Under My Skin Read online

  But it’s too late because Becky, the station’s receptionist, has already spotted me.

  “Lizzie girl!” She greets me with a wide smile, and my childhood nickname rolls off her tongue in a pleasing, Irish lilt. “Here to see your ‘da, your brother, or both? I hope it’s just your ‘da because Drew is out doing some training today.”

  I hold up a white paper bag containing my olive branch to Dad— a panini sandwich from Vittorio’s Express Lunch menu. I’ve got one in there for me too, and I’m hoping we can sit and have lunch in his office or maybe outside on the picnic tables. I think he’s eighty percent there with getting over the slap heard around the church.

  The sandwiches should help him over the twenty percent hurdle nicely because odds are Mom has packed his lunch bag with things like baby carrots, celery, and a to-furkey sandwich on sprouted bread. “It’s just Dad, Becks. I talked to Draw already last night, and he told me he wouldn’t be around today.”

  “Ahh, just you and the Chief, eh? Nothing for the handsome brute of a man who just joined the department?”

  I look around from side to side to make sure we don’t have an audience. Even the invisible walls in this town have ears. Thankfully, everyone is immersed in the bustling day to day activity of the station, and they’re not paying a whit of attention to me. Last week’s incident made the gossip rounds quickly, and I’ve already endured my fair share of ribbing—despite the fact that I’d choked out a horrified apology and bolted shortly thereafter.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say firmly, although my nervous energy has me feeling about as anxious as a whore in church.

  This is definitely a bad idea.

  Her rheumy blue eyes twinkle back at me. “Oh, come now, I’m not buying that, missy. I saw the way you two were looking at each other in church last week—before you slapped him, and even after. I can’t say I blame ‘ya. If I were just ten years younger, I’d give you a run for ‘yer money girly.” She winks conspiratorially.

  I swallow a choked laugh. Ten years younger, my ass. Becky’s the same age as my grandmother.

  “You sly cougar,” I wink back. “I’m pleading the fifth on this. And…” I tap my watch, “I’m running out of time. My shift at Jilly’s starts in an hour, so I’ve got to eat and run.”

  And see if you can get a visual fix of the gorgeous Adonis who you hate and also happens to be working for your father.

  “Mmmmhmmm,” she murmurs, eyeing me like she’s heard my shameless thoughts aloud. “You go right in, Lizzie girl. He’s in his office.”

  “Thanks, Becks.” I wave before taking off to weave through the rows of desks in the large room. Almost everyone is on the phone or talking to someone else, but a number of them spot me and send little waves in my direction. I mouth “hello” back and keep on my way until I reach Dad’s office.

  When I see his door is shut, I frown. It’s never closed, unless he’s with the mayor or he’s working on something super important. In both cases we are not to disturb him—like ever. Confused, I turn around to make my way back to Becky, but she’s already staring at me from across the way.

  She shoos her hands, “Go on,” she mouths. “It’s okay.”

  I shrug, plaster a huge smile on my face and push the door open.

  And the second I walk through the threshold, it occurs to me that it’s a good thing for the citizens of Sheffield that I’m already at the police station because I am going to be charged with aggravated assault the minute I get my hands on Becky.

  Mark

  The majority of my first meeting with Chief Connor is all business. For the first thirty minutes, he looks at me shrewdly while I ask him question after question, and mentally file away his answers. Even though I’ve known him since I was a child, I don’t know him that well. Furthermore, he doesn’t know me as a man at all. I can tell he’s wary about my ability to deliver and to be honest, I’d be suspicious if he welcomed me with open arms.

  “You going to spend the whole time asking me questions son? What are you going to do about this? I'm told you’re among the best.”

  I shift closer to his desk and lean forward, looking him straight in the eye. “With all due respect sir, I am the best.”

  It’s not arrogance.

  It’s the truth.

