Love Bites: Five original stories edited by Lori Foster Love UnleashedMane HavenMolly Wants a HeroDog TagsSmookie and the Bandit

by Lori Foster

“Are you okay?”

  Groaning, she forced herself to move and slowly brought her knees under her. It was harder than she would have expected. She raised a shaky hand to her temple, wincing as the raw scrape on her palm met her tender eye and cheek. “Is he gone?”

  “Yes, you’re safe, ma’am. He was wearing a mask. Did he say anything? Any idea who he was?”

  “N-no. I mean, he said my name. Told me to shut up. But he used a weird tone. I didn’t recognize his voice.”

  “Okay, so it wasn’t a random attack. He knew who you were. Do you work here?”

  She nodded.

  “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Molly— Molly Peterson.”

  “Molly, it’s me. Officer Wade King. We talked earlier, remember? You’re safe now, don’t worry.”

  She stared at him. Despite the trauma she’d just suffered, she wasn’t too far gone to notice he was just as gorgeous as she’d imagined. Sandy-blond hair. Brown eyes—dark, deep orbs that reminded her of mink. A firm, square jaw, a full bottom lip and a slightly cleft chin. The first word that popped into her head was yum.

  But despite all that, it was really his voice she focused on.

  That voice. She recognized that voice.

  “Molly, I said you’re safe. Did you hear me?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m safe. And you’re—you’re hot.”

  Chapter Two

  Bemused, Wade stared at Molly Peterson, who brought a hand to her forehead as if she’d suddenly gotten dizzy. “What I mean is, of course I remember you. You called earlier. About your grandfather and the ducks. I recognize your voice.”

  Wade said, “That’s right,” even as he forced his expression to remain impassive.

  Molly thought he was “hot,” but Wade didn’t smile for three reasons. First, her face was red where the bastard had hit her, and his adrenaline was still rushing through his veins at the close call she’d suffered. Two, he was keenly aware of the flush of embarrassment that washed across Molly’s face and he didn’t want to contribute to her embarrassment even more. And three, he was too busy trying to regain his equilibrium, not just because of the attack he’d seen, but because of the intense response he was having to the woman in front of him.

  Ten minutes ago, he’d been doing his nightly patrol down Broad Street when he’d had the strong urge to swing by the nearby clinic’s parking lot again. Maybe it was because he’d talked to the woman named Molly on the phone earlier and knew she’d be leaving work late, or maybe it was because he’d continued to think about her long after he’d hung up, picturing a sultry brunette with kissable, lickable and caressable, pale skin. Whatever the reason, something had led him here. Only the clinic had been quiet, no signs of trouble anywhere.

  He’d moved on to the lot across the street when he’d seen a woman exit the medical-clinic building. He’d stared at her, wondering if the pretty brunette with—yes, it certainly looked like she had smooth, milky skin just waiting to be properly appreciated—could possibly be the Yankee he’d talked with. That woman’s voice had been kind, but at the same time all crisp with sharp edges. It had made him think of a buttoned-up schoolmarm and her ruler and all the fun things she could do with it.

  Yet, despite his curiosity and slightly kinky thoughts—or maybe because of them—he hadn’t planned on approaching her. It hadn’t seemed appropriate. Plus he hadn’t wanted to scare her. But then he’d been the one who was scared.

  He’d seen the man jump her.

  And the only thing he’d been able to think was I won’t be able to get to her in time. Unbelievably, he was shaking slightly and he could see that her own calm was starting to disintegrate as shock settled in.

  When Molly moved her hand back to her head, Wade’s eyes narrowed. “Your head hurt?”

  “A little. I must have hit it when I fell….”

  He shifted closer and gently ran his fingers along her skull, wincing when he felt a sizable lump near her left temple. But she wasn’t bleeding and her eyes looked clear. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Three.”

  Gently, he helped her to her feet, but kept a supporting arm under her elbow.

  A squawk rang out, followed by soft thuds.

  “Oh my Lord! Gator!” Molly exclaimed.

