It
was Sunday. The wedding was Thursday. He was in the home stretch. Just four
more days.
He
could do it.
So
long as he stayed out of their room, or stayed drunk.
And
after that, he’d work on rebuilding their partnership. He’d won her over
before. He’d win her over again. A man couldn’t be this crazy in love with a
woman without believing that everything would come right in the end. If he
didn’t believe that the good guys had to win eventually, he wouldn’t have
become a cop.
Ryan
ordered another beer with a shooter.
* * *
Jess
awakened to a perfect Caribbean morning. She’d been awake so late, worrying,
that she’d slept later than usual. The sky was clear blue, the breeze off the
ocean was warm, and the mattress beside her was empty.
Again.
She
stared at the ceiling and blinked back her tears.
Frustrated,
she headed for the shower. She’d go find Ryan in the bar or wherever he’d
crashed and she’d do whatever was necessary to make this come right. They had
to talk. They had to work through this.
She
heard the door open when she was in the shower, but assumed it was the maid.
She called that she’d be out of the room in five minutes and heard the door
shut. She came out of the bathroom to find Ryan crashed on the bed, face down.
When
she reached the bed, he gave a blissful sigh. “You smell so good in the
mornings, Jess.” He buried his face in the pillows and took a deep breath, his
fist closing over the sheets. Jess’s heart tightened.
She
sat on the side of the bed and he reached for her, his other hand closing over
hers. “I’m sorry I said what I said. This is just killing me.”
“The
wedding?”
“No
sex.”
Jess
smiled despite herself. “But it’s just sex, and it’ll be hotter on Thursday. We
agreed...”
“I
know, Jess. I know. But it’s harder than I expected.” Ryan sighed and rolled to
his back. He gave her a sleepy look. “I don’t want to be an asshole. I just
miss you.”
“I
miss you, too.”
“I’m
scared shitless, Jess. What the hell are you doing with a guy like me?” He
rubbed his forehead, then his eyes closed. “You should be with someone like
your brother, some guy with a couple of degrees—and not from the school
of hard knocks.”
“But
I love you.”
“Doesn’t
make sense,” Ryan murmured. She sat and held his hand as his breathing
deepened.
Jess
bit her lip as she watched him sleep. She remembered the day her shop had been
robbed and her world had been shaken.
A
brick had been thrown through the window, leaving shattered glass across the
dresses in the window. Jess was shocked to discover the disarray when she
arrived, especially since she had a client coming at eleven.
That
was before she stepped into the shop, before she saw that everything had been
pushed off the shelves and torn from the hangers. All the pristine glory of
white dresses and accessories was jumbled on the floor. Books of sample
invitations had been flung across the shop, their pages torn out. It was a
mess.
She
didn’t remember calling the police. She did remember collapsing in a pile of willfully
destroyed dresses—a hundred thousand dollars of inventory torn for “fun”,
inventory she couldn’t afford to scrap—and breaking into tears of
frustration.
Until
a man cleared his throat with care from the doorway. A police officer. Ryan, in
his blues, with his gun and his sharp gaze. He’d checked the till, the safe,
the jewelry, assessing, observing and making notes with an efficiency that shook
her. He was polite and resolved, making Jess aware that what was new to her was
routine to him. His questions helped her to collect herself and start to clean
up.
Jess
was hanging up the torn dresses, trying to sort out the ones that could be
saved, when she felt his presence beside her. “That’s all we can do today,” he
said. “The detective got some prints off the door, so that’s a good thing.”
“Thank
you.”
He
didn’t leave. “Wow. Like icing sugar or cobwebs,” he said with wonder. He
lifted one gloved hand to touch a lace frill, his eyes widening at the price
tag. He surveyed the dresses on the floor, then met her gaze. “You must have
insurance.”
Jess
winced. “That doesn’t mean they’ll cover all of it.” There was despondency in
her voice, a rare pessimism. She felt rather than saw him respond to it.
“I’d
help you, but I’d probably make it worse.”
“Thanks
for the offer.”
He
didn’t leave, even then, but held his ground. She turned to find him watching
her, his gaze assessing. “You must have a partner.”
Jess
shook her head.
“Someone
to help you clean up?”
“I’ll
do it.”
Still
he hesitated. “McMurtry’s over on Main is quick with glass replacement. Good prices,
too. I’ll give them a call, if you want.”
Jess
glanced up. “Is that what cops usually do?”
“No.”
He smiled, the expression softening his features. “But I don’t want to leave
you alone with this. You sure there’s no one you can call?”
“My
friend will come after she finishes work.” Jess clutched a dress close, touched
by his concern. “Thank you. It’ll be all right. Thanks for coming, too. Do you
think you’ll catch them?”
“We’ll
try.”
Jess
supposed that was all they could do. She surveyed the mess, wishing she knew
how she’d survive this financially.
He
still didn’t leave. “It could have been worse, you know.”
Jess
flung out a hand, indicating the damage. “How could it possibly have been
worse?”
He
looked discomfited, but she waited, encouraging him with her silence. “Well,
they could have, um, urinated on everything.” Jess looked at him in
astonishment, suspecting that he would have chosen a different verb in another
setting. “Or worse.” He grimaced. “We see it all the time with B&E’s.”
“That
would be worse. It would be disgusting.” Jess had been aware then that there
were many, many things about the world that she didn’t know or hadn’t seen. “Thanks
for making me feel lucky,” she said and meant it.
