Secret Desire

A half smile settled on her face as she glanced at her son. “You’ve been a great little trouper, Randy. I hope the captain can get these handcuffs off us soon, so we can get you something to eat.” She looked at Luke for confirmation that their hands would soon be free.

“I’ll do my best, ma’am, but it may take a while, so maybe you two want to go to the washroom before I start on these handcuffs.”

He got the bunch of keys that he kept in the glove compartment of his car and examined them. “Let’s get busy,” he said when they returned. If none of the keys fit, he’d have to use a cutter.

“Suppose you can’t find a key,” Randy said, apparently anxious to end his ordeal.

“We’ll get them off, with or without a key. It’s just easier with a key.” Another ten minutes is all I’m giving it, he told himself as one key after another failed to fit.

“That does it. We have to go to the station, but I’ll stop along the way and get you some food. What do you want to eat, ma’am?”

He didn’t imagine the relief that spread over her countenance. “Burgers, fries and milk for Randy. Buffalo wings, fries and coffee for me.”

“I’m not drinking any milk,” Randy said.

Luke let the boy have a steely gray-eyed stare. “Your mother said you’re drinking milk, and if you want those handcuffs off, young man, you will drink milk. You got that?”

He’d have sworn that her look was one of thanks. The boy was probably a problem, but his uncouth behavior didn’t so much as put a frown on her face, and he wondered about that. His olfactory sense triggered a masculine response. Her perfume again filled his head with ideas that had nothing to do with the work of a police detective, and he tried to shut it down. When he took her arm to help them into the back of his car, she turned to him, smiling, apparently to thank him, and the bottom dropped out of his belly. He stared into her greenish brown eyes, unable to shift his glance until Randy, in another display of bad manners, jerked his mother’s arm. Get your act together, man, he cautioned himself.

He left them in the car and bought their food. Then he drove with them to his precinct on Crawford Parkway. “As soon as you finish eating, we’ll start on those handcuffs,” he said, and with a look at Randy added, “and that includes drinking all of your milk.”

While they ate, he sent a clerk to get the details of their ordeal. “What’s your name, ma’am?” Luke asked her as he began trying more keys in the handcuffs.

“Kate Middleton.”

The sooner he freed their hands, the better; he did not relish standing that close to Kate Middleton for any length of time, touching her hands and…He shook himself out of it.

“Where’re you from, Mrs. Middleton?” he asked, though he knew he’d find out as soon as he read the clerk’s report. When she told him, he resisted asking her how she happened to make the jump from Grosse Pointe to Portsmouth, because that was personal, but he wanted to know all about her. With the fingers of her free left hand, she wiped perspiration from her brow. He’d already known she was getting warm, because her spicy perfume got stronger and stronger—teasing him, daring him to enjoy her nearness and to prolong the whole torturous experience. He’d recognize that perfume again if he smelled it in Timbuktu.

“Do you think it’ll take much longer?” she asked.

“Can’t say. I’ve got another fifty or so keys that I can try. Failing that, we’ll cut them off, but that won’t be fun.” She glanced up and caught his gaze, and embarrassment reddened her flawless tan complexion. So she was attracted to him! He’d as soon not have that piece of information—she was tempting enough as it was.

“Would you like to walk, or just stand?” he asked. “I know this is tiring for both of you.”

That soft, sweet smile again. “I’ll stand for a couple of minutes, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t want to stand,” Randy put in. “I was standing all night, and I wanna go to bed.”

Luke loved children and had always wanted some of his own, but he loved nice kids, not brats. “If she wants to stand, you stand,” he said to Randy. “You may not realize this, but it’s a man’s pleasure to please the women in his life, and you’re old enough to practice that. On your feet.”

“All right,” Randy said, his tone less than friendly.

Luke felt a twinge of sympathy for the boy, but Randy Middleton was going to respect his mother, at least until those handcuffs were removed. She stood slowly, and he wasn’t sure whether that was because she was tired or because she was standing so close to him. He moved back to give her some space, and made the mistake of looking into her eyes. He was forty-two, he knew when a woman’s interest in him was more than casual. Her warm, intense gaze told him plenty. It had been a long time since he’d last wanted a particular woman, but he wanted this one. Not that it mattered. He didn’t know a thing about her, and he refused to let himself be sucked into her orbit just because his testosterone had gotten unruly.

Enough was enough! He called a junior detective. “Set up that cutter, will you?”

“I don’t know how to thank you, Captain. You’ve been so kind to us,” Kate said, rubbing the wrist that had borne the metal cuff.

