noticed that before, of course, that he was careful not to get too close. Now, however, she wondered whether it affected every aspect of his life. Whether he ever allowed himself to touch anyone.
Any woman .
Sex had to be something he was very careful about. And if he never had it, well, that was just a crime against half of humanity. Not only incredibly hot, the man was also charming, intelligent, and had a good sense of humor lurking behind all that sternness.
So, no, an abstinent Aidan McConnell was unacceptable. It would be a complete travesty.
The very idea was also something she, personally, didn’t want to contemplate any longer.
Because combining Aidan McConnell and sex in the same thought was way too dangerous for her peace of mind.
Friday, 4:55 p.m.
As Chief Jack Dunston strolled out of the police station, he had high school football on his mind, the thirst for a cold beer in his mouth, and a pleasant couple of days to look forward to. At this time of year, Friday afternoons were all about taking off early and starting the weekend the all-American way.
The street was quiet, traffic through the small downtown area light. Lots of folks would be heading home to have an early supper so they could then go out to the stadium to cheer on the Granville Giants. Football was big in this town and he didn’t know a single person who wasn’t looking forward to this particular game.
After a short nap, he’d enjoy a cold one and a Manwich, then head over to the school. Sitting on his blue and gold cushion in the home-side bleachers, he’d wave his big foam finger and smile in self-satisfaction as the townspeople cheered and enjoyed the comforting pastime—a pleasant, old-fashioned benefit of living in a place as nice as Granville.
Other people were welcome to Savannah and Atlanta, crime ridden and fast moving, filled with people who didn’t give a damn about anything but getting ahead. He’d take this place with its neighborly outlook, family values, and laid-back lifestyle any day of the week.
He’d nearly reached his squad car, parked in a reserved spot out front, when he spotted the sheet of paper stuck under his windshield wiper. And suddenly he was no longer smiling.
“Some people got no respect,” he muttered, stalking over to remove the offending flyer. His blood pressure went even higher when he saw what it was, and he immediately tore it out, balling up the offending flyer in an angry fist.
“Hey, Chief, I saw one of those signs in the drugstore window earlier,” a voice said.
Jack clenched his teeth, wishing he hadn’t lost his temper in front of Harry Lawton, who managed the biggest bank in town. Lawton had probably been heading toward the Blue Duck Diner for the early bird dinner special. A widower, the man was a regular at the place, which specialized in the best country-fried steak in the county.
“Hey there, Mr. Lawton.”
“Have you been investigating?”
“Enough to know the girl’s eighteen and has a piece of garbage mother and a lot of reasons to leave home.”
Before Lawton could reply, another loud voice intruded. “Good afternoon, gentlemen!”
Damn. Mayor Bobby Cunningham, who had just parked his Lincoln Continental two spaces down, was getting out of his car to join the game of let’s-bother-the-chief-on-a-Friday-afternoon. What a hell of a way to start the weekend.
“What’s this I hear about another girl goin’ missin’?” Cunningham asked as he walked around the car and joined Jack and Lawton on the sidewalk.
Forcing away his instinctive reaction, which was to curse over the insult of coming out of the damned police station and finding that on his own squad car, he managed to shrug instead. “You know kids, Mayor. Just another Boro tramp taking her act on the road.”
Harry Lawton, who, Jack quickly recalled, sang the loudest every Sunday in the church choir, frowned at the description, the expression on his chubby face reproachful.
Always quick to smooth
Any woman .
Sex had to be something he was very careful about. And if he never had it, well, that was just a crime against half of humanity. Not only incredibly hot, the man was also charming, intelligent, and had a good sense of humor lurking behind all that sternness.
So, no, an abstinent Aidan McConnell was unacceptable. It would be a complete travesty.
The very idea was also something she, personally, didn’t want to contemplate any longer.
Because combining Aidan McConnell and sex in the same thought was way too dangerous for her peace of mind.
Friday, 4:55 p.m.
As Chief Jack Dunston strolled out of the police station, he had high school football on his mind, the thirst for a cold beer in his mouth, and a pleasant couple of days to look forward to. At this time of year, Friday afternoons were all about taking off early and starting the weekend the all-American way.
The street was quiet, traffic through the small downtown area light. Lots of folks would be heading home to have an early supper so they could then go out to the stadium to cheer on the Granville Giants. Football was big in this town and he didn’t know a single person who wasn’t looking forward to this particular game.
After a short nap, he’d enjoy a cold one and a Manwich, then head over to the school. Sitting on his blue and gold cushion in the home-side bleachers, he’d wave his big foam finger and smile in self-satisfaction as the townspeople cheered and enjoyed the comforting pastime—a pleasant, old-fashioned benefit of living in a place as nice as Granville.
Other people were welcome to Savannah and Atlanta, crime ridden and fast moving, filled with people who didn’t give a damn about anything but getting ahead. He’d take this place with its neighborly outlook, family values, and laid-back lifestyle any day of the week.
He’d nearly reached his squad car, parked in a reserved spot out front, when he spotted the sheet of paper stuck under his windshield wiper. And suddenly he was no longer smiling.
“Some people got no respect,” he muttered, stalking over to remove the offending flyer. His blood pressure went even higher when he saw what it was, and he immediately tore it out, balling up the offending flyer in an angry fist.
“Hey, Chief, I saw one of those signs in the drugstore window earlier,” a voice said.
Jack clenched his teeth, wishing he hadn’t lost his temper in front of Harry Lawton, who managed the biggest bank in town. Lawton had probably been heading toward the Blue Duck Diner for the early bird dinner special. A widower, the man was a regular at the place, which specialized in the best country-fried steak in the county.
“Hey there, Mr. Lawton.”
“Have you been investigating?”
“Enough to know the girl’s eighteen and has a piece of garbage mother and a lot of reasons to leave home.”
Before Lawton could reply, another loud voice intruded. “Good afternoon, gentlemen!”
Damn. Mayor Bobby Cunningham, who had just parked his Lincoln Continental two spaces down, was getting out of his car to join the game of let’s-bother-the-chief-on-a-Friday-afternoon. What a hell of a way to start the weekend.
“What’s this I hear about another girl goin’ missin’?” Cunningham asked as he walked around the car and joined Jack and Lawton on the sidewalk.
Forcing away his instinctive reaction, which was to curse over the insult of coming out of the damned police station and finding that on his own squad car, he managed to shrug instead. “You know kids, Mayor. Just another Boro tramp taking her act on the road.”
Harry Lawton, who, Jack quickly recalled, sang the loudest every Sunday in the church choir, frowned at the description, the expression on his chubby face reproachful.
Always quick to smooth
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