Some kind of wonderful (12 page)

"Okay," she said, "technically, there was a grad night. A cruise in the harbor, dinner and dancing. I didn't go. Couldn't afford to buy the ticket."

She shrugged and he told himself not to notice how the straps of her flimsy tank top slid lower off her shoulders with the movement. Just like he'd been telling himself since she got into the car with him that he couldn't smell the faint scent of coconut suntan lotion she'd rubbed into her skin.

He blocked that image and tried to imagine her young, alone, and too broke to go to a party that her whole senior class had probably talked about for weeks. Sympathy rose up inside him like the incoming tide, but he pushed it back down. She might have needed his sympathy when she was a girl. She didn't need it now. And wouldn't thank him for it.

"Well, lucky you. You're about to find out what you missed." He blew out a breath, and did his best to uncoil whatever it was inside him that was twisted into a knot threatening to strangle him. But he had a feeling that as long as she was within reaching distance, that knot wouldn't be easing any.

He shouldn't have brought her. He knew that. But dammit, teenage girls at a party would respond better to a woman than they would to him. Plus, he had no doubt at all that his little sister was in the middle of that would-be orgy. And no way was he going to walk in and find Peggy in some teenage groper's hot little hands.

Just went to show how. different being a cop— temporarily —in Christmas was, to being on the force in LA. He couldn't imagine any situation in which he'd have taken a civilian along with him on a call in the city. But here, he was grateful to have her.

Of course, he thought, as Quinn jutted his big head

from the back seat to breathe hotly across Jack's cheek, he could have done without the company of the dog.

Deputy Ken Slater pulled in alongside Jack's car and rolled down his window. So did Jack.

"Looks like a good one this year." Ken grinned and looked years younger than his actual thirty.

"Loud, anyway," Jack agreed. "You stop by the desk, tell Henry we'll clear everyone out."

"Right."

"Then come back and you can help call parents "

The other man frowned, but nodded. "I hate that part."

He climbed out of his car and headed for the office, while Jack turned to Carol. "You sure you're up for this?" he asked, figuring it was only fair to give her a shot at changing her mind. Though he hoped to God she didn't.

"Ten-four." She gave him a half-assed salute as she smiled at him.

"Cute, Carol," he said, watching that smile and thinking she was way more than cute. "Real cute."

They got out of the car, leaving the bear locked inside with the windows down, and headed for party central. The few kids who noticed them didn't even try to make a break for it, which only proved they'd had too much to drink. Didn't even know when the party was over.

The gravel beneath their feet scratched and bristled with every step, competing with the noise of the stereo blasting out of the truck's open windows. Shaking his head, Jack, feeling as old as dirt, reached in past the steering wheel and turned the key off. Instantly, the noise level was cut in half. Only the music from inside one hotel room provided the atmosphere now and that he could shout over.

But before he could say anything, the complaints started firing.

"Hey!"

'Put on the tunes, man!"

'What's the deal?" A kid with long brown hair, a beer

his hand and a sneer on his face, tilted his head back

glare at Jack.

'Party's over." Jack took the kid's beer and emptied it ito the gravel. Then shaking his head again, he grabbed the boy's upper arm and motioned Carol to his side.

A couple of girls squealed and made a dash for the motel room.

"You separate out the girls," Jack said, already moving for the door while dragging the reluctant boy along with him. "I'll take care of the guys."

"Dude," the boy said, "you're gonna pay for that brew."

They both ignored him.

Carol shot a glance at the milling crowd within the first room. "What do you want me to do?"

"Collect car keys, pass out Kleenex to the criers, and look out for the pukers." The kid in his grasp tried to make a belated break for it and Jack grunted as he tightened his grip, then frowned when the kid started hurling. Shaking his head, he added, "Then we start calling moms and dads."

"Roger." She snapped him another salute and Jack laughed shortly.

Even the kid puking beside him couldn't quite ruin the sensation that laugh had triggered inside him. Damn, it was good. Good to feel. Good to laugh. Almost as good as it was just watching Carol Baker walk.

At that thought, he mentally reined himself back in

and glanced at the kid wobbling unsteadily beside him. "You think you're sick now? Wait'll tomorrow, hotshot."

