Hoping for Love (McCarthys of Gansett Island, Book 5)

by Marie Force

  “That remains to be seen,” he said bitterly.

  “It’ll happen. Maybe not right when you thought it would, but eventually.”

  “I wish I was so certain.”

  “Don’t forget that I’ve seen you perform. I know you’ve got what it takes to succeed.”

  “I appreciate your faith in me, and I get what you mean about the difficult path. All I know is I want you in my life, Grace. I want to see what might happen if I take a chance on…”

  “On what?”

  “Love,” he said, seeming stunned that he’d actually said the word. “I’ve never used that word in relation to any woman before. Ever.”

  “Evan…”

  “Do you think you could maybe someday possibly…”

  Grace dissolved into laughter.

  “Oh my God! I cannot believe you’re laughing right now! This is the most inappropriate laughter ever!”

  His indignation only made her laugh harder. When she was finally able to control the outburst, she had to look away from his injured pout or risk starting all over again. “Evan, you’re just so cute. Can’t you see that I’m already more than halfway there?”

  His mouth fell open. “You are?”

  She nodded.

  “Since when?”

  “Since the night you rescued me and risked your reputation as a bad-ass confirmed bachelor by taking me home to Linda.”

  “Aw, Grace.” He hugged her and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I think it’s going to turn out that you’re the one who rescued me.”

  Chapter 24

  Tiffany moved carefully to secure the handcuff around her sleeping husband’s wrist. The police-issue cuffs had been rather easy to find in the island’s toy store, although why any parent would allow their kid to have actual cuffs was beyond her. What did she care, though? They had two links and a key, which was all she needed. She cringed at the loud clicking noise the cuff made as it locked into place.

  Jim shifted onto his back but didn’t wake up. That he slept like a dead man was a critical part of her plan, as was leaving Ashleigh with her mother and Ned for the night.

  She released the breath she’d been holding. He couldn’t wake up until she was ready, until everything was in place—especially her.

  Moving fast, she stripped off her clothes, took another deep breath to calm the butterflies in her belly and slid between cool sheets. Right away, the warmth of his sleeping body reminded her of the overwhelming desire they’d once shared, before he got tired of her and their marriage.

  This time, he was going to listen to her, even if she had to take drastic measures to keep him from walking away—again. Clicking the other cuff to her own wrist, Tiffany studied Jim’s sleep-softened face.

  A rough layer of dark stubble lined his jaw. His soft lips moved in his sleep, something she’d found so endearing back when she had reason to believe he was dreaming of her. Strands of dark brown hair fell over his forehead, giving him a boyish appeal. Awake, he was a life force, always in motion, always thinking, dreaming, reaching for more. Asleep, she’d always thought he became even sexier, if possible.

  Suddenly, the tension of the last few months didn’t matter. The angry words and long silences were immaterial. All that mattered was saving her marriage to the man she had loved for as long as she could remember. She’d been with him through college, law school, the bar exam, the birth of their daughter, setting up his practice and the many day-to-day challenges that came with being married. After all the time she’d invested in their family—in them—she couldn’t let him go without a fight.

  The last time she’d seen him, when she’d dropped off Ashleigh before Abby’s going-away party, he’d accused her of being unfaithful to him, among other things. None of it was true, and if he’d only listen to her, she was certain she could convince him of that.

  The recent reappearance of her own long-lost father had only cemented Tiffany’s resolve that Ashleigh would grow up in a home with both parents surrounding her with love and attention. I’ll be damned if I’m going to give up on us now, she thought, taking one last look at his face before she reached out to rest her free hand on his belly. Her heart beat so fast she feared it would burst through her chest.

  Jim’s abdominal muscles quivered under her hand. Encouraged, she continued south, taking the sheet along for the ride as her fingers encircled his semi-erect penis.

  Tiffany licked her lips. It’d been a long time, maybe even a year, since they’d last had sex, and she was more than primed. The sight of his nude body made her want to take him into her mouth. When she thought of how many times she’d done just that, only to be rejected by him …

  This isn’t the time for those thoughts, she chided herself. This is the time for action.

