Just Pretending. Myrna Mackenzie
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wasn’t going to let just anyone waltz in here and start calling the shots. He could see why Rafe Rawlings had put her in charge.
He raised one brow. “You make a good point there, Detective Neal, but I can assure you that won’t be a problem. In my line of work, dead bodies show up more often than I care to remember.” As always, David did his best not to think back on those scenes. Moving on was the only way to get past the memories and deal with the job effectively. He didn’t like sloppy work any more than Gretchen Neal did.
“Ms. Neal,” he continued. “I assure you I’ll keep my warm body out of the way as much as possible. I’m here to help, not to hinder.” His voice swooped low on those last words, almost the way a man would speak to a lover, and the lady blinked. She raised her chin higher, the slightest touch of rose in her cheeks just about the only hint that she was anything other than calm. He understood her consternation. He’d been a loner for most of his life and he knew all about that need to hold everything close, that unwillingness to give up even one thread of control to anyone.
For one second, one very brief second when she looked up at him, David could have sworn that the look in Gretchen Neal’s eyes spoke of vulnerability. Immediately the shades came down on her soul.
“I’m sure you mean well, but I—that is, I really don’t know you, Mr. Hannon, so I can’t very well take your word on that, can I? Would you take me on without question if the circumstances were reversed?”
A low chuckle sounded behind her and David was glad for the interruption. She made a good point, an excellent point, but he wasn’t sure just how he would have answered. Gretchen Neal was an eyeful and an armful—and a good cop, according to her co-workers and his own gut instinct. David had the feeling she’d be a hard lady to turn away from.
“Easy, Gretch,” Rafe Rawlings, sheriff and owner of the low chuckle said. “I know this guy. He’s clean. How’ve you been, David?”
“Busy,” David said with a smile as he shook hands with the sheriff. “But probably not as busy as you appear to have been lately.”
Rafe shrugged. “I hear you’re going to give us a hand. In an unofficial capacity, that is. Just heard from Phil Baker.”
“In an unofficial way,” David agreed.
“Rafe, have you considered the problems? This case is personal for Mr. Hannon,” Gretchen said.
Rafe held up one hand. “You know almost everyone in town, Gretchen, and so do I. All our cases are personal.”
“They’re not family.”
“David’s a pro. One of the best and brightest. He’ll handle it.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it again, but her eyes were worried when she hazarded a glance at David. Clearly she wouldn’t take her argument to the next step, blatantly questioning his professionalism, but she still didn’t like the situation.
“It’s a good move, Gretchen,” Rafe said quietly. “David’s lived here all his life. I know him. He cares what happens here. He’ll make a good partner. You lead. He’ll assist. Tomorrow will be soon enough to start. You’re a pro, too, Gretch. Get over your objections by the morning. That’s an order.”
She sighed and nodded slightly. “You’re the sheriff, Sheriff.”
Rafe smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he said goodbye and strolled away.
“Partners?” she whispered, her consternation evident.
David wanted to smile at the break in her voice, but he restrained himself. This lady didn’t want him around at all, and he’d already won the battle. No point in aggravating the good detective.
“Get to know me, Neal, before you decide I’m the enemy. I’m interested in the truth,” he said quietly. “And I intend to follow this through to the end no matter what that truth may turn out to be.”
He also intended to discover another truth if he could, David thought as he bid her good-day. What was it about Gretchen Neal’s soft green eyes that made him want to step in close and risk her bite? Just once before this case was closed, he hoped he’d get the chance to find out.
She’d argued too hard, Gretchen thought when David Hannon walked away, and she knew the reason. It wasn’t because of his personal connection to the case, although she’d been right to question it and Rafe had been right to set her straight. It wasn’t even because of the implication that she could use help from an outside agency, although her pride made her like to think that she could close this case alone. It did have something to do with the fact that this man was clearly going to be difficult to work with. He was going to want to lead. She could tell that already. Even more than that, though, her resistance was because of her reaction the first moment she’d turned and seen David Hannon. There was something about that dark sweep of hair, those intense emerald eyes, that made a person feel as if he knew what sensual dreams flitted through her thoughts when she lay sleeping and open and vulnerable. He had a strong jaw and a mouth that was a slash of sinful temptation. He looked like a man who drank a lot of champagne out of a lot of women’s slippers—and liked it.
Her breath had caught in her throat in a completely unprofessional way. It wasn’t that she was unused to men giving her those speculative looks. She spent a lot of time with men. Most of her time, in fact, and she liked men. She liked dating, but she kept work and play very separate. She never got involved with other law enforcement officers. She never got involved with anyone too deeply and what’s more, she didn’t like feeling and doing things that just weren’t smart. Having a physical reaction to David Hannon was plain stupid and unacceptable. Especially if she was going to work with him in close quarters.
And she was, it seemed, because when she arrived at the station the next morning David was there before her. When she walked up to her desk and found him lounging in her chair, studying a file, his tall, dark good looks hit her like an express train at full throttle. The man was smooth, James Bond smooth, with that wicked half smile and those deep knowing eyes that had, no doubt, convinced a good number of women that virginity was a very bad thing to hang on to. She’d just bet he knew how to use that face, that body and that convincing, seductive way of talking to get whatever he wanted, just as he had yesterday. Good thing she was a pro, Gretchen thought. She’d gotten past the wallop her first glance of David Hannon had given her and now she was back in charge. Of herself and this case. And she would remain that way.
“Ready to take me on?” he asked sweetly.
She smiled back at him just as sweetly. “I’m always ready and able to handle anything.”
He raised one brow and grinned knowingly. Gretchen felt her heart trip over a speed bump too quickly, but she ignored the feeling.
“Let’s get started, Mr. Hannon.”
“David.”
“David,” she reluctantly agreed.
He waited, a patient smile on his lips.
“All right, okay, yes, I’m Gretchen,” she finally said, reaching for the folder. “Shall we go…David?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” He stood, looking down at her, and for one swift second she wished he were a little less tall, a little less broad-shouldered and polished. Maybe then she could think of him as just another cop of sorts. Must be the way he wore those sports jackets so elegantly or the fact that his white shirt looked good against his tanned skin.
“I’ll fill you in as we drive,” she managed to say, leading him out the door of the station to her plain white unmarked car. For one second, he headed for the driver’s side, then paused, a sheepish smile on his face as she stopped dead in her tracks. “Sorry, Gretchen.”
“You’re used to being in charge.” Her words were resigned.
He shrugged, an admission of the truth. “I’m sure I’ll get used to being second in command in time.”
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