Two hours later, the last kid had been picked up and the last threat of "Wait till we get you home" had been delivered.

Carol looked around at the mess left behind by the crowd of kids and was fervently glad she wouldn't have to be on the clean-up crew. The motel rooms were trashed, which, she supposed, was bound to happen when you shoved fifty or sixty teenagers into two small rooms. But they'd pay for it tomorrow. By cleaning and repairing and working through hangovers that would surely be hideous.

Sitting in Jack's squad car, she watched him as he walked the perimeter, checking out the few remaining cars in the lot for kids who might have managed to hide out. Tall and muscular, his black hair shone in the moonlight, and the muscles in his chest and back shifted and moved beneath that uniform shirt as if performing for her benefit. And she was enjoying the show.

But it wasn't just his looks, she thought, remembering how easily he'd handled angry parents, sick kids, and crying girls. He might think he was an ex-cop. But the truth was, he'd never be ex. Helping people was in his bones. Knowing the right thing to say and the right thing to do was second nature to him. She'd seen Ken Slater turn to Jack a half-dozen times during the last two hours, for advice or help. She doubted Jack even realized himself just how good he was at the job he claimed he didn't want.

"You're not lis-ning."

The slurred voice from the back seat made Carol turn.

Jack's little sister Peggy, working on a few beers too many, swayed in her seat as if trying to balance on a high wire. The girl's blue eyes were bleary and her face looked a little green in the dim light. Carol figured the girl was soon going to be paying for her share of the party. As would Lacey, she thought, remembering how the girl had stumbled into Deputy Slater's car for the ride home. Sighing, Carol figured that her part-time clerk would be calling in sick for work tomorrow.

"You're right. I wasn't listening." She turned back to watching Jack move around the parking lot and only tuned half an ear to what Peggy was complaining about.

Peggy threw both hands wide and let them fall to her lap dramatically. "Nobody lissens."

Carol sighed. Probably be easier to just hear the girl out than to try to ignore the drunken rambling.

"Okay, I'm listening now. What do you want to say?"

"Quinn, get down." Peggy pushed the big dog's head out of her face. "Hones', Carol. Was jus' a li'l beer." She held her index finger and thumb up, measuring just an inch or so.

"And you're only a little underage."

Peggy's mouth twisted and she pushed her hair back from her face, then blinked as if she couldn't remember what she was doing. "Jack didn't haf'a be so mean about it."

"He didn't call your mom," Carol pointed out, with a quick look into the back seat.

"He's gonna tell 'er, though." She scooted forward on the seat and laid her forearms on the back of the front seat. Leaning in close, she blinked, tried to focus, then said softly, "You could ask him not to."

"What?" Carol turned her head again, came eyeball to eyeball with Peggy, took a whiff of cheap-beer breath

and pulled back a little. The girl's eyes were practically wheeling in her head as she leaned even farther in and kept talking.

Putting one finger to her lips, she grinned and stage-whispered, "Won't tell Mom if you ask him not to."

"(A) I wouldn't ask him," Carol said with a half-smile, as she watched Peggy try to focus on her face and fail miserably. "And (B) you're wrong."

"Man." Peggy flopped back into the seat again, all ninety pounds of her, slumping bonelessly against the vinyl in a wild drape of despair. Wrapping her arms around Quinn's neck, the girl said, "He so totally goes for you."

Carol just stared at her. "Huh? Who?"

"Jack."

Oh, yeah. Jack was so fond of her he'd backpedaled his way out of a cup of coffee. Feel the devotion. "Peggy ..."

"I'm serious," the girl said on a huffed-out sigh. "Can tell when he looks at you."

Carol shifted in her seat to get a better look at the completely drunk young girl behind her. "Tell what?"

Peggy snorted a laugh, then dropped one hand to her stomach. "Oooh. I don't feel so good." She frowned, swallowed hard, then said, "Please. Like you didn't notice."

The girl was drunk, eighteen, and looking for a way out of trouble. Hoping a little flattery would buy her some time and maybe an inroad with her brother. Carol kept telling herself all of those things, but somehow, she didn't really care. "Notice what?"

