Scandalous Mistress: Double Take / Captivate Me / My Double Life

“Somebody smart, adventurous. Nice.”

Yep. Yep. Sometimes.

So far, so good.

“Somebody who wants the simple things and isn’t so busy climbing a corporate ladder she can’t spare a minute of compassion for anybody else.”

That sounded like a story. Before she could ask him about it, though, he continued.

“A small-town teacher who’s gorgeous and funny as hell seems to fit the bill.”

Small-town teacher? Simple? Not a ladder-climber?

Oy. Those definitely didn’t describe her. It might sound like the Lindsey he was getting to know, but he didn’t know the real woman.

Sadness stabbed her, because, the truth was, if he did meet the real her, he probably wouldn’t be interested anymore.

“So?” He stepped closer. “Give me a chance. Give us a chance.”

She let out a heavy sigh.

She wasn’t the kind of woman he wanted. She was too susceptible to his charm, already too eager to spend time with him. But if he asked her to come over so he could cook her dinner, she’d probably stay through breakfast, and they both knew it.

She did not want to be the kindergarten teacher who did the walk of shame a week after her arrival in the nicest town on earth. Especially because, after the sex, she greatly feared she’d still be left with the liking, the admiration, all the damned emotions she didn’t want to have about any man she slept with.

And when he found out who she really was, what she really did and why she was here, he probably wouldn’t have any feelings toward her at all. Other than resentment or anger if she ended up costing him a job he needed and wanted.

No. It couldn’t happen. They couldn’t work.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” she said, pleading with her eyes for him not to press her. “I just can’t.”

He stared at her in silence, watching her face, as if to gauge her determination. She sensed he was disappointed in her, even though she’d been honest from the beginning about what she was here for...and what she was not here for. He might have had the kind of week that made him change his mind. She hadn’t.

“All right,” he said with a resigned shrug. “You win.”

No, actually, she hadn’t won. In fact, she greatly feared they had both lost something. But considering where she was at this point in her life, there was really nothing she could do about it. Which just might break her heart, even if she didn’t have the guts to open it up and let a smart, sexy guy into it.

6 (#ubaaa0557-c95f-5ea4-8a18-7c09d0b19ab3)

“CHIEF, WE HAVE a problem, a very serious problem. I demand that you do something about it.”

Mike glanced up from the paperwork he’d been filling out—a requisition for some new computer equipment for use by the dispatcher—as his previously closed office door burst open without a warning knock. A member of the island’s governing council stormed in, bringing a cloud of righteous indignation and heavy perfume with her.

“Hello, Mrs. Franklin. Have a seat.”

He wondered if she heard the surprise in his voice. She was a pain in the ass, but she usually only barged in during daylight hours. It was now midevening, close to 9:00 p.m., and he’d expected a quiet Saturday night until his shift ended at ten. But apparently it wasn’t to be

He closed his folder, clicked his pen and put it down, watching as the tall, stick-thin woman with the blue-gray hair situated herself on the edge of the chair fronting his desk. She was probably his least favorite member of the council, being one of the stuffiest, most uptight people he’d met since moving here.

Mrs. Franklin was a descendent of one of the town founders and never let anyone forget it. She ran a general store up the street and considered herself the premiere businessperson of Wild Boar, having an opinion about everything and everyone. The other council members were men, and every one of them was terrified of her. He’d only been here a few months, but he was beginning to understand why. The woman had the constitution of a pit bull hidden in that gaunt frame.

“Now, what seems to be the problem?” he asked, tenting his fingers on his desk.

“Someone is peddling smut in Wild Boar,” she snapped.

His finger-tent fell. “Excuse me?”

“Filth is filling our streets, damaging the brains of our youth and threatening our entire way of life. Mainland corruption and vice have spilled into the water and landed on our shores.”

Wow. Quite a speech. And judging by the precisely chosen words and deliberate emphasis, a speech she’d rehearsed before coming in here. The violent nodding of her head and twitching of her mouth said she was working herself up to continue.

He cut her off before she could. “Why don’t you tell me what the problem is.”

“The problem is the insidious intrusion of pornography into our community.”

“Pornography?”

She jerked her chin up, her mouth tightening to the size of a quarter in disgust as she reached into her large purse and pulled out a towel-wrapped object. She dropped it onto his desk with a deep, pained grimace.

“See for yourself.”

He was almost scared to look. What, he wondered, would this prude of a woman constitute as pornography? Had somebody lent her the DVD set of the second season of Friends or something?

His curiosity aroused, he unfolded the corners of the towel, realizing right away the item was too small to be a DVD case. In fact, it was only about three-by-five inches, and was actually a book.

Reading the title, he held back a smile. Though the color illustration on the front was graphic, it was also artistic. As, he’d heard, was this particular book.

“Do you see?” she asked, tapping the tip of her finger on his desk with a sharp little peck. “Filth.”

“Ma’am, this is a copy of the Kama Sutra.” Not Big Tits and Dongs on Parade.

“I can read, Chief Santori,” the woman said, her tone as tart as her personality.

“I don’t think this book is considered pornography. In fact, it’s a revered, ancient Indian text, I believe.”

“Smut,” she said, leaning forward and whipping the book open. She swiped her fingers through the pages, angrily tapping at the illustrations. “Just look!”

“Umm. Interesting,” he said, trying to figure out how that could go there. “Where did you get this?”

“It was discovered on the very streets of our town.” She fanned herself with her hand. If she’d had some smelling salts on hand, he’d bet she’d use them to fortify herself for this horrible mission she’d undertaken. “A child found it. Can you imagine? A vulnerable child.”

Oh, hell. That was pretty awkward. “Who was it?”

“Annie Morgan’s son, Tim.”

Mike frowned. If he was remembering correctly, the Morgan boy was a senior in high school. Not exactly an innocent first grader emotionally damaged by glimpsing some artistically drawn sexual positions.

“Annie discovered it in his room.”