Dark Blue

By Ranae Rose

When Belle finally comes home to the Lowcountry, a beat cop with a rocky past has two choices: convince her to trust the man he's become, or lose a second chance at what he's always wanted ... her.

If Belle is going to get a speeding ticket, it might as well be written by the hottest cop South Island has ever seen. But Officer Jackson Calder isn’t just a daydream in blue, he’s the first man she ever slept with, and the only one she doesn’t regret.

One routine traffic stop, and Jackson’s past is back to haunt him in the most bittersweet way imaginable. Too good for him and too good to forget, Belle became a fantasy after she left the island. Now that she’s home for good in the Lowcountry, she’s a living, breathing temptation he can’t resist.

He was her first, but that was just the beginning. It’s being the last that counts.

Book 1 in the South Island PD Series

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ranae Rose
• Release date: Oct 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311313317

Ranae Rose

Hi, I’m Ranae, author of 30+ romance novels and novellas. My works include the Inked in the Steel City Series, Lock and Key Series, South Island PD Series and more. I began writing romance in 2011 in my early twenties, and the romance book community has been a source of joy ever since.I live in the South with a husband who’s even better than any of the heroes I’ve written, two kids, two cats who think they run the show and a dog who tolerates us all. In my free time, I’m a voracious reader, avid cook, and possibly the world’s most enthusiastic amateur urban gardener.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Charlestonians vented all their aggression on the roads. It was how they managed to keep the city’s famous Southern charm from wearing thin elsewhere. So, Belle didn’t think much of pressing the pedal to the floor to pass a particularly awful driver who’d nearly caused her to rear-end their vehicle.

She wasn’t a Charlestonian, but she was a South Islander, and that was close enough. A steel bridge united the island with Charleston, supporting a constant stream of traffic in both directions. As she crossed it, she forgot about lifting her foot off the gas pedal – something she realized when lights flashed red and blue in her rear-view mirror.

Damn it. She slowed, barely off the bridge. The cop had been sitting there, waiting to welcome drivers onto the island with speeding tickets.

The cruiser slowed to a halt behind her on the shoulder of the road, and she fought to smooth her expression. The officer might let her off with a warning if she didn’t make herself a pain in his ass.

She watched him in her mirrors as he stepped out of his vehicle, revealing himself to be muscular and broad-shouldered, a strikingly masculine vision in dark blue. As he approached her car, her irritation ebbed, giving way to begrudging admiration.

If she had to get pulled over, it might as well be by a hot cop. Silver linings and all that.

After lowering her window, she could hear roadside gravel crunching beneath his boots as he came close and leaned down so she could see his face – sort of.

The sun was glaring behind him, and he wore dark glasses. Still, she could just make out a hint of dark blond stubble on his jaw, as if he was near the end of a long shift. It made her spine tingle.

Her gaze drifted down to his arms. They were thick with muscle, and the left one was wrapped in a sleeve of ink, black designs against golden skin. The intricate tattoos ran from his wrist to his biceps and beyond, disappearing beneath his sleeve.

License and registration please, ma’am.

His voice was steady and leaned toward the deep end of the spectrum. What she really noticed, though, was the way her breath hitched when she heard it. Consciously exhaling, she wracked her mind for the reason. Who did he sound like?

Meanwhile, she opened her purse and her glove box, producing the necessary items.

He stared at her license twice as long as her registration – longer than she could imagine it taking to read the sparse information printed there. Did he think it was a fake, or was the picture just that bad? The DMV photographer had caught her looking dazed whenever she’d procured a South Carolina license after her move back to her home state four months ago.

She barely repressed a snort, her gaze drifting to the small arsenal strung around his hips on a heavy belt. The large gun and silver handcuffs caught her eye in particular.

You were driving twelve miles over the speed limit. Every word he spoke teased her memory, frustrating.

Sorry.

Have you ever had a speeding ticket before?

Once, when I was seventeen. That’d been an entire decade ago.

I remember that.

What? She snapped her gaze from his belt to his face, squinting against the glare of the sun.

