Temperature's Rising (6 page)

If just looking at her could cause a meltdown, she wondered what having sex with Conor would be like.

Lord, she’d love to find out.

Not that she intended to. She certainly didn’t want to become infatuated with the new cop, even if he did look pretty damn good. She was just sexually deprived right now, and Conor made her think about the kind of sex that left her sweaty and satisfied. She hadn’t gotten sweaty or been satisfied in a very long time.

He continued to stare.

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“What?” she finally asked, wondering if she had a smudge of dirt on her face.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I guess you just seem different from the other day.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Cleaner?” He grinned, and her world tilted.

“You look really nice,” he told her.

As much as she tried to deny it, his words sent shivers of delight over her. She didn’t know why his opinion mattered. It shouldn’t, but it did, for some odd reason.

Ridiculous.

The first time he’d thought she was a down-on-her-luck hooker. Now, with no makeup and her hair pulled back into a ponytail, he was probably thinking she never fixed herself up. Not that she cared. After all, she was comfortable. Absently, she smoothed her hand over her hair and straightened her shirt.

“Here we go.” Her father rejoined them, interrupting her thoughts. He shoved canned sodas into their hands.

“Jess, are you planning on keeping our guest in the hall all day?”

“Listen, Dad, maybe it would be better if you and the officer . . .”

“Conor.”

She glanced toward him. “What?”

“Just Conor.”

She frowned. Too personal, but it would be rude to call him anything else now.
Conor
. She did like the name. It had a nice ring to it. Great, next thing she knew she’d be dragging out old yearbooks and scrawling his name across the inside cover.

“Maybe it would be a good idea if we had supper some other night,” she told her father. The less she was around Conor, the better.

“Nonsense, come in and sit down.” She hesitated. Why did she even try? She couldn’t win TEMPERATURE’S RISING

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against her dad. When he got an idea in his head, he was like a starving dog with a juicy bone. She’d have a heart-to-heart talk with him later.

After casting a warning look in his direction, she headed toward her favorite chair as Conor sat on the sofa.

“Honey, do you mind if I sit there? That old sofa is so worn out it hurts my back.” He slipped into the cushioned seat before she had a chance to do anything.

“Dad! Don’t you think you’re being a little obv . . .”
Ring!

“I’ll get that!” Her father vaulted out of the chair, racing to the other room. He didn’t appear to have a bit of back trouble.

Before she could even sit on the sofa, he returned.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go to the station. Nothing important, but something I need to take care of. Jess, my car’s been acting funny. Do you mind if I borrow yours?” His words tumbled out and ran together.

“I can take you.” Conor stood, but that was as far as he got.

“Oh no, Jess doesn’t mind if I drive her car. I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but if you don’t mind waiting, I should be back in less than an hour. Food’s on the stove.” He glanced her way. “Make sure Conor eats.” Before she knew what was happening, her father snatched her keys out of her hand and scurried out the door.

“But . . . but . . .” That conniving old coot! He’d managed . . .

The sound of her convertible purring to life caught her attention. Oh good lord! He was driving her car again.

“Don’t touch anything!” She made a dash for the door and flung it open. Her father waved over his head and zoomed out of sight.

She looked at Conor, who’d come up behind her. His eyes sparkled. Where was the
all-business cop
? Now he 50

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decided to show amusement? And at her expense? She wasn’t laughing.

“I don’t think being ramrodded is at all funny. And the last time he took my car he thought he’d turned the radio on. Do you know how much a new top for a convertible costs?”

He laughed, but quickly stifled his humor when she glared at him.

“Sorry, my family is the same way about borrowing things.”

“No family could compare to mine. Growing up around my relatives was total chaos. Aunts, uncles, and cousins flowing in and out of the house like a pipe that’d sprung a leak.”

Knowing he had a family and hadn’t just magically hatched from a rotten egg made him more . . . human.

He’s still a cop,
a persistent little voice whispered in her ear. And one who seemed to doubt her knowledge about law enforcement. She still resented his pat-on-the-head attitude.

