Double Take

by Leslie Kelly

  His grip loosened a little. He continued to stare searchingly into her face, his eyes lit by the setting sun that turned them to amber.

  “There’s more. Tell me the rest.”

  “What?”

  “Let down the walls. Stop holding back. Say what you really feel and tell me what you really want.” He lifted a hand and stroked her cheek. “Please, Lindsey. Don’t keep protecting yourself, not from me. You don’t have to be afraid to show me the real you.”

  Knowing what he was asking of her, Lindsey trembled. Was she being a coward? Was this all based on fear? Her fear of losing him, of him being hurt, even her fear of actually having to come out and admit she loved him?

  Was running away, making excuses that it was for his own good, all really about her inability to actually trust him with her heart?

  “I love you,” she whispered, the words barely rising from her lips.

  He stepped closer. “What?”

  She swallowed, gathering her strength. “I love you, Mike. I love you so much, but loving you has made me almost forget who I am. I’m too vulnerable to you.”

  He cupped her face in his hands, staring at her, his eyes filled with tenderness. “Do you trust me, Lindsey? Do you trust me with every bit of yourself—your secrets, your dreams, your dark thoughts, your fondest memories?”

  She considered, but not for long. Nodding, she revealed what was in her heart. “Yes, I do.” She breathed deeply, feeling as though a weight had been lifted. “I really do. I love you so much, and I can’t imagine my life without you, which, frankly, scares me to death. And I hate being scared, damn it! I just hate—”

  He cut her off, covering her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, tenderly, as if he wanted to take away her fear and her doubts and savor only the admission that she loved him. She clung to him, their bodies melting together on the edge of the ferry, close to where they’d first met. The craft might have started moving, or they might still be at the dock. She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She’d given him the truth, and she’d admitted it to herself.

  He was a man she could trust with every ounce of herself, heart, mind and body.

  He ended the kiss to whisper, “I love you. I’m crazy, wildly, madly in love with you.”

  She couldn’t help smiling, even as tears pricked her eyes again. So strange to be such a weepy woman after all these years of stoicism. So strange to be smiling after so much confusion.

  How could she not smile, though? Mike loved her. Really loved her. This hadn’t been just a fling for him, any more than it had been for her. She felt as though someone had given her a precious gift, one she’d protect and cherish for as long as she lived.

  He lifted his hand and brushed a tear off her cheek with the tip of his finger. “I love the strong, independent, powerful you. I would never want you to change. And if I’ve done anything to make you think I don’t love that wonderful part of you, please feel free to slap me.”

  “Never.”

  “I think you’re utterly magnificent, Lindsey Smith, and I can’t imagine spending my life with any other woman in the world.”

  “Really?” she whispered, reminding herself of something she’d always told her patients—it’s great to be self-reliant. But when you find someone who you can really entrust with your body, your soul, your hopes and your dreams, you will only become stronger because of that union.

  “I’ll stay here,” she told him. She couldn’t possibly leave him, not now that she knew he loved her as much as she loved him. “I’ll find a way to work from here, write a book, or travel and do lectures and then come home to you.”

  He hugged her tightly, stroking her back, twining his other hand in her long hair, which was blowing on the evening breeze. “I love the idea of you always coming home to me, but that won’t be necessary.”

  “What do you mean?” Suddenly fearful, she pulled away and looked up at him. “They didn’t fire you, did they?”

  He shook his head. Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, though, he added, “They didn’t have to. I quit.”

  She flinched so hard, she almost stumbled. He grabbed her, preventing her from falling.

  “You’re joking.”

  “Nope. I’m entirely serious. I promised I’d stay for the last several weeks of my probationary period, but after that, I’m gone.”

  “Oh, God, no, Mike. Please tell me you didn’t do this for me. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if you went back to the police force in Chicago.” She gripped the front of his shirt, shaking him. “You will not put your life in danger for me!”

  He shook his head, taking her hands and squeezing them between his. Hers were a little cold, and he rubbed them gently.

  “I’m not going back to the Chicago P.D.”

  “What will you do?” she asked, wondering if both of them were about to be standing in the unemployment line.

  “My cousins want me to go into business with them,” Mike said.

  She gasped, relief filling her from head to toe. “Are you serious?”

  “Very serious.”

  Not even trying to keep the relief out of her voice, she asked, “What kind of business?”

  “Private security,” he explained. “Mark’s leaving the force—Noelle’s had as much as she can stand of it, too. He’s a dad now...he can’t be doing that stuff.”

  She didn’t blame the woman at all. It must be hard to raise children with a man who was at that much risk every day on the job.

  “As for Nick, he’s tired of doing the club thing. But it did give him a lot of private-security experience, plus he has a military background.”

