CHAPTER FOUR
RICK RODE HIS Harley-Davidson Electra Glide onto the narrow driveway at Madison’s house. He shut off the engine and removed his helmet. The small cottage-like house wasn’t what he’d expected. As structured, organized, practical as Madison seemed to be, he’d expected something a little more...well, a little less fanciful. Whimsical was a word he couldn’t remember ever using, but that was what popped into his mind. It made him think of the houses the hobbits occupied in the Lord of the Rings movies.
He remembered his parents taking him to all three films in the series when he’d first lived with them. He smiled at the memory of how they’d tried to translate, in their broken Spanish, some of the finer points related to Middle Earth that he hadn’t understood, despite the fact that he’d spoken English reasonably well as a kid.
Just thinking about it gave him a warm feeling he’d never experienced prior to being part of the Stewart clan. Madison’s place made a similar impression on him.
Her house was well maintained, neat and orderly, if on a small scale. From what he’d seen, neat and orderly defined Madison. He dismounted and grabbed the spare helmet that had been strapped to the back carrier of his bike, then made his way to the front door.
He knocked and glanced at the planter next to him. It didn’t surprise him that he couldn’t see a single dead petal or leaf on the colorful, sweet-smelling plants or in the container. The flowers were so perfect he was tempted to touch them, to make sure they were real. He was a stickler for cleanliness, but he couldn’t consider himself particularly neat. It was almost impossible, living with a police dog.
When the door opened, he felt like a teenager experiencing his first high-school crush.
Madison was wearing a flowing, frilly, multihued summer dress that might have looked fussy on someone else. On her it looked... He couldn’t find the word for it, other than right. Her hair was in some fancy updo, little ringlets teasing the sides of her face. She wore dangly earrings. And her lips, with that beguiling smile, glistened with some sort of shiny stuff as if...well, as if she’d just been kissed and her lips were still moist from it.
He rubbed a hand over his stomach where a knot was forming because the thought of kissing her was all too tempting. Watching those lips, he saw her smile fade. He shifted his gaze to her eyes and noticed her staring at his motorcycle. He glanced over his shoulder at his bright blue bike—his pride and joy—wondering what had put the look of consternation on her face. There wasn’t anything wrong with his bike. He’d polished it to a gleam that morning. He glanced back at her. “Is something wrong?”
She motioned toward the Harley. “You brought a motorcycle.”
“Yes.”
“Look at me.” She gestured with a hand from her torso to her feet. “How am I supposed to ride on that thing in this?”
Rick did look at her. The light material fluttered in the gentle breeze, accentuating the curves he admired so much, the hem ending just above slim, shapely ankles. And he looked down at her feet, virtually naked in the high-heeled, delicate, almost nonexistent sandals she wore. He understood her dilemma, and felt a little foolish. “It’s a barbecue we’re going to,” he said in self-defense. He indicated his own faded jeans and white T-shirt. “You know, burgers, fries, apple pie and beer.”
Madison’s eyebrows furrowed. Obviously, he’d said the wrong thing.
Rick tucked the spare helmet under his arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I’d be bringing my bike. It didn’t occur to me that it would be a problem.” He dropped his gaze to her feet again, those darn sexy feet with the orangey polish on the toenails. “You can’t ride in those shoes. Do you have some sneakers or something?” He almost groaned at the look she gave him. He’d managed to put his foot in his mouth again.
“Do you really expect me to get on that thing with you? As far as my outfit goes, you’re taking me to meet your boss and your colleagues. My clients. I know I’ve already met most of them at the clinic. But that was work and I was in work clothes. Did you expect me to wear jeans?”
Rick felt frazzled and was starting to think this was a big mistake. He wasn’t usually an impulsive person, and this seemed to be a perfect example of why he shouldn’t be. “Well, yeah. That’s what they’ll all be wearing.”
“And their wives or girlfriends?”
