,” Wes said, his deep blue eyes full of a violent restraint that was no doubt lost on the mayor.

      Cara, however, found his emotional state fascinating.

      She СКАЧАТЬ