Kitabı oku: «Capturing the Cop», sayfa 3
“I’m fine,” Olivia said. That was the one thing about living at home. Everyone knew your business, even if you had moved out back to the pool house.
“So are you on your way here? I thought you could come up to the house for dinner. Blake’s at a meeting and I’m by myself.”
Just when was her parents’ next stadium tour? For people who were always out saving the world, they’d been home an awful lot lately. Olivia peered in the rearview mirror and checked her lipstick. A touch-up wouldn’t hurt. The ravish me red had faded. “I’ll have to pass on the invitation. I’m meeting a friend.”
“A friend.” Sara sounded a tad too bright as she hid her disappointment that Olivia had plans. “Do I know her?”
Olivia groaned. “Actually, Sara, no.”
“So someone new?”
“I’m going on a dinner date tonight,” Olivia admitted, since the truth was easier than dreaming up some quickie lie.
Sara seemed stunned. “You have a date?”
Without air-conditioning, the car was heating up quickly, Olivia squirmed. “Yes. A date.”
“With who?”
“Someone new,” Olivia repeated, agitation growing as the car began to bake in the July heat. “We just met. You don’t know him.”
“Olivia, you’re terrible with men. And how can I not know him? I’ve met everyone in your crowd. You’ve been hanging out with them for ages.”
Which, when one thought about it, was exactly the problem. Olivia drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. One of these days she’d learn to keep her mouth shut. That was what bad girls did.
Bad girls kept secrets from their stepmothers, even if, in Olivia’s case, the stepmother had really been the only mother she’d ever known.
Sara considered it her duty to get Olivia married, and to a godly and righteous man. As Olivia’s age edged closer to thirty-one, Sara’s maternal instinct had grown. What made Sara’s constant meddling worse was that Olivia had her grandfather to contend with, as well. He was the ultimate matchmaker.
Grandpa Joe had successfully gotten Olivia’s brother, Shane, and her cousins Darci and Harry wed. Figuring that if Grandpa Joe could bring on marital bliss, then she could, too, Sara had turned into a regular dating service for Olivia. The last man she’d introduced Olivia to had aspired to be a missionary deep inside Africa. His plans for their life had driven Olivia crazy after three minutes. No way was she sacrificing running water and electricity to help the less fortunate. Maybe that made her shallow, but not even her parents did that.
A bead of sweat formed on her brow. Time to get going. “Sara, I’m really sorry I can’t stop by tonight. I’ll come up to the main house for breakfast tomorrow. Give my love to Dad. I’ve got to run.”
Satisfied she’d said enough, Olivia disconnected before Sara launched into the lecture Olivia could tell was coming. Olivia began to put the phone in her purse but on further thought, placed the phone securely in the glove compartment. Knowing Sara, Olivia was sure her stepmother would call back, and nothing was going to ruin this night.
Heck, Olivia’s younger half brother, Shane, had sown a bucketful of oats before settling down. If Olivia even mentioned sowing a seed, her stepmother had the whole worldwide constituency out praying for her wayward, virginal stepdaughter. She’d been a fixture in her stepmother’s ministry column for years.
Olivia touched up her lipstick and opened the car door. As she stepped out, the St. Louis humidity instantly enveloped her. She smoothed out a wrinkle in her V-necked spaghetti-strap sundress. She’d wrestled all morning with her wardrobe, which had to go from work to her date. How she’d thought about wearing something bad, something black, sexy and oh, so “take me now.”
In the end, even if she had owned something like that, she couldn’t have done it. Instead, she’d settled for lace underwear, and had worn the sundress for its cleavage-enhancing abilities. She’d left the matching short-sleeved sweater in her office. She gripped her small white purse and began walking toward the restaurant.
As for the date, Olivia couldn’t remember ever being so nervous. She’d had enough blind dates in college to last her a lifetime. And then, of course, Sara had paraded eligible men through the endless social engagements that being Blake and Sara Jacobsen entailed. Both types of experiences had taught Olivia that she was terrible on her feet and lousy with idle conversation. She’d learned not to care, to pretend her inadequacies didn’t bother her, although deep down they did.
But tonight she worried. None of the men she’d met before had been as sexy as Garrett Krause. None of the men had seemed so ideal.
