Line of Duty

by V. K. Powell

  “One hundred Police Plaza downtown,” Finley said. She kept her answer short. She was being distant, but seeing Dylan with Wendy had thrown her for a loop.

  “Are you all right, Fin?”

  “Yeah, just not much for crowds.” She didn’t add, or seeing you in the arms of another woman.

  Dylan brushed her hand up and down Finley’s back and said, “I wanted to thank you for this afternoon. The kids had a great time, I had fun, and I think it helped Hank too.” When Finley didn’t respond, she added, “Okay, then, I’ll leave you to it.”

  Finley wanted to ask Dylan to stay by her side all evening and then share the night with her, but her courage vanished when she saw Anita and Wendy making their way toward them.

  “I got you a vodka tonic. It seems like that kind of night,” Wendy said, offering Dylan the drink.

  “You know me too well.” Dylan took a long drink and looped her arm through Wendy’s.

  “Guess we’ll see you both later,” Anita said. “And save me a dance, Wendy.”

  Finley guided Anita toward the patio, determined to have a good time in spite of the sick feeling in her stomach from seeing Dylan with another woman.

  * * *

  Dylan watched Finley walk away with her arm around Anita and remembered the first time they’d met—Finley servicing Anita in the on-call room. She gripped her clutch and tried to suppress an unfamiliar and unwanted jealousy that broadsided her. She couldn’t be jealous of Finley because that meant she had deeper feelings for her, wanted more than their casual sexual arrangement. That kind of thinking could lead to breaking her no cops rule, and she couldn’t live with the constant fear.

  Wendy’s hand on her bare back returned her to the moment. “Want to tell me what’s going on with you and tall, blond, and handsome?”

  “Nothing.” She squeezed the lime on the side of her glass into her drink and licked the tart juice from her fingers. Wendy rolled her eyes. She wasn’t buying that answer any more than Dylan was. “We hooked up once. No big deal.” But the pleasure she felt being with Finley—enjoying Hamilton, playing basketball, talking in the healing garden, having sex, actually anytime—hinted at deeper feelings.

  “Nothing? Really? The warning look she gave me when I touched you said different. And the smoldering stare you threw at her says you really like her.”

  Dylan took another sip of her drink. “She’s not what I expected, but she’s a cop and—”

  “I know, your number one rule. Maybe it’s time to consider the possibility that your rule is now ruling your life and not in a good way.”

  “And I thought your specialty was surgery not psychiatry.” Dylan bumped shoulders with Wendy. “What about you and Nurse Anita? She seemed pretty keen to get you alone.”

  “We’ve talked, but it hasn’t actually progressed any further. When I heard she was seeing someone, I backed off. I had no idea who it was until tonight.”

  “I don’t think they’re serious.” But how could she know? Had Finley said they weren’t exclusive when Dylan caught them together? Was it wishful thinking? “Maybe tonight’s your opportunity to find out.”

  “And leave the path to Finley open?” Wendy toasted her glass to Dylan’s. “I like the way you think. Operation Separation is hereby initiated. I’ll ask Anita to dance, and you find Finley in the garden.”

  “But…I need to mingle and—”

  “Don’t you dare say you don’t want her as far away from Anita as possible.”

  The thought of Anita’s, or any other woman’s, hands on Finley brought Dylan’s drink clawing up her throat, but she wasn’t ready to admit that aloud.

  “I want them separated as soon as possible and I didn’t even realize it until tonight.” Wendy gave Dylan her puppy-dog eyes. “Please? Help a sister out.”

  Dylan finished her drink. “Fine. For you. But give me time to work the room or my family won’t be happy.”

  “I’m quite sure I can occupy Anita for more than one dance.” Wendy kissed her on the cheek, downed her martini, and headed for the garden.

  Dylan worked her way around the crowded room, thanking folks for attending the event and for their financial support of the Carlyle Foundation. When she glanced at her watch, almost two hours had passed, and Wendy and Anita were still on the dance floor, but she didn’t see Finley. Did she want to be with Finley? Had her feelings grown in spite of her efforts to maintain distance?

