What a Woman Wants

by Tori Carrington

John caught her watching him and growled low in his throat. “What do you think of poultry for dinner?”

  Darby finally gave in and laughed so hard she nearly dropped the half-dozen eggs in her own basket.

  “What’s so damn funny?” he asked.

  She pointed at him, trying to straighten from being doubled up holding her side. “You are.”

  His dark expression helped her get control of herself. She guessed it wasn’t often that Sheriff John Sparks found himself in a situation he didn’t know how to handle.

  “Here, let me show you the secret to getting the eggs without getting your hand pecked off.”

  She ignored the little voice in her head that told her she wasn’t supposed to be helping him and stepped closer. “Here,” she said, taking his hand.

  The instant her skin made contact with his, she felt a spark of electricity that traveled the length of her arm and back again. She cleared her throat. “You move the chicken like so,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Then you sneak the egg right out from under them.” She guided his hand, seeing his amazement that the chicken didn’t launch an all-out attack. She cleared her throat. “Okay?”

  He put the egg in the basket. “You could have saved me a lot of trouble by telling me how to do it in the first place.”

  “Yes, but then I would have missed out on the fun.”

  Suddenly all amusement vanished from John’s handsome face, replaced by an intensity that filled her with heat. His pupils dilated, his throat worked around a swallow, and then he was reaching for her. Darby’s breath caught in her throat as his hands settled on her hips, then dragged her nearer to him so that only mere millimeters separated them. She took a deep breath, the move putting the tips of her breasts into direct contact with the hard wall of his chest.

  “We’re, um, supposed to be working.”

  “Oh?” John said. “I think I deserve a reward for what you just put me through. Better yet, incentive.”

  Then John was doing the one thing Darby sensed he always had control over. He was kissing her. Thoroughly. Passionately. Hungrily. His tongue melding with hers, then retreating, his fingers softly stroking her hips through her pants, then hauling her against him, pressing his arousal against her belly. She gasped, all heat and fire, her bones dissolving under the skill of his onslaught.

  Dear Lord, this wasn’t going at all the way she’d planned….

  Chapter Ten

  Boy, this was even better than he’d hoped.

  John deepened the kiss, filled with the urgent desire to inhale Darby and all she embodied. She was, in that moment, everything he wanted in the world. He couldn’t think of a single place he’d rather be than right here, holding her, kissing her. Feeling her body leaning into his. Feeling the promise of a more intimate meeting grow with each beat of his heart.

  “Holy cow,” Darby whispered, laying her cheek against his, her fingers digging into his back.

  He chuckled softly. “Please tell me you don’t have any cows.”

  She drew back and looked at him, a smile in her green eyes. “No cows.”

  “Good.”

  “Not yet.”

  Her words seemed to imply that he would still be around when and if she decided to add to her menagerie. A slip? Or a subconscious wish she had yet to realize?

  He groaned and pulled her back for another kiss. The humming sound she made wound around him like a velvet cord, drawing him closer to her in a way he’d never been to anyone else. He moved his hand up to cup a soft breast. Her ragged moan increased his heat quotient by ten so that his arousal throbbed against her stomach, begging for a deeper, more meaningful connection.

  “I want you. Now,” he whispered roughly, backing her toward the door to the barn, then swiveling her inside. He closed the barrier, then pushed her up against it, his actions braver than when they were out in the open, the girls in view. He pushed her shirt up and freed a ripe breast, fastening his mouth around a delectably erect crest even as her own hand sought and found his erection under the denim of his jeans. He quickly realized that the control he’d been seeking by kissing her to begin with was literally shifting hands, putting her firmly in the driver’s seat. He blinked to look into her eyes, finding that she liked things that way. She popped the button on the fly of his jeans, slid her fingers inside and began stroking. He nearly roared with longing as she rubbed the moist top of his erection, then brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked.