  “It might seem like a lot, but asking you questions is the best way for me to start my analysis. I don’t want to go into this blind, and I don’t want to make assumptions that are going to bite us in the ass later on.” I hope using the word us helps him see me as part of his team and not just an interloper. “Here’s what I think. Based on what you’ve told me with what I’ve studied on the roster, the loyalty factor has got to be high. Most of the force is long tenured, meaning they know you. They probably know your family. Maybe you invite them to your barbecues and they do the same. Your kids all go to school together. This isn’t a big town, so the community is going to feel like family--which means that your mole is someone who either hasn’t been here very long or has a motive. If it’s the latter, my guess is that they’re doing this for revenge or because they feel they have no other choice.”

  He nods slowly, and for the first time I can see his armor start to crack.

  “I know we already talked about people who might have been expecting a promotion and didn’t get it or anyone who you know of that might be in financial straits, but just because it’s not obvious doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Even if it does feel like a family, a lot of people have pride and if something’s going on, they might not want to shatter the illusion that they can’t handle their shit. I need to get close to the guys, learn about their lives and families, but I also need to look at financials, habits like gambling, alcoholism—you get the picture. I can’t guarantee this is going to be over quickly, but if you give me some time, I’ll make sure this is done right,” I promise.

  He takes a deep breath. “They’ll show you respect, but these guys aren’t easy to crack if you’re an outsider, doesn’t matter how many summers you spent here,” he warns.

  I nod. “That’s why I thought it was better for my cover to be as a rookie instead of someone who’s got experience. It’s going to help them be less defensive and on edge because they’ll assume I don’t know as much. I’ll play that angle as much as I can.”

  “And you’re sure your grandmother’s going to be able to keep her mouth shut? She has a reputation for being…chatty.” he finishes, looking a little uneasy with his choice of words.

  I laugh and look at him sympathetically. “Trust me, I know better than anyone that she’ s a busybody, but she’s more concerned with my love life than my professional one.”

  “Okay, well now that we’ve got that out of the way, I want to apologize again for the way Lizzie—”

  I hold up a hand. “Apologies for the interruption sir, but I need to stop you right there. There is absolutely no reason to apologize, Chief. You’re not—” My eyes land briefly on the framed picture of his family sitting on his desk. Liz is front and center, not smiling for the camera, but laughing. Her arms are hooked around each of her brothers, who flank her on either side. Her eyes sparkle like blue-green gemstones and a dimple dents each of her cheeks. Even though it’s a photograph, she’s alive in that picture.

  Chief clears his throat. “You were saying?”

  I cough. “Sorry about that, got lost in my train of thought for a second. Anyway, you’re not responsible for her actions. She’s her own person, and I did egg her on a bit. Plus, she’s a tiny thing. The slap barely felt like a pinch,” I assure him.

  “She slapped you in church, son,” he grits out. His pulse is jumping at his neck, and his cheeks are ruddy with color at the memory.

  I give him a sheepish smile. “I probably had it coming. Besides, Father D will probably give her a thousand Hail Mary’s. Don’t worry. I’m not put out about it. Honestly, the whole thing is kind of funny.”

  And it is.

  It’s hysterical.

/>   I’m a big guy, so the thought of someone so tiny thinking they could take me down is pretty funny. Especially when that someone is Liz Connor who happens to have the sickest body I’ve ever seen.

  Jesus, I’m in trouble.

  Chief is back to looking at me shrewdly once more, but this time, it’s different. I don’t want to think on it too much, but right when I’m about to change the subject, the door to his office swings open.

  I’m still sitting across from Chief Connor, facing him, so I can’t see the doorway, but I can smell her. Sweet, creamy, warm, and with a touch of spice, it reminds me of honeysuckle, but it’s also a little different. It’s a scent all her own.

  I can’t help it. I turn around, and my blood goes from warm to hot in seconds. She’s got on jean shorts that end right above the middle of her shapely thighs, and I suspect her t-shirt either shrank in the wash or is purposefully a size too small because of the way it stretches across her breasts.

  My mouth goes dry.

  She’s definitely not stuffing with tissue anymore.

