Marshall's Law

by Denise A. Agnew

  “You never know. A man your age might find the topic—”

  “My age? How old do you think I am?”

  “Forty?”

  He cursed softly. “Thirty-six.”

  “Keep your voice down. Someone will hear you.”

  Marshall tightened his grip around her waist and she felt nothing but a powerful chest and the unmistakable hint of his…arousal. Oh, my lord. This time her face flamed.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Uh, nothing.”

  “Huh.”

  “You know, I think ‘huh’ is universal man language. Guess we haven’t progressed that far from the cave.”

  “Huh.”

  “See what I mean?” Once on a roll, though, she found she couldn’t stop baiting him. She shifted gears. “Logan is a striking man.”

  He grunted. “I’ll let him know you said that.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “How are you going to stop me?”

  “I…” She didn’t have a clue, and she almost whacked his shoulder with her fist. “Don’t tell him.”

  “All right.” Something challenging, angry, and yet excited flew through his gaze. She saw it all and it made her stomach tingle with equal urgency. “But it’s going to cost you.”

  Wary, she leaned back a tad and glared. “What?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.” His nice, carved mouth moved, intriguing her far too much as her gaze settled on his lips.

  His suggestive tone took her off guard, and she performed her automatic defense mechanism. Sarcasm. “Chinese water torture? Spending time at another community center dance? Being locked in the clink at the sheriff’s department? Hand cuffed?”

  “Hand cuffing sounds like a good idea,” he said huskily.

  Dana had already blushed about twenty times since he’d pulled her into his arms. When she realized what he implied, heat washed over her. She almost gasped. She realized they’d fallen head first into a sexual dance that involved more than their bodies.

  “You’re a very naughty boy, Marshall.”

  Marshall’s whiskered face took on that lumberjack expression she’d seen the day she’d met him. “Are you always so flippant?”

  His hard tone cut through to the bone, and she flinched. She knew she deserved it. “Yes.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  She shrugged. “That’s not my problem.”

  Anger prickled in his gaze and Dana knew she’d fallen into deep quiche. He took her arm and before she knew it, he’d drawn her into a back room adjacent to a kitchen area. She had two seconds to realize it was a huge pantry. The light flicked on and then he closed the door.

  Oh boy, Dana. You’re gonna get it now.

  Chapter Seven

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Dana asked with a squawk. “You seem to have this thing for hauling women around by the—”

  “Dana, be quiet, please,” Marshall said with a soft, raspy tone that rippled over her skin and through her body. “Listen to me for once. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Her pulse triple timed and her heart pounded with anticipation. What did he have in mind? Suddenly, she noticed the pantry held an inordinate amount of peanut butter jars and tomato soup. She inhaled various scents: spices, honey, flour. She could almost taste each on her tongue, and her stomach growled in response. Stop it. This is ridiculous. Now isn’t the time to think about food, especially when almost two hundred pounds of pure male has me cornered in a pantry.

  “All right. I’m listening,” she said softly.

  When he stepped forward, she moved back and bumped the wall behind her.

  His brow furrowed. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “Well, let’s see. It’s not every day a man marches me off the dance floor and flings me into a pantry and closes the door. Wouldn’t you expect me to be afraid?”

  When he put his hands down on either side of her head, she almost jumped out of her skin. His hot gaze did a foray over her dress, then back up to land with maddening precision on her mouth. “I didn’t fling you. I guided you. I never fling women anywhere. But you should be frightened.”

  A tingle of apprehension made its way up her spine. “What are you going to do? Frisk me?”

  His gaze hardened. Mistake. Mistake. Her mind shrieked. Maybe she’d gone too far this time. She shivered, the cold wall soaking through the velour like she was naked.

  “If I was your Wile E. Coyote stepcousin out there, I just might,” he said.

  “Neal or Gregory?”

  “You know which one I’m talking about. Gregory. Now I have a few questions for you, and I want some straight answers.”

  She pressed her palms against the cool wall. The bumpy logs behind her felt uncomfortable. But she’d endure it, even if it meant getting a splinter in her can. “Fire away.”

