Maybe it was because he’d never taken her breath away just by looking into her eyes, a small voice whispered inside her head. He had never caused a jolt of electricity to go through her with a simple brush of his hand. She had never actually reacted to any man’s touch that way—until Mac.
The cake server slipped from her hand, clattering against the tile floor. The noise roused her from her disturbing thoughts, clearing away the image of Mac’s gleaming dark eyes.
“Are you okay in there?” Jerry called out from the other room.
“I’m fine,” she answered, her tone sharper than she had intended. She immediately regretted it. It wasn’t Jerry she was angry with, it was herself. She was simply going to have to get herself under control when it came to Mac Cordero. And she was going to have to take charge of this situation with Jerry. It wasn’t fair of her to lead him on.
Maybe it would be better if she simply concentrated on her brother and her business, at least for the next few weeks.
CHAPTER FOUR
MAC WAS in his motel room early Thursday evening when someone tapped on the door. He took another look at the photograph in his hand—a picture of a woman holding
a tiny infant with Mac’s dark hair and eyes—and then slipped it back into its usual place in his wallet before moving toward the door. He had to take a couple of deep breaths to release the pain and anger looking at that photo always roused in him. Only then could he answer the knock.
From long habit, he checked the peephole before releasing the lock. Curious, he opened the door and leaned against it, shoving his disturbing memories to the back of his mind. “Well, hello, Chief. Paying a social call?”
“Partially,” Wade Davenport surprised him by answering. “Mind if I come in?”
Mac stepped out of the doorway and gestured toward the two chairs beside the window. “I would offer you a drink, but all I have is half a can of soda—and it’s probably flat.”
Glancing around the rather spartan motel room, Wade asked, “Are you going to be staying here long?”
Was the police chief just making friendly conversation, or keeping tabs on the stranger in town? Mac shrugged. “I’ve been looking for an apartment to rent for the duration of the renovation job. I talked to the manager of the complex on West Elm this afternoon. I’ll probably move there next week.”
Wade wandered to the window and glanced out. “Not much of a view. The McBride Law Firm’s parking lot. The McBrides are related to my wife, you know. Caleb’s her uncle, Trevor’s her cousin.”
“There usually are a lot of family connections in a small town like this one,” Mac observed, following Wade’s glance. He wondered if the police chief would be so cool if Mac told him about his own family connection to the chief’s wife.
Turning away from the window, Wade sat in one of the chairs. Mac settled in the other. “What can I do for you, Chief?”
“Call me Wade. Seems more appropriate between colleagues, don’t you think?”
“Colleagues?” Mac repeated carefully.
“One cop to another.”
Long experienced at concealing his emotions, Mac kept his posture relaxed. “Cop to ex-cop is more accurate.”
Wade nodded acknowledgment of the distinction.
“Any particular reason you’ve been checking up on me?”
“You’ve come to my town at the same time as what passes for a crime wave in these parts. Seemed appropriate.”
“You always keep this close an eye on things around here?”
“That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
Because Mac knew how little small-town police chiefs typically earned, he chuckled dryly. “Careful. Start talking about big bucks and I’ll suspect you’re on the take.”
“Marvella Tucker slips me a dozen home-baked cookies about once a month. She’s ninety years old, likes to drive her big old car right down the middle of Main Street. She thinks I won’t ticket her if she keeps baking cookies for me.”
“Is she right?”
Wade grinned and patted his stomach. “What do you think?”
“I think I need to figure out a way to get on Mrs. Tucker’s cookie list.”