“Max! ’Manda wants to take me away!”
Heat rose from her neck into her cheeks when Max gave her a quick glance. He frowned. “She does?”
“Yeah, she wants me to go…to the big city an’…an’…meet new people an’ get new things.”
“She does? And you don’t want to go? Well, we will have to convince her that you want to stay.”
Amanda hissed, “Like it’s any of your business.” She got up and grabbed the furniture polish from under the sink. She began to scrub at the crayon marks on the kitchen table with a rag.
The more she thought about Max putting his nose in their business, the harder she scrubbed. She tuned out their conversation and concentrated on removing the colored wax from the wood’s finish. When she was done, she looked up and realized it was quiet.
Greg had left the room, and Max was leaning back against the center island, arms and feet crossed. He was watching her intently.
“Do you have nothing better to do? Like go fight crime? Or write a little old lady a citation for jaywalking? Did you lose your parking-lot stopwatch?”
The corner of his lip curled up. “You should be fined for having such a cute ass. Just watching you wiggling it back and forth like that as you scrubbed gave me a—”
He stopped abruptly, as if he had just realized he had said his thoughts out loud. The surprise on his face was quickly schooled to a blank expression.
As she finished his thought, Amanda’s gaze flew downward.
She turned to gather Greg’s broken crayons and threw them into an old coffee can, closing the lid with a snap. She could finally look up at Max without blushing. “Again…why are you here? And most importantly, how did you get in?”
“Well, I got in through your front door. It wasn’t locked.”
“Do you normally just barge into people’s homes?”
“No, only in emergencies. I heard the yelling and thought there might be one.”
Amanda snorted. She stilled, her eyes narrowed. “Did that busybody call you?”
“Who?”
“Never mind. What do you want?”
“I heard what happened this morning and wanted to check up on you and Greg.”
Ah.
“My brother said you were pretty distressed.”
“Of course I was. Do you think I don’t care about my brother?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Look, this is a small town. Everybody knows everything. Or at least thinks they know everything. That’s just the way it is. Maybe down in—Miami, is it?—it’s no big deal that a daughter doesn’t come home for a funeral, but up here… Well, people talk.”
“That’s because there’s nothing to do except gossip and talk about things people don’t know anything about.”
“Maybe so.”
“No maybes about it. Oh, and give out unfair citations. Can’t forget that one!”
“You’re lucky I didn’t give you one the other day when your registration plate got lost.”
Out of nowhere it hit Amanda that this was Max Bryson. Not Officer Max Bryson. He wasn’t in uniform. She was suddenly taken aback on how handsome he looked. Without the uniform he looked less…barbaric? Militant. Less patronizing.
His jeans fit him quite nicely, while his worn flannel shirt with the rolled-up sleeves looked soft against the deep tan of his forearms. A deep blue T-shirt peeked out from the V of the tucked in flannel. She couldn’t imagine him with his hair any longer than it was. The severe haircut fit him. Her pulse quickened.
He was a true man. Masculine. Mature.
She wondered if he would look as naked in real life as he did in her dream. She licked her lips.
“Don’t.” His voice was low and gruff, clearly a warning.
Amanda closed her eyes and tried to speak.
She cleared her throat and tried again. “I appreciate your concern, but I think you’d better leave.” Her eyes opened, and she met his, the fiery blue ice making her breath catch. “I see you’re off duty, and I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”
He straightened up, uncrossing his legs and arms. “You’re right.” He stepped close to her, hesitated just for a second. Just long enough for Amanda to feel the searing heat of his body. Goose bumps broke out over her skin. He brushed by with some parting words. “Stay out of trouble.”
As she watched him take long strides out of the kitchen, she caught herself on the counter before her knees collapsed.
AFTER SAYING GOOD-BYE to Greg on his way out, Max stepped out of the house and took a deep breath of the cool fall air. He needed to clear his head. Marc had tried to warn him not to go over to check up on her, but Max hadn’t agreed. He thought it was the perfect opportunity to see Amanda on a nonpolice matter. Hopefully on more pleasant terms.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t turned out that way. As he had arrived, he had heard Greg’s out-of-control yelling, and he had rushed in to see Amanda in way over her head. As he had previously feared. He sighed.
What he had hoped to be a nice little neighborly visit turned wrong. He frowned and walked over to his truck. Hopping in, he sat in the cab, staring at the little house in front of him.
Max had noticed when Amanda’s expressive gaze had changed. One second she was being a major bitch, the next she was checking him out with those sizzling eyes. Phew. Again he was surprised at the quick response from his body. He was losing control.
He strapped the seat belt across his torso.
He had to meet up with her again. Next time it would be better without conflict brewing. Maybe he should ask her out for coffee.
Hell, he’d make it a beer instead. She needed to loosen up.
* * * *
Max knocked on Amanda’s door. No answer. He knocked again. He tried the knob. It was locked, unlike last time he was here.
He heard a faint, “Who is it?”
“Ma’am? It’s Officer Bryson, ma’am. Please open the door.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“It’s police business, ma’am.”
The door swung open, giving him an unobstructed view of Amanda in the sexiest teddy he’d ever seen.