“Perfect for my project,” Olivia told herself aloud, much to the amusement of a passerby. Olivia walked on, voicing her thoughts only in her head. He’ll be my VITO boy. VITO was an acronym Chrissy had coined in high school—the letters being the first two of the words “virginity to.”
He’ll be the one I give my virginity to, Olivia thought. I’m thirty. It’s way past time to become a real woman, no matter what my parents say about waiting for marriage and Mr. Right. Olivia wobbled a little in the two-inch heels she wore. Garrett was tall, and she didn’t wish for him to tower over her too much.
Oh, who was she trying to fool? She never wore heels higher than an inch, and trying to be a femme fatale was as foreign to her as going to China. But tonight she hoped Garrett would find her sexy, invigorating, funny and beautiful—and slightly bad. She’d chosen him to deflower her, and she desired all that went along with the kiss and the promise of Mr. Right Now taking her to the edge and beyond. Darn it, she was long overdue. She was tired of reading about it—she wanted action. She was at the restaurant. Her fingers shook as she reached for the door handle. The moment had arrived.
CLIFF WAS ABOUT TO SIGNAL his waitress for another beer, when a movement at the hostess desk caught his attention. He lowered his hand and blinked just to make sure that what he’d seen, he’d seen clearly. He had. What was high-society Olivia Jacobsen doing in a place with zero star ratings, and alone?
Cliff squinted as some sunlight snuck underneath the awning and blinded him for a moment. When he could see again, his mouth immediately dried to a cottony texture. Garrett was greeting Olivia. She had the nerve to blush as Garrett pulled out her chair.
She was five minutes late, but the fact that Cliff had lost the “how late will she be?” bet with the guys wasn’t what upset him.
His best friend was about to have a date with Olivia Jacobsen, former fiancée of Cliff’s cousin Austin. Cliff’s parents had money and connections, but Austin’s had even more. However, the engagement had lasted only four weeks before she’d handed back the flawless diamond solitaire. Less than three months later, Olivia had been sporting another engagement ring, this one more ostentatious than Austin’s offering. Of course, that engagement also fizzled. Sure, Austin was now happily married to someone else, but in Cliff’s opinion, Olivia had toyed with his cousin’s heart.
So what was Olivia doing with Garrett, a man who couldn’t afford even a tiny engagement ring since his ex-wife had cleaned him out? This was not good. Garrett had always declared that he’d never date a rich woman again, yet here he was with Olivia. Cliff tossed his napkin on the table. He needed to get Garrett out of here—now. Cliff began to rise to his feet, but sat back down quickly before his partners noticed his erratic behavior.
Cliff clenched his hand to ease the overwhelming tension now consuming him. Had he really been about to confront Olivia? And what would he have said when he got there? He would have acted like a complete idiot. He’d have to trust that Garrett planned on doing what he had said—going on one date and one only.
Cliff frowned. Garrett had called Olivia the counter girl at the Monitor office. Everyone knew Olivia Jacobsen was vice president of corporate communications for her family’s company, Jacobsen Enterprises. She certainly didn’t work behind a counter, but probably in a lush, upper-story office with a fantastic view of downtown. Which meant, could this be a thing staged by Garrett to get the guys off his back?
Cliff took a deep, long pull of the cold beer that the waitress had placed at his elbow. Not only was Cliff a detective with sharp instincts, but he knew Garrett. The way Garrett was now toying with Olivia’s fingers meant that he didn’t have a clue who she really was.
In fact, now Cliff could view almost all of the picture, much the way he did when working a police case or puzzle. Garrett had needed a date to fulfill a bet, and somehow he’d found Olivia, probably at the Monitor offices. Why she’d been there was a mystery to solve later. Cliff would bet money that Garrett hadn’t asked Olivia her last name. Even if he had, he wouldn’t connect some counter girl with one of St. Louis’s most powerful families. He had no idea that he was out with a woman wealthier than his ex-wife.
