shoulders. “Nothing. I gave her a ticket for speeding. She tried to fight it in traffic court.”
“And lost?”
“She would have lost her license…” And she probably should have. Before giving her the ticket, he’d run her record and had seen all her speeding warnings and citations—one for going too fast for conditions that had resulted in a minor property damage accident.
“So you talked the judge into enrolling her in the class instead of giving her a ticket?” Paddy whistled with surprise. “I’ve never known you to let anyone off a ticket.”
Chad mentally kicked himself for stepping in with his brilliant suggestion. Now if anything happened to Ms. Howard, it was his fault. His idea made her his responsibility now. He straightened. “I just thought she’d learn a lot from the class and that she might come to understand how reckless speeding is.” He was actually counting on it.
“If you teach the traffic/defensive driving session of the class, she will,” Paddy said. “You can personally explain to her the consequences of speeding.”
Because he’d lived with—or actually without—the consequences? Chad shook his head. “No. I would never get personal with Tessa Howard.”
“Junior—” Chad wasn’t actually a junior, but because of his reputation as an expert driver, he’d been nicknamed Dale Earnhardt, Jr. “The problem is that you don’t get personal with anyone,” the commander continued, “not since your wife died.”
Chad sucked in a breath. Although it had been four years since Luanne’s death, those last three words struck him like a battering ram in the gut. He still missed her—what they’d had and what they could have had—what they should have had.
“It’s been a long time, Chad,” Paddy said, his deep voice soft with sympathy and understanding.
Chad nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes too long. Sometimes not long enough…” For the loss to stop hurting.
Paddy’s eyes locked on Chad’s. “It’s been long enough. Luanne would have wanted you to move on.”
She probably would have, but Chad wasn’t ready. He doubted he’d ever be ready.
“How long you been divorced, Paddy?” he asked his friend.
The watch commander dropped his gaze to his desk as he shuffled some files. “That’s different.”
“Yeah.” Paddy could see his ex again whereas Luanne was gone forever. If only she hadn’t been speeding that day…He’d warned her so many times to slow down.
He was kidding himself to think Tessa Howard would learn anything in the academy. If he hadn’t been able to get through to his own wife, how would he get through to her? “This was a bad idea.”
“What was?” Paddy asked distractedly as he shoveled through the files on his desk. The radio next to a flat-screen monitor crackled with the dispatcher’s voice sending out units on the latest 911 calls. Messages also flashed across the screen. The watch commander divided his attention between the calls and the files. But from the half-empty coffee mugs on his desk and atop the file cabinets, he was used to people dropping by his office to talk, too.
So Chad didn’t feel too badly for taking up his time. “I should have kept my mouth shut in court.” He sighed. “Hell, I probably shouldn’t have shown up at all.”
“The judge would have thrown out the ticket then.”
“He threw it out anyway.” Because of Chad’s interference. He pushed a hand through his hair. “Do you really need my help with the academy?”
Paddy looked up from his paperwork, his eyes narrowed. Then he nodded. “I can’t wait to meet Ms. Howard.”
“It’s not like that…”
“Like what?” Paddy asked. “She isn’t young and pretty?”
“She’s twenty-seven,” he recalled from her license, which had actually had a good picture—although he couldn’t imagine her taking a bad one. “So yeah, she’s young.” He glanced at his watch, but he didn’t have anyplace to go. His shift had ended.
“And pretty?”
She wasn’t just pretty. With her spunk and sass, she was so much more. Thinking of her bright blue eyes and golden blond hair, gorgeous was the word that most readily sprang to his mind. Since the day he had pulled her over, he had thought about her—too much. The way she had batted her thick black lashes and had spoken in a breathy voice, trying to flirt her way out of the ticket. Then in court, the way she’d gnawed her bottom lip…
He suppressed a groan and lied to the watch commander, “I hadn’t noticed.”
Paddy laughed, knowing him so well that he had to realize Chad lied. “Well, helping me out as one of the class instructors will give you time to notice.”
“She probably won’t even show up.” He hoped.
HIS STOMACH FLIPPED as Tessa Howard, blond hair swinging around her shoulders, settled onto a chair at the table in the front row—just feet away from where Chad Michalski sat with the other instructors. While most of the rest of the class had dressed casually in either jeans or khakis and sweaters or sweatshirts, Tessa wore a suit similar to the one she’d worn in court. A tailored, pinstriped navy blue jacket cinched her slim waist while a slim pencil skirt ended above her knees but inched farther up her thighs as she crossed her legs.
Chad swallowed hard and shifted on his chair. If only he’d kept quiet in court…
The watch commander nudged his shoulder. “Tessa Howard?”
He nodded.
“Now I understand why—”
Chad nudged him back. “Don’t you have a class to teach?”
Paddy grinned, but stood up and addressed the group of citizens and instructors gathered in the third-floor meeting room. “Welcome to the Lakewood Police Department’s Citizens’ Police Academy.”
Welcome? Tessa bit her bottom lip to hold in a chuckle. Welcome implied she attended the class of her own free will. Her attention shifted from the man standing before the table at the front of the spacious, white-walled, low-ceilinged room to one of the men sitting behind the table. Her gaze locked with Lieutenant Chad Michalski’s.
“Oh, good choice,” murmured the girl beside Tessa. She leaned closer as if they were passing notes in class. “He’s single, too. I already checked. He’s a little old for me, though, but he sure is yummy.”
Tessa snorted although she wasn’t certain to what she’d taken exception—the lieutenant being called yummy or old. He definitely wasn’t old; she estimated early thirties, at the most. He continued to stare at her, his jaw taut probably with disapproval, as if she were the one talking during class. Because she’d been late, she’d had no choice of where to sit—the chair next to the young girl at the first table had been the only one still vacant.
“We’re going to go around the room and have everyone introduce themselves,” the officer
