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A mistake. She was making a mistake. A big one. She shouldn’t even contemplate going out with her boss, yet at five to eight she left the building, heading for a dinner date with Assistant Chief Will Pope.
Last night she had tossed and turned in bed, her second tryst with him replaying over and over in her mind. The two of them had come together twice without any intent, and both times the man had managed to rouse her desire, make her crave what he had to offer. It had been good to feel like a woman again, to enjoy the physical pleasure of it, his touch so different from her own. Part of her felt guilty for using him to scratch an inch, although another part refused to feel ashamed for allowing herself to feel good, sexy, wanted.
Damn Will Pope.
For everything that had happened, for the way he had treated her last night, she should damn him to hell and back, but the fact was, he had only used her as much as she had used him. Hell, if he had used her in the first place, it was only because she had let him.
So why was she even contemplating seeing this through, going out with him? Although she tried to tell herself it was to prove they were a mismatch, she knew it wasn’t quite the truth. She was curious about him. Who was this man who had been married twice, the man who cheated on one of his wives with Brenda Johnson? What was driving him? And what the hell did he see in her? Just the challenge of taming another strong with his charm?
Her curiosity was at least half of the truth. The other half was her anger about the way he had left her last night. He had behaved like an ass, leaving just like that, radiating utter confidence that she’d go on this date with him. Now, she was curious to see why he had invited her, and how this man behaved when they were neither at work nor having sex.
When she left the building two minutes early, she discovered that she wasn’t first. Pope--no, Will, at least for this evening--was already waiting for her. Noticing her, he let his gaze run up and down the length of her body, his lips curling into an appreciative smile. It made her want to smile back, but she quickly suppressed the impulse.
Taking him in, she found he looked good in casual clothes, in this case a pair of black pants and a navy blue sweater. His casual attire made her glad she had opted for a simple dress, green, which she knew accentuated her eyes. The knee-length garment showcased her cleavage, but was still appropriate for any place he might deem suitable for dinner.
“You look great,” he said when she reached him. He leaned in to brush his lips against her cheek. Sharon startled at this gesture so close to their workplace. Wasn’t he afraid of someone seeing them?
“Thank you,” she answered.
Holding her gaze, he sighed.
“Look, I’m sorry. For yesterday. I… I didn’t mean for this to happen. Not like this anyway. How about we start over?”
“Start over?”
“Yeah, how about we’ll have dinner, get to know each other, see what happens?”
She held her tongue. So far they had “seen what happened” twice, and it hadn’t brought them any closer to getting to know each other.
At least sexual chemistry wouldn’t be a problem for the two of them, she thought wryly. She still felt attracted to him, was ready to strip him out of his clothes within the minute. There was something about this man that intrigued her, made her want to want him. Again, she wondered why. The cop in her would never stop questioning motives, it seemed.
He was an attractive man, if not a beautiful one. He had charm, although he wasn’t slick. He had an edge, although he acted fair most of the time. Still… he seemed to hold back. There was more to him, Sharon was sure about this. In his jobs he had to play politics, he wouldn’t have come as far as he had if he didn’t know how to play his cards. Maybe this was what irked her, that she didn’t have a clear picture of the man behind the office. She didn’t want to have only half a picture of him in her mind, she wanted to know him, know about him. What made this man tick? What made him laugh? And were there things that made him cry?
She realized he was still waiting for an answer, so she nodded.
“Fine with me. Where do you want to go? Shall we take two cars?”
“I thought we take mine, if you don’t mind.”
Did she mind? A good question, one she wouldn’t find an answer to before he’d run out of patience. The implications of each possible answer ran through her head. She had a tendency to over think things, something that had ruined more than one date in her day.
“Alright, lead the way,” she answered him, waiting for him to proceed. A date with her boss. With whom she had had sex twice. She was crazy.
***
She looked stunning tonight.
Sharon Raydor was a beautiful woman, no matter what she wore, but tonight there was something more about her. The dress she wore accentuated her soft, feminine curves, and her hair didn’t look as straight as he was used to, making him wonder if she had natural curls. He’d know if he saw her first thing in the morning. An image of how she might look in his bed, still sleepy, came to his mind, and he nearly cursed out loud.
When he was with this woman his thoughts seemed to run into the same direction again and again. Not that this was all though. She fascinated him, compelled him to want to get to know her better, one of the reasons he had asked her to dinner. The other reason was he felt he had a lot to make up to her. Sharon deserved better than a tryst, or two. If he could, he’d show her there was more to him than a man who had failed at marriage twice and who had had an affair with a subordinate. If he could, he’d prove her that he wasn’t an ass, was over Brenda, and that all he wanted was to get to know her.
