Harlequin Superromance May 2016 Box Set

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Little worried lines formed on her forehead as she scrutinized his face. “You won’t hurt me, will you?”

  “No!” He framed her face in hands that shook with an unfamiliar tremor. “Never.” He hesitated. “I’m a cop, Lina.”

  “Oh.” She nibbled uncertainly on her lower lip as her eyes continued to search his. “Do you have, um, you know? A condom? Because I don’t. And I’m not on anything.”

  “I do. I have a couple in my wallet.”

  Paige had refused to go on the pill or a birth control patch until after the wedding. Didn’t he know how all those hormones made women gain weight? No way was she messing with her body right now! Bran had really hated the necessity of wearing a condom, but right this minute, he didn’t want to think about how he’d have felt if he hadn’t had one.

  Lina laid a hand on his shoulder and rose onto tiptoe. “Then I won’t be sorry,” she murmured, and brushed her mouth over his.

  The kiss exploded. He drove his fingers into that mass of silky hair, tilting her head until he found the perfect angle. Her arms came around his neck and he closed one hand over her bottom, lifting and pressing her against him. That fast, his hips rocked. He had to have her now.

  Their clothes flew. T-shirts first, which caused her to start kissing and stroking his chest. Desperate, he found the catch on her bra and released the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. He propelled her backward until she came up against the bed, then lifted her and laid her down, his mouth capturing a nipple before her back hit the mattress. He licked and teased until she gripped his head and repeated, “Please, please, please.” And then he suckled. The little noises she made had him groaning and pulling back.

  He told her how beautiful she was while he yanked off her boots and peeled tiny panties and stretchy jeans off her curvaceous hips and down those long legs.

  For a second, one knee planted on the bed between her thighs, Bran stopped just to look. He had never even imagined a woman as sexy as this one. Her body was both delicate and voluptuous, her lips puffy from his kisses, her eyes heavy-lidded. And then there was that richly colored hair, masses of it spread across the bedspread. The disconcerting idea struck him that she also looked vulnerable. If she hadn’t been drunk, she’d be grabbing for something to cover herself.

  He reared back to kick off his shoes and unbutton his jeans. Lucky he’d gone into the tavern unarmed, rare for him. His gun was locked in a safe beneath the driver’s seat of his Camaro. A tavern parking lot wasn’t the best place to leave an expensively restored vintage sports car...but damn...he’d never wanted anything in his life the way he did this woman.

  His jeans fit so tightly at the moment, he emptied his pockets onto the dresser top before he cautiously unzipped. Jeans and boxers gone, he pulled out the couple condoms from the wallet, tossing one packet onto the bedside table and ripping open the second one. His hands were still shaking. He lifted his gaze to see that she had risen up onto her elbows and was staring with an expression that did amazing things to his ego. A blush rose on her cheeks even as her tongue came out to touch her lips.

  He got the condom on and crawled forward until he could kiss her again, voraciously this time. He bypassed her glorious breasts and splayed a hand on her belly, circling until his fingers encountered the nest of curls the same honey shade as her hair and just as silky.

  She was already so wet, his finger slid between her folds and right into her. She cried out and grabbed his arms.

  “Now. Please, now.”

  He stroked her for another few seconds, the limit of his self-control, before he spread her thighs and thrust deep.

  She looked at him in astonishment and whispered, “Oh,” after which her eyes closed and she tipped her head back.

  Considerate was beyond him. Bran couldn’t have gone slow if he’d had a gun to his head. He set a hard, fast rhythm that she matched, clutching at him as her hips rose and fell. He couldn’t have stopped the orgasm that lifted him like a monster wave and swept him forward, either. But she cried out at the same time, her tiny convulsions part of the staggering pleasure.

  * * *

  THEY MADE LOVE twice more. In the middle of the night, Lina had come back from the bathroom to find him awake, waiting for her.

  This morning, she’d slid out of an amazing dream to find it had been real. A man’s hard body spooned her. His erection pressed against her butt and his fingers played between her legs.

  She groaned and arched convulsively. He gave a low, husky laugh and closed his teeth on the bundle of muscle and nerves that ran between her neck and shoulder. Then he lifted her leg and slid into her. It felt...amazing. Unlike the night’s tumultuous lovemaking, this time he moved lazily, teasing her by not going as deep as she craved. His fingers circled and pressed until she heard her own small, broken cries.

  Suddenly, he groaned, half lifted her to her knees, and drove hard and fast. She came by the third stroke, taking him with her.

  They both collapsed. After a moment, he groaned.

  “Now, that’s how I like to wake up.”

  Lina hadn’t known it was possible to wake up to anything like that. “It was...really good.” She wasn’t even sure she was 100 percent awake. An awareness that she felt queasy suggested she was. Nothing like a hangover to ground her.

  “I need a shower,” he said, kissed her nape and pushed himself out of bed.

  She heard him gathering his clothes from the floor, but didn’t roll over. She hadn’t even seen his face yet this morning. Lina closed her eyes, glad at least that she could picture him. Big, solid, broad-shouldered. His dark auburn hair had been disheveled. Her fingers remembered how silky that hair was. His face was all male, but too rough-hewn to be handsome. It was his bright blue eyes, sharp, that had captivated her. Now she wondered what he’d seen when he looked at her. Had he known from the beginning that she could be coaxed into bed?

