Authors: Yvonne Harriott
Markie’s voice trailed off as she leaned against the counter, arms folded across her chest. She didn’t look at Beck, but knew he was watching her. She could stop right now and he wouldn’t push her.
For some reason, she wanted to confide in him and tell him about Sydney. She wanted to tell him things she hadn’t wanted to share with anyone.
Markie started on a shaky breath looking down at her feet at the brown vinyl floor and the day of the shooting came to mind. It was hot that day, a day she’d relived a thousand times. She remembered everything about that day. She and her partner were about to go off duty when the call came in, robbery in progress.
“I’d been on the force for about five years at that time. They tell you about it in training, but when it happens to you and you pull the trigger for the first time, it’s almost surreal. It was the first time I’d ever shot and killed someone. He was a kid, maybe sixteen if that. He’d robbed a gas station and killed the attendant. When he pointed the gun at me, I knew he was going to kill me. I could see it in his eyes.”
Markie unfolded her arms and gripped the counter for support. Running her hands along the edge of the counter she could feel the smooth surface against her palms. She’d seen that kid’s face in her sleep, woken up too many nights in a cold sweat until she was finally able to live with it.
“Did he hurt you? Is that how you got the scar on your pelvis?”
He had seen the scar when he kissed her there.
“No.” She shook her head. “Bullet wound yes, but that happened when I was nineteen. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Markie had gone to a club to celebrate her friend’s birthday and some idiot opened fire in the middle of the dance floor. Her friend had died that night and she’d taken a stray bullet right in the reproductive organs.
Thirty-six hours later, one ovary was destroyed with bleeding and scaring, the other traumatized the doctors had told her. More than likely she would not have any children. Markie hadn’t realized she’d stopped talking until she heard Beck’s voice.
“What happened after the shooting at the gas station?”
“My Shift Commander, Jeffery Booker, took me out for a drink to talk right after it happened. I thought it was nice of him. The evening was going well until he dropped me at home and came onto me. His version of the evening ended with me in his bed with vivid details he decided to share with his buddies. When I got wind of the rumors, I told him he needed to correct it or I’d file a complaint. He became belligerent and tried to force me not only out of the department but off the police force as well. You see, I wasn’t a team player.”
When she looked up at Beck, he was staring at her, his body tense. Anger flashed across his face as he stirred the fried rice. He remained quiet and she was glad.
“One drink had destroyed everything I’d worked hard for. I was mad at myself for allowing it to happen. I should’ve stuck with the department shrink, but I guess I wanted to be one of the guys. A few weeks later when nothing was done by him to retract the statements he made, I filed an internal complaint and the “powers that be” sided with him. So I retained a lawyer.”
“That must have been difficult.” Turning off the stove, Beck grabbed the two plates from the counter where she had laid them out, filled them with fried rice, and sat them on the placemats on the table. “Time to eat.”
Beck took out the bottle of wine she had placed in the fridge, poured two glasses and set them on the table.
“It looks delicious.”
“I aim to please.” He nodded for her to sit and join him. “What happened after you retained the lawyer?”
“A lot of mud slinging. I was called a tease, a whore you name it. Then I met Michael Blake.”
“The investigative reporter. Don’t look so surprised. You aren’t the only one that can find out information. How did you meet him?”
“My partner, Randy and I pulled him over one night for speeding. That was another catastrophe. Randy attacked Michael and Michael broke his nose, which resulted in a suit against Michael. I testified on Michael’s behalf.”
“That couldn’t have helped you,” he said his eyebrows raised.
“No. You see there is this unwritten code that you can’t testify against another cop. Not everyone follows it, but…but what Randy did was wrong. We should be held accountable for what we do. Jeffery Booker included. That’s what I told Michael when he asked me why I stuck my neck out for him.”
“Was it his idea for the story?”
