The dog plopped down right in the middle of the doorway, raised his snout and let out a woo-hoo sound.
He didn’t look menacing. Rick held out a hand for the dog to sniff. When that went well, he crouched down and scratched him behind the ears, all the while wondering what was taking Madison so long to find her keys. He might not have known her well, but one thing he’d gathered from her office and her house—she was organized and neat, meticulously so. He would’ve thought she’d know exactly where her keys were. She should have been back already.
To pass the time, Rick ran a hand along the dog’s silky coat.
He caught a whiff of that alluring musky scent of Madison’s before he saw her enter the vestibule from a hallway to the left.
“Oh, I’m glad you met Owen. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
Seeing her, he nearly toppled over. He steadied himself with a hand on the railing.
He’d been disappointed that she was averse to riding a motorcycle, something he had a zeal for. He’d also been a bit baffled by her apparent lack of spontaneity. But now, seeing her... Wow!
She didn’t seem to be holding keys. Instead, she’d reappeared wearing dark skinny jeans, a snug long-sleeved T-shirt and—biggest surprise of all—low-heeled biker boots. She’d undone the arrangement of her hair, and all that springy red now rioted around her face and shoulders, nearly down to her waist.
“You changed?” Rick immediately felt ridiculous about stating the obvious, but his brain cells must have gone into a coma. He couldn’t think straight, staring at her looking so undeniably hot.
He rose, and she gave him a flirty smile. If she’d appealed to him before, what he saw now could drive him crazy. It wasn’t about the clothes or how sexy she looked. Okay, that didn’t hurt, he corrected himself. But it was about her spontaneity and her willingness to change her plans—and her clothes. This woman was someone he could really fall for.
“Yes,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “You’d made your point.”
“Sorry? What?” He’d been so distracted again he’d lost the train of their conversation.
She smiled, showing even, white teeth between sexy, full lips. “I had to change to be able to ride on your motorcycle.” She slid an elastic off her wrist and reached up to tie her hair in a ponytail. “I’m glad Owen kept you company while I was gone,” she said, and gave the dog an affectionate hug before sending him out into the yard.
“Great dog. Big dog!” Rick said as they watched him find the perfect spot on the grass. When Owen sauntered back, Madison placed a kiss on his snout, signaled him to go inside and closed the door behind her.
“Ready?” he asked, holding out the helmet he brought for her.
“Ready,” she said, accepting the helmet and putting it on as she preceded him down the steps.
Rick theatrically patted a hand over his heart.
* * *
SINCE IT WAS SUNDAY, they made good time to the captain’s house in Poway just off I-15, where the barbecue was being held. Logan O’Connor’s place was a sprawling bungalow with an ample backyard. That was handy, since there were a lot of people there.
Taking in the throng, Madison was glad she’d changed. As Rick had predicted, all the men wore jeans or shorts, and there wasn’t a single woman wearing a dress.
Shortly after their arrival, Logan asked for everyone’s attention and made a toast to Jeff Bradford, their fallen colleague. Logan said that Jeff’s widow had declined to attend; her loss was too recent, her pain too raw. One by one, all the cops present shared their most memorable story about Jeff. Then they all agreed to put aside the sadness and use the occasion to celebrate Jeff’s life.
Rick introduced Madison to everyone she didn’t know. It was nice to see the cops she’d already met through work outside the clinic environment. See them relaxed. Having fun. They were welcoming and friendly, even if a few reacted with raised eyebrows or meaningful looks cast toward Rick. A couple of the single cops—the ones who’d flirted with her the most outrageously at the clinic—jokingly pretended to be heartbroken that she’d chosen Rick over them. Mostly they did it out of earshot of their dates, but the few women who heard didn’t seem to take offense.
It felt like a big, boisterous extended family, and everyone appeared to get along. Madison noticed only one person who appeared not to fit in. He sat by himself in a corner of the yard, a bottle of beer clasped in his hand. At first, she didn’t think he was a cop. He didn’t look like one. He was heavy and out of shape. She hid her surprise when Rick introduced him as Tom Brody, a K-9 Unit officer. She hadn’t met him at the clinic yet, which was fine with her. There was something about him that made her uncomfortable. In a group where everyone was having a great time, he seemed sullen.
Madison was glad when Rick moved her along toward the two police dogs that were present. He introduced her to Boomer, Logan’s explosives-detection dog. The other dog, Sawyer, was one of the newest dogs in the unit. He was still in training to be a cadaver dog.
Once she’d met everyone, they circled back to join Logan, who was standing by his barbecue.
“Can I get you a drink?” Rick asked her.
“That would be nice.”
He excused himself to move to where the coolers were, returning a short while later. He held a well-chilled bottle of beer and a can of Coke. He offered her the beer.
Madison wasn’t a big fan of beer. In fact, she’d never had a full bottle in her life. She didn’t want to be rude to their host or offend Rick, but she couldn’t stomach the stuff. “Why don’t you have the beer, and I’ll take the Coke?” she suggested, reaching for the soda instead.
“Sorry, but that’s mine. When I ride the bike, I don’t drink.”
Logan snatched the opened beer bottle from Rick. “Thanks,” he said to Rick, and tapped the bottle against the can of Coke Rick held in his hand. “Since this is my place, I’m not driving anywhere. How’d you know I wanted a cold one?” Before Rick could reply, Logan turned to Madison. “Presumptuous of him. Thinking you’d want a beer without asking you. And not even bringing you a glass!” He made a tsking sound. “Personally, I picture you more of a wine drinker.” He took a sip of the beer. “I’m thinking white wine. A well-oaked chardonnay?”
She laughed and he smiled in return. “I take it that means I’m correct?”
“It sure does. And I’d love a glass of chardonnay.”
Logan grinned at Rick, handed him his bottle and smacked him on the back. “Hold this for me, will you, while I get Madison a drink?”
Madison watched Rick for some adverse reaction, but he didn’t seem to mind. She liked a confident man who wasn’t easily offended and wasn’t unreasonably jealous.
They watched Logan’s retreating back, saw him stop occasionally to chat with a guest or two, then disappear into his kitchen through a set of sliding doors.
Rick motioned with his Coke bottle toward the doors. “You just experienced firsthand why he’s called Jagger.”
“Jagger?”
“You know the Rolling Stones?”
“Of course.” She was perplexed and amused. “What are you getting at?”
“Well, let’s just say that the captain has moves like Jagger.”
Madison