She’d always thought she made a decent cop. It just wasn’t the profession she wanted for the rest of her life.

Apparently, supercop had his doubts she’d ever worked the streets. In uniform, that is. A frown furrowed her brow.

She wondered why he was apparently unable to visualize her taking down a perp.

Conor could picture Jessica in the middle of a big family. What he couldn’t visualize was her in a uniform.

Especially after what her cousin Mike had told him about her. Hell, the way he’d talked, she could walk through the door of a nunnery without a smidgen of guilt. She was so pure she almost had a halo around her head.

And right now, he felt more at home than he had in a long time. He was afraid he’d stepped into dangerous territory where she was concerned, because his thoughts were anything but pure.

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It was all he could do to swallow past the bile that rose inside his throat. Jessica probably never even thought about sex. If she did, then not the down and dirty kind.

She would be the type of woman who’d want the lights off to preserve her modesty.

Damn, and he’d arrested her for soliciting. He’d misinterpreted everything that happened that day. And he was supposed to be such a good cop. Suddenly, he felt like a rookie.

She hadn’t seemed pure and innocent, though, he ra-tionalized. But all the pieces were starting to fit. Why she was no longer a cop. Why she dated a wuss like Al.

Hell, no wonder she’d turned in her badge. The harsh reality of a cop’s life had probably been too much for her.

He had no explanation why she was dating Al, though.

Maybe the guy hadn’t made a pass yet. He looked like the kind of man women considered safe. He probably still lived at home with his mother.

Was he any better, though? Or maybe he’d done her more harm. Conor had no idea how he could screw everything up in such a short time. He was a real jerk.

He’d stepped into Jessica’s little world and fucked it up royally. She’d been a babe in the woods. A fawn hesitantly moving from the safety of the trees. Then
bam!
The bru-tal hunter showed up and hauled her off to jail. He’d never felt so low in all his life as he did right now.

“Have you eaten?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts.

He looked at her for a long moment. She seemed uncomfortable around him. She furiously twisted her top button around and around. Surely she wasn’t afraid of him. No, he didn’t think that was it, but he wouldn’t make her suffer his company any longer.

“I think it’s time I left.”

Her tongue came out and licked her upper lip. He almost groaned. Didn’t she realize what she was doing to him? Stupid question. Of course she didn’t.

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“Dad was right. You came all this way, so you might as well stay and have dinner. Besides, didn’t Dad say he wanted to go over a few things with you concerning the burglaries?”

“You shouldn’t have to wait on me, though.”

“I’m not.” She suddenly tossed a saucy grin in his direction.

His heart skipped a beat. God, she was so damned beautiful it made him ache just looking at her. She might be the wholesome girl next door, but the signals she sent out told an entirely different story, whether she meant them to or not.

“Everyone does his share around here,” she told him.

“Come on, if my nose is right, he made stew. That’s about the only thing Dad can cook really well. It’ll serve him right if we eat every last bite.” Okay, he’d stay for a while. If her father didn’t return soon he’d make up some kind of excuse and leave, but damned if he didn’t find himself wanting to hang around a little longer.

Motioning for him to follow, she led the way down the hall, through the dining room and into the kitchen. She had the sweetest sway in her step. His gaze was glued to the way her hips went from side to side, an easy, natural walk, but on her it looked damned sexy.

The kitchen was yellow and white . . . cozy. And it smelled great. It surprised him the chief was so much of a homebody. Or maybe it didn’t when he thought about it.

The chief seemed to be a good parent, even if a little meddlesome.

Jessica raised the lid and looked inside the pot. “I love Pop’s stew. He uses chunks of the best beef money can buy, then adds carrots and potatoes and simmers it all in its own juices. I’m still not sure how he makes the brown gravy it cooks in. He told me as soon as I marry he’ll give TEMPERATURE’S RISING

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me the recipe. It might be worth getting married just so I can get it.” She looked up with a smile on her face.

Conor took a deep breath. His stomach rumbled, but it wasn’t from the need to eat . . . at least, not food.

She pointed toward the cabinet. “Grab some bowls and I’ll get spoons.”

