The Man Behind the Badge (7 page)

Tom swallowed hard. The picture sent a shaft of pure emotion arrowing so strongly to his heart, it bordered on pain.

She’d handled his nephew flawlessly in the arena, no frustration with his reluctance to have her examine his arm. Just a smooth segue into other checks until Ryan had the confidence to let her near the painful injury. She was fantastic to have around, taking charge, easing difficult moments in an emergency.

He loved the way she’d been so sensitive, quickly grasping Ryan’s need to walk out of the arena on his own two feet. Tom had been able to tell she hadn’t been happy about it, but she’d understood it was important.

He liked working with her. They made a good team.

A damned good team.

An achy warmth expanded through his chest. The more he knew Kayla, the more he wanted to know.

As Kayla had expected, Ryan’s arm had a classic greenstick fracture. A minor manipulation while he was under heavy sedation reduced it. And then she’d put a cast on his forearm.

Now back in the care of his mother, Ryan had immediately tried to extract a promise from the frazzled woman that she’d take him back out for the camp draft barbecue as planned.

‘Maybe. We’ll see how you are in a couple of hours,’ Charlotte prevaricated.

‘We’d better head back out to the flat, Charlie,’ Tom said with a glance at his watch.

‘Of course.’ Charlotte turned to Kayla. ‘Thank you both again for looking after Ryan.’

‘No problem, Charlotte. Everything should be fine with his arm now but let me know if you have any concerns,’ Kayla said.

‘I will, thank you.’ Charlotte put her arm across her son’s shoulders and he snuggled into her side without any self-consciousness. ‘Good luck, Tom. And listen, I don’t want to see you in here later.’

Tom grinned. ‘Yes, boss. See you, Ry.’

‘Let’s go, Kayla.’ He took her arm and Kayla was aware of Charlotte’s eyes darting between them curiously.

‘Sure. Bye, Ryan, Charlotte.’

Tom shifted his hand to the small of her back and the warmth of his touch through the light cotton of her shirt was all she could think of until he was holding the door of his vehicle open for her.

She clambered into the front passenger seat and watched him walk around the bonnet to the driver’s door. His sister’s parting words suddenly popped into her mind.

‘Why did Charlotte wish you luck?’

‘For this afternoon,’ he said as he reversed out of the parking space.

Oh. God.
She swallowed. ‘You’re competing in the camp draft?’

‘Of course.’ He put the car in gear and spun the steering-wheel. ‘Are you going to watch?’

‘No!’

He glanced at her, raising his eyebrows at her instinctive response.

‘I…don’t know,’ she said, moderating her tone. ‘Maybe.’ Her heart lurched.
Probably.

‘In medieval times, you’d have given me a token to wear to show your allegiance.’

‘Would I?’ she said dryly. ‘Wouldn’t that depend?’

‘On?’

‘On whether I…um…favoured you.’

‘And do you?’ His voice flowed like honey over her, leaving heat sweeping through her.

Oh, heavens. Too much, too fast. Too terrifying
.

‘Well, I certainly don’t want to see you skewered on the end of a lance or a cow horn, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Chicken.’ He laughed. ‘You’re dodging the issue.’

‘Not at all,’ she said smoothly. ‘Back in medieval times, I’d only have to boil a few newts’ eyes in my cauldron. Whether you got well or not would have been foretold in the entrails of some poor unsuspecting chicken. These days, it’s my job to stitch up any messy aftermaths.’

‘Speaking of aftermaths,’ he said, his voice soft and sincere, ‘you were wonderful with Ryan today. Thank you.’

‘He was a trouper.’

They spent the rest of the short journey chatting companionably. She had the feeling Tom was
managing
her, dictating the tenor of their conversations. A little push here, a relaxing topic there.

It had to be her imagination—why would he bother?

‘I’ll see you shortly,’ Tom said as he dropped her at the arena.

‘Sure.’

