One Perfect Love E-Book

Maryann Miller

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Mature love can sometimes be the best love.

When she worked with Detective Steve Morrity two years ago as a member of a drug task force, Jenny Jasik couldn’t deny the pull of a very strong attraction that went both ways. Then the case ended, but they both realized it was still too soon to act on the chemistry.

Emotional wounds were still too fresh and raw, so they had followed their heads, not their hearts. Now, they’ve tossed logic out the window, and they’re ready to give love a chance.

But when Jenny’s flower shop is burglarized and Steve’s boss reminds him that it is against policy for an officer to date a victim of a crime, is it a sign it’s not meant to be - or can they find happiness together?

Leseprobe

ONE PERFECT LOVE

SEQUEL TO ONE SMALL VICTORY

MARYANN MILLER

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

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About the Author

Copyright (C) 2019 Maryann Miller

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Edited by Elizabeth N. Love

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

To my friend, Becky Wheeler-Pickett. She knows all the reasons why.

ONE

Jenny knelt in front of the small headstone, reaching out with one finger to lightly trace the inscription — Michael Jasik 1996 – 2014 – Beloved Son. It had been two years since the funeral, but there were times she forgot it wasn’t just yesterday. Those were days when the grief snuck up behind her and then slammed her in the gut like a battering ram. Those were the days when she was a total wreck. Unable to work. Unable to do much of anything except maybe breathe.

And even that was a challenge.

She didn’t know why she kept coming here. She knew Michael wasn’t here. At least not in spirit. According to the preachers of her childhood, Michael was either in heaven or hell. There was no in-between with those men who spoke of a God who would rain fire and brimstone down upon the sinners of this world. Jenny always had a hard time relating to a God like that. Perhaps that’s why she stopped going to church as soon as she could move away from home and escape the mandate that “you will go to church as long as you live in my house.”

Even though she never acknowledged it, a small part of her did know exactly why she came here so often. Besides the officers at the Little Oak police department, Michael was the only one who knew that Jenny had shot a man two years ago.

Her grief was split between the loss of a son and the loss of a piece of herself.

She could share that with Michael.

She had also been able to share that with Steve. Warm, wonderful, wise Steve who had been the first man since Ralph that she had even considered as someone who could be a permanent fixture in her life. The chemistry was there. They both recognized it as they’d worked together on that drug task force. Then, it had been professional boundaries that kept them on either side of a distinct line. Afterward, they had tried to build something, but they both just found it too hard to try to be normal when nothing was normal in either of their lives. So she had gone back to being a single woman without a relationship.

Most days, that was tolerable. She had her kids. And her friends. And her work. And her wonderful business partner. But it had been a long time since she had a companion, in bed and otherwise. That one person you would call first with good news, or bad, who was not your girlfriend. And someone to hold close in bed on cold winter nights.

A cool October breeze brushed across her face, drying the tears that had run down her cheeks in a great warm river. This was a safe place to let the tears pour out. She couldn’t do that at home in front of her other kids. They were dealing with mountains of grief in their own way. She knew that, and if they still cried, they hid it well. Not like the first year when tears cluttered the house like old newspapers and magazines that should have been thrown out months ago. The crying couldn’t continue indefinitely. She realized that, so she had started hiding her tears, trying to establish a different kind of normal that didn’t include losing emotional control at odd moments in time.

This fall, Scott had run headlong into his senior year, and Jenny didn’t want to be all emotionally needy when he was focused on school and grades and to which college he would apply. And Alicia? Well, Alicia was still being the strong little girl she’d been most of her life, holding them together as a family the best she could. Even though she was now thirteen and blossoming into a lovely young lady, she would always be Jenny’s little girl. And she would always be the strong one. The peacemaker. The one who encouraged smiles, not tears.

Jenny rose, checking her watch. Almost eight. Scott and Alicia were on their way to school by now. Earlier, she’d left them finishing breakfast with stern orders to clean up when they were finished. They didn’t ask why she was going to work so early. Some things none of them asked about. It was still an hour before opening, but she knew she should be headed to the shop by now. Her partner Mitchell was coming in late, so she was going to be on her own for most of the morning. He was taking Jeffrey to a doctor appointment. That horrible AIDS just might claim another victim. Poor Jeffrey. Poor Mitchell.