  She moaned. God, what had she done? How stupid was this, getting drunk and checking into a cheap motel for a one-night stand with a guy she’d met at a tavern? A guy whose last name she didn’t even know?

  Really, really stupid, that’s what.

  Worse yet, she couldn’t help wondering if she had half intended to do just this. Why else had she gone to the tavern? She could have gotten drunk at home.

  The shower came on. Lina rolled to her back and covered her eyes with her hands. She had to have been desperate for confirmation that she was an attractive woman. There was no other explanation for her idiocy. Finding out that David had cheated on her had damaged her self-esteem as much as her heart.

  The divorce had been finalized in December.

  Merry Christmas to me.

  She would have said she was over him until she was hit by yesterday’s nugget of news about David and his new wife. Now she couldn’t even kid herself that he’d ever loved her.

  Still...sex with a stranger in a seedy motel room?

  He hadn’t felt like a stranger by the time he kissed her. He’d felt like a guy she had really liked. They had things in common. He seemed...decent. Not to mention sexy. He’d given her an out, and she believed he’d have accepted a no if she’d said it.

  A funny sensation blossomed in her chest, pushing out the shame. Hope? Yes, hope. Maybe he’d really liked her, too. Maybe this wasn’t as sleazy as it seemed.

  Please, God, she thought.

  Deciding she needed to be dressed when he reappeared, Lina slipped out of bed and saw that he’d laid her clothes neatly on the dresser as he picked up his own. Which meant he was considerate, too.

  Her first clue that she’d screwed up majorly was the icky feeling that she was leaking between her legs. Something was running down the inside of her thighs.

  Panic squeezed her. Oh, God. He’d used a condom the first two times they’d...not made love...had sex. But not thi
s morning. She had the awful memory of him tossing a single packet on the bedside stand while tearing open the other one.

  He hadn’t had three.

  “That bastard.”

  Lina calculated quickly. It was late enough in the month, she should be safe—unless he took strange women he picked up in bars to motels on a regular basis and didn’t use condoms.

  Her chest felt horribly tight and she was all but panting for breath. Get dressed. That was what she had to do next.

  In the act of reaching for her clothes, she saw everything he’d left on the dresser top. A wallet, a set of car keys, a Harris County Sheriff’s Department badge and a square piece of heavy vellum paper with a crease suggesting he’d folded it to jam it in a pocket. An invitation. Her heart hammered sickeningly as she looked down at it.

  Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Collins

  Request the honor of your presence

  At the marriage of their daughter

  Paige Marie

  To

  Brandon Murphy

  Saturday, June 23, at 3:00 p.m.

  Lina got stuck on the date. She read it over and over.

  Today. He was getting married today.

  Forget the bachelor party. He’d decided to have a last fling, and she had obliged him.

  The shower turned off.

  Shaking, panicked, desperate, she yanked on her clothes, not bothering to take the time to put on her bra. She had to be gone before he came out of the bathroom. Her car key was still with the money she’d brought in the pocket of her jeans. The realization that he must have paid for her drinks flitted into her head. And why wouldn’t he have? It was still cheap sex.

  She opened and closed the door as quietly as she could, trying to step lightly on the stairs. At the bottom, she took off at a run, barely pausing to check for traffic before tearing across the road. There were only three cars left in the gravel parking lot: hers, a beaten-up pickup truck and a glossy black Camaro. His, of course, she thought bitterly.

  Gasping for breath, Lina unlocked the driver’s door of her car and jumped in. She could see the motel in her rearview mirror. The door to their room remained closed. Either he was still in the bathroom, or he was relieved she was gone.

  He was likely relieved.

  When she pulled onto the road, gravel spit out from beneath her tires.

  * * *

  BRAN SAW THAT the room was empty the instant he opened the bathroom door. His first reaction was shock. Then he swore viciously. How could he be so freaking stupid as to leave his wallet and car keys out here?

  Both were still there, at least, his badge beside them. Man, that would have been embarrassing if she’d taken it. Losing his driver’s license would be a royal pain, too. He flipped open the wallet, relieved at the sight of not only the driver’s license, but also his debit and two credit cards. A little cash was a small price to pay...

  But it was there, too. He flipped through the bills, counted. Seemed about right. Had she not even picked up his wallet?

  No, of course she hadn’t. She wasn’t that kind of woman. Of course she wasn’t.

  Shit, he thought, she did regret the night. The best sex of his life, and she’d run from him, ashamed. And it was his own damn fault. He’d known she didn’t do things like this, that she was drunk and not thinking straight. What had he expected? That she’d be hanging around, wanting to flirt and talk about when they’d see each other again?

  He’d find her...

  Yeah, and how was he going to do that? Blonde woman, twenty-five to thirty-five years old, approximately five foot six. The tiny mole he’d seen on her shoulder? Only helpful for identification if she was found dead. For all he knew, she wasn’t even from around here. If she was? Alina wasn’t a common name...but he had no idea what her last name was, or what she drove. Where she worked, or what she did for a living.

