Copyright © 2002
by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher
REVIEWS
4-1/2 Stars - Perhaps Gail Gaymer Martin's best. This story will keep you riveted. - Romantic Times
4-1/2 Plugs - A LOVE FOR SAFEKEEPING is a powerful blend of passion and suspense...one of the finest romantic suspense stories I have read. - Tracy Farnsworth, The Romance Reader Connection
4-1/2 Stars - Ms. Martin writes her faith. - Karen Larsen, Scribes World
GGM has found the balance of mystery and intrigue. This novel is hard to put aside once you begin to read it. Dale Van Tassel -www.thewordonromance. com
Wow! A must read for anyone who enjoys suspense, romance and a great story. Linda Mae Baldwin for CWWC
Gail’s writing is phenomenal. A LOVE FOR SAFEKEEPING is her best book yet. If you want humor, mystery and romance, pick up this one. You won’t want to put it down. - Donna Wrathell, Bookseller, Donna’s Book Stop
This story really keeps you thinking. Trying to figure out who would want to hurt Jane is a real mystery. I really enjoyed the building of love between Kyle and Jane. Both are willing to make sacrifices for the other. Della Larkins, Reviewer, Old Book Barn Gazette.
With A LOVE FOR SAFEKEEPING, Gail Gaymer Martin offers a lovely, sparkling tale in which the elements of faith, mystery and romance are woven together seamlessly. One night this winter, light a candle, curl up someplace warm, and spend an evening with this heartening story. - Marcie McQuillan, Romance Reviews Today.
Excerpt Chapter One
"Why?"
Jane Conroy asked herself the same question a hundred times as she peered at her vandalized classroom and cringed at the crunch of glass beneath her feet. Two wide windows stood with shattered panes, their glass slivered on the wide marble sill and scattered across the floor. Textbooks lay in jumbled heaps around the room, and student desks had been strewn topsy-turvy.
Staring at the filthy graffiti covering the cream-colored walls, Jane clenched her fists. Anger and frustration vied for first place inside her. Her second day at Jackson Elementary, and she’d been violated.
Norm Skylar, her principal, compounded her wavering emotions. Since she reported the damage, he had treated her like a piece of used tissue, something he’d like to discard and forget. And at the moment, she felt about as useless.
New to the staff, she expected her principal’s support rather than his condescending attitude, especially since her few weeks back in town hadn’t given her enough time to offend a soul. Garnering her courage, she’d expressed those exact sentiments to him, but he didn’t seem to listen...or care.
Skylar’s reedy voice attacked her ear as he spoke in confidential tones with Kirk Brown from central office, then glanced toward her with his placating glower.
To avoid his frown, Jane wandered to the teacher’s desk and stared down at the floor, disheartened by the contents of her well-organized drawers now spread across the tile like trash. Crouching, she reached out to gather the glass-spattered supplies, but was jolted by Skylar’s bark that shattered her solitude.
"Miss Conroy, leave that, please."
Like a reprimanded child, she snatched her hand from the heap of notepads. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she fell back on her heels and stood.
Skylar’s frown nailed her to the spot. "The police will be here in a few minutes. When they’re gone, you can pick up your things." Pinching his thin lower lip between his fingers, he pivoted back to his hushed conversation.
Police. Images swirled in her thoughts, and she cringed. Visions of the familiar policeman’s uniform jackknifed her father’s angry face into her memory. The defilement of her room wasn’t enough. Now, the debasing memories violated her morning.
Pushing the thoughts from her mind, Jane wandered toward the door, anywhere to escape Skylar. With her thoughts miles away, she swung through the doorway and thudded into a broad, blue-uniformed chest. With her nose against the badge, she froze, reliving her childhood panic. But when she raised her head, she focused on a pair of amused blue eyes set in a sturdy, handsome face. "Excuse me," the officer said. His square-jaw relaxed to a pleasant smile.
