Love and Mistletoe by Zara Keane Page A

hell of a time getting it back out.”
    “Oh, no,” she said in a tone of despair, then caught his eye and dissolved into a fit of maniacal laughter. “What are we going to do?”
    “I’m at the wrong angle to check behind the radiator. You’ll have to do it. There’s a flashlight on the mantelpiece.”
    Sharon leaped up and got the flashlight. She shone its thin beam of light behind the radiator. And swore.
    “Can you see it?”
    “No. It’s got to be there, though. How else are we going to get you free?”
    “I don’t suppose one of your family members taught you how to pick a lock?”
    “Alas, no. We MacCarthys aren’t that subtle. We’re more the smash-the-window or break-the-door-down types.” She tried to reach down the back of the radiator, but her hand wouldn’t fit. “Ouch.” She recoiled and clutched her hand. “That thing’s hot. So how are we going to get you free?”
    “By calling Seán Mackey,” he said gloomily. “He can get the spare key for these cuffs from the station.” At least Seán would be discreet and not tell the entire station about Brian’s predicament. Teasing him when they were alone was another story.
    “What’s his number?” Sharon had already retrieved her sparkly smart phone from her handbag.
    “My phone is in the back pocket of my jeans. It’s saved under my contacts.”
    Twenty minutes later, Seán strode into the living room, wearing a shit-eating grin and more respectable attire than the towel Sharon had draped around Brian’s waist. Sharon herself had gone on a mad clothes retrieval spree and was dressed—more or less.
    Seán’s gaze trailed over the post-coital chaos of the living room before settling on Brian’s restrained wrist. “This has got to be the best emergency call out of my career.”
    Brian shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, angling his wrist away from the heat of the radiator. “Go on, have a good laugh. But could you please unlock me between bursts of hysteria?”
    Seán rocked back on his heels, prolonging his partner’s agony. “Well, well. So you two finally got it on.”
    “So we did,” Sharon said, folding her arms across her chest and fixing the police sergeant with a fulminating glare. “Now are you going to unlock him so we can ‘get it on’ again?”
    “Sharon!” Embarrassment burned a path to Brian’s scalp. “Do you have to be so—”
    She arched an eyebrow. “Direct? You knew what you were getting when you asked me out, Garda Glenn. Want to back out now?”
    “Hell, no.” He turned to his partner. “Hop with those keys, man.”
    “Gladly,” Seán said in mock alarm. “I need to get out of here before I witness a porn scene.” He flipped a key out of his pocket and slid it into the handcuff’s narrow lock.
    The cuff loosened around Brian’s wrist. He wriggled free and stood, clutching the inadequately small towel around his waist. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.”
    Seán’s grin slid back into place. “No thanks are needed. This rescue mission was the highlight of my evening.” He spun on his heel and headed for the living room door, then paused in the doorframe and saluted them. “Have fun, kids.”
    After the front door slammed behind Seán, they looked at one another. Sharon gave a sly half smile and pulled off her top to reveal… absolutely nothing… underneath. The sight of her naked breasts made him rock hard and wild with longing. “You’re torturing me,” he growled. “Come here.”
    She obeyed, standing demurely in front of him. Then her lips curved, and she sank to her knees. “Would you like me to spend the night with you, Garda Glenn?”
    “I’d like you to spend
every
night with me if it means sex this hot.”
    Her deep laugh reverberated against his thigh. Then she put her mouth over his shaft, and then he ceased to think until morning.
    ***
    Sharon adjusted her witch’s hat and slid a pint across the counter to a thirsty customer. It was Halloween and her turn to help out in