Reaching the driver’s side, she searched for her keys. She remembered she’d dropped them into her laptop bag instead of her purse this morning, and flipped it open. As she dug around in the side pocket, she realized someone was calling her name.
“Lindsey, wait up!”
She glanced over the hood of her car, seeing Mike walking toward her across the parking lot. Damn. So much for a clean getaway. What was he thinking, following her like this? He had to have noticed how much attention they’d been drawing inside.
“What can I do for you, Chief?”
“We didn’t finish our conversation.”
“Yes, we did.”
“I was about to offer you a home-cooked meal.”
“And I was about to decline,” she insisted, still digging for the elusive keys. In fact, she dug so forcefully, the shoulder strap of her laptop case slipped, and she dropped the whole thing onto the ground.
“Damn it,” she said, nervous and irritated, wondering why the man flustered her so. She just prayed the bag’s padding had prevented any damage to the equipment inside.
“Calm down,” he ordered, reaching her car as she bent to grab her bag. “We’re not being watched by the secret police.”
She scanned the area, frowning. “We are, however, being watched by the kids over there on the basketball court, the old man walking his dog across the street and the woman pushing the baby stroller at the intersection.”
He turned his head to look, obviously realizing she was not exaggerating. Even from several feet away, she noted that his jaw flexed as he clenched it. His broad shoulders also stiffened, his body radiating frustration.
“We’ve both already realized that if we talk to each other we’re going to draw attention, and neither of us wants that,” she said. “So I should just get out of here.”
“Christ,” he muttered. “Why can’t people mind their own business? This is worse than my family.”
“We’re both newcomers, and we’re both in positions that the public feels they have a right to comment on,” she said, blowing out her own frustrated breath. “You don’t want them to say that their new chief is distracted by a pretty face.”
That had come out wrong, made her sound cocky, and she hadn’t intentionally been trying to pay herself a compliment. But he was smart enough to figure out what she’d been trying to say. “I also don’t want them to believe their kids’ new teacher is a... What did you call me? A sex addict?”
He winced. “I apologized for that, didn’t I?”
“Yes. At any rate, I need to go home, and you need to stay here. Plus, we both agreed we weren’t looking for any romantic entanglements.”
“I’m not talking about tangling you.”
A twinkle in his eye said he’d considered saying something else. Maybe something about doing more than tangling, like, say, tying. Or handcuffing.
Good lord, she’d never in a million years thought that fantasy would appeal to her. Something about Mike, though, knowing how strong yet protective he was, how decent, made her wonder about it. Made her, in fact, a little melty-limbed.
She stiffened those limbs, and her resolve. “We both said...”
“I remember what I said. But maybe I’m getting a little tired of worrying about what other people will think. I shouldn’t have to check over my shoulder every time I have a conversation.”
“I can certainly understand that,” she said. She’d only been here a week and she already felt stifled. She couldn’t imagine how bad it was for him.
“If I’m going to make a life here, I need to start living it on my terms.”
A life here. He’d seemed to be on the fence before, but now he sounded like he really intended to stay on Wild Boar. For someone like Mike—with a huge family, born and bred in Chicago—it was a pretty dramatic decision. His old job must have really been dangerous for this to be the future he chose.
“So what do you say?”
“What changed from last week when you weren’t interested?”
“Oh, honey, I was interested the moment I set eyes on you on that ferry,” he assured her, the warmth in his voice matching the warmth in his eyes.
She crossed her arms and hugged herself, determined not to let that admission lower her guard.
“The truth is, I’ve been thinking about the kind of woman I might be looking for. Not just for sex, but for more than that, and every minute I’ve spent with you has made me want you that much more.”
He wasn’t just talking about a fling? He wanted to pursue something more serious with her? The realization left her reeling.
“I always seemed to end up with the wrong type in Chicago, but maybe the right type might be right in front of my face.”
“What type might that be?” she asked, interested despite herself. What was Mike really looking for?
“Somebody trustworthy.”
Check.
“Somebody smart, adventurous. Nice.”
Yep. Yep. Sometimes.
So far, so good.
“Somebody who wants the simple things and isn’t so busy climbing a corporate ladder she can’t spare a minute of compassion for anybody else.”
That sounded like a story. Before she could ask him about it, though, he continued.
“A small-town teacher who’s gorgeous and funny as hell seems to fit the bill.”
Small-town teacher? Simple? Not a ladder-climber?
Oy. Those definitely didn’t describe her. It might sound like the Lindsey he was getting to know, but he didn’t know the real woman.
Sadness stabbed her, because, the truth was, if he did meet the real her, he probably wouldn’t be interested anymore.
“So?” He stepped closer. “Give me a chance. Give us a chance.”
She let out a heavy sigh.
She wasn’t the kind of woman he wanted. She was too susceptible to his charm, already too eager to spend time with him. But if he asked her to come over so he could cook her dinner, she’d probably stay through breakfast, and they both knew it.
She did not want to be the kindergarten teacher who did the walk of shame a week after her arrival in the nicest town on earth. Especially because, after the sex, she greatly feared she’d still be left with the liking, the admiration, all the damned emotions she didn’t want to have about any man she slept with.
And when he found out who she really was, what she really did and why she was here, he probably wouldn’t have any feelings toward her at all. Other than resentment or anger if she ended up costing him a job he needed and wanted.
No. It couldn’t happen. They couldn’t work.
“I’m sorry, Mike,” she said, pleading with her eyes for him not to press her. “I just can’t.”
He stared at her in silence, watching her face, as if to gauge her determination. She sensed he was disappointed in her, even though she’d been honest from the beginning about what she was here for...and what she was not here for. He might have had the kind of week that made him change his mind. She hadn’t.
“All right,” he said with a resigned shrug. “You win.”
No,