She walked slowly over to the stands, casting a brief look over her shoulder to see him driving slowly over to their camp. He was going to pick up Ziggy so they could compete. She still wasn’t sure if she wanted to watch, but how could she not?

As each successive competitor was announced, she felt sick with apprehension until she knew it wasn’t Tom’s turn.

‘Next in camp is Tom Jamieson.’

Her heart froze.

She watched as Tom and Ziggy ambled into the penned area and stood relaxed at the end for a signal from the judge.

Tom looked over at her and winked, his teeth a flash of white in his face. Her fingers curled into fists and she held them tight in her lap. She was relieved to see that, like all the riders before him, he wore a helmet.

With his back leg cocked, Ziggy stood looking half-asleep. Tom was running his eyes over the cattle at the other end of the fenced area. Kayla knew enough now to know he was choosing his beast. She glanced at the small milling herd, wondering which one looked most cooperative. They all looked the same—large and black with broad, wet noses and big, suspicious eyes.

‘Okay,’ said the judge.

Tom straightened, gathering the reins. Ziggy’s demeanour changed instantly, his ears flickering back and forth. Tom’s eyes focussed and he moved forward. Still relaxed but with obvious intent. Almost stalking.

Ziggy’s step had a controlled spring and the horse seemed to know which of the animals Tom had chosen.

Slowly, slowly, Tom and Ziggy rode through the group. There was no panic, they seemed to just be moseying around.

And then, suddenly, one of the beasts was free at the gate end of the camp, separated from the others by Tom and Ziggy.

In a desperate attempt to rejoin its herd, the beast tried to bolt along the fence.

But Ziggy was ready. The big horse dived at the wooden barrier, cutting off escape.

Kayla gasped, pressing her clenched fists against her mouth, mashing her lips against her teeth. Surely Tom would be flung off against the rails. But, no, he and Ziggy worked in a fluid dance as the beast dodged and weaved. There was no way they were going to let the animal evade them. Backwards and forwards. Backwards and forwards. Kayla realised her feet were shuffling in an effort to help.

‘Gate.’ Tom’s voice clipped out the command.

The attendants flung open the double gates at the front of the camp.

The beast charged through with Ziggy in hot pursuit.

Side by side, they rounded the first peg. Man and horse slowed, changed sides to manoeuvre the beast into position for the second peg. And then a huge spurt of speed. Sand flung up from Ziggy’s hooves as he curved the animal into the run for the second peg.

Right, right, right.

The horse’s shoulder nudged the animal along the desired path. Kayla’s heart pounded in her throat. For a moment it seemed as though the beast would resist. And then a yield. The figure eight was completed at a flat gallop.

Down the centre of the arena.

A final turn.

And then through the gate.

The whistle sounded and Kayla leapt to her feet to join with the applause.

A perfect run.

As the excitement of the moment drained away, Kayla realised her joints felt like cooked noodles.

Just as well there was nothing between her and Tom. Or she’d have to give the man a piece of her mind. How dared he scare her like this? Treat his life with so little regard?

‘S
O WHAT’S
with you and Tom?’ Liz’s voice floated into the tiny caravan bathroom where Kayla was freshening up for the barbecue.

Her hand jerked and a thick black smudge of mascara appeared on her cheekbone. She softly huffed out a breath and twitched a tissue from the box.

‘Nothing.’ Using a dab of face cream on the tissue, she scrubbed her skin clean. ‘There’s nothing with us.’

‘But he asked you to the barbecue with his family.’

Kayla’s stomach lurched. ‘Isn’t it like an open house?’

She stared her reflection with dismay. The pink-cheeked woman staring back from the mirror looked…excited, radiant.

Brimming with expectation…but for
what
? This wasn’t a real date—it was more of a truce.

She took a deep breath down into her diaphragm to still the swooping sensation.
All comers welcome
, that’s what Tom had said.

‘Well, yes, it is,’ Liz said.

Relief tinged with something less well-defined flashed through Kayla.

Liz went on, ‘But he’s coming back to pick you up, not entrusting you to Jack and me for directions.’ There was a small silence. ‘That seems significant.’