They spent the walk to his car in silence, although he tried to think of something he could say. Damn, when had been the last time he’d felt this nervous? It might be the aura of quiet confidence Sharon radiated. He’d seen glimpses of vulnerability in her before, but she was still the one of the most composed women he knew.
Reaching his car, he turned to her, gave her a brief smile before reaching into the pockets of his pants for his keys. His pockets were empty. Where were the damned keys? Sharon watched his fumbling first with a frown, then she bit her lip.
“Problem?”
She sounded amused. He let out a muttered curse. It cracked her defences and she began to laugh. “Missing something?”
She knew perfectly well what he was looking for. He wanted to be annoyed with her taunting but found he couldn’t. She was beautiful when she laughed, her eyes even brighter than usual.
“My car keys. I think I might have left them in the office.”
Sharon was still giggling quietly. This hadn’t been the ice breaker he had had in mind.
“Why don’t you simply call your secretary, make sure the keys are in your office, let her put them somewhere safe, and we simply take my car and come back here later to get yours.”
“Good idea,” he said, reaching for his phone to place the call.
“Sorry,” he said when he hung up. “That wasn’t planned.”
“Don’t worry. That’s life.”
“That’s embarrassing.”
“If I had to count all the times I’d embarrassed myself, I’d still be counting in a year from now.” Giving him a brief smile, she began to lead the way to her car. Of course she had no trouble with her keys, and they were soon buckled up and ready to go.
“So where to?”
So much for surprises. “I booked us a table at Mario’s. It’s a small restaurant just south of…”
“I know Mario’s.”
She started the car and they were on their way.
“I really like your choice.”
“I didn’t know you knew the place.”
“How could you’ve known. It was a place my...,” she trailed off.
He thought he understood. “A place you went with someone you used to be close to.”
Her tone was clipped now, the mood obviously tenser. “Yes, something like that.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Wonderful. Their first date, and he had messed up twice even before the date could truly begin. “We can go somewhere else.”
“No. Don’t think I don’t want to go there. I’m really fond of the food. It’s not your fault my ex-husband was fond of it as well.”
Her ex-husband. He knew she’d been married, but he hadn’t given it much thought until now. Why should he have? But now he began to wonder. Who was the man who had won Sharon Raydor’s heart, and what was the reason the marriage had failed?
“Just ask what you think you have to ask,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.
“I don’t have any questions.” No matter what had happened, it wasn’t his business. There was the odd chance they might get to talk about this all one day, though it wouldn’t be today.
“You just took me by surprise, that is all. Although the whole evening seems to be made out of surprises,” he finally said.
“Not only this evening, if you ask me.”
She was right. Their last encounters hadn’t been in his plan either. He might have admired Sharon for her good looks, her determination, but had someone asked him if he thought he’d ever get closer to her only a month ago, his answer would’ve been a firm no.
Deciding he didn’t want to avoid the topic forever, he spoke.
“I never planned for all of this to happen. I... God, I don’t have any excuses, no good ones anyway.”
She let out a dry laugh. “Neither do I. How about we just forget it?”
Taking a right turn, they reached their destination. She parked the car, and only when she reached for her belt buckle, gaving him a quick look, did he speak.
“I don’t want to forget about it. I invited you for dinner to… well, to try to get it right this time.”
He saw a flicker of understanding, but then, for a moment, he thought she’d just gloss over it, play it tough once more. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, her gaze assessing him as if she wanted to solve a riddle. She sighed.
“Who says we did something wrong in the first place? Sometimes things just happen. We’re two adults, we obviously were in need of something, and we… relieved the tension. It’s nothing we need to fix. There is no need to ‘get it right.’”
Not feeling able to resist the impulse, not wanting to, he reached out, took an errant strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger, marvelling at the soft texture, the rich colour.
“I don’t want to forget about it, Sharon.” It was the first time he had used her first name, and he liked the sound of it. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t get you out of my head. How about we have dinner and see where it leads us? If we find out it doesn’t add up, we can call it quits and forget about it.”
“Alright,” she agreed.
Without further comment, she got out of the car.
Of all the things she had feared and hoped for when it came to this dinner, she had never expected to enjoy herself. As soon as they had entered the restaurant, it was as if they both had decided to leave the awkwardness behind. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what had changed, but it was palpable in the air. She wanted to enjoy this night, to leave the questioning, doubtful cop at the door. Though some people liked to think otherwise, she was still a woman, and tonight she was a woman having dinner with a man who intrigued her. A man who, after warming up to the situation, turned out to be thoughtful, a man who possessed a great sense of humour. Slowly, she began to get a sense of who Will Pope really was, and she liked what she saw.
