The Man Behind the Badge (10 page)

She lowered her gaze to the table. ‘You’ve left the matches here—shall I light the candles?’

‘Yes, please.’ He lifted the mounded bowls and walked towards her.

‘That looks like real home-made pasta,’ she said as he put them on the table.

‘It is.’ He used a pasta ladle to pick up a scoop of spaghetti and transferred it to her plate. From the other bowl he lifted a generous serving of the sauce. ‘Only the best for my marinara.’

‘Who made it for you?’

‘Made it myself.’ There was a small secret smile playing around his mouth.

‘You
made
the pasta?
Real
pasta?’

‘Yep.’

She gave an uncertain laugh. ‘Right. Jamieson is obviously a good, solid Italian name.’

He raised his brows and gave her an affronted look, which was spoiled by the way his dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘I’ll have you know that my grandmother is Italian. I learned to make pasta from an expert.’

‘Okay, okay.’ She held her hands up in a mock surrender. ‘I apologise. You’ve done an amazing job.’

‘Thank you.’ He rewarded her with a big smile. After filling a bowl for himself, he slipped into the seat across the table from her. ‘Dig in.’

She twirled the pasta onto her fork and lifted it. The strands melted in her mouth. ‘Oh. My. Goodness.’ She took a second mouthful. ‘Mmm, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. This is seriously delicious.’

He grinned. ‘Glad you like it.’

‘Like it? I love it.’ She took another mouthful. ‘You are deservedly famous for your spaghetti marinara.’

Tom watched her eating the food he’d prepared. Her genuine relish gave him a good feeling. Even though he knew it had been hard for her once she’d realised she was his only guest for dinner, she’d still decided to trust him enough to relax anyway. That was a huge step and he had to be careful not to abuse that. He could tuck his needs ruthlessly back into line. Tonight was about laying more groundwork. Just as well he was a patient man.

‘Tell me about growing up with a deputy commissioner for a father,’ he said.

‘Wow.’ She stopped and blinked at him. ‘There’s a leap into a tough topic.’

‘I want to know about you. How else will I learn if I don’t ask the hard questions?’ He grinned at her. ‘I should also point out that you’ve avoided the question so that tells me a whole lot, too.’

‘Now you’re scaring me.’

He picked up his wine and took a sip, letting the silence grow.

She shrugged and looked down at her plate. ‘Dad was working towards his promotion when I was growing up. Of course…like anything, it had good points and bad points. He tried to run the household like a mini police academy. Not altogether a success.’ She gave him a small smile. ‘On the other hand, by the time I left high school I was good at self-discipline, delayed gratification, problem-solving and goal-setting.’

She huffed out a small self-mocking laugh. ‘And my boyfriends were
very
well behaved. I was always home before curfew, no octopus hands, no love bites, no whisker burn, no rumpled clothing.’ Using her fork, she twirled spaghetti onto the tines and took a mouthful.

‘Does that count as a good point or a bad one?’

She finished chewing and swallowed. ‘Excellent question. I’m not sure. I think maybe it stunted the development of my feminine wiles.’

‘Believe me, honey,’ he murmured, as he speared a prawn then looked at her, ‘those have developed just fine.’

She regarded him for a moment then with the tiniest movement of her shoulder she said, ‘Maybe.’ Her gaze dropped to her plate.

It was obvious she didn’t believe him. Kayla was beautiful, courageous and competent. Confident, too—except for a large blind spot about her own value. Surely, a father’s job was to give his children belief in themselves and their abilities?

The way his own father had done for him.

The way he wanted to do for his children.

Tom swallowed his mouthful of food and turned the conversation to more general topics. He sensed Kayla’s relief and he was rewarded when she relaxed again and opened up more. Her warm laughter rolled over him. He set himself to tease yet another delightful peal out of her.

As he looked his fill, he reflected that he could easily get used to her sitting on the other side of his table…sleeping on the other side of his bed.

At the end of the evening, he followed her home. He waited at the front door while she unlocked it. When she turned back to face him, he moved forward, placed both hands on the brick wall behind her, one each side of her head. She turned her face up for his kiss. His lips sank onto hers, feeling her open to him as he enjoyed her softness, her taste. More. He needed more. His libido strained at the curb bit.

He pulled back and swallowed hard. ‘If you’re smart, you won’t ask me in.’

‘Why not?’ Her voice was low and husky, delicious.

‘I’m in danger of growing tentacles.’

‘Tentacles?’

