The Hunk Next Door(2)

Filmore glared at the kid. “You cannot convince me the police department puts safety first when our officers are more concerned with a sugar-cookie party.”

“It’s a big deal,” Danny defended himself.

Filmore launched right into another snobby rant, complaints and insults flying like fists.

Riley was about to intervene with another dumb new-guy-in-town question when a harsh, earsplitting whistle silenced the argument.

All three men in the lobby turned to the woman in the doorway that led back to the bull pen.

The woman of the hour, Riley decided, soaking up his first live view of Police Chief Jensen. Her blond hair was pulled back from her heart-shaped face and her blue eyes were sharp as lasers as she studied each of them.

Unlike the other officers he’d seen coming and going today, she wasn’t wearing the dark blue uniform. No, she wore a deep green suit with an ivory shirt, tailored perfectly to her curves. Was it some attempt at a civilian disguise or didn’t she lead by example? He took in her slender legs and the high heels and decided he appreciated the view too much to criticize her choice or rationale. Were police chiefs supposed to wear skirts? He knew the formal uniforms for women were that way, but on an average day? He’d seen her on television, had researched the decorated career that led to her current post. None of it accurately portrayed the size of her personal presence. She might be a petite little thing, but without saying a word she had full command of the room.

Her hard gaze moved deliberately from Danny to Filmore to him. He felt it like a touch. After a moment, she settled that tough blue gaze back on Filmore.

“Mr. Filmore, what is the problem here?”

“I need a moment of your time,” he began. “The new precautions are an impediment—”

She held up a hand and he stopped talking. Riley put that skill right up there with a superpower. One fact had been immediately clear: the president of the historical society loved the sound of his own voice.

Her cool gaze landed on Riley again, raked him from head to toe and back up. “You are?”

“Not a part of this,” he said, holding up his hands. “I’m just on garland detail.” He pointed to the ladder.

She eyed the ladder and then stepped forward, holding out a hand. “Name and identification, please.”

He hoped this was a stunt for the crotchety Filmore. “Was I hanging garland too fast, ma’am?”

She glared at him.

“I checked his credentials when he came in, Chief,” Danny piped up. “He’s with the design team.”

“Your name,” she insisted.

Riley gave her his friendliest lopsided grin. “Riley O’Brien.” The grin didn’t appear to be any more effective on the police chief than when he’d used it on his teachers in private school.

“You’re Irish?”

“That’s what my parents tell me.” According to his new background courtesy of the Specialists’ technology wizards, he was first-generation American, born of Irish immigrants. As he’d memorized his manufactured past it was as if the techs had somehow tapped the childhood fantasy that carried him through his long years at the orphanage.

“What brings you to Belclare?”

“Steady work,” he replied as she returned his Maryland driver’s license and the work permit.

“And you’ll be leaving when?”

“Actually, I’m thinking I’ll stay.” He looked over to Danny. “Maybe you can point me to a place to rent?”

“The personnel don’t typically stay on after the work is done,” the chief countered before Danny could reply.

Riley shrugged. “So far, I like what I see.”

She examined his progress with the decorations. “Why aren’t you done?”

“I was taking my required break, but that got interrupted.”

“Well, we won’t waste any more of your time.”

“Thank you.” He returned his wallet to his back pocket and zipped up his vest halfway. With a wave to Danny, he headed out to Sadie’s while the chief addressed Mr. Filmore.

The sky was heavy and he smelled snow on the air. Riley didn’t need a weather forecast to tell him Belclare’s annual Christmas Village would benefit from an idyllic blanket of fluffy white snow for the opening weekend. The most profitable weekend according to the background reports. All he had to do was make sure no one ruined it for them by assassinating their beloved chief of police.

Sadie’s was quiet and the hot chocolate orders were ready sooner than he’d hoped. He needed to keep an eye on the chief, but he also wanted a few minutes of distance to gather his thoughts. Whatever he’d expected, she’d been...more. Sure, she was beautiful and she clearly had her finger on the pulse of this town. He didn’t like how that made him feel. Uneasy. Turned-on. A potential lifelong assignment out here suddenly took on a new element of risk. And a potential unexpected angle.