“Will you stop calling me ‘ma’am’? I’m not that old. And hurry up and come in; it’s chilly out there.”
It sure was. Her nipples perked underneath the silky fabric—the black lacy fabric that barely covered her full breasts. He swore he could see the rosy color of her nipples.
She closed the door behind him and turned to face him.
“Is this going to be quick, Officer?”
“Oh, I can make it quick.” Then he grimaced when he realized what he’d said. Damn it!
“What was so important that you had to wake me out of bed?”
“Ma’am… Amanda, you never paid your parking ticket. I have a warrant for your arrest.”
“What? A warrant? Let me see it.”
Max checked his pockets and couldn’t find the warrant. He cleared his throat. “Well, I can’t find it right this second. But it’s a bench warrant.”
“Well, can I pay you now?” She took a step closer.
Why was she wearing that sexy outfit? This was supposed to be police business. He wasn’t able to concentrate on the matter at hand. This wasn’t like him.
“Yes, I’ll take payment.”
“Cash, check, or…?”
“Or?”
She moved another step forward and was now inches from him. Her nipples were clearly visible through that lace.
“Or…how about this?” She closed the few inches between them, stood on her tiptoes, and brushed his lips with her.
She leaned back just enough for him to say, “That’s not sufficient.”
She kissed him again, this time grabbing his waist for balance, holding her lips against his a little longer. When she pulled back, he just shook his head.
“No? Well, how about this?” She smashed her lips to his and
Her hand reached down and slipped into the waistband of his jeans, just enough to grab the hem of his T-shirt, then rip it over his head, tossing it to the floor. She leaned in and rubbed her breasts against his chest. The feel of the silky fabric and her hard nipples almost made him pick her up and throw her onto the couch.
Instead, she grabbed the waistband of his jeans again and tugged him over to the couch.
Damn, she wanted all the control.
“Take your pants off.”
After kicking off his boots, he did just that. His cock was hard and ready, and his balls were tight. The blood was surging through his body, his heart pumping rapidly.
Amanda gave him a shove, and he landed on the couch, giving him a complete view of her in that black teddy. Besides the lace that barely concealed her breasts, solid black fabric draped down to her hips. Just long enough that he couldn’t tell if she had panties on.
His gaze roamed her legs from the tops of her thighs down to her toes, appreciating every curve that she had. Her inner thigh, her knees, her calves.
“C’mere,” he said, his voice so gravelly that he didn’t sound like himself. He reached out a hand, and she took it. He drew her into him, and she was suddenly straddling him. His cock was caught between her bare pussy—well, there was the answer—and his lap. He was right there. Right there! It wouldn’t take much but a minor shift.
She leaned into him and captured his lips again, moaning as their tongues tangled and explored. Her fingers tweaked his nipples, making him jerk a little but not enough to lose the touch of their kiss.
He broke free so he could push down the spaghetti straps of her teddy, releasing her breasts. They were perfect and beautiful. He buried his face between them, kissing her flushed skin. He sucked one nipple while he teased the other with his fingers, twisting just enough to make her cry out, sink harder in his lap, and grind against him.
His cock twitched against her heat, feeling her wetness. He brushed his teeth over the other nipple, reaching his thumb down in between them to find her clit. She bucked against him like a wild horse. And with a little lift and tilt of her hips, she captured his cock. A long, low moan escaped her as she lowered herself slowly, ever so slowly, until she had him completely enveloped inside her. Her inner muscles squeezed him as she rode him, easy at first, then she picked up the pace. His head fell against the couch as she controlled the movement. Up, down, circling. Almost letting him go, then quickly swallowing him again.
Her hips shifted and tilted as she reached back to stroke his balls, then squeeze them. He almost lost it right there. He tried to slow his breathing, but she was wreaking havoc on his control.
He wanted this to last. But between her little whimpers and her clenching pussy, he was going to lose it.
And when she cried out, “I’m coming!” he lost it.
His cock throbbed as he spilled into her, his release mixing with hers.
* * * *
He rolled over and woke up. He dragged a hand over his stomach. Sticky! It was only a dream. A freaking teenage-like wet dream. Fuuuuuuuuck.
That damn woman has gotten under his skin.
Chapter Four
She should have come up with the idea sooner. Using her reflection in the glass door, Amanda made sure her hair was in place and her clothes in proper order before pushing the door open with one hand. The other was occupied with balancing the plate of Mrs. Busybody’s peanut butter cookies.
She had wanted to do something nice for Officer Marc Bryson. And when she found the plate of cookies in the back of the cabinet where she had hidden them, the thought came to mind. He would never know that she didn’t make them herself. Or that the dog licked them…
Her high-heeled boots tapped along the tiled floor as she entered the police station. An American flag occupied one corner with the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania flag parked right next to it. On the walls were framed pictures of men in uniform. She couldn’t tell if they were current or former officers, but clearly not one was a woman. Figures. A small town such as this probably didn’t recognize equal rights. It was like the Dark Ages.
