“Just trying to convince Ms. Boudreau to go to the hospital and get this checked out,” Levi said, giving Em a significant look.

Em glanced over her shoulder at Jack. “I think this belongs to you,” she said to him, then looked back at Scarlett O’Hara.

And like Scarlett, Hadley Boudreau had a way with men and a calculating look in her eye.

“I think my pride’s hurt more than anything else, Chief Cooper. Jack, I was driving past and saw your truck, figured I’d catch you and then the next thing I knew, I’m ass over teakettles here on the ground.”

“Imagine that,” Jack said, his tone sawdust-dry.

Good for him.

Hadley started to move, then pursed her cherry lips in pain.

Em tried not to roll her eyes. She wondered how long it had taken Hadley to arrange herself so just the right amount of thigh was showing. “Can you put any weight on it?” she asked.

“Oh, Chief!” Hadley said. “I heard you’re married to Jack’s sister! She’s the sweetest thing. I always thought of her as a kindred spirit.”

Em sure as hell hoped not, for Levi’s sake. She clicked on her radio. “Gerard, get your lazy ass out here. We have a casualty in the parking lot.”

“Roger that,” Gerard said.

Hadley sliced a look Em’s way. “I don’t mean to inconvenience anyone,” she said, an edge to her perfectly lovely husky voice.

“They’re right here. No inconvenience at all,” Emmaline said.

“I just need a hand up. Jack? I feel like an idiot already—don’t make me lie here all the livelong day.”

“Let’s wait for the professionals,” Jack said.

The door opened, and Gerard ambled out. Then, catching sight of a fallen and very beautiful female, he accelerated into a gallop. “What’ve we got here?” he asked, kneeling next to Hadley.

“Might need to be amputated,” Emmaline said. Levi raised an eyebrow at her. Right. She was in uniform and was therefore required to be nice to idiots.

“I just need a little help,” Hadley said. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful paramedic, Mr. Chartier—” Gerard’s name was stitched on his jacket “—but Jack and I used to be married. He can help me.” Her tone was firm and friendly.

Jack sighed and went over. Emmaline followed. “Up you go,” he said, offering his hand to his ex-wife.

“Maybe if you didn’t wear three-inch heels in the snow, you wouldn’t trip,” Emmaline observed.

“A lady always wears heels,” she said, seizing Jack’s hand. He pulled her up, and she collapsed against him. He caught her right on cue.

“Oh, dang,” she said, tears filling her big brown eyes. She gave an awkward hop.

“That looks pretty bad,” Gerard said. “Definitely a sprain, judging from the bruising. Let me take you to the hospital for an X-ray.”

“No, no, it’s just a sprain. Um...Jack, I hate to ask, but would you mind driving me home?”

“Yeah, Jack. Would you mind?” Emmaline echoed.

He gave her a look.

“Get an X-ray,” Levi said.

“No, no, I’ll just get on home and pop it up on some pillows. Ice, compression, elevation, right, Mr. Chartier?”

“Call me Gerard. And, yes, exactly,” Gerard said, smiling at her like a proud teacher. The guy was such a flirt. “Throw in some Motrin and call it a day.”

Well, Em had to give it to Hadley. Anyone could fake a fall in a parking lot. It took real commitment to actually injure yourself.

Hadley deigned to glance at her, and Em saw the gleam there. And Hadley knew she saw it, based on the twitch of lips. Watch, listen and learn, Yankee. This is how it’s done.

“This is downright embarrassing,” Hadley said, “but I think you’re gonna have to carry me to the car, Jack.”

Jack sighed and picked her up.

Em had the impression there would be many more sprained ankles in Hadley’s future. “Have fun,” she said, starting for her car.

“Em, wait,” Jack said. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Oh, no, you should take care of Blanche DuBois here.”

“It’s Hadley,” the other woman said sweetly.

“Em—” Jack began.

“I don’t really want to have a conversation around the body in your arms,” she said. “Have fun, kids.”

* * *

BECAUSE THE OPERA HOUSE didn’t have an elevator, Jack ended up carrying Hadley up the stairs.

“I really do appreciate this, Jack,” she said as he set her down. She leaned against the door frame and got her keys out. “I guess I just forgot how dang slippery it gets around here. Oh, well.” She smiled and opened the door. “Would you mind just coming in for a second? I did want to talk to you, after all. And maybe you could grab me an ice pack. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you. Really, Jack.”

Right. If her ankle hadn’t been bruised, he would’ve thought she’d staged the whole thing. It was right up her alley; she’d once confessed to him (while in bed) that she’d crashed her bike on purpose to get the attention of a football player in college.

She hobbled inside, and Jack closed his eyes for a minute, then followed. He couldn’t just dump her here, as much as he might want to.

Sharon and Jim Stiles kept this apartment for people just like Hadley, folks who’d be in town for a few months at a time. Faith had rented it out when she’d first moved back from San Francisco, and Colleen’s husband had stayed here over the summer when his uncle was sick. It was a cute little place, furnished and stocked with china and glasses and that sort of thing.

Way too easy for Hadley to make herself at home.

“It’s so good to be back here,” she said as he opened the freezer and grabbed a bag of peas, since she didn’t seem to have an ice pack. “Frankie came up last weekend, and we were both real sorry you weren’t around.”

“I was away with Emmaline,” he said.

Hadley jerked, then recovered. “Is that right,” she murmured, sweeping her hair around to one side. She smiled as he handed her the peas. “Thank you, Jack. Um, would you mind getting a bandage? I think there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

He said nothing but obeyed. The bathroom counter was laden with little baskets filled with bottles of perfume, makeup and other girlie stuff.

Looked like she was planning to stay awhile.

He grabbed the kit and a bottle of Motrin and went back to the living room. “Here you go. I have to run,” he said.

“Do you think you could wrap my ankle?” she said. “I’m sorry, I just...I’m clumsy. As you could tell, I guess. I feel so stupid. Bad enough to be the town pariah. Now I’m the clumsy town pariah.” Her expression was rueful.

“You’re not a pariah,” he said.

“If you say so. I’ve been getting dirty looks since I moved back.”

Moved back. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“Which I guess is what I deserve.”

He sat down next to her, and she reached under her skirt and pulled off her stocking with a businesslike motion, which surprised him. He would’ve expected a striptease. Her skin was cold and smooth, the joint fairly swollen. He felt a pang of sympathy.