Double Take by Leslie Kelly Page A

that fact.
    “True.” He sipped his coffee, eyeing her over the cup. “How are you doing, Lindsey?”
    “Fine, thanks. No more seasickness.”
    “The island doesn’t move quite as much as the ferry did.” There was a twinkle in those brown eyes, and little crinkles beside them. The guy whose very career should make him dour, was quick-to-smile, instead. She liked that about him. Among the many things she liked about him.
    His mouth, his hands, his body .
    His kiss. Oh, good lord did the man know how to kiss!
    She shook off the thoughts and replied, “That’s good. I doubt I’d survive another sea voyage anytime soon.”
    “Are you settling into the cottage okay?”
    “It’s a little drafty,” she admitted. “Being close to the lake, those watery winds tend to sift through the eaves. But I’ve got lots of blankets on my bed.”
    Shit, Lindsey. Don’t talk about your bed with this man. Because, if you do, the look on your face will make it clear to everyone in the room that you wouldn’t mind if he shared that bed.
    Fortunately, Mike didn’t take the opening she’d so stupidly left there. Probably because, unlike Saturday, they were surrounded by curious busybodies.
    He leaned over the table, keeping his voice low. “Have you had any more problems with...anybody?”
    “Not a one,” she said, knowing he was referring to his obnoxious junior officer.
    “Good. I’ve been trying to keep him busy.”
    “I appreciate it.”
    He nodded and asked, “What about the job? How’s school?”
    “It’s okay,” she said, lifting her own cup. “Different.”
    “You know, you mentioned that you’re not regularly a teacher, but you never did tell me what your real job is.”
    He waited. She didn’t respond, trying to figure out how to answer the unasked question.
    Finally, he said, “Okay, state secret.”
    “No, it’s not,” she said, feeling stupid. But yes, it is. “I’m sort of unemployed right now. That’s why this substitute position worked out so well, for me and for Callie.”
    “Where did you work before?”
    “In Chicago.” She’d intentionally misinterpreted the question, sticking to geography.
    That appeared to surprise him. Obviously he hadn’t read her license very closely last week when he’d pulled her over. “Really? Me, too.”
    “Oh!” He’d mentioned he was a recent transplant. Dumb of her to never ask where he’d come from. “Where did you live?”
    “Little Italy. Near the university. I worked for the Chicago P.D.”
    Now she was one who was surprised. “Seriously?”
    “Yeah. I started when I was twenty as a beat cop. Kept going to college at night, worked my way up. After I finished school, I landed my detective shield.”
    “You were a Chicago Police detective, and now you’re...”
    “Chief of the Tinytown Police Department?” He sighed, sounding rueful. “Yep. And, before you ask, it was my choice. I didn’t get fired for taking bribes or anything of that sort.”
    “That thought never crossed my mind.” She might not know him well—yet—but she was already sure Mike Santori was one of the good guys. “Are you happy with your decision?”
    “I guess. It hasn’t all been chocolate-chip cookies and helping old ladies cross the street, you know.”
    “I’ll bet.”
    “There are some really big pluses to living here rather than in Chicago, especially in my line of work.”
    “Such as?”
    “Not getting shot at.”
    She winced, hating the idea of it. His tone might be light, but his expression was very serious. He had been shot at. Given the crime statistics of her home city, that wasn’t surprising. She even knew a few civilians who’d been shot at and couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be a cop in such a dangerous city. She sent up a mental prayer of thanks that he’d gotten out, and not just because she was glad to have met him.
    “That’s always a bonus,” she replied, keeping things light, not asking the questions she was dying to