Realization hit her with all the force of a speeding freight train. Jackson?

She barely kept her voice from squeaking.

Ms. Morrissey. A grin cracked his stern expression. I had no idea you’d moved back.

"Four months ago. I had no idea you were a cop."

Surprise. Been an officer with the South Island PD for the past four years.

Her head spun with this revelation, and she couldn’t stop staring into those dark glasses, as if she might magically develop x-ray vision and be granted a view of the eyes beneath.

He started scribbling on a pad, and guesses at what he might be writing tumbled through her mind. Could he be giving her his phone number?

She eyed his tattoo sleeve as he wrote. The designs were myriad sea creatures, swirling across his skin in a rush of water. He hadn’t had them all last time she’d seen him, but she remembered a couple – the bare bones of what had become a sleeve.

It suited him.

He stopped writing and handed over a blue slip of paper.

Oh, no. The truth hit her when she saw it.

You’re writing me a ticket? As soon as she asked, she wished she could take it back – the question had come out sounding petulant.

You haven’t had a ticket in ten years; it’s not like you’ll lose your license over this.

She schooled her features, trying to look composed. Admit it – you just want an excuse to see me again, and court is a sure bet.

Her attempt at humor earned her a bark of laughter from Jackson. Or Officer Calder, as he was apparently now known.

You could just pay the ticket. Unless, of course, you want to see me in court.

There’s always the chance, she said, accepting the ticket, that if I take the court date, the officer who wrote the ticket won’t show.

More laughter, rough and somehow rich, however abbreviated. She’d have died if he’d known how her fingertips tingled as she held the ticket he’d written her.

Is that an attempt to bribe an officer of the law?

She sat up straighter in her seat, ignoring the way the seatbelt dug into the space between her breasts, emphasizing the modest amount of cleavage revealed by her sleeveless top. Absolutely not. I didn’t offer you anything.

He was silent for a moment. Well Ms. Morrissey, I guess I’ll see you in court.

She almost told him to drop the formality and call her Belle, as he always had, but bit her tongue at the last second. He had just written her a ticket, after all.

I guess you will, Jackson.

She used his first name on purpose.

By the time he climbed back into his cruiser, her head was spinning. For a few moments, she just sat there on the side of the road, hands motionless on the wheel as her Toyota idled.

What the hell had just happened? And why did she feel excited instead of upset?

* * * * *

Jackson backed his cruiser into its hiding place by the end of the bridge. With Belle gone, he was left to reconcile his shock and excitement over seeing her with the sick sense of frustration that’d followed him to traffic duty.

This was supposed to be a sort of break – a breather – from working calls. He’d come to the bridge after responding to the accident at the intersection of Royal and Bastille. He could still see that woman’s face, pale and freckled beneath the streaking mask of blood. He’d been working this job for four years, but he’d become nauseated as he’d watched EMTs remove her from her car.

He’d gotten there first and had seen the two empty car seats in the back row and the toddler toys strewn across the floor. A sleeve of graham crackers had been tossed into the passenger seat at some point, or maybe it’d already been there when the truck had t-boned her car.

Now, he kept thinking of the kids all that stuff had belonged to. Luckily, they hadn’t been in the car. But that didn’t change the fact that they were going to grow up without a mother.

The crash had broken her neck – she’d been dead when he’d arrived on the scene. She’d been glassy eyed and bloody from where her temple had stricken the window, and he’d realized right away that her mistake had been fatal.

All because she’d been in a hurry and had tried to speed through the intersection as the light had turned red. When people decided the law didn’t apply to them, that was what fucking happened.

So yeah, he’d given Belle a ticket. If it might save her from ending up in a wreck, it was worth it. Seeing that happen to a stranger had been bad enough; the thought of it happening to her had driven him to write that ticket, even as his heart had raced for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.

She might think twice about going over the speed limit now, but she probably thought he was a jackass. He wouldn’t have cared if it’d been anyone else, but it was Belle, the woman he’d been aching to see for years. Her safety was more important than her opinion of him, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like shit.

