with gratitude. “Just when you need them.”
Clarissa looked at Bradley. “What is the policeman going to do with my mommy?”
“He’s going to send her here,” Bradley said. “And we’ll have a funeral for her and bury her next to your daddy Henry.”
She smiled at him. “She’ll like that,” she said. “She missed him lots.”
Mary ran her hand over her eyes to wipe away any stray tears. “Well, I know just the man who can help us plan a nice funeral for her. His name is Mr. Turner,” she said. “Should we go over and see him and pick out the flowers for her?”
Nodding, Clarissa turned to Bradley. “Can I?”
He leaned over, picked up her coat from the back of her chair and handed it to her. “Yes, I think that’s a great idea and I think we all should go over there,” he said.
Chapter Twelve
“Ach, no, you can’t do this to me,” Ian groaned from the living room. “Please darling, have a little mercy.”
Clarissa giggled. “No, I jumped three of your checkers. Now you have to crown me.”
“You’re naught but a wee grown-up here to fleece me out of my chocolate chip cookies,” he replied.
“I’m not a grown-up,” she said. “I’m just a little girl. But I would like another cookie.”
“Aye, but don’t let on that I’m giving you another,” he said.
Mary pulled the last dish out of the sink and handed it to Bradley to put in the dishwasher. “Should we let him know we can hear him?” she asked.
Shaking his head, he quickly slipped the dish into the place and closed the door. Then he grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her towards the back door. “No,” he whispered. “Let’s just pretend we’re still busy cleaning things up.”
He opened the door and ushered her out onto the back porch.
“Why do you want to pretend...,” Mary began, but her words and her thoughts were cut off as Bradley’s lips covered hers.
He pulled her to him, angled his head so he had greater access and deepened the kiss. He inhaled the fragrance of her shampoo as he skimmed his lips over her forehead. The scent was uniquely Mary; cinnamon, vanilla and something spicy. Delectable, he thought as he lowered his head to cover her lips again, perfectly delectable .
Mary’s insides were engaged in a slow steady meltdown and her heart was running a marathon. How did he do this to her with only a kiss? Whatever spell he wove, she was bewitched. Wrapping her arms around him, she slid her hands across the broad planes of his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he held her and relishing the strength in his arms and the gentleness of his embrace. Had any other woman ever felt so cherished?
The slight stubble on his face rubbed against her cheek and sent a small explosion through her center. His hot breath against her neck caused another. And the way he murmured her name before he crushed his lips against hers took her breath away. She was burning inside, her body tightening to a fevered pitch and she knew he burned just as passionately for her.
Finally, he slipped his lips from hers and just held her, his cheek on the top of her head, his breathing labored. She slid her hands down and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder. The sound of his racing heart reassuring her that he was just as disturbed as she.
“I can’t wait,” she whispered.
He was silent for a moment, and then kissed the top of her head. “For what?” he asked quietly.
“For the day we don’t have to stop at kissing,” she admitted.
He tightened his hold for a moment, and then released her. His hands slid slowly down her arms as he stepped back and looked down at her, meeting her eyes. She could see the desire, the passion and the hunger. The intensity almost frightened her, but her body shivered in response.
He bent down and kissed her once more, reluctant to end the intimacy. “Soon, darling,” he promised, against her lips. “Very soon.”
“Uh hum,”
Clarissa looked at Bradley. “What is the policeman going to do with my mommy?”
“He’s going to send her here,” Bradley said. “And we’ll have a funeral for her and bury her next to your daddy Henry.”
She smiled at him. “She’ll like that,” she said. “She missed him lots.”
Mary ran her hand over her eyes to wipe away any stray tears. “Well, I know just the man who can help us plan a nice funeral for her. His name is Mr. Turner,” she said. “Should we go over and see him and pick out the flowers for her?”
Nodding, Clarissa turned to Bradley. “Can I?”
He leaned over, picked up her coat from the back of her chair and handed it to her. “Yes, I think that’s a great idea and I think we all should go over there,” he said.
Chapter Twelve
“Ach, no, you can’t do this to me,” Ian groaned from the living room. “Please darling, have a little mercy.”
Clarissa giggled. “No, I jumped three of your checkers. Now you have to crown me.”
“You’re naught but a wee grown-up here to fleece me out of my chocolate chip cookies,” he replied.
“I’m not a grown-up,” she said. “I’m just a little girl. But I would like another cookie.”
“Aye, but don’t let on that I’m giving you another,” he said.
Mary pulled the last dish out of the sink and handed it to Bradley to put in the dishwasher. “Should we let him know we can hear him?” she asked.
Shaking his head, he quickly slipped the dish into the place and closed the door. Then he grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her towards the back door. “No,” he whispered. “Let’s just pretend we’re still busy cleaning things up.”
He opened the door and ushered her out onto the back porch.
“Why do you want to pretend...,” Mary began, but her words and her thoughts were cut off as Bradley’s lips covered hers.
He pulled her to him, angled his head so he had greater access and deepened the kiss. He inhaled the fragrance of her shampoo as he skimmed his lips over her forehead. The scent was uniquely Mary; cinnamon, vanilla and something spicy. Delectable, he thought as he lowered his head to cover her lips again, perfectly delectable .
Mary’s insides were engaged in a slow steady meltdown and her heart was running a marathon. How did he do this to her with only a kiss? Whatever spell he wove, she was bewitched. Wrapping her arms around him, she slid her hands across the broad planes of his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he held her and relishing the strength in his arms and the gentleness of his embrace. Had any other woman ever felt so cherished?
The slight stubble on his face rubbed against her cheek and sent a small explosion through her center. His hot breath against her neck caused another. And the way he murmured her name before he crushed his lips against hers took her breath away. She was burning inside, her body tightening to a fevered pitch and she knew he burned just as passionately for her.
Finally, he slipped his lips from hers and just held her, his cheek on the top of her head, his breathing labored. She slid her hands down and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder. The sound of his racing heart reassuring her that he was just as disturbed as she.
“I can’t wait,” she whispered.
He was silent for a moment, and then kissed the top of her head. “For what?” he asked quietly.
“For the day we don’t have to stop at kissing,” she admitted.
He tightened his hold for a moment, and then released her. His hands slid slowly down her arms as he stepped back and looked down at her, meeting her eyes. She could see the desire, the passion and the hunger. The intensity almost frightened her, but her body shivered in response.
He bent down and kissed her once more, reluctant to end the intimacy. “Soon, darling,” he promised, against her lips. “Very soon.”
“Uh hum,”