All In

Regardless of how very right his impulsive decision to kiss Juliet had felt in the moment, during the moment, and long after the moment, Carlton would nevertheless have expected to feel, at the very least, flustered.

Hm.

Nope.

Not flustered.

Not even so much as a hint of panic.

Which in and of itself, should have flustered him.

But nope.

Not at all.

It probably helped that the immediate aftermath of the kiss had been occupied with further work on their case and then today, he'd been physically separated from Juliet by the long-planned day trip up to Sacramento with Karen. Which, combined with the lack of panic or fluster, actually gave him a golden opportunity.

"Why did you transfer Lucinda Barry?"

Karen glanced up from fastening her seat belt, her gaze wide and clearly startled. "Excuse me?"

He secured both of their briefcases in the overhead compartment, then settled into the seat beside her, fastening his own belt. Knowing full well she'd heard his initial question, he merely elaborated. "While relationships between partners are discouraged, for obvious reasons, there is no specific dictate forbidding them. How one is handled is basically left up to the commanding officer so I'm curious—" He regarded her calmly over the bottle of water he'd bought before they boarded. "Why did you transfer her?"

For a moment, he thought she wouldn't answer. But where he might have once approached the topic aggressively or belligerently—all but guaranteeing she would shut him down with a curt, "Because I'm the boss," dismissal—he'd instead made his request in a deceptively reasonable manner far likelier to at least elicit consideration. A trick he'd seen Juliet utilize time and again over the years and one that generally garnered results.

One really could not accuse him of an inability to learn.

Slowly twisting the cap off her own water, Karen took a long drink. Buying time. Lowering the bottle, she met his gaze. "It's been seven years, Carlton. Why ask now? Have you heard from her?"

He shook his head. "Not a word. And really, this has less to do with her, specifically, than with the situation."

Understanding lit Karen's dark gaze. This was why he liked working under her so much. Rarely was there ever a need to waste time needlessly explaining the obvious. He wouldn't have been able to admit that seven years ago—maybe not even now, at least out loud—but he also knew it wasn't anything he needed to spell out. Part of what made her such a damned good Chief.

Slipping the bottle into the seat back pocket, she crossed her arms and studied him. With a small nod, as if deciding, she said, "One, you were the standing Head Detective while I was the brand new Chief of Police and only interim at that. Considering the exposure of your relationship directly corresponded with my hiring Spencer for the first time, I knew we were on thin ice and the basis of our working relationship going forward, not to mention how I was regarded by the department as a whole would in large part be based on how I handled the situation."

"You could have transferred me out," he suggested reasonably. "Especially considering how little you thought of me."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. I may not have always been crazy about your techniques, but I did not think badly of you. You're a damned fine detective, Carlton—one reason transferring you was out of the question."

"There was another?"

"It would've had the appearance that in order to maintain control, I had to get rid of the detective who imagined I'd stolen his job." A half-smile with absolutely no humor curved her mouth. "That move might work for a man, but from a woman, it carries all the hallmarks of weakness. I had to take a stand—and even if you hated me for it, I knew in time, provided you didn't quit outright, you'd at least respect me." One eyebrow rose. "I had no need to have you like me, but I absolutely needed your respect."

He recalled those first months of her tenure—how she was quick to stomp down his natural aggression and arrogance and put him in his place. She hadn't always been right—and he hadn't hesitated to point out when he thought she wasn't—but she had been right to do it. Not that he'd ever admit to that either—at least not out loud.

"You said 'one.' That would imply that there's a 'two.'"

At that moment, the pilot's tinny voice piped through the speakers, dispensing the usual information about takeoff, flight times, and weather conditions, followed by the safety demonstration by the flight attendants and almost immediately afterward, the beverage service. Fortified with a with a whisky for himself and a white wine for Karen, Carlton sat back.

"So," he said, staring down into the amber liquid. "Two."

"Two," Karen repeated on a sigh. "Well, two had to do directly with Lucinda herself." She took a sip of wine and set the glass on her tray table. "You have to understand, Carlton, I weighed her needs more heavily than yours both because of her position as a relatively new detective and as a woman on the force."

He took a sip of whisky and waited.

"I gave her two options—she could stay on the squad, assigned to a different partner, or she could transfer out altogether."

Carlton nodded slowly. "She chose transfer out altogether, of course."

"No, not 'of course.'" The sharpness of Karen's tone was the second moment in their conversation thus far to take him by surprise—the first being the revelation that she hadn't initially hated him. "She chose to transfer for a few reasons. She knew even if we never hired Spencer again, he was of the type to never let public knowledge of your relationship die—especially once he saw how much it rattled you."

Karen shook her head as she lifted her glass for another drink. "Boy, she figured him out in a hurry—realized he got some kind of twisted charge out of yanking your chain and she knew you were likely to ruin your career, probably by shooting him."

