Strategically Wed Read online

  Despite his growing questions about why Maggie had left her father and the department, Griff couldn’t quit thinking about Maggie’s sweet curves, and her soft, soft skin.

  Baiting her had become a matter of survival and sanity.

  He feared he’d developed a fatal fascination with one Maggie Bennington.

  Chapter 8

  Maggie didn’t realize she was running until she reached the dock. She stopped at the water’s edge and tried to catch her breath.

  Her hands came up to her face and she felt the blushing warmth. Lord, what had she been thinking in agreeing to hide out in the small cabin with Griff?

  Danger had been a part of her life for as long as she remembered.

  But handling a gun or facing an inner city gang were not nearly as perilous as living in the close proximity of Griff Murdock.

  It didn’t matter if he had a pair of ears that didn’t match, or was handicapped by a broken leg and an injured shoulder. He oozed sex appeal.

  Maggie had had few relationships over the course of the years. Every relationship had been patterned after the one she’d had with her only parent. The men she’d dated had been every bit as self-absorbed as her father had been. She fell for men who were inaccessible to her emotionally. When she finally admitted she was a breathing cliché, she quit. She dated here and there. But she didn’t look for attachments. She was finally on the brink of living life on her own terms.

  If for that reason and none other, she’d never get involved with Griff Murdock, she reminded herself.

  She wasn’t ashamed to use the memory of her father as a wedge between her and Griff. Her father owed her that shield.

  Now, if she could only superimpose that logic over her senses. Her fingers still tingled from the touch of Griff’s skin.

  Damn him! An injured man shouldn’t be so sexy, so male.

  She tried to force his image from her mind and concentrate on the scene in front of her.

  This part of Wisconsin radiated beauty no matter what time of year.

  The overripe colors of summer were starting to give way to the vibrant hues of autumn. There would be another healthy surge of tourists during the weekends ahead to view the leaf change. And when the trees were bare and the snow fell, there would be people pursuing the winter sports: blazing new trails with their cross-country skis or revving up their snowmobiles.

  Normally, she’d count her blessings that she was here between seasons after the summer residents had hightailed it back to Chicago, leaving peace and privacy in their wake.

  But the peace and privacy were exactly what she didn’t need right now.

  Her thoughts circled back to the man she’d left in the cabin.

  Griff was considered a catch by some. Those broad shoulders made women think of strength and faithfulness. But she, of all people, knew appearances could be very deceiving.

  The first time she’d ever met him, he’d been a rookie. Her father hadn’t been eager for such a young partner. But within a week of the pairing, whatever reservations BJ had disappeared.

  Maggie found herself alone again and again, competing with her father’s jobs and ultimately with Griff for attention. Not even when she’d finally joined the Pendleton Police Department had their relationship changed.

  “We should stick together.”

  The sound of Griff’s voice made Maggie jump. She spun around to find Griff ten yards away from her. “How did you get down here?” she asked, flinching at the stupidity of her question. “You shouldn’t be walking on that leg.”

  “The exercise will help it heal faster. Did you find the fishing pole?”

  She shook her head. “I hadn’t gotten that far.”

  Griff gazed over her shoulder at the small lake. A narrow wooden dock jutted twenty feet across the water. “I never realized Wylie had this place.”

  “His parents left him a little nest egg when they died, so he bought the cabin. It was his true escape from the job. Very few people know about this place or his connection to it.”

  “It’s amazing he ever leaves.”

  “He keeps talking about retiring, but I don’t think he can turn his back on the job entirely.”

  “Maybe you should consider opening your shop around here.”

  She could feel the wistful smile tug at her mouth. “I’d love to, but the retail trade fades out during the winter. Most of the shops are only open during the summer season. They close in the late fall.”

  “It’s a tough way to do business.”

  “Yeah.”

  For a brief moment they stood together looking at the scenic landscape. But for Maggie the tranquility had slipped away with Griff’s sudden appearance.

  She pointed to the makeshift shed that sat near the edge of the tree line. “Wylie stores his fishing equipment in there.”

  Without waiting for his response, she hiked the short distance to the small building. She fished the key from her pocket and unlocked the door.

  Griff was sitting on the edge of the dock when she returned with a pole and tackle box.

  He watched her expertly bait the hook and cast the fishing line into the water. He absently adjusted his arm in the sling and kept an eye on Maggie. She fished from the side of the dock that overlooked a patch of weeds.

  “What kind of fish are you hoping to snare?”

  “Smallmouth bass, mostly.”

  “You don’t need live bait?”

  “I’ve had a lot of success with this hardheaded, soft-bodied lure. The natural swimming motion usually attracts a large variety of species.”

  “What other types live in these waters?”

  “Largemouth bass, stripers, trout and a few others.” Maggie reeled in her line and cast it again. The sun had risen high above the trees and caught the reddish glints in her hair.

  He was amazed at how relaxed she had become. The tension that had riddled her expression had given way as she easily handled the rod in her hand. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her this at ease or sure of herself. But then, she’d never let him get this close before.

