скачать книгу бесплатно
She looked away, her lips in a tight line. He could almost see her weighing the pros and cons of his proposal. But where was she going to find another guy to agree to her crazy plan on such short notice? She must have reached the same conclusion. “All right. I guess I can do that.”
“Good. Then what say we start right this minute?”
She looked wary. “How?”
“With a good-night kiss.”
Her eyes widened in surprise as he brought his lips to hers. He slipped his arms around her, pressing her tightly against his chest, stroking her back in a soothing motion as his mouth teased away her resistance.
He kissed the corners of her mouth and traced his tongue along the seam of her lips, then bent to kiss the tender flesh of her throat, her skin like satin against his tongue. He returned to her mouth, sucking gently at her lips, every sensitive nerve of his own mouth alive to her.
Triumph filled him as she melted against him, and her lips parted. She tasted of the wine they’d shared and smelled of exotic flowers. And she felt…God, she felt like heaven. He moved his hand to her waist, bringing her closer against his erection. He wanted her to know how she affected him. Instead of drawing away, she pressed into him, her hands on his back, fingers digging in.
Somewhere nearby, a car door slammed, making him aware that they were in a public place. Reluctantly, he drew away, and tried to catch his breath.
She leaned back against the car, eyes glazed, lips swollen and slightly parted, hair mussed. She truly looked like a woman in need of a man now, and given the slightest encouragement, he’d have been happy to oblige. He clenched his fists, hoping she wouldn’t see his hands shaking.
He saw the moment reason returned to her, watched her face pale and her eyes widen. She straightened and smoothed her hands over her hair, down her dress. “I…I’d better go.” She turned and fumbled with her keys, missing the door lock completely.
He stepped forward and took them from her hand, opened the door for her, then leaned in and fit the key in the ignition. “Maybe you’d better sit here a minute before you drive home,” he said.
She slid into the driver’s seat and shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”
He wished she’d look at him. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, I didn’t mean for things to get so carried away just now.”
She nodded, still avoiding his eyes.
“But I think maybe it means something. Maybe we’re not such a bad match after all.”
“I think you shouldn’t read more into this than there is, Mr. Sullivan.” She turned the key in the ignition, starting the engine. “Unlike you, I don’t believe in fate.”
He had to leap back as she slammed the door. Then she sped out of the parking lot, in violation of half a dozen traffic laws. He stared after her, then started to chuckle. Oh, she was a pistol all right. He was going to enjoy proving to her how wrong she was about fate. And about them.
2
JONI WOKE the next morning from a restless sleep, thinking of Carter. How was it possible for a man she scarcely knew to disturb her so? Surely she’d never met anyone who infuriated her more. Take that whole business of him paying for dinner. Fragile male ego—hah! He was about as fragile as a concrete wall.
And that kiss—that incredible, mind-blowing kiss. He’d just assumed she’d wanted him to kiss her. Yeah, so she’d enjoyed the kiss. It probably ranked among the top five kisses she’d received in her lifetime. Maybe even number one. That kiss had lit up every nerve in her body like Fourth of July fireworks.
But that was beside the point. Any woman would be physically attracted to a man like Carter. She still knew better than to get involved with him. After all, he was a cop. A man addicted to the power trip of being an authority figure and hooked on the danger rush that went along with the badge. A man who would leave a wife and children at home while he went out the door every day to put his life on the line. Not the kind of man she wanted as a husband and father to her children.
He’d spouted all that nonsense about fate. She didn’t believe in fate. A person had to be responsible for her own life. Make her own choices. Something she’d been trying to tell G.P. since she was ten years old and her grandmother had made her take those stupid dance lessons.
She sighed. Okay, maybe they weren’t so stupid. Maybe it would be nice to learn to dance. But because she wanted to, not because G.P. or anybody else thought it was a good idea.
You sound like a two-year-old. Her conscience jabbed her, and she frowned at her face in the bathroom mirror. It was too early in the morning to grapple with her conscience. A grown woman ought to be able to declare her independence without sounding like a toddler. The point was, she didn’t, didn’t, didn’t want to get involved with a man like Carter Sullivan.
Which took her back to the problem of what to do about G.P. and her plans to see her granddaughter happily married. She wrestled with this dilemma while she munched down a bowl of cereal and packed her lunch. By the time she arrived at work, she knew she had only one real choice.
