Dana Marton - Broslin Creek 05 - Broslin Bride

by Dana Marton

  Luanne wrapped her shaking arms around Chase. “Thank you for coming for us.” She drew her lungs full of air. “It’s over now, right? All the way. I’ll be cleared of the charges?”

  He nodded. “I still want you and the girls to move in with me.”

  “We’re not in danger.”

  “In a proper family, the mother and the father live together.”

  Her head snapped up, and she stared at him.

  “I like your voice,” he said with a lopsided smile. “It’s all velvety and stuff. Gets under my skin. Makes me think dirty thoughts, to be honest.”

  “You’re marrying me because you like my voice?”

  “You have other positive attributes.”

  “Such as?”

  “Fantastic boobs.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Chase Mortimer M—”

  He kissed her. Lingered endlessly because, hey, when did he ever do anything in a hurry? He didn’t pull back until her brain was mush.

  “I love you. We’re getting married,” he said mildly in that easygoing way of his. “I’ve already waited nearly an entire damned decade. I’m a patient man, but I’m not going to wait endlessly.”

  “But…” She stammered.

  “But what?”

  “It’s so fast.”

  He growled. “When I went slow, you wanted fast. Now I’m going fast, you want slow. Luanne Mayfair, are you trying to drive me crazy on purpose, or is it just a lucky side benefit as far as you’re concerned?”

  Good grief, this day was turning out to be a doozy. She kept staring at him, her brain just plain overloaded.

  He muttered something about “womanly mysteries.”

  “We haven’t even dated yet.” She frowned. “You haven’t even proposed.”

  A lazy smile twitched the corner of his lips. “I thought you didn’t like to drag things out.”

  Huh. She drew up an eyebrow. “If we’re getting married, you better not get into the habit of using my own words against me.”

  “Definitely not on my list of habits I’m aiming to develop,” he promised.

  “What habits are you aiming to develop?”

  He leaned forward and dragged his lips against hers. “The habit of seducing my wife daily.” He picked her up into his arms. “The habit of spoiling her rotten.” And as he walked down the stairs, he listed a few more titillating others.

  Epilogue

  They were married at Broslin Chapel, two months later, the first Saturday the chapel was available. Jen was in jail awaiting trial. The judge had refused bail. Billy’s mother had moved in with them to take care of Bobby, the entire family bewildered by Jen’s actions.

  They didn’t come to the wedding, but half of Broslin was there. Mia and Daisy sat in the first row, between Chase’s mother and Aunt Hilda, beaming from one woman to the other. Two grandmothers! For them, it was an embarrassment of riches.

  Of course, Mia and Chase’s mom were talking to each other in hushed tones, keeping a running commentary. Anyone who didn’t know better would think they were related. Two peas in a pod. Daisy was holding Aunt Hilda’s hand, a beatific smile on her face, radiating quiet happiness.

  Behind them, the Broslin PD filled up the entire pew, with girlfriends and spouses. Quite a few men in the chapel kept their eye on the new officer, the only female on the force, Gabriela Maria Flores, an inner-city cop Captain Bing had recently brought in.

  She looked ridiculously beautiful without makeup and in a shapeless uniform. Seriously, with her height and cheekbones, the woman looked like she could sell Armani on a runway and kick ass while doing it.

  “You may kiss the bride,” the minister said, and that was the last thing Luanne heard for a while, because the next second Chase’s lips sealed hers, and the world disappeared.

  The man didn’t do anything halfway. Or hurried. She had no idea how much time passed before whistles and catcalls and shouted suggestions to get a room finally reached her consciousness. She pulled back, her face flushing. Chase didn’t seem the least abashed, on the other hand. A satisfied expression filled his handsome face.

  “I love you, Mrs. Merritt,” he said.

  “I love you, Mr. Merritt.” Her heart was full of him to bursting.

  Before she knew what was going on, they were outside, showered with cheers, well-wishes, and rose petals. She’d vetoed the rice. Just couldn’t see food going to waste.

  Chase escorted her to his decked-out police cruiser, the hood covered with white roses. Instead of rattling cans, somebody had tied two dozen handcuffs to the bumper.

  She winced. She’d come too close to those for comfort. It’d be a while before they were funny for her. The judge had only recently decided not to try her for tampering with evidence. Crashing the Mustang hadn’t been her brightest idea ever. Her all-around exemplary behavior and volunteer record had luckily been considered as mitigating factors.

  Chase was grinning at the handcuffs. Of course, he would be.

  “Put them to good use!” a voice called from the crowd, Joe Kessler, Broslin’s very own ex-football-hero, now another detective at the Broslin PD.

  “What do you think I am, a centipede?” Chase called back, and the crowd broke out in laughter. Then he added, “If you have to tie your woman down so she doesn’t run away, you’re doing something wrong, buddy.” And people laughed harder.

  Then she was finally in the car, and Chase was pulling away from the curb, the whole scene like a fairy tale. Well, minus the rattling handcuffs. The Grimm brothers had somehow missed that.