  “Tell me more about Gregory.”

  “You probably know as much about him as I do.”

  “Does he have financial problems? Does he think Lucille has money stashed in her house? A large bank account that he could inherit if she suddenly died?”

  The implications set her back, her heart taking a plunge at the thought. “I don’t know. What are you saying? That you think Gregory would…would murder her?”

  “Anything is possible.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I haven’t got access to his bank account. How should I know if he’s got problems? You can be very sure I have nothing to do with him most of the time.”

  “Most of the time.”

  She sighed, exasperated. “Is there an echo in here? That’s what I said.”

  “So you’ve never had a thing for Gregory?”

  The wild idea that Marshall could be jealous ran through Dana and gave her an odd jolt of pleasure. She smiled. “You’re kidding, right? A worm like him?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Some people are turned on when someone doesn’t like them. Maybe he thinks you’re playing hard to get.”

  Dana couldn’t believe the direction of the conversation. “I don’t know what he thinks.”

  Marshall’s well-carved mouth tightened, and she could have sworn she saw something different enter his eyes. “Are you afraid of him? Has he ever hurt you or threatened you?”

  Startled, she answered quickly. “No. He’s never hurt me.” She realized Marshall had hit on something disturbing. “In the past, when I was younger, he did scare me a couple of times. He can be pushy and intimidating. He’s greedy and amoral. Aunt Lucille doesn’t always see it, but I do.”

  His entire body seemed to tighten, his muscles bunching and his face going cold with restrained anger. He looked like he wanted to hit something.

  When he didn’t speak, her unquenchable desire to exasperate him arose again. “Is this the way you usually interrogate suspects?”

  One corner of his mouth dared to twitch. His jaw tightened. “You’re not a suspect, Dana.”

  “Okay, then, do you usually sequester women in pantries and trap them between your arms?”

  “No.”

  “Then why am I so different? Some women might charge you with harassment for something like this.”

  “Would you tell Sheriff Pizer I’m harassing you?”

  She contemplated the idea, but it didn’t sit well in her stomach. No need for him to know that. “Maybe.”

  “I don’t believe you. One, you know I’d never hurt a woman. Two, you know I have Lucille’s best interests at heart. Three, you know none of the other officers in the sheriff’s department would believe that heart-shaped bed story.” Soft and sincere, Marshall’s voice made her believe. “And I want you to remember how easily a man could harm you. I’ve got you trapped in this pantry, and I’m between you and the door. Don’t ever let a man get you in this position again.”

  His warning made her blood chill. A ripple of fear made her shrink back.

  Remorse altered his expression, and he brushed her cheek with gentle fingertips. “Cold?” />
  “A little.”

  His gaze coasted over her dress, and an appreciative smile flitted over his lips. “I can see why.”

  Dana shivered again, her palms still flat against the wall. “The dress was Aunt Lucille’s idea, not mine.”

  He took in her neckline, her breasts, hips and legs in a way that trailed pure fire. His obvious interest reheated her blood. “I like her taste.”

  Time seemed to hang like a bird riding a thermal, lingering, floating. She could hear the sexy wail of a saxophone through the walls, and wondered if she’d entered la-la land where anything could and did happen. If Dana thought she’d felt heat before, nothing compared to the undeniable tension she experienced whenever she came near him. Dangerous, very dangerous. Her mind screamed a warning while her heart slammed in her chest. Why else could one burly, tough-as-cowhide cop make her want to hold him all night long?

  A sweet languor spilled through every sinew as she took in his rapt expression. No. I have to be imagining it. The man looks like he wants to eat me up with a spoon. Wild, uninhibited tenderness made her lean a fraction closer. Was his mouth closer? Oh, man. He looks like he wants to kiss me. Her lips tingled.

  Suddenly he moved back a little, cupping her shoulders. “I’m sorry I was a little rough on you just now.”

  Dana had never seen a man so capable of playing the hard-nosed cop one minute, then turning into a concerned teddy bear. “No sweat. It’s not every day a cop pins me to a wall in a…” She looked around. “A pantry fully of peanut butter and tomato soup, by golly.”