Should he have let her off with a warning instead? Would she have taken it seriously?

His confidence in his decision wavered, but then he thought of the crash victim’s dead-eyed gaze and his gut clenched.

At the same time, his heart was still beating faster than it had been before he’d stopped her. He might’ve earned her disdain, but that didn’t do a damn thing to alter his feelings toward her. Maybe he’d fucked things up bad, or maybe not.

There was only one way to find out.

* * * * *

316 West Palmetto Street. Jackson approached the row of pale brick apartments, his gaze drawn to the gleam of 316 stamped in brass letters on the front of a ground floor end unit.

The light over the stoop was on, casting the steps in a yellow glow that warded off the dusky August evening. A potted lily every bit as nice as the ones in the bouquet he carried made him look down, examining his purchase.

He knew Belle would like it. She’d always liked lilies. He just didn’t know whether she’d like receiving them from him.

He knocked on her door anyway, standing on the stoop while the florist’s paper crackled over a cellophane sleeve.

When she answered she looked exactly as she had earlier that day: tall and slender, her dark brown hair pinned up in some sort of knot with a few strands left down to frame her face, and eyes of the same color. She still wore the sleeveless blue top and cropped khaki pants, too.

Gloss shone on the prominent Cupid’s bow of her lips, and her collarbones created lovely lines above a hint of cleavage. He didn’t dare look at her long legs clad in those slim-fitting pants.

She’d grown into a woman even more gorgeous than the one he’d known.

Jackson? She stared at him as if she’d have been less surprised if the President of the United States had shown up on her doorstep. What are you doing here?

Brought you a peace offering. He offered her the bouquet of white lilies and little pink and yellow flowers he couldn’t name, all prettier than the proverbial olive branch.

After a couple silent seconds, she took it. Is this about the ticket?

He nodded.

You could’ve just let me off with a warning. She arched a brow, looking first at him and then down at the flowers. Stroking one white petal, she glanced up again.

A sour taste danced on the back of his tongue, but he said nothing about the accident – he didn’t want to talk about it, and it wasn’t her burden to bear anyway.

You could’ve driven at the speed limit.

Touché, Officer Calder. Something flashed in her dark eyes, and he wasn’t quite sure if she was truly angry or only annoyed.

He was rusty when it came to reading her expressions. It’d been six years, after all.

So, I guess you memorized my address from my license?

I have a photographic memory.

Well, I’m flattered. Her voice softened a little, and the gleam in her eyes faded. What are you really doing here?

I wanted to see you without having to write you a ticket. He knew she couldn’t understand why he’d done so, and he wanted to smooth things between them. Especially since their meeting earlier that day had sparked a craving for her presence.

She was a gorgeous woman, and years ago, he’d been the first man to ever feel her long legs wrapped around him. The memory had been haunting him ever since, and he’d wondered about her more times than he could count. Now that she was back home, he couldn’t keep away.

Do you want to come in?

Yes. Can I?

If you promise not to write any tickets.

When she stepped aside to let him in, he caught a lungful of her scent as he passed her. Some citrusy perfume or lotion was the dominating note, but there was also a certain warm cleanness to her smell that brought back memories from years ago.

Nice place. You said you moved here four months ago? The front door opened directly into the kitchen, a modest space outfitted with dark wood cabinets and pale grey countertops that were either real granite or a convincing imitation. The range and fridge looked new, too.

Yeah. It’s pretty small – just one bedroom – but it’s the nicest living space I can afford on the island.

He nodded. While there was reasonably-priced housing to be found on South Island, there were also luxurious homes with staggering views and crippling price tags.

Her apartment didn’t have anything close to a sea view, but the beach was only a short drive away from any point on the island.

You’re renting?

She nodded. Maybe I’ll buy a home here someday. I’ll need a substantial raise first, though.

What do you do? He was full of curiosity he’d rarely known the likes of. Belle, rediscovered after all this time, got under his skin and made him itch to map out her life, to draw out her secrets and basic truths alike.

I’m Assistant Director of Admissions at the Elwood College of Health Sciences.