  Wendy guided Anita into an alcove and gave her a quick kiss, and Dylan breathed easier. Definitely what she wanted with Finley. She was about to search for Finley, but her mother caught her arm and pulled her toward the front of the room. Time for the family’s public appreciation speech and the announcement of auction winners.

  Bennett brought the music to a halt, silenced the room, and handed a microphone to Mama, who greeted and thanked the crowd for their attendance and contributions. Dylan counted the minutes, anxious to go find Finley before she got bored or a better offer and left.

  Dylan waited until all the winners were announced before she ordered another drink and a beer for Finley and stepped out onto the patio, but Finley wasn’t there. She checked the grounds nearby and around the corners near the street and finally spotted Finley at the gardens near Blandwood Mansion.

  Dylan avoided the moonlight and stuck to the shadows, her heels sinking into the plush grass as she edged closer to catch a glimpse of Finley unawares. She was staring at the sky, fists clenched at her sides, a contrast to the playful, relaxed Finley on the basketball court earlier. What was she thinking? Was she upset that Anita and Wendy were dancing? Was she annoyed that Dylan hadn’t asked her to the event?

  “Fin, are you okay?” Finley didn’t move, and Dylan wasn’t sure if she’d heard her, so she asked again, “Are you all right, Fin?”

  Finley’s hands relaxed at her sides and she blew out a long breath. “I thought I imagined your voice. Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “I brought refreshments.” She handed the beer to Finley and came closer. “Is it okay that I’m here? If you’d prefer to be alone, I’ll go.”

  “It’s fine.” Finley continued to stare at the sky.

  They stood in silence for a while, both enjoying the light of the full moon and the beat of music from the gala. Dylan felt like she was intruding on a private moment and turned to leave.

  “Don’t go. I’m glad you’re here. It’s like you materialized from my thoughts.”

  “So, you were thinking about me, again, Masters?”

  “Who is Wendy?”

  Finley’s reserved behavior suddenly made sense. She was struggling with the green-eyed monster too, and Dylan knew instinctively not to kid her about it. “We serve as each other’s faux dates for events if we don’t have a real one and don’t want to be hit on all night. Nothing for you to worry about.” She paused, considered her question, and asked, “And Anita?”

  “Like I said earlier, a promise I made months before I met you.” Finley turned and looked at her for the first time. “Did we just cross the line into exclusivity?”

  Dylan chuckled and tucked her arm through Finley’s. “Something certainly shifted.” The possibility surged through Dylan leaving her excited and weak. Exclusivity was the last thing she’d expected from Finley Masters, ever. “For God’s sake don’t tell anyone or they’ll have us committed.”

  “Agreed.” Finley took their drinks and set them down on the raised border surrounding a grouping of roses. “I’d really like to kiss you, if that’s okay.”

  Not at all what Dylan expected, but Finley surprised her a lot. She could say no, walk away, and not look back because kissing without sex implied a level of affection she wasn’t ready to admit she felt. But they had just tacitly declared exclusivity. And she didn’t want to walk away.

  Finley stepped closer, so close that if Dylan breathed deeply, their breasts would touch, and she wanted that touch. Seeing Finley so handsome and vulnerable in the moonlight and willing to ask for what she wanted had op
ened something inside Dylan. “Kiss me.”

  Finley slid an arm around Dylan’s waist and brought them together. With her other hand, she caressed Dylan’s face with a feather touch and traced her fingers across her forehead, down her cheek, and then cupped her chin. “You are so beautiful. I can’t even…” She leaned in and outlined Dylan’s lips with the tip of her tongue before kissing her lightly. She pulled back, as if giving Dylan a chance to reconsider.

  But Dylan threaded her hand through Finley’s hair and brought them back together. The next kiss was hot, deep, and hungry. Their tongues probed and played in each other’s mouths, bringing Dylan up on her toes and tighter against Finley’s body. “So…good.”

  “Dylan…I…”

  “Shush,” Dylan breathed. “Just keep kissing me, Fin. Don’t stop.”

