Her Lawman Protector. Patricia Johns
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she said stepping aside to make room for the burly cop. He gave her a nod of thanks, then stepped into the apartment and looked around. She got the feeling that his eyes were picking up more detail than anyone else’s would. She knew how cops worked, how they thought.
She’d have a cop staying under her roof for the next little while, and that was a bit uncomfortable. Not only was he very, very male—she glanced over Jack, who was checking window locks—he was muscular and intimidating. But under that shell, she could see hints of a regular guy—the stubble on his chin, the scrape across the knuckles of one hand. Every cop had personal armor they put on when they were at work, but they were human, too. It was the “guy” part of him that made this the most awkward. She’d only just gotten comfortable living alone again, and she didn’t need reminders of what she was missing out on.
“I hope you don’t mind the couch,” Liv said. “It doesn’t pull out or anything.”
“I’m not exactly a houseguest,” Jack replied. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be sleeping with one eye open, anyway.”
“The water in the bathroom is a bit finicky,” she added. “It’s either piping hot or freezing. But there is a sweet spot, if you find it.”
“I’ll survive.” He shot her a rueful smile.
“Also, there’s a draft that I can’t seem to find the source of. We might need to move the couch about a foot if you don’t want to freeze at night.”
When Evan had shown her the place before they’d signed all the papers, they’d felt that draft and Evan had jokingly suggested a ghost. She hated being spooked, and back then, Evan had loved getting her into his arms... She pushed back the melancholy memory.
“You okay?” he asked. Liv looked up to find Jack’s dark gaze fixed on her.
“Fine.” She pushed the sadness back. Missing Evan took her by surprise sometimes, even though she knew that he wasn’t worth her heartache.
“So when you bought this place, you bought it jointly?” Jack asked.
“Of course.” She gave him a speculative look. What exactly did he think of her marriage? Evan had loved her once upon a time. “Jack, have you ever been married?”
“Not yet. Lived with a woman once, but we never got to a wedding. Why?”
“Because married people tend to buy things jointly,” she replied with a shake of her head. “We were married. We had a life together. I wasn’t tucked away in the background somewhere.”
“Got it,” he replied.
“Although being married to a cop is a whole new kettle of fish,” she admitted. “They have too many secrets. I’ll never marry another one.”
“And all cops are the same?” He pulled away from the window and glanced back at her.
“All cops do the same job,” she said. “And it attracts a certain personality type. You pour yourself into your work, teamwork is life-or-death and you stick to your code.”
Jack shrugged. “All right. But most of us have a finer sense of right and wrong than your ex-husband.”
Did they? She’d heard of a few affairs in the Denver precinct over the years she was married to Evan. And for all of Jack’s declarations of disapproval, he’d been at the wedding where Evan had married his mistress.
“You’re done with cops, then?” Jack asked after a moment.
“Completely,” she replied with a wry smile. “Call me selfish, but I don’t like coming in second place to anything in my husband’s heart.”
“Fair enough.”
She wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to—her desire to steer clear of cops or her stance on marital priorities. It didn’t matter.
“When was the last time you talked to Evan?” Jack asked.
“A couple of weeks ago,” she replied. “He called me, for the record.”
The sound of his voice had rattled her. She’d been having a tough morning, and he’d purred into her ear like he had back when they were married. It hadn’t been fair.
“What did he want?”
“His grandmother’s brooch. He thought I still had it, and he wanted his wife to be able to wear it.”
“Did you have it?” Jack asked.
“No, I don’t have it,” she replied with a sigh. “I’m not petty enough to hijack family heirlooms.”
And yet the image of Officer Hot Pants wearing that brooch still rankled her. She remembered how touched she’d been when Evan had given it to her the Christmas after they were married. It had seemed so heavy with meaning... So much for that.
Liv looked around the small apartment, from the open living room and kitchen to the closed bedroom and bathroom doors. It looked like they’d be in some very close quarters together for the next little while, and she didn’t like this uneven balance of power in her own home.
“This is going to be awkward,” she said suddenly. “We could make it less awkward if we have a few ground rules.”
“Lights-out time?” he asked. “Shower schedule?”
“I was thinking more like a tit-for-tat sort of arrangement. I get that I’m the one needing police protection, but that leaves me giving all the information, telling all my personal stuff, and you get to keep your privacy.”
Jack grew still, but his eyes didn’t leave her face. “That’s the job description, Liv. Is it a problem?”
“For me.” She headed to the kitchen, and Jack followed as she talked. “I hated that—the police secrecy all the time—and I don’t feel like living with it again.”
She started to stack dishes in the sink.
“I’m afraid I can’t help much there,” he said.
“Oh, but you can.” She shot him a smile over her shoulder. “I know you can’t reveal police secrets, but you can reveal a bit about yourself. I propose a deal. For every personal thing I tell you, you have to match me.”
“With what?” He sounded uncomfortable.
“With information of your own. I didn’t choose this! I’m a victim in this whole situation, yet I have a virtual stranger living with me for the next while. That’s invasive. I’d feel a lot better if I wasn’t the only one having all her personal business laid bare.”
Jack laughed softly. “I could see that.”
“Well?” Liv grabbed a towel and turned around to face him.
“It’s highly irregular,” he replied.
“So?” She spread her hands. “You think this isn’t irregular for me, too?”
She was tired of trying to shrink herself, take up less space, both physically and emotionally. She’d survived the worst she could imagine when her husband left her, and she’d promised herself never to back into a corner again.
“I’m here to protect you,” Jack qualified.
“Which I appreciate,” she agreed. “But you’re still here, in my home, in my business.”
Jack met her gaze for a moment, and she watched him, waiting. He was trying to hide what he was feeling, but a nervous tapping of one finger on his belt gave him away.
“All right,” he said at last. “Tit for tat.”
“Good.” She glanced at her watch. “You might want to call on that officer to collect your clothes. We’ve got a barbecue to attend.”
Liv hated this—officially. She wanted her own space, her privacy. She hated