  He swore and leaped for the door, but wasn’t surprised to discover he was too late. His Camaro sat out in front of the tavern, alone except for a rusting pickup he couldn’t in a million years imagine her driving.

  While he’d stood here counting bills, she’d made her getaway. Bran groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.

  Maybe...she’d find him. If she’d even looked at his badge or opened his wallet, she had one up on him. She knew his last name and where he worked.

  That was followed by the cold realization that if she didn’t come looking, it meant she didn’t want to be found, either.

  And he had to honor that.

  Pocketing the badge and wallet, he glanced down and saw the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from beneath the dresser. The maid could pick it up. Bran dropped a ten-dollar bill on the dresser, then walked out, feeling a couple decades older than he had a few days ago.

  CHAPTER TWO

  WITH ONLY A week to go until Christmas, Lina Jurick felt exceptionally unfestive. Her parents weren’t very happy that she wasn’t flying home for the holidays, but pretending to be joyous was beyond her.

  It wasn’t like she was hiding anything from them. Well, not hiding very much anyway. Once she’d made the decision to carry the baby to term, she’d told them she was pregnant. The only part she’d refused to talk about was the identity of the father. She didn’t want to think about Bran “short for Brandon” Murphy, who might or might not be married.

  After she’d fled, it had occurred to her that he could have gone to the tavern for the same reason she had: he was bummed. Say, because his wedding had been canceled.

  That idea was slightly more palatable than the alternative, that she was a last hurrah. But not a whole lot. If his bride-to-be had stood him up right before the wedding, what did that make her, Lina? Some kind of hey-she’s-available fill-in? All cats were gray in the dark, right? And in the morning, when it wasn’t dark anymore, he’d had her from behind and never had to look at her face. If he hadn’t gotten any sex on what should have been his wedding night, he’d certainly had plenty the night before.

  Occasionally she let herself wonder if it had occurred to him he hadn’t used a condom that last time. But, really, what difference did it make whether he’d just forgotten or made the decision to wake up the way he liked even though he couldn’t protect her? The result was the same.

  At least the morning sickness phase was long past. These days, all she had to combat was exhaustion. She needed to go to bed way earlier than normal if she was going to feel anything close to human when her alarm clock went off in the mornings. And, just her luck, middle school kids rode the same buses as high school kids, tying them to a similar schedule. No, worse: her first class was at the obscene hour of seven thirty. High school teachers were able to sleep in ten minutes later.

  Today, she should count her blessings. With two weeks off for the holidays, she could sleep as much as she wanted. Catch up on sleep. Store it. If she could think of anything fun to do, she was free for that, too. Wild and crazy? Not a chance. She’d used up her quota the night she got pregnant.

  She could take a nap after lunch, then go for a swim later.

  A nap and exercise. As a way to spend her first day of vacation, it was such a thriller, even she was depressed. Maybe Maya could get away to have lunch with her.

  Maya answered her call, muted the phone for a minute and came back to say, “Yes, please.” She lowered her voice. “Mr. Floyd is driving me nuts. Must get out of here.”

  Lina changed from her sweats into maternity jeans and a warm sweater with enough stretch to cover her burgeoning belly and put on boots because they zipped and were less work than bending over to tie laces.

  Her mood lifted during the short drive to the bank branch where Maya worked as a loan officer. Once she reached it, she idled briefly out front. Mr. Floyd, the branch manager, discouraged the use of the parking lot for friends and family. If sh
e’d been absolutely determined, she could have squeezed her Kia into a minuscule spot behind a van, but she made a face and decided to skip it. Parking on the cross street made sense anyway; she could pick up a couple of things at the Walgreens on the other corner once she and Maya were back from lunch.

  She locked up and walked past the drive-through and the ATM to the front doors, but when she tried to open one, she couldn’t. They were locked. What on earth—

  Belatedly, she focused on the printed sign plastered to the glass: “Temporarily Closed—Computer Network Issues. We Regret the Inconvenience.”

  How strange. Maya hadn’t said anything, so whatever it was must have just happened. Lina peered in and couldn’t see a soul, teller or customer, which wasn’t a big shock since this bank had a conference room to the right just inside and restrooms to the left. The only other windows looked in at the currently empty conference room. Past the short hallway, a second set of doors led into the bank proper, and what view she would otherwise have had was partially blocked by one of those standing height desks where you could write a check or fill out a deposit slip before getting in line. From this angle, she could only see one teller window, with no one behind it.

  Presumably, IT people were working frantically. Maybe everyone else was gratefully having a cup of coffee, or Mr. Floyd had decided to hold an impromptu staff meeting to be sure nobody was allowed to waste time. Sounded like him.

  Still, Maya was entitled to her lunch break. She would surely have called or at least texted to say she was delayed. And, would they really lock the doors instead of letting customers come in for an explanation of the problem?

  As Lina backed away from the doors, pondering, she took out her phone. No messages, no texts.

  Darn it, people had to be inside. Driving past the parking lot, she’d noticed Mr. Floyd’s dark gray BMW in its place of honor as well as a couple of other cars. Although those might belong to the IT people rather than customers.