by Mari Carr
He leaned toward her, capturing her gaze. “You’re not listening to me.”
Sunnie stopped talking, studying his face. “Yes, I am. I just think that it’s time for you to start dating again.”
“And you think you know what I want in a woman?”
“Of course I do.” She said it with such confidence, such assurance, it annoyed Landon. She always acted like he was an open book—a boring one at that. Landon was the predictable guy, the steady and sure friend who never did anything remotely unusual or interesting.
“You’re wrong. You don’t have a clue.”
His assertion took her aback. For about two seconds.
Then she laughed.
On any other day, at any other time, when Landon was sober, he wouldn’t have thought twice about her comments, wouldn’t have let them get under his skin.
This wasn’t that time.
“I mean it, Sunnie.”
His suddenly angry tone seemed to penetrate through the haze of her tequila-fogged brain.
“Landon, listen—”
She was going to argue about it. Of course she was. It was what Sunnie did. For a young woman, she was a dangerous blend of opinionated and confident. It meant winning fights with her took tenacity.
“You don’t know a thing about me when it comes to my tastes in women,” he assured her.
She started to speak, but he cut her off again when he added, “Or what I like in bed.”
That caught her attention. Her eyes narrowed briefly, in shock, then she tilted her head, and he knew he’d piqued her interest.
“Like what?”
He grinned, and the words—freed by tequila and beer and too many nights alone with his hand—came easily.
“I like being in charge in the bedroom, directing everything that happens.”
“Like what?” she repeated, stressing the words, wanting more details. She was clearly fascinated.
“I like playing with a woman’s breasts, sucking on her nipples until they’re hard, bending her over my lap and spanking her ass, tying her up and going down on her, throwing her legs over my shoulders and fucking her like there’s no tomorrow…and then flipping her to her stomach and taking her ass the same way.”
Sunnie’s mouth fell open, and Landon tried to figure out if it was absolute shock or utter horror driving the response.
“Holy shit,” she whispered, then she leaned closer, scrutinizing his face. “You’re drunk.”
He nodded. “So are you.”
Their faces were mere inches apart—and that was when it hit Landon.
Hit him like a ton of bricks.
He wanted to kiss her.
He wanted to kiss Sunnie Young.
He’d never in a million years felt that desire, never even considered it.
She was Finn’s kid sister, a pain in the ass. To quote her and Snoop, too wild, too young, too free. She was the opposite of what he looked for in a woman.
Maybe that explained a lot about his single state.
Jesus. He really was drunk.
Time to retreat and revisit this tomorrow without the tequila flowing through his veins.
And he would have done that.
If Sunnie hadn’t licked her lips and moved closer.
“Is that really what you like?” she whispered.
He nodded, then Landon met her halfway, his lips touching hers, their tastes identical—the perfect blend of bacon and tequila.
Sunnie kissed like she did everything else in life, with exuberant enthusiasm. Her tongue was in his mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck. He reached for her, his fingers touching her bare midriff, the temptation to move higher to her breasts taunting him.
He was vaguely aware of his surroundings and—
“Sunnie? Landon? What the fuck, man?”
Landon jerked back at the sound of Finn’s voice. It took him a second to clear his vision. Sunnie seemed to be struggling to do the same.
Then she moved back, looking adorably confused and…dammit…regretful. Oops, she mouthed.
Landon tried to shake off the remnants of the kiss, not wanting to move lest it draw attention to exactly what kind of impact it’d had on him. The fact he was this fucking hard given the level of alcohol in his system was impressive.
Finn was standing next to the couch, glaring down at them. “What the hell was that?”
Sunnie, never one to back down from anything, stood up, flipping her messy hair over her shoulders. “A kiss.”
“You two don’t kiss.”
Sunnie squared her shoulders. “Says who?”
Finn opened his mouth, then shut it. Landon recognized the second his best friend realized he was talking to the wrong person. Finn sat down on the edge of the coffee table.
“Drunk?” he asked Landon, with a surprisingly affable grin.
“As a skunk.”
Finn loved the response, as Landon knew he would. With just a few words, he’d assured his friend the kiss wasn’t intentional.
It was a mistake.
Or…
Fuck.
It wasn’t a mistake.
“Damn, man,” Finn said, slapping a hand on Landon’s knee. “Not sure I’ve ever seen you this wasted. Hope you remember this in the morning, because I’m going to have a good time with this story.”
Landon rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you will, but for the record…” He decided to prove he could push back just as hard. “I just kissed your sister.”
Finn laughed loudly as he stood back up. “Jesus. You’re right. The joke’s on me. Might have to scratch my own eyes out. That is something I cannot un-see.”
Sunnie punched Finn on the arm, calling him an idiot as her brother headed back to the bacon feast.
Landon glanced up at Sunnie, who wasn’t very steady on her feet. Part of him considered apologizing to her, but he wasn’t sorry. Truth was, he was sorrier Finn had stopped them.
He stood as well.
“That was…interesting,” she said, grinning widely, completely unruffled by what had just happened.
Meanwhile, Landon was struggling to keep himself from kissing her again.