‘Like an octopus. Hands everywhere.’

‘Oh.’ She gave a small nervous laugh. ‘Excellent advice, then.’

‘Yeah, it is. Go inside and lock the door.’
Quickly.

As though she’d felt his urgency, she ducked under his arm and slipped through the door. ‘Goodnight, Tom.’

Only when he heard the latch snick did he straighten and walk slowly off the porch. With all the self-control he’d been exercising lately, he was going to be eligible for sainthood. But it was worth it.

Kayla listened to Tom’s footsteps. Sly images had formed in her mind at Tom’s words. How would it be to have his hands on her…everywhere? They were playing with fire and they had to stop. She was glad they’d agreed to be friends—but anything more was impossible. She had to tell him, had to explain why nothing could happen between them.

L
ATE
afternoon the next day, Kayla stopped at the supermarket’s refrigerated shelves and studied the selection. The succulent prawns reminded her of Tom’s traditional marinara dinner last night. She smiled wryly. She’d half expected him to make a move while he’d had her in the privacy of his home. She’d been prepared, all her defences at the ready, but he’d disarmed her with the care he’d take over dinner. Even with her vulnerability he hadn’t stepped out of line.

He’d followed her home and left her on her doorstep after an earth-shattering kiss that had left her close to whimpering. Why hadn’t he pressed his advantage? She frowned as another thought occurred to her.

Damn it…she was being manoeuvred as surely as one of his camp draft steers. A little pressure here then none at all when she’d been expecting some. All the while, she’d enjoyed herself, basked in the Jamiesons’ readiness to accept her, lapped up Tom’s easy companionship because he didn’t ask more than she was prepared to give. The camp draft and dinner at the pub to celebrate afterwards, his father’s darts tournament, his mother’s birthday, the traditional marinara dinner last night.

He was clever. She couldn’t help but admire his seduction by stealth. She’d enjoyed every step of the process but it had to stop. They couldn’t, mustn’t, get any more involved. She had plans.

‘I’d prefer a nice juicy steak myself.’

She jolted as a deep masculine voice rumbled in her ear. The plastic-wrapped chicken flew out of her hands. Tom leaned around her, his hand on her shoulder and caught the packet easily on its trajectory back to the supermarket’s refrigerated shelf.

‘Hello, Kayla.’

‘Hi, Tom.’ Her mouth split in a wide involuntary smile that refused to be dampened.

He looked pleased as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to her mouth. Her heart stuttered to a stop then raced into a madly erratic gallop.

‘Could I have my shopping back, please?’ She was proud of how calm she sounded given the hectic things her pulse was doing.

He handed the packet to her. ‘You’ll need a bit more than that if you’re inviting me for dinner at your place.’

‘Really?’ She rolled her eyes at him and pushed the trolley along to the dairy section. ‘Now I see the catch with letting you cook dinner for me last night. You expect me to reciprocate.’

‘Caught me out.’ He grinned.

She grabbed a tub of plain yoghurt. ‘Well, I will—’

‘I’m free tonight.’ The eagerness on his face was hard to resist.

‘I will have you around for dinner,’ she said as though he hadn’t interrupted, ‘with the other people I owe invitations to.’

‘You could start with just me tonight.’

‘I could. But I don’t think I will.’

‘Notice too short? You’re doing something else?’

‘Nope.’ She stared sightlessly at the shelves as they meandered past them. At this rate, she was going to get home with none of the things on her list. ‘I don’t think intimate dinners for two are a good idea.’

‘Why not?’ He put his hand over hers on the trolley handle.

She stopped and looked at him. ‘Because it’s asking for trouble.’

‘What do you mean?’ He tipped his head to one side, his brown eyes intent.

‘I’m sure you don’t need me to spell that out.’

‘You know I can behave myself. Haven’t I been good?’ His gaze slipped down to her mouth and she knew he was thinking about the kisses they’d shared at the end of each evening.

She looked at the food in her trolley. With the heat radiating from her cheeks, it was a wonder the chicken wasn’t grilling right in front of her.

‘Mostly,’ he said softly.

She refused to think about the
mostly
. He
had
been the perfect gentleman all week. But that didn’t make him any less threatening to her. His kisses had been restrained but they still made her feel more than she’d ever felt before. He pushed at her boundaries just by being near her. If he asked for more, she wondered if she’d have the strength to keep saying no. ‘You were.’