  “You’re going to end me right here and now,” he said under his breath, unzipping her pants and tugging them down over her hips and legs. She eagerly stepped out of them, then lifted her arms for him to tear off her shirt. Then he thrust her against the door, wrapping her legs around his waist. A couple of moves and his arousal rested promisingly against her slick opening

  John purposely held back from breaking the threshold as he sought and held her gaze. “Darby?”

  She restlessly wet her lips, her green eyes almost black in the dim interior of the barn. “Hmm?”

  She tilted her hips and sought his erection with her hands, intent on forcing him to continue. He caught those hands and pulled them up above her head and held them there. His gaze wandered down her gloriously naked body, pausing at her breasts, heaving with her labored breathing, then down to where her silky wedge of hair tangled with his.

  He met her gaze again, using every ounce of willpower he possessed not to thrust into her to the hilt. “Marry me,” he whispered.

  Her breathing hitched and he fit the tip of his arousal against her more tightly, a small move all that was needed to breach the entrance.

  “No,” she whispered, making that small move. Now she surrounded him, pulsing, squeezing, hot and wet.

  John’s groan was as much a result of her response as it was his response to her wanton moves. He released her wrists and snaked his hands around to her bottom, finding and following the shallow crevice from behind, opening her further to him as he pulled back and thrust deeply.

  “Yes,” she moaned without shame, digging her fingers into his shoulders. “Oh, yes.”

  John thrust again and again, deeper and deeper, until he could go no farther, feeling the shuddering of her slick muscles as she climaxed, vowing to get her to say yes to his proposal with the same veracity that she welcomed him into her body. He bent his knees, balancing her on his upper thighs, then thrust his hips up, bringing her down on his pulsing shaft even farther. She exploded around him again, and this time he allowed himself to travel at warp speed down that swirling, twirling tunnel of color and pure sensation, marveling at the richness of it, the overwhelming, humbling nature of it.

  They stayed like that for long minutes, neither of them moving but for their breathing, their skin saturated with sweat, moved beyond words and sharing something no one could consciously give.

  A sound slowly penetrated the fog that acted as a buffer between them and the rest of the world, followed by children laughing. Darby’s muscles tightened where she still surrounded him and John groaned softly, wanting the world to go away again so he could—

  “The girls,” she whispered fiercely. “They’re coming.”

  They weren’t the only ones, John thought, fighting to regain control even as his hips unconsciously bucked under her.

  Darby gasped, her eyes full of passion as she met his gaze. Then she wriggled until he was forced to withdraw from her dripping wetness. Her feet were on the ground and in a flash she was dressed. He still fumbled with the fly of his jeans.

  “Mom?” a young voice called out, and the door on the opposite side of the barn opened, inviting a thick shaft of bright sunlight to play with the dust motes in the dim interior.

  Darby smoothed back her hair and opened the door to the chicken coop that they had put to better use, pulling John with her. She looked very much like a woman who had just been thoroughly made love to. Her color was high. Her lips marvelously swollen, her eyes bright. And just looking at her made John want to drive the twins to Jolie a
nd Dusty’s for the weekend, so that he could have his fill of this generous woman.

  “Mom?” The voice was closer now, and Erin’s tawny head popped into the opening.

  “What is it, Erin?” Darby asked, feigning normalcy.

  Erin looked at John, her eyes narrowing as if she knew what they’d been doing and didn’t approve.

  “The phone was ringing and Lindy picked it up.”

  John remembered the cordless that Darby had put on the steps outside the house.

  “It’s for Uncle Sparky.”

  Darby ran her hand over her tousled hair for the sixth time in as many minutes, still internally shattered by John’s amorous attentions in the barn and the fact that they were nearly caught by the twins and Ellie. Which was stupid, she told herself. She need not be worried. She was an adult capable of making her own decisions. And oh, how right the one in the barn had been! Blood still surged hotly through her veins, making her even more aware of the man she had vowed to stay away from.

  She stood at the kitchen sink, washing juice glasses and discreetly listening in on John’s conversation just outside the screen door.

  “That’s impossible. How could they have escaped?”