She found the number for the San Antonio Police Department in the phone book and asked to speak to Officer Carter Sullivan. The operator transferred her to the patrol sergeant. “Officer Sullivan isn’t in right now,” the sergeant told her. “Can I help you with something?”
“No, I…can I leave a message for him?”
“I can put you through to his voice mail. Are you one of his kids?”
“Uh, no.”
“Uh, okay. Well, here’s his voice mail.”
Kids? All the breath rushed out of her. Carter had kids? What else had he failed to mention last night? An ex-wife…or several? Not that they’d gone into much depth about their backgrounds, but you would think a man would remember something as important as children….
“You’ve reached the voice mailbox of Officer Carter Sullivan. Leave a message…”
“Uh, Carter, this is Joni Montgomery,” she stammered. “Call me.” Then she recited her phone number.
She returned to the nurses’ station and tried to concentrate on work, but thoughts of Carter kept intruding. Thoughts of that incredible kiss. Memories of him holding her. Would you get out of my head? she wanted to shout.
“Joni, there’s someone here to see you,” a nurse told her before headed down the hall.
She looked up from her charts at a broad-shouldered man in the crisp blue uniform of a San Antonio police officer. Her heart did a back flip and she felt the blood rush to her face. How was she supposed to deal with Carter calmly when her body reacted so fiercely to him?
“I get a kick out of the way you blush so easily.” He grinned and moved closer to the nurses’ station. “I didn’t think women did that anymore.”
“Blushing is merely an involuntary physical reaction.” She busied herself straightening a stack of patient charts that didn’t need straightening. “Like hiccups, or sweaty palms.”
“Hmm. More attractive, though. Especially on you.”
She could feel his gaze like a hot caress on her skin. When she raised her head, she found him regarding her with a half smile on his lips that would have made a nun have second thoughts about her vocation. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“You forgot to tell me how to get in touch with you. Then I remembered you said you worked at Santa Rosa. I took a chance you’d be here today.”
“I just called and left you a message at the station.”
His smile broadened. “Then you didn’t chicken out.”
She’d wanted to, but she hadn’t been able to think of any other way to appease G.P. Or any other man who would be sure to have her grandmother packing her bags and heading out of Texas in short order. “We made an agreement. I intend to keep my part of it.” After all, how hard could it be to endure one date with him?
“I stopped by to find out what the plan is for tomorrow night, and so we could get our stories straight before the big event.”
“Speaking of getting stories straight…” She moved out from behind the nurses’ station. “Let’s go back to the break room for a minute and talk about a few things.”
The closet-size room at the end of the hall had just enough space for a table and two chairs, a small refrigerator and a cart that held a microwave, a coffee-maker, and assorted boxes of crackers, cans of coffee and jars of tea bags. A half-empty box of donuts sat on the table.
Joni shut the door behind them and turned to face him. “Why didn’t you mention last night that you have children?”
His smile vanished. “What the hell?” He stared at her, true astonishment on his face. “I don’t have any children. Where did you get an idea like that?”
She clutched the back of a folding chair. “When I called the station, the man who answered asked if I was one of your kids.”
Laughter exploded from him. She tightened her grip on the chair. “What’s so funny about that?”
Carter shook his head. “He wasn’t talking about my children.”
“Then who was he talking about?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “The area I patrol attracts a lot of street kids. Runaways. I try to get to know them—let them know if they ever need anything, they can call me.”
“Street kids.” Her heart gave a little twist. “That…that’s really nice of you.”
“Yeah, that’s me. A regular saint.” He cocked one eyebrow. “Sorry to disappoint you. I know you were expecting worse things from me.”
Touché. She looked at the floor. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“So what’s the deal here?” He leaned toward her, his hands on the table between them. “Did you date a cop once and he did you wrong? Did you have a runin with a bad cop once upon a time? Did your parents threaten to turn you over to the police when you were little and you were bad? Or do you just not like the cut of the uniform?” He looked down at his blue shirt and pants. “I hear women really go for the brown sheriff’s department getup. Maybe I should try that.”
She bit back a smile. Did they teach cops how to ask serious questions in such a nonthreatening manner? No, she’d bet this particular approach was a Carter Sullivan original. “The uniform is great,” she said. And he looked great in it. Every female in the emergency department, including one woman lying on a stretcher, had checked him out when he walked in.
She crossed her arms under her breasts. “I don’t like adrenaline junkies.”
