Florida Knight (24 page)

She aimed the gun-shaped hose nozzle straight at Michael’s chest, pulled the trigger back all the way. She chortled as Michael roared his shock when the powerful torrent caught him full force.  If only she had a camera to capture the look on his face!

He lunged toward her, reaching for the hose. Kate turned and ran, stumbled, dropped the hose. Scooting behind the broad trunk of an ancient live oak, she hid, her back to the rough bark, hands splayed at her sides.

Alas, the hose was longer than she’d thought. A stream of water caught her hard between the breasts, cascading over shorts, down her long legs, turning her already soaked sneakers into water-filled boats. Michael, using the hose like a machine gun, sprayed her up, down, and across. “Uncle!” Kate shouted above the whoosh of the water. “Uncle!”

As the water abruptly cut off, she could hear Michael’s chuckle. “You think it’s funny!” Kate cried before belatedly remembering her own laughter.

“You started it.”

She pushed her sopping hair back behind her ears; her eyes met Michael’s. “So I did,” Kate said. And grinned. Wetly.

“Hey, guys?” An
EMS
worker was standing a few feet away, looking doubtfully from one dripping form to the other. “I thought you might like these. We
–
uh
–
don’t like to forget our heroes, you know.” He held out a blanket in each hand.

Caught acting like infants. Kate thought Michael looked as chagrined as she felt. He mumbled his thanks as he grabbed both towels, somehow managing to hand her one without looking at her. The
EMS
worker tossed them a wink and a wave of his hand before heading back to the First Aid station outside the main entrance.

“We’ve lost our art work,” Michael said. With a corner of the blanket, he wiped the last smudges of henna from Kate’s face. “Sorry,” he added with a wry grin. “I’d like to have seen Barbara Falk’s face when you walked in all dolled up like some houri from a
Garden
of
Delight
.”

Michael grinned, ducked away from Kate’s outrage, raising the blanket across his face in a mock shield between them. When he straightened up, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, he’d become a different man. His voice, as he suggested they find a sunny spot to dry off, had all the warmth and personal feeling of an officer moving gawkers away from the scene of an accident. Kate supposed it wasn’t every day an FHP lieutenant was lured into playing water games. The great man was actually embarrassed.

Kate wrapped herself in the blanket, closed her eyes, and sighed over the sheer pleasure of the warmth. Ignoring the stares of shorts-clad fairgoers as they caught sight of the dripping wet couple wrapped in blankets, they finally found a bench that wasn’t shaded by trees. Kate took off her sneakers, dumped a gusher of water from each, then watched while Michael did the same. As he straightened up, their eyes met.
Her
Michael was back. Tough, sophisticated, slightly cynical, with a warmth only a chosen few were allowed to see. This was the Michael who could be fourteen one minute and pushing forty the next. Kate found she rather liked them both. Even the crusty embarrassed Michael who had proved he was only human.

“So,” Kate challenged, “was this another incident?”

“He was drugged.”

“
What?
”

“I watched the
EMS
crew check his vitals. When they rolled back his lids, his pupils were pinpoints. I’d guess he was unconscious when he fell. Someone slipped him a mickey.”

“But how—”

“Who knows? I just know someone did. The only alternative is that he’s a druggie, but somehow I doubt it. I’ll interview them both when things settle down, but I’m pretty certain this was the work of our mysterious evil genius.”

Kate bent down, rubbed off a lingering blob of mud on one of her sneakers. “I really thought we’d just have fun today. I never expected trouble. Not so soon after Garth.”

“He’s stepping up the pace.” Michael looked as grim as he sounded.

“I guess,” Kate murmured. “Michael? . . . What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry you’ve had such a bad day. When I suggested coming here, I never thought about how you’d feel. The tournament, I mean. And now this. I’m sorry, really sorry.”