  He grinned, then reached in his rear jeans pocket and retrieved his wallet. He extracted a business card and held it out to her. “Here. My office, home and cell phone numbers are on it. You hear or see anything suspicious at Lucille’s house, you call me. If you think there’s immediate danger, call 911 instead. All right?”

  Dana gazed at the card like it had a disease. Finally, she snatched it from his hand. With a grin and a wink she tucked it into the neckline of her dress and into her bra.

  Marshall’s gaze snagged on her breasts until she cleared her throat. She saw heat crawl up his neck and into his face and had the perverse pleasure of knowing she’d rattled his cage.

  He swallowed hard, then opened the door. Dana stepped through, almost running into Kerrie.

  “Hey, there you are.” Kerrie grinned and hugged Dana. She tossed Marshall a teasing grin. “Hi, big lug.”

  To Dana’s complete surprise, Marshall cracked a face-splitting grin and wrapped Kerrie in a close hug. Curiosity and another emotion Dana refused to acknowledge jumped up and bit her. Maybe Kerrie hadn’t told her the whole story about her relationship with Marshall. The idea her friend might have the hots for Marshall and vice versa burned a hole straight through her gut.

  “How’s things?” Kerrie asked them as Marshall let her go.

  Marshall glanced from Kerrie to Dana with a sardonic expression. “As well as can be expected.”

  Kerrie didn’t look convinced. “Uh-huh. I heard you guys came back here.”

  Dana felt the heat of embarrassment, certain that Kerrie and others thought she’d come in here to rendezvous with Marshall. “We were talking about Aunt Lucille’s haunted bed.”

  “Did you come to any conclusions?” Kerrie asked.

  Marshall brushed by Dana and Kerrie. “Nothing we can agree upon. I’ve got things to do, ladies. I’ll see you.”

  “Oh, before you go out there, Tommy is here. His mom and dad wanted to thank you again for saving his life,” Kerrie said.

  Marshall’s relaxed expression went back to stony. “He doesn’t need to thank me. I was doing my job.”

  “Tommy has a present for you,” Kerrie said. “And I think he’d be very disappointed if you didn’t talk to him. He might not understand.”

  Marshall’s shoulders tensed, as if she’d hit him with something. “I can’t help it if he doesn’t understand.”

  Shocked at his insensitive behavior, Dana glared at him. “He’s just a boy, Marshall.”

  He seemed to sag under a great weight, his demeanor changing to doubt. “Of course. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll see you later.” He turned away and went for the door, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Remember what I said, Dana.”

  Kerrie peered at her once he’d left. “What was that all about?”

  Dana started for the door. “It’s a long story. Come on. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  Back in the thick of the party, though, Dana saw something that made her stop.

  Kerrie almost bumped into the back of her. “What is it?”

  Dana nodded toward one corner of the room where Marshall stood with Tommy and his parents. While Marshall shook the parents’ hands, the boy gazed up at Marshall with clear hero-worship. The boy spoke, and Marshall’s stern expression dissolved into a genuine warm grin.

  Dana’s breath caught in her throat as Tommy handed Marshall a wood carving of an animal. It was too far away for Dana to see what type of animal. Marshall turned the object over in his hand, inspecting it, his grin widening. Then he got down on his haunches, bringing himself down to the boy’s level. When he drew the boy into his arms for a hug, Dana saw something that looked like genuine happiness mixed with unbelievable pain cross Marshall’s face.

  Sympathetic tears stung Dana’s eyes as she absorbed the implications of the little scene before her. So Marshall did have a soft side. This fact made Dana glow deep inside, filling her with a feeling of admiration she didn’t want to acknowledge.

  “Wow,” Kerrie said.

  “Yeah,” Dana whispered around the hard lump forming in her throat.

  Dana watched as Kerrie cruised her living room, straightening things with the age-old habit installed in her by her neat-freak mother. They waited for the kettle in the kitchen to scream. A hot cup of tea would go a long way to curing what ailed Dana. At least she hoped it would.

