The Protector. Jule Mcbride
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thought of his imposing frame. Square-jawed, tall and broad-shouldered, he looked like a rich frat boy, except for his eyes. Too probing and intelligent, they set him apart from the macho cops who’d taken the job for their ego, because they liked carrying guns.
Sullivan was another breed. He reeked tenacity and competency, and yet Judith knew she’d be a fool to trust him. He aroused her curiosity, though, and even she could admit that the interest wasn’t entirely case-related. Sometimes, in his office, she’d catch her eyes drifting over him, taking in the tapering V of his upper body, the flat belly beneath his shirt, and how the drape of his trousers accentuated long, well-muscled legs. A sudden shudder would ripple through her.
Well, today, no matter how his imposing physicality and challenging attitude tempted her, she wasn’t going to tell him she’d found fifteen million dollars in his mother’s account. No, Judith would patiently await the court order she’d filed, since it might allow her to delve more deeply, connecting the money in Sheila’s account to that stolen from the Citizens Action Committee fund.
And presto, she thought. Her case would be solved.
Unfortunately, as her hand curled over the door handle, she felt a stab of unwanted guilt as she thought of the amber fire burning in Sullivan Steele’s eyes. At times, she was utterly convinced he thought his father was innocent. If so, she was going to have to shatter his trust in a man he loved. She swallowed hard, since she knew better than anyone what shattered trust could do.
“Let’s do it,” she said grimly. The sooner she started, the sooner this would be over. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her jacket, groaning as she shrugged into it. Leave it to Sullivan to force her to wear a jacket in this heat. But she simply couldn’t go into his office without it. After all, he always wore one, even in public buildings, which were kept at temperatures approaching the boiling point.
As she lifted her shoulder bag, she realized it was unclasped, and a soft smile curled her lips as she impulsively plucked out an envelope. Suddenly, her heart missed a beat, skipping with excitement as she thought back to the day she’d found the bottle.
She’d been on the Perry Street pier, where she’d taken a walk after a predictably rocky encounter with Sullivan, when she’d first noticed the pale amber bottle caught in an eddy against the Hudson shore, kept in place by rocks and driftwood. Seeing paper rolled inside, Judith had gingerly made her way down the hilly embankment, despite the high heels she’d been wearing, and had lifted the bottle from the water.
She would never forget the magical rush of elation she’d felt when she read the letter inside. “Dear Lady of my Dreams,” were the opening words, and the sender was like no man she’d ever known. He sounded sensitive, kind and passionate. Before writing him, Judith had put a trace on his P.O. box, of course, but she’d come up empty-handed, something she’d decided was good. Of course, if she really had to, she could flash her badge at the post office and get the information. She was just glad that, like her, the sender was cautious and self-protective, which meant he was a realist. She, too, had an untraceable box, though she didn’t usually use it for love letters, but so that officers could report confidential information about their precincts.
This letter had been in her box today. Her eyes trailed over the words.
Lady, can we meet? When I tossed the bottle into the Hudson, I imagined it being found years from now, by a woman in another country. I never guessed it might simply wash up on shore, and be answered by someone in New York, or that we’d start corresponding. Of course, we haven’t gotten specific about the details of our lives—what we do professionally, or where we live….
Judith had intentionally withheld those details, and she suspected her pen pal had done so also, since details would make it easy to figure out their identities. Neither of them, it seemed, were very inclined to take risks.
Was she ready to do so now?
Her heart ached. After all these years, was a man about to come into her life? She’d never have sought that out; she’d been running too long from a background she wanted to keep buried in the past. But now…
No. Judith shook her head. She didn’t dare agree to meet him. Pushing the envelope into her bag, she fastened the clasp, slung the strap over her shoulder, then stepped into the stifling heat. “I’m here to see Captain Steele,” she announced when she reached the attendant’s booth and pressed her badge against the glass window.
As he picked up a telephone, the attendant said, “I’ll let him know you’re here, Ms. Hunt.” And then he buzzed her inside.
SULLY BARELY MANAGED to shrug into his jacket before Judith swept into his office, and having to put it on solely for her benefit was seriously worsening his already dark mood, if that was possible.
“You look cheerful,” Judith remarked without preliminaries, her eyes traveling over the blue jacket he’d put on, as if noting it was the exact color as hers. Difference was, Sully thought, that the blue, while doing little for him, brought out the intense color of her eyes.
Telling himself not to notice, he said dryly, “Do I?”
“Just like one of those smiley faces,” Judith assured him. “In fact, if they ever do a smiley face movie, Steele, you could be a body double.”
“I’ll have McFee issue a filming permit immediately.”
“Really,” she continued, “you don’t look so hot.”
“Quite the opposite.”
The heat wave had turned his precinct into a madhouse, tempers all over the city were burning out of control, and he’d been putting out fires all day—quite literally, due to an arson case. It had been the wrong moment to hear that Judith was about to float through the squad room on those endless legs. Since he’d received a heads-up call from the parking lot, Sully had at least been somewhat prepared—as prepared as he ever could be for Judith Hunt—so had taken his time in studying her easy, unencumbered stroll across the squad room. By the time she breezed into his office, he felt like a member of the angry mob outside, not an officer trained to subdue them.
He shot her a sweet smile. “Well, Ms. Hunt, we can’t all be blessed with your chipper demeanor, you know.”
“Ah,” she replied, her smile just as saccharine, the awareness sparking in her eyes making him wonder if she wasn’t secretly enjoying the repartee, “wouldn’t the world be a better place if everyone had my sunny disposition?”
That would be the day. At least she knew she was a control freak. What other kind of person would wear a jacket when the mercury shot over a hundred? “Have a nice time on your desert island?” He hadn’t bothered to rise from his seat behind his desk—secretly, Sully was thinking he might faint from heatstroke if he did—and now he nodded toward a chair. “Care for a seat?”
“Thanks,” she said, but didn’t take it. “It wasn’t exactly a vacation, Steele.”
No, she’d been down there looking for his father. “Well,” Sully conceded, “it didn’t exactly turn out to be the most productive month for you, either.” His brother Rex had fared better on Seduction Island, finding out their father was definitely alive. But Sully figured he’d keep that to himself.
Her chin reset defensively. “Excuse me?”
“You haven’t found my father,” he returned, wishing she’d sit. Every second she remained standing, insisting on towering over him, he was tempted to rise, and since he was sweltering, he’d much prefer to stay seated. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a seat?” he prompted again. “Believe me, I suggest it solely for my own benefit. If I have to keep staring up at you, Judith, I might get whiplash.”
She almost smiled at that. Even worse, he almost instinctively smiled back. “So sue me.”
“Maybe I will. Can I retire on a whiplash settlement?”
“How would I know?”
“You’re a lawyer. I thought you all took