thing he’d done all night. He’d whispered close to her ear so he could sneak a whiff of her lavender shampoo, and he’d made up so many excuses to accidentally brush her arm that it must have looked like an elbow fight. He probably would have copped a feel right over her oh-so-proper black turtleneck if he could have gotten away with it. He’d sure helped her out of that sweater with his eyes.
Suddenly thirsty, he threw on the faucet and poured himself a glass of water. With his eyes squeezed shut, he took several gulps. What had happened to him? He used to be a professional. He knew the rules, and until now, he’d followed them. So how had he gone from finding ways to bring one of the troopers more fully into the post team to wanting to frisk her in all the best ways right there on the table?
It didn’t make any sense. He’d passed by Delia Morgan every day for months, wearing the same uniform, finishing up reports at the same desktop computer, and he’d never once suffered from a case of dry mouth. Until today. He couldn’t recall a single case of sweaty palms over her nearness, either. Until... But that was the thing. Something had tripped a switch in him today, and no matter how hard he tried to click it off again, she kept showing up in his thoughts, accentuated by nothing less than ideal lighting.
He took another drink and then held the cool glass to his cheek. Unfortunately, his face wasn’t the only thing that felt too warm over just the thought of her and that sweater.
This situation had disaster written all over it. He couldn’t be attracted to a trooper, even if he wasn’t her direct supervisor. He didn’t do interoffice romances. He wished he could make the excuse that it had been too long since he’d dated, but that disastrous blind date from last weekend probably still counted. As for “afternoon delights” as Vinnie would have called them, though, it had been a long, dry year in the whole delights department, afternoon or otherwise.
“Get your head on straight, Peterson,” he grumbled.
Polaski definitely would tell him that if he saw him now and probably with more colorful vocabulary. Whether or not Ben had sought out attention when he’d entered the bank yesterday, he’d become an object of curiosity. A hero in some people’s minds, even if he would never see himself as one. Well, he’d better start behaving like one. A hero would always be his best, most professional self, not someone who only thought about his own needs as his father had. A hero wouldn’t allow himself to see a coworker as anything more than a brother or sister in blue. He would work solely for the good of the public and the post.
Yes, he still wanted to help Delia Morgan better assimilate into the post family. It was the right thing to do for the team, after all. But if he couldn’t put his plan into action without crossing that firm line, then he needed to back away for his own good...and hers.
* * *
THE EIGHT PCS positioned around the squad room were deserted, except for the one where Delia sat typing information into the blanks of an electronic arrest report form. She would have been just coming off patrol herself soon if not for a routine traffic stop earlier that ended in an arrest. That stop had changed when her Law Enforcement Information Network database search had shown an outstanding arrest warrant.
Sensing that she was no longer alone, she lifted her head and glanced over her shoulder. Not hoping it would be anyone in particular. Just curious. Sure enough, Lieutenant Peterson leaned casually against the door frame. His pose and the way he startled, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, had to be the reasons for the tickle that skittered up the back of her neck.
She cleared her throat. “May I help you?”
He smiled then, and Delia’s tummy did an unfortunate jig the way it had so many times around him lately. She tightened her jaw and crossed her arms over her stomach to still those dancing feet. Why couldn’t she just get past these inappropriate reactions to him?
Sure, Ben Peterson had never been invisible to her. Far from it, no matter how hard she’d tried not to see him. But everything was magnified since his shining moment last week.
Since she’d noticed him staring back.
She’d probably imagined that, too, so it was downright annoying that the sparks she felt around him continued to crackle and pop.
“I just wanted to get a good look at the trooper who arrested Mary Poppins in there.” Ben pointed with his thumb toward the door to the cinder-block holding cell where Delia’s suspect sat awaiting transfer to Livingston County Jail.
Frowning, she spun her office chair to fully face him. “I would expect that a lieutenant would take an arrest seriously. Any arrest.”
“Seriously? Even this one?”
As much as she wanted to hold on to her stern expression—this was their job after all—she didn’t stand a chance when facing off with Ben’s silly smirk. He had a point. It was pretty funny. “Why are you so interested in this arrest, anyway? Are you a closeted Poppins fan?”
“So what if I am?” He pursed his lips. “Er...was.”
She finally gave in and grinned over his joke about him giving away his secret. “‘Practically perfect’ and all of that?”
He grinned again. “You know it.”
It was amazing how easily she bantered with Ben now, but she shouldn’t have been surprised. As often as he’d struck up conversations with her during her shifts in the past week, how could she not have become more comfortable around him? She shouldn’t make too much out of it, though. Ben was friendly with everyone at the post, from the commander to the lady at the front desk. But he’d focused on Delia lately, seeming determined to roll past that awkwardness between them and to really become her friend.
Strange how she wanted to give in on both things. Having someone to talk to at work certainly hadn’t been all bad. She’d found herself looking forward to the moments he would stop by, curious what interesting thing he would say next. Even if he’d probably only made the effort to further his plan for making her team-worthy. Of course he had an agenda. Everyone did. People didn’t do things without a motivation of some sort. Even Ben. She should know better than to believe he was doing it just to be nice.
He stepped closer to her desk and glanced at the report over her shoulder. “This has to be a good story. Tell me how you broke this case.”
Immediately, she stiffened again, a reflex when anyone moved too close to her, but she forced a smile and continued typing. Maybe he hadn’t noticed.
“Okay, I’ll admit I didn’t expect to find anything on LEIN when I pulled over a white-haired lady for driving thirty-two in a seventy.”
Whether he shifted to the next PC to ensure that the machine was working or to signal that he’d noticed her discomfort, Delia couldn’t tell.
“Usually a good bet,” he said finally.
Delia swallowed, sliding a glance his way. Though he could have been answering either her comment about senior suspects or the thoughts she’d kept to herself, she chose the safety of the earlier topic. “But then doesn’t that make me guilty of profiling? Or un-profiling?”
“Probably just of being human. No one wants to think of anyone’s grandma as a suspect.”
“Don’t let me off the hook so easily.”
He pointed to the closed door. “Come on, Delia.