“My pleasure. You may go in a couple of minutes.” He handed her a notepad. “Jot down the address of your store and the hours and telephone number, and your home address and phone number, in case I need to reach you.” He knew his young colleague had taken that information from her, but he didn’t want to raise eyebrows by copying from the record in the presence of his officers. He gave her his card. “If you have a problem of any kind, call me.”

She did as he asked and thanked him again. “Could I phone for a taxi, please?”

He looked at the address she’d given. “I’ll drop you off on my way home.”

By the time he’d taken them home, the Hamburger House had closed, so he stopped at the River Café and bought enough Cajun-fried catfish, french fries and coleslaw for two meals, got the Sunday papers and headed for his co-op town house.

For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why Kate Middleton wouldn’t get out of his head. He put on a CD and listened to his favorite music—a Max Bruch violin concerto—while he savored his lunch.

Relaxed, he thought back to the time when the woman he loved, his wife, had needed him and called for help. But he’d been busy saving someone else’s life, and he’d lost her, a victim of mistaken identity. He was not going to get involved with a woman he might have to protect. The fact that the robber had selected Kate’s store from among those nearby, which even the most inexperienced criminal should have known would yield more cash, made the crime suspicious. To his mind, it wasn’t an ordinary stickup. It occurred to him that he ought to have someone put a new lock on her store and get the keys to her. An expletive slipped through his lips.

Kate crawled into bed and replayed the day in her mind. Luke Hickson wasn’t an ordinary man whom you met on an ordinary day. The personification of gentleness, but oh, boy, you would not want to cross him. Power. He exuded it. Even seven-year-old Randy noticed it, because he hadn’t tried any of his usual antics on the captain. She couldn’t let her thoughts dwell on him, though, because such a man had to be married. And even if he wasn’t, she’d served her years of martyrdom in her marriage, and she wasn’t going that route again.

Thank God the robber hadn’t come ten minutes earlier. No one would ever know how glad she was that she’d taken all but a few dollars from the cash register and put her day’s take in the safe in the back room. She couldn’t afford to lose money. Buying a little summer home on the Albermarle Sound, moving Randy and herself into an apartment and setting up her bookstore had taken over half of her capital. Still, she was thankful. The robber had spared their lives. Tremors shook her at the thought that he might return to finish what he’d started. She hoped Luke Hickson would catch him.

She didn’t let herself dwell on the career she’d given up when Nathan moved them to Grosse Pointe, because she couldn’t resume teaching music education and advanced piano in the Portsmouth schools unless she took refresher courses or got another degree. Even then, she’d have to pass board exams again. With Randy to care for, she couldn’t spare the time or the money. Her career was a thing of the past.

She stretched out on the satin sheets—that her late husband had insisted they use—and let her bare skin enjoy the silky softness. Now that she wasn’t married, she’d taken to sleeping nude and loving it; that was part of her statement of independence.

She reached for the phone on its second ring.

“Ms. Middleton, please. Luke Hickson speaking.”

Currents of dizziness attacked her, and it seemed as though her head had lost most of its weight. “This is Kate, Captain Hickson. Is…is something the matter?” She hated the unsteadiness of her voice. The man must be used to having women roll over for him. Not this one.

“I hate to disturb your rest, but it’s occurred to me that you need a new lock and key for your store, and you need it now. With the simple padlock I put on it, a criminal wouldn’t need much imagination if he wanted to open it.”

“What do you suggest?”

“We can take care of it, but you have to be present. I can pick you up in half an hour.”

“Thanks. I’ll be ready.”

What next? She wanted to stay as far away from that man as she could get, but fate seemed to have other plans. She phoned Madge Robinson, the building superintendent.

“Madge, I have to go out for…I don’t know…an hour or two. Could you please keep an eye on Randy for me? He’s asleep.”

“In that case, I’ll go down to your place. It ain’t smart to leave a child his age alone. Be right there.”

She met Luke in the lobby and knew she’d never hear the end of it, because Madge was standing in the garden, though she should have been inside with Randy.

“Who’s with your boy?” Luke asked after handing her the new keys to her store.

She told him and waited, since it was clear he had something else to say.

“He needs a strong male hand. Where’s his father, if you don’t mind my asking?”

She hated talking about herself. Although he’d asked without seeming to probe, that didn’t make her more comfortable. “I’ve been a widow for fourteen months. Randy is showing the results of his father’s pampering and overindulgence. Sometimes he’s very unruly.”