Cliff drained more of his beer, his eyes narrowing as he saw Garrett laugh at something Olivia said. From all appearances, the date was actually going well, and as a friend, Cliff acknowledged he should be elated. Wasn’t this exactly what the guys had asked for? That Garrett be back out there on the scene? The deed done, Mason and Ben had already lost interest in Garrett’s date and were discussing how they liked the new Busch Stadium, which had opened last April.
Suddenly Ben asked Cliff a question, and Cliff turned his attention away from Garrett and Olivia. He consoled himself with one thing. If she hurt his best friend, Olivia Jacobsen would be dealing with him—and that was a promise.
Chapter Four
Garrett Krause was Mr. Right Now, Olivia decided the moment she’d let him seat her at the table for two. When his fingers had skimmed her bare shoulder, a shiver had ricocheted through her and curled her toes. Whoa.
No man’s touch had ever made her react this way. She was alive. Free. And as much as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying, it was impossible when all she could do was watch his full lips move and wonder what they would taste like during a kiss. If Garrett could bottle his sexual magnetism, he could make a fortune.
She’d definitely chosen correctly. Making love to this man would be pure heat. Her two fiancés hadn’t even raised her temperature one degree by holding her hand. Garrett’s touch had her boiling.
She hoped that tonight that he’d touch her everywhere else.
She attempted to tamp down her desire as the waitress took Olivia’s order for iced tea. Olivia had noticed Garrett drinking the unsweetened beverage, and decided that, despite her desire to be really bad and have some alcoholic courage for the night ahead, being drunk was not the way to accomplish her goal. She had never handled liquor well, and with this man, one drink was liable to have her jumping on Garrett and yelling, “Do me now.”
Her desire to lose her virginity to this gorgeous man and thus cross over to the other side and into the womanhood club notwithstanding, climbing all over him was not how Olivia intended to seduce. She wanted the flesh-and-blood act to be wonderful, a thing of which memories were made. She wanted special; she required things on her terms. She’d let parents, religion and morals control her actions for a long time, but that didn’t mean she was planning on tossing all integrity aside tonight. Despite her desire to break free, be bad and not conform to the expectations with which she’d been raised, she did not want her first experience to be tawdry.
In the flesh, Garrett Krause was every woman’s fantasy, including hers. The red polo shirt he wore failed to conceal the toned body underneath. Golden-blond hair covered his tanned arms. Blue eyes to drown in held her gaze. His full lips had already sent his dimples creasing up toward high cheekbones.
And when his fingers touched her shoulders…Olivia struggled to pay attention to what he was saying and to keep her dangerous thoughts at bay.
“Have any trouble finding the place?” he asked.
“No,” Olivia said, grateful for the diversion of his question.
She automatically placed her napkin in her lap as the waitress provided Olivia’s iced tea and then refilled Garrett’s glass.
“I’ll bring you some more crackers, too,” she said, and picked up the basket that had more empty wrappers than full packages.
“I’m glad you got here okay,” Garrett said. He gestured toward the menu the waitress had left behind. “Shall we decide on some food?”
“That sounds like a plan.” Olivia picked up the menu, hiding herself behind it. She began to read the choices, although as Garrett’s legs tangled with hers and a heat burned between them, she didn’t comprehend one item on the menu.
“Sorry,” Garrett said as he moved his leg away.
“No problem,” Olivia replied. Yet, it was.
This had to be the most awkward moment of her life, besides maybe her first kiss. After a movie, fourteen-year-old Tommy Hinkins had planted one on her so fast that she’d swallowed her gum and started choking. Her father had performed the Heimlich maneuver, and then during the car ride home given her a biblical lecture on keeping her chastity. Not a very good way to end an evening.
If Olivia didn’t do something fast, this one was going to end just as poorly, without her having seduced anyone and reached her goal of becoming a real woman.
She put her menu down, only to find Garrett staring at her.
“What?” she managed to ask.
“Nothing,” Garrett said. He grinned sheepishly, his charm washing over her. “Sorry, I just like looking at your eyes. They’re unique.”
Now, that was a safe topic. “Everyone in my family has them. My grandfather, father and my brothers and sisters, except my stepsister and stepmother.”
“Interesting,” Garrett said. The waitress deposited a basket of dinner rolls instead of crackers. “The gene for blue eyes is recessive.”
Olivia gave a shrug. “I really don’t know.”