So you decide who gets in and who doesn’t.

She smiled. I help people achieve their education and career goals.

That gave him pause. When she’d announced her intentions to study business in college years ago, he’d imagined her working in a high rise office somewhere, channeling all her savvy intelligence into a corporate, pantsuited existence.

He glanced again at her soft-looking sleeveless top and cropped pants – clothes nice enough for work in an office during the hot Southern summers, but light enough for a walk on the beach.

You seem surprised. She looked over her shoulder at him as she opened a cupboard and pulled out a vase.

So did you, when we met today.

You never said anything about wanting to be a police officer. She filled the vase with water and unwrapped the bouquet, her slender fingers making the cellophane crackle.

He’d never been one of those kids with a lifelong career dream. He’d been in his twenties when he’d decided to enroll in a local community college to gain a degree in hopes of earning a badge. Took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do. You know how it was – when I was younger, all I could focus on was getting out on my own. The long term was just an afterthought.

She shot him a lingering look he couldn’t quite gauge.

His inability to read her grated.

She was the same woman he’d grown up just a few streets away from, who he’d walked alongside during so many days at the beach. They’d even gone to the same high school, although he’d been two grades ahead of her. And yet, she was different. She’d barely been a woman then; now, she seemed sure of herself. Mature.

It occurred to him that her interest in him might’ve disappeared along with the last of her immaturity. That thought grated too, although there was only one way to find out.

I remember. She arranged the flowers just so, then set the vase in the middle of a round kitchen table with just two chairs. You worked so hard at that construction job. And look at you now – you must’ve worked hard to get this job, too. It’s impressive.

Just like that, she divided him – he was torn between pride and shame. She knew truths about him that he’d chosen to leave in the past. After joining the police force, his relationships with his old childhood and high school friends had slowly disintegrated. In general, he didn’t talk about his life before becoming a cop.

The only part of it he really wanted to think about was the time he’d spent with Belle. That he was pursuing her despite the fact that she knew damn well the people who’d raised him were no better than the people he was prone to arresting now was a testament to just how strong her allure was.

I thought you got a job somewhere out of state after graduating from college, he said. What made you decide to move back? He hadn’t expected to see her again when she hadn’t returned after finishing her education.

They hadn’t had much contact during her last year of college, and none afterward. Keeping in touch while knowing she wasn’t coming home had been too torturous – for him, at least.

Well, there was the job. And I missed this place. I guess you could say I got homesick.

He nodded. When she’d been younger, she’d always loved the best of what the area had to offer: warm beaches and even warmer summer nights.

I worked in Atlanta for several years, she said. I hated living hours from the coast, but I had to take what I could get, looking for a job straight out of college.

So you’re planning to stick around?

I’m home. She touched one of the lilies. Why would I leave again?

I didn’t realize you liked it here so much.

Who wouldn’t? She smiled.

He didn’t quite smile back, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

So what about you? she asked. You’re not going anywhere, are you?

No, I’m not. He’d worked for years to become qualified for his job, and he wasn’t about to give it up. Besides, he loved the coast too – it was home. He’d never had much of a family, but like Belle, he’d always enjoyed the views and amenities the island had to offer: a wealth of natural beauty, great food, warm weather and – for the most part – good people.

Well then, I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other.

You can be sure of it if you keep driving like you were today.

She shot him a wry smile. I was born and raised here. You know I can’t help it. As I recall, you’re just as bad – only now you’ve got a car with sirens and can get away with it.

He shrugged. Perks of the job.

Do you still live on the island?

Got an apartment over on Devoir Street.

She tipped her head to the side. Well, we’re not neighbors, but we’re not too far apart, either.

No, we’re not.

She surveyed him with those dark eyes, and he saw more of the woman he didn’t know: the stranger whose mind he’d once known and body he’d once tasted.

How had she lived during those years in Atlanta – how had she changed?

She shifted her gaze away from him and to the fridge. Would you like a drink?

She sounded breezy, at ease. No longer teasing him.

He took her up on the offer, and she pulled a pitcher from the fridge and poured two glasses of iced tea.

