Perfect Partners?. C.J. Carmichael
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came out of the kitchen with a potpie for Nathan. She always wore her dark hair tied back, but one strand usually defied orders and needed to be tucked behind her ear at periodic intervals. Wendy did this now as she hesitated at their table.
“I recognize you,” Wendy said. “Your picture was in the paper. You’re the cop who shot that rich lawyer’s kid.”
Resignation, pain, anger…Lindsay wasn’t sure which emotion flashed over Nathan’s face, in the brief instant before he was able to compose himself.
“That’s me.”
“The press hung you out to dry, but we weren’t fooled.” She glanced at Mark, who was drying glasses behind the bar, but keeping an eye on them at the same time. “That kid deserved every ounce of trouble you gave him, and then some. So how did things end up for you? You get fired?”
“No, actually, my name was cleared last week. Then I quit.”
“Yeah? I didn’t see anything about that in the paper.”
“The story ran this Wednesday. A short article near the end of the section. I’m not surprised you missed it.”
Lindsay was appalled. “So they tar and feather you in the headlines, then exonerate you in the back pages? That stinks.”
Nathan heaved his big shoulders. “That’s life in the fast lane.”
“Hang on,” Wendy said. “I’m bringing you another mineral water. On the house.”
Lindsay smiled as she watched Wendy hurry back to the bar. “You sure won her over.”
Nathan poked his dinner with his fork, then lifted his gaze. “More important—have I won you over?”
Lindsay hesitated. Despite her reservations, he was wearing her down. “I’ll think about it,” she finally allowed.
“Think fast,” he said. “This is a time limited offer.”
AS NATHAN EASED THE DEAD BOLT into position, he heard his sister creep down the stairs.
“Quiet.” She held a finger to her lips. “Justin finally fell asleep.”
He nodded, slipped off his shoes, then made his way silently to the kitchen. Mary-Beth followed, going straight for the fridge.
“Are you hungry? I could whip up a stir-fry with the leftovers from dinner.”
“I’m starving,” he admitted. The chicken potpie at the dive Lindsay seemed to love had been inedible. He didn’t know how she kept her great figure on such a terrible diet. “But I can make my own dinner. You sit for a minute.”
“I don’t mind,” Mary-Beth tried to insist.
“Well, I do. I am the better cook, you know.” It was so not true. He was trying to goad her into retaliating. Maybe even coax a smile from her weary-looking face. But his younger sister just melted into her chair and sank her arms and head to the table.
“What comes after the terrible twos? Please tell me it’s the terrific threes.”
“I haven’t got a clue. But Justin isn’t that terrible, as a rule.”
“Not for you, he isn’t, but lately he fights me on everything. He doesn’t want the blue pajamas, he wants the red ones. He won’t drink his milk, he wants apple juice.” She sighed. “Sometimes I wish…”
She didn’t finish, but he could guess what she was longing for. She still hadn’t told him why she and her ex-husband, Logan, had broken up, but it was clear that she—and her son—missed the guy.
“So where were you out so late? Did you have a date?”
He snorted. “Right.” Since the shooting he hadn’t been in the mood for dating, or even hanging out with friends. Most of his buddies were on the force, anyway. And right now, all he wanted was distance from them.
“What they did to you wasn’t right, but you can’t be bitter, Nathan. The bullet wounds have healed…you need to let the mental wounds heal, too. Start living your life, again, having fun.”
Nathan nodded, as if he agreed. But as close as he was to his sister, he’d never expect her to understand. Their dad had been a hero. A real, genuine hero. All his life, Nathan had wanted to live up to that standard. And what had happened?
His name had been maligned in the headlines of the very paper that had once lauded his father as a hero. Columns that had praised his old man for sacrificing his life to save a stranger had accused Nathan of being a bigot and a coward, shooting without cause based on the color of a kid’s skin.
He pulled ingredients from the fridge and began chopping. “You’re a fine one to talk about fun. When’s the last time you went on a date?” His sister was a pretty woman and she’d moved out of her husband’s house six months ago. It was time she started living her life again, too.
“It’s different for me. I have Justin.”
“He’s a great kid, but you need more.”
“Eventually I will,” she agreed. “It’s still too soon for me. Logan and I were together for six years.”
So what happened? He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to probe. He sprayed olive oil into a sauté pan and waited for it to heat.
“At least I have a job that I love,” Mary-Beth continued, referring to her new teaching position at Columbia University. “Have you thought about what you want to do next?”
“I’m going to be a professional investigator. Like Magnum P.I.,” he joked, citing the old TV series that his sister had confessed to watching late at night when she’d been breast-feeding Justin.
Finally a smile cracked his sister’s face. “That sounds great, Nathan. As long as you skip the mustache.”
She rose from her chair, stretched and yawned. “Early start tomorrow. I’d better get some sleep.”
“G’ night, sis.” After she’d given him a hug, he turned back to his cooking, tossing the chopped vegetables and tofu into the hot oil.
Being treated like a criminal had definitely taken the fun out of life. Leaving the force had felt like his only option. But it had also marked the end of a lifelong dream. Since he’d been a young boy, he’d always wanted to be a cop. Now he needed another dream.
He still wanted to go after the bad guys. But from now on, he was going to pick the caliber of people he would work with.
People like Lindsay Fox.
Maybe she cut corners more than he liked, but she was bright and committed. Best of all, she wasn’t out for personal glory, didn’t take on cases just for some easy money. She cared about making the world a better place. She cared about justice.
Nathan added spices into the stir-fry and gave it a final toss before sitting down at the table. Eating straight from the pan, he thought about the glimpse into Lindsay’s life he’d had today.
When he’d seen her ad in the paper, he’d done his research. As well as checking out her clients and her business, he’d dug into her personal life. He knew that she was still single, that she ended most of her days at that greasy pub, knocking back several paralyzers before making her way to her apartment just one block from the office.
Though she was strikingly attractive, with pale blond hair, translucent skin and hauntingly beautiful blue eyes, she didn’t date much. It seemed her socializing, if you wanted to call it that, centered around the pub he’d visited tonight.
What kind of life was that for a woman who was just thirty years old? From personal experience, he knew the woman was passionate. So why wasn’t she involved with anyone?
Ghosts lay in her past, he was sure of that. If they ended up working together again—and he was pretty determined that they would—maybe he would