Guarding Suzannah

by Norah Wilson

  ~*~

  Quigg inhaled, breathing the subtle scent of her hair. He couldn’t quite identify it, but it smelled great. Something exotic, like grape seed extract or green tea. Some organic thing or other. He might not know what it was, but he doubted he’d ever forget it. It was imprinted indelibly on his brain.

  As was the taste of her, red wine and woman and passion.

  Passion. God, did she really think she lacked it?

  She lifted her head. “Thank you.”

  He’d restored the bra over her breasts, but it was still unfastened, her shirt still hanging open. Yet it wasn’t her delectable body that drew his gaze. He was more interested in what was written on her face.

  Gratitude. Peace. And her body. Even now, it felt relaxed and boneless, as though she’d melted against him. It made the ache in his groin seem a small price to pay.

  “My pleasure. Or couldn’t you tell?”

  “I could tell. I guess that means you get a passing grade.” She laid her head back down on his shoulder and his arms came around her easily, as though they’d done this a hundred times. How’d it come to feel so natural, so fast? The thought gave him a little bit of a jolt. Time to move.

  “The History Channel.”

  She pulled back. “Huh?”

  “You asked me what my TV tastes ran to. I like the History Channel. And police dramas. And baseball. Which means I should be able to keep myself occupied while you work.”

  “You’re going to dump me off your lap to watch reruns of NYPD Blue?”

  She said it jokingly, but he saw the ghost of a shadow in her eyes. Could she really not know how badly he burned for her?

  “Baby, I’m not doing it because I want to. I’m gonna do it because I said I would. And to score points for my super human restraint.”

  She smiled. “Well, okay, then. When you put it like that.”

  So saying, she pushed away from his chest, levering herself to her feet. Suddenly, his arms felt empty, bereft. Instead of releasing her hand, he hauled her back down again. Surprised, she fell onto him, into him. Oh, Lord, it was sweet, to catch the laughter on her lips, feel her sigh her pleasure against his mouth. Minutes later, heart pounding just as hard as before, he set her away again.

  “Damn, woman, I’ve gone and missed the first fifteen minutes of my show. Sipowicz’ll have it all wrapped up without me.”

  She laughed, and this time there were no shadows in those baby blues. They glowed with a new light as she untangled herself and stood up. Her clothing was all askew, her mouth as kiss swollen as he’d pictured it in his hottest fantasies, but somehow she managed to retain that proper, regal dignity that was so much a part of her. A treacherous tenderness unfurled in the vicinity of his heart.

  “Suzannah?”

  She glanced up from fixing her blouse.

  “This was just a taste. There’s lots more where that came from.”

  She blushed and it was all he could do not to haul her down again. Fortunately, he knew his own limits. If she landed on the couch with him again, she wouldn’t get up for a long while.

  “Here.” She picked something up and flipped it at him. His hand shot out in time to keep the object from hitting him in the chest. The remote control for the television. “Don’t keep Andy waiting. Lord knows he probably can’t solve the case without your armchair advice.” With that, she collected her briefcase from the table in the hall and disappeared.

  Grinning, he pointed the remote at the TV, clicked the power button and found NYPD Blue. Did she have him pegged or what? Shifting to adjust his still aching groin, he sprawled back to enjoy the show.

  Seconds later, he heard the clicking of toenails on hardwood floor. Bandy. Poor bugger. He'd forgotten him. Suzannah must have liberated him from the kitchen. Automatically, he lifted his hands to shield himself as the dog sprang up onto the couch, but the mutt still managed to land one foot—and a good quarter of his weight—dangerously close to Quigg’s groin.

  Quigg swore. “Miserable mongrel. I don’t know why I keep you around.” Bandy gazed at him lovingly. Quigg cursed again, but settled a hand on the dog’s ruff, stroking the silky coat as he turned his attention back to the television.