Lawman's Perfect Surrender. Jennifer MoreyЧитать онлайн книгу.
still well-lit, it may as well be in Amityville.
Slowly, she met Ford’s eyes again. “I would hate to impose on your time …”
“It would be no trouble.” Ford’s voice was calm and every bit as sure as Bo had been. “I’d rather not risk another attack, either.”
She smiled up at him and he looked at her mouth.
“Then it’s settled,” Bo interrupted. “You’ll stay with Gemma until Jed is caught.”
“Only if you’re sure,” Ford said, never moving his gaze from her.
“I have a guest room on the first level. You’ll be very comfortable.”
“Don’t worry about accommodating me, Ms. Johnson. I’ll just be doing my job.”
Protecting her. Making her feel safe. “Gemma.”
“Gemma,” he said in his deep voice.
A flutter of excitement warned her to be careful. So did the softening of his blue eyes. The blink that followed cleared it too soon and she felt him withdraw into the role of protector.
“You’ll be a lot more comfortable at Gemma’s house than that apartment you rent,” Bo said. “She’s fixed it up into a model of what we like to see here in town.”
“It did need a little work when I moved here.”
“It’s a beautiful place. Cold Plains wouldn’t be what it is without good people like you. Rest assured, we’ll keep Jed away from you from here on out.”
A surge of warm gratitude filled her even while she wondered why he and Samuel were being so kind to her. What was it about this town? Everyone seemed that way. It was almost too good to be true. But too good to be true was her medicine right now.
“I can’t tell you what that means to me,” she said. “I’m so happy to have found a place to live like this. It’s … it’s just … what home should be.”
Beside her, Ford eyed her askance and then turned his silent watchfulness back to Bo. The negative undercurrents couldn’t be missed, leaving Gemma wondering where they came from.
Late afternoon the next day, Gemma watched Ford close the front door after the handyman had finished replacing the window in her back patio door. Before she’d even thought to fix the window, Ford had arranged everything. Now he turned and looked at her. She’d been watching him all day, and he’d caught her many of those times. Starting with breakfast, through his many patrols of her house and yard. All afternoon while he oversaw the handyman and took calls for work. She’d tried to occupy herself with chores. Laundry. The kitchen. Reading. Always he was near, and she was drawn to him.
Staring at him from across the living room grew awkward. She turned away and headed for her back patio, loving her new window and the way it erased Jed’s presence. Outside, birds chirped and the sun lit up a clear blue sky. No wind rustled the leaves of her plum tree. Bees visited her wildflower garden. She moved over to the new fountain she’d purchased after the handyman left. It was big, elaborate and expensive, and water trickled over three tiers of beautifully carved stone. She could almost enjoy the pleasure of a simple, warm summer day.
She sat down on her one-of-a-kind, intricately and colorfully tiled patio table and put her feet up on the adjacent chair. Toying with the bracelet on her wrist, she looked down at the dangling sapphires and diamonds. Jed had bought the expensive piece for her. He’d even engraved her name in it. With love. She didn’t wear it because of that. She wore it for the constant reminder of what marrying a monster had done to her, a reminder of a mistake never to make again. She hadn’t kept anything else he’d given her, not that there was much. Falling for Ford as fast as she was couldn’t be a step in the right direction. She had to be careful. Take her time. Be decisive. Ford might seem like a good and honest man, a cop, but she needed time to heal from being with someone totally opposite. She couldn’t afford to be impulsive with men anymore.
A sound made her look over her shoulder toward the door.
Ford leaned against the doorjamb, eyes partially squinted against the sun in a western sky. He had his hands in the front pockets of his faded jeans and his ankles were crossed. The soft denim fitted him well, resting comfortably at his waist just beneath a flat stomach. And had any man looked sexier in an impeccably pressed, white long-sleeved shirt? The badge clipped over the left side of his muscular chest had to help with that.
Realizing she was really checking him out, she was about to turn away when she noticed him doing the same with her. Their eyes met. She averted hers first, too in danger of giving in to impulse.
“Fountain looks good.”
“Thanks.”
“Punishing your ex?”
She smiled, hearing his affectionate tone. “Yes.”
He chuckled. “Fourth of July is the day after tomorrow.”
Was all this small talk masking their brewing attraction? “Yeah. Town’s got a big celebration planned.” Elaborate. The streets would be lined with flowers and vendors selling food and souvenirs. A band was hired and a huge fireworks display would go off over the park. She’d heard about it all week. It would be the grandest fireworks display in the entire state of Wyoming.
Standing, she moved to the edge of the patio.
“I need you to stay close to me.”
She faced him, taking another sneak peek at him in those jeans. “Okay.” She’d have done that anyway.
Catching his gaze moving from her chest to her face, she felt as though the fireworks were starting early right here on her back patio. She checked for a wedding ring and didn’t see one. Why would a man who looked as good as him not be taken by now? Surely he had to at least have a girlfriend.
“How old are you?” she asked. He didn’t look much older than her.
A slight smile toyed with his mouth and then vanished as though he’d curtailed the enjoyment of her question and the possibility that she was interested in more than his protection. “Twenty-eight.”
Only three years older than her.
“Your girlfriend must not like you having to stay here,” she said, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious, a roundabout way of finding out if he was single. And why was she doing that anyway?
He pushed off the door frame and stepped onto the patio, walking in that macho way of his to the edge of the artfully placed stone. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Does your family live here?”
“I don’t have a family.”
The flat sound of his tone alerted her curiosity. “None?” Surely he had some kind of family.
He was standing so close to her she could smell his cologne. Nice. Subtle. Deep and just enough spice. But his short answers had her wondering. “What about your parents?”
Looking out into the yard, he didn’t respond. Whatever had happened to his parents was painful for him to talk about.
“Don’t you have anyone close?” How sad if he didn’t.
He turned back to her with much less angst. “Anna. She’s my … mother.”
Gemma didn’t know what to say. Anna was a mother figure to him and he’d obviously lost his real parents somehow.
“She won’t be able to stay away,” he said with a fond grin, surprising her. He didn’t have any trouble talking about Anna. “Knowing I’m shacked up with a woman.”
She smiled. “You’re working. Bo Fargo told you to stay with me.”
“That won’t matter. She’ll take one look at you and …” He didn’t finish.
“And what?” She