She thought she spotted one of the Brysons’ pictures up there, but she wasn’t sure and before she could step closer to read the brass plate underneath it, she was interrupted.
“Can I help you?”
She stepped up to the counter and smiled at the redheaded officer. A dusting of freckles crossed his nose and cheeks. He wasn’t much older than her. She read his name tag: Dunn.
“Hello, I’m just here to drop off some cookies for Officer Bryson.”
“Oh, hold on. I think he’s in the patrol room.” Officer Dunn turned and bellowed toward the back. “Max, someone is here to see you.”
Max! Amanda panicked. “No! No. That’s not… I’m sorry, I meant Marc Bryson.”
“Oh.” He gave her a shrug like it was no big deal.
Too late.
Max came from out of a side room with his head down, busy snapping on the leather keepers that secured his duty belt to his narrow trouser belt. Amanda looked at the cluttered accessory and wondered what all the things hanging off it were for. The gun, of course, she recognized.
He looked up as he approached the front counter and froze. A flush flooded his face. Amanda’s eyebrows knit together. She had never seen him embarrassed before. What did he have to be embarrassed about?
“Ms. Barber.”
“Officer Bryson.” She frowned. “Actually, I was here to see your brother.”
The color left his face as quickly as it appeared. A dark eyebrow rose.
“I brought him some cookies to show my gratitude for bringing Greg home the other day.”
She plunked the plate down on the counter. Both men eyed the cookies hungrily.
Typical men, she thought. Give them food or sex and they’re happy. Pussy or cookies, just put them on a plate.
Max turned to Dunn. “Go take a break.”
The other officer knocked Max’s arm and said, “Save me a couple,” before disappearing down a brightly lit hallway.
Max pulled the plastic wrap back and held a cookie up, inspecting it. Suddenly, Amanda felt horrified. She shouldn’t have brought these cookies here. Chaos had slobbered on them. Maybe he could tell?
Ugh. Why didn’t she even know how to bake something simple like cookies? She had wanted to thank Marc, not get him sick. Would it look suspicious if she suddenly knocked the cookie out of Max’s hand and threw them all in the garbage?
“Are they poisoned?”
Without waiting for an answer, his straight, white teeth bit into the soft cookie. Amanda held her tongue until he finished chewing and swallowed.
“Yes,” she said. And smiled.
He only hesitated for a second before finishing the rest of it off. “Well, they’re good. I’ll make sure you get the plate back.”
She nodded and swept a hand toward his duty belt. “What’s all the junk?”
The surprise showed on his face. She guessed that Max didn’t believe she was actually interested.
She wasn’t really, but for some silly reason, she wanted to make conversation. She couldn’t imagine why since he was so aggravating.
Standing a little taller with unmistakable pride, he started on his right hip, placing a hand on each item as he went around the belt. “My weapon. It’s a GLOCK .45. Expandable ASP baton. Two extra magazines. Holder for my Maglite.”
“I thought I recognized that flashlight,” she said with a little sarcasm. Just a little…
“Radio holder. Pepper spray. And these…” He popped open a black leather case and pulled out a set of shiny silver handcuffs, dangling them from one of his long fingers. “Are for bad little girls. Do you want to try them on for size?”
Damn, they were just like the ones in her dream. She closed her eyes, reliving it. Just for a second. Her eyes popped open when he cleared his throat.
“I have my own set, thank you very much.” She gave him a wicked smirk. “They’re pink and fuzzy.”
She spun on her heels and tossed over her shoulder, “Enjoy the cookies. And stay out of my dreams.”
As she walked away, leaving him speechless, the guilt came back to her again. She pushed the thought away. He deserved everything she gave him.
She heard him call out “What?” as she shoved the door open with a smile and walked out into the sunlight.
A little dog spit wasn’t going to hurt anybody.
* * * *
The cookies were gone, and the plate long returned to Mrs. Busybody’s porch—in the middle of the night—as the end of October quickly blew into November. And as much as she hated—no, that was too strong—disliked Manning Grove, she had to admit to herself the fall foliage was beautiful.
The colder weather, she could do without, though.
Amanda had managed to stay out of trouble as Max had suggested on several occasions. Even better, she had actually managed to stay out of his way too. Occasionally she saw a black-and-white cruiser around town and wondered who was driving. Marc or Max or the other brother, whoever he was. She hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet. She preferred to stay out of the police department’s attention. Even though one of their officers kept invading her dreams. But at least her dreams kept her warm at night.
She had redecorated the master bedroom to her liking, which made her feel a little more comfortable in the house.
In fact, she only left when she needed to pick up groceries or things they needed. She was trying to stay out of view from curious eyes. Especially Mrs. Busybody’s.
She hadn’t even left the house to meet with the lawyer. She had called Mr. Wells instead, just to let him know she’d be sticking around for a little while longer. And if anything changed, he’d be the first to know. He seemed satisfied with that for now.
Anyway, it wasn’t like she could blend in easily; her sense of style alone made her stand out. But she refused to give up her fashionable wardrobe for boring housewife-type jeans and bulky sweatshirts with “cutesy” pictures on the front. Which seemed to be the fashion fad around here.
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