She lifted her pinky out to him. “I pinky swear never to ever kiss you again. That was just too freaking weird.”
Landon wrapped his pinky with hers, though he made no such vow aloud.
There was nothing weird about that kiss.
Nothing at all.
Chapter Three
“Baltimore. There’s more than murder here.”
Landon nodded as the reporter doing a ride-along with him explained the impetus behind the article he was writing. His superior, Aaron, had already given him the rundown earlier at the precinct. And he’d caught shit from his partner, Miguel, for getting stuck with “babysitting duty.”
The phrase that had prompted the New York journalist’s story idea was actually a hot-ticket item with tourists—the damn words emblazoned on T-shirts, hats and bumper stickers—sold at nearly every gift shop in the city.
As a cop, working hard to keep Baltimore safe, he took exception to the slogan. In truth, there’d been a decrease in violent crimes last year, but even Landon knew that was hardly something worth bragging about, considering the city still ranked in the top ten when it came to murder.
They continued to drive through the city, Landon making sure to show the man a fair mix of all Baltimore had to offer. There were dangerous areas—that was true of any large city—but there were safer zones as well, places where people could walk without fear.
It had been a long shift, but a glance at the clock in his dashboard proved it was finally over. The reporter hadn’t gotten much of a show. They’d answered two domestic violence calls—both involving alcohol—dealt with one mugging, one lost purse, three noise complaints—all in the same neighborhood, thanks to some teens throwing one hell of a wild party in their parents’ absence—and issued a handful of citations for driving violations.
“We should probably
start heading back. I hope you’ve gotten enough information for your article,” Landon said, turning off Madison, onto a smaller side street. “I realize—”
Landon stopped talking.
As he made the turn, the headlights revealed something for a split second. Dusk had fallen, the tall buildings casting too many dark shadows for him to see much at all. But he was certain he’d seen what looked like two people in a struggle.
Turning on the vehicle’s spotlight, he angled his cruiser in that direction.
“What is that?” The reporter pointed through the windshield, sitting up excitedly.
A man was attempting to steal a woman’s purse, but she was putting up one hell of a fight.
Landon threw on the flashing lights two seconds after the assailant reacted to the spotlight shining in his direction. The guy shoved the woman roughly to the ground and took off running.
“Stay here,” he ordered the reporter, getting out of the car. Landon unfastened his gun, a protective measure in case the man came back. Using the walkie-talkie on his shoulder, he requested backup and reported his location.
The woman was pushing herself up when he approached.
He was less than ten feet away when he recognized the dark blonde hair.
“Sunnie?” He raced to where she sat, kneeling next to her. The spotlight from the car was bright, both of them squinting. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light.
She looked up at him, and he saw the determination in her eyes. There was a red mark on her cheek that was probably going to turn into a nasty bruise.
Landon glanced around the surrounding area. The man was long gone. “Are you okay?”
She was still wearing her nurse’s scrubs, but he couldn’t understand how she’d gotten from Johns Hopkins to here. Surely she wasn’t walking home at this time of day? It was a three-mile trek and it was nearly dark.
Sunnie nodded. “Yeah. I think so. Son of a bitch was trying to steal my purse.”
“And you thought fighting back was a good idea?” He touched the red mark on her cheek. Landon’s temper sparked as he considered what could have happened to her.
She tilted her head, as if he’d missed the most important part. “He was taking my purse, Landon.”
“So?”
“So…it’s a Louis Vuitton. I love this purse.”
He shook his head. “Are you serious right now?”
She brushed off his concern. “The guy wasn’t even that big, and I’m pretty sure I was winning.”
Landon looked at the mark on her face and lost his shit. “Who gives a fuck how big he was? Do you understand how stupid and dangerous it is to fight back? He could have had a weapon or—”
“Okay,” she said hastily, simply to stop his tirade. “Okay. I’m sorry. Really. But…”
Here we go.
Sunnie was the queen of “buts.”
She lifted the bag. “It’s a new purse, my gift to myself for graduating and getting the nursing job at the hospital. It was super expensive. And it’s mine,” she stressed.
“I don’t care how much it cost! You could have been seriously hurt!”
“I know.” Then she gave him her standard Sunnie grin, the one that told him he wasn’t going to like what she said next. “I don’t suppose we could keep this to ourselves and not tell anyone about it?”
By anyone, she meant her dad.
“We need to file a report.”
She considered that. “Yeah, but he didn’t actually get my bag. And I’m not hurt. Honest.”
He tried to do a visual inspection of her. They were kneeling on the ground. He couldn’t see any cuts or blood, and her clothing was still intact, just the red mark on her cheek.
She was the picture of calm, cool and collected, even after the battle she’d just waged. Meanwhile, his heart was racing a million miles a minute as he imagined everything that could have happened.
He tried to lock it down, even as he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “Jesus, Sunshine,” he murmured.
Sunnie accepted the hug, though he could tell she was surprised at first. “I really am sorry, Landon. Swear to God, next time,” she murmured against his chest, “I’ll let go of the bag.”