  Luanne was ridiculously happy, the kind of happiness she hadn’t even known existed, looking at Chase more than at their surroundings, all choked up and giddy. She kicked off her shoes that pinched a little, then gave a contented sigh. Her happiness was perfect.

  “Sexy shoes,” Chase observed, stealing a glance at her bare feet. Every toenail was a different color, the twins’ contribution to getting her ready for her big day.

  “Leila helped me pick them out.” Four-inch heels, the color a silvery, shimmery wonder that made her feel like she was wearing glass slippers. Unfortunately, they were about as comfortable. “I think they’re giving me blisters.”

  Chase shook his head. “Word to the wise. Leila isn’t exactly an expert on sensible footwear. Steer away from her, or you’ll be wearing something pink and furry someday with hammer claws for heels.”

  She laughed at the image.

  “I’m not joking.”

  “I know. That makes it even funnier.”

  He drove to their new home, a splendid four-bedroom Victorian bought from Murph Dolan, a former Broslin police officer. The house had a brand-new kitchen, brand-new flooring, new bathrooms, new everything. Murph had begun the renovations, then one of Chase’s contractor friends finished it.

  “When Murph sees this house, he’s so going to regret that he sold it,” she said as Chase turned off the engine.

  Murph had followed the woman he’d fallen in love with into the witness protection program to keep her safe from an international assassin.

  Aunt Hilda bought the fixer-upper when she’d moved to Broslin. The deal was, instead of going to a home, she’d get to live with Luanne and the girls. She insisted on buying a house, however, for them. Chase insisted on paying for the renovations since he was to live there as well, his bachelor pad not suitable for a large family.

  “Murph is going to have his hands full,” Chase said as he came around and lifted her out of her seat so she wouldn’t have to put her shoes back on. He strode up the path with her to their gleaming new front door, with a little more hurry than his usual speed. “I’m glad he could come back. And that’s the last we’re going to talk about him today.”

  With the assassin eliminated by Interpol, Murph and Kate were returning to town. They’d purchased twenty acres from Captain Bing’s old family farm and were building a rehab facility for soldiers with PTSD, called Hope Hill Acres. Big news for a small town like Broslin.
New jobs. The facilities were already being built, along with housing for Murph and Kate so they could be in the middle of it all, overseeing the operations.

  “Maybe I can get a job at Hope Hill when they get going. You think you could ask Murph?”

  Chase opened the door and carried her over the threshold. “If you say Murph one more time, I’m going to be seriously jealous.”

  Luanne grinned, loving the feel of his strong arms around her. “Can you give me an example of what jealousy might make you do?”

  He narrowed his eyes as he closed the door behind them. “It could make me lose my mind and mercilessly ravish you this instant.”

  “That Murph sure is a handsome fellow,” she said.

  He carried her forward without another word.

  “The kitchen island? Wait!” She squealed as he deposited her in the middle, pushed her knees apart, and stood between them, catching her face in his large hands.

  “It’s a great island,” he said, his voice thick. “Nothing wrong with it. For any purpose. Hell of a nice kitchen. We’re going to have all our family meals here.”

  “Right after I disinfect the counters,” she whispered, her voice suddenly weakening from his intent gaze.

  “Yeah, well.” He flashed a lopsided smile. “We all know what a terror you are with the spray bottle.”

  “Don’t you forget it.” She stared at his lips, inches from hers. “This house will be sanitary or else.”

  His blue gaze deepened to nearly black. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into one of those little French maid outfits.” His voice was a ragged breath.

  She couldn’t breathe at all, thinking about him peeling that French maid outfit off her. “We could negotiate.”

  He growled.

  She swallowed. “The girls and I have been talking about a puppy.”

  “Pound. Eight a.m. tomorrow morning. It’s a date.” And then he held her face with one hand while he ravaged her mouth, his other hand shoving her dress all the way up to her waist.

  Ooh.

  The next second, his large hands were on her butt, and he pulled her hard against him, her most sensitive parts pressed against the impressive bulge in his tuxedo. And then the next second after that, everything was tingling, heat and need flooding through her body in waves.

  His mouth mastered hers, claiming everything she had to give, while she peeled off his jacket and the cummerbund with fumbling fingers.

  He didn’t fumble whatsoever. He pushed the straps of her wedding gown down her shoulders slowly, tracking kisses over to the crook of her neck, then lower.

  He had this maddening hot method where he’d drag his lips over her skin first, lick it next, then rake his teeth against the sensitized skin while nibbling and tasting her. Her nerve endings were approaching total sensory overload with frightening speed.

  Then he gently pushed his questing fingers into the cups of her dress, and with one smooth move popped her breasts free, the material supporting them from below lifting them for his lips. He looked, his dark blue eyes more intense than they’d ever been, for an endless moment, then he buried his face between her breasts and inhaled. “God, I love you. Just in every possible way.”

  She kissed the top of his head and made unintelligible noises, way past the ability to form words.

  He seduced her left nipple with his hot mouth while he teased the right nipple with his fingers. His free hand worked on pushing his pants down. Then his erection sprang free and pressed between her legs, and she felt her body grow moist and ready for him.