A moment’s pause, then his arms went wide. Kate found herself cheek to chest in what should have been a cold and clammy place. Instead, his wet shirt seemed to steam under a rush of heat far hotter than the warmth of the double layer of blankets now firmly clutched by Michael’s hands behind her back. Kate dug in, her blanket-wrapped arms knuckling his chest. For these few moments—this infinitesimal space in time—she had no desire to be anywhere but here. If she let go, the world would fly off its axis, crash into the sun, burn to a crisp.

Michael’s lips breathed warmth into her ear. It felt completely right. “Hey, I’m the big tough cop, remember? I have to take it all day, every day.”

“But this is your day off!” Kate wailed.

“Right now I don’t have any days off.”

Of course he didn’t.
What a fool she was!
Michael Turco was on the job, as always. Giving comfort to his partner. His amateur, junior partner. It was his profession, his life; she just a cog in one more investigation. If he had a heart, any kind of soft spot inside his FHP armor, it was reserved for his family. Kate Knight was just a passing stranger.

She squeezed her eyes tight, held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t feel the shudder that ripped through her. Kate flattened her hands against Michael’s chest, pushed herself upright. Turning her face toward the warmth of the late afternoon sun—the only warmth left in the day—she summoned Barbara Falk’s cool and professional paralegal. “I was going to suggest we eat out on the way home,” Kate said. “Guess that’s out. Can you see the look on the maitre d’s face?” Flip, light-hearted. Remote. Yes, that was the tone she wanted.

Michael scowled. One minute she was snuggled into him like he was manna from heaven. Now this. “Kate? What did I do?”

“Nothing.”

“A damn strong nothing.”

“It’s okay, Lieutenant. Just consider me weird.”

Jesus!
Michael suddenly got the message.
Women!
Couldn’t she tell she was more than a job? That his pulse raced every time he got near her. That he was hard put to control what had seldom given him trouble since those embarrassing days of early puberty? Couldn’t the fool girl see that he cared, that he had to keep himself from calling her every day, that he had to think up excuses why he shouldn’t drop by her house?

Idiot female!
She was a goddess among women. And she acted as if nobody wanted her. As if she had to be celibate in order to protect herself from rejection . . .

No, that couldn’t be it, Michael amended. She
was
afraid, though, and one of these days he’d have to find out why. Today, however, was far from the right moment.

“Kate, listen to me.” Michael, careful not to touch her, hitched a corner of the blanket back over his shoulder. “Today was a good day. Sure, I had some bad moments at the tournament and I’ll never be a candidate for therapeutic mud baths, but it’s been a great day. I actually had fun, and the best part of it all was being with you. Do you understand me, woman?”

Kate’s chin tilted up, her eyes looking off in the distance as if searching for the knothole in the old live oak, the tiny head of the yellow rat snake whom she’d undoubtedly named Turco. “It’s very kind of you to say that,” she intoned. “You’re a good man, lieutenant.”

Damn!
With one lousy sentence he’d messed up all the progress he’d made. The hurt in her must be deep and powerful. Not something he could penetrate in two weekends or even a month of weekends. But there had to be a way. For now . . . patience, common sense, pragmatism. Michael Turco, sensible cop. Professional. Asexual. His chest heaved on a sigh he caught, let out without a sound.

“Let’s unwrap,” he declared briskly. “Walk around, let our clothes dry. Then we’ll go back to my place. I’ll order a couple of take-out steaks, fries . . .no, you’re the baked potato type, aren’t you?” Silently, Kate nodded. “I’ve also got a bottle of scotch from the
Isle of Skye
. A Christmas gift I save for special occasions. How about it? Does that sound like a plan?”

She was silent so long Michael found he was holding his breath. Kate’s soft, “Okay,” was anything but enthusiastic, yet he had to stifle a shout of triumph. He was going to have a whole evening alone with Kate.

