off tomorrow, but I need you on this one, Bill. I trust you. The boy has a gun, and I need my best people. You’re my best.”
She smiled at the thought that he needed her.
“Thanks, Jack. I know that. I’ll be ready.”
“Bill, get a good night’s sleep. You’ll be fine in the morning.” His voice was little gruff, his verbal scrub on her head. He hung up, and she was alone again.
* * * *
She slept heavily and woke up out of sorts, her mind still foggy as she stepped into the shower.
She dressed in her uniform and headed for the kitchen, smelling fresh coffee and Michael. She’d started to like the light scent of his aftershave.
The kitchen was empty, but she could see him in her front yard throwing a ball for Ralph and Bruno. She wondered how it was they’d been faithful to her for five years, and suddenly they were rolling over and playing dead for some stranger, letting him rub their bellies?
He seemed to have a similar effect on her too. Although she had no desire to play dead, she wouldn’t mind him rubbing her…
Disgusted with herself, she turned away grabbed eggs out of the fridge and started to make French toast.
*
Michael walked in with Ralph and Bruno padding quietly behind him. He watched her quick, deft movements as she prepared breakfast, and his heart thudded loud and regular against his rib cage. His thoughts centered on the woman in front of him. Once again he felt a slow buildup of desire stir. He didn’t try to force it down this time, didn’t want to quash it, he wanted to see where it might take him—and her.
He’d wanted to get her on her own ever since he’d met her, but it had proved impossible. It seemed her brothers and cousins conspired to protect her for some stupid reason. He suspected she didn’t need protecting.
Every time she caught him watching her, a pretty blush would appear on her high cheekbones, and she would look away in confusion, as though she didn’t quite know what to say to him. Her reaction confused him too. One minute she was loud and confident, the next she looked as though she wanted to run and hide.
He’d gotten her on her own now, though. She couldn’t hide this time.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“I thought it was your day off. I was going to see if you wanted to go for that run we spoke about, but I see you have your uniform on.”
“Yeah, something came up late last night.”
“The guy with the shotgun. Jack mentioned him, but I didn’t know you would be going in.”
“That’s my job.” She nodded in the direction of the coffeemaker. “Help yourself to more coffee.”
He wandered over, poured them both a mug, dumped milk in his, and sugar in hers and then sat at the kitchen table expectantly.
She slid a plate in front of him.
“French toast.”
“Cheers.”
She placed brown sugar, maple syrup, sprinkles, and cinnamon on the table. He felt his heart start to race at the thought of the sugar rush she was trying to invoke that might just kill him.
“If you’ve got tomato sauce—that would be good.”
She slapped it on the table in front of him and sat down to her own French toast, delicately sprinkling on brown sugar and cinnamon.
“Too much sugar. You’re going to send yourself into a coma.” He nodded at her plate. She ignored him and ate.
He hadn’t realized he was hungry and made short work of cleaning his own plate as they ate in silence. He put his knife and fork neatly alongside each other, offsetting them slightly to the right. She gave him an uncertain smile as he stared at her. His heart rate wasn’t as slow and steady as it should have been—perhaps the sugar rush wasn’t needed.
“You know I had the idea that I was going to get you naked after we’d had a run. We would have been all hot and sweaty, and I could have helped you strip.”
The smile froze on her face. She stopped chewing the French toast as she gaped back at him. Taking a slug of coffee she swallowed hard.
“Jesus, Michael, you
She smiled at the thought that he needed her.
“Thanks, Jack. I know that. I’ll be ready.”
“Bill, get a good night’s sleep. You’ll be fine in the morning.” His voice was little gruff, his verbal scrub on her head. He hung up, and she was alone again.
* * * *
She slept heavily and woke up out of sorts, her mind still foggy as she stepped into the shower.
She dressed in her uniform and headed for the kitchen, smelling fresh coffee and Michael. She’d started to like the light scent of his aftershave.
The kitchen was empty, but she could see him in her front yard throwing a ball for Ralph and Bruno. She wondered how it was they’d been faithful to her for five years, and suddenly they were rolling over and playing dead for some stranger, letting him rub their bellies?
He seemed to have a similar effect on her too. Although she had no desire to play dead, she wouldn’t mind him rubbing her…
Disgusted with herself, she turned away grabbed eggs out of the fridge and started to make French toast.
*
Michael walked in with Ralph and Bruno padding quietly behind him. He watched her quick, deft movements as she prepared breakfast, and his heart thudded loud and regular against his rib cage. His thoughts centered on the woman in front of him. Once again he felt a slow buildup of desire stir. He didn’t try to force it down this time, didn’t want to quash it, he wanted to see where it might take him—and her.
He’d wanted to get her on her own ever since he’d met her, but it had proved impossible. It seemed her brothers and cousins conspired to protect her for some stupid reason. He suspected she didn’t need protecting.
Every time she caught him watching her, a pretty blush would appear on her high cheekbones, and she would look away in confusion, as though she didn’t quite know what to say to him. Her reaction confused him too. One minute she was loud and confident, the next she looked as though she wanted to run and hide.
He’d gotten her on her own now, though. She couldn’t hide this time.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“I thought it was your day off. I was going to see if you wanted to go for that run we spoke about, but I see you have your uniform on.”
“Yeah, something came up late last night.”
“The guy with the shotgun. Jack mentioned him, but I didn’t know you would be going in.”
“That’s my job.” She nodded in the direction of the coffeemaker. “Help yourself to more coffee.”
He wandered over, poured them both a mug, dumped milk in his, and sugar in hers and then sat at the kitchen table expectantly.
She slid a plate in front of him.
“French toast.”
“Cheers.”
She placed brown sugar, maple syrup, sprinkles, and cinnamon on the table. He felt his heart start to race at the thought of the sugar rush she was trying to invoke that might just kill him.
“If you’ve got tomato sauce—that would be good.”
She slapped it on the table in front of him and sat down to her own French toast, delicately sprinkling on brown sugar and cinnamon.
“Too much sugar. You’re going to send yourself into a coma.” He nodded at her plate. She ignored him and ate.
He hadn’t realized he was hungry and made short work of cleaning his own plate as they ate in silence. He put his knife and fork neatly alongside each other, offsetting them slightly to the right. She gave him an uncertain smile as he stared at her. His heart rate wasn’t as slow and steady as it should have been—perhaps the sugar rush wasn’t needed.
“You know I had the idea that I was going to get you naked after we’d had a run. We would have been all hot and sweaty, and I could have helped you strip.”
The smile froze on her face. She stopped chewing the French toast as she gaped back at him. Taking a slug of coffee she swallowed hard.
“Jesus, Michael, you
Similar Books