  Huh? “Excuse me?”

  “Gator. My parrot. His cage—”

  That’s right. She’d been holding something as she’d walked. From where he’d been, he hadn’t been able to make out what it was, but… Her gaze flickered frantically around her, and Wade started checking behind the nearby cars. Before he got to the third one, he heard more scrapes and flutters. A second later, he saw the cage with the parrot inside. He took a step toward it, freezing when it screeched, “Bastard!”

  He heard a moan behind him and turned.

  Molly was there with a hand over her mouth.

  He cocked an amused brow.

  Unbelievably, when she lowered her hand, she was smiling a chagrined smile. “I called him a bastard. The man who attacked me… Now who knows how long Gator will be saying it.”

  “But you’ll be around to hear him say it,” he pointed out softly. “That’s all that matters. Here, let me get the cage for you.” He picked it up and gently righted it.

  “Bastard.” Squawk. “Bastard.”

  He laughed, the parrot’s words managing to relieve some of the tension he was feeling.

  “Guess he’s got my number.” He handed her the cage and she shushed the bird, sticking her fingers through the wires so she could gently caress his feathers.

  “It’s okay, buddy. You’re okay,” Molly crooned. The bird instantly head-butted her fingers and calmed down.

  Wade stared in amazement. “I didn’t know parrots were so affectionate.”

  “You’d be surprised. Gator’s got a mouth on him, but he’s definitely a lover, not a fighter.”

  “Lucky guy.”

  The instant the words popped out of his mouth, the air became supercharged. The spark of awareness that had previously lit her eyes flamed out of control, and he felt an answering warmth spread throughout his body.

  He shook his head and tried to concentrate on the fact she still looked slightly pale and traumatized. Then he didn’t even have to try. Her body vibrated with fine tremors and he heard her breath hitching.

  “Molly,” he said gently. Taking the cage from her, he set it on the ground then placed his hands on her shoulders to turn her.

  “I’m okay,” she breathed out, but her stalwart expression crumpled and a tear leaked out of her eye.

  “Oh, baby girl,” he said. “Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  Her fingers grasped at his uniform, and suddenly her face was buried in his neck and her body plastered up against his. He hissed at the way his body automatically reacted to her, hardening and preparing for what it thought would be a huge slice of heaven. He tried to shift himself to the side so he didn’t alarm her with his erection, but she simply burrowed deeper into him.

  He held her and stroked her hair for several long minutes, until she pulled back. He tried to smile as he swiped her tears away with his thumb.

  Need pressed down on him. It wasn’t professional and it wasn’t politically correct, but he wanted to kiss her. They were both shaking, their bodies thrumming with the need to affirm she was whole and healthy in the most basic way possible. His gaze latched on to her mouth and her eyes widened, not in alarm but desire. She licked her lips. Inwardly, he groaned, wanting to chase her little pink tongue with his own. Hell, he didn’t want to just chase it. He wanted to catch it, rub it, devour it. Devour her. Instead, he forced himself to draw back. He was acutely aware of the bruised swelling near her eye. Once again, rage filled him, and he didn’t doubt that if he had her attacker here, he’d be tempted to exercise a little police brutality on him. Of course, he wouldn’t. At least, he hoped he wouldn’t.

  “You okay now?” he said, his voice crisper than he intended, because even thinking
the words police brutality had him shaken. He wasn’t that type of guy. Didn’t have an anger-management problem. But with her, when he remembered watching the man’s fist striking her face… He reined in his spiraling emotions with iron-willed control, knowing he needed to keep things cool and calm, if only for her sake.

  It was as if his gaining control gave her the ability to do so, as well. She blinked and her face cleared. She moved away from him, and he frowned at the feeling of loss he experienced. He wasn’t sure why he was having such a strong reaction to her. She was pretty, but he’d dated and bedded much more beautiful women. What was it about this sweet, dark-haired yank that made him want to sweep her up and shelter her away?

  His eyes flickered to the office behind her. “We need to have you checked out. You said there’s medical staff inside, right?”