  She’d told her aunt she needed some quality time with her good friend. Aunt Lucille said she’d ride home by way of Gregory or Neal, because she had no intention of leaving the party yet. Anxiety had crept through Dana about her aunt’s welfare, but Kerrie insisted the older woman would be fine.

  As a punctuation mark to her bizarre evening, Dana noted before she left the revelry that Marshall and his sidekick Logan had already disappeared from the party.

  Dana felt at ease for the first time tonight. Nothing like a good old-fashioned girl talk session to clear the brain. The kettle wailed, and Kerrie ran to make tea. She came back a few moments later with steaming, huge mugs. As she glided into the room, Dana couldn’t help but admire her friend.

  Kerrie’s commanding presence, all six-feet of her, always made Dana feel like a midget. Not that five feet, six inches came close to short. Dana tried to stop comparing herself to others, but she hadn’t reached the mark yet.

  Dana self-consciously tugged down the dress, something she’d been doing all evening. Now Marshall’s business card seemed to burn her breast and itch at the same time. But she sure wasn’t going to reach in her bra and pull out the card.

  Kerrie stopped bustling a moment, sagged into a recliner and took a sip of tea. She pushed a strand of her long, straight blonde hair away from her face. “If you watch over this place when I head off to Jamaica soon, it’ll be great knowing you’re here.”

  “Oh, yeah. Watching over this beautiful house would be such a hardship.”

  Kerrie laughed. “No wild parties while I’m gone, eh?”

  Kerrie’s laugh cheered Dana to the core. Maybe Kerrie could heal while she traveled. She tried to imagine the tremendous pain Kerrie had experienced when her husband had been killed last year.

  Tears welled in Dana’s eyes, but she forced them back. “No wild anything. I’m looking forward to quiet and quieter. Just what I need to get rid of this block.”

  “I think you’ll find plenty around town to rejuvenate your muse. Any ideas why you’re stuck?”

  “I’m dried up. R
and R is in definite order.”

  “So you don’t plan on doing actual writing while you’re here? Just absorbing?”

  Dana shrugged. “I might just soak up atmosphere. If the writing comes, it comes.”

  Kerrie scratched her long nose with a carnation-pink polished nail. “I thought you said discipline is important?”

  “It is. But this is more a vacation, vacation rather than a working. You know what I mean?”

  “Your way with words is incredible. Vacation, vacation.”

  Puffing up like a proud hen, a silly grin curving her lips, Dana said, “That’s what I’m paid to do. Entertain with words.”

  “Well, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed in Macon for inspiration. It’s got enough character for a whole library.”

  Dana snickered. “Don’t I know it? If the last few days are any indication, I’d say I’ve done well to survive the hospitality.”

  Frowning, Kerrie took another sip of her tea, then put the mug down on a cork coaster on the side table next to her chair. “So what do you think?”

  Dana uttered a weary sigh. She leaned her head back. “About what?”

  “Him.”

  “Nothing like being clear. Who?”

  “Brennan Marshall. Intriguing man, no?”

  Dana’s insides did a double flip. Tonight’s close encounter had escalated her libido into Indianapolis 500 status. She reached for her dad’s ring and rubbed the precious metal with nervous fingers.

  Kerrie waved a hand. “Earth to Mars, is anyone home?”

  Flipping Kerrie an irritated look, Dana said, “He’s arrogant, opinionated, and he dislikes me as much as I dislike him.”

  Kerrie’s eyes narrowed to slits. “That’s rather strong.”

  Dana shrugged. “Well, he disliked me first.”

  A sigh parted Kerrie’s lips. “That was a misunderstanding.”

  “Hah!”

  “You know your Aunt Lucille wouldn’t like him if he didn’t have a good heart and neither would I. You’ve seen how good he is with her. And that little boy Tommy? He saved his life and was so modest about it.”

  Dana understood all right. The way he’d taken care of the little boy had filled her with admiration. She’d only experienced that kind of excitement around a man one other time. That situation had ended in disaster. A thousand pieces of her heart had littered the ground like confetti when Frank had left.