She collected herself. "My fault. I wasn’t looking." But she certainly was now, marveling at his
strapping size–-tall and broad shouldered with an expansive chest.
Gaping at him, Jane realized neither of them had moved. Her cheeks tingled with rising heat, and she fumbled through her thoughts for a coherent sentence. "You’re looking for the principal." She gestured toward Skylar, who stared in their direction.
Jane stepped aside to let the officer pass, but to her discomfort, he shifted in the same direction. With a grimace, she shifted again, and he followed like two people learning the Texas Two-Step. Addled, she stared at their toe-to-toe shoes, unable to look him in the eye.
In a flash, his broad hand rested on her shoulders. "You stay put, and I’ll step around you, otherwise we may dance all morning."
Flustered by his touch, she held her place, riveted to the floor. When he passed her, she turned to watch him stride across the broken glass toward Skylar who peered in their direction with thin, pursed lips.
When the officer reached Skylar’s side, Kirk Brown said good bye, shot past her, and vanished through the doorway.
Jane stood back, watching as they discussed the break-in. Then, with a blast of expelled breath, Skylar headed toward the doorway. "I’ll get some one on this shortly," he said to her with a nod to the disheveled room.
Jane followed him toward the doorway. "Is there anything I can do?"
Without comment, he turned and spoke to the officer from the doorway. "You are through with me?"
"Right," he said.
Skylar shifted his focus to Jane. "Find another room to work in until we get this cleaned up." He pivoted, gesturing into the air. "I don’t know why these things happen to me."
Wondering what to do and where to go, Jane steadied herself amid the debris while the officer stood motionless across the room.
"I’m not sure where to begin," she said, gathering her bearings.
"Whatever you do, be careful of the glass." He sauntered toward her, then squatted and gathered a stack of file folders. He rose and placed them on her desk.
"Thanks. What can I do here?" she asked, gesturing to the clutter. The sunlight caught the prisms of shattered glass like sparkling fairy dust. "If I clean this mess will I destroy the fingerprints."
His silence turned into a chuckle. "I think you’re safe. On a big heist like this one, we just check our list of local juvenile offenders."
"Juveniles?"
"That’s the usual."
"This was done by students? But why?" She ran her fingers through her hair, envisioning cherub-faced third graders spray painting filth on her walls. How could they dislike her? Students hadn’t attended yet. She’d only moved back to the Detroit area. Certainly, not enough time to upset anybody. "But it...but yesterday was my first day at Jackson."
"You mean this is the welcome you get? What about streamers and party balloons?" He gave her a playful wink. "Knowing you isn’t the issue. Kids just do things."
With frustration, she plucked a textbook from the floor. The man was trying to be friendly, but the uniform bothered her. She had to admit he seemed mild-mannered, playful, even. Still, her defenses rose, unbidden.
Avoiding the glass shards, she gathered the notepads and straightened. He hadn’t moved. Tension tightened in her neck. "Are you waiting for something?"
"Not really." His amused expression held its steady gaze.
Jane’s stomach fluttered, and butterflies flitted through her limbs.
"So you’re new in town." He extended his hand. "I’m Kyle Manning...one of Redmond’s finest."
Tangled between interest and frustration, she grasped his strong fingers. "Jane Conroy. One of Jackson’s finest."
"I don’t doubt it for the world." He gave her a long, steady look before he released his grasp. "Well," he said, shifting his feet and resting on one heel. "I should hit the road and file this report."
"And I should salvage my supplies," she said with a sweeping gesture.
He strode toward the door, but before he stepped into the hall, he hesitated. "Now, do like the man said. Find another place to work before you cut yourself." He gave her a wink. "Nice to meet you," he said and stepped through the doorway.
Jane stood for a moment staring after him, wishing he were anything but a police officer. She liked his gentle manner and his teasing way. The uniform and his behavior were a sad paradox.
Growing up with her angry, explosive, police officer father had left Jane with one resolute promise. Never would she be involved with a man who carried a weapon or wore a badge. The thought bristled up her back while his memory settle in her heart.