“Yes. As it turned out, I wasn’t the only female officer Booker had harassed. Then all of a sudden a settlement offer was on the table with a promotion to detective. I took the money and was naive enough to think the settlement would make everything okay.” Her voice cracked and she stopped taking a deep breath staring at the plate in front of her.
“What do you mean by everything?”
“I guess I wanted things to be the way they were before the shooting and the harassment. It all changed. I had the money, but lost friends or rather the people who I thought were my friends.”
“You landed on your feet.”
“Barely,” she said remembering how hard it was just to get clients. All the money had gone into the company. “Everything was such a struggle getting Brooks Investigations up off the ground. When Jamie asked to join me I was floored. He said I had guts.” She shook her head. “Terrified was more like it. I had to start all over again proving myself to people that I could do the job they wanted me to do. Most of all, I had to prove to myself that I was good at what I did. That was the hardest part. I couldn’t let myself fail.”
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself.”
“It’s what I had to do. I had employees depending on me. Then there was Nan. She had a stroke. I thought I was going to lose her. Sydney and I had a big blow out after that. I shouldn’t have gotten on her case,” she said thinking about what Macy had told her. “She was just trying to find herself. And in the middle of it all, Jared cancelled our wedding. The one stability I counted on walked away.”
“I won’t walk away, Marklynn.”
She looked at him from across the table. Well, not really at him per say, the soya sauce stain on his shirt. She didn’t know how to respond except just to nod.
“Why can’t you have children?”
Markie knew that question would come up and wondered how she would handle it. Should she tell him? She told him more that she had wanted to tonight and felt almost vulnerable. At the moment, she didn’t want to hear how brave she’d been or talk about the money she’d received. And, she didn’t want to talk about why she couldn’t have children.
“You can tell me when you’re ready,” he said as if sensing her reluctance.
She met his eyes then and he smiled. The smile that she’d come to love, where the corner of his mouth lifted and laugh lines fanned out from the edge of his eyes. That smile told her he understood how she felt. Nothing more was needed.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Bon appétit,” Beck said.
“This is fantastic,” she said after the first mouth full of fried rice. The Beck’s Special paled in comparison to this. She had never tasted anything so mouth watering. Maybe she did, but his lips didn’t count.
Again, she thought she could get used to being taken care of, get used to this man sitting across from her whose dark eyes told her the kind of relationship he wanted, yet she wasn’t sure if she wanted to take that risk.
They ate in silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but an understanding silence. She didn’t want to talk anymore and he understood. When the meal was over she said, “Since you cooked I’ll wash up.”
“I’ll help.” He stood up taking his plate to the sink.
“No. Sit down and I’ll wash up.” She took her plate from him when he reached for it.
“At least let me dry.”
“Okay you’re on dry duty.”
Reaching for the box of almonds on the counter, she opened the package and popped one in her mouth savoring the chocolate. She didn’t realize she’d made a noise until she heard him chuckle.
“Shall I leave you two alone?” He nodded towards the box with a smile watching as she licked the chocolate from her fingers.
She laughed offering him the box. “Try one.”
“Not a fan of chocolate.”
“No?” She plucked a partially melted chocolate covered almond from the box. He reached for it, but she shook her head. “Open your mouth.”
Beck obeyed his eyes locked with hers. “Nice,” he said as he ate the chocolate. Then she outlined his lips with her fingers giving him a chance to lick the chocolate from them.
“What is nice? The chocolate or my fingers?”
He turned towards the sink and said, “I think we better get to the dishes.”
• • •
“I think we better get to the dishes?”
Where did that come from? A Casanova he was not at the moment. What he wanted to do was introduce her to the horizontal mamba and dance until morning.
He’d waited in silence while she’d confided in him, told him about her life and her relationship with Sydney. That couldn’t have been easy for her. All he’d wanted to do then was take her into his arms, but it wasn’t the right time.
She had asked for space and he had told her to set the pace. Tonight she was giving off all the right signals with the dress. And the chocolate, oh that was a nice touch. Her finger had skillfully outlined his lips and she’d waited for him to lick the melted chocolate from her finger and that had nearly done him in. That was the green light he was waiting for, right? Wrong.
