Page 9 of Sergeant's Christmas Siege

Maybe Templeton would have continued to nobly ignore that urge to put his hands on hers, because that was the smart thing to do. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t have, because he’d made a career out of thinking outside arbitrary lines—if not usually the ones he drew himself. But it didn’t matter either way because Caradine was there at the table, scowling, like the prickly little black cloud she was.

Templeton knew of only one man who wanted to get his hands in all that rain. But then, Isaac had always been a breed apart.

“Fog’s coming in fast,” Caradine said flatly. “Doesn’t look like either one of you is leaving Grizzly Harbor tonight. And don’t think I’m cooking dinner for you.”

Templeton only shrugged. Caradine stomped off, likely to work on that thunderous scowl, and he watched his new favorite trooper fuss around with her phone.

“If the fog’s bad, you shouldn’t fly in it.” He smiled when she frowned at him. “No worries. We can find you somewhere to stay.”

“I can find my own accommodations, thank you.”

“I’m sure you can, but Alaska Force keeps a room ready for clients at the Blue Bear Inn. It’s empty right now. You’re welcome to it tonight.”

He told himself there was no reason why his skin felt tight the longer she looked at him.

“Thank you,” she said, nothing in her voice betraying the slightest hint of emotion. Or reaction. As if he’d made up that flush of heat on her cheeks when he knew he hadn’t. “I may have to take you up on that offer.”

“Just promise me you won’t try to outfly the fog,” he said, as if they were buddies. “That tends to end badly.”

“Your concern for my well-being is touching,” Kate replied, evenly enough. But he could tell she didn’t find it touching at all. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She stood up, taking her phone with her as she headed toward the back of the café, where there was a bathroom—and privacy.

Templeton stayed where he was, lounging at the table until she disappeared. Then he fished out his own mobile and called in.

“Report,” Isaac said when he picked up.

“Nothing to report,” Templeton replied. “Looks like I might be fogged in here tonight. Can’t say whether that will help or hinder the investigation.”

“And Alaska Force is the target of that investigation? Or is this a fishing expedition?”

“You have two choices, Isaac. The right one or the wrong one. It’s that simple.”

“Great.” Isaac sighed. “One of those.”

“The trooper has put in a request to visit the heavilyarmed fortress that is Fool’s Cove,” Templeton said. “Assuming we get a break in the fog tomorrow, I’ll bring her out.”

“Do you have a sense of what she’s looking for?”

“Aside from a scapegoat? No.”

“Maybe try charming her, Templeton. If you think you can manage it.”

Templeton made a genial, anatomically impossible suggestion, which only made his friend laugh.

And he was sliding his phone back into his pocket when his own personal trooper emerged from the back of the café, her uniform looking even more crisp than it had when she’d gone back there. Armor, he thought.

He liked the fact that she thought she needed it around him.

And he ignored the alarm that sounded deep within him. Because enjoying something wasn’t the same as breaking his own rules.

“Visibility is deteriorating by the moment,” Kate said briskly. “It looks like I’ll be utilizing that room after all.”

“Fantastic. I’ll just—”

“I don’t need anything further from you, Mr. Cross,” she said in that smooth, certain cop way that he definitely shouldn’t find so... stirring. “I can handle things from here. What I’d like you to do is use this evening to reflect on the things we talked about and see if you can find your way to a different conclusion.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Templeton drawled. “I get real reflective down at the Fairweather. By the third drink, I’m practically a philosopher.”

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