The Hunk Next Door. Debra & Regan Webb & Black

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course,” he said with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. This might be the very call that signaled the beginning of his vengeance.

      He refilled his coffee and waited while she took the call in the foyer. He didn’t hear much beyond her greeting before his own phone rang. The timing couldn’t be worse, but he answered anyway. “Yes?”

      “This is a mistake,” the caller said with a quaking voice.

      “The only mistake is questioning me.”

      “I was told I had the authority—”

      “Enough.” Deke checked to be sure Chief Jensen remained distracted. “When you exhibit good judgment your authority will be restored. Are you reneging on our solution?”

      “N-n-no,” the voice on the other end of the line stuttered.

      “Good.” Deke ended the call and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

      “Deke?”

      “Yes, my dear,” he said, coming to his feet. “Don’t tell me duty calls.” She’d already taken her overcoat from the hall tree.

      “Something like that.” She hesitated, her bold, blue gaze roaming over his face. “Thank you for the coffee, Deke.”

      He stepped forward, taking her coat to help her into it. He let his hands brush the soft skin at her nape as he adjusted the collar, smiling to himself when she trembled.

      “Let’s not wait a week,” he said. “Come back for dinner tomorrow night.”

      She turned, and he took great pleasure watching her face as all of her responsibilities went to war against the desire he’d carefully stoked. “I would like that,” she replied.

      “But?”

      Her mouth tipped down, heavy with regret. “I have a security update tomorrow night.”

      “Stop by after. I’ll show you my latest seascape,” he said, hoping she’d laugh.

      She did. “I know you better than that.”

      “I would like you to,” he said, raising her hands to his lips.

      She took a small step back, her eyes wide.

      He cursed himself for pushing too hard, but he had a schedule to keep.

      “I’ll call you when my meeting is done tomorrow.” She paused at the door. “Then you can let me know if I should stop by or if it’s too late.”

      He knew she wasn’t referring to the time. Again, she impressed him by understanding the little nuances. If only more of the men he worked with were as astute.

      As he closed the door behind her he let himself enjoy another heady rush of anticipation. As angry as he was that she’d busted a drug shipment his clients relied on, she deserved respect. When she came by after her meeting everything would be different. She would be in pain over the blow he was about to inflict on her precious Belclare and he would be the only one able to soothe her. Tomorrow night, his plans would be in full swing and his reputation preserved.

      He watched from the sidelight window as she drove away. She made him angry, yes, but he liked her. He could send a message to others and still preserve the idealism that made her so unique. Silently he vowed that she wouldn’t live to know how badly she’d misjudged him.

      It was the only courtesy he could afford when it came to Chief Abby Jensen.

       Chapter Four

      Abby left Deke’s house, almost grateful to be called to a vandalism scene at the town limit. When he touched her, she couldn’t decide how to feel about it. Maybe because he didn’t touch her often enough? She was starting to wonder if anyone would ever touch her enough.

      She wasn’t sure about the answer, which only annoyed her. When they’d started these weekly coffee meetings it had been a way for her to keep tabs on the enigmatic and cloistered resident of Belclare. Now, though, the truth was far more embarrassing.

      For months, she’d been fighting her attraction to the man. He was in his mid-forties, but the gray at his temples and his artistic worldview only made him more distinguished in her eyes. The flawless manners, superb taste and maturity didn’t hurt, either.

      He treated her as if she was someone special and she liked the idea that at least one person saw beyond her badge and title to the woman underneath. She liked to think of herself as more than a uniform dedicated to maintaining law and order.

      “So you’ve been taking a weekly coffee break for the ego boost,” she muttered, drumming her fingertips on her steering wheel. Even in solitude that sounded pretty pathetic.

      Except it had felt anything but pathetic when he’d called her passionate. And that invite to dinner...was he heading where he seemed to be heading?

      “You’re flattered,” she said, coaching herself right out of the potential romance of it. She hadn’t had much of a social life since taking the top post in the Belclare police department, hesitant to set herself up for idle gossip. “Get over yourself. The positive attention is nice, but you can’t afford the distraction.”

      As if on cue, her cell phone launched into “I Fought the Law,” the ringtone she’d programmed for business calls. She toggled the button on her steering wheel to answer. “Chief Jensen.”

      “Hi, Chief. It’s Danny.”

      “I’m ten minutes away.”

      “Right. It’s just...”

      She waited. He cleared his throat as worst-case scenarios danced at the edge of her mind. She would not entertain those unless and until facts forced her to do so.

      Her personal life might be a haze of self-doubt and bad timing, but her career had been marked with success every step of the way. Her work ethic, common sense and focus had served her well and she wasn’t about to toss those strengths out the window.

      “Spit it out, Danny.”

      “The responding officers want you to know the media is already on-site.”

      Damn it. “Thanks for the heads-up.” She appreciated the warning. If the media was on-site, then Mayor Scott wouldn’t be far behind. Now she was doubly grateful for choosing the suit and heels today. In her opinion, her suits made her more relatable than the uniform, especially after her hard-nosed speech had become a viral internet sensation.

      As she approached the scene, she cringed at the growing crowd. Good grief. If she’d just heard, how had a news crew from Baltimore arrived so quickly? Her officers were pushing people back, but that only gave the media a better overall shot for tonight’s headlines.

      It looked worse in person than it had on her phone. The Welcome to Belclare display had been altered with spray paint. The phrases “Death to Chief Jensen” and “Open season on Belclare” were now blotting out points of town pride.

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