“Much the same. But you look great!” he added hastily, forcing a too-wide smile and trying to appease her or at least recover some of the ground he seemed to be losing fast. “Really beautiful.”
Her frown was more pronounced as she eyed his bike again. “I’ll get my keys and we can take my Cayenne instead,” she decided.
He waited until she’d turned her back, then rolled his eyes. She disappeared inside her house but left the door ajar. Before Rick had a chance to wonder why she hadn’t invited him in, a big silver-gray dog, a beautiful Alaskan malamute, sauntered into the doorway. Rick wasn’t afraid of dogs—obviously not with his profession—but he knew all dogs could be protective of their handlers, uh, owners. And their territories. In this case, the dog seemed relaxed, even friendly, although he had to weigh at least a hundred and twenty pounds. There’d be a lot of power in the dog’s broad jaw. Madison hadn’t mentioned anything about having a dog, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. He wouldn’t have expected one quite so large, though. Rick tucked his hands in his pockets and smiled. “How’s it going?”
The dog plopped down right in the middle of the doorway, raised his snout and let out a woo-hoo sound.
He didn’t look menacing. Rick held out a hand for the dog to sniff. When that went well, he crouched down and scratched him behind the ears, all the while wondering what was taking Madison so long to find her keys. He might not have known her well, but one thing he’d gathered from her office and her house—she was organized and neat, meticulously so. He would’ve thought she’d know exactly where her keys were. She should have been back already.
To pass the time, Rick ran a hand along the dog’s silky coat.
He caught a whiff of that alluring musky scent of Madison’s before he saw her enter the vestibule from a hallway to the left.
“Oh, I’m glad you met Owen. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
Seeing her, he nearly toppled over. He steadied himself with a hand on the railing.
He’d been disappointed that she was averse to riding a motorcycle, something he had a zeal for. He’d also been a bit baffled by her apparent lack of spontaneity. But now, seeing her... Wow!
She didn’t seem to be holding keys. Instead, she’d reappeared wearing dark skinny jeans, a snug long-sleeved T-shirt and—biggest surprise of all—low-heeled biker boots. She’d undone the arrangement of her hair, and all that springy red now rioted around her face and shoulders, nearly down to her waist.
“You changed?” Rick immediately felt ridiculous about stating the obvious, but his brain cells must have gone into a coma. He couldn’t think straight, staring at her looking so undeniably hot.
He rose, and she gave him a flirty smile. If she’d appealed to him before, what he saw now could drive him crazy. It wasn’t about the clothes or how sexy she looked. Okay, that didn’t hurt, he corrected himself. But it was about her spontaneity and her willingness to change her plans—and her clothes. This woman was someone he could really fall for.
“Yes,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “You’d made your point.”
“Sorry? What?” He’d been so distracted again he’d lost the train of their conversation.
She smiled, showing even, white teeth between sexy, full lips. “I had to change to be able to ride on your motorcycle.” She slid an elastic off her wrist and reached up to tie her hair in a ponytail. “I’m glad Owen kept you company while I was gone,” she said, and gave the dog an affectionate hug before sending him out into the yard.
?
??Great dog. Big dog!” Rick said as they watched him find the perfect spot on the grass. When Owen sauntered back, Madison placed a kiss on his snout, signaled him to go inside and closed the door behind her.
“Ready?” he asked, holding out the helmet he brought for her.
“Ready,” she said, accepting the helmet and putting it on as she preceded him down the steps.
Rick theatrically patted a hand over his heart.
* * *
SINCE IT WAS SUNDAY, they made good time to the captain’s house in Poway just off I-15, where the barbecue was being held. Logan O’Connor’s place was a sprawling bungalow with an ample backyard. That was handy, since there were a lot of people there.
Taking in the throng, Madison was glad she’d changed. As Rick had predicted, all the men wore jeans or shorts, and there wasn’t a single woman wearing a dress.