  Rising to her knees, she bent her head and went for broke.

  Jim sat up so quickly he threw her off balance, causing her jaw to contract and her teeth to sink into some very important flesh.

  He howled and tore at her long dark hair. “Let go! What the hell, Tiffany? Let go!” All at once, he realized he was cuffed to her and roared as he jerked hard on their joined arms.

  His penis popped out of her mouth as she fell forward and landed with a pointed elbow to his chest, her knee catching him squarely in the balls. This is not going according to plan.

  Moaning and gasping for air, he began to fight like a wild animal to get free of her. “Are you serious? What is wrong with you?”

  Tiffany struggled to keep him on the bed, which was the only place she had a prayer of getting his attention. “I need to talk to you.”

  Pushing at her, he said, “I have nothing to say to you, so get your knee out of my balls, and get the hell off me!”

  Suddenly, she was falling and reached out for anything she could get her hands on. Before she hit the floor, her finger sank into something wet and squishy.

  Jim shrieked. “You poked my freaking eye out! Oh my God! You blinded me!” He dragged her with him, the carpet burning her ass and her boobs bouncing all around, when he reached for the phone.

  “Who are you calling? What’re you doing?”

  Keeping his injured eye closed, Jim used his free hand to dial three numbers.

  Tiffany’s stomach dropped. Uh-oh. “Jim, please. Don’t. I just want to talk to you.”

  “I’d like to report a break-in and assault at my home,” he said in the no-nonsense tone he usually reserved for the courtroom. Glancing down at her with disdain, he said, “Yes, I know her.” He rattled off the address of his Ocean Road office and hung up the phone. From the end of the bed, he grabbed a pair of boxer shorts and winced as he used his unshackled hand to settle them against his injured testicles.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you,” she said. “You wouldn’t talk to me, you wouldn’t listen—”

  “I told you weeks ago that I’m all done talking and listening to you. Where’s the key for these goddamned handcuffs?”

  “In my car.”

  Tears from his injured eye wet his face as he stared at her sprawled out on the floor in all her glory. “Well, then, let’s go get it.” He headed for the door.

  Tiffany resisted, cringing when the carpet further abused the burned skin on her bottom. “You can’t drag me out there stark naked!”

  “Oh no? You have some nerve telling me what I can’t do when you sneak into my house, handcuff me, nearly bite my dick off, and poke my eye out of my head.” Jerking hard on their joined arms, he headed for the door.

  Tiffany fought him with everything she had, throwing him off balance.

  He came down hard and landed on top of her. Their bodies would’ve been perfectly aligned for lovemaking had she not raised her knee in defense at the last minute, catching him once again right where he lived.

  All the air left his body in one long gasp of pain. “Jesus Christ, son of a bitch,” he muttered, his face gone pale and chalky.

  “Sorry,” she muttered weakly. Had a plan ever gone so totally wrong?
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  Moaning, he lay next to her for several minutes, and for a brief instant, Tiffany thought she’d hurt him to the point where he might actually be willing to talk to her.

  Then he rallied, rose to his knees and then to his feet. The murderous look in his one working eye had Tiffany shrinking back from him, despite their joined arms.

  “Let’s go,” he snarled.

  A knock on the door saved her from being paraded on Ocean Road in the nude.

  Jim reached for it with his free hand, but she jerked him back. “Let me at least put some clothes on first!”

  “In your dreams,” he growled, throwing open the door.

  “Chief Blaine Taylor, Gansett Police. You called about a B&E? I was in the area when the call came through.”

  “That’s right.” Jim stepped aside to admit the officer.

  Oh, no, she thought. Not him. Anyone but him! Tiffany closed her legs and struggled to cover all the important parts with the arm that wasn’t attached to Jim. Her full breasts spilled over the top of her forearm, giving Blaine a view of her nipples. She gasped and shifted to cover them. As always, he was totally hot in his dark brown uniform pants and crisp white shirt. His sun-streaked hair was mussed from a long day of work and his brown eyes were locked on her breasts.