What was he waiting for? He wanted her to say the words. None of that action speaks louder than words business. He wanted her to make the first move and ask him to stay, inviting him into her bed.
So, what if she doesn’t ask you to stay Casanova? What then? A lonely ride back to Boston and a very long cold shower.
• • •
Markie handed Beck the last of the plates and he put them away in the cupboard. After he dried the skillet, he put it away under the sink then he leaned over, his lips gently caressing hers. Her hands crept up locking behind his neck pulling him closer deepening the kiss. He tasted of chocolate and wine.
“I should go,” he said pulling away.
Markie didn’t want Beck to go and she knew he didn’t want to go. But if she wanted him to stay she would have to say something. Asking him to stay was inching further down that road again and at that moment she didn’t care. She didn’t want to be alone. It wasn’t because she was afraid of being alone. She wanted to be with him. To touch him with her hands and lips, and have him touch her.
“I believe the original dinner offer came with breakfast,” she said with a shy smile. “I
want
my Beck’s Special.”
She took his hand leading him to the bedroom. Tonight she would take what she wanted living only in the moment with this wonderful man who wanted to be with her. This wonderful man allowed her to talk. He listened and most of all didn’t push. She wanted him to know she appreciated his kindness.
The dim light from a lamp on the nightstand cast a shadow across the room. Closing the door, she moved into his arms running the palms of her hands up his chest. She unbuttoned his shirt pushing it off his shoulders and he made no objections. His jeans were discarded next along with her dress.
He laid her on the bed, covered her body with his and she scrambled from beneath him reversing their positions, surprising him.
“You like being in control in every aspect of your life, don’t you?” She asked teasing.
“I can be sub—” he groaned when she pressed her hips into him “—missive when the mood calls for it.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, kissing him smiling against his chest.
He loosened the ribbon from her hair running his hand through it. “Try me,” he challenged, eyes burning into hers.
“Okay. Let’s play a game.”
“I love games. I’m very competitive, you know.” He ran his hand along her inner thigh and she shuddered.
“Ground rules…I can do what ever I want with your body and you can’t,” she removed his hand, “touch me.”
“Define touch. I mean, can I kiss you like this.” His lips touched hers, soft sensual then demanding. His tongue slid into her mouth, exploring, tasting, and feasting then pulled away, eyes laughing. “Or touch you like this.” His hand found her inner thigh again and she covered his hand with hers stilling its movement against her thigh trying to regain the control she started off with.
“You’re right. I should
define
touch. You can’t touch me like this with your lips.” She mimicked the kiss he’d given her and laughed when he groaned. “And you definitely can’t put your hand there, removing his hand dropping it on the bed. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” he smiled, a smile stolen from the devil. “Any other
rules
I should know about?”
“You only get three strikes and you’re out.”
“What if I win? What do I get?”
“You’re assuming you’ll have the will power to control yourself. I like a man with confidence,” she laughed.
Clasping his hands behind his head, he closed his eyes and smiled with smug male confidence. “Piece of cake.”
She straddled his hips running her hands down his stomach, followed by wet kisses liking the feel of his skin against her lips. Sucking…kissing…biting playfully. Her tongue outlined each scar it encountered because she was sorry that he got hurt. His eyes flew open and she felt the gentle caress of his hands on her bare shoulders.
“Strike one,” she said pushing his hands away. He didn’t put his hands back behind his head, but placed them next to his hips on the bed. His eyes never left hers. He flexed his hands as if fighting for control then grabbed the sheet in his grip.
“Strike two,” she giggled when he shivered and grabbed her shoulders stilling her movement when her tongue dipped into his navel. She looked up at him shaking her head wanting to taste him, wanting to continue the game as heat swirled like wild fire around them. Liking the power she had over him… Liking the way he groaned out her name as if he was in pain… Liking the way he was coming undone. She was going for the prize.