Stand By Your Man

by Susan Fox

  In the back of her throat, a whimper and moan combined to make a wordless sound that spoke of pleasure, hunger, need. To him, it said “more.” As lust slammed through him, that was exactly what he wanted.

  He explored her mouth thoroughly, then let her taste his. His lips sucked the ripe center of her bottom lip, teasing it, laving it, doing to it what he longed to do to her nipple. Then to her clit.

  He’d never been really big on kissing. It was okay, depending on the woman, but mostly just a means to an end. The end being sex. Tonight was different. Karen had said no sex, and he wouldn’t push. He wouldn’t reach for her breast or slide his hand between her thighs. No matter how badly he wanted to. Hell, resisting touching this woman was maybe even as hard as resisting a drink, but he’d respect her boundaries if it killed him.

  So he sank deep into the kiss, enjoying it for exactly what it was: a special, sensual moment. Possibly the only kiss he and Karen would ever share. And that thought chilled his heated blood.

  Slowly, he drew back. “Oh, man.”

  Her cheeks glowed and her pink lips were damp and swollen. But then she pressed her lips together and a frown line creased her forehead. “Jamal, I believe in being forthright.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Good.”

  “I like you, I’m attracted to you, and I think I could care for you.”

  Care? This amazing woman could care for him? “I don’t know what to say.”

  “But I can’t go there, I can’t head down that path. Not if you’re only looking for a hookup.” Her lashes lowered. “I’d only get hurt.” They flicked up again and she gazed steadily at him. “I’m only interested in a relationship with a possibility of a future.”

  “A future . . .”

  “I know we’ve only recently met, but I just mean that, uh . . . What I’m trying to say is, if you’re only looking for casual sex, if you’re sure you never want to settle down with a woman, or if you can’t imagine me being that woman, then—” She broke off with a self-deprecating laugh. “Crap. I may be forthright, but I’m not exactly articulate.”

  “No, I get it.” Until tonight, he’d never thought about having a future with a woman. But in that basketball vision, the woman darting down the steps to join the game had looked a lot like Karen MacLean. “Tonight has been, uh, a lot.” Telling this woman emotional shit he’d never told a soul. Feeling things for her that he’d never felt before.

  But hell, if she knew who he really was, this woman with her high standards would write him off as the fuckup he’d proven to be. Though . . . That was the past. He was sober and he would stay sober. No more fuckups. He could stick his dirty secret in a box, lock it, and throw away the key.

  She nodded. “It has been a lot.”

  He reached for her hand and clasped it in his. “I’d never want to hurt you.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I need to go now. Guess I need to do some thinking.”

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “Let me know how it goes.”

  Chapter 5

  A month after the night he’d spent talking to Karen MacLean, Jamal sat across from Jake in a seedy bar in Winnipeg. They both had scruffy facial hair and fake tattoos. Initially, another member had been assigned to go undercover with Jake, but when he was stricken with appendicitis, Jamal had filled in. They were trying to bust a new gang, the Black Devils, who were dealing drugs to local kids.

  Eying Jake’s beer enviously, Jamal took a sip of his tomato juice and bitters. “One hell of a job for an alcoholic.”

  “You need any motivation to stay sober, just take a look over there.” Jake nodded toward a guy in the corner whose shaky hands, even cupped around his glass, could barely lift it to his mouth.

  The grungy wino was way less motivation than the knowledge of how Jamal had let Jake down. “Hard to believe that’s the route I was on.”

  “Harder to believe Brooke was doing it too.”

  “Amen. That’s one hell of a lady.” Five years sober. For him, that seemed a very long way off. He only hoped that, as other recovering alcoholics told him, the cravings diminished over time.

  “Yeah.” Though Jake said he and Brooke had broken things off, it was obvious she was on his mind.

  “There you go, all mushy faced again,” Jamal ribbed him. As they spoke, he kept an eye on the pool table. The group of students were playing a half-assed game, looking jittery, like they were more interested in scoring drugs.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about Karen MacLean.”

  Of course he had.