Anything that would take his attention off Jessica. He removed two ceramic bowls from the shelf and closed the cabinet. As he set them on the table, his gaze fell on the refrigerator. An assortment of childish drawings were scattered over the white surface, held on by a set of heart magnets, a bumblebee, and one glittery butterfly. Longing filled him.

“Conor?”

He looked at her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you’d like to sit.” She laughed lightly. “You seemed so far away. What were you thinking about?” She placed a large bowl filled with stew in the middle of the red-checkered tablecloth and waited.

“The pictures.” He nodded toward them. “Cute stuff.

My sister’s two kids have papers stuck all over the fridge, too.”

“Where do they live?”

“All over. Her husband is Air Force. Right now, McGuire Air Force Base in New Jersey.”

“Long way from Texas,” she said, going to the pantry and grabbing a box of crackers.

“Too far. Especially since my parents moved to Florida.” He didn’t like the feeling of not knowing exactly where he belonged. He missed the few family gatherings they’d all shared.

His parents had been more cemented in the business world when he and his sister were growing up, but did attempt an occasional holiday function of sorts when they weren’t out of town on one of their numerous trips. They 54

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just weren’t the home-and-hearth type of family, but he knew they loved both their kids and that did count for something.

He nodded toward the refrigerator, drawing himself out of the past. “So, who are the artists?”

“My brother Gabe’s two kids.” She sat in one of the chairs at the table and motioned for him to take the one across from her. “Dad has always encouraged their creative side.”

He straddled the chair while she dipped them each a bowl of the steaming stew. The rich aroma wafted up to his nose and he couldn’t do anything except breathe in the wonderful smell. He realized it had been a while since he’d eaten.

After straightening her napkin, she picked up the conversation. “I think Dad saved everything Gabe and I ever drew. Somewhere in the attic is a trunk stuffed with stick-figure drawings.”

He took a bite of the stew. Damn, she was right. Her father could cook. “Not bad.” He scooped another bite.

Her pride in her father’s cooking was evident on her face. “Dad’s half-Irish. He always tells us he couldn’t mess it up if he wanted. He also says that’s why our family are cops, medics, and firefighters.”

“Except you.”

“Except me,” she murmured.

Her eyes were fascinating—smoky-blue, kind of dark and mysterious, all at the same time. As soon as he realized where his thoughts were wandering, he returned his attention to his food. He didn’t want to think about her eyes or how they drew him in.

There was one question he’d like to ask, though. “Why don’t you date cops?”

The spoon stopped midway to her mouth and her forehead wrinkled. “How did you know I don’t date cops?”

“Your father told me.”

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“Ah, of course. My father has been telling my secrets . . .

again.” She set her spoon down and brushed some loose tendrils of hair behind her ear. “Why date a cop if I don’t want to be one? I want a normal relationship. Cops aren’t normal.”

He frowned. “I beg your pardon?” She chuckled. “I didn’t mean you weren’t normal. I don’t know what you are. I meant the hours you keep. For example, if you moved your jacket back a fraction, I bet I’d see a pager hooked on your belt.” He immediately reached down. She didn’t even try to hide her knowing smile.

“Told you so. My dad, brother, cousins . . . even my aunt, for goodness’ sake, couldn’t survive without the PD, the fire department, or ambulance. You all live for that adrenaline rush.”

“Not everyone is like that,” he argued.

“If you heard shots right now, I bet you’d be the first to investigate. And what about when you’re called out at midnight? Believe me, I won’t be showing a house in the middle of the night.”

He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Is that why you gave up being a cop?”

Instead of answering him, she countered with a question of her own. “Don’t you get tired of living on the edge? You never know if the dispatcher received the correct information. Or if the call will be a hoax, or if your life might be in danger. And what about when you only have seconds to make a decision? Do you ever worry if it’s the right one?”

“But that’s the exciting part. Not knowing exactly what to expect. Every call will be different because people are different.” He set his spoon to the side of his bowl and leaned back in his chair. “And as far as making the right decision, that’s part of it. A chance you have to take.”