  “Maybe you should become a fishing guide.”

  She chuckled. Her expression curried an edge of mischief. “You trying to find me another job?”

  He felt his own mouth turn up at the corners. “Just trying to connect all the dots.”

  “Ever the cop.”

  “Not everyone has all your hidden talents, Bennington. BJ never mentioned anything about fishing. Could he manage a rod and reel as well as you do?”

  She shook her head. “Dad didn’t like coming up here. He wasn’t much for the great outdoors unless it involved chasing down a criminal. He hated bugs, birds and anything to do with wildlife.”

  “So you came up here with Wylie?”

  “He was my godfather. Sometimes he seemed more like a parent than Dad did.”

  “Did you ever know your mother?”

  Maggie shook her head. “She died of a brain aneurysm before I was a year old. Dad never would talk about her, so I know very little about who she was or what she liked to do.”

  “It was probably too painful for him to remember.”

  Her expression twisted. “That was Dad all right. If it was personal or emotional, he shut it down.”

  Any mention of BJ brought a distinct coolness to Maggie’s expression. Griff strove to steer the conversation back to a neutral track. “What do you do after you catch something?”

  “I throw them back in.”

  Griff rubbed his shoulder again.

  “Is your arm bothering you?” Maggie asked.

  “What?”

  “You keep massaging it. Are you having some pain?”

  He hadn’t realized he’d been worrying his arm. “No. I don’t like being restricted. I think I’d rather wear handcuffs.”

  “You want to borrow mine?”

  Her playful comment tweaked him in a way he didn’t expect. Her sassiness contained a sexy edge. Did she sense it, or was he the only one feeli
ng the heat shimmering between them?

  This was another side of Maggie he’d seldom seen. Around him, she wore a protective armor that hid her expressions. “Feeling pretty cocky, Bennington?” he asked. “Don’t let this cast deceive you. I can still take you down.”

  “I don’t think—” Her easiness disappeared. “Oh, shoot!”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “My line is snagged on that branch.”

  Maggie set down her pole between two rocks so it wouldn’t slip into the lake.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Unsnag it.”

  Griff eyed the murky water. He wasn’t much of a swimmer, even without the cast. If something should happen to her…. “Can’t you just break it?”

  “The water isn’t that deep.”

  Without a backward glance, she carefully waded out into the water where the line stretched taut. She didn’t seem bothered by her wet pants or shoes.

  Griff recalled a time when his wife had gotten caught in a rainstorm. Getting her hair wet had been tantamount to braving an earthquake. Yet here was Maggie, unconcerned with her hair, feet or legs, venturing into a lake to save a fishing line.

  Griff struggled to his feet and snugged the crutch to his side. Lord knows what he’d do if she dropped out of sight. He wanted to be alert, just in case.

  Before he could hobble a foot, Maggie called, “Got it.”

  Griff stopped at the water’s edge as Maggie emerged with her freed line.

  She looked down at her wet legs and grimaced. “Guess I’d better change. Do you need help getting back?”

  “I can manage.”

  Griff couldn’t help but notice how the wet clothing clung to her body and revealed her shapely figure. Lust packed a powerful punch and had him fighting to draw air into his lungs.

  Fortunately Maggie was already agilely picking her way back to the cabin. He took his time following her.

  She was quick and light on her feet, while he felt like he was carrying a ball and chain. Some rescuer he would have been.

  Fortunately Maggie hadn’t needed him.

  He wondered why that bothered him.

  By the middle of the afternoon, Griff’s inactivity chafed and made him even more irritable.

  After he’d arrived back inside the cabin, Maggie emerged from the shower. Wading into the lake hadn’t slowed her down, he noted as she hauled her sewing machine to the table.

  Before she pulled her fabric and patterns from one of the boxes she’d carried into the room, she set up the ironing board.

  He checked his cell phone for messages but discovered that the digital service didn’t reach the area.

  “Wylie is going to have trouble contacting us.”

  At his comment, Maggie lifted her head from the scrap of cloth she was working on. “He can call the sheriff. We’re not entirely out of touch.”

  “I wish he’d get here with those files.”

  Maggie didn’t say anything as she lowered her head again.

  “What are you doing?” Griff asked.

  “I’m making pantaloons for two of the dolls I plan to display in my shop window.”

  “Do you ever sew real clothes?”

  “Sometimes.”

  There was another lengthy pause. Then Griff said, “You’ll make someone a great wife, Bennington.”

  “Are you trying to provoke me, Murdock?” She kept her tone even.

  “Why is that a provocation? Don’t you want to get married?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I learned a long time ago that a woman can’t count on a man.”

  The sound Griff made dripped with disbelief. “And a man can rely on a woman?”

  Pressure started to build around Maggie’s temples. “I suppose it depends on the woman.”

  “And the man.”

  She sighed and set down her sewing. “You have nothing to do so you want to start an argument?”

  “It’s not an argument. I’m curious to know why you haven’t gotten married.”

  “Time, motive and opportunity. Take your pick.”