She refocused on the floor and stooped to right-side a desk drawer, then gathered the paraphernalia scattered about her feet and placed it inside.
"Now-ow . . . don’t cut yerself there."
Jane straightened with breakneck speed and threw her hand against her chest.
A round-shouldered man in a gray work shirt and pants peered at her from the doorway. "I-I co-come to clean up the g-glass.
"Okay, thanks," Jane said, peering at his hang-dog eyes and loose-jowled face.
He stepped into the room carrying a push broom in one hand and an oversized dust pan in the other. "Jus’ call me Charlie," he said. Slack-jawed, he continued to watch her.
Jane agreed and hurried to gather her books and material. His fixed gaze sent an unpleasant sensation, riding up her spine.
He leaned on the handle of the broom as if it were a crutch and watched her. "Jus’ run along when you’re ready."
That’s exactly what she wanted to do. She piled the books into her arms and scurried to the door. When she hit the hallway, she paused, then headed toward the teacher’s lounge.
The room was empty except for an olive-skinned, young woman with a full head of shiny, black hair.
Looking up from her poised pen, she smiled. "Hi. Have a seat." She gestured to the chair next to her. "I’m Celia Lopez. Welcome to Jackson Elementary."
"Jane Conroy. Thanks." The woman’s sincere smile eased her with a calming effect.
"There’s coffee on the counter." Celia pointed to a small alcove kitchen.
"Thanks. Maybe later." Jane piled her books on the round table and slid onto a chair.
"What a way to start your year, huh?"
Jane nodded. Except for Kyle coming to her aid, her confidence had been as sabotaged as her classroom.
"We’re hall partners. Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to talk with you yesterday," Celia said. "My room’s next to yours."
Her classroom shivered through her mind, images of destruction and violence. "I feel so violated."
Celia frowned. "They didn’t touch my room. I never understand why that happens."
Jane shrugged, wondering if this were God’s punishment for her struggling faith.
Celia gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder, then lifted her coffee mug and sipped the pungent brew. "So what’s happening with your room?"
"Charlie’s sweeping up the glass."
"Good old Charlie," Celia said. "He’s a mite slow, but the kids like him."
Jane agreed about the "mite slow." She shifted the stack of books in front of her to avoid speaking aloud.
Celia lowered her dark eyes and returned to her work. Silence fell over the room as Jane opened the lesson planning book with the intention of reviewing the material for tomorrow’s first half-day with her students. But instead, Kyle Manning’s image drifted into her mind. His friendly smile and teasing blue eyes shimmered in her thoughts like sunshine, but reality poked her again. The image of his uniform dropped a barricade against her warm thoughts.
Time ticked silently past. Finally, Celia rose and piled her books into a stack. "Guess, I’ll get back to my room." She flashed an understanding grin. "At least, I have one. Nice to meet you, Jane."
"Same here," Jane said, tugging her attention back to the textbook. But again, her undisciplined thoughts reenacted her disconcerting earlier meeting with Kyle.
For years she’d watched her mother cower against her dad’s angry words. Her Christian mother had raised her to trust in the Lord, but when Jane called to God in her fear and confusion, she’d received no answer. Now her faith flagged and a challenging question surfaced. Why did God allow anger and violence to ruin the world?
With friendly greetings, teachers drifted in and out of the lounge, but the morning and afternoon dragged. Finally the wall clock hand’s pointed to four. Jane stood and stretched, bracing her back with her palms.
When the door flew open, Jane looked up in surprise.
Celia paused in the threshold. "How would you like to join me for dinner somewhere?"
With no old friendships renewed, Jane longed for company. Without hesitating, she accepted the invitation.
"Great" Celia said. "I need to stop at The Teacher’s Pet and pick up a few bulletin board supplies, do you mind?"
"That’s fine with me."
