In the Line of Duty (First Responders 2)

There was no other professional reason for Kendra to see Jake now. The teens responsible for the break and enter and theft had been caught thanks to Jake’s description of the car. Someone else had given him the news while she was off shift. She’d also been right in that the money and alcohol were long gone. But with the investigation now closed, it was definitely clear as day that Sunday’s outing was a date.

A date with Jake Symonds. Lord help her.

She fiddled with her bathing suit straps in front of the mirror. It was a modest, cover-it-up type suit that wasn’t nearly as cute or sexy as the two-piece ones she saw on the beach these days or hanging from the hangers at the shops. Those scraps of fabric would be just about like standing in front of Jake—and everyone else—in her underwear. Right, like that was ever going to happen. Her suit was in two pieces, but the top was a black halter style that skimmed her ribs until it met the band of the bottoms. Only when she raised her arms could she see any skin around her middle, and that was a small strip only an inch wide.

She could add prude to her list of flaws, too, she supposed.

She checked her watch. Five to twelve. She had to get moving, so she pulled on a pair of cut-offs and a T-shirt, threw sunscreen and a towel in a tote bag, slid her sunglasses on her face and her feet into flip-flops.

When she got to the pub the front door was unlocked and she went inside, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the dimness. It was dark, but a radio played somewhere, the pop tune echoing through the lonely space. She shouldered her bag again and peered through to the kitchen. Sure enough, there was Jake, putting items in a cooler as he whistled along with the music.

“Hey,” she said.

He jumped at the sound of her voice. The smile she expected to see was absent, replaced instead by a momentary wild look before he dropped his chin. He focused on whatever was on the counter in front of him, hiding most of his face from her view.

“Sorry,” she offered quietly. She’d seen that look before. Usually when someone was cornered. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

He shook his head. “Didn’t hear you come in. I’ve got the sat radio on. I’m almost ready here.”

He zipped the cover of the insulated bag and disconnected his satellite radio from the dock. When he came around the corner, he paused for a moment and looked her over from head to toe. “You look different without the uniform.”

“I would hope so,” she responded, shifting under the intensity of his gaze. The shorts and shirt were old and faded, and she’d left her curly hair out of the braid she wore to work. The ocean wind would likely leave it in tangles, but she wore it up so much that letting it hang freely down her back felt like a treat.

Jake looked just as she expected—T-shirt, a different pair of board shorts and his flip-flops. His hair was shorter, slightly longer than a military cut but not much. She found she liked the crisp lines—especially the way they seemed to accentuate his eyes. They were, she realized, his best feature. Better now that the cloud of suspicion was gone from them. After what he’d said—and hadn’t said—at the fundraiser, she wondered if he still had issues with the time he’d spent overseas.

“You ready?” He lifted the cooler.

“Why not? I’m hungry.”

He grinned. “Of course you are. I’ve seen you eat. Let’s go then.”

She ignored his teasing about her big breakfast the other day and pushed the door open. Sun and heat touched her skin. “You realized you left this unlocked, right?”

Jake paused and took out his keys. “I knew you were coming and left it open for you. I’ll lock it now, don’t worry.” He turned the locks and then swept out a hand. “Your chariot awaits.”

He opened the passenger side door and she got in. His truck wasn’t brand new, but it was spotless. Jake got in and put the cooler between them, shutting the door with a satisfying slam.

Jake turned the ignition and exhaled, trying to slow the rapid beat of his heart. First of all, she’d scared him when she’d come into the pub so quietly. He still didn’t do well with surprises. He wasn’t sure that jumpiness would ever go away completely.

Then he’d come around the corner and had seen her there, all long, bare legs and wild hair and everything had gone hard on the spot.

If he’d thought her attractive before, she was downright beautiful with her hair falling around her shoulders and faded jean shorts cut off to just the right spot to fire a man’s imagination. Between the two surprises, he was one big bundle of jacked-up nerves.

Maybe what he’d planned for this afternoon wasn’t the smartest move after all. It would be better to be in public, wouldn’t it? Surrounded by other people and less tempted to look. To touch. He could always give her the option, he supposed, so as he put the truck in gear he looked over at her. “Saltwater or fresh?”

She smiled tentatively. “Salt. I like the wind and the roar. The ocean’s more…untamed, don’t you think?”

Oh God. She would turn out to be a wild one in some respects, wouldn’t she? That left out the lake, and Kingsport was bound to be busy. There was Blomidon, but the swimming wasn’t that great.

Avoiding the touristy crowd was why he’d asked a favor of a friend in the first place, thinking it a perfect idea. Idiot.

He swallowed. “The ocean it is.”

He drove them out past Canning and towards Kingsport, stopping at a driveway on the right and pulling in. “Where are we?” she asked. “The beach is still a few minutes up the road.”

He shut off the truck and turned in the seat, feeling suddenly sheepish. He’d thought a little privacy might be good—away from the prying eyes of people who were too nosy for their own good, and the general busyness of a public beach. Now he wondered what the heck she might read into his idea. He cleared his throat.

“Warm Sunday like this, the beach is bound to be crowded. A friend of the family lives here and told me ages ago I could use his access whenever I wanted. I thought you might like it better than fighting for beach space.”