‘He probably has to come back to get ready anyway since his gear’s here.’ But if that was the case, wouldn’t he already be here?

Significant
. Kayla closed her eyes. Tom had called it a date but she’d avoided thinking of it that way. Having Liz attach importance to it gave unwanted weight to his interpretation. She took another deep breath then jammed her few toiletries back in the bag.

‘Thanks for the loan of your bathroom,’ she said, changing the subject as she clicked the door shut behind her.

‘You’re very welcome.’ Liz sat on the bed with her feet up, one hand rubbing the mound of her stomach.

Concerned, Kayla frowned at her friend. ‘Are you okay? Not having pains, are you?’

‘No, nothing like that.’ Liz sighed. ‘I just feel like I’ve been pregnant for ever and I can’t believe there’s only one baby in here. It’s starting to feel like I’m going to give birth to a teenager.’ Her bottom lip pouted for a moment and she wriggled her bare toes. ‘And my feet are sore.’

Kayla sat on the end of the bed. ‘Poor thing. Shall I give you a foot massage?’

‘That wasn’t a hint. Really. But…’ Liz said, then moaned as Kayla worked her thumb into the arch of one foot. ‘Oh, I’ll take it. Thank you.’

‘Do you think the baby might come early again?’

‘Yes.’ Then she sighed. ‘But maybe it’s just wishful thinking. And for goodness’ sake, please don’t tell Jack or he’ll bundle me home and tie me to the bed.’

‘Sounds like it has possibilities.’

A strangled snort of laughter spluttered out of Liz. ‘Not in my current state but…maybe down the track.’ She sighed blissfully as Kayla moved to the other foot. ‘Thanks. I was feeling sorry for myself.’

‘You should take it easy.’

‘Maybe. Kayla…about you and Tom…’ Liz trailed off.

‘There is no
me and Tom
, so whatever you’re worried about, stop it,’ Kayla said gently, as she concentrated on the ball of Liz’s foot.

‘Okay, but I just wanted to say that Tom really is a darling.’

‘I’m starting to realise that the sergeant’s rugged, manly exterior hides a certain brusque charm.’ Kayla eased Liz’s feet back on the bed then stood.

As she walked towards the bathroom to wash her hands, she heard Liz getting up.

‘It does. He’s got a heart of gold,’ Liz called as she went down to the kitchen area. ‘And you’ll like his family. His parents are lovely.’

Kayla’s hands froze for the tiniest second on the bar of soap.
Tom’s parents
. Her tension ratcheted up a notch. Well, of course they’d be there tonight. He’d said it was a
family
barbecue. Had he considered that when he’d manoeuvred her into this date? She had to believe that he had, so what did that mean, if anything?

She hung up the towel and stepped into the doorway to the kitchen as there was a commotion at the door. Jack poked his head into the van. Two-year-old Emma clung to his neck, all big brown eyes and a froth of glossy brunette ringlets.

He pursed his lips and let out a shrill wolf whistle. ‘Two hot babes. What do you think, Emmie?’ He grinned at his daughter. ‘Your dad is the luckiest man on Welshman’s Flat this weekend.’

‘Luck-ee.’ Emma touched his face.

‘Just the usual
babe
for you, darling,’ drawled Liz. ‘The
hot
one is waiting for Tom.’

Kayla’s gut did another quick roll.

‘Is that right?’ Jack’s blue eyes swung back to her. ‘Well, well.’

She gritted her teeth, willed her cheeks not to flood with hot colour and waited for Jack to comment about Tom coming to collect her.

Thankfully, his gaze shifted again to Liz and softened. ‘I’ll just have to make do with the most beautiful woman in the world.’ He flashed his wife a cocky grin and waggled his eyebrows.

‘Smooth, very smooth, Jack Campbell.’

Love shone out of every teasing word between Liz and Jack, every heated glance they exchanged. More than love, they truly
liked
each other.

