Part-Time Wife. Сьюзен Мэллери
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a part of life. No one gets everything all the time.”
He was intrigued. And impressed. “Did you win?”
She smiled slowly. “Yes, but at first I was afraid I wasn’t going to. For what it’s worth, he was a very gracious loser.”
“That’s something.” The pain at the back of his neck got worse. He rubbed it, wondering when it was going to go away. Probably about the time he got his life together. Like in the next century or so.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just stress.”
“Do you want some aspirin?”
“That would be great.”
She walked across the family room and into her bedroom. When she returned carrying two pills in the palm of her hand, he felt another flash of pain that had nothing to do with the tightness of his muscles. This one involved his soul.
He missed being a part of someone’s life. He missed the day-to-day sameness of married life. He didn’t miss being married to Krystal, but he missed being emotionally committed to a woman.
He looked at Jill, at her pert features and her bright green eyes. She smiled as she handed over the medication. Their hands barely touched, yet he felt the jolt all the way to his groin.
He’d hired Jill for the boys, to make their lives stable. He hadn’t known inviting her into his home was going to cause him to want all the things he knew he could never have.
“How was your day?” Jill asked as Craig took the aspirin and swallowed.
He hesitated, not sure how to answer her question. A lot of his special project was confidential. Before he could decide what to tell her she settled in the seat opposite him and wrinkled her nose.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said briskly. “I understand you’re involved in something secret. I wasn’t asking to get privileged information, I was just being polite. You know. How was your day? My day was fine. That sort of thing.”
She tugged on a sleeve of her sweatshirt, pulling the cuff until it was up near her elbow. As she repeated the procedure on her other arm, he noticed how small and delicate her wrists were.
“I’m not used to someone asking,” he said at last, mostly because it was the truth. Lately no one had been around enough to bother. He leaned back in his chair and studied the bottle of beer in front of him. “It was…difficult. Every time I think I’m immune to the scum of the world, they manage to surprise me.”
She scooted forward and rested her elbows on the table. “What are they doing now?”
“I can’t talk about the specifics of the case, but I’ll tell you what was reported in the press.” He grimaced. “Not on the front page, of course. Someone ripping off the elderly isn’t exciting enough.”
“Is that what’s going on?”
“Yeah. There’s a ring of three, maybe four people who get in accidents with senior drivers. They’ll stop suddenly so they get rear-ended, or they turn left on a yellow light and drive slow enough to get hit. Anything to make the victims think the accident is their fault. Then they pretend to be concerned, talking about how an aging parent lost his or her license because of an accident. They mention increased insurance rates. It’s based on truth, which makes it more frightening for the victims. Often they convince the senior drivers to pay in cash for damages to the car.”
“The price of which is several times what it’s supposed to be, right?” Jill asked, her green eyes flashing with anger. “How horrible. I don’t understand people like that. It’s cruel and ugly. I’m glad you’re doing something to stop them.”
Craig stared at her, surprised by the vehemence of her reaction. Sometimes he talked to his brothers about his work. Except for Jordan, they were cops and they understood. Krystal never had. When he’d tried to talk about his work, she’d gotten bored. In her opinion the fools of the world got what they deserved.
Now, with the perfect vision of hindsight, he wondered what he’d ever seen in her. But he already knew the answer to that question. At twenty-two she’d been stunningly beautiful with a body that could tempt a saint. She knew how to use her best assets to her advantage, and for some reason, she’d set her sights on him. He hadn’t been thinking with his head when he’d proposed. The worst of it was, he couldn’t even regret what had happened between them. Marrying Krystal had been a mistake, but he would do it all over again if given the choice. The reward of his children wasn’t something he could wish away.
“It’s slow going,” he said, and shrugged. “I’m working with a team of elderly citizens. We’re mounting a sting operation.”
She grinned. “I bet they’re great to work with.”
“They are,” he agreed. “There’s this one woman, Mrs. Hart. She lives alone. She’s got to be seventy, but you’d never know it. She’s been begging me to let her wear a wire.” He glanced at Jill. “A microphone and tape. She keeps cruising around the seniors center and the bingo halls, hoping they’ll pick her. I keep telling her she’s seen too many movies.”
“She sounds terrific.”
“Yeah.” His smile faded and he hunched over his beer. “I hope they don’t get her. A couple of the accidents didn’t go as planned. The timing was off, or the jerks doing this stopped too soon. A woman was killed.”
“Oh, Craig.” She reached across the table and touched his hand with her fingers. The light brush wasn’t erotic. Nor was it meant to be. Instead, the caring gesture offered comfort and he accepted it.
“We’ll get ’em. I don’t usually do this kind of work, but the detectives needed some assistance and I volunteered. When the hours keep me away from the kids, I try to justify it by telling myself I’m doing the right thing.”
“You are,” she assured him. She pulled her hand away and laced her fingers together on the edge of the table. “Why a cop?”
“That’s easy. I come from a long line of cops. Four generations on my dad’s side. All my uncles—my dad was one of six. Two of my brothers. Jordan’s the only holdout. He’s a fire fighter. We tease him about it.” Craig took a sip of beer. “If you ask me, anyone voluntarily going into a burning building day after day is crazy.”
“Some people would say that about what you do.”
“Maybe.”
The corners of her mouth tilted up. “So you’re one of four boys, you have five uncles and three boys of your own. There aren’t many girls in your family, are there?”
“There hadn’t been one born in four generations. My brother Travis had a girl, though.”
“Oh, progress for the female gender.”
“Jordan has a theory that Haynes men only have girls when they’re in love. If it’s true, it doesn’t say much about the last four generations of husbands. Or my marriage. Elizabeth—that’s Travis’s wife—says it’s more about the female being predisposed to accept male or female sperm. She pointed out that she’s one of three girls, and she comes from a family that mostly has daughters. I guess when Kyle and Sandy have their baby we’ll know who’s right.”
Jill was staring at him as if he’d grown a second head. “You look lost,” he said.
“I am. All these names. How big is your family?”
“I have three brothers and Austin. He’s family, but not by blood.”
“Where are your folks?”
He didn’t like talking about that, but it