He shook his head, sending a wave of blond hair across his forehead. Olivia popped a piece of Melba toast into her mouth in order to remain poised. He smiled, and it seemed that something molten was running through her veins.
“Sorry,” Garrett said again, that grin never changing. “I have to admit I’m a detective at heart, which is why I’m a cop. I love problem solving, so math and science were always my favorite classes.”
“I’m not a math person,” Olivia replied, filing away that he’d told her his occupation.
“Most people aren’t. Let me guess. You were more of an English major.”
Olivia nervously touched her hand to the base of her throat as she tried to make a joke. “Does it show?”
Garrett laughed at that, and Olivia began to relax. “Nah. My English teachers never looked like you. If they had, I might have had second thoughts about my career.”
Olivia blushed. Okay, maybe she wasn’t so terrible at this seduction stuff after all.
Garrett reached for the iced tea in front of him. “So, for a living I solve problems, which in a nutshell tells you all about me. What about you? You work at the Monitor.”
“I’m in communications,” Olivia said. Explaining why she’d been at the newspaper office would take too long.
He studied her for a moment before shooting her a wicked grin. “So you do work with words.”
“Well, English was my favorite subject. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. My Barbie dolls were career women in media.” She gulped. One step forward, three steps back. To her ears, she’d sounded like a fool. “Great. Now you probably think I’m crazy.”
Olivia reached for a roll.
“No,” Garrett said. He set the iced-tea glass down and his own blue eyes twinkled. “No more crazy than me. I blew up my G.I. Joe dolls with firecrackers and shot cap pistols at them.”
Happiness consumed her. He’d said absolutely the perfect thing to keep her from feeling totally stupid. On other dates, if she had said something like that, the guy would have stared at her, an astonished expression on his face. She relaxed. “You seriously blew them up?”
A muscle in Garrett’s cheek twitched and he suppressed a laugh. Olivia resisted the urge to stroke the side of his face.
“I did. Seriously.” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I was just like that kid in Toy Story. If I hadn’t been a grown man when I saw that movie, it would have given me nightmares for days.”
“You were like Sid.” She’d watched the movie several times with Bethany’s children, Olivia’s niece and nephew.
“Yep,” Garrett said without apology.
“So,” Olivia teased, “tell me. What other bad things did you do?”
FROM UNDER HIS LASHES, Garrett glanced at Olivia. Did she know the effect she was having on him? That dress left way too much to the imagination, and he found himself wanting to tear the cloth off her and see what was underneath. Her skin was smooth, with a natural color that didn’t come from tanning. Her smile lit up her whole face and her lips were full and kissable.
She’d be perfect; he knew it as sure as the sun rose in the east. Long pent-up desire that was all he was experiencing, he reassured himself. Just some lust, a normal male emotion. She made him want again. And, that was dangerous. His job required complete control, both mental and physical. Even with volatile Brenda in the mix, he’d mastered both—until tonight.
Olivia folded the menu and placed it on the table. A part of him tightened as she used those sexy lips to speak. “So, come on. What other bad things did you do?”
“Not too many,” Garrett admitted. “My dad was a police officer. So was my grandfather. I always had a fear of being too deviant. They both made sure I saw the inside of a jail very early.”
“Scared straight?”
“Yeah, maybe. But I’m determined to bring good to the world and fight evil, all that superhero stuff. Fighting the bad guys is my calling.” He paused as a different waitress approached. “Hey, Liz.”
“Hey, Garrett,” Liz answered. “I’m taking over for Sue. Her boy’s sick so she’s going home. Are you two ready to order?”
“I think so. Crab legs, Olivia? They’re the best in town. Or would you like something else?”
“That sounds perfect,” she said. She never had read the menu.
“Bring us both the crab-leg special,” Garrett said, handing Liz his menu.
“Coming right up,” the waitress said, as she retrieved both menus and walked away.
Garrett glanced quickly around the room. It was bad enough that Cliff, Ben and Mason were twenty-five feet away, laughing about something. Now Liz, Melanie’s resident gossip, would fill his partners in on what he and Olivia had ordered.
Olivia took a long sip of iced tea. “You seem to know her well.”