  She tried to wiggle out of her scrap of white lace underwear, but she had trouble reaching the silk, the voluminous folds of her dress blocking her efforts.

  “No,” Chase said, pulling back a little. “I want to see that thing before we get rid of it.” He gently pushed her onto her back.

  Her boobs bare and pointing to the ceiling, her legs hanging off the edge of the kitchen island with a very naked and hard Chase between them, she was so aroused she thought she might come just from him looking at her. And, oh, he was looking, his gaze darkening as he reached out to trace the lacy silk.

  Shivers of pleasure ran through her. His lips twisted into a slow, lopsided smile. He placed his warm palm between her legs and cupped her, rubbing, applying pressure. She gritted her teeth so she wouldn’t beg him to hurry, because she was beginning to understand just how good slow could be.

  When he had her so worked up that she was writhing under his hand, he removed it, then pulled her panties off at last. Oh, thank heaven. Now, she thought. She wanted to feel him inside her, his hard length stretching her.

  Instead, he caught her feet, brought them up, kissed her toes, kissed, licked, nibbled his way up her inner thigh. Then he licked deeper and gave her release at last, pleasure pulsing through her in waves.

  “Look at me,” he said roughly, and she did, melting from the heat in his gaze, her body still contracting.

  He lifted her legs, resting her heels on his shoulders, then took care of protection and positioned the tip of his erection at her opening at last. She wasn’t sure if she had it in her to go for another ride.

  Impossible. Not so soon. She needed a few days to recover.

  Or not, she thought as he slowly pushed inside her and stretched her, filled her, setting her nerve endings afire all over again.

  He held her gaze, fierce concentration on his face. The love and passion in his eyes made her heart sing. And then he moved, and she lost herself to him completely.

  Much later, when she lay breathless and naked on the kitchen island, Chase came up on his elbow next to her. “You can’t work for Murph.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You can’t be seriously jealous.”

  He kissed her brow. “I could be, but not because of that.” He hesitated. “I’m going to tell you a secret. But when my mother and Aunt Hilda bring it up, act surprised.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “They bought the motel.”

  “What?” She bolted to a sitting position.

  “Mom’s been itching to invest in something locally. Aunt Hilda jumped on board as a silent partner. She’d had her husband’s life insurance money stashed away all these years.”

  “That much?” Luanne couldn’t even visualize anybody having enough money to buy an entire motel. Ever.

  “They want you to be the general manager. Since you know how the place is run. If you ask, probably all the old employees will come back.”

  She stared. She seemed to be doing a lot of that around Chase. Just once, she wanted to have him say something and have herself respond with her intelligent face instead of gaping.

  “The job comes with tuition reimbursement,” he said.

  She blinked, completely overwhelmed. Didn’t look like she was going to find her intelligent face anytime in the near future.

  “You can finish that business degree right here at WCU if you want. We have a bushel of grandmothers eager to babysit the girls.” He grinned. “They didn’t want to tell you before the wedding so you don’t start worrying about details and can just focus on our big day. Mom wants to babysit the girls while you work. She’s jealous that Grandma Hilda lives with us and has more access to Mia and Daisy.”

  Her head spun. “I need to think about this.”

  “Not today you don’t. We have a tight schedule.” He picked her up and carried her up the stairs. “I’m planning on seducing you at least one more time before the reception.”

  And he did. Slowly and deliberately. All the way. And then some. As only Chase could. Making it last forever and ever.

  And when he was done liquefying her bones, and Luanne jokingly asked, “That was it?” he did it again.

  THE END

  —Thank you so much for reading my books! I really hope you enjoyed Murph and Luanne’s story. If you have a second, would you please consider leaving an online review? Even a sentence or two would be hugely helpful to me. Thank you!!! Dana

  This
book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  BROSLIN BRIDE (Gone and Done it)

  Copyright © 2014 by Dana Marton. All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author.

  www.danamarton.com

  First Edition: June 2014

  BROSLIN CREEK SERIES

  Deathwatch

  Deathscape

  Deathtrap

  Deathblow

  Broslin Bride

  GUARDIAN AGENT

  A Novella

  BY

  DANA MARTON

  I dedicate this story to Jenel Looney, a truly extraordinary person and the best friend anyone could ever wish for.

  Agents Under Fire

  GUARDIAN AGENT

  AVENGING AGENT

  WARRIOR AGENT

  “… started with a bang and the tension never let up. Marton is an accomplished thriller writer, and it shows. Every time I promised myself I’d stop and turn out the light, I kept reading just one more page…” Paula Graves, national bestselling author (about GUARDIAN AGENT)

  Chapter One

  Dark waters lapped the century-old palace’s foundation, eager to claim the forgotten building on one of Venice’s backstreet canals. At four in the February morning, tourists still partied on in the distance, drunk on love, youth and full-bodied Italian wine.

  Gabe Cannon could hear both the water and the faint beat of the music, but he couldn’t hear the half dozen men in the building with him. His new commando team spread out like ghosts moving through the night.

  “Target on the roof,” the team leader’s voice whispered in his earpiece.