Shortly after their arrival, Logan asked for everyone’s attention and made a toast to Jeff Bradford, their fallen colleague. Logan said that Jeff’s widow had declined to attend; her loss was too recent, her pain too raw. One by one, all the cops present shared their most memorable story about Jeff. Then they all agreed to put aside the sadness and use the occasion to celebrate Jeff’s life.
Rick introduced Madison to everyone she didn’t know. It was nice to see the cops she’d already met through work outside the clinic environment. See them relaxed. Having fun. They were welcoming and friendly, even if a few reacted with raised eyebrows or meaningful looks cast toward Rick. A couple of the single cops—the ones who’d flirted with her the most outrageously at the clinic—jokingly pretended to be heartbroken that she’d chosen Rick over them. Mostly they did it out of earshot of their dates, but the few women who heard didn’t seem to take offense.
It felt like a big, boisterous extended family, and everyone appeared to get along. Madison noticed only one person who appeared not to fit in. He sat by himself in a corner of the yard, a bottle of beer clasped in his hand. At first, she didn’t think he was a cop. He didn’t look like one. He was heavy and out of shape. She hid her surprise when Rick introduced him as Tom Brody, a K-9 Unit officer. She hadn’t met him at the clinic yet, which was fine with her. There was something about him that made her uncomfortable. In a group where everyone was having a great time, he seemed sullen.
Madison was glad when Rick moved her along toward the two police dogs that were present. He introduced her to Boomer, Logan’s explosives-detection dog. The other dog, Sawyer, was one of the newest dogs in the unit. He was still in training to be a cadaver dog.
Once she’d met everyone, they circled back to join Logan, who was standing by his barbecue.
“Can I get you a drink?” Rick asked her.
“That would be nice.”
He excused himself to move to where the coolers were, returning a short while later. He held a well-chilled bottle of beer and a can of Coke. He offered her the beer.
Madison wasn’t a big fan of beer. In fact, she’d never had a full bottle in her life. She didn’t want to be rude to their host or offend Rick, but she couldn’t stomach the stuff. “Why don’t you have the beer, and I’ll take the Coke?” she suggested, reaching for the soda instead.
“Sorry, but that’s mine. When I ride the bike, I don’t drink.”
Logan snatched the opened beer bottle from Rick. “Thanks,” he said to Rick, and tapped the bottle against the can of Coke Rick held in his hand. “Since this is my place, I’m not driving anywhere. How’d you know I wanted a cold one?” Before Rick could reply, Logan turned to Madison. “Presumptuous of him. Thinking you’d want a beer without asking you. And not even bringing you a glass!” He made a tsking sound. “Personally, I picture you more of a wine drinker.” He took a sip of the beer. “I’m thinking white wine. A well-oaked chardonnay?”
She laughed and he smiled in return. “I take it that means I’m correct?”
“It sure does. And I’d love a glass of chardonnay.”
Logan grinned at Rick, handed him his bottle and smacked him on the back. “Hold this for me, will you, while I get Madison a drink?”
Madison watched Rick for some adverse reaction, but he didn’t seem to mind. She liked a confident man who wasn’t easily offended and wasn’t unreasonably jealous.
They watched Logan’s retreating back, saw him stop occasionally to chat with a guest or two, then disappear into his kitchen through a set of sliding doors.
Rick motioned with his Coke bottle toward the doors. “You just experienced firsthand why he’s called Jagger.”
“Jagger?”
“You know the Rolling Stones?”
“Of course.” She was perplexed and amused. “What are you getting at?”
“Well, let’s just say that the captain has moves like Jagger.”
Madison laughed. “I assume you don’t mean on the dance floor, like in the song by Maroon 5? ‘Moves Like Jagger’?”
Rick raised his soda bottle to her in salute and took a sip. “I’ll let you be the judge of that. And speaking of...” His words trailed off when Logan rejoined them and handed Madison a glass of wine.
“So, Madison,” Logan began. “You’re from El Paso.”