He wasn’t sure who was comforting whom with the hug. He sort of thought she was trying to calm him down. The problem was, he knew all too well how badly things could have gone. Then he realized she was trembling slightly.
Ah, so she did get it. He tightened his hold.
“What were you doing out here alone?”
She pushed away to face him. “Derek picked me up after work. We got into a fight. I told him to go fuck himself, and the asshole stopped the car and told me to get out. I should have stayed on the main street, should have called for an Uber, but I was pissed off. I stormed away and then…that guy jumped me, and I kind of went all Tasmanian Devil on his ass. Guys suck.”
Sunnie was impulsive. She acted on emotion—reacted—then considered the consequences later.
“He made you get out? Here?” he asked, glancing around the dark street. Derek, the latest in a long line of occasional boyfriends, had dropped her off in the middle of a sketchy neighborhood. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker,” he muttered.
His words had come out more serious, more deadly than he’d intended. The tone obviously caught Sunnie by surprise yet again.
She looked up at his face and laughed. “Wow. Dial it back a notch, Landon. That Rambo thing is a serious turn-on.”
He closed his eyes, praying for patience…and to calm down. He hadn’t quite forgiven her for being so reckless.
They really were polar opposites, always had been. Sunnie had personality to spare, while Landon was the quiet one. Calm, stoic. If she was the queen of overreaction, he was lord and master of composed. This time, the roles felt reversed.
He stood up, helping her rise as well. She winced slightly, leaning heavily on him.
“What the hell?” he asked, looking down.
She grimaced. “Okay, well, now, don’t get pissed again…but I appear to have twisted my ankle.”
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
She shot him an incredulous look. “I’ll get laughed out of the E.R. if I show up asking them to take care of something this silly! It’s fine.”
“Sunnie,” he started to insist.
“I’m a nurse, Landon. Trust me.”
She’d graduated from college a month earlier, jumping right into work from her residency after wowing the doctors and her professors. She was a born caregiver, her humor and bedside manner making her the perfect nurse.
A year ago, she’d expressed an interest in pursuing oncology nursing after serving as a bridesmaid in her cousin Padraig’s wedding. Padraig had married a beautiful woman named Mia, who’d died a few months after the ceremony.
Sunnie had always lived life with wild abandon. However, after Mia died, she took the pursuit of her career, the way she wanted to help others, more seriously.
What she hadn’t managed to tone down was her party-girl image, the way she spent her free time with losers like Derek.
“Okay. No hospital. But we really do need to go to the precinct, file a report.”
“Hell no.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Please don’t make me. Dad will kill me.”
He shrugged. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me. After the stunt you just pulled.” It was clear he hadn’t made much headway on showing her the error of her ways. Maybe Aaron could.
“Please, Landon! Can’t we just keep this between ourselves? There’s no reason to upset everyone.” He noticed her hands were shaking, and it suddenly occurred to him that as the adrenaline wore off, she was starting to get it.
“Sunnie, what you did was reckless.”
She leaned closer, batting her big blue eyes at him. If she were a stranger, he might have been charmed. But this was Sunnie, and he knew all her tricks when it came to getting her way.
“Do you mind just taking me home?”
It was against procedure. A crime had been committed. A report needed to be filed, questions needed to be answered. They needed a description of the assailant. Landon was a rule follower. He always had been.
“Sunnie,” he started again.
“Landon,” she cooed.
“You realize that will never work with me, right?”
She straightened up, the fake sweetness evaporating, the real Sunnie emerging. Funny how he preferred the sass over the sugar. “Oh my God. I have had the shittiest night in history. Please, don’t play Boy Scout tonight.”
Her words tweaked his temper. Sunnie constantly cast him in the eternal do-gooder role, while throwing herself at bad boy after bad boy.
She’d avoided him since that kiss on April Fools. He hadn’t realized it until this minute, but when he considered the last two months, he saw the truth.
He’d let her get away with it because he had been fighting his feelings for her, trying to convince himself his memory of that kiss was too clouded by tequila to mean anything.
“I swear this is only going two ways, babe,” she insisted. “I can ride in the cruiser with you back to the pub. Or walk home on my shitty ankle. Either way, there is no way I’m going to the pre—”
“Goddammit, Sunnie!” Landon cupped her cheeks, leaned forward and kissed her. Just to shut her up.
Sunnie jerked slightly, shocked by his impulsiveness. Then her lips softened against his, her head turning ever so slightly as she pressed closer. He opened his mouth and she opened hers, their tongues touching. Her hands rested against his chest, his bulletproof vest preventing him from feeling them there.
He wanted them against his bare chest, wanted her to feel how hard his heart was beating…for her.
Jesus.
For her.
Sunnie broke the union first. One look at her face proved she didn’t understand what had just happened any more than he did.
He was the thinker. She was the doer.
But tonight…he flipped the roles, acting on instinct.
“What the hell was that?”
“I was trying to shut you up,” he lied, struggling to pull himself together.
She laughed. “Well, I guess that’s one way to do it. You also could have told me to stop talking.”