  She shook her head before wincing and raising her hand to her temple again. “No. I mean, yes, there’s medical staff here, but I’m fine. I—”

  Like hell she was. But he could tell immediately she was going to be stubborn about this. “We need to take photographs of your injuries,” he pointed out. “For the report.”

  “Report?”

  “Crime report. Incident report. About the attack.”

  “Oh.” She sighed and looked at him pleadingly. “I’m so tired. I really, really just want to go home. I’ve worked almost twenty-four hours straight. Can’t we just—I don’t know—can’t I come in and have pictures taken tomorrow? Talk to you then? The bruises from where he hit me will be more visible by then anyway.”

  He hesitated, but then shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go without getting checked out first.”

  She sighed. “Okay. But I’ll have to bring Gator with me.”

  “Of course,” he said, and picked up the parrot cage.

  Twenty minutes later, after conducting an exam and taking pictures, a doctor reassured them that she’d be fine. He did, however, recommend her getting a ride home.

  Wade nodded. “I can give you a lift.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Molly rushed out. “I’ve already called my friend Nina.”

  Nina, Wade thought. The name coupled with their location probably wasn’t coincidence. “Would you be talking about Nina Whitaker, by any chance?”

  “Yes. You know her?”

  He nodded. “Nina interned here several months back.”

  Molly’s lips pressed together. “That’s right. Shall I tell her you said hello?” Though the question was polite, he thought he saw a spark of jealousy in her gaze. Wishful thinking?

  “Sure,” he said. “But before she gets here, I’d like to ask you a couple more questions. You up for that?”

  She sighed, her exhaustion magnified by the swelling and bruises on her face, but she gamely nodded. “Ask away.”

  “You told me he said your name. Do you know anyone who might want to hurt you? Ex-boyfriends? Anyone bothering you at work or the gym?”

  “No. Well, I was dating someone a while back who didn’t like it when I broke up with him.”

  Amazing how much it bothered him that she’d been dating someone. Anyone. Amazing how satisfied it made him feel that she’d broken it off. “How long ago?” He pulled out his pen and notepad.

  “Six weeks.”

  “What do you mean, he didn’t like it? Did he get violent?”

  “He grabbed me pretty roughly. But he didn’t hit me.”

  His jaw clenched. “What’s his name?”

  To his surprise, she looked away, her expression turning stony. “I’d rather not say. He isn’t the type of person to wear a ski mask and jump me in a dark parking lot, and I don’t want to be accused of causing problems for him.”

  “No one’s above the law, Molly.”

  She turned back to him. “I know that, but you talked about your grandfather’s delicate social position, and this person has his own status to worry about. I have to live here, and I don’t want to make accusations and cause problems unnecessarily. I told you, it’s not him.”

  He stared at her. When it came to ruling out a violent suspect, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about social positioning. But she’d been through a lot and this wasn’t the last conversation he planned on having with her. “We’ll get back to him later. Now, how about anyone else?” he asked, with his pen poised above his notepad.

  “I was carjacked in L.A. a few years ago. I testified at the guy’s trial and he wasn’t really happy with me. Made a few threats. But he should still be in prison.”

  Dear Lord, he thought, trying to visualize her being held at gunpoint. She must have been terrified. He jotted down notes. “What’s his name?”

  “Luther Jones.”

  “How about at work? You get a lot of phone calls from strangers, but you told me your real first name. Do you give it to your callers?”

  “When someone asks, yes.”

  “So the man who attacked you could have been anyone who called?”

  “It’s possible, I suppose. Someone unhappy with what I said.”

  “Or maybe even someone happy,” he pointed out.

  Her face screwed up with confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve got a great bedside manner, even on the phone. Could be someone took a liking to you and wanted to make the connection more personal than professional.”

  “That would be a strange way of asking me out.”

  “It’s certainly not the way I’d go about it.”