  Her flip-flops expose cherry red toenails, and one of her ankles has a thin gold chain looped around it.

  I want to trace my tongue around it.

  “Hi! I brought you a panini for lunch, Pops.”

  My attention moves back to her face, where she’s beaming and the dimples are out in full devastating force. Something sweet and warm, something I haven’t felt before, expands in my chest as I drink in the pretty picture she presents.

  Too bad I don’t have the same effect on her.

  The instant she notices I’m in the room, her smile fades and her blue-green eyes ice over. “Mark,” she says stiffly, taking great interest in the portrait hanging above her father’s head.

  Thankfully, her father appears to be oblivious to the tension in his office. “A panini?” he repeats. “One with breaded chicken and mozzarella?”

  She softens when she responds to him. This time, her smile is smaller, but those damned dimples are still out. “With marinara sauce and fresh basil,” she confirms. “Vittorio’s.”

  He looks at her warily. “You’re not going to tell your mom?”

  She pinches her index finger and thumb together, silently zips her lips, and throws away the key.

  “Eh, Officer Daniels, I think we’re done here. Are you okay if we meet later?”

  I push back my chair and stand. “Sure Chief. I’ll get to working on what we talked about, and we can meet at the beginning of next week to go over my progress. If something happens that’s important before then, I’ll pull you aside and brief you.”

  “Sure, sure,” he mutters. He’s barely even paying attention, his eyes are riveted on the bag his daughter’s holding.

  She’s still busy shooting me dirty looks from the doorway, standing there in her sexy short shorts and tight tee.

  Jesus.

  She makes her way in as I make my way out, and it’s all I can do not to brush against her body. There’s something heavy in the air, something that makes me want to pull her in my arms and take my time kissing her sexy mouth, so I can explore every angle until I’ve got the blueprint memorized.

  But her father’s in the room.

  I try to think of NBA rankings, the World Series, the upcoming college football season—anything but her, but it’s wasted effort. Even though I try to physically keep my distance, when our paths intersect, she leans in close to me. I hold my breath because I’m scared that even the most fractional movement is going to cause one of her precariously close, perfect tits to brush against my arm, and for fuck’s sake that can’t happen because her dad’s in the room.

  But she leans even closer, and it does happen. Sparks fly along my skin and I inhale sharply. It’s like I’m starved for her scent. When it sinks in that she’s said “I’m sorry about last week,” I grunt because it’s impossible to form words.

  I’m only able to resume coherency once I’ve left Chief’s office and shut the door behind me. Then, the words form in my brain with stunning accuracy.

  Yeah Daniels, you’re definitely fucked.

  Liz

  “Do you think my ass is getting bigger?” I ask Sophie.

  She pauses in the middle of biting into a granola bar and delicately extracts the snack from her mouth.

  “Is this a trick question?” she asks cautiously.

  I finish tying my shoelaces and sit upright next to her on the bench so I can check to see if we have an audience. In this town, inquiring ears always want to know, and after the incident, the last thing I want to do is add fuel to the fire. Luckily, the others are all on the baseball diamond, putzing around until our kickball game starts. “How the hell can it be a trick question Soph?”

  “Well, do you want your ass to get bigger?”

  I stare at her. “Um, no!” My ass is already a healthy size.

  Well, okay, it’s more than healthy if I’m being truthful, but if it gets any larger, I’m going to need to move out of our apartment and onto the Stairmaster— permanently. Lately my pants have been getting tighter around my tush, and I refuse to let my hourglass melt into a pear.

  Sophie looks at me. “Stand up.”

  I do.

  “Turn around.”

  I show her my rear, and she’s silent for a few moments.

  No more croissants or muffins from Jilly’s! No more carbs.

  “Hmmmm,” she hums contemplatively. “I don’t think so babe. It looks the same to me.”

  “Good answer,” I sigh, plunking myself down on the bench next to her. “Ever since I smacked that uncouth ruffian, I’ve been eating at least two more pastries than usual during my shifts at Jilly’s. I think I’m stressed out. Did I tell you that Adam Murray stood in my line, not to order coffee or anything, but to hand me a bag of popcorn and tell me it was my MTV VMA award for Best Fight Scene? Jerkoff.”

