South Island PD: Dark Blue Part 13

"No," she lied. No way was she getting out of bed to wash her face and moisturize. Not tonight.

"Okay. Just making sure." The weight and heat of his body in her bed was both foreign and after what they'd just done familiar. When he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close against his naked body, her heart leapt. "My first time spending the night with a princess. No idea how royalty gets ready for bed."

She exhaled sharply, still a little too breathless to laugh. "Are you really going to keep calling me Princess?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because it makes me think of the ridiculous idea you used to have about me being better than you which I never was."

He drew his arm tighter around her, until she could feel his heart beating against her back. "Forget I said that, then. 'Cuz the name is sticking. It just fits."

"Okay then ... Prince Charming."

He scoffed, his breath rus.h.i.+ng against the back of her neck. "I'll try my best to live up to that, but you'll have to be patient with me."

She wriggled against him, quickly growing addicted to his heat and the way it insulated her against the chill of the AC. "Don't worry; I'd put up with a lot to relive the past hour."

The sound of his laughter made her heart light.

She closed her eyes, aware of the unmistakable pressure of another erection pressing against her a.s.s, where she'd settled it against his groin.

He was still hard, even when the pattern of his breathing told her he'd fallen asleep.

Jackson was gone when Belle woke up to the sound of her alarm. She remembered him setting his, but she must've either slept through it or fallen back asleep and forgotten the disruption.

Seven o'clock light streamed through her blinds, making her gauzy kitchen curtains luminesce. The only sign he'd been there was a pot of fresh coffee. That, and the ache in her core.

Sinking down at the kitchen table with a mug, she sighed. Six to six. That was his daytime s.h.i.+ft. He must've gotten up hours ago to head home, shower and get a clean uniform. She almost felt bad for keeping him up late, except...

She was incapable of truly regretting the night before.

For a while, she floated in a haze of tired satisfaction. Slowly but surely, the coffee brought her to life. Jackson brewed it strong just like she liked it. It was another drop in the bucket of things he did that brought her pleasure.

Everyone had their flaws, their rough edges ... but so far, she hadn't seen any of his. Other than the bizarre way he'd apparently underestimated himself in the past.

Princess. As ridiculous as she'd felt when he'd first called her that, her feelings had started to change when he'd used the endearment the night before, with her naked in his lap. Now, remembering the nickname made her blush and tingle with pleasure.

She couldn't wait to see him again. Showering and dressing on autopilot, she prepared for a workday she couldn't have been less excited about.

It was the morning after her first night with Jackson in six years and there was only room in her mind for him: the cop who'd taken her virginity and now, the cop she couldn't get enough of.

Jackson drove by the Sanders' house. Not because he'd gone out of his way, but because their street was the fastest way to cut toward one of the best and cheapest sandwich shops on the south side of the island.

He saw her as soon as he turned onto the block: Kate Sanders on the porch, watering a hanging basket overflowing with ferns.

Regret and anger welled up inside him, even a sense of betrayal. Mostly, though, he felt pity. The emotions combined to make his foot heavy, and he slowed to a roll as he neared the curb in front of her house.

She stopped and stared, those impossibly slender arms holding the watering can upright. Her mouth cracked open, and her jaw drifted down. There was only one car in the driveway. When Sanders had been home the other day, there'd been two.

She was alone.

Her gaze pulled on him like a cold tide, sucking him into waters he had no business being in.

But somebody had to do something. He slowed to a stop in front of her house.

As soon as he stopped moving, she started, setting the watering can on the porch and descending the stairs, coming toward him.

He rolled down his window as she approached the side of his cruiser.

"Officer Calder." There were dark circles under her eyes from exhaustion, not punches. The dark spot on her jaw, however, was a different story.

He stared at the bruise beside her chin. The purple smudge showed from beneath the make-up she'd tried to hide it with, a little larger than a quarter. She'd either been hit or shoved against something.

"Mrs. Sanders. Can I help you with anything?"

She dropped her gaze and shook her head. Her dark bangs all but covered her eyes. "I'm sorry about you know, the other day."

"No need to be sorry. If you need help, that's what we're here for."

Too late, he realized what a stupid thing he'd said. We're. Her own husband a South Island officer was her tormenter.

"I'm here to help," he amended.

"I don't need any help. But thank you for being so understanding about our ... our mix-up."

The muscles in his jaw tightened, giving life to a dull headache. He wanted to tell her to drop the facade, that it wouldn't do her any good in the long run. He wanted to tell her that her husband was an epic piece of s.h.i.+t, and that she should get out from under his roof yesterday.

"How's the baby?" he asked instead.

She flinched as if he'd raised a hand.

"He's just fine. Napping right now." She tapped a piece of equipment clipped to the belt loop of her jeans a baby monitor.

Jackson's reserve his professionalism wavered precariously. He didn't normally have trouble keeping his head on his shoulders. His childhood had taught him to put up an impa.s.sive front, to suffer in silence. But that was exactly what made it so hard to look Kate Sanders in the eye and then drive away without doing jack s.h.i.+t for her or her baby.

"Mrs. Sanders, I hope you don't mind my saying so, but I grew up with a father a lot like your husband. I wouldn't wish that on anybody. Not you, and especially not a child."

Her mouth cracked open again, then drooped at the corners.

