LITMIR.BIZ

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his pockets. “Danny mentioned that.”

      She was definitely having a talk with Danny. He needed a reminder about basic security around strangers. “Enjoy your stay in Belclare, Mr. O’Brien.”

      “Call me Riley.”

      Abby had no intention of calling him anything at all. While it wouldn’t be a problem under normal circumstances, this wasn’t the best time to make new friends. Except when she looked up, his expression was open and there was a humor lurking in his brown eyes. Her earlier thoughts about a stress relief outlet flooded back.

      “I’d like that.”

      “Pardon?” In her fantasy, she’d apparently lost the thread of the conversation. Reaching into her pocket, she gripped her car keys and strode toward the back of the station. He followed her.

      “I’d like to enjoy my stay. If you’re not doing anything tonight, maybe you could show me around?”

      Startled, she stopped, gathered her foolishly scattered wits. “I’m the chief of police, Mr.—” she made the correction before he could “—Riley. If you need a map or a tour guide, check with the Visitor’s Center.”

      “I don’t get it.” He shook his head.

      She shouldn’t ask. If she let him stall her much longer, she’d be late. “What’s the matter?”

      He grinned again. “I thought we sort of, well, connected earlier.”

      “You’re joking.” The idea was absurd.

      “Only a little.” His eyes twinkled. “Call it instant hero worship instead of a connection. I didn’t think anything could make Mr. Filmore stop talking.”

      The urge to laugh startled her and she smothered it quickly. “That was more luck than skill.” A distaste for Filmore’s voice was a connection shared by 90 percent of Belclare’s population. “I really need to go.”

      “Okay.” He pushed open the door and held it for her. “If you change your mind or need anything decorated, I’ll be around.”

      His slow smile and the warmth of his body as she brushed by him created a stir low in her belly. Simple lust. A tempting distraction she couldn’t risk at the moment, no matter how genuine he seemed or how efficiently he tacked up decorations. The cold air slipped around her legs and up her knee-length skirt. She was rather grateful for the assist from Mother Nature as parts of her had turned inappropriately warm during this bizarre conversation. “You’ll be around? For the month?”

      “Longer, I think. I like the views,” he added, his gaze holding hers. “Better get going before you catch a chill.”

      Right. If only her feet weren’t rooted to the spot.

      As he pulled the door closed, she brought out her key to lock it. “Don’t worry. I’ll get it from this side. Danny told me all doors had to be locked at all times.”

      She clamped her lips together. No sense hollering at the new guy for the mistakes of the rookie cop at the desk. “Thank you,” she murmured when the door latch clicked. She counted to ten, then tugged the handle, pleased when the lock held.

      She hurried to her car. At least the new guy in town kept his word about the little things. Even that small assurance immediately put her in a better frame of mind as she drove out to her meeting with Belclare’s most reluctant celebrity, Deke Maynard.

      Quiet, reserved and a gifted artist, Deke had become a true friend. Aside from his assistant, she was probably the only person in town he trusted. She appreciated that and after all the recent criticism, she valued the few people like Deke who supported her. Keeping to their weekly routine of coffee and conversation in his elegant home gave her hope things would soon return to normal in Belclare and made her feel like more than just the chief.

      Nothing wrong with wanting to feel like a woman now and again. Didn’t have to mean anything. She thought of the handsome new stranger in town and shook her head. The dead last thing she needed was another complication in her life.

      Maybe she’d better stick with just being the chief.

       Chapter Three

      Standing at the wall of windows on the east side of the room he’d converted into a painting studio, Deke Maynard stared out over the sleepy town of Belclare. Three years ago he’d visited during their annual Christmas Village and declared himself enamored with the charm, views and people.

      He’d purchased this house and established himself as a recluse during the remodeling. Oh, he wandered out occasionally and spoke with people, but it was all he could do not to laugh in the eager faces of the ignorant citizens of Belclare as they gladly accommodated his every whim and eccentricity.

      He should have asked for hazard pay when he’d agreed to create his base of operations here. The day-to-day tedium of Belclare might kill him. Yet there were certain perks, he admitted to himself as the police chief’s car turned into his long driveway.

      The woman was beautiful and intelligent. If he bothered with regrets, he might have second thoughts about the things he’d set in motion. As it was, he scolded himself for entertaining the idea of keeping her as a trophy. It was a risk the operation could not afford.

      “Chief Jensen has arrived, sir,” his assistant reported after a quick rap on the studio door.

      “Thank you,” he said, as though he wasn’t watching her approach.

      The reports from town annoyed him. She’d doubled patrols everywhere. Quite a feat considering the limits of her staff, but if nothing else, they were a determined and loyal flock of sheep.

      He was reluctantly impressed that she’d managed to make the drug bust at all. That had been pure police work. There had been no leaks in the chain of information. When he’d arrived and become acquainted with her, he’d considered her more of a decorative figurehead than a real cop. He’d mistakenly assumed she’d been named police chief out of some misguided attempt to appeal to those who clamored for equality.

      Looking back, he was grateful he’d been diligent about his manufactured background or today’s meeting might be taking an entirely different and unpleasant turn.

      The doorbell rang and Deke smiled to himself. His assistant would manage the door and get her settled with coffee. Then Deke could make his entrance as the eccentric artist she expected.

      Appreciating her strengths didn’t change the fact that Chief Jensen had become enemy number one. As the town dressed itself for their penultimate tourist season, Deke had been making his own preparations. He weighed the pros and cons of his limited choices.

      In a matter of weeks, Chief Jensen had single-handedly wrecked a strategy years in the making. If he didn’t act swiftly to rectify the situation, his reputation would be ruined beyond repair.

      He examined the landscape on the canvas in front of him. His raw artistic talent would never carry him as far as his other skills. Skills powerful men and organizations paid handsomely for.

      Wiping the paint from his hands, he checked his appearance in the mirror at the top of the stairs before he descended to meet the police chief. This would be one of his most critical performances to date. And with all good performances, it would be better for tapping into the truth.

      Her drug bust might have cut off a vital money supply line, but that didn’t change his base, physical attraction to her. It would be that truth he monopolized today for the greater good of his real career.

      Pausing at the landing, he took one last deep breath before rushing the rest of the way down the stairs. “Ah, Abby, hello,” he said as he entered the sitting room just off the foyer. “Forgive me for keeping you waiting.”

      Chief Jensen smiled brightly as she stood to greet him. “You could’ve rescheduled if you’re working.”

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