So why are you really here? she asked. Just to catch up, or…

She didn’t finish her sentence.

A wave of heat raced down his spine and swept through the rest of him. He was here for the possibilities she’d left unspoken – here because she drew him as the moon drew the tide.

She always had, and however they’d both changed over the years, that was still the same.

What he needed to know was whether there was any chance of picking up where they’d left off six years ago. Maybe it was a longshot, or maybe not.

He was going to find out.

CHAPTER 2

Belle sat across from Jackson in her kitchen, and it was almost surreal. He’d walked in as if they’d never been apart, presenting the bouquet of lilies and accepting a glass of sweet tea in exchange. His company wasn’t unpleasant, but she knew it wasn’t without reason, either.

Whether that reason was the one she suspected, she needed to find out.

I haven’t seen you in years. He answered her question, his blue eyes locked with hers. It was nice to see them, unhidden by the glasses he’d worn earlier today with his uniform. I’ve wondered about you more times than I can count.

A frisson zipped down her spine, all the more intense for his honesty. It was good to see that his frankness wasn’t a quality he’d lost. She’d always liked that about him.

I’ve wondered about you too, she said. It’s nice to see you again. I wasn’t even sure if you were still living on the island.

One corner of his mouth twitched, whether in the beginning of a smile or a frown, there was no telling.

I’ve been here my whole life – never left.

Did you have to go to college to become a cop?

Yeah, I got an associate’s degree in police science. I did that at the community college, though, right here on the island. He settled back a little farther in his chair, his broad shoulders rising and falling beneath a blue t-shirt that clung to them. Did he know how good he looked in that color?

She almost asked, then bit her tongue.

It would’ve been so easy to slip into a teasing banter with him. But the last time they’d been together he’d only been twenty-three. Closer to thirty now, he’d matured into a man she didn’t really know. A gorgeous man, sexier than ever. It took effort, but she curbed the temptation to be too impulsive or flirtatious.

After all, she’d grown too. She wasn’t twenty-one anymore, and she wasn’t going to throw herself at a man she barely knew.

Not even Jackson, the Hot Cop Extraordinaire who she’d once considered a friend and had already slept with.

And you said you’ve been working for the South Island Police Department for four years? God, thinking back to him in uniform earlier that day gave her hot flashes.

He nodded.

You like the job?

Love it.

She could hear the honesty in his voice, and it made her smile. It must be an exciting career. In comparison, mine seems pretty boring. I enjoy it though, so I’m not sure what that says about me.

Light gleamed in his eyes. You’re very interesting to me.

Heat burnt high on her cheeks, and she had no doubt he could see the resulting blush. For the first time that night, she felt embarrassed. Last time they’d seen each other, they’d slept together. Was he hoping she’d be willing to jump into bed again?

The look in his eyes was worth a thousand words – a thousand dirty words, if she was reading him right. Her body warmed beneath his gaze, and her skin tingled.

I’m flattered, but I may not be quite as interesting as you remember. I’m less impulsive, for one. And… She shifted in her seat. It was awkward to talk about, but if he had the wrong idea about what she’d been offering by inviting him inside, she needed to set the record straight.

A ghost of a frown crossed his handsome face. I didn’t mean to insult you. I didn’t think— Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking at all when I decided to show up here, if I’m being honest. I’ve been wondering about you for years, and seeing you today got me all worked up. Sorry if my showing up here was too much.

It’s okay.

Maybe I should’ve asked first, but I had my dashcam running, and that would’ve broken a few rules.

Unlike memorizing someone’s address and showing up on their doorstep? She arched a brow, unable to resist teasing.

He shrugged, his lips twitching. I took a chance, no doubt about it – now I can only hope you won’t report me.

You don’t have to worry about that. It was a surprise, but I really am glad to see you. I’m just not sure what you’re expecting, considering how things went last time we were together.

The heat in her cheeks burnt steadily. Just saying last time out loud made her heart skip a beat. Several years had passed, but the memories from that night still gave her an electric thrill every time she thought back. Jackson had been her first and was still the only man she’d ever slept with who hadn’t disappointed her at some point afterward.