Michael helped remove her damp blanket, shrugged off his own,
and
calmly assumed the burden of carrying them both. The
Florida
sun lived up to its reputation. Three-quarters of an hour later, they’d returned the blankets to the
EMS
station and were in the 4Runner, heading home.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Michael glanced at Kate’s profile. She might as well have been a marble sculpture.

“I hadn’t seen you flash your badge since that first day in the office. It conjured a few . . . memories.”

“Bad ones.” It wasn’t a question.

“Not really,” Kate countered. “It just felt . . . odd.”

“If I hadn’t needed to get information, I would have kept it in my pocket. But I had to know who to call to set up an appointment.”

“Look, Turco, it’s okay. I don’t mind what you are. I . . .” Kate directed him toward an on-ramp, then leaned back in her seat as they left the crowded city streets behind. “Yes, I was angry that day. You were an overbearing hunk of arrogance, setting me up to fool my friends. Not really giving me any choice. It wasn’t nice.”

“
Nice?
Even my mother doesn’t claim I’m nice.” He’d been called a lot of things.
Nice
had never been one of them.

“Michael!” Kate chuckled. The tension triggered by the sight of his badge eased. But the feelings she’d experienced while Michael consulted with the
EMS
had been tumultuous. Due to her dislike of authority, her determination to be a free spirit? Or was it something else? There’d been a flash of pride as the
EMS
workers made phone calls, scrambled to write down the information Michael wanted. They’d all but genuflected before that FHP lieutenant’s badge. Kate had felt it down to her toes. Michael was a hero. And he was
hers
. Even if they were merely temporary partners. She was glad they’d gone to the Fair, helped save a life, were working together to save still more.

“But you like me anyway, right?” Michael asked, flicking a teasing glance in her direction.
Like?
A mild word for the emotions surging through her. She would not, of course, give him so much as a clue. Kate clutched her white bear with the pink bow which, amazingly, had been waiting on the bench when she went back to look for him. She shouldn’t—ever—admit to affection for anything more than inanimate objects. Then again, how long could she continue to lie to herself? “Unfortunately
,
yes.” Kate sighed. “I should have my head examined.” The chink in her armor slipped yet another cog. “Um
–
Turco . . . ?”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Kate, we’ve been through disasters together. We’ve slept side by side. I should think you could say whatever you want to me.”

Kate took a breath deep enough to be heard over the zip-zip-zip of traffic on the six-lane highway. “Have you ever been married?”

He shouldn’t have laughed. He knew it the minute his full-throated shout filled the 4Runner. She probably wouldn’t speak to him for the rest of the sixty miles home. He scrambled to find the right words to cover his feeling of triumph. “My mother used to accuse me of being married to my patrol car. Now it’s simply the FHP. And, in a way, it’s true.” Michael paused, still fishing for words to cover his gaffe. “There was a girl once, a long time ago when I was still wet behind the ears. She had sense enough not to want to be married to a man who carried a gun. At the time I wasn’t too happy about it. Then I got used to living solo . . .”
Jesus!
He’d almost added,
taking romance where I find it.
“I guess you know what that’s like.” he mumbled lamely.

Kate made an indistinguishable noise in reply. Silence reigned all the way back to
Golden
Beach
, each occupant of the 4Runner wrapped in a jumble of private thoughts and chaotic emotions.

A mile north of Kate’s exit off I-75, she came to life. “Just drop me at home, please.”

“We’re going to my place, remember?”

“Look, Turco, I’m a mess!”

“I’ve got a shower, clean shorts and T-shirts—”

“Which, of course, will fit a big girl like me.”

“For God’s sake, woman, be reasonable! You know that wasn’t a nasty remark. Don’t make waves where there aren’t any.”

“I don’t feel reasonable. I don’t
want
to be reasonable!” Panic. She had to go home.
Now!

Michael white-knuckled the steering wheel. “Kate, we’re partners. I’ve got hot and cold running water, clean clothes, scotch whiskey to die for, a phone to order take-out. Why the hell would you want to go home and brood over all this alone?”