An extraordinary kaleidoscope of truths held Kayla motionless for a moment. Things she’d known intellectually suddenly seemed to reach a visceral level of believability.

Marriage could work.

A large, strong man
didn’t
always rule his family with a cold, hard fist.

He didn’t have to be regimented to the exclusion of affection.

A large strong man could be sensitive, caring…

Like Jack with Liz and Emma.

She swallowed.

Like Tom had been that morning with Ryan
.

Remembering the way he’d cradled his nephew, empathy etched on his face, love clear in the tender way he’d handled his injured nephew. No question of leaving the care of the child to others, he’d been right there, taking care of transport, waiting at the hospital to make sure everything had gone smoothly.

Her chest tightened uncomfortably. He was so different from the men in her family, her father and her brother-in-law. Tom was brave and honest about his softer emotions.

Oh, God, he was more honest than she was. With her background, she felt ill equipped to deal with a man like that.

‘What time is Tom coming to pick you up?’ Liz’s question pulled Kayla out of her reverie.

‘About six.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Are you ready to go now?’

‘Just about.’ Liz turned to her husband. ‘Darling, I need you to grab some things for Emma.’

‘Sure.’ He stepped up into the van.

‘Let me get out of the way,’ Kayla said, moving along the narrow kitchen area.

As Jack made room for her to pass, Emma leaned out from her position in her father’s hold, her little arms wide, confident of her welcome. ‘Kay-lah. Hold Emmie.’

Kayla stopped to slip her feet back into the boots she’d left at the door. ‘Want me to take her while you get the gear?’

‘Yeah, thanks.’ Jack passed his daughter across.

Kayla took the toddler, settling the child’s weight on one hip as she negotiated the steps to the ground outside.

‘You’re going to have a little brother soon, Emma,’ she said, twirling gently. ‘What do you think about that?’

‘Good. I help,’ said Emma and smiled.

‘I’ll bet you’ll be a big help.’ Helpless to do anything else, Kayla grinned back at the girl. Her heart filled with a deep, unexpected yearning. ‘You know, if I spend too much time with you, I’m going to end up clucky.’

‘Cluck-ee.’

‘That’s right.’

Voluptuous chuckles gurgled in Emma’s throat. ‘Kay-lah. Cluck-ee.’

‘Uh-oh,’ she said ruefully at the word association. ‘I think I might regret this. How about we find you a different word to play with, you little syllable sponge.’

‘Sly-able.’

‘Syllable.’ Kayla squeezed the child in a spontaneous hug. ‘That’s a nice safe word, isn’t it? Syllable.’

‘Sly-able.’

‘Close enough.’ Kayla chuckled, her heart melting. She
was
clucky but the matching requirements, a man and a marriage, were a long way in her future. Still, she felt as though a tiny door had been cracked open in her entrenched rejection of the idea. Jack and Liz had unwittingly helped her see possibilities.

Tom’s image slid into her mind and sent her heart ricocheting around her ribcage.

God, she’d only just allowed herself to think abstractly that strong men weren’t all bad news. No way was she ready to start thinking about a specific man.

She had plans. If there was one thing she’d learned from her father it was the value of having plans, setting goals and achieving them.

She’d learned a lot about herself in the weeks she’d been in Dustin. Especially in the last two weeks—and, disturbingly, most of it through her contact with Tom. When she left here, she’d be grateful to him.

As Tom approached the camping area, he spotted Kayla near the door of the van.

Anticipation tightened his muscles. He slowed to a halt, forcing a breath deep into his lungs, willing himself to relax.

Kayla
.

His date.

She was a visual feast, long and slender and willowy, with little Emma bouncing on her hip. A fitted pale blue top moulded to her breasts, hugging the narrowness of her waist before flaring over the swell of her hips. Navy slacks clung to the slender curves of her legs and buttocks. Unable to resist, his eyes skimmed down to her gently swaying hips, to Emma’s chubby little leg wrapped monkey style around Kayla’s waist. She carried the child easily, stronger than her slender frame implied. Her upper body was tilted slightly to one side, a cantilever to accommodate the little girl’s weight. The posture was appealingly elegant.