The girl sighed again and ruffled the few stray curls that had drifted across her forehead as she nestled closer to Quinn. She patted the big dog with a heavy hand and Quinn only winced and took it. "He looks at you like— like—" She took a breath and exhaled dramatically

when she found what she was looking for. "Like Quinn looks at dinner. You know, all hungry and stuff."

Hungry?

Carol's throat tightened and her insides jumped. Heat, liquid, tight heat roiled through her body and settled low enough to make her want to shift in her seat again. Ridiculous, she told herself, to believe anything a girl with too much beer in her had to say. But a part of her really wanted to believe.

Unfortunately, the part that wanted to believe was a lot louder than the more rational half of her brain. She twisted back around in her seat, as Peggy snuggled up to the long-suffering Quinn, and focused her gaze on Jack as he took long strides into the lobby of the motel. Through the wide windows, she watched him shake hands with Henry Beevis and placate him when the bald, skinny old man started flapping his hands and shouting.

Then Jack turned suddenly and it felt as though his gaze slammed into her. Even from a distance, even with the glass and a cold, summer night between them, she felt the heat of that stare sink right into her bones. Ripples of sensation swirled through her and Carol found herself really hoping that Peggy was right.

'Thanks for your help," Jack said as they stood in the

hallway separating their apartments.

The Christmas-tree sconce threw scattered light

into the hallway, banishing the darkness but conjuring

shadows.

"It was sort of fun, in a weird kind of way."

"Fun? Calling angry parents to come and pick up

their drunk teenagers?" He leaned against the wall and

looked at her. Damned if she didn't look way too good at two in the morning. She'd helped, too. Kept the female hysterics to a minimum and smoothed out a few rough edges with parents. She'd handled Peggy and helped him deal with his furious mother when they dropped the girl off at the Ho-Ho-Hotel. She'd kept her sense of humor through the whole damn thing and, even now, she was still smiling.

Her soft, blond-streaked hair fell on either side of her face and her brown eyes looked even deeper, richer than usual in the pale hall light. His gaze fixed on her mouth, and as he watched, she licked her lips and set a fire blazing inside him.

It had been too long, he told himself. Too long since he'd been with a woman. That was the only reason she was getting to him. It wasn't her laugh. It wasn't the weird sci-fi fixation that had her quoting old movies all the time and naming a newborn Lizardbaby. It wasn't her gentleness with little Liz or the easy way she had with his kid sister.

This was just lust, pure and simple.

And what man wouldn't be churning for a taste of her? Those long, tanned legs of hers looked tempting, and all too clearly, he could imagine them wrapped around his waist, pulling his body deeper, into hers. He stifled a groan as he shifted his gaze from her legs, then only made things worse as he noticed that beneath the little elf on her tank top, her nipples pushed at the soft fabric of the shirt.

Jack's hands itched to touch them.

"Okay," she admitted, leaning back against her own side of the hall. "It wasn't fun for them. But I've never been a cop before."

"You're still not."

"Not officially ..."

"Not any way at all"

"Whatever." She waved one hand as she grinned at him. "It was still.. . interesting."

"Yeah, watching teenagers throw up beer is always a good time."

"I'm not talking about the kids," she said, watching him through eyes dark enough to lose himself in. "I'm talking about watching you."

He snorted.

"I mean it. You're good at it," she said softly. "Being a cop, I mean."

One eyebrow lifted as he shook his head. "Ex-cop."

"No." She pushed away from the wall and took a step closer.

In the narrow hallway, that put her about a breath away from him. His breath staggered in his lungs as he fought to concentrate on what she was saying—not how good she smelled.

"You can quit the force, but you're still a cop."

"Only temporarily," he reminded her.

"Nothing temporary about it. No matter what you think. It's in your bones," she said. "It's who you are."

Her gaze locked with his.

He couldn't have looked away if his life depended on it. And just for one wild flash of time, he thought it might. But life wasn't that fragile. Not even his.

"You can walk away from your job," she said, "but not from who you are."

"You're wrong." She had to be wrong. Otherwise, what was left to him?