He lost eye contact and could sense that he'd lost her too.

"I've got to go," she said. "The baby might wake up."

"That bruise on your jaw looks painful," he said. "Blows to the face can be dangerous you should get checked out by a doctor, if you haven't already."

She looked away, frowning. "I'm fine. It it's not what you think. I have to go."

She turned her back on him and hurried to her house before he could say another word.

He cursed as her screen door banged shut. As he drove away, hot pressure built up under his breastbone, a physical manifestation of his frustration.

He didn't enjoy his lunch at the sandwich shop like he usually did. Feeling guilty for allowing himself the pleasure of sitting down to dine after his failure, he wallowed in negative thoughts for a while before s.h.i.+fting his focus back to last night.

Belle. The thought of their night together made him forget his headache. She was like a drug he could turn to at any time, taking a hit of the memories they'd made in her bed memories that gave him an instant rush.

If he wasn't careful, he'd get used to it. Then where would he be if this didn't work out if she decided she wanted more than just a beat cop with a headful of s.h.i.+tty memories he couldn't even use to help others stuck in the same situations?

The thought sucked the joy right out of him, but then he remembered the way she'd sucked his c.o.c.k, moaning with her lips tight around him, and the way she'd cried out and come around his d.i.c.k afterward.

The thoughts he dwelled on the longest were the ones where she'd spent the night naked in his arms.

Last night had been good for both of them. So good that he sat there with a s.h.i.+t-eating grin on his face despite his f.u.c.ked-up day. She might be a princess, but she'd made him feel like a king.

CHAPTER 13.

"I could've sworn I had her transcripts and everything on my desk last week," Belle said. She kept her works.p.a.ce neat, and there was only one small stack of papers to rifle through.

Nothing.

"I need them today," Keira said. "Actually, yesterday."

"I'm sorry. I know we're on a tight deadline with this one..."

"Well, we all lost time last week, what with the police coming into the office to investigate what our secret admirer left us. Can't be helped. But I absolutely need those transcripts by the end of the day. She should've sent them in weeks ago."

Belle nodded. "Let me call her schools and ask them to fax over copies. Those should suffice until we can get official copies in the mail, right?"

Keira nodded.

"Okay. Unless..." Belle pushed her office chair backward, wheeling toward the door. "Zackary?"

He abandoned the reception desk to approach her office. "Yeah?"

"Have you seen McKenna Sh.e.l.ley's transcripts? I could've sworn they were in my office last week. She's that nursing student transferring from out of state."

"Uh-uh." He shook his head slowly. "On my first day here, Keira told me that if I ever touched anything in your guys' offices, she'd smack me over the knuckles with a ruler. I took her seriously."

Belle glanced at Keira's unapologetic expression and stifled a smile. "All right. If they turn up, let me know. Maybe I threw them out by mistake."

Frowning, she picked up her office phone.

Keira and Zackary left her alone to make contact with McKenna's high school and current college, trying to right whatever she'd done wrong.

She hated to make a mistake like this four months into the job. Sure, the "surprise," as Keira put it, had been a minor distraction. But that was no excuse for losing a student's doc.u.ments. The true distraction had been Jackson Belle had spent a lot of time lost in thoughts of South Island's hottest officer, lately.

Only she knew that, but it made her feel guilty, just the same.

Was it possible the Charleston police officer who'd inspected their office last week had removed the transcripts from her office when he'd searched it for anything amiss?

Not likely. He'd had no reason to be interested in them. Maybe he'd moved them, though picked them up and put them down somewhere else.

The distraction forced her out of her own head, necessitating that she put thoughts of the previous night on the backburner so she could focus on work.

It felt like penance, and the thought made her smile. Maybe it was for the best that something time-sensitive had come up. Otherwise, she probably would've spent most of the day reminiscing in her office.

As soon as she got off the phone with the high school, Zackary rapped on her door.

"Come in." She kept ahold of the phone, poised to dial McKenna's college.

"Any luck with those transcripts?" he asked.

"The student's high school was cooperative, thank G.o.d. I still need to get in touch with her college, though."

"Oh. Well, I'm heading out on a coffee run. Want anything?"

She grabbed her purse and fished out a bill. "A coffee would be great."

"Cream, no sugar?"

"That's right."

"Gotcha. Back in fifteen minutes."

"Thanks."

After he left, she tried not to wonder whether he would've invited her to go on the coffee run with him if she hadn't been so busy.

Probably not. He hadn't hinted at anything like that since she'd refused to let him buy her lunch.

The thought made her smile despite herself. College guys seemed pretty much the same now as they had back when she'd been a student. Even then, she'd considered most of them boyish nice enough in some cases, but usually immature. By the time she'd finished school, she'd had no romantic interest whatsoever in any of her cla.s.smates.

And she knew exactly why. Jackson had spoiled her rotten at the tender age of twenty-one. Much more mature in mind and body, he'd been a man in ways college boys just hadn't had a chance of competing with. She'd been keenly aware of the contrast, especially after the summer break between her junior and senior year.

But it wasn't just her college peers who'd paled in comparison. n.o.body from her adult life had come close to measuring up either, least of all her a.s.shat of an ex-fiance.

"Good lord!" Minutes later, Keira's voice carried straight through Belle's office door, uncharacteristically shrill. "What happened to you?"