South Island PD: Dark Blue Part 44

"You're limping," he repeated as he descended his own stairs, boots falling heavily against the boards, then crunching against gravel.

"Twisted my ankle a little," she managed to say. "No big deal."

As she took another step toward her car, a distinct unsteadiness in her gait warned her that the damage had gone beyond a twisted ankle: her shoe had been affected. In fact, it felt alarmingly as if one kitten heel was no longer there.

"Maybe you should slow down." Instead of approaching his own vehicle, he came toward her. "Put some ice on it."

"Can't. I'll be late for work." She did her best to stand up straight, hiding the fact that her shoe was broken.

"Guess I haven't properly introduced myself." He was so close now she could see that his eyes were almost the same color as her house: a clear blue she was irresistibly attracted to. "Liam Alexander." He held out a hand a large hand she'd witnessed wrapping a towel around his naked body just half an hour ago.

Even his name was hot, and his baby blues weren't his only stunning feature: his mouth was full and his jaw was strong, a curve of bone she could just imagine dusted with dark stubble, though he was clean-shaven for work. Up close, he didn't look much older than her.

She was exactly thirty.

"Alicia Dalton." Every fiber of her being lit up, consumed by the l.u.s.t she'd been living with for the past three weeks, as her fingertips brushed his.

When he closed his hand firmly around hers, she forgot all about compensating for her broken heel and nearly toppled over.

"You should get that ankle looked at," he said, dropping his gaze to her feet.

"It's my shoe," she confessed. "I think the heel broke off when I tripped."

She had a pair of flats she kept in her car flats she'd hoped to change into without him ever knowing. Being a klutz was never convenient, but as she stood with her hand swallowed up in his, it was downright embarra.s.sing. Oh, how she would've loved for their first official introduction to have occurred under different circ.u.mstances.

He finally let go of her hand and then, without warning, dropped to his knees in front of her.

She barely stifled a gasp, one borne half of surprise and half of illicit delight. His head was just level with her hipbone, and from above she could see that his dark hair was thicker than she'd realized, though still too short to run fingers through, or really grab ahold of. She'd gladly deal with that minor disappointment though, if only he'd "Here you go." He rose to tower over her again.

It took her several moments to realize he held something pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

"Thanks," she breathed when she realized what it was.

She held out her hand, and he dropped her snapped-off kitten heel into her palm.

A couple moments ticked by in silence, and her gaze gravitated to the patch sewn onto the left sleeve of his uniform.

"You must work at Riley," she said. That was what all the locals called the ma.s.sive brick edifice some fifteen minutes away, officially the Riley Correctional Center. It was the largest prison in the state, or so Alicia had been told by one of her co-workers.

Liam nodded. "And you?"

"Me?"

"Where do you work?" he clarified.

The heat that'd been burning steadily in her cheeks intensified as it became painfully obvious that thinking clearly in the presence of a man she'd been watching shower wasn't possible.

"Wisteria Plantation House. I'm the new special events coordinator. I arrange things for weddings, corporate retreats and stuff like that."

He nodded, his crop of short hair shining in the early morning light that was chasing away the fog, growing brighter by the moment. "I know the place."

Of course he did; he sounded like a local. He had a Southern accent that softened his words and lengthened his vowels, an accent Alicia hadn't fully appreciated until she'd heard him speak.

Within easy driving distance of Wilmington, Riley County was home to the Wisteria Plantation House, some gorgeous beaches, a ma.s.sive prison and not much else. Though it was off the beaten path, Wisteria was the county's biggest tourist attraction, and anyone who lived in the area had to be familiar with it.

"How are you liking it here, so far?" he asked.

"Oh, I love it." The words tumbled out of her mouth as images from that morning whirled in front of her mind's eye, the view of his beautiful body obstructed by nothing but the steam that rose off her coffee.

"It's gotta be a big change, after DC."

That snapped her back to the present. "How'd you know I moved here from DC?"

Had her landlord been talking to her neighbors about her? Of course, Liam was her only close neighbor; the next house was nearly half a mile down the road. If not for him, it would've been like living all alone in a pine forest so peaceful, she hardly knew what to do with herself, sometimes.

"Your tags," he said, nodding toward her car.

"Oh." A minor wave of mortification washed over her as she eyed her brand new North Carolina license plate. It hadn't been long since she'd swapped out her old DC tags. "Right."

A lone cicada began to sing, a normally pleasant sound that now seemed designed to intensify uncomfortable silences.

"I don't really miss the city," she eventually said, and it was true. She'd moved because she'd craved a change of pace, and that was exactly what she'd gotten. Despite the mega-prison, Riley County was steeped in charm, from its beaches to its wisteria-swathed forests. And if she ever got the urge to be surrounded by people, she could always drive to Wilmington or down and across the South Carolina border, to Myrtle Beach.

"Don't blame you," he said. "Life's pretty good here, if you ask me. Did you buy this place, or are you renting?"

"I'm renting."

"You might wanna talk to your landlord about that window, then." He nodded toward the nearest one, which afforded a view into her kitchen. "There's a crack in the casing. He should fix that for you."

At the mention of windows, Alicia nearly suffered a heart attack. Did Liam know what she'd been enjoying along with her coffee, most mornings was he some sort of exhibitionist?

His expression was serious, his blue eyes sober as he apparently studied her damaged window.

"Thanks for the tip," she said, barely glimpsing the crack before she turned her gaze back to Liam. "I'll mention it to him."

"I've gotta go, or I'll be late for my shift," he said. "Let me know if your landlord gives you any trouble about that window. Air leaks caused by cracks like that'll run up your energy bills like you would've believe, but they're not hard to fix. If you want, I could come over with a tube of caulking and fill it in for you."

She swallowed a knot that'd formed in her throat and was threatening to cut off her breathing. "Thanks a lot. I've got to go too I'm supposed to show Wisteria to a bride-to-be in forty-five minutes."

She leapt into her car, careless of her broken heel, and sped away before Liam could say anything else about windows or caulking or filling things in. Between his words and the heat that was rising along with the sun, she was in serious danger of spontaneously combusting.

Officer Next Door and the complete Lock and Key Series are available at major booksellers everywhere.

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