Night Whispers
Page 6
Afterward, he stopped to talk to a group of children. He crouched down so that he'd be closer to their height, and whatever he said to them made them laugh. Sloan watched him, wishing a little wistfully that she could simply go out with him and not worry about the outcome.
In view of Jess's preference for tall, gorgeous women, Sloan had been stunned when he asked her out to dinner a few weeks ago and even more shocked when he asked her out again. It was so tempting to say yes. She liked him immensely, and he possessed nearly all the qualities that she wanted in a man, but Jess Jessup was simply too good-looking for comfort Unlike Sara, who wanted glamour and excitement in her marriage and who was determined to find a man who had it all—looks, charm, and money—Sloan wanted almost the opposite. She wanted "Normal."
She wanted a man who was kind, affectionate, intelligent, and dependable. In short, she wanted a life that was different from the one she'd known and yet similar enough to be comfortable—a simple life in Bell Harbor like the one she'd had, but with children and a husband who would be a loving, faithful, and reliable father. She wanted her children to be able to depend on their father's love and support. She wanted to be able to depend on that herself—for a lifetime.
Jess Jessup would have been perfect in so many ways, except that he attracted women like a human magnet, and in Sloan's opinion, that did not make him a good lifetime marriage prospect. The fact that he possessed all her other criteria in abundance made him too tempting and too risky, so she regretfully decided to avoid any sort of personal relationship with him, and that included dinner dates.
Besides, any sort of serious relationship with Jess or another police officer would surely become a distraction at work, and Sloan didn't want anything to compromise her performance. She loved her job and she liked working with the ninety law enforcement officers who made up Bell Harbor's police force. Like Jess, they were friendly and supportive, and she knew they genuinely liked her.
By four in the afternoon, Sloan was more than ready to go home. Caruso and Ingersoll had both gone home shortly after lunch, complaining of intestinal "flu," which meant Jess and Sloan were stuck there until dispatch could send over replacements.
She'd been on duty since eight o'clock that morning, and she was looking forward to a leisurely bath, a light dinner, and then finishing the book she was reading in bed. Sara had left an hour ago, after stopping by to tell Sloan that Mrs. Peak had invited her over Tuesday night to see her house and talk about redecorating the first floor. For some reason, the elderly woman wanted Sloan to be there, too, and after securing Sloan's agreement, Sara had dashed off to get ready for a date with the promising lawyer she'd recently met, whose name, she said, was Jonathan.
The approach of the dinner hour had temporarily emptied out most of the park, and Sloan was sitting beside Jess, her elbows propped on the table, her face cupped in her palms.
"You look like a forlorn little girl," Jess chided, leaning back in his metal chair and watching the people moving slowly toward the parking lot. "Are you tired or just bored?"
"I'm feeling guilty about Ingersoll and Caruso," she admitted.
"I'm not," Jess said, and chuckled to prove it "You'll be a heroine again when the guys find out."
"Do not say anything," Sloan warned. "There are no secrets in Bell Harbor, not in our department."
"Relax; Detective Reynolds. I was only joking." His voice took on a warm, somber tone Sloan had never heard him use before. "For your information, I would probably go to amazing lengths to protect you from harm; I would not purposely cause you any."
Sloan's hands fell away, and she turned to him, her eyes searching his handsome, smiling face, her expression one of comic disbelief. "Jess, are you flirting with me?"
He looked past her. "Here come our replacements." He stood up and looked around for anything he might be leaving behind. "What are your plans for tonight?" he asked conversationally as Reagan and Burnby strolled toward them.
"I'm going to bed with a good book. What about you?"
"I have a hot date," he stated, banishing Sloan's impression that he was flirting with her and making her laugh.
"Jerk," she called him affectionately; then she ducked into the tent to retrieve her purse. Officers Reagan and Burnby were standing at the table, ready to take over, when she emerged. They were both in their early forties, reliable and personable Bell Harbor cops who remembered when traffic violations and domestic disputes were about all they had to deal with, family men with wives who went to PTA and children in Little League. "Anything happening?" Ted Burnby asked her.
Sloan slipped the shoulder strap of her brown leather handbag over her shoulder and stepped over the tent ropes. "No."
"Yes," Jess contradicted. "Sloan just called me a jerk."
"Sounds like you're making progress," Burnby joked, with a wink at Sloan. "Sloan's right," Reagan contributed, grinning. "You are a jerk."
"Try the chili when you get a chance," Jess countered slyly, stepping over the tent ropes right behind Sloan.
She swung around so suddenly that she bumped into Jess, who had to grab the rope for balance. "Don't go near that chili," Sloan warned, looking around him at the others. "It made Ingersoll and Caruso sick."
"Killjoy," Jess complained, turning her around and giving her a light shove in the general direction of the parking lot. "Spoilsport."
Sloan's shoulders shook with laughter. "Idiot," she retorted.
"Hey, Sloan," Burnby called after her. "You're in the news again. That domestic call you were on last night made the news on Channel Six. You did good, kiddo."
Sloan nodded, but she was far from thrilled. She'd seen the newsclip on the six A.M. news and forgotten about it, but it certainly explained why Captain Ingersoll was in a particularly surly mood today.
As she walked away with Jess Jessup, Burnby and Reagan studied them with fascinated interest. "What do you think?" Reagan asked, referring to the betting pool at the office. "Is Jess going to get her into bed, or not? I've bet five bucks that Sloan won't go for it."
"I've got ten bucks on Jess."
Burnby squinted into the sunlight, still studying the pair, who'd stopped to talk to some people near the edge of the park. "If Sloan finds out about the pool, all hell will break loose."
