Chapter One

Every day she saw him.

Since his arrival in Kembleford there was not a day Emma Kennedy didn't clap eyes on the man. Not by her choice, mind you. It's just that he was there and she was there. Inspector Thomas Sullivan had been renting a room in her B&B since he blew into town a year ago. Every day she waited for him to tell her he was moving on, whether from Kembleford or just from her house she never knew. From the moment she first saw him she knew he'd be trouble. Something in his eyes, a coldness. It warned her to steer clear. His manners and demeanor were even more icy than his eyes, and so it was easy to stay away.

At first.

As he settled into life in Kembleford he seemed to warm a bit, and day after day he never left. Hers was the home he returned to at the end of every day, and it seemed to her that he was just fine with that. Sometimes in the evening he would nod as he passed by her before disappearing into his room. Most times though, she was in bed by the time his car rumbled into the drive in the wee hours of the night.

Sometimes in the morning he'd stop for a cup of coffee, but never breakfast. He would gruffly remark on the weather. When you see someone daily it is only natural to ponder on them. It's only natural when they cross your mind. A year had gone by and Emma realized she knew next to nothing about Inspector Sullivan, bar what she'd observed with her own two eyes or heard in passing from the local gossips. And she had begun to wonder who he was.

Who he really was. The person he relaxed into when he didn't have to be inspector.

He was on her mind a lot lately. She huffed to herself, she doubted she'd ever even crossed his mind. After all this time she probably just blended in to him. Just another piece of outdated furniture in the B&B.

Yes, she was sure that was exactly how he saw her.

Tom threw his jacket over his arm and tried to be quiet as he slipped into the B&B. It was late, and he didn't want to disturb Mrs. Kennedy. Emma, he silently corrected himself. He'd stayed at the office finishing paperwork so that Goodfellow could have an early night. The light in the kitchen was still on, odd. Not odd enough to divert him from his course though.

He was halfway up the stairs when a loud banging and a feminine shriek came echoing from downstairs. He tossed his jacket over the banister and headed to investigate.

"Mrs. Kennedy?" he cursed himself, "Emma?"

He found the woman at the sink running her hand under water. Her red hair was pinned immaculately into a bun. She was wearing a light blue apron. Something he was accustomed to seeing her wear.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

She jumped, "Inspector Sullivan. I didn't hear you come in." she blanched, "Or did I wake you?"

The corner of his mouth curved up in amusement at her Irish accent. "No, no. I'm only just arriving." he said.

He looked at the palm of her hand as she pulled it from the water. Pink blisters were already forming from what he assumed by the dropped tray of scones was a bad burn.

"What happened?" he asked.

"The cloth slipped as I was taking them out of the oven." she winced and stuck her hand back under the water.

"Right. Do you have any first aid items?"

Emma pointed to a cabinet and Tom fetched what was needed. He rolled up his sleeves and took her arm in his hands.

"This will probably hurt." he warned.

Emma gritted her teeth and nodded for him to continue. She glanced over into his icy eyes. He cleaned the burn and applied aloe before wrapping it lightly.

"Thank you." she told him.

"Of course." he answered curtly. "Take care. Goodnight." he handed her the first aid box and turned to go upstairs.

In an instant he was gone and Emma wondered if he was ever really there, or if it was all in her head.

Inspector Sullivan tossed his jacket down on the blue chair in his room. He sat on the bed and raked a hand through his perfectly styled hair. It had been a day. Topped off by finding his landlady in distress in the kitchen. He couldn't just leave her there. Well, he could have. A year ago he would have. However, seeing her face every day for the past year had made him develop a soft spot for her.

Her face was kind, and she had a sweet smile. She was hardworking, and doing it all on her own as far as he could tell. Yes, he'd noticed the ring on her finger long ago. There was no husband about though. Sullivan figured he probably died in the war. A lot of men died in the war. He shuddered. Cold memories threatened to come alive inside his mind. He shut them out.

Instead he turned his thoughts back to the pretty red haired woman downstairs. He wasn't sure if that was any safer, but he did know that thinking of her didn't rip him to shreds inside. That was the closest he'd been to her...ever. The closest he had been to any woman in a long time.

He shed his clothes and started the shower. Hot water was what he needed after this long and tiring day. He often thought of Emma. He wondered what her bedroom looked like. Did the decor match the rest of the rooms here, or was it something different? Did she ever unpin her hair? How long was it? How did she take her tea? When you see someone daily, but know nothing about them it is only natural that these thoughts come to you.

At least that's what he told himself as he replayed their encounter a million times.

Downstairs Emma sat herself down in a chair and stared at her hand wondering what just happened. Tonight, Inspector Sullivan had a conversation with her for the first time since the day he checked in. He'd even bandaged her wound. And now more than ever she found herself wondering who he really was.

When he walked up those stairs and shed his shirt and kicked off his shoes, who was he? Did he pour a drink or read a book? Did he take a shower or fall into bed and sleep? Did he sit in the blue lounge chair and do paperwork? Emma knew these things were entirely none of her business, but sometimes a girl just wonders.

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