"Whenever you’re ready then, let me know." She swung open the door and paused. "Oh, have you checked your classroom? It looks almost finished." She grinned. "Just holler when you’re ready."
Celia vanished, and Jane gathered her belongings, then headed down the hall to check her classroom. For the first time since she returned to Redmond, she felt adventuresome and optimistic. Her work would fill her time, and maybe, Celia would become a friend.
Then, Kyle nudged her thoughts. Never. That relationship was not possible.
* * *
Kyle couldn’t believe his good fortune. As he stood at the restaurant entrance, Jane’s bright curls caught his attention like a red flag. Glancing down at his jeans and a knit shirt, he wondered if she’d recognize him in his "civies."
He’d spent the afternoon speculating how he might see Jane again, and seeing her across the room answered his question. Though they’d only talked briefly, she tugged at his emotions. Her uncertainty, maybe, or the faint flush that washed across her rounded cheekbones. She seemed shy. Or maybe lonely.
Perhaps his "rescuer" MO drew her to him. Whatever, he hadn’t been interested in anyone particular in a long time. That morning, Jane Conroy tugged at his heartstrings.
Hoping he wouldn’t appear forward, he maneuvered around the crowded tables in her direction. The diner’s unadorned decor seemed brightened by the petit redhead sitting in a back booth. When he reached her side, the young woman with her lifted a curious eyebrow. He gave her a friendly nod and tapped his finger on Jane’s shoulder.
She pivoted and looked at him with a puzzled frown. Then, she drew in a deep breath, and the confusion in her sea-green eyes melted to surprise. "Oh, it’s...you." A soft flush rose on her cheeks "I didn’t recognize you without the uniform."
He winked, watching her flush deepen. "Undercover," he whispered. "I’m tailing you."
Wide-eyed, Jane studied him. "I like you better dressed this way."
He sensed something cryptic in her words. While he tried to sort out what she meant, Jane motioned toward her friend.
"Celia, this is Kyle Manning," she said. "Kyle, Celia Lopez. She teaches second grade."
"Second grade. Well now," Kyle couldn’t help but admired Celia’s black hair and dark eyes.
Celia leaned toward him. "Do you have recollections of second grade, Mr. Manning? If you’d care to join us, I’d be happy to listen."
Her flirtation was obvious. Kyle grinned and accepted the invitation. Instead of joining her, he slid into the booth beside Jane.
When he was settled, Celia realized her wasted efforts. "So where did you two meet?"
"Kyle was the officer who came to my room this morning." Jane turned toward him. "Any news, yet?"
"No, nothing before I went off-duty. But don’t worry. Someone out there will spill their guts." He realized his choice of words. "Sorry, that’s a technical term we use at the station."
She laughed. He liked the easy sound, and he relaxed. Earlier, her subdued tone made him wonder if he’d offended her by stopping at her table.
"It’s always a kid," he added. "They brag about their antics, and someone, usually a parent, does his or her civic duty and turns them in."
"Hopefully, you’ll know more the next time I see you." Jane said.
"Does that mean you’d like to see me again?"
This time, a deeper blush covered Jane’s face. He studied her. She seemed attracted to him, yet uncertain.
Jane pressed her palms against her red cheeks.
Teasing, Kyle gave her shoulder a comforting pat. But he lingered a moment, enjoying the feel of her slender arm beneath the cloth of her silky blouse.
"It’s the red hair," she said.
Celia chuckled. "Great excuse."
Kyle eyed the situation. "I hope you didn’t mind that I plopped down here. Did I interrupt anything?"
"Not at all," Celia said. "We’re just two hungry people who don’t want to go home and cook."
Kyle eyed Jane for approval. "Then it’s okay if we’re three hungry people escaping the same fate."
"Sure," Jane said, with a hesitant smile.
Intrigued, Kyle longed to know more about this confusing woman.
They quieted, comparing menu items, and finally, Kyle signaled the waitress who took their order.
