Protecting Her Son. Joan Kilby

on the corner yet?”

      “Not yet.” Ice cream. Cold, sweet, tempting. The man doing the offering was sexy, smart and strong.

      Wouldn’t it be nice to do something simple like go for ice cream with a man she was not only attracted to but beginning to like and respect? But her life wasn’t simple. And Riley had never given the slightest indication he’d like to hang with her after work. He had to have an agenda. And she suspected she knew what it was.

      “I have to pick up Jamie.” She made a show of checking her watch.

      “Fifteen minutes.” He gave her a disarming smile. “My treat.”

      Might as well get this over with. She put in a quick call to Sally to let her know she’d be there by six at the latest. No problem according to Sally. Jamie was happily playing with another little boy in her care.

      Outside the station Riley turned into the arcade that led through to the main street. In the narrow shadowed lane she was more aware than usual of his sheer physicality. His height and the breadth of his shoulders were accentuated. His stride seemed longer, his demeanor relaxed but alert.

      “What’s your favorite flavor?” Riley asked. “Chocolate, vanilla, rocky road…?”

      “Pistachio.”

      “You can tell a lot about a person by the ice cream they choose,” he confided, his head tilted toward her.

      “Bull.” He was softening her up. Even knowing that, she grinned, fascinated.

      “You have a taste for the exotic. You’re not afraid to be different. You don’t care what people think of you as long as you do what you believe is right.”

      “You’re making this up.”

      His dark eyes danced. “Am I wrong?”

      Not entirely, but she wasn’t going to give him that. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

      “I have no favorite. I love them all.”

      “Ah, you’re a commitment-phobe. You flit from ice cream to ice cream.”

      “No, I’m a man who keeps his options open.”

      “Same thing.” She gave him a nudge, her bare elbow making contact with the damp cotton of his shirt, and below the cloth, his rib cage.

      Teasing felt surprisingly good. The moment would be fleeting so she allowed herself to relax and enjoy for a change. The scorching heat of the day had died, leaving the air pleasantly warm as the shadows lengthened. They strolled down the sidewalk, Riley nodding and greeting people as they passed.

      A bell over the door tinkled as they entered the air-conditioned ice-cream parlor.

      A blonde fiftysomething woman behind the counter had a ready smile for Riley. “How did you enjoy the casserole?”

      “Um, yeah, it was great,” Riley said, scratching the back of his neck. “Paula, this is Sandra, my stepmother. Paula’s my partner,” he said to Sandra. “She has a craving for pistachio.”

      “I don’t—” Paula started to protest then got distracted by the twinkle in his eye. Hmm, maybe she did have a craving. But she would have to be satisfied with a frozen treat. Her awareness of him was growing, no doubt due to spending hours sitting in the squad car together. She would have to be careful not to encourage him.

      Sandra handed Paula a waffle cone piled with three fat scoops of pistachio ice cream. “Complimentary to Summerside police officers.”

      “Thank you.” Paula took a lick and her eyes closed briefly. “Heavenly.”

      Sandra began to construct a second cone for Riley at his instruction—raspberry, butterscotch and licorice. “Are you all settled in at the house?”

      “That’s a way off. Tonight I’m going to start tearing apart the kitchen.” He was nodding at the display of fresh cakes and pastries under glass covers on the counter. “You’re selling desserts now.”

      “The new owner wants to expand the fresh-food line,” Sandra said.

      “New owner?” Riley’s eyebrows rose. “Shane Kennedy has owned this place since I was in high school. Never thought he would give up such a prime location.”

      “Apparently he was offered a price he couldn’t refuse,” Sandra said. “It was all very sudden. I didn’t even know the shop was up for sale.”

      The bell above the shop tinkled. A teenage boy with blond curly hair and a pretty dark-haired girl in school uniform entered holding hands.

      “I’ll let you go,” Riley said to his stepmother. “Catch you later.”

      “Thanks again for the cone,” Paula called.

      Outside Paula lapped at the cone to stop the rapidly melting ice cream from dripping onto her hands. “It’s a bit undignified, don’t you think, for cops to be eating ice cream on the street corner?” She couldn’t conceive of doing this in her city precinct.

      “The locals are used to it. But let’s go sit.” He started walking toward the grassy square and a wrought-iron bench beneath a shady gum tree.

      Paula sank onto the slatted seat. For a few minutes she concentrated on her cone, enjoying the cool sweetness of the pistachio confection.

      “You have a bit of ice cream…” Riley touched her nose.

      She batted his hand away and fished in her pocket for a tissue. “Have I got it all?”

      He pretended to scrutinize her, his eyes amused.

      “Never mind.” She threw the remains of her cone in a nearby bin and wiped her fingers.

      “Feeling better?” Riley was sober now.

      “Yes,” she said warily.

      “Good.” He looked away, at the row of shops and cafés, post office and supermarket, then at her. “Suppose you tell me what you meant by déjà vu.”

      Paula stilled. Pedestrians walked through the little park but she couldn’t have said whether they were male or female, young or old. She knew Riley had picked up on her muttered comment. He came across as laid-back but he was always on alert.

      “I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure…”

      “Maybe I can help.”

      She studied his intelligent eyes, his determined jaw, his sensitive mouth. “Maybe you can. I think I know who’s behind the crystal meth we found in the Holden.”

      “Who?” Riley prompted.

      “Nick Moresco, the drug lord I put in jail seven years ago.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      RILEY KNEW IT, knew she’d been hiding something earlier. Her doubling over hadn’t been due to the heat but to the drug cache itself. And maybe to its discovery in Summerside. She’d gone quiet while they’d documented the haul, her mouth pulled down in a grim expression. Did she still have connections to Moresco? Was this why John was worried about her?

      She was innocent until proven guilty, Riley reminded himself. “What makes you think Moresco is involved?”

      Paula gripped the iron slats on either side of her knees. “He got out of prison last month.”

      Riley thought about that. “Didn’t he operate out of the inner city? Why would he come all the way to the peninsula to set up shop?”

      She shrugged, eyes down. “I don’t know.”

      Riley was no detective but he’d been trained in interrogation techniques. He could tell when someone was lying. The rumors about Paula came to mind. She’d done something so bad that it couldn’t be talked about.

      “A