  “What about kids? Don’t you like kids?”

  The pressure crescendoed into a persistent drumbeat. “I adore children.”

  “You just don’t want to have any of your own.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Have children.”

  Maggie considered the man sitting across the room from her. His irritability wasn’t surprising. The temperature inside the cabin had been climbing all afternoon. There was no air-conditioning and no wind to force a breeze through the open windows. Of all years to have a late September heat wave, why did it have to be this one?

  Griff had changed his T-shirt but was still wearing the jeans with one pant leg slashed midway up his thigh to accommodate his cast. He’d run his fingers through his hair so many times that one side stood on end.

  The rumpled look would be appealing if he didn’t appear ready to push his fist down her throat.

  They’d already covered topics that included the weather, politics, gender biases and the police department’s budget cuts.

  Now they had reverted back to personal subjects. She should be grateful he hadn’t brought up her father’s name.

  “I don’t intend to have children because I don’t intend to get married.”

  “A lot of women are choosing to be single parents.”

  “Good for them. I, on the other hand, only had one parent. I personally think a child is a two-parent responsibility. It’s not just about the parent. It’s also what a child needs.”

  Silence descended over the room. Through the open window came the sounds of a few noisy insects and a bird scolding an intruder.

  Griff grimaced as he adjusted his position on the big leather chair. “Some kids would be glad just to have one parent.”

  At the brooding in Griff’s face, Maggie asked, “Are you speaking from experience?”

  He shrugged.

  It wasn’t much of an answer. She decided to pursue her own curiosity. “Did you ever want kids?”

  She didn’t think he was going to answer at first. “Wanting and having are two different realities.”

  She noticed he didn’t answer her question. Shadows crept across his face to shut out his thoughts. For some reason, she was reluctant to press him as to why. Instead she packed up the items she’d sewn and removed the sewing machine from the table.

  Griff lumbered to his feet. “I’m going outside to get some fresh air. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “Do you want some company?”

  “No.”

  She watched him leave. He had to be in pain, but she noticed that he still refused to take any of the pain medication the doctor had prescribed. Nor did he complain about his injuries.

  Her father had always said Griff was the toughest cop he’d ever known. She wondered if it was because of his past or because he was trying to prove himself.

  She’d never heard either BJ or Griff talk about his family. Did he have brothers and sisters? Or was he an only child, like she had been?

  She sensed the latter.

  It took a lonely soul to recognize another one.

  Griff would have tossed and turned on the lumpy sofa bed, but his cast made such a luxury impossible.

  He’d been able to do little more than doze since he’d finally managed to ease his frame into the bed. His leg had swollen, a result of all the strain he’d put on it throughout the day.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, he was also beset with erotic fantasies of tumbling Maggie into his bed and having hot and heavy sex.

  What in the hell was the matter with him? He’d always kept a firm control over his hormones when it came to women.

  Of course, Maggie wasn’t just another woman. She was his wife. Maybe the fact that they were supposedly on their honeymoon was scrambling his head.

/>   For the past hour, he’d made every attempt to divert his mind to the shooting. Or trying to identify the unfamiliar sounds of the northern Wisconsin night. Each endeavor met with futility.

  Logically, he knew better than to get tangled up with someone like Maggie. For all of her arguments against getting married, she was a homebody. One only had to watch her tending to that pasty-faced doll she’d dragged out of her suitcase to realize how much she longed to be a mother. To have a family.

  A man didn’t fool around with a woman who made doll clothes.

  Since Sonja’s death, he’d always chosen safe women to date. Women who didn’t want ties any more than he did. Women who walked away with no regrets.

  In the dark night, Griff couldn’t conjure a single face of any of those women. There hadn’t been many of them. But there had been enough so that at least one of them should have made a lasting impression.

  So why could he only see Maggie’s freckled face in his mind’s eye? Why did his fingertips tingle with the need to grab a fistful of her red hair and turn her mouth toward his?

  The desire stirring in his loins was making his leg throb. He couldn’t decide which was the greater pain.

  Maggie knew Griff wasn’t sleeping, either. She’d heard him shift on the couch, then turn on the light. Looking at the digital clock, she realized it was only five minutes later than the last time she’d looked.

  She sat up and reached for her robe. There was no sense in trying to pretend either one of them could sleep. Before she opened the door, she pulled her suitcase from under the bed and retrieved the deck of cards she’d thrown in at the last minute.

  Then she walked into the living room.

  Griff didn’t seem surprised to see her. He’d probably been as aware of her movements as she’d been of his. The small cabin didn’t allow secrets.

  She pulled a chair away from the table and sat down, propping the deck of cards in front of her. “Do you want to play gin rummy?”

  He grimaced. “How many cards do you deal?”

  “Ten. Match three of a kind or collect a run of three in the same suit.”

  He staggered to his feet. “Sounds easy enough.”

  When he tried to sit down, there was little room to put his stiff limb. Maggie jumped up and shoved the extra chair near him. Then she lifted his cast and propped it on several pillows. “That okay?” she asked.