Mario’s itself hadn’t changed, and although she had been doubtful about the location when he’d first mentioned it, she found that her memories didn’t haunt her. This had nothing to do with her failed marriage. Instead of feeling resentment, she was happy to be here. Italian food was her favourite, and it seemed Will Pope and she had at least that in common. As the waitress guided them to a secluded booth, Sharon noted that the crowded restaurant was loud, but in a cheerful way. This atmosphere was something she had always liked about this place. Mario’s was about enjoying the food and the company.
They perused their menus and chose their meals in silence, and after the waitress came back to take their orders, she stopped at the next table as she left, a table where some woman was telling a story in Italian. Soon the whole table erupted into laughter. Sharon couldn’t help but smile at the sight and sounds.
“You should smile more often. It suits you.”
The quiet comment made her turn. Pope, no Will, watched her, a soft expression on his face.
“There’s not much to smile about in our job.”
He conceded her point with a nod. “No, there isn’t. That’s why it’s so important to have a private life, to leave the job behind after hours.”
“Do you?”
She knew his answer before he voiced it. “No. And that’s wrong. One shouldn’t live for work alone.”
“But sometimes it’s all there is.”
He was divorced, just like she was. He knew that when your private life had blown up all around you, the job was all that was left. And not only that. She believed in her job, believed she could make a difference. Her department was one other cops frowned upon, but she and her team were necessary. There had to be someone to make sure cops stayed true to their oaths, that they got their due punishment when they failed.
“I don’t want it to be all there is,” he admitted, and it was her turn to nod.
“Me neither.”
Looking at him now, she wondered. What was it that had attracted him to someone like Brenda Leigh Johnson? What had he seen in the stubborn, chaotic woman?
“I can almost hear you thinking.”
“Do you? So what am I thinking about?”
“I wish I knew. Care to share?”
The waitress arrived with their drinks, red wine for him, water for her, and they toasted each other.
“It’s a good one, isn’t it?” She, too, liked a glass of wine every so often, knew the one he had chosen was like velvet on one’s tongue.
“You like wine?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you want to try it?” he asked, offering his glass to her.
“No, thank you. I know it.”
Their gazes locked, and for a moment she allowed herself to study the man in front of her, his bright blue eyes, his sensuous lips. She could still remember how they had felt against her own. He knew how to kiss, she had to hand it to him.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Your question?”
“What’s on your mind?”
She shrugged, wondered if she should ask him. What did she have to lose?
“Why Johnson?”
He winced, sighed. Bulls-eye.
He broke eye contact, studied the content of his glass, swirled it around. “Forget it,” she said. At her words, he looked up at her.
“No, it’s alright. It’s just not easy to find an answer to that question. Sometimes I think I don’t have one. You know there’s more to Brenda than meets the eye.” He looked at her as if to gauge her reaction, as if trying to figure out if it was wise to continue or not. She didn’t flinch, didn’t speak up, waited for him to continue. Being a cop, she knew how to outwait someone.
“We just… clicked. She’s got a big heart, though it isn’t an obvious feature. I… I loved her. For the longest time. But I’m glad she moved on. Back when we had our affair, I was married, treated her like an affair, did everything so my wife didn’t get wind of it. Of us.” A self-deprecating smile danced over his face. “In short, I behaved like an ass. And once it was over, I found I didn’t want to let her go.”
Sharon remained silent, waiting.
“I messed up. But I am over her now. Brenda is the past. This is today. You don’t have to believe me, but this is the truth.”
“Thank you.”
“What for?”
“Your honesty.”
Something akin to amusement came alive in his eyes. “It’s the least I can do.” He looked around the room, seemed to soak up the atmosphere. Without any forewarning, he focused on her again.
“Tell me something about yourself.”
“Pardon me?”
“Tell me something about Sharon Raydor. Something that isn’t on record, something that isn’t obvious.”
He had stumped her with his request. Not only because it was a rather unusual one, but also because he made the impression he really wanted to know more about her. What in the world could she possibly tell him?
“I like being at the seaside better than being in the mountains.”
She had no idea what had made her say this, had surprised herself and him. After a second, he smiled.
“Me, too. When I still worked in Washington I used to drive up to the coast at most weekends, sometimes only for a walk on the beach.”
“I like to spend my weekends at the beach, too. There are some quiet bays on the way from here down to San Diego. Often you find yourself all alone out there.” It was one of her favourite pastimes. Out there, far away from the city, from work, she didn’t need to put up a mask and could just be herself.
“I know.”
