Free After Midnight by Merline Lovelace

daughter had stretched out on a grassy bank to listen to the songs of a by-gone era. The concert had ended with a rousing rendition of Dixie enthusiastically chorused by all listeners.
    That was the last Sunday Helen and her daughter had spent in Florida, or in the South. Blanking the humiliating events that followed from her mind, Jess lifted her glass and sipped the fruity white wine.
    “Enjoyin’ the view, cuh-nul.”
    The curvaceous blonde who joined her wore a cheerful smile and a nametag that identified her as Maggie Calhoun, wife of State Senator Dub Calhoun.
    “Yes, I am.”
    Jess had met her in the receiving line earlier and couldn’t quite decide whether the woman’s effervescence was a factor of her own personality or her husband’s political ambitions. Jess had already heard the rumors that smooth, handsome Dub Calhoun intended to follow in the footsteps of his father, once one of Florida’s most colorful and powerful U.S. Representatives. Jess didn’t doubt for a moment that this stunning blonde draped in a sheath of flame-colored silk would prove a decided asset to Dubba’s career.
    “I’ve lived here most all my life,” the politician’s wife confided, “and never do get tired of seein’ the Circle lit up like this. It’s quite a sight. Oh, my stars,” she murmured, her glance snagging on something just over Jess’s shoulder. “So is that.”
    Jess angled around to follow the woman’s admiring gaze. The sight of a tall, tanned figure in a full dress uniform had her breath hissing out.
    It was the first time she’d seen Paxton wearing the accoutrements of his trade. He didn’t wear them often, she guessed. Probably only on formal occasions – weddings, funerals, command performances like this one. The forest green jacket and gray trousers with their green stripe down the sides were tailored with military precision. A black leather Sam Browne belt polished to a glassy sheen crossed one shoulder and circled his waist. But it was the silver eagles on the collar points of his white shirt that grabbed her attention.
    She was well aware that most civilian law enforcement agencies employed the same rank structure as the military. Lieutenants headed flights, captains ran branches, majors managed departments. County sheriffs and chiefs of police in large cities were the equivalent of full colonels and wore the silver eagles denoting their exalted status.
    Although she was forced to respect the responsibility that went with those eagles, the visual reminder that Paxton outranked her set Jess’s teeth on edge.
    Maggie Calhoun’s admiring gaze lingered on the sheriff for some moments before she lifted her glass and sipped the chilled wine through lips glossed a pale pink. “I swear, sometimes there are distinct disadvantages to being a married woman.”
    Jess made no comment as the politician’s wife took another delicate, cat-like sip.
    “I gather from what I read in your bio that you’re not similarly afflicted.”
    “No, I’m not married.”
    “Have you met our handsome sheriff yet? I’d be happy to introduce you.
    “Yes, I have.”
    Something in her reply must have alerted Ms. Calhoun to the fact that Jess harbored no desire to join the ranks of Steve Paxton’s admirers. The blonde indulged in a few more moments of small talk before drifting over to join the sheriff. Tilting her head back, she laughed at whatever he said in greeting and tucked a casual hand into the crook of his elbow.
    They made a striking pair, Jess decided objectively. Both tanned and tawny gold, they could have been carved from the same gleaming marble. More to the point, the senator’s wife obviously enjoyed Paxton’s company. So Jess wasn’t the only one he surprised when he disengaged a few moments later and headed across the porch. For a second or two, Maggie Calhoun looked almost waspish.
    “I’ve been working my way through the crowd to you,” he said when he reached her side.
    “Have you?” she