Carlton couldn't disagree with that assessment. Considering how close it had come a few times, even with Lucinda no longer in the picture.

She always had been a smart girl.

"Along those same lines, she didn't want to have to deal with the constant gossip and sexual innuendo following the revelation of your relationship. What little she got was bad enough—coupled with Spencer's adolescent inability to let it go because of the antagonism between you, I'm sure it seemed like it would be an untenable situation."

He sighed as he sipped his drink. Really, he should have shot the asshat years ago. Or at the very least, stood up for Lucinda better. But objectively speaking, he really hadn't been in a position to do so, riddled with guilt at the fact that he was technically cheating on Victoria, regardless of how long they'd been separated at that point, and still harboring hope, faint and futile though it might have been, that they might eventually reconcile.

Karen wasn't kidding about thin ice—on multiple levels.

"The main reason, though, she transferred out, was because she absolutely did not want another partner."

"Come again?"

Karen's lips thinned slightly then with another one of those small, decisive nods slowly began, "I wouldn't begin to presume how important your personal relationship was to her, but what she was exceedingly clear about was her career. She wanted to be the best detective possible and to her, that meant working with the best. At the SBPD, that was you—if she couldn't have you, then her preference was to be transferred to another department where she might eventually have another shot at being partnered with the best."

Her head tilted as she regarded him. "I can't say I disagreed with that assessment." After another sip of wine she asked, "She never told you?"

Carlton shook his head as he drained his glass. "Not about having a choice in the matter, no."

She'd just quietly informed him she was being transferred—up to Sacramento as a matter of fact—and mired in guilt and anger, he'd simply accepted it as just another one of Karen's militaristic dictates. Punishment for his transgressions he was only too happy to accept, given he himself had considered it as a huge black mark against his own high standards, both professionally and personally.

Funny it hadn't even occurred to him to look her up while in Sacramento, not even to say hello. That chapter of his life had long been over and he had no real interest in revisiting it. It was as he'd told Karen—his recall of those days had less to do with Lucinda than it had to do with the situation itself.

They'd begun their descent when Karen finally spoke again.

"What do I need to know?"

Carlton was prepared. "I'm seriously considering pursuing a relationship with O'Hara. I do not, however, want it to have a negative impact on her career. If there is any possibility that might happen, my letter of resignation will be on your desk Monday morning."

Once again, Karen fell silent—with shock, Carlton imagined—not speaking again until they'd landed and were taxiing toward the terminal.

"Provided professional and personal are kept in their proper places, I… would have no substantial reason to separate you. The two of you are a formidable team and I certainly can't imagine any scenario in which it would be in the department's best interests to separate you in any way."

He exhaled, the only real tension he'd carried since the kiss draining away with her statement.

As the plane eased to a stop and the doors opened, Karen said, "You said considering pursuing a relationship—am I to infer that nothing has happened yet?"

Carlton stood to retrieve their briefcases, appreciating once again how Karen so easily read between the lines and zeroed in on what was most relevant to the topic at hand. No unnecessary questions about Marlowe because she'd know it would have already been addressed for him to have even reached this point.

"Something has happened," he replied calmly. "Something I initiated. What's going to happen next and when, I'm not entirely certain, but I am reasonably sure she wouldn't be averse to at least considering the idea."

Not for the first time did he find himself wondering who the hell this Carlton was—the Carlton who was certain Juliet wouldn't run screaming at the prospect of a relationship. The Carlton who'd known the time was finally right to kiss Juliet and had done so with a confidence rarely ever experienced within his personal life. The Carlton who could calmly approach his boss and basically offer up his career if necessary in exchange for the possibility of a relationship with Juliet O'Hara.

Karen nodded as she accepted her briefcase and stepped past him into the aisle. Once in the terminal, she fell into step alongside him and asked, "And Spencer?"

He shrugged. "A bridge we'll cross should we happen to come to it."

"He'll be worse this time," she warned. "The stakes are far more personal."

"Yes. They are."

The walked in companionable silence out to the parking garage. At her car, he waited while she unlocked the door and tossed her briefcase into the passenger seat. She paused with her hand on the door frame and met his gaze. "I suspect I don't have to tell you this, but where Spencer's concerned, please, be careful." She grinned, but it was shadowed with an obvious concern. "We both know he won't take it well and God only knows what idiocy he'll concoct to try to get at you. Don't provide me with any reason to have to take action—at least, not against you."

Carlton returned her grin. "I have no intention of it."

His smile faded as he recalled the feel of Juliet's mouth, her tongue stroking his, tentative at first, tasting of surprise, then more boldly the longing obvious and intoxicating, her hands sliding up his chest, to his shoulders and finally finding purchase in his hair, holding him close. That split-second impulse—that kiss that had lasted scarcely a minute—had cracked open the door to a future he'd long since ceased believing could ever become a reality.

"It's like you said, Karen—this time, the stakes are far higher."