Oh, hell
. He blew out a long breath, glad she hadn’t spotted him yet. Glad he had a moment to get his reactions under control. He’d promised to be on his best behaviour tonight but it wasn’t going to be easy.

He wanted Kayla.

Badly
.

She turned to speak to someone in the van and he could see her face was relaxed and happy.

Suddenly, Emma saw him and gurgled with excitement, her little hands waving. Kayla turned and he was surprised to see a quick rush of pink to her cheeks.

Such a contrast to the take-charge medical professional who’d handled Ryan earlier today. This Kayla looked self-conscious. But it was the way the laughter in her face faded that made his mood plummet.

That was the look he wanted to banish. The wariness, that visceral reaction, the instinctive closing down, preparation for something unpleasant.

He could see the moment she pulled herself up, making the effort to relax.

One day soon, he wanted to see a completely different look on her face in greeting. Something welcoming, warmer…
no, damn it
, hotter. He wanted hotter.

‘You’re here,’ she said faintly.

‘In the flesh.’

At his words, her gaze dropped to his chest, flicked across his shoulders. She looked uncomfortable. He took a deep breath and her eyes skittered away. A stilted silence descended and he felt as callow as a teenager on his first date. He cleared his throat. ‘So, are you ready to go?’

‘Oh, I hope you don’t mind but I, um, thought it’d be nice to walk over with Liz and Jack.’

‘Nice? Or safe?’

‘Both perhaps.’ She fixed him with a wily look as she tucked a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. ‘But, then, I don’t need to worry about safety, do I? You promised to be on your best behaviour.’

‘So I did.’ He swallowed.
And I will be—best behaviour…if it kills me
.

‘Good,’ she said, her face settling into an expression of serene satisfaction.

Tom wanted to reach out, touch her, rattle her again.

Best behaviour
, he thought with a touch of desperation. Was the assignment beyond him after all?

Emma reached up to touch one of Kayla’s hooped earrings.

‘Emmie, hon. I’m attached to that.’ She winced and tilted her head to relieve the pull.

Emma’s face suddenly screwed up in distress.

‘I think she’s caught her finger. Let me help.’ Tom stepped nearer and bent to the task of freeing the toddler’s fingers. As he worked, the feathery ends of Kayla’s blonde hair brushed across his knuckles and her fresh, delicious fragrance filled his head. He had to force himself to concentrate when all he really wanted to do was bury his face in the soft skin at the nape of her neck.

After a moment, Emma was free and she switched her attention to him, patting his face. His fingers fumbled to catch the jewellery as it slipped from Kayla’s ear.

‘It’s come out. The catch must have unhooked,’ he said, straightening. ‘Do you want me to take Emma while you refasten it?’

‘Oh, thanks. That’d be great.’ She sounded as breathless as he felt.

He tucked the earring into his shirt pocket and held his hands out to Emma. ‘Going to come to me, mischief?’

Emma held her hands out and began jiggling on Kayla’s hip. ‘Yes. Up.’

Kayla bent close to make the transfer easier. Tom slid his arm around the toddler, conscious of Kayla’s warmth. When he brushed her midriff, she gasped. Her wide, startled eyes flew to his. He looked down into the crystalline grey irises as dark awareness flared in her inky pupils. He was dimly aware of Emma’s arms latching onto him as he stared helplessly, his breath frozen in his chest. Then Kayla blinked and looked away, releasing him from the spell. Elation and hope swelled in his heart, making him giddy. She
was
just as affected by this charge between them as he was.

On impulse, he leaned down and quickly pressed his mouth to Kayla’s soft, warm cheek.

‘You look lovely,’ he murmured.

Fabulous, delicious…edible. But, then, he knew he’d think she looked pretty good in a chaff sack…even better in nothing at all. An ache of need spread through his gut.