  Her eyes widened and she flushed. But it wasn’t just embarrassment he saw on her face. He saw interest there, too. The same interest he felt coursing through him, demanding he find out if her lips were as soft and lush as they looked. But now wasn’t the time….

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m getting ahead of myself.” He gave her a hint of a smile before wiping his expression clean. “So any weird calls that indicate someone has a personal interest in you?”

  “I can’t remember anything specific. I even take notes, and I would have kept them if I was concerned, so… No, absolutely not.”

  “You sound sure,” he said.

  “Oh, I’m certain.”

  His brows raised. “Nothing a little out of the ordinary?”

  “People have called asking if we remove bugs that the government implants in citizens’ brains,” she said dryly. “There’s plenty out of the ordinary with my job.”

  “I guess that’s true. I should know, with my grandfather hunting imaginary ducks.”

  She smiled slightly—a sweet, humorous, gentle smile—and he forced himself to put his pen and paper away.

  Okay, he’d satisfied himself that she was going to be okay and she had a reliable ride home. His backup had radioed in, and unfortunately, Molly’s attacker had gotten away. He really needed to get back on patrol. But first… He reached into his front uniform pocket, pulled out his card and scribbled on the back of it. “Here’s my card with my personal cell phone number. You call me if you need anything.”

  She glanced at the card and bit her lip. “The number. It’s the same.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “When you called me earlier. About your grandfather. You used your cell phone.”

  The right side of his mouth tipped up. “That’s right. Very observant.”

  “I try to be. And I’m normally really good with voices. The guy who attacked me, he was disguising his voice, otherwise I might be able to give you a better lead.”

  “It’s okay. But if you remember anything else—”

  “Sambuca,” she exclaimed. “His breath, it smelled like sambuca!”

  “Isn’t that an Italian liqueur?”

  “Yes! My grandparents loved it. They used it in their coffee instead of sweetener. They called it caffè corretto.” She smiled at the memory, her expression bittersweet. “Corrected coffee.”

  “They’re gone now?” he asked gently.

  “Yes. Gator belonged to them.”

  He nodded. “So, sambuca. Right. That’
s a unique detail. I’ve never actually tasted it before.”

  “It tastes and smells like licorice. Black licorice.”

  “All right. I’ll keep that in mind. Right now, I’m going to talk to the night guard. Take a look at security tapes. Then I’m going to drive around and see if I can catch sight of our perp. You be sure to call me if you need anything. Otherwise…”

  She paused and looked at him. “Otherwise?”

  He swallowed hard and took a step back. “I’ll see you later. So you can meet my granddaddy. Are we still on for that? I’d understand if you’re calling in sick….”

  She shook her head, then licked her lips, leaving a sheen of moisture he wanted to trace with his finger. “I’m not altering my life for some psycho who hides out in parking lots. I’ll see you later tonight.”

  He smiled. “Tonight. Until then, remember what I said before, too, darlin’. Sweet dreams.”

  Chapter Three

  “Yippee ki-yay.”

  Still groggy from sleep, Molly gradually grew aware of Gator’s squawking in between the incessant buzz of her alarm clock. Sunlight filtered through her fluttering lids and she groaned. She would have grabbed a pillow to block out the noise, but even in her sleep-deprived state she was careful. Besides, instinctively she knew she wasn’t alone. Even now, a male had his face buried in her neck.

  And judging by the smooth, hard surface butting against her, he was happy to see her.

  Gator’s beak rasped lightly against her skin as he once again lifted it to chime, “Yippee ki-yay.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said. “The first movie was great, but then what happened? Bruce is due another blockbuster, don’t you think?”

  Gator squawked in agreement. When she was home, she rarely kept him in his cage, but it was at night that he particularly liked his perch and freedom to roam about.

  With a groan, she opened her eyes all the way and reached out to smooth Gator’s feathers. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, buddy. At least one of us is.” She sat up and immediately winced. Her left eye felt as if it was on fire. She widened and narrowed her eyes, trying to get rid of the proverbial cobwebs until she could read the digital clock next to her bed. Eleven a.m.