homemade sandwiches and bottled water to a throng of homeless people at lunchtime. Her floral wrap dress and high heels had been a stunning contrast to the dirty and disheveled men and women in her care. If memory served him, she’d called several of the people by their names.
He set the frame on the fireplace mantel, feeling much better about leaving West at the docks.
“Here she is!” A voice called from the lawn. “She’s okay!”
Cole turned on his heel and went to save the day.
“Miss Horn?” He strode in the direction of a rusty yellow car. “I’m Deputy Cole Garrett. Can you please park your vehicle?”
She nodded behind the driver’s-side window.
Her white-knuckle grip and wide eyes worried him. Current circumstances aside, Rita was the poster child for calm and centered. He’d started noticing her every time he made a trip to the courts after that day in the alley. Unfortunately, they’d never made eye contact, and unlike most women in town, she didn’t seem to know he existed.
The car rolled slowly to the curb and idled several moments before the engine settled.
She got out, closed the door and moved cautiously in Cole’s direction. “What’s going on?” Her gaze darted nervously over the scene, catching on his cruiser, then the patch on his jacket.
A gray-haired woman popped up at her side. “I was scared when you didn’t answer the phone. Your office said you’d left, but you didn’t answer.”
“I’m sorry, Doris.” Rita soothed the elderly woman. “I wasn’t feeling well. I’m not myself today.”
“I just thank my stars you weren’t home when this happened,” Doris said.
“What happened, exactly?” Rita asked again, moving her attention to Cole.
“Your neighbors reported a possible break-in about thirty minutes ago. When did you say you left the municipal building?”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know I was at the municipal building?”
Cole put on his most charming smile, hoping to soothe the sudden alarm in her tone. “I’ve seen you there.”
Her cheeks darkened, but she didn’t comment.
It was none of his business, but Rita Horn didn’t look sick. In fact, she looked fantastic. Her skirt and blouse fit in all the right places, accentuating her curves without giving away the details.
Man, he would love to know her details.
She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing the silky material of her blouse tighter.
Dear Lord.
“I went in early.”
Cole swept a hand toward her front door and forced his gaze there, as well. “Would you like to see if anything is missing?” He moved onto the stoop, hoping she’d follow. Honestly, she looked like she might get back in her car and flee. “Any chance you forgot to lock the door this morning?”
“No.” Her sweet voice sounded behind him. “I even double-checked the knob.”
He angled himself for a look at her. “Do you always double-check or was something different today?”
She pursed her lips.
Cole imagined kissing them apart.
He leaned against the handrail to her porch, allowing her to pass. “I can’t help thinking about the fact there hasn’t been trouble like this in your neighborhood for quite some time, and it happened on a day when you got sick and left work early. Also on a day you felt compelled to double-check your lock.”
“Maybe you’re reading too much into this.”
He shrugged. “That’s possible. It’s certainly a side effect of the job.”
Rita slid past him into her home, and a zip of electricity snapped over his skin. “Can you think of anyone who might’ve done something like this, Miss Horn?”
She swept long auburn locks over her shoulder and bundled the strands in one fist. “No.” She lowered her arms to lock around her middle. “You can call me Rita.”
COLE UNZIPPED THE black duffel he’d left by the door.
“What are you doing?” The fear in her voice startled him.
He raised his palms in a show of innocence. “I’m going to dust the knob and jamb for fingerprints. Maybe replace this old dead bolt.”
She lifted a finger. “Can I see what’s in the bag?”
Cole felt his forehead pucker as he stretched the duffel wide for her inspection.
“Okay.” Her face flushed with the words. “I don’t use the dead bolt. It sticks.”
“Care if I put the new one on before I go? It won’t stop a professional from getting inside, but it’ll slow one down, and in this neighborhood, time is your friend. I have a feeling those people on your lawn don’t miss much.”
Her lips turned down slightly. “You just happen to have a spare dead bolt with you?”
“No. I’ve been planning to change mine for months but haven’t gotten around to it.”
She seemed to mull that over. “Can you leave the door open while you work?”
“Sure.” He applied the dusting powder to her knob and jamb. “You sure you can’t think of anyone who’d want to get in here?”
“Like who?” Rita lifted a fancy pillow from the floor and clutched it to her chest.
Cole split his attention between her and his work. “I don’t know. Maybe a rival or an ex. Maybe a lover’s significant other?”
Her shocked expression turned to disgust. “That’s awful.” She dropped the pillow onto her couch and lined it up with the others. Delicate stitching over a tiny yellow flower formed the words Suck it up Buttercup.
Cole smiled.
She frowned. “I don’t have any rivals or lunatic exes, and I certainly don’t get involved with men who have significant others.” She threw his final words back at him. “What kind of women do you normally deal with, Deputy Garrett?”
He smiled at the pleasant sound of his name on her tongue. “You can call me Cole.” He stretched to his feet and extended a hand her way.
She eyeballed his hand. “I recognize you from the courthouse.”
A smile spread over his lips. “Is that right?”
Rita blushed and slid her thin hand into his. “Can I make you some coffee?”
“That’d be nice.” He turned back to the door with a rush of satisfaction.
Rita righted furniture and photos while Cole finished his work on her door and the coffee brewed. The small, inviting space was magazine perfect when he packed up his things. The overall result was very sexy librarian. Claw-footed furniture, books by the boatload and more fancy pillows with goofy sayings like Hot Mess, Sassy, and Hell to the No.
Cole shook his head. “You might want to think about getting a new knob, too. Maybe something with a code.”
“Sure.” She rolled the vacuum into view, then wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. “Coffee should be ready.”
“Care if I shut the door and test the lock?”
“No. It’s fine.” She returned a moment later with two fragile-looking cups and set them on the coffee table. “Do you take cream or sugar?”
Cole laughed. “No, but thanks.” He made a show of testing the door’s integrity and admiring his personal handyman skills.