Free Borrowing Trouble by Stacy Finz Page A

smiled at her and she could’ve sworn that her heart skipped a beat.
    â€œI’ve seen worse. Hopefully we’ll find more. All we’ve got is a torso. We think the person was an adult.” She moved the wine to make room for the salad bowl he put on the table. “What did you do today?”
    â€œMet with Cecilia Rodriguez to finalize the menu for the reception. You going?”
    Everyone knew that Sloane had worked with Jake at LAPD and that he’d brought her here for the job. “Yep. I’m looking forward to getting dressed up and dancing.”
    He shot her another one of his amazing smiles. “It’ll be a good wedding. They’re nice people.”
    â€œI’ve only met Cecilia a couple of times, but I like her a lot. I met Jake’s ex number three once or twice. Her, not so much.” Then again, Jake had been a dog back in those days.
    Sloane was still on patrol when Jake was with the department. They met at the scene of a triple homicide. As the responding officer she was eager to help, doing any scut work the investigators needed. Jake, the lead detective, must’ve sensed her ambition because he let her stay involved in the case long after most patrol officers returned to the field. A few of the guys said he was probably trying to get in her pants. But Jake had always treated her with the utmost respect. Sloane suspected that she reminded him of his daughters. Besides, she got the feeling that he only catted around with women outside the department: police groupies who hung out at the bar where the RHD guys drank, hoping to get lucky. Some called them holster sniffers.
    Jake had been the one to encourage her to take the detective test. And he’d been the one to back her when she’d called him in a panic and told him how the department had turned on her.
    â€œWill you have to work the entire party?” she asked Brady, hoping that she might get a chance to dance with him. Feel those strong arms around her.
    â€œPretty much,” he said, and ladled the soup into two bowls and pulled the bread out of the oven, serving Sloane first and then himself. “You want butter for that?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, just pulled a crock from the refrigerator.
    She waited for him to sit, gave them each a big portion of salad, and dug in. The soup was extraordinary—maybe the best she’d ever eaten. “Is that bacon in there?”
    â€œYep.” He poured the wine, cut a slab of bread and put it on her plate. “Try that.”
    She spread butter on the slice, took a bite, and closed her eyes. “Holy cow, that’s good.”
    â€œI baked it this morning before I went to work.”
    She must’ve slept through it. Ordinarily she could hear him moving around and smell his coffee brewing. Thin walls. “You’d make a great husband.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
    â€œI don’t think so,” he said like it was a matter of fact.
    Since she started it . . . “Why not?”
    â€œJust not a settling-down kind of guy. I get itchy when I’m in a place or with a woman too long. How ’bout you?”
    â€œIf I found the right guy. Not a cop, that’s for sure. You’d be surprised, though, how many civilian men have a problem with what I do.”
    â€œNo I wouldn’t be surprised.”
    â€œDon’t tell me you’d have a problem with it.”
    â€œI don’t know, since it’s not an issue for me. But I can see why a man would worry about his woman. It’s a dangerous job.”
    â€œBut a woman shouldn’t worry about her man being a cop?”
    â€œI didn’t say that. What I said is it’s a dangerous job. For either sex. You ever have any close calls?”
    â€œOnce.” But it shouldn’t have been a close call. It wouldn’t have been if her own guys hadn’t been gunning for her.
    â€œWhat