The Cop. Jan Hudson
sweater behind. Oh, blast it! Now both her jacket and her sweater were there. Freudian slip? An excuse to return? Maybe. Cole was an intriguing man, and she couldn’t deny that she was affected by him. She would drop by tomorrow night after aerobics class and pick up her forgotten items.
COLE DECIDED he wanted another cup of coffee, but he quickly learned that he couldn’t carry a full mug and navigate with it and the walker back to the recliner. He cursed and drank the coffee standing up. When he finished he noticed the brown sweater hanging on the back of the straight chair.
He picked the soft garment up and sniffed it. A faint scent of spices and field flowers. The material smelled of her—just like the jacket she’d left behind. He hung the sweater over his walker and moved back to his recliner to sit down. Wadding the sweater in both hands, he buried his face in it and breathed deeply. He was bone tired, but not too tired to imagine what it would feel like to have the woman under the fabric. He felt himself stir.
Oh, hell! he thought, disgusted with his behavior. Now that he was a cripple, he was turning into one of those perverts who got off on fetishes. He started to throw the sweater across the room, but he couldn’t quite make himself let go. He dropped it across his lap and reached for another brownie.
Chapter Three
He’d learned a lot in the past twenty-four hours, Cole thought as he poured coffee into the Thermos. Mostly tips from Dan Robert during his therapy session. Now he had snap-on bags and a basket on his walker that reminded him of the gear on his bike when he was a kid. He stuck the Thermos in one of the side pockets, a mug into another and made it back to his chair without worrying about spills.
B.D. and Curtis had driven him to the hospital that afternoon, and his dad had picked him up. He’d been too tired to talk much with his dad. In fact, he’d fallen asleep soon after they returned to the motel. He hadn’t awakened until J.J. stopped by about five. He hadn’t stayed long.
Sometime later, the doorbell rang, and Cole opened the door between the apartment and the office. He smiled when he saw Kelly Martin standing there in a bright green sweat suit, her hair wadded on top of her head and held by a big yellow clip.
“You look like a leprechaun.”
She grinned. “Leprechauns are wee folks. At close to six feet, I’m more like the Jolly Green Giant.”
“You’re not six feet tall.”
“Near enough. I’m almost five-ten.”
“That’s two inches, and two inches can make a world of difference.”
She raised her eyebrows, an amused expression on her face. “Really?”
“Yep. If that bullet in my chest had been two inches over, I’d be dead.”
“And if you’d been wearing a protective vest, you wouldn’t have had more than a bruise.”
“I wasn’t planning on a shoot-out.”
She touched his face and ran her fingers lightly along his jaw. “You’ve shaved.”
“Yeah. This morning. Want a cup of coffee?”
“Thanks, but I don’t have time. I’m on my way to aerobics class next door. I hope we don’t disturb you. The music can get pretty loud.”
“I’ll manage.”
“Do you need anything?” she asked.
“Not a thing. Maybe you can stop by after your class. I have a couple of those brownies left.”
“Don’t tempt me. I wish I could, but I have to make rounds at the hospital.”
“Some other time then.”
“It’s a deal. See you later.” With a flutter of her fingers, she was gone.
He stood there for a few minutes after she left, feeling funny. Uplifted, he thought, trying to put a word to his feelings. No, that was dumb. Sounded like a spiritual experience in a tent revival.
He pushed his walker back to the recliner, eased into the seat and sat there for a minute, the backs of his fingers absently brushing his jaw. Then he dry washed his face with his hands and turned on an old Gunsmoke rerun.
KELLY WAS STRIPPING down to her exercise shorts when the door to Unit 2 opened. She glanced up toward the new arrival and was delighted to see the dark-haired woman who entered. “Hey, Carrie! When did you get into town?”
“This afternoon.”
“And you’re in exercise class instead of with your fiancée?”
Carrie Campbell, an old sorority sister from UT days and newfound friend, was engaged to Judge Frank Outlaw. She was a landman for an oil company and finishing up some projects before she moved to Naconiche and set up a law practice.
“Frank wanted to talk with his brother Cole, so I thought I’d drop by and sweat with the gang for a few minutes,” Carrie said, smiling and waving to some of the other women gathered. “I’m going over to meet Cole after Frank has time to use his persuasive skills.”
“His persuasive skills?”
“Yep. Seems that Cole has announced that he isn’t going to J.J. and Mary Beth’s wedding.”
“For heaven’s sake, why not?” Kelly asked.
“Search me. I think J.J.’s feelings are hurt, and Miss Nonie’s beside herself. Frank’s going to, quote, ‘try to talk some sense into him.”’
Mary Beth Parker, soon to be Outlaw, hurried in. “Sorry I’m late, gang, but it seems as if I have a million things to do. Wanted to remind you that I won’t be here next week.” She grinned. “We’ll be on our honeymoon, but Beverly will take over the class for me while I’m gone. Bev, will you get the music?”
“Listen, my friend,” Carrie said to Kelly as they lined up, “I’m going to be swamped with all the family doings tomorrow, but I’ll see you at the wedding on Saturday. I’m eager to catch up on all the latest.”
“Great.”
KELLY GOT A BEEP from the hospital about the time the exercise class was over. One of her patients was having problems, so instead of going home to shower and change first, she headed immediately to Naconiche Memorial.
She knew she was in trouble when she spotted Warren Iverson and his wife at the nurses’ station. The moment Mr. Iverson caught sight of her in sweats and damp hair, his beady eyes popped, and his bulldog jowls began to quiver. Mrs. Iverson stood beside him like a cornered mouse. Warren Iverson was one of the few human beings on Earth who she could actually say she detested. Unfortunately he was the chairman of the hospital board. And to put it mildly, she wasn’t on his Christmas card list, either.
He looked her up and down as if she were a fresh pile he’d just stepped in. “Dr. Martin!”
She forced a bit of a smile with her curt nod. “Mr. Iverson. Mrs. Iverson.”
“I can’t believe that you’re in the hospital dressed like that!”
Biting her lip to hold back a stinging reply, she simply shrugged and stepped around him to get her patient’s chart and speak with the nurse. Bedamned if she was going to make excuses to that jerk, nor was she going to be goaded into creating a scene. He would love an excuse to yank her hospital privileges.
Watching him from the corner of her eye, Kelly saw his mouth working like a hooked catfish and steeled herself for another assault. Thankfully it didn’t come. Mrs. Iverson timidly tugged at his coat sleeve, and he stalked down the hall.
Lorene Cuthbert, the middle-aged R.N. at the station, glared after Iverson. “Sanctimonious old fart!” she muttered as she and Kelly went in the opposite direction. “What does he have against you anyhow?”
Kelly chuckled.