  After taking a good, long look, he cleared his throat, diverted his gaze away from her and focused on the cuffs. “Um, listen, folks, I don’t know what’s going on here, but if you’re having some sort of personal problem …”

  “It is a personal problem! My ex-wife—”

  “I’m not your ex yet!”

  “She broke in here when I was sleeping, cuffed herself to me and attacked me!” Jim gestured to his face. “Look what she did to my eye!”

  Placing his hands on lean hips, Blaine leaned in. “Ouch.”

  “Want to see the teeth marks on my dick?”

  Blaine winced. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Glancing at Tiffany on the floor, Blaine said, “Is this true? Did you break in here and attack him?”

  “I didn’t intend to attack him,” she said in a meek tone, painfully aware of the picture she must be making sitting naked on the floor, handcuffed to her irate husband. “I just wanted to talk to him. Every time I try to talk to him, he leaves.” Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away. It was bad enough that she was sitting naked on the floor while her soon-to-be ex-husband berated her in front of a guy she’d secretly lusted after for months. She wouldn’t give Jim the satisfaction of seeing her cry, too.

  “So you figured if you locked yourself to me, I’d have no choice but to listen to your lies?”

  “They’re not lies! Why do you say such awful things about your own wife? I’ve never been anything but faithful and devoted to you!”

  “How’d you get in, ma’am?” Blaine asked, his handsome face tight with irritation. Nothing in his rigid stance gave away that they knew each other. She supposed he had no choice but to keep things professional in light of what she’d done.

  “The door was unlocked. He never locks it.”

  “I will from now on,” Jim snapped.

  “The Mercedes outside,” the chief said, “with the four flat tires—”

  “You did not,” Jim hissed through clenched teeth.

  “I didn’t want you to leave before we had a chance to talk.”

  “I want her arrested.”

  “For what?” Tiffany cried. “Wanting to talk to my own husband?”

  Without looking at her, Jim said, “Breaking and entering, assault, vandalism.” Raising his handcuffed arm, he added, “Kidnapping.”

  Blaine reached for a ring of keys on his belt, unlocked the cuffs and handed them to Tiffany.

  Jim made a big show out of rubbing his wrist. “I need medical attention. I can’t see a goddamned thing out of my eye, and she crushed my balls—twice.”

  Blaine didn’t even try to hide his disdain for Jim as he keyed the microphone on his shoulder and called for paramedics. “Mrs. Sturgil, why don’t you put some clothes on? I’m afraid I have to take you in.”

  Gasping, Tiffany looked up at him. “You’re not serious.”

  Blaine glanced at Jim, whose face was set in a hard and unyielding expression.

  What did I ever see in that face?

  “Get dressed, ma’am.”

  With her arm still clutched to her chest, she said, “Look away, will you please?”

  Hours later, Tiffany sat in the island’s only jail cell, a place she’d managed to avoid during her entire wild-child youth, with only the handcuffs to keep her company. The bruises on her wrist and the burning skin on her rear end reminded her of how badly her last-ditch plan to win back Jim had failed. This time, it was really over.

  For a minute, she indulged in a fantasy about sexy Blaine Taylor and the heated look he’d given her when he entered the apartment to find her naked on the floor. In the instant before he remembered his official duties, he’d been nothing more than a man—a man who wanted her. She had no doubt about that, and for some reason, the knowledge comforted her.

  Passing the cuffs back and forth between her hands, Tiffany thought about the girl she’d been before she married Jim at age nineteen. Full of ambition and dreams and lists of things she wanted to accomplish by twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, she’d had her life all mapped out.

  Somewhere along the way, she’d allowed his goals and plans to become hers. “Huh. Well, that wasn’t too smart now, was it?” Other than the dance studio, which fed one of her passions, and the day-care center that served a practical purpose after she’d had Ashleigh, she’d fulfilled none of those many goals she’d once had.