  Jake gave a wicked grin. “The two of you seemed to be getting on pretty well that night you left Brooke’s so early. Almost makes a guy think . . .”

  “Don’t go there. Believe it or not, we sat up all night talking.” He took a sip of his drink, still keeping an eye on the students. No action yet.

  “Talking? What did you find to talk about all night?”

  “You know. Her job, my job. Parents, schooling. What she wants out of life. What I want out of life.”

  Jake gaped. “Hell, I’ve known you almost fifteen years and we’ve never talked about that shit.”

  “That’s a woman for you.” No, that was Karen. She’d told him that her mom’s life turned around in five minutes when she met Karen’s dad. Jamal was coming to think that maybe his own life had turned around, talking to Karen that evening.

  “Yeah, I guess.” A pause. Then, “So, what the hell do you want out of life?”

  The picture that had popped into Jamal’s mind that night was seeming more and more solid. He’d float it by his buddy, see how Jake reacted. “The usual, I guess.” He tried to sound casual. “Good woman, couple of kids. Job I enjoy.” No alcohol; no cravings; no weakness. “House, maybe a dog. Did you know Karen has a German shepherd?”

  “Well, hell.” Jake’s tone said that Jamal had given away more than he’d meant to.

  When the other man didn’t say anything else for a few minutes, Jamal had to ask. “You thinking I’m crazy? You can’t see me teaching some little boy or girl how to play basketball?” Staying sober, being in a loving relationship, having a family. Being normal.

  “Huh. Yeah, I can.” He sounded surprised. “You’d go for staff sergeant, and it’d really be a desk job?”

  “Likely.” This assignment had come at a good time. It helped Jamal test his feelings about undercover work. As much as he enjoyed excitement and challenge, this wasn’t the right job for an alcoholic, nor for a guy who had personal commitments. “Figure priorities gotta change when you hook up with someone special.”

  When this job was done, he’d give Karen a call. See if she’d like to come down to Vancouver and let him buy her a Thai dinner. Or, since she’d have a pile of work cleaning up Miller’s mess, he’d offer to go up to Caribou Crossing.

  The bar door opened and two suspected Black Devils entered. “Action,” he muttered.

  Jake raised his beer glass and flicked them a glance. “So you’re going to see Karen again?”

  One of the pool players made eye contact with one of the gang members.

  “Thought I might head up that way when we get back. How ’bout you and Brooke?”

  Slowly, Jake shook his head. The light had gone out of his gray eyes. “Don’t see it happening. She’s got a good life going for her. Doesn’t need me.”

  “Yeah, but do you need her?”

  “Don’t need anyone.”

  No, a man shouldn’t need anyone. Jamal didn’t. But that wasn’t really what he was asking. Karen would know the right way to phrase the question, to make Jake dig deeper. Casually, he raised his smartphone, holding it like he was checking texts or scrolling through contacts. Instead, he had its camera at the ready.

  The college kid left the pool table and headed toward the men’s room. Jamal clicked shots as the gang member sauntered down the hallway after him, then put the phone to his ear. Pretending he was on a call, he said, “You two got pretty strong chemistry.”<
br />
  “Yeah, that’s for sure. And I care about her. But it wouldn’t be fair to her. I can’t come and go in her life. She’s not that kind of woman. She wants stability, peace. She doesn’t want some guy who spends his life like this.” He gestured around the grungy bar.

  “You plan on doing this for the rest of your life?”

  “Don’t know what else I’d do.”

  “Don’t see the basketball thing working for you?”

  Jake snorted. “Guess I don’t see myself as a parent. Most parents fuck up their kids’ lives. Don’t want any part of that.”

  Nor did Jamal. Karen seemed to think he’d be an okay dad, but Jake had known him way longer. “You think I’d fuck up my kid’s life?” he asked, still pretending to be on the phone.

  Jake pondered. “You’d try not to. Besides, seems to me Karen’s got her head on pretty straight.”

  Jamal couldn’t hold back a grin. “So you’re seeing me and Karen?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “White gal,” he pointed out.

  “Didn’t seem to bother her. Does it bother you?”

