Authors: Marie Force
“I know what you’re going to say,” she said.
He tossed the paper towels in the trash and turned to her, trying to decide whether or not he should make her suffer a bit for keeping him a secret from her parents. “What’s that?”
“You don’t understand why I didn’t tell them about you. And I’m so sorry, Evan. It had nothing to do with you.”
As tears filled her eyes, he discovered he loved her too damned much to make her suffer. He went to her and rested his hands on her hips, drawing her in close to him.
She looped her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry. I could tell you were mad the minute I walked in.”
“I’m not going to deny I was a little hurt to realize you hadn’t told them about me, but after half an hour in their presence, I get it, baby.”
“I wanted to tell them about you. So many times. But I’ve been so happy, and I didn’t want them to ruin it the way they ruin everything for me.”
He drew her into a tight hug that she returned in equal measure. “Do you think I’d let anyone ruin what we have?”
“They’re so negative and defeatist. So many times I started to tell them about you, but I always stopped myself, knowing they wouldn’t approve of us living together. I’m almost thirty! I don’t need their permission.”
“But you care enough to want their approval.”
“And doesn’t that make me a fool?”
“No, baby, it makes you a good daughter. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I love you, Evan. You have no idea how much.”
Smiling, he tipped his head and kissed her slowly and sweetly. She was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of. Every taste made him want another. He was equally addicted to the scent of her silky hair and the softness of her skin.
“I love you just as much,” he said as he kissed her collarbone and made her shiver. Glancing at the bedside clock, he let his hands slide down to cup her bottom. “We’ve got an hour before we have to meet them.”
She smiled suggestively. “Maybe we can watch some TV or something.”
Evan laughed as he backed her up to the bed and came down on top of her. “Or something.”
Tiffany drove home in a state of shock. The possibility that absolutely
no one
would patronize her store hadn’t occurred to her in all the months of planning for the grand opening. Her hands shook with nerves when she thought again about the stack of bills that needed to be paid, not to mention the cavernous house that needed furniture. She swallowed the panic that lodged in her throat.
God, what have I done? I’ve risked my future and Ashleigh’s on this huge gamble and now
…
No.
She forced those thoughts from her mind. Right after she got home and had herself a nice little pity party over what hadn’t happened today, she’d pull out one of her favorite self-help books and spend some time rebuilding her faith in herself and her store.
On the way inside, she grabbed the mail and rifled through it to find more bills and something from her lawyer, Dan Torrington, who’d obtained a Rhode Island license to help free her friend Stephanie’s stepfather from prison and then used it to help Tiffany with her divorce. She scanned the letter from Dan that indicated her divorce was now final and referred to the enclosed agreement that gave her joint custody of her daughter Ashleigh. The settlement check from Jim would go a long way toward relieving some of the debt she’d accumulated in recent months, but it wouldn’t solve all her financial problems.
While Tiffany knew she ought to be celebrating the end of a marriage that had died a long, painful death, she hardly felt like celebrating. She wanted her baby girl to snuggle and cuddle up to after the miserable disappointment of her grand opening, but this was Jim’s weekend with Ashleigh.
She briefly pondered Blaine’s directive that she call him the second her divorce was final so they could pick up where they’d left off last fall. But she was too worn out and defeated after the day she’d had to go another round with him.
Her heels echoed through the empty house, reminding her once again that she would’ve been better off using her settlement money to buy furniture and pay some bills. “Well, I didn’t,” she said to the gaping emptiness that was her home. “So stop reminding me of what I
should’ve
done. What’s done is done, and now I have to find a way to make it work.”
On the way up the stairs, she unbuttoned her silk blouse and headed to the garden tub in the master bathroom. Pouring in strawberry-scented bubble bath, Tiffany stripped down and watched the bubbles bloom. She grabbed her robe and ran downstairs to pour a big glass of chardonnay and returned to the bathroom as the bubbles reached ideal height. Tiffany went to the stereo Jim had installed years ago and smiled as Andrea Bocelli’s distinctive voice filled the room. The only reason the stereo was still there was because he’d hard-wired it into the house. Slipping into the warm suds, Tiffany felt the tension leave her body in one long wave. Nothing fixed what ailed her quite like a bubble bath.
As she floated on a cloud of strawberries and Andrea, she willed away the worries of the day, like she’d done for more than a year since Jim lost his mind and left his perfectly lovely wife. And she’d been a perfectly lovely wife. That was one thing she knew for certain. She’d cooked and cleaned and worked to support them while he was in college and law school. When they bought this house from his parents, she’d labored nonstop for months to make it a place he’d be proud to bring his friends and business associates. She’d entertained lavishly and often without much notice any time he asked. She’d done absolutely nothing to deserve the way he’d treated her. Knowing that gave her some measure of comfort but did nothing to warm her bed on cold winter nights.
Tiffany soaked for close to an hour, and only when the water started to cool did she move reluctantly from the tub to the enormous steam shower to rinse off the suds and wash her hair. When she first saw this shower, she’d imagined making slow, steamy love with Jim in there. Never once, in all the time they’d lived there together, had that happened. “What a waste,” she whispered, annoyed with herself for still being hung up on the memories of him and what might’ve been.