“All
in the line of duty. I hope your day improves, Miss Carmichael.”
“There’s
nowhere to go but up,” Jess said.
He
almost laughed, restraining himself until she smiled at him. There had been a
mischievous glint in his eyes when he touched the brim of his hat. The twinkle
had transformed him, humanized him, made her notice the man in the uniform.
When
he’d come back later that day, once he was off-duty, just to check on her
progress, she’d been thrilled to see him. He’d smiled outright at her pleasure
and there’d been no going back.
Ryan
was everything Jess had always believed a man—and a police officer—
should be. He was gallant and shrewd, both tough and kind, a man of principle
and tenderness. He treated her like a lady, but also as a partner.
No
wonder she loved him so much.
Jess
was tempted to seduce Ryan, right here and right now. Sex would take the edge
off the tension, but it would also mean that Ryan’s promise to her wasn’t kept.
She knew how Ryan was about vows and promises. They were never negotiable, and
really, his determination to keep his word was a quality she admired in him.
Convincing him to break his word could ruin everything.
There
had to be another way. Could she rekindle the flame between them without
compromising the deal they’d made? Could they become so fixed on each other
that their wedding night was hotter than hot?
Jess
had to believe it. She thought about the ways they’d teased each other in the
past, and how incredible those encounters had been. She had to believe that
this required a different tactic than anything they’d done before. Novelty
would be part of what seized Ryan’s attention. And surprise would play a part,
too.
She
grabbed the phone and dialed Fiona’s room.
“Take
me shopping,” she said when Fiona answered. She looked down, but Ryan didn’t
stir. She felt a thrill of anticipation. “You know where.”
* * *
Ryan
had a sense that something was wrong.
He
kept his eyes closed and tried to figure it out.
He’d
found the right cottage, because his key had worked in the door. The bed was
huge and comfortable, the sheets ironed to smooth perfection. He was naked and
sleeping on his back, a breeze floating across his skin. The air was warm and
he could hear both the lap of the ocean and the cries of gulls. It felt luxurious
to just lie there, with no particular rush to do anything or go anywhere. As a
complete bonus, he didn’t have a headache after the night before, but his
thinking was a bit foggy.
He
could smell Jess’s scent on the sheets, that sweet familiar scent of her body.
His body responded on cue and his erection grew as he envisioned her in sleep.
She always slept naked, her skin smooth as satin. Her hair was always a dark
tangle around her face and her lips always parted, as if inviting his kiss. On
a hundred mornings, he rolled over to find her there and been tempted. He’d
awakened her with a kiss, then rolled her to her back and eaten her. He loved
to start his day with the sound of her orgasm and the taste of her hot juices
on his tongue.
Ryan
moaned a little and shifted as he dozed. He couldn’t wait to have her back
again, to taste her again, to feel her body hovering on the cusp of orgasm.
His
Jess.
Ryan
slowly became aware that he could smell the perfume she wore when they were
going out. The scent tickled at him, making his erection even bigger. He loved
that perfume, the way it mixed with her own. He wasn’t kidding her that he
could find her anywhere when she wore it.
He
inhaled deeply, remembering the last time she’d teased him with that perfume.
It had been a Friday night, a dinner for her business association before
Christmas. She’d been wearing a lacy bra and matching panties, with stockings
and a garter belt. Her make-up was done and her hair was wound up, and she’d
been wearing heels. As he came out of the shower to dress, she’d given him a
mischievous look. Then she’d started to apply that perfume under her breasts,
on her neck, on the inside of her thigh, on the arch of her foot.
He’d
been spellbound by the sight. The bedroom had filled the scent of her, but
she’d insisted they wait until later to even touch each other. Ryan had knotted
his tie about nine-hundred times to get it right, he’d been so distracted.
They’d
been late, which they never were.
In
the car on the way home, she’d peeled off those lacy panties and put them in
the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He’d been able to smell her and that
perfume all the way home, and they’d joked about him driving them into the
ditch.
It
had been a close thing.
And
they’d made love until noon the next day.
Ryan
groaned in recollection.
That
night was the main reason he’d agreed to her idea of month of chastity. If four
hours had been enough to blow his mind, what about thirty days?
It
was killing him, though. That hadn’t been a joke.
Three
nights until he got his Jess back. Ryan could do it.
He
made to reach across the sheets, hoping she was there, but couldn’t move.
Ryan’s
eyes flew open then, even as he tried to tug himself free. To his astonishment,
his ankles were tied to the corners of the footboard and his wrists were tied
to the corners of the headboard. He was bound to the bed, spread-eagle on his
back.
He
thrashed in frustration, but the bed was carved of solid wood and didn’t even
creak with his efforts. The bands on his wrists and ankles were wide and made
of some kind of nylon that locked in place. There wasn’t any room to wriggle
free of them, although they weren’t so tight as to cut off circulation. Each
was knotted to a length of black rope, which was knotted in turn around the
bedpost. He was stretched out to his full length and could barely even shift
his butt. If he’d relaxed, he might have been comfortable, but Ryan couldn’t
relax.
His
heart was pounding.
What
the hell was going on?
Who
had done this to him? And why?
Where
was Jess?
“You
seem to be worried about getting tied down,” Jess said, her voice low and
sultry. Ryan realized she was standing by the wall on one side of the
headboard, just out of his peripheral vision. “Fiona suggested I give you a
preview.”