  Escaped? A thrill of fear raced across Darby’s skin. She finished the glasses, then put a plate of cookies on the table as a snack for the three girls, who were listening as avidly to John’s conversation as she was. Ellie said something about oatmeal cookies being her favorite and Erin shushed her.

  “Put out an APB. Now,” John ordered, cursing a blue streak that raised even Darby’s brows. “I’ll be at the office in ten.”

  Darby watched as he disconnected the line, then shot into the house and grabbed his keys from where they hung next to hers near the door. He blinked at her, then the girls, as if just realizing they were there.

  “I, um, have to go.”

  “What’s wrong Sheriff John?” Ellie asked, all innocent blue eyes and trembling, crumb-coated lips.

  John held Darby’s gaze for a moment longer, then his eyes softened as he looked at the five-year-old. The little girl had lost her mother in a fire six months ago, and her father was going through rehabilitation after suffering significant burns to a good portion of his body while trying to save his young family. John stepped over to the girl and laid his large hand on her skinny shoulder, then tousled her hair. “Nothing I can’t handle, kiddo.” He got a faraway look on his face. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Darby had her arms wrapped around herself, warding off a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.

  “I’ll call you from the office later,” he said, crossing to stand in front of Darby.

  She nodded. He didn’t say he’d be home later. Didn’t offer an explanation of why he was going to the office. She shuddered and hugged herself more tightly, all too familiar with the MO. Lord knows she’d gone through it enough times with Erick.

  “Okay,” she croaked, though she felt anything but okay.

  John looked puzzled. Then he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. Ellie giggled, the twins shifted restlessly, and Darby felt her skin heat to the roots of her hair. He rested his hand on the side of her neck, his thumb lightly caressing her. “Everything will be fine, Darby.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t buy the words for a minute.

  “I’ll explain everything when I get home.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, the words a remarkable crack in the normal routine. Erick had never said he’d explain things. Had rarely shared anything about his job as a firefighter with her. It had frustrated her, often made her feel locked out of an important part of his life. And the phone call today had brought all that back tenfold. Simply because John didn’t say much to her about his job as the sheriff, either.

  She smiled and nodded again.

  Then he was gone.

  And Darby’s hand slid absently to her stomach, as if to protect the baby there.

  Fifteen minutes later John parked his Jeep behind a paramedic truck, then stormed into the sheriff’s office, his breathing irregular, sweat coating the back of his neck, his mind splintered between what he’d been told on the phone and Darby’s reaction to his being called away.

  She’d looked shocked, afraid and heartbroken. And John had known a moment of pause, remembering what she’d gone through before with Erick. Watching her husband leave for a run. Then getting the phone call saying he would never come home again. John hated that, however inadvertently, he was putting her through that again.

  “Somebody tell me what’s going on,” he ordered, bypassing Cole, who stood at the counter in full uniform, and advancing on Ed Hanover, who sat in his usual chair looking anything but usual. A fire-department paramedic was dabbing the back of the older man’s head with a thick wad of cotton, bringing away gobs of blood.

  Cole motioned toward his co-worker. “I checked in about half an hour ago after I couldn’t raise an answer here and found Ed knocked out cold in one of the holding cells.”

  Ed grimaced, his too-thin body wincing away from the paramedic’s hand. “Ow, that hurts.”

  The young paramedic sighed. “Deputy Hanover, I’m going to have to ask you to come to the hospital. You’re going to need some stitches. I also need to make sure you’re not suffering from a concussion.”

  Ed tried to wave him away. “I’ve had worse than this little ding, boy. If you feel around enough, you’ll find the metal plate in there, a souvenir from my second of two tours in Nam.”

  “Just the same…”

  John held his impatience in check. “Ed?”

  The older man blinked up at him. “Sorry, Sparky. I really don’t know what hit me. One minute I was back there picking up the breakfast dishes, the next I woke up to find Cole’s ugly mug staring down at me.”

  Cole held up a mutilated fork, two prongs bent out of place. “They must have used this to jimmy the locks,” he said. “And ambushed Ed when he turned his back.”

