Chapter 7

Wyatt had slept for two hours of the last thirty-six. So when Norma entered his office in the late afternoon with a cup of coffee and his favorite cream cheese Danish from a hole-in-the-wall bakery, he almost growled at her.

“You never come bearing afternoon snacks unless you want something,” he said, taking the coffee but refusing to take a sip. The scent of it had his mouth watering though, and he had a killer headache he knew the caffeine would tame.

“Now, Wyatt,” she said sitting down and leaning back in her chair. “We’ve talked about this one before.”

“Is it related to the possible shooting?”

“Nope.”

He took a sip of the coffee, the hot liquid calming him instantly. “All right. Shoot.”

“It’s the department holiday party.”

Wyatt glared at her deliberately and picked up the pastry. “Go on.”

“You won’t have to do anything,” she said with a smile. “I hired a party planner this year.”

“Do we have a budget for that?”

“Yes,” Norma said simply. “And she’ll take care of everything for the party. And I’ll take care of her.” She removed a piece of paper from her skirt pocket and smoothed it against her leg while Wyatt took a bite of his snack.

He moaned as the flaky pastry and sweet cream cheese filled his mouth. Norma simply smiled at him, and Wyatt realized he wasn’t out of the woods yet. And he’d accepted her gifts already.

“I just need you to sign this,” she said. “And then you should go home. There’s nothing else to do today anyway. Feed Tigger and go to bed.”

Going to bed sounded fantastic, and Wyatt would do what his secretary said. Norma had never led him astray, and she put the paper on his desk. He didn’t reach for it but continued to eat.

“Did you want to see your schedule too?” she asked. “I just remembered.” She jumped to her feet and started for the door before he could protest. Yes, he’d asked her for his schedule so he could set something up with Deirdre. But he’d had more time to think about it, and perhaps their relationship just wasn’t in the cards. Perhaps fate had other plans for Wyatt. He wished his heart would get memos from fate, though, as it would save him some embarrassment and frustration.

He pulled the budget approval form toward him and read the top. One thousand dollars to Your Tidal Forever. His heart started pounding. Deirdre worked for Your Tidal Forever, and Wyatt thought they just did weddings.

Norma re-entered the office, her huge planner in her hands. “All right,” she said.

“Your Tidal Forever?” he asked.

She glanced up, surprise in her hazel eyes. “What?”

He held up the budget request form. “I thought Your Tidal Forever planned weddings.” He knew they did. He’d hired them to plan Jennifer’s wedding, and they’d done an amazing job.

“Oh.” Norma’s voice sounded false as she sat down and balanced her date book on her knees. “They do. But they do other things too. Anniversary parties. Receptions. And company parties.”

Wyatt looked down at the paper again. “Who’s doing the department party?”

“Um, let’s see,” Norma said. “You have Friday night open for a dinner appointment.”

Wyatt glanced up, only catching sight of the top of Norma’s head because she was studying her book. “Norma,” he said, and he waited until she looked at him. “Who’s doing the department party from Your Tidal Forever?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Norma said, swallowing. Wyatt knew then that something was definitely afoot. “You’re not going to be working with them. I am.” She held up her book. “Friday night? Dinner with Deirdre?”

“I thought I had that dinner with the commissioner on Friday.”

“That’s next Friday. This Friday is open.”

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll call her.” He reached for his phone, intending to ask her about a lot more than dinner on Friday. After all, there could only be one reason Norma didn’t want to tell him who she was working with for the party.

The call went to voicemail, and he said, “Hey, Deirdre, it’s Wyatt.” He paused as if she were on the line, because Norma wouldn’t know. “Quick question: Do you know who’s doing the department party for us?”

Norma lunged forward and reached for his phone. He let her take it, a chuckle starting down inside his chest.

“Deirdre, I didn’t tell him, I swe—” She pulled the phone away from her ear. “She’s not there.” She tapped to end the call, practically slamming his phone on the desk in the next moment. “You little sneak.”

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “So Deirdre is planning the department party.”

“Yes.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” Wyatt’s adrenaline, combined with the coffee, really had his cells buzzing. Deirdre was planning the department party. That meant he’d get to see her more often, while he worked.

“She asked me not to.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She didn’t want your relationship—” His phone rang, and she reached for it instead of finishing her explanation. “It’s her.”

Wyatt gestured for her to take the call. “By all means. Explain everything to her. She’s probably confused about that message.”

“Deirdre,” Norma said, her professional tone hitched in place. “It’s Norma, dear. Yes, he’s right here…yes, he knows.” Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Yes, all right.” She held the phone out to him. “She’d like to speak to you.”

“It is my phone.” He reached for it and gave Norma a knowing look as he put the phone to his ear. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” Deirdre asked. “Okay, never mind. Look, I just need to know if you’re okay with me working with Norma on the department party or not.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with that?”

“I…don’t know.”

“Would you like to go to dinner on Friday?” he asked.

Deirdre remained silent for several long moments. “Wyatt, I’m confused.”

“Why didn’t you want to tell me you were planning the party? Norma said you asked her not to tell me.”

“Because.” She sighed. “I didn’t want our relationship to be professional.”

A smile filled his whole face, and Norma grinned too. “So dinner on Friday would work for you.” He lifted his eyebrows, and Norma glanced down at the date book, nodding.