  Dylan lost herself in the intensity of their kisses and the melding of their bodies. Time stalled, and the surroundings vanished until all that remained was the moonlight enveloping them like a protective glow. Nothing could tear them apart or hurt them here. They were safe.

  “Ah-hum.” Wendy cleared her throat, and Finley reluctantly stepped away from Dylan.

  “Yes?” Dylan asked without breaking eye contact with Finley.

  “Anita is ready to go. In the South, you leave the party with the one you came with, so I wanted to make sure I didn’t commit a social faux pas or create an enemy by escorting her home, but it looks like I’m safe.”

  Finley started toward the Carriage House. “I should probably say good-bye.”

  Wendy stepped into her path. “She’s good. Trust me.” She nodded back toward Dylan. “Carry on. I’ll catch you later, Dylan.”

  “Thanks.” Dylan waited until Wendy was out of sight and opened her arms to Finley. “Shall we carry on?”

  “I’d prefer to take you home with me if you’re okay with that.”

  “Sounds perfect.” She texted Mama to let her know she was getting a ride home. Mama texted back. Bring her to brunch tomorrow. Her mother didn’t miss much. Dylan hooked her thumb into Finley’s back belt loop as they walked toward the Jeep.

  “Will you do me one favor?” Finley asked.

  “Yes.” Dylan was surprised by how quickly she answered without reservations.

  “Promise not to leave again without waking me up.”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “How late you keep me up. I have early shift in the morning, but I promise to try. You sleep like the dead.” Was there a deeper meaning behind Finley’s request, behind her agreement? Were they both saying the same thing—that they wanted to spend more time together, get to know each other, and see where it led? Dylan took a deep breath. She was wishing exactly that.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The short ride to Finley’s house seemed to take forever. Sexual tension pulsed between them, and Dylan slid her hand along the firm muscle of Finley’s thigh as she drove, unable to keep from touching her. “I’ve never been quite so handsy with anyone before.”

  Finley grinned at her. “And surprisingly, I don’t mind.”

  “You don’t like being touched? We’ve already established you like being in charge.”

  “No one has ever touched me the way you do, and yeah, I like it a lot.”

  “And how is that?” Dylan asked, practically purring as she caressed higher.

  “Like you’re pouring yourself into every touch.” Finley stopped the car in her driveway but didn’t look at her, almost as if she’d gone shy.

  “It’s how you make me feel,” Dylan said. She leaned over to kiss Finley, but she got out of the Jeep instead and came around to Dylan’s door.

  “We should probably take this inside. I don’t feel like giving the neighborhood a show.”

  Finley clasped Dylan’s hand and escorted her to the front door where a folded piece of paper was wedged between the screen and wooden doors. She pulled it loose, unlocked the door, and waved Dylan inside.

  “Are you being evicted?” Dylan chuckled.

  Finley unfolded the paper and gave it a quick read. “Not yet, but my Realtor has an offer on the house. I wonder why she didn’t text me?”

  “You’re really selling?” Dylan dropped her clutch and coat on a side chair and turned to face Finley.

  “Probably. The only pleasant memories here have been with you and…excuse me. I need to get out of this monkey suit ASAP.”

  “Yes, please. It reeks of Anita’s questionable perfume.”

  “Jealous much?”

  “No more than you, Officer Masters.”

  “Then you should be boiling. I almost told Surgeon Wendy to keep her hands to herself but refrained for the sake of your family.”

  Dylan gave Finley a gentle push toward the bedroom. “And I’m grateful.”

  Finley tried to capture her hand, but Dylan danced away. “Would you like something more comfortable? I probably have an old pair of sweats that would work.”

  Without answering, Dylan followed her to the bedroom. She wanted Finley right now but she also wanted to stretch their evening out as long as possible. Her body screamed for release, while her mind clung to the intimate connection they’d established in the garden. They had agreed on exclusivity, but was it purely sexual or did it mean more? She wanted it to.

  Finley retrieved a pair of sweats from the closet and placed them on the foot of the bed. “Try these.” Dylan stopped in the doorway and watched Finley shuck off her coat and slide her tie from her neck. With a flick of her wrist, she snapped the tie toward her. “Are you coming in?”