  “Nah. Poor mongrel kids, though. White, black, and Latino.”

  “Could be pretty.” Jake grinned. “If they take after Karen, not you.”

  And that was the truth. Noting the college kid returning, Jamal lowered his phone and pretended to find another number as he surreptitiously snapped more shots. Kid was sniffing like he’d tried out a sample. He joined his friends, said something, and they abandoned their pool game and headed for the door. Mission accomplished. The two gang members took a corner table.

  Jamal put his phone away. “Free table. Shoot some pool?” It’d keep them occupied while they kept an eye on the Black Devils.

  “Why not?” Jake rose. Then he leaned over and muttered, “When you go to Caribou Crossing, get Karen to take you line dancing.”

  “Line dancing?” Now that, he had some trouble with. Basketball, yeah; line dancing, not so much. “Brooke do that?”

  “She’s good.”

  “Bet she’s good at most anything she chooses to do.”

  “That’s the truth.” Jake finished his beer.

  “Never saw you like that with anyone before.”

  “Like what?”

  Jamal searched for words. Unfamiliar ones. “Relaxed. Happy.”

  Jake frowned, then said, “Get us some more drinks, will ya? I’ll grab the table before someone else gets it.”

  Chapter 6

  Karen walked back to the detachment on a Thursday morning after a quick coffee break with Brooke Kincaid. She was glad the two of them had become friends, but they needed to stop talking about Jamal and Jake. In more than a month, there’d been no contact from either man. Though Brooke asserted that she and Jake had enjoyed a good time and agreed to end it, he was clearly still on her mind. As for Jamal, that night Karen and he had talked and kissed had obviously meant more to her than it had to him.

  Vowing to put him out of her mind, Karen strode into the detachment. Her detachment, until a replacement for Miller was put in place. The phone on her desk was ringing. “Corporal MacLean.”

  “Karen MacLean.” A male voice, molasses rich, caressed the four syllables.

  Jamal! His name almost burst out on a gush of excitement but she managed to hold back. Likely this was a business call. Briskly, she said, “Jamal? What can I do for you?”

  “Say that you’ll see me.”

  “I, uh . . .” She’d made it clear she was only interested in a real relationship and he’d said he had some thinking to do. If he wanted to see her . . . Her heart skipped.

  “Jake and I are in Winnipeg. Been doing a U/C assignment.”

  “Oh?” Was that why he hadn’t called?

  “We’re tidying things up today, then flying home.”

  “And?” Would he ever get to the point? Her heart would go into fibrillation if he didn’t.

  “I’ve been thinking. Want to see you and talk about it.”

  Did that mean he did see a possible future for them, or what? “Could you give me a clue?” she asked warily.

  A low chuckle met her ear. “Maybe one. Been thinking about a basketball hoop in the driveway.”

  Her heart clutched. A home, kids. A wife. He wouldn’t tell her this if he didn’t think she might be part of that picture. “A basketball hoop is good.” Her voice came out shaky; then she laughed. “It’s very good, Jamal.”

  “I wondered if you’d like to come down to Vancouver for Thai food or—”

  “Oh God, I’d love to, but there’s so much going on here.”

  “Figured there might be. How ’bout I come up tomorrow? Spend the weekend. Whatever spare time you get, we can see each other. Talk.” He paused, then said seductively, “Or, you know, whatever.”

  The tone said sex. And oh yes, she wanted that whatever so badly. “Yes, come. Come as soon as you can. I’ll free up some time.” Did she sound overeager?

  “Be there as soon as I can.”

  She smiled into the phone. He sounded pretty damned eager too.

  Friday afternoon, Karen left the detachment early, at five o’clock. At home, she showered, brushed her hair to a sheen, and rubbed lemongrass lotion into her skin. Her sage green sundress wasn’t exactly sexy—she didn’t own “sexy” because she figured it wasn’t appropriate for a small-town cop—but the dress did have a short skirt and thin shoulder straps, baring more skin than she typically showed. Her ears weren’t pierced and she never wore earrings, but she did add a gold chain necklace.

