by Curry, Edna
"Umm, sure, but not just yet. But after I have a little one I may let you travel alone for a while. As long as you promise to come back home." She nuzzled his cheek with her lips, unwilling to break contact, even to ask questions. Besides, she already knew the answer, now.
Just try and stop me," he said, sliding his arms around her and claiming her lips once more.
The delicious, warm glow spread to her center again.
But a thought occurred, and she broke contact to say, "Jeff, let’s have a spring wedding on the Princess."
"The Princess?" he murmured, exploring with strong, sensitive fingers.
"You know—the boat on the river in Happy Valley. We can be married floating down the river. Lots of couples do."
"What about guests? That was a small boat, if I remember correctly," he frowned.
"Not that boat, silly. The Princess is much larger. There's plenty of room, and there's a catering service. Besides, we have to wait until Daddy's better, so he can give me away."
Jeff groaned. "Spring seems so far away," he told her, and began kissing her again.
Diane laughed. "You'll survive."
She returned his kiss with fervor.
This time, there was no one to interrupt them.
The End.
***
About the author:
Edna Curry lives in MN and often sets her novels there among the lakes, evergreens and river valleys. She especially enjoys the Dalles area of the St. Croix Valley, gateway to the Wild River, which draws many tourists who give her story ideas. Besides non-fiction articles, she writes mystery, romance and romantic suspense novels.
Edna is married and is a member of the Romance Writers of America and four of its chapters: Midwest Fiction Writers, KOD, WISRWA and Northern Lights Writers.
Circle of Shadows (half of Deadly Duos #1) was a finalist in RWA's prestigious Golden Heart Contest.
Visit her webpage at http://www.ednacurry.com
Recent or upcoming books by Edna Curry:
My Sister’s Keeper
Secret Daddy Whiskey Creek Press
Best Friends
Bear Trap
Double Trouble
Flight to Love
Circle of Shadows
Traveling Bug
Never Love a Logger Whiskey Creek Press
I’ll Always Find You Whiskey Creek Press-Torrid
Meet Me, Darling Melange Books
Seven Short stories
The Jam of all Jams
http://tinyurl.com/b4kbnjb
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The Lilliput Bar Mystery
Mystery Series:
Yesterday’s Shadow A Lacey Summers’ PI Mystery #1
Dead Man’s Image A Lacey Summers’ PI Mystery #2
Dead in Bed A Lacey Summers’ PI Mystery #3 Whiskey Creek Press
The Eccentric Lady A Lacey Summer’s PI Mystery #4
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Eccentric Lady blurb:
A Lacey Summers P.I. Novel
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AN9ZPOE
Associates link: http://amzn.to/SYKe4B
Lacey’s new client, Patti, comes to her in a panic because her Aunt Agnes is missing. Patti calls Sheriff Ben stupid for refusing to investigate. Is Patti lying? The case gets more weird when Agnes’s body is found, her nasty nephew and brother and his girlfriend arrive, and Patti begins dating Agnes’ lawyer.
Though Ben and even her trucker fiance, Paul, want her to drop the case, Lacey continues searching for the truth. Someone else doesn’t want her snooping, either. When threats and intimidation don’t work, she’s kidnapped. Will she survive to solve this case?
Excerpt:
Beside Paul’s Buick sat an obviously new blue Honda Accord, and on my doorstep stood a tall, lovely blonde woman. I didn’t like the way her gaze followed Paul striding to his car, so my tone may have been a bit sharp. “Hello. May I help you?”
Her head swung back around and she eyed me from clear, blue eyes. “You’re Landers’ Lady PI?”
I nodded. “Yes, I’m Lacey Summers, a private investigator. People do call me that.” Most people didn’t think of ‘Lady PI’ as a derogative term. Just a local nickname they’d adopted for me. So I try not to be offended by it.
She held out a hand for me to shake. “I’m Patti Jones, Agnes Simms’ niece.”
Her tone said that should explain everything to me. Well, it didn’t, though that name was familiar. Where had I heard it before? I wondered as I shook her hand. I couldn’t remember. But I assumed she was a potential client, since she’d asked if I was the PI, so I invited her in. “My office is down here,” I said, leading the way down the wooden stairs. “Watch your step.”
I saw her eye my Golden Labrador dog, so added, “Down, Scamp. Don’t worry, he’s friendly, unless he thinks I need protecting.”
Scamp sniffed her and followed us down to my office, then lay on the floor beside me, keeping the stranger in his sight. From the tension in his body, I knew he’d be ready to pounce if she gave him any excuse.
“Would you like some coffee?” I’d already had my morning caffeine, but I wanted to put her at ease and offering coffee usually does that. Instead of taking the chair I’d indicated, she wandered over to the large window overlooking Long Lake and stared out, her arms folded over her chest. At my question, she turned, eyed me and nodded. “Coffee would be nice.”
I moved to the side table and plugged in the coffeemaker.
“You do know Agnes Simms?” Her voice was a bit skeptical. Oh, oh. Was she going to change her mind about coming here?
As I added water and grounds to the coffeemaker, I wracked my memory for that name. Landers only has a thousand people, so I know most of them. But some work in the cities and only use our little burg as a bedroom town, doing all their shopping and business elsewhere. So those I’ve had little opportunity to meet. “I think I’ve heard the name, but can’t recall meeting her right now. Could you tell me a bit about her? And what your problem is?”
Patti stood at my office window staring out over Long Lake while I stood at the side table making coffee. She was a perfectly groomed, slim woman with long blonde hair. She wore a navy blue business suit with matching high heels and carried a matching leather purse. Her lips and fingertips were bright red. But she wore a worried look on her face instead of a smile.
“My problem is that you have a stupid sheriff!” she burst out, bitterness dripping from her voice.
My head jerked up and I stared at her. She ambled over to the chair by my desk and sat. I thought of Ben, the tall, gangly, middle-aged man who was our county sheriff. He’d also been my late Uncle Henry’s card playing buddy and thus was almost a part of my family. On weekends when I’d visited my uncle during college, I’d fixed that bunch of men more sandwiches and cookies than I could count.
Upset now, I counted to ten to control my temper and said carefully, “I’ve heard Ben called a lot of things, but stupid is a first.”
***