It was all Bo could do to keep a big smile from breaking out. God, these people were great; she blessed the day she’d landed here. As seriously as possible she said, “It is indeed. Jesse took Miss Doris home about half an hour ago, maybe a little more. Emily had posted on Facebook that she was picking up Miss Doris for her court date, and Kalie is Facebook friends with Emily, so Jesse knew Miss Doris wouldn’t have her car.”
That convoluted explanation evidently made perfect sense to everyone because smiles broke out. She heard several “Thank yous,” and “Sorry to disturb you,” and a “See, I told you everything would be all right.” Then, mission accomplished, the firefly crowd moved back across the street and began dispersing to their own cars and residences.
Bo stood on the sidewalk for a minute or so, watching them, then went back inside the police station.
Tricks was sitting there with a big doggy smile on her face, as happy as ever. Morgan was crouched on the floor, his arms around Tricks. He was laughing, his shoulders shaking, as he fought to muffle the sound by burying his face against Tricks’s plush fur. Her heart gave another of those little bumps, and the hairs on her arms lifted in alarm. She didn’t want to feel anything for him other than concern over his situation; anything more personal was too dangerous.
Bo pushed emotion away and said, “You better not get snot on my dog.”
He lifted his red face from Tricks’s fur and managed to gasp, “Free Doris!” before succumbing again, collapsing on his ass on the floor and holding his stomach.
She liked his laugh, deep and rolling. “Wasn’t that great?” she asked, beaming. “All of it. And I got a picture.” Then she began laughing too because she couldn’t hold it in any longer.
He rose lithely to his feet, snatched her into his arms, and whirled her around in a circle. She was astonished by the ease with which he lifted her, but she couldn’t stop laughing as she clutched at his shoulders. “Put me down! What if someone comes in?”
He snorted. “What if they do? After what I just saw? There’s no one in this town who would even blink an eye.” He smiled down at her, blue eyes still glinting with laughter.
She looked up, so close she could see the emerging beard on his strong jaw, the striations, both light and dark, in his eyes that made the blue so brilliant. The muscles in his shoulders bunched under her palms as he set her down.
“You have a good heart, Chief,” he said and kissed her forehead.
She could handle a forehead kiss, she thought; it was friendly without being sexual. Not that she wanted to be friends with him, but still-
Then he blew that out of the water by gripping her head with both hands, tilting her face up, and covering her mouth with his.
CHAPTER 16
IT WAS LIKE BEFORE-THE HOT TASTE OF HIM, THE thrill of recognition, the instant hunger. But it was different, too, because neither of them was riding the knife edge of anger. There was a slowness to the way their mouths clung together, a laziness to the dip and stroke of his tongue. Did laughter give a different, lighter taste to his mouth? Did it to hers? He wasn’t holding her head now; instead his hands were gripping her waist, the heat of his palms burning the softness of her skin as he brought her body close against him.
He nipped at her bottom lip, licked the tiny sting, moved his mouth down to her throat. Her head fell back, as if the touch of his mouth turned her neck to rubber, and holding it upright was too much effort. She didn’t even try; she couldn’t deny the thrill, the hot chase of lightning from his mouth to her nipples and down between her legs.
She’d been turned on before. She knew the allure of sex, the heat and pleasure of it. But even during her marriage she’d always felt somehow distant from the act, as if her mind couldn’t quite engage with her body. This was different. This was scary. Not only was her mind right there, but she felt as if her body had the upper hand, as if touching him somehow made her mental gears shift into neutral. This was more than pleasure; she didn’t want to have just the experience, she wanted to have him, to feel him on her, inside her. That wasn’t sex, that was need, and need was a completely different animal. She didn’t want to need anyone.
And yet… she did. Him, for reasons she couldn’t pin down. Chemistry, maybe. Propinquity, probably. And he liked her dog.
His erection was a thick ridge against her stomach, inviting her to lift herself up, wind her legs around his waist, and let him do whatever he wanted.
Alarm clanged in her brain, but distantly. They were standing in the middle of the police station. He wasn’t mostly naked, the way he had been before when he’d kissed her. They weren’t being driven by raw emotion; she wasn’t in danger of giving in to the subtle surge of need rising through her body-not here, anyway. She was aware of the alarm; that was all, just as she was aware of his thick hair beneath her palm. But-when she had moved her hand from his shoulder to the back of his head? His hair was cool on the surface, warm at his skull, so soft her fingers curled in it. She was aware of his chest rising and falling with every breath he took, she could feel the thumping of his heart.
His heart-the heart that had come so close to never beating again because he had a job and lived a life that put him in harm’s way, because an assassin’s bullet had damn near killed him.
The thought chilled her as nothing else could have, and with the chill came a return of common sense, of willpower. Bo pulled her mouth from his, tucked her head; her forehead was resting against his chest, her hand lying lightly over that heart that was still beating strongly, despite all odds, because he’d had the strength to overcome what should have been a fatal injury. She had to keep that reality front and center before she started doing stupid things such as hoping they could have something together. No, face the facts: she was already being stupid by kissing him; he’d been plain about what he wanted, and she’d just underscored her own weakness where he was concerned. He was too astute not to have realized what this episode revealed.
She felt the need to clarify her standing, despite what her present actions were saying, or maybe because of what they were saying. “Rules haven’t changed. No sex.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she winced in embarrassment. Mixed signals, much?
“How about a celebratory kiss?” His tone was low, his breath brushing her hair as he slowly rubbed his lips against the hollow just below her ear, then so lightly, delicately, licked it as if he were tasting her. All the nerve receptors in her skin lit up, and her nipples pinched tight, making her want to rub her entire body against him.
It would be silly to say no to what they’d already done. Just because she had no intention of getting involved with him… did that mean she couldn’t allow herself the purely physical enjoyment of kissing him? And that way lies a slippery slope, she thought, because the same logic, or lack of it, could also be applied to sleeping with him.
Regretfully she made herself release him, step away. “We’ve just had it,” she pointed out. He let her go without effort, and a tiny part of her mourned that, wanted him to persist. How perverse was that? But it was human; she wanted him to want her the way she wanted him.
But he was smiling down at her, a crooked smile that invited her to join in his amusement. “Is there a rule about how many celebratory kisses are allowed?”
“Yes. One.”
“What idiot wrote that rule?”
“I did.”
“Scratch the previous comment.”
His prompt reply had her laughing. The man was a fast thinker. He’d have to be, though, or he’d have been killed long ago.
She sighed as she turned to the desk and gathered up the scraps of their now-cold meal. She wished he hadn’t kissed her-but he had, and once again she’d been complicit. At least he’d done nothing more than kiss, though she suspected that was more because he was too damn wily than because his interest had cooled. He didn’t strike her as a man who blew hot and cold, but rather as a man who went after what he wanted and was very good at planning his strategy.