All at once, images of the sexy police chief pushed Jim from her thoughts. He’d been so hot and so
bothered
earlier as he tried to cover her up. Tiffany laughed at how annoyed he’d been. The more he’d tried to cover her, the more fun it had been to torment him. It hadn’t been lost on her that once he realized she wasn’t going to allow him to cover her, he’d kept that heavy jacket of his strategically placed to hide the effect her outfit had on him. Too bad they’d been unable to capitalize on all that chemistry zinging between them.
She towel-dried her hair and brushed it out. Letting it dry on its own would result in wild curls by morning, but she was too tired to bother with the drying and straightening ritual. Wrapped in a pale pink silk robe, Tiffany rinsed out the tub and took her wineglass downstairs for a refill.
The clang of the doorbell echoed through the empty house like the bells at Notre Dame, startling her. She couldn’t imagine who’d be calling at this hour. As a woman living alone with a small child, her first thought always was safety. She peered through the peephole and nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw Blaine Taylor’s handsome face. Should she ask him to wait while she dashed upstairs to find more appropriate attire? Why bother when he’d seen her in much less earlier?
She swung open the door. “Have you come to gloat?”
He took a long, slow, perusing look at her, making each of her most important parts stand up to ensure he didn’t miss anything. “Of course not.”
The bob of his Adam’s apple satisfied her. “Then what can I do for you, Chief?”
“I thought we’d progressed to first names.”
Standing in the soft spring breeze with only a thin layer of silk covering her, Tiffany was acutely aware of all her pleasure points, because each of them had come to life the moment she opened the door to him.
His deep, gravelly voice, the hint of rough stubble on his well-defined jaw, the honey-colored hair, those liquid brown eyes, the uniform. . . Tiffany had never understood why women went wild over a man in uniform. Now she got it, and for the first time since Jim left her, she was truly grateful to be single and now officially divorced.
“What brings you to my doorstep on this fine evening?”
“I wanted to check on you. I thought you’d be more, you know, upset. About today.”
Tiffany shrugged. “It’s the first day. Things will pick up.”
“Are you always so optimistic?”
“What choice do I have?”
“I admire that.”
Startled by the unexpected compliment, Tiffany stared at him, taking note of a pulsing twitch in his cheek. All at once, it dawned on her that he wanted her. Fiercely. The realization sent a charge of desire sizzling through her, as if she’d touched a live wire. She felt her nipples get even harder under the soft silk and watched his eyes lower to take in the show. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was looking, which pleased her. It’d been so long since a man had looked at her with anything other than contempt.
“Would you like to come in?”
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“Probably not.”
He took a step forward to close the distance between them, but still, he didn’t touch her. “Are you divorced yet?”
“Funny you should ask. I got the papers today. It’s official.”
His eyes narrowed a bit at that news. “You were supposed to call me the second it was final. We had a deal.”
“I was a little busy today.”
“Still, we had a deal.”
“I figured maybe you’d forgotten about that.”
He shook his head. “I think about you
way
more than I should,” he said softly.
His confession warmed her all the way through, the same way a shot of fine whiskey would. “I think about you, too.”
“What do you think about?”
As he moved closer to her, his breath whispered against her neck, making her tremble. “What do you think I think about?”
“Probably the same thing I think about.”
“Does that mean you want to come in?”
As if he couldn’t wait another second to touch her, his hands landed on her hips, sending heat blazing through the silk that covered her. “If I come in, we’ll end up in bed.”
Tiffany wondered if it was possible for a heart to leap right out of a chest. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“I’m awfully sure that I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”
“Well, in that case…” Tiffany somehow managed to saunter away from him on legs that felt like noodles. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she said, “Are you coming?”
“Not yet,” he said as he walked in and shut the door behind him. “But I will be soon and so will you.”
Chapter 3
Just as she’d never found uniforms to be particularly sexy, overly confident men had never really done it for her, either.
Until now.
He walked into the house like he owned it and everyone in it. To say he had a predatory look in his eyes would be putting it mildly. Tiffany marveled at how quickly he got her motor running, and he’d barely touched her. He followed her to the kitchen, also known as the scene of their earlier crime, where she planned to buy herself some time by getting a glass of ice water.
But Blaine had other ideas.
He backed her up against the same expanse of countertop that had hosted their previous encounter and pressed his body tight against hers, placing his hands on either side of her on the counter.
Tiffany gasped from the impact of his erection pressing against her belly.
“Where’s your daughter?”
“With her father.”
His lips hovered over her neck without touching her fevered skin. “I saw you this afternoon.”
“I could feel you watching me.”
“Was that show for me or everyone else?”
“Mostly you,” she somehow managed to say. His nearness, the scent of sandalwood and citrus, the hard press of his muscles against her softness… Tiffany would implode if he didn’t do something,
anything
, very soon. She pressed her pelvis against his erection, drawing a low growl from him. Her fingers curled tightly around the edges of the countertop.
“I didn’t like it,” he said.
Tiffany swallowed hard. “Naughty nurses aren’t your thing?”
“I don’t like that every guy in this town is thinking about you tonight. Fantasizing about you.”
Tiffany glanced up at him. If she were in her right mind, she might’ve been put off by the almost feral look in his eyes. In her current state, the look sent an urgent surge of liquid heat straight to her core. “You don’t?”
He held her gaze as he shook his head.
“Why not?”