Garrett nodded. “A bunch of us often eat here after work. Liz is co-owner. Melanie’s her sister.”
“Oh. So do you live near here, too?”
“I own a two-family building just west of here. On the other side of Tower Grove Park, just past Southwest.”
“I know where that is,” Olivia said. “By Favazza’s and Cunetto’s?”
“Near there,” Garrett said at her mention of two restaurants in the Italian section of town Saint Louisans called The Hill. “I live on the second floor and rent out the first to a nice elderly lady. What about you?”
Her face clouded for a moment, as if she was embarrassed. “Ladue,” she said, “I rent an unused pool house. The residents are world travelers and aren’t home a lot, so I usually have a lot of privacy.”
“Ah,” Garrett said, although his cop-radar told him something didn’t fit. Unlike in St. Louis City, where it was common to see old carriage houses and above-the-garage apartments rented out, Ladue was ritzy and the whole affluent area was known for its huge mansions on three-acre-minimum lots. It was the type of town that would zone against renting garage apartments. Ladue residents were notorious for filing lawsuits over such things as what type of sign you could place in your yard.
But Olivia was smiling, and the things that did to his equilibrium made his cop’s suspicions about her place of residence a low priority. After all, he reminded himself, this was just one date.
Liz brought another basketful of bread, this time a different variety from the previous white rolls, and Garrett offered Olivia a piece. “Melanie’s runs you through a couple of different breads a night,” he said, answering her unanswered question. “Try this. Be sure to use some of the honey butter. It’s excellent.”
Olivia’s fingers connected with his as she took the slice. Heat instantly spread through his body—heat not caused by the warmth of the bread. He definitely reacted to this woman, and again his inner devil stood on his shoulder, whispering exactly what he wanted to do to her.
But Garrett was a gentleman. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess the bread’s still hot.”
“Yes,” Olivia agreed as she placed the bread on her plate, buttered the piece and ate a bite. As her lips closed, Garrett tried to stay composed. His only consolation was that her face was flushed, meaning she, too, felt the chemistry.
But this was to be only one date. Just one, designed to impress those guys over there. He would not take her to bed, no matter how tempted he might be.
Their crab legs arrived, and they made small talk while savoring their delicious dinner.
“So,” Olivia said as they began to see the bottom of the crab-leg bowl, “what shall we do after this?”
Garrett groaned—the vibration coming from his jeans wasn’t desire but his annoying pager. He yanked it out and grimaced as he read the number. Whatever had gone down must be huge for him to be contacted while off duty. Major Case Squad stuff.
“Is something wrong?” Olivia asked.
He hated seeing her expression of concern and confusion, but he didn’t have time to explain. He would call en route and find out what was up. “Remember those erratic work shifts I talked about when we met? Well, I’ve got to go,” he said simply. “Something has happened.”
Olivia sat stunned, her face mirroring her disbelief. He was tempted to use a finger and smooth away the downturn of her lips. Damn, tonight he’d actually thought of breaking his self-chosen celibacy. He’d planned to at least kiss her goodbye. That would have been nice—feeling the soft touch of some pretty lips.
The page was welcome and unwelcome at the same time.
“You’re leaving?” she asked, as if not quite believing he was serious.
“Yes.” Garrett stood and tossed a wad of bills down on the table. “That’ll cover everything. If not, tell Liz I’ll make it up to her next time. I’m sorry about this. I’ll call you, okay?”
“Okay,” Olivia said, for what else could she say? She watched with acute disappointment as Garrett left the restaurant.
Obviously she wasn’t predestined to be a bad girl about to be deflowered. Her stepmother’s prayers for divine intervention on Olivia’s behalf had probably again been answered. God always was more on Sara’s side.
Disappointment made Olivia sigh. Garrett Krause had been perfect, and making love with him would have been, too. Which meant that unless she wanted to find another male for her bad girl “VITO evening,” she had only one option.
She had to wait for Garrett to phone.
Yeah, sure. Did a man ever call? Usually when a man said “I’ll call you” at the end of a date, especially one he’d left midway through, the words were was a euphemism for “goodbye and good riddance.” And math not being her thing, Olivia wondered what the odds were that Garrett would be any different. Probably not great.
