The Man Behind the Badge

‘And she was okay with that?’

‘Sure. Why wouldn’t she be?’ Tom set his jaw and ignored the laughter he could see in Jack’s face. ‘I’ll get one of your guys to drive her car back to the hospital when we go, if that’s okay?’

‘Sure. Might as well be me. I want to roust Liz out. She should have been home a couple of hours ago.’

‘Good luck with that.’

‘Yeah.’ Jack chuckled.

Kayla sucked another deep breath into her oxygen-deprived lungs. Her diaphragm had frozen from the moment the sergeant had lifted her. Making a conscious effort to ease her tension, she uncurled the fists in her lap. Her short practical nails had dug into the soft tissue, leaving small red dints in her palm.

Even with his disturbing presence gone, she could still feel his touch. Hard enough when it had just been his hand on her nape, strong fingers clasped gently on her neck, the rasp of his calloused skin while he’d been holding her head down. Being clasped to his chest, surrounded by his warmth and strength…the awareness of her female softness against the hardness of his muscular frame had overwhelmed her.

The honest, earthy scent of him, a smell that owed more to a hard day’s work than scientists testing essences in a laboratory, seemed to call to her in a way that was disturbing, primitive. She’d always liked men to be well groomed, wearing a subtle, musky aftershave. Yet no one she’d dated had ever affected her as profoundly as this man in his snug jeans and a simple black T-shirt.

Thank goodness he didn’t realise he was responsible for her light-headed state. Or at least partially responsible. If she’d eaten a proper meal before leaving Melbourne, if she hadn’t straightened from her bent position so quickly. If he hadn’t crept up on her, spoken her name so unexpectedly. Panic had made her head jerk upright, had flooded her system with an explosion of contrary stimuli. Instead of doing anything sensible, she’d nearly pitched face down at his feet. Would have if he hadn’t caught her.

Which brought her full circle back to being held in his arms. She shivered.

What was it about his brand of masculinity that left her dizzy with all sorts of chaotic feelings? Whatever it was, she didn’t like the feeling of vulnerability. There were so many strikes against him. A career police officer, strong and hard. Controlled and used to controlling. She had to find a way to cram the sergeant back into the mental box she’d managed to keep him in for the two months she’d been living in Dustin.

He’d said she should call him Tom. She didn’t even want to think about him that personally…intimately. Ridiculous though it was, if she thought of him as Tom, he’d become too real, a man she’d have to deal with. As Sergeant Jamieson, he was a police officer, someone she could keep at a distance. She was only here for another four months. Surely she could lock her unruly reactions down long enough to get through that.

She rolled her head to look at him where he stood with Jack Campbell. Both were long, lean, athletic men. Two of a kind. Yet she’d never felt threatened by Jack. He was a honey. She knew he and Liz had had their problems but they’d come through them and now their marriage was stronger than ever. They were a family, one adorable daughter and another baby on the way.

Sergeant Jamieson was a different proposition altogether. He had hot eyes. At the few social occasions she’d attended, she’d felt him watching her. He’d never put a foot wrong, but in her mind he was disturbing. Radiating a hunger that she didn’t want to think about. For things that weren’t his, things he had no right to. She shivered again. He made her feel utterly conscious of her vulnerability as a woman.

She mentally shook herself. It didn’t matter what he wanted. What she wanted was what counted. And she didn’t want any man in her life at the moment.

And definitely not someone like Sergeant Tom Jamieson.

CHAPTER THREE

TOM fell into step with Jack as they walked towards the bright lights at the hospital entrance.

‘Here are Kayla’s keys.’ Jack held out his hand.

‘Thanks,’ Tom said, spotting his quarry as soon as he stepped through the sliding door into the emergency depart ment.

Tall and straight in the shapeless green theatre pants and top, Kayla still looked entirely too appealing. Her pale face turned towards them. When she realised it was him, an interesting shade of pink bloomed along her cheek bones and her eyes darkened to stormcloud grey. He might have flattered himself that his appearance had that effect—except for the ferocious frown that pleated her forehead a split second later.

‘Uh-oh, looks like you’re in the dogbox, mate,’ murmured Jack beside him as they walked towards her.

‘Hey, Kayla.’ Jack stooped to kiss her cheek.

‘Hello, Jack.’

‘Is Liz around?’

‘She’s in the tearoom with her feet up. I think she’ll be glad to go home.’

‘That’s what I’m here for. Catch you two kids later.’ Jack grinned at the two of them and winked.

Tom watched the expressions flit over her face as her eyes followed Jack. Then suddenly she turned to face him, her silvery eyes impaling him, her mouth firm.

‘My keys, please, Sergeant?’

He juggled them in his hands, tossing them from one to the other. ‘Have you been cleared by your doctor…

Doctor?’

‘Yes, of course.’

He tilted his head and considered her. ‘So, your near collapse was because…?’

Her lips thinned and for a moment he thought she’d refuse to answer. He almost relished the opportunity to lock horns with her.

‘Low blood sugar. Tiredness. Getting up too quickly. I prescribed myself a cup of tea and grilled cheese on toast while I waited for you to return my keys.’ She held out her hand. ‘And now I’d like to go home to bed.’

Tom’s fingers clutched the keys as he bit back a tempting retort. She did not mean anything by her comment. It was not an opening or an offer. If he was a gentleman, he would definitely let that slide through to the keeper.

He cleared his throat and dangled the keys. ‘In that case…’

As she reached out, he caught her hand, gently turning it over and depositing the keys on her palm with studied care. He curled her fingers over them one at a time as he held her eyes with his.

‘Thank you.’ She tugged lightly and when he didn’t release her, she narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Was there something else…Sergeant?’

‘Yes, there is. Kayla.’ He let his tongue linger over the syllables of her name. ‘You get a good night’s sleep.’

He felt her hand twitch in his, saw a flare of awareness in her eyes. And something else. A starkness, a vulnerability.

Surely she wasn’t afraid of him. He released his grip and her hand dropped to her side.

‘Thank you, Sergeant.’

She turned away, walking quickly, her movements oddly jerky as though she was having trouble co-ordinating her limbs. As though she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

He wasn’t used to having that sort of effect on women. He knew, without conceit, that he was reasonably good looking. Kayla Morgan was indifferent, immune. No, more than that—she seemed to find him downright distasteful. Damn it, she didn’t know him well enough to feel that way about him. It rankled, made him want to get in her way, be hard to ignore.

Hands on hips, he watched until she was several metres away then he called softly, ‘Kayla?’

The stiff stride halted. ‘Yes?’

He waited, the silence stretched. She pivoted to look at him with obvious reluctance. ‘What did you want?’

There it was again, that hint of defencelessness, of desperately masked fear. It reached out and touched him. Made him want to gather her close, shield her from whatever was troubling her. Which was difficult because he seemed to be the main cause of her stress right now. How could he protect her from himself?

‘Come and see me at the station this week. I need you to make a statement about the accident.’