They shared a look.
“I like the days I can leave it all behind,” she confessed.
“They’re rare enough as it is, aren’t they?”
Yeah, they are. She didn’t want it, but she felt her resistance melt, felt that she let him see glimpses of the woman behind the cop, glimpses of who she was when she felt comfortable. It scared her. She hadn’t made herself vulnerable to a man in years, didn’t want to risk getting hurt once more. Although wasn’t it already too late? Hadn’t he found a way through her defences? Deciding to turn the tables on him, to divert his attention, she smirked at him.
“Your turn.”
“My turn?”
“Yes. Tell me something about Will Pope that isn’t widely known.”
His gaze turned inward, and he put his glass onto the table, circled the rim with his forefinger. She wasn’t in a hurry and was happy to give him the time he needed.
“I like to read, and my favourite books are murder mysteries.”
The absurdity of it had her giggling. “Murder mysteries? Really?”
He shrugged. “I like a gripping plot.”
“Don’t you get to see enough murder in our profession?”
“You’d think so. But it started when I was still a boy. I guess it influenced my decision to become a cop in the first place. Even years on the squad did nothing to diminish my love for crime novels.”
The smile on her face just didn’t want to budge. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
An impish smile curled his lips. “Glad to hear that. It wouldn’t do to prove the things I learned thanks to these books.”
“Are you threatening me?” she teased.
He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s possible to threaten you.”
“There you’re right.”
The waitress arrived with their plates, put one in front of each of them before she left, smiling at them both.
“Well, then…. Enjoy your meal,” he said.
“You, too.”
Taking a first bite of her risotto con gamberetti, she let out a contented sigh at the taste.
“You really like Italian, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. My ex-husband is Italian. I learned to like the food.”
“Do you speak Italian, too?” he asked.
“Only a bit. He… he was borne in the States. His parents came from Italy, taught him the language. But his Italian origin wasn’t foremost on his mind, so when I wanted him to teach me his language, he did, but his heart wasn’t in it.”
Will nodded but before he could think how to steer the conversation back to less dangerous territory, she continued.
“He works as manager for an Italian company. His job that demanded a lot of travel. At least that was how it was when we were still married. We lost contact since our divorce.” She toyed with the food on her plate. “It took me some time until I realised he didn’t like to spend his evenings alone.” She shrugged. “Maybe I should’ve known, should’ve expected it. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty though.”
He hadn’t expected her to open up in this way, and given her visible discomfort, it seemed she hadn’t expected it either.
“The guy’s a jerk,” he said before he could think better of it.
Her head snapped up. “You don’t know him.” She took another bite of her risotto.
“I know enough to know that only a jerk could treat you like that.”
He took another bite of his carne al ragú before more incriminating words could leave his mouth. Something about Sharon had him off balance again and again. It had been a long time since it had happened to him. It was a feeling that made him feel awkward and exhilarated at the same time.
“That’s kind of you to say. But you know what people say about me.”
“Do I?”
“Of course you do.”
“Humour me. What do they say?”
“That I’m a cold hearted bitch, for starters.”
She spoke without much emotion, yet the way she dug into her meal with barely contained frustration told him everything he needed to know.
“You aren’t. You know it, and I know it, too. And who cares about people?”
That earned him another smile.
“So show me another side of Sharon Raydor?”
“Another side?“
“Yeah, you’re not cold hearted. But who is Sharon Raydor when she’s relaxed, just herself.”
She picked up some food, chewing slowly, making him wonder if he had just lost her, if he had wanted too much in too short a time. He waited, his patience running thin but knowing better than to hurry her.
“Why do you want to know?”
Maybe she shouldn’t question him like that, should just enjoy the evening without complicating it, but it had been too long since anyone had bothered to look behind her façade. It woke a longing in her, the longing to connect to another, to share a part of herself. A dangerous notion.
“Maybe I like you. Maybe I want to get to know you better. Maybe I simply want a chance.”
“Maybe I should start stopping complicating things.”
A small smile broke on his face. “Maybe…”
She didn’t know if it was his smile, or just the situation in general, but she realised she couldn’t shy away from people forever, couldn’t hide herself behind her job, the mask of the tough cop. Sometimes one had to go out on a limb. No risk, no gain. She hated being vulnerable, but shielding herself from everything had gotten her nowhere either. So maybe she was about to make a mistake, but mistakes were human, and so was she.
“I like walking in the rain.”
His eyes widened while he absorbed the information, the smile on his face deepening.
“So if I took you out on walk through wet LA right now you wouldn’t mind?”
“I would love it.”
“So you’re up for a walk after dinner?”