  Ed swiped at a spot of food on his shirt. “Look, my uniform is ruined. And I didn’t even get to enjoy the food that ruined it.”

  “Forget the uniform, Ed.” John checked his watch. “What time did you go back there?”

  Ed shrugged. “I can’t be sure exactly. About nine? Maybe it was closer to nine-fifteen?”

  The prisoners should have been fed at about eight.

  Ed cursed and moved away from the paramedic again. “I had some things to do before I went back to clean up the breakfast plates.”

  John paced restlessly across the office. Had Ed gone back immediately, as he should have, he would have known a fork was missing from one of the trays, and the twosome would never have had a chance to use the pilfered fork on the locks.

  It was nearly eleven now. Which meant the escapees had a good two-hour jump on them.

  John abruptly turned away from the counter again before moving to stand in front of the window that overlooked the street. He gazed out at the slice of Old Orchard that he could see. The Hamiltons, a young family, were coming out of the rebuilt General Store with bags of groceries, while Old Man Jake swept the front sidewalk and stopped to talk to them. Elva Mollenkopf was out terrorizing the community at large, coming out of one shop and going into another, her face pinched, her eyes piercing as she sought out her next victim. Penelope Moon was decorating the front of her shop for Easter, placing egg decals around a Keep Sparks as Sheriff poster that sported a picture of him. He cringed and turned from the scene, wondering what the street would look like if the townsfolk knew there were two hardcore criminals out there somewhere. Criminals he’d been in charge of. Criminals capable of anything. Armed criminals. John didn’t have to ask if they’d taken Ed’s gun. That was a given.

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  He turned toward the men. “Cole, get on the horn with everyone you can think of and recruit them for the manhunt. Then I want you out on the west county border between Peterson’s pumpkin patch and the McCrearys’. Send Brady out to cover Route
108. I’m going to call the U.S. Marshal Service and inform them of the break, then head to the police station and pull them in on the hunt.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cole shot into action, pulling the phone forward and popping open the Rolodex. John looked down at his oxford shirt and jeans, surprised to find he wasn’t in uniform. Then he remembered why he wasn’t. He looked up to meet Ed’s gaze. The older man had gone silent, his eyes full of apology, his thin hand reaching for and touching his empty gun holster. “They got my gun, Sparky. They got my gun.”

  John felt a stab of sympathy. Given Ed’s military past, John guessed that the impact on Ed of loss of a firearm was significant.

  “I don’t know what to say, Sparky. Nothing like this has ever happened to me. I’m sorry as hell. I dropped the ball.”

  John continued to look at him. “We all do sometimes, Ed. We all do.” But now it was his job to pick the ball back up and run with it. That is, if he could find it. “You get to the hospital and get that wound looked after. Then if you can, get back here and start making calls to the perimeter farms and ask if they’ve seen anything out of the ordinary.”

  “We’ll do,” Ed said with renewed energy, visibly relieved. And John knew it wasn’t because his job was safe. The man was genuinely upset that he had caused so much trouble and was grateful for John’s forgiveness.

  John strode into his office, picked up the address book for the numbers of the neighboring counties’ sheriff’s offices, then hurried out the door and into his Jeep.

  He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

  By ten o’clock that night, Darby had cleaned the farmhouse from top to bottom and was contemplating the two criminals John had found camping out at Old Violet Jenkins’s place. She and Jolie knew that John would blame himself for their escape this morning and would work until he dropped trying to bring them back in.

  Merely hearing his voice had amplified her need to see him, to make sure he was all right. So she’d prepared a dinner plate filled with his favorites and piled the girls into the car with the promise of an ice-cream cone, then driven to the sheriff’s office. Only, he wasn’t there. Instead, she’d talked to Ed, who was sporting half a roll of gauze on his head, then had been forced to leave the plate for when John might return, along with a note saying she would wait up for him. She’d wanted to add a request that he be careful, but remembered Erick hating when she’d said that and left it off.