But she couldn’t keep playing with fire or she’d end up roasted. She was moving on in a few months—she needed to keep her eyes on her long-term plans.

‘Then how about a meal at the bistro? Plenty of people around. I want to talk to you.’

She tightened her hands around the handle of the trolley. He was right—they did need to talk. There were things she needed to say, too, things to clarify. Meeting on neutral ground at a restaurant would be the best place to do that. Less complicated.

‘Kayla?’

She realised her eyes were focussed on Tom’s lips. Wrenching her gaze back to his, she said, ‘All right.’

He blinked. ‘You will?’

‘You asked me, didn’t you?’ she said dryly, oddly satisfied by his scramble to keep up with her abrupt change of mind.

‘Yeah, I did, but you looked so intense there for a moment I didn’t expect you to agree.’ He grinned.

Kayla had to quell a little bubble of treacherous pleasure. He was so sure of himself, it was nice to see him thrown, just a little. ‘Yes, well, you’re right…we do have things to discuss.’

‘Uh-oh. I’m not so sure I like the sound of that.’ He looked at her quizzically. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Probably.’ She couldn’t suppress a small smile.

‘Oh, Tom, Dr Morgan.’ Kayla turned to see a pleasant-faced, plump woman beaming at them. ‘I’m so glad to catch the two of you like this. I wanted to thank you. You and Tom saved my Andy’s life a couple of weeks ago. At the accident on the main road.’

‘Mrs Smyth?’ Kayla said.

‘Mary, please.’

‘Mary. I saw Andy had been transferred home the other day.’ She mentally reviewed the patient notes, recalling a stent had been successfully fitted in one of his coronary arteries. ‘How is he?’

‘He’s so much better. We’ve got an appointment to come and see you next week so you’ll see for yourself then. It sounds crazy, and you’d never wish it on anyone, but that accident and his heart attack might be the best things to have happened to our marriage. A real wake-up call for him, for both of us.’

‘That’s wonderful.’ Kayla smiled warmly. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing the two of you.’

‘Anyway, I’m sorry to interrupt. But spotting you together was such a good opportunity to say thank you.’ She smiled knowingly, her gaze ping-ponging between her and Tom. ‘Anyway, you two have a nice evening.’

Kayla gritted her teeth.

‘Thanks, Mary. We will,’ Tom said.

‘Be careful or you’ll really have the grapevine thinking there’s something going on,’ Kayla said, when the woman had moved on.

‘There is.’

‘Yes, but…’ She huffed out a breath. ‘Never mind. What time shall I meet you?’

‘I’ll pick you up.’

‘No,’ she said firmly, wanting to circumvent any problems later. ‘I might get called out or you might, so I’d prefer to have my car.’

For a moment she thought he was going to argue, but then he nodded. ‘Seven o’clock?’

‘Okay.’

‘You’ve still got my phone number?’

‘Yes.’ She gave him a carefully bland look. ‘Let me finish my shopping. I’ll see you in an hour and a half.’

‘See you then.’ She watched him walk away, her eyes straying over the broad shoulders and straight back. He moved with a powerful masculine grace, sexy in ways she didn’t have any defences against. She reminded herself of all the reasons why getting involved with Tom was a bad idea. Coming to Dustin was just
one
step that she intended to take away from her old life—not the
only
step. Getting involved with anyone was not in her plans—no matter how tempting that
anyone
was.

Tom was such a powerful, compelling man that a woman could get lost in his shadow. Something she didn’t want for herself. She’d only just extracted herself from her family’s influence, especially from her father’s dominance.

Tom turned at the end of the aisle and looked back at her. A jolt like electricity ran through her from head to toe. How much better for her self-respect if she’d moved off as soon as he’d walked away. Instead, he’d caught her loitering beside the breakfast cereals, staring after him like a little lost soul. It was her own fault if he thought she was interested.

He raised his hand in a salute. Sighing, she lifted hers in reluctant acknowledgement.

Oh, yes, he tied her up in nice little knots.

Blast him.

Where was she?

He should have insisted on picking her up. But she’d wanted her car. Miss Independence. Not that he wanted a clinging vine but he hoped it wouldn’t be too long before she’d at least accept some things from him.

Tom looked at his watch again and blew out a breath.
Okay, so it wasn’t quite seven yet
. God, he’d never been this keyed up about a date in his entire life. To make matters worse, in Kayla’s eyes this wasn’t even a date—just an opportunity to talk.

He looked around at the door and there she was, speaking to the waitress.

