The Police Chief's Lady. Jacqueline Diamond

door, noticing a light citrus scent as she breezed by. The desk officer gave her a big smile. When Jenni returned it, the fellow brightened as if she’d just made his day. Ethan suspected she had that effect on a lot of men.

      For some reason, he remembered the night more than ten years ago in a Nashville country music bar when he’d first seen Martha perform. With her long chestnut hair, vivid face and soulful voice, she’d seemed utterly enchanting and unattainable. He would never have believed she could become his wife. Or that once he had her, he could lose her to cancer.

      He shook his head, annoyed at the memory for intruding at this inappropriate moment. “My office is around to the left.” He wasn’t sure what made him add, “Ever been in a police station before?”

      “I try to avoid them,” the doctor replied.

      Her flame-colored suit smoldered against the subdued hues of his office. Instead of sitting, Jenni walked to the window and surveyed the downtown. “Great view.”

      “I like it.” He remained standing. This was not, Ethan gathered, a social visit.

      She turned. “I prefer to get things out in the open. I can’t stand when people talk behind my back, and I’m sure you would feel the same way.”

      “If something’s bugging you, shoot.” He had a suspicion this outburst stemmed from the insulting remark Karen had overheard. Although he was willing to apologize, Ethan decided to let Jenni make the first move.

      “First of all, I perfectly understand why you might prefer the other candidate. In your position, I’d probably have supported him myself,” she said.

      Ethan kept silent.

      “As for the slander that was spread about me in L.A., you should have asked for my side of the story.”

      “The medical director told me you’d denied it and that the board took no action against you. I conveyed that information to the council,” Ethan explained.

      She released a sharp breath. “But first you repeated that whole ugly business. Why?”

      “It was my job. If I mishandled the situation, I apologize.”

      “You don’t approve of me, do you?” she said coolly.

      Ethan was caught off guard, perhaps because she’d hit on the truth. “I don’t know you.”

      “You’re being evasive.” A death grip on her purse strap revealed her tension.

      “You didn’t make a very favorable impression last month,” he conceded. “Perhaps I judged too quickly.”

      “You don’t have to like me.” Jenni faced him squarely. “But you’re part of the establishment in Downhome and I don’t want to feel as if I have to watch my back whenever you’re around. I especially don’t want to have to watch it when you’re not around.”

      Ethan found the implication insulting. “If you’re paranoid about authority figures, don’t take that out on me.”

      “When someone objects to your high-handed behavior, do you always dismiss it as paranoia?” she returned.

      They glared at each other across the office. Unwillingly, Ethan found himself admiring the woman’s gumption.

      She’d originally struck him as a fluffy California blonde. Now he’d have to describe her as a fierce, fluffy California blonde, if such a creature existed.

      Ethan wondered what it took to warm up those blue-gray eyes and why none of the millions of men in L.A. had given her a reason to stay. Suddenly, Downhome had become a more interesting place to live. But not necessarily a more comfortable one.

      He needed to defuse the situation. Mildly, he said, “I should know better than to argue with a doctor. Particularly using a medical term like paranoia. I take that back,”

      “Do you ever smile?” Jenni asked. “I mean really smile, not just twitch the corners of your mouth?”

      He blinked in surprise. “All the time. At home, anyway.”

      “I admire your wife if she has that effect on you.”

      Ethan didn’t care to discuss Martha with Jenni. “I have a five-year-old son,” he said. “Naturally, he’s a brilliant wit.” Simply mentioning Nick lightened his mood. “He has a gift for making me laugh.”

      “That’s better.” She relaxed her grip on her purse strap.

      “What is?”

      “When you mentioned your little boy, you gave evidence of containing actual human DNA.” she quipped.

      A strange thing happened to Ethan then. He chuckled. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how rarely he did that around anyone aside from Nick. “I’ll have to be careful around you.”

      “Why?” Jenni asked.

      “You’re smarter than you—” He stopped.

      “Smarter than I look?” Her voice held a challenge. “Believe me, I’ve heard that before.” She seemed rueful rather than angry. “It’s amazing the way some students assume a medical school must have accepted a blonde based on her sex appeal.”

      “What did you do about it?”

      “I kicked their gluteus maximus on exams,” Jenni returned. “It wasn’t easy, since I’m no genius. You can accomplish miracles if you study like a maniac and forgo a social life.”

      She hadn’t mentioned needing to work. Perhaps her parents had paid the bills, but Ethan could hardly hold that against her. “I’d say you just kicked my gluteus maximus, figuratively speaking,” he said. “Coming here took guts.”

      It was her turn to smile. “You’re a good sport.”

      “How about a truce?”

      Jenni released a long breath. Apparently, she’d been prepared for a rougher reception. “Fine. Live and let live.”

      Ethan became aware that he’d instinctively shifted toward her. If he wasn’t careful, he might start flirting, he realized with a jolt.

      He eased back, trying not to be obvious. Although he didn’t completely dismiss the possibility that Jenni had had an affair with her patient’s husband, he could see why Karen and Olivia believed her.

      “There is one matter I wanted to mention,” he said.

      “Oh?” She withdrew into caution again.

      Being rich and gorgeous must be tougher than he’d thought if it produced such a strong defensive mechanism.

      “Have a seat.” Ethan wanted to put their meeting on a more neighborly basis. “Coffee?”

      “No, thanks.” She perched on the edge of a chair.

      He helped himself to a mugful from the pot atop a low file cabinet. “When did you get into town?”

      “This morning.”

      “You came to my office first thing? You must really have been steamed.”

      Her cheeks flushed. “I’m not sure my wheels touched the ground on the way from Nashville. I don’t like the idea of being put under a microscope.”

      “Fair enough. In fact, from now on, you have leave to put me under a microscope. Turnabout’s fair play, right?”

      Her expression turned to one of mingled amusement and embarrassment.

      “What did I say?” he inquired. “You have the funniest look on your face.”

      This time she blushed deep red. “I was wondering who you use as your personal physician.”

      Now he understood. If he became one of her patients, that would mean getting examined in a very intimate manner.

      Ethan