  She shook her head and waved her hand. “I’m going to watch you change clothes. Please continue.” Something about Finley brought out a brazenness Dylan hadn’t experienced with other women. She’d taken charge of their first sexual encounter, and now she wanted an equal playing field. She’d never totally surrendered to anyone, any more than she imagined Finley ever completely gave up control, but Dylan wanted to test both their boundaries.

  “O—kay.” Finley pulled off her red vest next and placed it on the bed on top of her coat. She bent forward, untied the black Oxfords, and slipped out of them.

  Dylan’s mouth watered at Finley in bare feet with her open collar revealing a glimpse of skin, but otherwise fully clothed. Her shirt and slacks highlighted the musculature of her body, and Dylan ached to touch her.

  “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” Finley asked as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt.

  “So much.”

  As the last button came loose, Finley gripped the sides and peeled them back but stopped short of removing the shirt completely. She grinned and reached for the zipper of her slacks.

  “Oh my,” Dylan breathed. Finley’s exposed chest made her knees tremble. Finley was gorgeous naked, but seeing her partially undressed, untouched, and unapologetic revved Dylan up even more.

  Finley shimmied out of her tuxedo pants and stood in only a pair of black low-rise briefs and her open shirt. Watching Finley move, actually everything about her, turned Dylan on. She’d have to touch her soon and no longer kidded herself that she could keep from it.

  Finley carefully folded the pants over a hanger, added the vest and coat, and hung them in the closet before turning back to Dylan. “If you want to see more, you have to shed something. I feel like I’m losing at strip poker.”

  “Trust me, you’re not losing.” Dylan finally moved to Finley, ran her hands inside her shirt and down her sides to the top of her briefs, and pulled their hips together. “You’re far from losing.” She leaned in and kissed the hollow at Finley’s neck before turning around. “Help me out of this?” Finley’s warm hands on her bare shoulders brought Dylan up on tiptoes. “Why does your touch feel so damn good? Every. Single. Time.”

  “Because I have special talents.” Finley was so close that her breath raised goose bumps on Dylan’s skin. Finley slid the spaghetti straps off Dylan’s arms and eased the fabric down her body, following each fold until t
he dress pooled on the floor at Dylan’s feet. Her touch was gentle, unlike her assertive moves on the basketball court earlier, and Dylan craved both equally.

  Finley carefully placed Dylan’s dress over the back of a chair before kneeling in front of her and lifting her right high-heeled foot onto her leg. “May I?”

  “I’d be happy if you stayed right there for a few seconds,” Dylan said.

  “You like me on my knees?”

  “I like your hands on my leg.”

  “Whatever you want.” Finley chuckled and looked down at the straps of Dylan’s shoe. “How did you get into these things, and more importantly, how do I get you out of them?”

  Dylan rested a hand on Finley’s broad shoulders, stirring as the muscle tensed under her touch, and pointed. “There’s a buckle at the back. Release it and the rest unwinds easily.”

  Finley followed her instructions, tossed the shoe to one side, and slid her hands up Dylan’s leg. “You’re so soft and hot and you’re making it hard for me to be a good host. I wanted to redress you, offer you a drink, and make a nice fire before I devoured you.”

  Dylan gasped as Finley inched her hand slowly to the inside of her thigh. Her left leg wobbled, and she tightened her grip on Finley’s shirt, bunching the fabric in her fists. “We…might not…make it.”

  Finley glanced up with a mischievous grin. “To which part?”

  “Any of it.” She sucked in a breath when Finley stroked her soaked bikinis. “Oh, God.”

  “You can’t wait until I perform my hosting duties?”

  “Finley.”

  “Yes, Dylan.”

  “Stop teasing and finish undressing me stat. I’m not a patient woman when I’m in pain.” She clawed Finley’s shirt off her shoulders and tossed it on the floor, desperate to touch skin.

  “You like me on my knees, and I like you begging.” Finley slid her hand down Dylan’s leg to her foot, placed it gingerly on the floor, reached for the other, and unlaced the straps.