His smile was easy, and she reciprocated in kind.
“I’d love that, yes.”
For the next half an hour, they talked. She had a genuinely good time, forgotting about her doubts and just living inside the moment. It was a precious gift, and she had no idea when she had last enjoyed herself that much. Months, certainly--maybe even years.
Before she knew it, they had finished with dessert, the cheque was paid--he insisted she was his guest--and they left the restaurant. Wanting to steer them toward her car, she was surprised when he took her arm instead to lead her away from the restaurant.
“You wanted to take a walk, didn’t you?”
Yes, she had, but she didn’t think he’d taken her seriously. A light rain was still falling and they didn’t’ have an umbrella, but he didn’t seem to care. She realized she didn’t care either.
They walked along the streets, watched people, glanced at what the few shops around here had to offer. Before long, they both were rather soaked, but still they walked on, lost in discussion.
Over an hour later, they were back at her car.
“I don’t have any towels,” she said, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face.
“I was about to say sorry for making your car all wet.”
She smiled and bit her tongue to hold back the obvious joke.
“Don’t worry, it’ll dry.”
He stepped in, brushed another strand of hair from her face.
They remained silent, their gazes locked, the moment stretching taut while tension rose between them. His hand was still cupping her cheek, and she felt her skin absorbing the warmth his hand provided. If it hadn’t been for car parking nearby and a door slamming shut loudly, she didn’t know what would’ve happened.
He had nearly kissed her, still wanted to kiss her, but the moment was broken.
So he let go of her, knowing his reluctance would show. He didn’t care. He was through with denial. This woman fascinated him, and he wanted to pursue whatever there was between them. It could lead them to something great, or it wouldn’t work out. No matter what it would be, it was a chance he wanted to take. His body was already thrumming with desire for Sharon, but this night hadn’t been about sex. As difficult as it was for him to show restraint, he wanted her to understand that a physical connection wasn’t all he wanted from her.
“I guess we better get going,” he said.
“Yeah, I’ll take you home.”
“Home?”
“Yes, home. It’s enough we soak my car, don’t you think? If you don’t live far from work, I’d suggest you take a cab tomorrow and spare your car.”
Only now did he realise she had no idea where he lived. Not that he knew where she lived either. There were still many things they didn’t know, and if it were up to him, they would slowly uncover these things, one by one.
“It’s not far actually, so sure, if you don’t mind.”
The interior of the car began to fog up instantly when their dampness mingled with the heat coming from the heater.
“Sorry for the mess,” he said.
“The car will dry.”
The ride passed in near silence, some directions from him aside, and he wondered if he was the only one feeling the tension between them. Once when they had to stop at a red light, she turned to him, their gazes meeting. She looked different than she had at the beginning of their dinner, more open, not holding back from him now. This wasn’t the ice queen reigning over FID with a tough but fair hand, but a woman who was approachable, who loved to smile. The corners of her mouth turned upward, making him long to lean forward and kiss these spots.
Damn, he was smitten, and if he didn’t take care, he might fall, and fall hard. Before he could decide whether to reach out for her or not, they had to move on, and if the way Sharon’s smile deepened was any indication, she had sensed his struggle.
Before long, they reached his house. There was light coming from the living room. The babysitter. Stopping but not switching off the car, Sharon turned to him.
“Thank you for the evening. I enjoyed it.”
“I enjoyed it too.”
Everything inside of him screamed to invite her in, but he couldn’t. He had vowed to move slowly, his kids might wake up, there was the matter of the babysitter… there were at least a dozen good reasons not to try his luck. Exhaling slowly, he unbuckled his seatbelt before he followed at least one impulse. He leaned in to capture her lips with his, but kept the contact light, teasing.
Sharon pulled at his bottom lip with her teeth, soothing the sting with her tongue. Their kiss deepened, yet it kept its unhurried quality. For the first time they savoured each other, allowed themselves to fully process the sensations caused by the sensual dance of their tongues. It was Sharon who pulled away, although her hand still rested on the nape of his neck.
“We should stop,” she said with regret evident in her voice.
“But only for now.” His voice was rough from contained desire.
“Only for now, yes.”
“Will I see you again?”
“Tomorrow at work I guess,” she teased.
“Sharon…”
“How about a movie at my place sometime soon? I can cook, we can order takeout…. as you wish.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good. And now scoot.” She smiled. “Before I decide to take you with me.”
He chuckled, but left the car, his body only reluctantly obeying his mind. Once he had closed the door behind him and stepped back, she was on her way. He waited until her car had rounded the corner at the end of his lane before he moved toward his house, whistling softly to himself.
The End