hair, too, the blond highlights looking like streaks of sunlight every time she moved her head.
And those legs. They seemed to go on forever beneath the skirt of her suit, another designer one, he bet.
And her breasts. He couldn’t ignore them. Never. Through the silk blouse, he was privy to just a hint of their upright fullness. She chose that moment to stretch, thrusting those breasts front and center, her nipples pushing against the silk. Brant’s breath caught in his throat.
Muttering an oath, he was about to jerk his eyes away when she caught them with her own. For a second it was as if he’d been shocked with a sudden jab of electricity.
Muttering another curse, he was the first to look away. Then he strode to the window and stared below at the beehive of activity. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper. What was he doing here? His worst nightmare. He fought to get control of his runaway emotions, which were telling him to bolt.
Why did she have to be such a looker? Why couldn’t she have been as homely as a mule eating briars through a picket fence? Luck of the draw. And the draw hadn’t been in his favor.
He hadn’t felt the need or the desire to get laid in a long time. He couldn’t allow himself to entertain that thought now. His son was the only thing he should be concerned with, certainly not his sexual needs.
And when and if he scratched that itch in his groin, it wouldn’t be with the likes of Jessica Kincaid, who lived in a different world from him, worlds that would never mesh in a million years. That aside, he simply wasn’t interested.
Marriage hadn’t agreed with him. Still, he wasn’t sorry he’d bitten that bullet. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have Elliot. Thinking about his son miraculously refocused him. He peered at his watch, thinking this might be a good time to try to reach Elliot. He had just flipped his cell phone open when she appeared in the door.
He swung around. She stood at a distance, a hint of a frown on her face.
“I’m about ready to call it a day.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m ready when you are.”
“I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“No problem. Your time is mine.”
She didn’t respond, though she hesitated for a minuscule second before walking back into her domain, her narrow derriere filling out her skirt to perfection.
Brant’s lips thinned into a pencil straight line.
“Does she always work this late?”
Wesley Stokes glared at his partner, Dick Wells, who occupied the seat beside him in his pickup, then curled his lips, showing off crooked, tobacco-stained teeth. “How the hell would I know?”
Wells shrugged narrow shoulders that matched his slight build and dark, clean-cut features. “Thought maybe you might have checked out her schedule.”
They had been sitting across the street from the city hall parking lot waiting for Jessica to leave. So far, she hadn’t made an appearance, and it was nearly six thirty.
Stokes’ glare harshened as he shifted his tall, beefy body in the seat so as to get a better look at his partner. “Hey, we’re in this together, right? Or have you conveniently forgotten that?”
“You know I haven’t,” Wells snapped.
“Then why didn’t you take care of it?”
“I’ve had other stuff on my mind,” Wells muttered.
“If you think you’re alone, think again.” Stokes’ tone was filled with contempt.
“Jan’s been raising old billy about me being on suspension,” Wells admitted almost reluctantly. “I’ve been spending most of my time trying to calm her down. She walks around wringing her hands, convinced we’re going to be living on the street in our car.”
Stokes snorted. “To hell with that nonsense. I told my old lady to keep her mouth shut or I’d shut it for her.”
“I can’t get by with that,” Wells said, down-in-the-mouth.
“Sure you could. You just don’t have the balls. If you’d backhand her a time or two, she’d straighten up. With a busted lip, she’d find it damn hard to nag.”
Wells cut him a look. “You’re a real bastard, Stokes. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
“Most likely, though I didn’t pay ’em no mind. I do what I have to to keep the peace in the family. When you got four kids making demands all the time, you run a tight ship.”
“I’ve got two kids myself, but I’d never hit my wife.”
“You might before we get out of this jam,” Stokes pointed out bluntly. “So don’t be taking that holier-than-thou attitude with me.”
Wells frowned. “Don’t you think the mayor will be forced to back down?”
Stokes snorted again, this time louder. “So far, Gaston Forrester hasn’t been able to budge her.”
Forrester was the interim chief, who had sworn he was on their side and who had promised to speak a good word on their behalf.
“That’s what worries me,” Wells said, following a deep sigh. “Absolutely nothing seems to be shaping up in our favor.”
“Which is why we have to take matters in our own hands and try and talk some sense into the hardheaded bitch.”
Wells shook his head, his frown darkening his features. “What if that tactic backfires?”
“Then we’ll move to plan B.”
“And what is plan B?”
Stokes grunted. “Dunno. At least not yet.”
Wells rolled his eyes. “Great.”
Stokes’ beefy hand tightened around the steering wheel. “You know, your attitude’s really pissing me off.”
“Sorry,” Wells retorted. “It’s just that I’m scared shitless that we may lose our jobs permanently.”
“Not if I have my way, we won’t,” Stokes declared. “Trust me, I’m not going to take her poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong. It’s high-time someone convinced her she doesn’t have balls and can’t hold her own with those of us who do.”
“I hope you’re right, because my family is running out of money fast.”
Stokes laughed bitterly. “Lucky you. We’ve been out. We were broke before I got suspended.”
“If only you hadn’t smacked the guy that one last time, we—”
“Cut