She wondered how he’d known that. She hadn’t shared much about herself with the cops who came to the clinic. But people talked. Including Heather, the clinic’s receptionist. It occurred to her that being the captain of the unit, he might have done a background check on her when she’d been assigned to take care of the SDPD dogs. She wasn’t sure that was acceptable procedure, but realized it happened.
“And your father is Patrick Long, Supreme Court judge, correct?” he continued.
“That’s right.”
“My father used to be a police chief. He had some dealings with your father concerning matters that had fallen under your father’s jurisdiction. He held him in high regard,” Logan added.
That answered her question about how he’d known where she was from.
Rick let out a low whistle. “Your father’s a judge?”
Madison nodded. A lot of men were intimidated by what her father did for a living. She expected a cop wouldn’t be, but you never knew.
“Impressive,” was Rick’s reply.
He didn’t seem daunted. That was positive—and refreshing.
“With your family in El Paso, what brought you to our fair city?” Logan asked.
She was a private person, but one thing she didn’t mind talking about was the reason she’d moved to San Diego—her research. Still, it was a hefty subject to get into, and she had a tendency to bore people with it. Rick must have picked up on her hesitation, because he interjected smoothly. “C’mon, Jagger. Save the interrogation for business hours.”
Logan didn’t seem disturbed in the least. Madison sensed there was more than a professional relationship between these two cops based on the way they bantered back and forth; they were friends, too.
“You’ve got a point.” He smiled at Madison. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m glad Rick brought you, and I hope you enjoy yourself.”
Logan excused himself to play host to his guests, and soon he started preparing dinner. Madison knew he wasn’t married and she surmised he didn’t have a date. She did, however, see exactly how attentive and smooth he was with his female guests.
She watched him with amusement. He manned the barbecue expertly while carrying on a conversation with one of the women. Suddenly Madison was distracted by a disturbance she caught in her peripheral vision. “No. Oh, no!” she whispered.
Rick, who’d been chatting with one of his colleagues, turned to her with a questioning look. She shifted her gaze back to Logan and the barbecue just as one of the dogs, Sawyer, with a near-effortless leap, snagged a steak right off the grill. Boomer, not far behind, started to bark furiously, getting everyone’s attention.
Logan, closest to Sawyer, gave him an “Out!” command, to no effect. He tried again, but Sawyer ignored him, and cavorted with the piece of meat dangling from his mouth.
“Jackson!” Logan bellowed for the officer who must have been Sawyer’s handler. “Get your dog under control and get that piece of rib eye away from him.”
Jackson rushed over, but it was obvious he was having a hard time containing his hilarity, which only incited Sawyer, who proceeded to engage in a spirited game of chase with his handler. Boomer joined in, until Logan ordered him down, and he dropped where he was.
Madison tried not to laugh, watching Sawyer frolic around the yard. When the dog pranced in front of Brody, still sitting in the corner by himself, her eyes connected with his. Even from a distance, she could see something disconcerting in their depths. Her smile dimmed and she quickly looked away.
“Should we worry about your cooking, Jagger?” someone called out, drawing her attention back to the dog’s antics. “Sawyer’s a cadaver dog. He usually goes after rotting things!” There was another ripple of good-natured laughter as Sawyer continued to elude his handler, the steak hanging from his mouth. Another cop made a grab for the meat but ended up sprawled on the grass with only a piece of gristle that had torn loose in his hand to show for his effort.
By the time Jackson finally got hold of Sawyer, he was red-faced both from exertion and embarrassment. Everyone laughed uproariously at his expense. Jackson did his best, without success, to get the dog to release his prize.
“Might as well let him have it now,” Logan suggested. “No one’s going to want to eat that steak.”
“Sorry, Jagger,” Jackson said self-consciously. “Can I put Sawyer in Boomer’s kennel for a time-out?”
“Sure.” Logan pointed to the side yard. “But since I only had enough steak for my two-legged guests, you, my friend, are going to be eating a hot dog.”
That made all the cops laugh even harder. A few catcalls could also be heard. Madison couldn’t help laughing along with everyone else.