  What did she need? What did Tiffany want? Thinking back to those lists, one thing came to mind, the one thing that had topped every list she’d ever made—the desire to have her own store. Not just any old store, but a specialty shop for women. Lingerie, lotions, candles, massage oils, maybe even some sex toys … A nervous tingle rippled through her when she thought about her plans for such a business in the heart of conservative Gansett Island.

  And imagining Jim’s reaction when he realized the owner of the island’s new sexy lingerie shop was the wife he’d discarded? Well, that gave her the giggles.

  Blaine stood outside the jail cell and watched Tiffany talk to herself. Why a woman who looked like her had to stoop to cuffing herself to a guy to get his attention was beyond him.

  She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, exposing the long, elegant column of her neck. Her vulnerability tugged at him. Nothing about her was fragile, yet she seemed so alone that Blaine couldn’t help wanting to help her. However, he’d promised his friends and family that he was done with “projects”—women who needed protecting, bailing out or just downright fixing. This one had trouble written all over her, and he’d already had more than his share.

  If only he could get the vision of her naked and sprawled on the floor out of his mind. If only he hadn’t caught a glimpse of raspberry nipples on the most spectacular breasts he’d ever beheld—and he’d spent a lot of time in the last few months dreaming about what Tiffany Sturgil’s breasts might look like. Reality had far exceeded his fantasies. Forgetting what he’d seen in that apartment wouldn’t happen overnight.

  Steeling himself to deal with her, he unlocked the cell door.

  Her head whipped up, and her green eyes connected with his.

  Blaine felt the impact from the top of his head to the bottom of his size-thirteen feet. The surge below his belt caught him off guard. Clearing his throat and attempting to rid his mind of naked Tiffany pictures, he stepped into the cell.

  She tensed, and right away Blaine’s heart went out to her.

  You can’t save the world one woman at a time, he heard his mother saying. Enough is enough, Blaine.

  “Do I have to spend the night?” she asked in a tiny voice.

  “No.”

  Her sigh of relief echoed through the small cell. “I’ve been here a long time.”
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  “I was at the clinic, speaking to your husband.”

  “Ex-husband.”

  Blaine was ridiculously proud to realize she’d moved on at some point in the last few hours. Using his best stern cop voice, he continued. “I managed to talk him out of pursuing the B&E, assault and kidnapping charges, all of which are felonies.”

  Tiffany swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

  “You do have to make restitution on the tires, and he’s demanding a restraining order, requiring you stay at least five hundred feet from him except for when you’re dropping off or picking up your daughter.”

  “Bastard,” she whispered. “That rat bastard.” Her big eyes shone with tears.

  Damn it. If there was one thing Blaine couldn’t handle, it was a woman’s tears. Without giving himself time to think about the implications, he sat next to her on the narrow bunk. “Mind if I ask you something?”

  She swiped at a tear as if it was pissing her off. “Sure.”

  “What’s a nice girl like you doing with a tool like him?”

  The snort of laughter seemed to take her by surprise. “Gee, Chief, don’t hold back.”

  Pleased that he’d succeeded in turning her tears to laughter, he shrugged. “It’s an honest question and one I’ve had for a while now.”

  “I have no idea,” she said without an ounce of guile. “At first I thought he was cute, sexy …” She glanced at him. “You know?”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it. He doesn’t do it for me.”

  When she laughed again, a coil of desire heated Blaine from within, making him wish he’d taken off his jacket. “He doesn’t do it for me anymore, either.” Gathering a thick handful of hair, she twisted it into a knot that exposed the exquisite stretch of neck again.

  Blaine wanted to drag his tongue from the shallow hollow of her collarbone all the way to her delicate earlobe. He could only imagine how sweet she’d taste. Shifting to relieve the growing pressure in his lap, he forced himself to pay attention to what she was saying and not what she was doing.