Free Too Close to Home by Maureen Tan Page A

minutes, stretched, then slid from my bed. When I opened the bedroom door, the aroma of hickory smoke was joined by mellow undertones of coffee and a hint of sweet vanilla. Pancakes or French toast, I guessed, as much from experience as from an intimate knowledge of the groceries I had on hand. Though I couldn’t smell them, I knew that there would be scrambled eggs, too. Chad enjoyed a big breakfast and was an enthusiastic cook. Something I’d never complained about.
    Lack of barking from the kennel and the kitchen meant that he’d already fed the dogs, too. No doubt he’d doubled Possum’s morning ration because Possum would have greeted Chad—and the sight of the food dish—with a brown-eyed,starved-puppy look and tail-wagging enthusiasm. Highball was far from being a puppy of any kind and definitely more dignified. But he would undoubtedly have received a double ration, too, because Chad took pride in being a fair man and, besides, loved the old dog almost as much as I did. As I got dressed, I thought about the canine ability to manipulate mere humans. Especially soft-hearted guys like Chad.
    As a distraction from my too-sentimental thoughts, I concentrated on washing my face, brushing my teeth and getting dressed. Before leaving the bathroom, I checked my reflection in the full-length mirror mounted behind the door.
    Unfortunately, my uniform didn’t look nearly as good on me as Chad’s did on him. His muscular body filled out his uniform, made him look buff and young-cop tough. Add dark glasses and a frown and he could be positively intimidating. The best I could hope for was not to look like a pudgy teenager. The color wasn’t bad—the light tan shirt and darker tan slacks were so neutral that they’d look fine on anyone. But despite the small size, the uniform was cut with a man’s body in mind—a flat-chested look that was only enhanced by my bulletproof vest. My arms seemed particularly scrawny hanging out from beneath the short sleeves.
    Cute, Chad had judged the outfit the first time he’d seen it. Especially the way my curls tumbled out from beneath the uniform’s matching ball cap. And then, because I’d been modeling for him in our bedroom and he’d always said I was irresistible when I pouted, he’d demonstrated how quickly the entire uniform and everything beneath it could be removed. After that, he’d spent a little more time—
    I shook my head, briefly scowled at my reflection and then went to stand unnoticed in the kitchen doorway.
    Chad was standing at the stove, singing a Tim McGrawtune off-key. Something about being a real bad boy, but a real good man. He was wearing my red-and-white-gingham chef’s apron over a clean uniform and was keeping time by moving his hips. He should have looked silly. In fact, he looked so sexy it made my body ache.
    Briefly, I questioned the wisdom of our open-door policy. But Chad very rarely took advantage of it. Each time, he’d been dangerously exhausted. Or briefly overwhelmed by some horror he’d encountered on the job. Offering each other a safe place to sleep and a sympathetic ear were acts of friendship. A favor that Chad willingly returned.
    I’d lost so much already. I didn’t want to lose the precious little bit of our relationship that still remained. That had been ours from childhood.
    So maybe it’s time you got your hormones under control, I scolded myself. Obviously, he’s managed it.
    I crossed the kitchen and tucked in next to him.
    “G’morning,” I murmured.
    On the stove, the percolator was chugging away, producing coffee that was stronger and hotter than any mere automatic drip coffeemaker could produce. But before lifting the pot from the burner, I touched Chad’s face, made him hold still long enough for me to get a good look at his injured cheek.
    “Good. You changed the bandage.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he retorted, flipping me a quick salute. “Got it wet in the shower, and I didn’t want to get into trouble.”
    I