Kayla. One kind of tension eased, only to be replaced immediately by another.

Her fitted dark green top moulded to her breasts, hugging the narrowness of her waist before flaring over the swell of her hips. A multicoloured swirling skirt draped to mid-calf.

He’d always thought short skirts were sexy but Kayla’s modest outfit stirred his senses more than any expanse of bare flesh would have. For the first time, he understood why the Victorians considered exposed ankles to be provocative.

His pulse bounded as he imagined his fingers closing like a bracelet around the narrow part of her shin then running up the soft skin. Under the hem of her skirt, over the roundness of her calf, the smoothness of her thighs…

Oh, hell
. He blew out a long breath, glad she hadn’t spotted him yet. Glad he had a moment to collect himself.

He wanted her.

Badly.

This week of caution and restraint had him champing at the bit. But it was worth it. Kayla was relaxing around him, laughing with him, teasing him. When he’d caught her in the supermarket earlier, her immediate reaction had been a spontaneous smile that had warmed his heart.

The tension between them now was all simmering attraction. He was positive. He was enjoying this slow seduction, enjoying her, the company. Even enjoying the frustration of not getting his own way, having to pursue her, work for her. Taking his time was worth the prize.

She turned and walked in his direction. When she got closer, he rose and held out the chair adjacent to him.

‘Thanks.’ She smiled at him and slipped into the seat.

The next few minutes were taken up with placing their order.

‘What did you want to talk to me about?’ Kayla said, her beautiful voice slightly husky.

‘Nothing serious until after we’ve eaten. Better for the digestion.’

‘All right. We’ll talk about other things.’ She straightened her cutlery in a small nervous movement that he found endearing. ‘Have you always wanted to be in the police force? Is this what the ten-year-old Tom Jamieson saw himself doing?’

He chuckled. ‘My ten-year-old self was a thorough ratbag and if he’d thought about it, he’d probably have seen himself on the other end of the long arm of the law.’

‘Really? What saved you from yourself?’

‘My parents and the senior constable who worked here at the time conspired to scare me straight.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing good.’

The silence stretched and her eyebrows rose.

‘You know I’m going to annoy you until you tell me,’ she said.

‘Yeah, I kind of got that feeling. You might not respect me in the morning.’

‘Try me.’

A dozen suggestive responses danced on his tongue but he suppressed them all, took a sip of his drink and settled for the truth. ‘My cousin and I broke into an uncle’s place and liberated some alcohol and cigarettes. Rather a lot of alcohol and cigarettes.’

‘Ah.’

He grimaced. ‘We made ourselves very,
very
sick.’

‘Nasty,’ she murmured.

‘It was. Our parents made us work on our uncle’s place gratis for the Christmas school holidays. Rory and I have both been model citizens ever since.’

‘I’m sure.’ Her eyes twinkled at him.

The discussion moved on to his work and carried them through the meal. Tom enjoyed telling her about his work, relished the perceptive questions she asked and her insights into human behaviour. In no time at all, the waitress had come back to clear their plates.

In the small silence that followed, he watched Kayla’s long fingers stroke the side of her glass.

‘Go out with me,’ he said, completely forgetting the speech he’d prepared to put his case.

Her eyes lifted to his and he read the conflict there. ‘No.’

‘Kayla…this chemistry between us isn’t something that comes along every day. Aren’t you curious about where it might lead?’

‘No.’ Her response was quick and short. Was she trying to convince him…or herself?

‘Are you denying the attraction is mutual?’ Let her try, he thought, remembering their kiss, the response he’d felt in her mobile lips.

‘I’m not denying it…but I—I don’t want to take it any further.’

Frustration welled up and so did poorly chosen words before he could stop them. ‘I’m asking you out on a date, not to leap into bed.’

Her mouth dropped open in a perfect oval of surprise. He shut his eyes and dragged a hand down his face.

‘Thank you for clarifying that.’ Her voice sounded strangled.

‘Bloody hell…why don’t I cut my tongue out now?’ He could feel the heat crawling into his cheeks. ‘All right. I admit it. That thought has crossed my mind, too. What can I say?’ He forced his mouth into a wry grin, hoping it might disarm her. ‘I’m a man.’

Her eyes were coolly amused. ‘Your honesty is…refreshing.’

‘Refreshing?’ He leaned his elbows on the table and looked at her. ‘Is that code for I’ve completely blown my chances?’

‘No, not at all.’ She reached for her glass and circled the base on the coaster.