"I got news for you," Reagan said, his belly shaking with laughter. "I think Sloan already knows about it, and so there's no way she's going to let him win. I think she knows about the pool, only she's too smart and too classy to let on."
In view of Jess's preference for tall, gorgeous women, Sloan had been stunned when he asked her out to dinner a few weeks ago and even more shocked when he asked her out again. It was so tempting to say yes. She liked him immensely, and he possessed nearly all the qualities that she wanted in a man, but Jess Jessup was simply too good-looking for comfort Unlike Sara, who wanted glamour and excitement in her marriage and who was determined to find a man who had it all—looks, charm, and money—Sloan wanted almost the opposite. She wanted "Normal."
She wanted a man who was kind, affectionate, intelligent, and dependable. In short, she wanted a life that was different from the one she'd known and yet similar enough to be comfortable—a simple life in Bell Harbor like the one she'd had, but with children and a husband who would be a loving, faithful, and reliable father. She wanted her children to be able to depend on their father's love and support. She wanted to be able to depend on that herself—for a lifetime.
Jess Jessup would have been perfect in so many ways, except that he attracted women like a human magnet, and in Sloan's opinion, that did not make him a good lifetime marriage prospect. The fact that he possessed all her other criteria in abundance made him too tempting and too risky, so she regretfully decided to avoid any sort of personal relationship with him, and that included dinner dates.
Besides, any sort of serious relationship with Jess or another police officer would surely become a distraction at work, and Sloan didn't want anything to compromise her performance. She loved her job and she liked working with the ninety law enforcement officers who made up Bell Harbor's police force. Like Jess, they were friendly and supportive, and she knew they genuinely liked her.
By four in the afternoon, Sloan was more than ready to go home. Caruso and Ingersoll had both gone home shortly after lunch, complaining of intestinal "flu," which meant Jess and Sloan were stuck there until dispatch could send over replacements.
She'd been on duty since eight o'clock that morning, and she was looking forward to a leisurely bath, a light dinner, and then finishing the book she was reading in bed. Sara had left an hour ago, after stopping by to tell Sloan that Mrs. Peak had invited her over Tuesday night to see her house and talk about redecorating the first floor. For some reason, the elderly woman wanted Sloan to be there, too, and after securing Sloan's agreement, Sara had dashed off to get ready for a date with the promising lawyer she'd recently met, whose name, she said, was Jonathan.
The approach of the dinner hour had temporarily emptied out most of the park, and Sloan was sitting beside Jess, her elbows propped on the table, her face cupped in her palms.
"You look like a forlorn little girl," Jess chided, leaning back in his metal chair and watching the people moving slowly toward the parking lot. "Are you tired or just bored?"
"I'm feeling guilty about Ingersoll and Caruso," she admitted.
"I'm not," Jess said, and chuckled to prove it "You'll be a heroine again when the guys find out."
"Do not say anything," Sloan warned. "There are no secrets in Bell Harbor, not in our department."
"Relax; Detective Reynolds. I was only joking." His voice took on a warm, somber tone Sloan had never heard him use before. "For your information, I would probably go to amazing lengths to protect you from harm; I would not purposely cause you any."
Sloan's hands fell away, and she turned to him, her eyes searching his handsome, smiling face, her expression one of comic disbelief. "Jess, are you flirting with me?"
He looked past her. "Here come our replacements." He stood up and looked around for anything he might be leaving behind. "What are your plans for tonight?" he asked conversationally as Reagan and Burnby strolled toward them.
"I'm going to bed with a good book. What about you?"
"I have a hot date," he stated, banishing Sloan's impression that he was flirting with her and making her laugh.
"Jerk," she called him affectionately; then she ducked into the tent to retrieve her purse. Officers Reagan and Burnby were standing at the table, ready to take over, when she emerged. They were both in their early forties, reliable and personable Bell Harbor cops who remembered when traffic violations and domestic disputes were about all they had to deal with, family men with wives who went to PTA and children in Little League. "Anything happening?" Ted Burnby asked her.
Sloan slipped the shoulder strap of her brown leather handbag over her shoulder and stepped over the tent ropes. "No."
"Yes," Jess contradicted. "Sloan just called me a jerk."
"Sounds like you're making progress," Burnby joked, with a wink at Sloan. "Sloan's right," Reagan contributed, grinning. "You are a jerk."
"Try the chili when you get a chance," Jess countered slyly, stepping over the tent ropes right behind Sloan.
She swung around so suddenly that she bumped into Jess, who had to grab the rope for balance. "Don't go near that chili," Sloan warned, looking around him at the others. "It made Ingersoll and Caruso sick."
"Killjoy," Jess complained, turning her around and giving her a light shove in the general direction of the parking lot. "Spoilsport."
Sloan's shoulders shook with laughter. "Idiot," she retorted.
"Hey, Sloan," Burnby called after her. "You're in the news again. That domestic call you were on last night made the news on Channel Six. You did good, kiddo."
Sloan nodded, but she was far from thrilled. She'd seen the newsclip on the six A.M. news and forgotten about it, but it certainly explained why Captain Ingersoll was in a particularly surly mood today.
As she walked away with Jess Jessup, Burnby and Reagan studied them with fascinated interest. "What do you think?" Reagan asked, referring to the betting pool at the office. "Is Jess going to get her into bed, or not? I've bet five bucks that Sloan won't go for it."
"I've got ten bucks on Jess."
Burnby squinted into the sunlight, still studying the pair, who'd stopped to talk to some people near the edge of the park. "If Sloan finds out about the pool, all hell will break loose."
"I got news for you," Reagan said, his belly shaking with laughter. "I think Sloan already knows about it, and so there's no way she's going to let him win. I think she knows about the pool, only she's too smart and too classy to let on."
