Night Whispers Read Free Page B

knew or who knew them or who simply walked by. It began to amuse Sloan that several women had walked by more than once and that their smiles were becoming increasingly blatant and aimed directly at Jess.
    It amused her, but it didn't surprise her. Jess Jessup had that effect on women no matter what he was wearing, but when he was in uniform, he looked as if he belonged in a Hollywood film, playing the part of the handsome, tough, charismatic cop. He had curly black hair, a flashing smile, a scar above his eyebrow that gave him a dangerous, rakish look, and a thoroughly incongruous dimple in one cheek that could soften his features to boyishness.
    He'd come to Bell Harbor a year ago, after spending seven years in Miami with the Dade County Police Department. Fed up with big city crime and big city traffic, he'd tossed a sleeping bag and change of clothes into his Jeep one weekend and driven north from Miami. With no particular destination in mind except a pretty stretch of beach, he found himself in Bell Harbor . After two days, he'd decided the little city was truly "home."
    He applied for a position on Bell Harbor 's police force and unhesitatingly left Miami behind, along with the seniority and pension he'd earned while he was there. Competent, witty, and energetic, he was nearly as popular with his colleagues on Bell Harbor 's police force as he was with the city's female population.
    Everyone at the department teased him about the increased number of emergency calls from "damsels in distress" that inevitably came in from his particular patrol area. The duty roster changed every three months, and wherever Jess's new assignment placed him, it was inevitable that the calls from ladies would begin to increase.
    Everyone, from the secretaries to the desk sergeants, teased him about his attractiveness to women, and to his credit, he showed neither annoyance nor vanity. If it hadn't been for the fact that the women Jess dated were all tall, willowy, and beautiful, Sloan would have believed he was oblivious to looks, his own or anyone else's.
    At the moment, a redhead and two of her friends had concluded a brief huddle and were now heading straight toward their table. Sloan saw them and so did Jess. "Your fan club approaches," she joked. "They've worked out a plan."
    To her amusement, Jess actually tried to deter them by turning his head away from them and toward Sara's tent. "It looks like Sara has a customer," he said with unnecessary intensity, peering at that tent. "Isn't that Mrs. Peale with her? I should probably go over there and say hello."
    "Nice try," Sloan teased. "But if you stand up and leave, they'll either follow you or wait for you. They have that glazed, determined look that women get when you're around."
    "You don't," he said irritably, startling Sloan and then making her laugh.
    All three women were in their late twenties, attractive, with sleek, tanned bodies that were so perfect and voluptuous that Sloan was struck with admiration. The redhead was the spokesperson for the group, and her first words made it obvious they already knew Jess. "Hi, Jess. We decided you looked lonely over here."
    "Really?" he said with a noncommittal smile.
    At closer range, it was apparent that they were all wearing a lot of makeup, and Sloan mentally adjusted their ages to early thirties.
    "Really," the redhead said brightly, giving him a long, intense look that would have made Sloan blush if she'd tried it. When he didn't seem to react to the invitation in her gaze, she tried a more practical tack. "It's such a relief to know you're the one on patrol in our neighborhood now."
    "Why is that?" he asked with a smiling perversity that Sloan had seen him use to discourage women before.
    All three women looked startled but undiscouraged. "There's a crazy man on the loose," one of them reminded him unnecessarily, referring to the wave of burglaries that had left several elderly women savagely beaten and near death in their homes.
    "Women