A cynical voice in the back of her mind told her that that was probably only because she hadn’t given him a chance to. She’d left the island the next day and hadn’t come back, with the exception of the occasional weekend home to visit her parents.

She hadn’t sought him out on those occasions – it would’ve been too hard to leave the island after seeing him. Atlanta hadn’t been her first choice, but she’d needed the job she’d landed in the city. There hadn’t been any job openings she’d been qualified for on the island – she’d checked.

He pressed a hand against the table top, still frowning. Belle, I didn’t come here to ask for anything you don’t want to give or to make you uncomfortable. But surely you can understand why I’m interested in you.

She shrugged, shifting her gaze beyond him as butterflies came to life in the pit of her belly. Because I—

Because I had you once, and I never forgot it. I’d wanted you for years before that night. Now you come back more beautiful than ever, and it’s all I can think about. I know we’ve both changed. I won’t blame you if you don’t want now what you wanted years ago, but I’ve gotta try.

His words struck her dumb. By the time she found her tongue, her heart was racing.

From any other man, the words wouldn’t have been so powerful. But he’d been her first, and there was no denying that he was by far the most attractive man she’d ever been with. The combination threw her off kilter in a way no one had for a long time.

Thank you, and it’s not like that – you’re still very appealing to me. It’s been a long time though and now that I’m home for good, I don’t want to make any decisions I might regret later. There won’t be any escaping them if I do.

His frown returned. I see.

The way his eyes darkened tripped some sensor inside her, and her heart sank.

Too late, she realized how what she’d said had sounded.

I didn’t mean for that to sound so rude. She set down her tea, searching his eyes for some hint that he understood. I’m sorry.

Don’t apologize. You were always smart Belle, and you still are. I get it.

She sensed him pulling away from her, even before he pushed his chair back.

Jackson. She stood without thinking, pushing back her own seat. Don’t leave just because I put my foot in my mouth.

Guilt swept through her. Why had she said something so dumb?

He met her eyes, a wry smile flickering into place. Don’t worry, my feelings aren’t that fragile – I just don’t want to intrude. I took a chance showing up uninvited, and I can tell I’m making you uncomfortable. I hoped this would go a little more smoothly. Sorry I ruined your day.

It takes a lot more than a speeding ticket to ruin my day. Now it was her turn to smile, even if she sensed he was acting tougher than he really felt. I’m not seventeen anymore.

She’d cried when she’d gotten her first ticket, which had happened long enough ago to seem funny now.

He nodded. That’s for damn sure. Night, Belle.

I feel like I’m rushing you out – you really don’t have to go.

Tell you what: I wrote my number on the card in that bouquet. If you decide you want to get together, give me a call and we can choose a place and time.

She agreed, and in that moment, the years melted away. She couldn’t see the man in uniform who’d pulled her over that day, or even the man who’d shown up on her doorstep that night with flowers. She saw Jackson, young and familiar: the man who could nearly stop her inexperienced heart with a look.

She didn’t want to say goodnight, but she did, and the moment passed.

A near stranger again, he left her alone with the lilies and a restless feeling that stayed with her throughout the night and lingered well past sunrise.

* * * * *

Jackson disliked working traffic. So many bad drivers called the island home or visited from the mainland that writing tickets was like shooting fish in a barrel, especially during the busy summer tourist season. On mornings when he knew he’d be assigned a post monitoring traffic, he stopped at the Tempest Café for breakfast.

It was a busy little place built of clapboard they claimed had been salvaged from a wrecked ship more than a century ago. Whether or not that was true, the place had been granted a plaque by the city’s historical society, and it swelled with tourists around lunchtime. At a quarter after five in the morning, though, it was nearly empty.

He took his usual seat at the far end of the breakfast counter, where he could easily observe anyone who came and went. He’d barely sat down when a familiar voice called from the kitchen.

Jackson, my favorite customer. A short twenty-something brunette in a red apron sprang into view, a big smile in place.

Ashley always made