Secret Desire. Gwynne Forster

this block close a couple of hours before you do. You’re vulnerable. What’s the matter? You don’t want it there?”

      What could she say? Of course she needed that, and any other protection that would prevent her from losing her store. “Please don’t think I’m not grateful. I am—”

      He frowned and barely narrowed his left eye. “But what, Kate? Tell me you’re going to do this all on your own, that you don’t need anybody’s help. Fine. Give me a screwdriver, and I’ll remove the buzzer.”

      Now she’d done it. What was it about men that made them see things in black-and-white? “I appreciate your kindness, but in ten years of marriage, I wasn’t allowed to make a single meaningful decision. I was spoon-fed, managed and manipulated. You’ll forgive me, I hope, if I’m supersensitive about my independence.”

      He stepped closer and burned her with his all-knowing gaze. “If your marriage wasn’t a happy one, why did you stay?”

      “I have a son, and I took a vow.”

      She’d said more than she wanted him to know. But then, she’d already accepted that she wasn’t normal around him.

      Something akin to recognition—or could it be approval?—gleamed in his intense gaze. “You’re an admirable woman. I just dropped by to make certain everything’s all right. Did Cowan introduce himself to you this morning?”

      She nodded, perplexed. The man whose company she’d enjoyed the previous evening had been swallowed by that captain’s uniform. She didn’t know what to think. “Officer Cowan said he’d be checking on me. Luke, do you think it’s necessary to go to so much trouble?”

      His gaze didn’t waver. “For a simple robbery, I wouldn’t take such steps, but you’ve implied that you’re in jeopardy, and until that robbery case is solved, it’s my job to protect you—whether you like that or not. What time will Randy be here this afternoon?”

      She tried to imagine what was behind the question. “Three-thirty. Why? What did you have in mind?”

      “I’d like him to come over to PAL.” He gave her the address. “You can’t begin too early. He has the profile of a kid who needs help, and you have to straighten him out now.”

      She knew he didn’t exaggerate. “All right. I’ll…I’ll send him.”

      Her nerves shimmered when his hand covered hers in a gentle gesture of comfort. “One of the counsellors or officers will pick him up at three-thirty and bring him back before you close. Relax, now. He couldn’t be in better hands.”

      She let herself luxuriate in the warmth that leaped out from him. She knew she should move her hand, but why couldn’t she enjoy his caring gesture for just a minute? He looked at her the way he had when they sat in that booth without speaking after their dinner—not searching or examining, just communicating in a most primal way. She wanted to ask him if he was telling her he liked her, but she didn’t.

      She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Be my friend, Luke, but please don’t spoil me. I’ve had too much of that. Do you understand?”

      He clasped her hand more tightly, but he didn’t smile, and she wondered what had happened to the grin with which he’d mesmerized her Sunday evening.

      “I understand,” he told her, “but you can’t assume that I’d treat you as your husband did. I believe in giving a person breathing space, and I like women who’re capable of standing on their own two feet.” He touched the brim of his cap. “I’ll drop by again to see how you’re getting on.”

      He moved his hand, leaving her with a sense of loss. “Thanks, Luke, for…for everything.”

      As he turned to go she amazed herself by saying, “I make great gingerbread. Randy’s crazy about it.”

      His stare made her want to disappear, for he had to know that her remark had been an attempt to detain him. Then a grin began around his mouth and quickly covered his face in a smile that lit up everything around them. “You may never get rid of me. If you don’t make some soon, I’ll put in a request. Bet on that. Just thinking about gingerbread gives me a high.”

      She joined in his merriment, more comfortable with him in the lightened mood. “Ever the officer. Imagine getting high on gingerbread. Well, if that’s what revs your engine.”

      He grinned again and his left eye flicked in a deliberate wink. “That, and one or two other things. See you later.”

      He strode toward the door with a seductive swing, as though his rhythmic gait had been choreographed by a master choreographer. My Lord, she thought, walking toward me or striding off, the man oozes sex appeal. She’d have her hands full trying not to become attached to him. He was used to giving orders, to controlling people, and she’d had enough of that. Her one priority was to establish her store in order to take care of Randy and herself. Falling for a man, even a handsome catch like Luke Hickson, didn’t fit into her plans. But oh, how tempting he was!

      Chapter 2

      No sooner had Luke gotten back to the precinct and settled down to work than Axel Strange strolled into his office without knocking and took a seat. Ten years on the force, nine of them at that precinct, and he still couldn’t warm up to the man.

      “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

      Axel leaned back in the chair and crossed his right leg over his left knee, as comfortable as if he were in his own office. “I’m told you know where the cutter is.”

      Luke lay his pen beside his writing pad and prepared for some of Axel’s sleuthing. Something about Axel Strange reminded him of grease, always had. He never meant precisely what he said, leaving himself an out. His words had to be decoded. And just when you had to depend on him, he wasn’t there. The man never talked about himself, but he always had the goods on his fellow officers and didn’t mind talking about them. He didn’t exactly dislike Axel, but he was more comfortable when the man wasn’t around.

      Luke let his gaze roam over Axel, cataloging the things that irked him. “Unless someone used that cutter after I did, it’s in its place. Why are you asking me, anyway? Speak to the sergeant in charge of storage.”

      Axel shifted his demeanor from amiable to harsh, checked himself and produced another smile. “I just thought you’d know. By the way, who was the woman? I tell you, I couldn’t believe you spent most of your day off looking after some dame. Must be some dish, huh?”

      Luke stiffened. A little of Axel could last him a long time. “Read the log, man. I’m sure it contains everything you need to know. Cowan’s on that beat, and he can handle anything that comes up. I’d better get busy.”

      It surprised him that Axel didn’t move, and he wondered if he’d finally have to pull rank on the man.

      “Rick—you know, the waiter at River Café—said you had a sharp-looking gal there with you last night that he didn’t recognize. Couldn’t have been the same woman, could it?”

      Luke strummed his fingers on his desk, his patience waning. “I’m surprised you consider that your business. It isn’t.”

      Axel’s smile was about what he expected, given that the man could back away from a position with the swiftness of an Indianapolis 500 racer. “Everybody’s curious about you, man. We’re all waiting for the boss to be had.”

      Luke picked up his pen, signaling the conversation’s end. “Fortunately, I am not gullible enough to believe the men in this precinct have nothing better to think about than my private business. Since we’ve both got work to do, I suggest we get to it.”

      The ugliness that glazed Axel Strange’s face so quickly that it was hardly discernible sent a shot of adrenaline streaking through Luke—pure animosity, and he knew he hadn’t imagined it. He’d never regarded the man as an enemy, and maybe he wasn’t, but he’d bear watching.

      Luke