What Janie Saw(80)

                “No, cops aren’t allowed to play favorites. It gets us in trouble.”

                “We certainly wouldn’t want that.”

                She almost missed his response because he muttered it under his breath. He, however, had a deep voice, rich and full. It was like hot chocolate on a cool night, wrapping her in a cocoon that promised safety and something else.

                Something she’d never let herself dream about.

                Making that toehold she’d worried about earlier an even bigger reality.

                He said, “I’m already in trouble.”

                * * *

                A GUITAR QUARTET, made up of two men and two women, stood behind a microphone and started strumming. The tune was upbeat, something Spanish-y, but they kept the volume low enough so the people milling through the John Tompkins Exhibit could still talk. Rafe just wanted to grab Janie and get out of there.

                Some of the displayed art had price tags displayed; others had bid sheets nearby. Janie clearly was in her element as she spoke to the people admiring her work. The picture of Crisco got her the most attention, as his story had been in the news. Rafe and Janie had both been there when the young cub was discovered.

                Keeping his eyes on Janie as she sipped from a bottle of water and answered questions, Rafe remembered that the day he’d met Crisco was actually the first time he’d met Janie. He ambled over to study the painting of the bear. The highest bid was seven hundred and fifty dollars.

                Rafe couldn’t remember if he’d ever purchased any art to go on his walls. He lived in a small house just north of the Corner Diner. He had two bedrooms—one that he used for an office—plus a living room, kitchen and bathroom. He’d decorated in two ways. One, with stuff he’d carried over from his childhood. Or two, with stuff his mother had bought him because she couldn’t bear his sparse bachelor’s pad.

                If his mother had her wish, he’d still be living at home.

                She should have had ten children instead of just Ramon and Rafe.

                And all she wanted now was grandchildren.

                Taking the pen attached to the stand holding the bid sheet, Rafe wrote eight hundred on the paper. Then, he crossed the number out. Without another thought, he wrote one thousand.

                He wanted the painting.

                But what he really wanted was the woman.

                She possessed the one trait he really valued in a woman—she was willing to change. She’d been open to viewing cops in a different light. Plus she could be soft and creative when necessary, but then switch to sturdy and focused if need be. And she did it with courage and beauty.

                If he didn’t watch out, he’d fall in love. The annual policemen’s banquet was fast approaching. Rafe usually took a date. This year, there was only one woman he wanted to invite. And yet, he hesitated to blur the line between business and pleasure.

                Falling for her, right now, wasn’t a good idea. It meant questions he wasn’t ready to answer, commitments he wasn’t prepared to make, feelings he wasn’t prepared to share. Not to mention the fact that she distracted him so thoroughly that he could miss something important in the case.

                So, after battling with himself, he decided not to invite her, taking the joy out of his evening.

                By ten, the finger food had vanished, the quartet had packed up and the last of the art students hurried around making sure nothing was left behind.