  “Yes,” she rolls her eyes. “This is the fourth time you’ve mentioned it.”

  “Well that should tell you how peeved I still am,” I huff. “Honestly, it’s been two weeks. There has to be something else more newsworthy going on in town.”

  She’s about to respond when her eyes leave my face to focus on something behind me. “Uh oh,” she breathes.

  The “huh?” leaves my mouth at the same time as I turn my head to see what’s got her attention.

  Or in this case, who.

  My brother Drew is walking over to us with a shit-eating grin on his face. There’s nothing unusual about this, and normally, I’d expect such glee from him because his team is playing mine in the intramural league tonight. His overinflated ego probably has him thinking that his team of muscular buffoons will decimate mine.

  But no, not tonight.

  Tonight, he’s kicked our friendly sibling rivalry up a notch because striding towards us with Drew is Mark Daniels.

  Fratricide should be first and foremost in my mind, but it’s heavily outweighed by my hormones, which kick up their legs like Vegas show girls at the sight of him. It was bad enough reining them in when we ran into each other at the station, but they’re unbridled and free right now. Completely uncontrollable because he’s wearing low slung basketball shorts that show off well-formed, muscular calves and a white wifebeater which exposes golden skin stretched across biceps that make my mouth go dry.

  Is there a body part on this man that doesn’t get me excited? At this rate, I’m likely to cream my panties at the sight of his right pinky toe.

  Mark and Drew stand before us in no time. My brother’s still got his stupid shit-eating grin on his face, but Mark’s not smiling at all. His eyes are heated as they travel from the tips of my pink sneakers up along the length of my body all the way to the rim of the baseball cap I’ve got pulled over my ponytail.

  I really hope Sophie isn’t losing her sense of visual perspective and my ass doesn’t look huge right now. What the hell is he doing here?

  “What are you doing here?” I blurt out.

  He looks at me
with warm, amused eyes. In response, tingles of electricity zip back and forth from the center of my chest to my nether regions. It’s like my body’s a ping-pong table. I wish there was just something, just one thing, like a hairy wart on his nose, to help dampen my physical ardor.

  “I’m scared to answer, Lizzie. You going to smack us if you don’t like our answer?” Drew smirks.

  I scowl at my brother. “Don’t mess with me Drew boy,” I threaten.

  “Oh, I’m so scared, I’m shivering with fear,” he taunts.

  “You should be.”

  “Ahh, but a smack would be worth it. So fun to watch you get all riled up.”

  I know this is his angle. I love my older brother dearly, and I know he feels the same for me, but he also thinks I was put on this earth to be tortured by him.

  I casually glance down my watch. Five more minutes until our game starts. I pull my cap down so it feels a little more secure.

  It’s all a ruse because I need him to think I’ve backed down before I go in for the kill.

  “Drew, Marcy Chang mentioned you asked her out on a date,” I say amiably.

  Now he looks worried.

  Good.

  “So?” he asks sullenly. “What’s that got to do with you?”

  “Oh, well you know, it just so happens she goes to the same yoga class as Sophie and I do. It would be a shame if I were to discuss my poor brother’s raging herpes infection and how I worry about how it will affect his dating life while we were getting changed in the locker room, huh? Even more of a shame if Marcy were to overhear it?”

  My brother’s face turns the same gorgeous shade of red as a freshly boiled lobster. In fact, he’s so red it might be scientifically possible that he goes from blonde to ginger. He looks anxiously from Sophie to Mark and then back at me. “I don’t have herpes,” he grits out.

  I raise my eyebrows and look at him innocently. “Oh, you don’t? Well, I’m getting so forgetful these days and who knows what state my brain will be in after hanging upside down during downward dog. Marcy’s a complete germaphobe too,” I add for good measure. “She carries around hand sanitizer in her bag, and it’s not the travel size.”