  Anxiously, she paced around the house. Jamal had said he’d fly up and rent a vehicle at the airport in Williams Lake, an hour and a half away.

  She’d organized the evening in her mind. A drink here and a private chance to talk, then dinner at the Wild Rose because she wasn’t confident enough to try out her cooking skills on him. After, if everything was going well, coffee back here and . . . that remained to be seen. But the bed had fresh sheets and she’d shaved her legs.

  Caribou Crossing would have eyes on her. Dinner in public, Jamal’s rental car parked outside her place. She had to find out, right off the top, why he was here. If they were entering into a real relationship, then she was fine with people knowing.

  Tennison, out in the yard, barked excitedly.

  Karen flew to the front window. A black Jeep Wrangler had pulled up behind her truck, and Jamal stepped out. Oh my, he looked good, dressed in jeans and a cream-colored shirt with the sleeves rolled up his dark forearms. He took a padded rectangular bag—a cooler?—out of the Jeep and opened the front gate. Inside, he gave Tennison a quick pat and then strode up the walk.

  Heart racing, Karen waited. She didn’t want to greet him outside, where nosy neighbors could watch.

  As soon as he stepped onto the porch, she swung the door open. Though she meant to say “hi,” the word stuck in her throat. All she could do was stare at him.

  A big grin split his face and his eyes widened as he took her in, from head to bare, unpainted toes. “Even better than I remember,” he murmured. He nudged Tennison, who’d followed him and was sniffing at the bag, away, strode into the house, and closed the door. The bag went on the table by the door and then Jamal was in front of her. His hands grasped her shoulders.

  Karen trembled at the surge of heat that rushed through her, and gazed into his dark, shining eyes. As he leaned in for a kiss, her legs flexed and she went up on her toes—an automatic movement as she was drawn inevitably toward him. Her lips parted on a soft gasp of pure want, and then his mouth claimed hers.

  She answered with an equal demand as her arms went around his waist and his around her shoulders.

  Mmm, the kiss was hot. Tender yet demanding. Questing tongues, tiny nips. Soft, throaty moans. Her needy whimper as arousal arced through her, straight to her sex. Her pelvis pressed against his fly, where, already, a rigid erection met her. The knowledge of how badly he wanted her made her even hotter.

  God, this w
as so good. Even better than their first amazing kiss because now they knew. They knew....

  Wait a minute.

  As her heart tried to thud its way out of her chest, she forced herself to pull away and step back. Panting for air, she hunted for the right words.

  “Too fast?” he asked, his voice as ragged as her breathing. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know. We got carried away.” By passion. She’d never had that happen before. “Jamal, I need to know . . .” Know that she could trust him the way her instincts—and her lustful body—urged her to. “When you said ‘basketball hoop,’ what did you mean?” Intently, nerves taut with hope, she watched his face.

  He gave a rueful grin. “That wasn’t enough words? Uh, it means . . . that I have a dream of a future now.”

  His frown of concentration told her he was struggling to express himself. As she’d seen before, talking about feelings and dreams didn’t come easily to this very private, independent man. But he did look totally sincere and her anxiety eased.

  “The kind of future I never saw for myself before,” he said. “Like, with a family. A home. A regular job, no more undercover assignments.” He gave a rather shaky laugh. “Guess you’d call it a normal life.” His words flowed more freely now, and the expression in his eyes was warm and caring. “You’re the one who made me see it, want it, believe maybe I could have it. You’re the woman in the dream, Karen. I can’t make promises, but . . .” He shrugged, apparently out of words now.

  “No, of course you can’t, and nor can I.” Her heart sang and, totally uncharacteristically, her eyes were damp. “It’s too soon. But you’ve told me what I need to know. And I have that same dream.”

  “Doesn’t bother you, you being white and me being brown?”

  Huh? In this day and age? “Seriously? Are you saying it bothers you?”

  “Hell no. I like your pretty white skin.”

  She gave a teasing huff. “I am not white. At least no parts of me that you’ve seen so far. I have a nice outdoorsy tan.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing the parts that aren’t tanned.”