As they waited for their orders and during the meal, casual conversation rattled on, but as they ordered coffee, Celia opened her wallet and dropped some bills on the table. "I don’t want to put an end to this evening, but I have some things to do." She grinned at Jane. "I’m sure Kyle will keep you company." She gave him a meaningful arched eyebrow and rose.
When she vanished through the doorway, Kyle leaned back, enjoying the silence and the privacy Celia had offered them. But with her departure, Jane grew quiet.
After coffee was served, Jane looked up from her cup with a sigh. "I enjoyed the company tonight. I’ve felt pretty much alone since I came back to Redmond."
"No old friends?" Kyle asked.
"Haven’t bothered to look them up. I suppose most have moved away or we don’t have much in common any more. Tonight’s been nice."
"It has," he agreed, sensing a serious conversation in the making. "What brought you back home?"
She lowered her eyes. "My mom died a couple of months ago. In July. Dad died years ago."
"Sorry to hear that." Kyle’s thoughts flew immediately to his own parents.
"I’m their only kid. An orphan at twenty-nine. With a house sitting here empty and a mediocre teaching job up north, I decided to move back home. Things sort of fell into place." Her misty eyes softened.
Her nostalgia tugged at Kyle’s own loss. He gripped his clasped fingers, fighting his desire to reach over and comfort her. "It must be hard losing parents. I’m pretty close with mine. It took me a while to move out of my folks’ house." He chuckled. "But I have my own place now."
"A house?"
"Apartment." He lowered his elbows and fold his hands in front of him on the table. "My life’s not very interesting."
Jane arched her eyebrow. "How can you say that? You’re a police officer."
"I mean, my family came here after I got out of high school, and I followed along. Never moved away. Nothing adventurous." He flinched. Admitting he was in a rut wasn’t the way to impress a woman.
"Mine isn’t either," Jane said. "Any brothers or sisters?"
When he heard her question, the old sadness shot through him. He paused to recover from the unexpected emotion. "Only one. But my older brother, Paulie, died in the military. A training accident. It was a difficult time for us. Especially my folks."
"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked."
"No, please, it’s okay." He touched her arm, loving the softness of her flesh against his fingers.
Jane lowered her eyes and traced the design in the plastic table top with her fingernail. "I remember how we felt when my dad died." She appeared lost in thought, then lifted her head. "Was he young? Your brother?"
"Twenty or twenty-one. I was just a kid. Eight, maybe. He was thirteen years older than me. And my idol."
A heavy lull settled over the conversation. Kyle struggled to think of something to say that might change the mood, but the emotion weighted the air.
"Do you live alone?" he asked finally.
Her face brightened. "Just me and Wilcox."
"Will Cox is....?" His full stomach plummeted. She lives with someone.
A coy grin curved her generous mouth. "Cat," she said.
"Cat?" Reality seeped into his mind, and a laugh rose from his chest. "Oh, Wilcox is your cat."
She nodded. The smile remained.
The food bill arrived, and Kyle grabbed it before she could. "Don’t say a word. I enjoyed having your company for dinner."
She acquiesced, and after he settled the bill, they stepped outside. Kyle drew in a long breath of the late summer air, mingled with her sweet, tangy fragrance like lemonade and sugary ripe melons. He filled his lungs and lifted his gaze to the heavens.
A wash of purple and orange splashed across the horizon, and the hint of a quarter moon rose in the darkening sky. Too early for stars, he lowered his gaze to Jane’s glimmering eyes.
He grasped her elbow and guided her toward the parking lot, enjoying her nearness. He’d become a police officer to defend and protect people. Jane aroused that need. She was alone and vulnerable. He longed to watch over her... and he wanted to be her friend.
They walked close together, wrapped in silence, and heading down a parking aisle, Jane pointed to her car.
But Kyle’s seasoned eye spotted trouble. He faltered.
"What?" Jane asked.
Wanting to make sure, Kyle hurried toward her vehicle. At close range, he confirmed the truth.
"Looks like you’ve got a problem."