After one more glance at the headstone, Jenny turned and hurried to her car. Luckily, she was only a few miles from the floral shop she’d owned with Mitchell for ten years now. It was housed in an old, Victorian-style house that she’d recently painted a soft blue. It had needed paint for several years, but, well, life had interfered, starting with Michael’s death. Shortly after he was killed in that car accident, she’d muscled her way on to a drug task force to help the police stop the proliferation of drugs in the sleepy little town of Little Oak.

Until remnants of a white powdery substance had been found at the scene of the accident that had claimed her son’s life, she’d had no idea that the use of cocaine was so prevalent in the town. She was too busy raising three kids by herself and trying to run a business. Then the accident. Then the awareness. Then the task force. She still couldn’t believe she’d done it. When she’d joined the task force, she was numb with grief and not thinking well at all, a fact of which her mother and her best friend kept reminding her. But she’d persevered, passed the physical and helped bring down the main drug supplier for North Texas.

Pulling to a stop in front of her shop, Jenny glanced at the sign and smiled. A TOUCH OF JOY/Flowers for all Occasions. She’d thought about changing the sign when she painted the building, but Mitchell had vetoed that idea. He’d reminded her of why she’d named it that in the first place. “Flowers bring joy no matter the circumstances.”

He was right. Flowers helped celebrate the happy occasions and brought comfort in the not-so-happy occasions.

She locked her car and hurried up the walk, stopping short when she noticed the front door was slightly ajar. What the …? Her heart thumped so hard against her ribs, she thought it would bust right out. She took a breath and pushed the door open, calling out, “Mitchell? You here?”

Silence.

Taking a tentative step inside, she paused a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim interior, then she saw it. The mess. The arrangement she always kept on the end of the front counter now on the floor, flowers scattered and squashed. The vase smashed to pieces. Papers strewn about, some floating in the water from the arrangement. The old grandfather clock pushed over. Chairs upended. Her cash box tossed into the corner. Open. Empty. Anger and frustration warred within her, fighting for top billing. Some horrible person had broken in and done all this.

Was that someone still here?

That question sent her heart racing again, so fast she thought it might explode right out of her chest. She tried to take a breath to steady herself, standing absolutely still for a moment. Then she shook the fear aside and pulled a can of Mace from her purse. She held her hand out as she stepped the rest of the way inside, careful to avoid the part of the flooring in the entry that always squeaked. She’d never fixed the loose board because it always alerted her to a customer if she was in the back design area. Letting the can of Mace lead the way, she walked slowly around the front counter to the doorway that led to the back of the shop. She sidled up to one side, peeking around the corner. What was she thinking? Clearing the building like some cop on a TV show? She smothered a laugh, knowing the impulse was driven by manic fear, not humor.

The design part of the shop was one spacious room with wide work counters on two walls, refrigerators on another, and shelving on the fourth. It, too, was a mess, but there was no place for an intruder to hide. She took a deep breath to stop the pounding of her heart, dropped the Mace back into her purse, and pulled out her cell to dial 911.

Lieutenant Steve Morrity looked up as Officer Linda Winfield poked her head into his office. “Just took this call from dispatch,” she said. “Thought you might want to respond.”

“What is it?”

“Burglary.”

“Why aren’t you taking it?” Being his subordinate, she was the most likely person to handle a burglary, but rank was just a title here, not a pecking order. The whole department was comprised of Chief Gonzales, Steve, Linda, and four patrol officers. They tended to work together more on equal footing than not, and Steve liked it that way. Still, he had that murder case wrapping up with tons of paperwork and didn’t need anything else right now. Linda knew that.

She walked over and dropped a piece of paper on his desk. It fluttered for a moment in the breeze from the overhead fan, then settled on the burnished wood. “Thought you might want an excuse to see this woman again.”

“Huh?”

“Read the name and address.”

Steve picked up the paper and read the information. Jenny? Really? My Jenny? Steve shook his head. How absurd to even think that. She wasn't his Jenny. Not that he hadn’t wanted her to be when they worked together on that drug case. They both had recognized the electricity that sizzled between them, and they’d tried to act on it once the case was over. But she needed to back off. She needed time, and he’d understood. Hell, at the time, he’d still needed to back off. He’d known he wasn't over losing Katie. Not enough to fully allow another woman into his heart. And Jenny deserved a man who was able to give her his all.

Now?

He smiled. It was possible that he was ready. Was she?

Linda chuckled. “I was right.”

Steve had almost forgotten Linda was still there until the laugh. He looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

“I’m surprised you do so well at poker.”

Now Steve chuckled. “Get out of here.”