He straightened and drew his eyebrows together. “Try that one again.”
“You know. Men who get off on danger. Cops. Firefighters. Test pilots. Race-car drivers.”
“So the danger thing doesn’t turn you on?”
Why did he put the question that way? This had nothing to do with sex. “Men into those things are selfish.”
He rubbed his chin, considering. “How do you figure that? Haven’t you heard the term ‘public servant’?”
She shifted her weight to one hip. “I’m not saying you don’t provide a public service, or that what you do isn’t important. But nobody stays in that kind of work long if they don’t get a rush from courting danger. Only, when they get hurt—and odds are they will—their families are the ones who pay the price.”
He nodded. “So you figure you’ll just avoid that hurt altogether and stick with nice, safe guys. Like accountants.”
“That’s it.” Her shoulders relaxed. Maybe he did understand.
“What if I told you I pulled an accountant out of a wrecked car just two days ago? Head-on collision with a dump truck.”
“I’d say it sounded like a story you made up to prove a point.”
Laughter lit his eyes. “Okay, so it was a shoe salesman. Same difference.”
“The odds are still in the accountant’s—or the shoe salesman’s—favor.”
He moved around the table to stand in front of her, uncomfortably close. “So love to you is a matter of playing the odds?”
She raised her chin, staring past his shoulder, and tried not to breathe too deeply of his leather-and-soap scent. “Who says I can’t love a safe man as much as a danger junkie?”
“That’s only if we really get to choose who we love.”
She jerked her gaze to his. Why did he look so sure of himself? So certain he was right. “Of course we do. That’s what the whole dating thing is about. Choosing.”
He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Love’s not like that at all.”
“Who made you an expert?”
He stepped closer, backing her up against the door. She couldn’t move away without pressing against him, could scarcely draw a breath without the tips of her breasts brushing his chest. But more than his physical proximity, his gaze held her, silencing her protests, stealing thought. “So when you kissed me last night, it was because you chose to do so?”
She swallowed. “Of course.”
He leaned over and pressed his lips to her throat, barely catching her flesh between his teeth. Heat knifed through her, melting a path from his mouth to between her legs. “And when you practically came in my arms, it’s because you chose to do so.” His voice rumbled through her, making her heart pound.
“I did not…do that.”
He raised his head to meet her eyes once more. “You were turned on though. I’ll bet you were soaking wet.”
If he only knew…She closed her eyes against his penetrating gaze and shivered as his mouth moved down her throat to her collarbone, trailing heat along the V neck of her uniform top. “Physical reaction…is different…from love,” she gasped.
“Maybe. Let’s call it lust then.” He cupped her right breast in his palm. “Tell me you’re not lusting after me right now.”
“Of…of course not.”
He ran his thumb across her erect nipple, sending shock waves rippling through her. “Liar.”
She tried to pull back, but only managed to flatten herself against the door. “What if I am? It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Then it won’t hurt to act on those feelings.” He put his hands on either side of her, flat against the door. “If I locked this door and we went after it right now, it wouldn’t make any difference in how you looked at me tomorrow?”
She glared at him. “You do that and I won’t be looking at you at all tomorrow.”
He stepped back, startling her with the suddenness of the movement. She sagged against the door, shaken and panting. She didn’t know whether to be angry at him for putting her in this position, or for leaving her like this, hungry for more.
“I will never force you to do anything,” he said, retreating to the table. “But don’t lie about what you’re feeling either. If you want me, don’t be afraid to say so.”
Of all the conceited, arrogant—She glared at him. “In your dreams.”
He grinned. “Oh, you’re already there, sugar.” He fished a donut from the box on the table and took a bite. “So what time is Grandma’s get-together tomorrow?”
His question cut off the biting remark forming in her head. She blinked. Was he changing the subject to unsettle her further, or to give her time to cool off?
She thought his fingers trembled as he raised the donut to his lips again and she held back a smile. Maybe he was giving them both time to calm down. “It starts at five o’clock, though my dad will probably be up at five that morning to start the brisket cooking.”
“What time do you want me to pick you up?”
She rubbed her arms. She hadn’t planned on letting him know where she lived. That made this all too personal. “I thought you could meet me at my parents’.”
He shook his head. “That won’t work. Not if we’re supposed to be crazy in love. We should show up together.”
She frowned. “I don’t see what difference it makes.”