So what would a bad girl do now? No answer forth-coming, Olivia glanced at her watch. Just a little after seven. The night was still so young, and now so ruined. She stood up and headed home.
Alone.
HE RARELY WORKED LATE anymore, but tonight Henrietta had a bridge game. Joe Jacobsen, affectionately known to everyone as Grandpa Joe, had always determined that early evening, after everyone had left for the day, was the best time to work.
Joe swiveled his chair to the left, taking a moment to survey the hundred-and-eighty-degree view he had of downtown St. Louis and the Gateway Arch. Two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows gave him a view down Market Street, and the view never failed to satisfy. From his perch twenty-five stories high, he could see Union Station, the Soldier’s Memorial and the Old Courthouse far beyond. The slant of the seven o’clock sun illuminated the western face of the metal arch, making it glitter in a multitude of blues, pinks, and whites.
Joe sighed. This was his city and he loved it here. St. Louis tradition ran deep and was often slow to change—a perfect example being the “new” Busch Stadium. Oh, people had fussed over the idea of losing the old stadium in 2005, but once they entered the new one, they fell in love again.
Change was good for the soul. He’d been changing for almost eighty years.
Joe’s brow creased, and he absently stroked the beard that often made children say he looked like a thin version of Santa Claus. He was worried about Olivia.
Olivia—sweet, kind and gentle Olivia—wasn’t managing change well anymore. She’d dealt with turning thirty last year by throwing herself into her work. She’d earned the position of vice president of corporate communications and had excelled at her job these past eight months. But suddenly, with her thirty-first birthday coming—September fifteen, a little over a month away—Joe’s granddaughter was showing changes that he didn’t necessarily like. She seemed bored. Anxious.
Of course Joe knew what the problem was. Love. With two broken engagements under her belt, Olivia was more than once bitten, twice shy. She was tired. Olivia didn’t have her elder sister Claire’s workaholic commitment to Henrietta’s Restaurant—a job that kept Claire too busy even to consider a relationship. Olivia worked a forty-hour week, did some charity work and tolerated her stepmother’s matchmaking. And everyone around her appeared suddenly to be settled. Her younger brother Shane was married with a baby. Her cousins had children. Her stepsister Bethany’s children were almost ten.
Even Olivia’s fraternal twin, Nick, who’d been holed up in Chicago forever, had discovered he loved Maxie, his childhood neighbor-from-hell who’d taken up residence in the condo above his. Maxie and Nick, seemingly two complete opposites, had suddenly dropped the blinders and fallen madly in love. They’d told Joe during his last visit to Chicago, and the two lovebirds planned to tell the rest of the family in a few months, around Thanksgiving.
Joe didn’t expect Olivia to handle the news well. Oh, she’d be happy that Nick was headed to the altar, but the result would be that Sara would soon apply double pressure to get the “spinster” Olivia married off.
Sara considered Olivia hers—she’d become Olivia’s stepmother when Olivia had been five. The two were often oil and water. Sara was reserved, proper, the perfect person to stand by Blake Jacobsen’s side as he ministered to the world. Blake loved Sara without question. But Olivia had her Greek mother Kristina’s fire. That Mediterranean passion inside Olivia had been tamped down for years. She’d denied that part of herself, trying to fit into a world that wasn’t hers to fit into.
She’d settled into her role as the “perfect one” in the family, becoming the good girl who never failed to meet her parents’ expectations. Except in one. Love.
Oh, she’d tried. But luckily she’d come to her senses and backed out before being married to the wrong man just because being married was something she should have achieved by now.
Joe swiveled his chair around and glanced over at the huge grandfather clock his family had given him for his birthday. He’d promised not to meddle, promised not to matchmake. But maybe he could run interference. Give Olivia some space to loosen up, to discover herself. She needed to rebel a little, to break away from her family. She was not going to find her Mr. Right anywhere in the Blake and Sara Jacobsen dynamic.
He’d heard that Olivia had ditched work the other day, and that was a start. Sometimes having a little devil inside you was a good thing. That little devil made you appreciate all the good things so much more, made you recognize the blessings.
As the wheels in his head began to turn, Grandpa Joe smiled. He knew exactly what to do.
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