“Yes,” Deirdre said.

“I can’t guarantee that there won’t be a shooting or something,” he said. “But I’m really hoping to make it this time.”

“Me too, Wyatt. I have food for you, and I’m leaving the office now to meet with a client at a reception center. Is now a good time to drop by?”

Wyatt scanned his desk, which held an assortment of candy wrappers and old coffee mugs. “Yes,” he said. “Now is a great time to drop by.” He stood up and picked up one of the old cups, dropping it in the trash can. Norma did the same, sweeping the wrappers into her hand all at once.

“Great,” Deirdre said. “I’ll see you in a few.”

Wyatt put his phone down so he could use both hands to clean up his desk. “Does it smell bad in here?”

“Yes,” Norma said. “I’ll grab the air freshener.”

He looked up at her. “Can you leave me a couple weeks’ worth of appointments, so I can see what else I have coming up?”

Norma grinned at him the way a wolf would grin at its next meal. “You really like this woman, don’t you?”

Wyatt stacked his folders. “Was that not obvious from the way I’ve just cleaned up my desk?”

Norma burst out laughing, and she moved toward the door. “I’ll call a maid service for your house too, as you have Saturday free as well, and who knows? Maybe you’d like to introduce Deirdre to Tigger.” With that, she left the office, and Wyatt looked down, trying to remember what he’d been working on when she’d come into his office fifteen minutes ago.

His brain felt like mush, and he decided he’d get the food from Deirdre, solidify their plans for Friday night, and head home to sleep.

While he waited, he went through his email, one of his most dreaded chores. He’d answered a few and deleted countless others before Deirdre walked in, the words, “Good afternoon, Wyatt,” dripping from that pretty mouth.

“Deirdre,” he said, practically overturning his desk in his haste to stand up. His knee cracked on the bottom of the desk, and he almost swore. He managed to keep calm as he rounded his desk and took the paper bag of food from her.

She wore an expensive pair of black slacks with a yellow and orange striped blouse, along with a hint of teasing in those electric blue eyes. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders in easy waves, and Wyatt wanted to run his fingers through it.

He hadn’t kissed her last time they’d dated, as he’d been terrified of cheating on his wife. Everything about last time he and Deirdre tried a relationship embarrassed him, and he hoped she had a bad memory.

But he knew she didn’t. The woman was sharp and smart and sexy, and Wyatt had liked her from the moment he’d met her, months and months ago.

“Thank you,” he finally remembered to say. “I’m sure this will be delicious. I remember you being a good cook.”

“I don’t remember you ever eating anything I’ve made,” she said, smiling at him. Maybe he’d just caught her at a bad time on Friday, because she seemed open and receptive to him now.

“Maybe I haven’t,” he said. “But it’ll be better than anything I could’ve ordered tonight.”

“Oh, come on,” she said with a laugh. “That’s not true. Even the chicken sandwiches from Poultry Palace are better than what you’re holding.”

Wyatt’s stomach growled at the thought of a crispy chicken sandwich and fries for dinner. “Do you have time for dinner tonight?”

“I’m meeting a client,” she said, stepping closer to him. She reached out and put her hand on his bicep. “But I’m available Friday, if it’s a bit later. I have a wedding all day Saturday, and I usually have some last-minute emergency to take care of that keeps me late on Friday.” She watched him with those eyes, and while they were bright and electric, Wyatt would also classify them as soulful.

“Later is fine,” he said through a narrow throat.

“Let’s plan on eight,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I worked that late.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll pick you up, and you’ll tell me where you want to go.”

“Deal,” she said, stepping even closer. So close, Wyatt had to drop his chin to keep eye contact. “I hope it works out this time, Wyatt.”

“Me too,” he murmured. He would make sure it worked out. How, he didn’t know, but he’d do everything in his power to be available at eight p.m. on Friday night.

Deirdre lifted onto her toes and swept her lips across his cheek. “See you then.” She turned and left his office while Wyatt stared after her. Numb, he lifted his fingers to where her mouth had burned him, in complete wonder at this woman.

No, he was in complete awe about his feelings for this woman. He’d been so in love with Christine, and they’d been married for twenty years before he’d lost her. He’d never looked at another woman and never been tempted away from his wife.

For years after her death, he hadn’t even known how he felt—happy, sad, mad, frustrated, satisfied. Nothing. He’d simply disappeared emotionally. Sometimes mentally, too. Sometimes he’d find himself staring at a file, and he had no idea how long he’d been doing it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d showered. That kind of thing.

Slowly, with the help of his officers, his friends, his daughter, and his grief meetings, Wyatt had pulled himself back into some semblance of a human being.

He dropped his hand, grabbed his laptop from his desk, and followed Deirdre out the door. “Norma,” he said, stopping by her desk. “Please don’t call me unless it’s a major emergency.”

“You got it, Chief.”

“Remind me what the major emergencies are.”

“Major crime—shooting, bombing, smuggling. Officer down. Or your mother calling.” She beamed up at him, and Wyatt nodded.

“Have a good night, Norma.”

“You too, Chief.”

Wyatt planned to simply eat and collapse into bed, his thoughts revolving around the beautiful Deirdre Bernard.