  “It sounds like they’ve got a plan.”

  “A good one. They’ve already got clients lined up. It won’t be the same as being the chief of police in Tinytown, USA, but I won’t be on the streets of Chicago, either. I guess it’s what you’d call a happy medium.”

  That sounded fine to her. In fact, it sounded perfect.

  She wanted him to be happy, wanted him to do what he enjoyed doing. Wanting him safe, however, outweighed everything else.

  “I think the three of us are going to make one hell of a team.”

  “They can be your away team,” she told him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “How about we leave the home team at just two players.”

  He kissed her tenderly, whispering, “I love you so much.”

  “And I love you, sweet man.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and held tight as their kiss went on and on. Lindsey was so relieved, and so blissfully happy, she felt like she could fly.

  Realizing they were at sail, heading toward the other coast, it seemed as though they really were flying. The wind whipped them, the water lapped at the ferry, but this time, there was no dizziness, no unsteadiness.

  She was in Mike’s arms, right where she was meant to be.

  Epilogue

  Seven Months Later

  WAKING UP ON Christmas Eve morning, Lindsey reached across the bed, feeling for Mike, but found his side empty. She frowned, then sniffed, smelling something delicious, and remembered he’d promised to make her breakfast in bed.

  He knew this would be her first real Christmas, and he wanted to make it as perfect as he possibly could. His thoughtfulness, his tenderness, was on display every day.

  As for the nights. Oh, wow, the nights.

  She would never tire of making love with that man. Some nights were lazy and lethargic, others wild and erotic. She found herself enjoying the submissive role quite a lot. What woman wouldn’t want to be forced to stay still and take whatever amazing pleasures her lover wanted to give to her?

  It was something she sometimes discussed with her clients. Now that she was back at work full-time, happily employed by a clinic here
in Chicago that considered her an asset rather than a liability, she found she enjoyed her job much more. Mike’s new business was thriving, the only drawback being they both worked long hours.

  But when they were home, in their cute downtown apartment, they made up for the hours apart in every way possible.

  Smiling, she curled up under the covers, just thinking about all the delicious things they’d done together in this bed the night before.

  She thought, and thought, and thought, and...nothing happened. “Oh, well,” she sighed. Apparently she still needed her man to satisfy her.

  Frankly, though, despite the popularity of the Thinkgasm method, which had really gained traction when the interview she’d done had been picked up by the mainstream, she wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothing could ever compare to being entirely intimate and open—with no walls or barriers—with the man she loved.

  But thinking about him was still very nice.

  So nice that she had a Cheshire-cat smile on her face when Mike walked into the room a few minutes later, carrying a tray.

  “Happy Christmas Eve!”

  She sat up in the bed, smiling at him as he put the tray on her lap. He’d apparently gone all out, because the plate was covered by a giant metal dome, like something out of a restaurant.

  “You’re so good to me.”

  “I hope you like it.”

  “I’m sure it’ll taste delicious.”

  He grimaced. “Well, I’m not sure about that.”

  “You’re a wonderful cook.”

  “Yeah, but I just don’t know if this particular thing is what you want for breakfast. It’s not your average bacon and eggs.”

  Her interest piqued, she reached for the handle on the top of the dome. Mike watched her closely, his eyes dancing with secret amusement, which just increased her curiosity.

  She removed the cover, and had to blink a few times to make sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing.

  “Is that a...”

  “Yes, it is,” he said, joining her on the bed and reaching for the object that sat alone on the white plate.

  It was a ring. A perfect, beautiful ring. Platinum with a large, square-cut emerald, simple and stark, it needed no other stones or adornments to be the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes upon.

  He lifted it, and stared into her face, letting her see the oceans of love he felt for her.

  “Will you marry me, Lindsey?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Oh, yes, I will.”

  He slid the ring onto her left hand then kissed her almost reverently. In midkiss, Lindsey sniffed, her eyes welling up. Damned if Mike hadn’t turned her into an emotional watering can. He could make her cry with delight, with pleasure and with utter, overwhelming tenderness.

  Some analyst might conclude she’d met the man of her dreams and was wildly in love for the first—and last—time of her life.

  And they’d be right.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from SEDUCE ME by Jo Leigh.

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  1

  “OKAY, LADIES.” Shannon Fitzgerald, the founder of the newest dating trend in Manhattan, had her arms up high, holding an open box. “Are you ready?”

  No one answered. In fact, Natalie Gellar was pretty sure no one was even breathing. All twenty-four women in the room were leaning forward, though. Fingers at the ready, hope and anticipation doubling heart rates.

  “On your mark...”

  Five long utility tables had been pushed together into a rectangle on what was anything but a normal Wednesday evening in the St. Marks Church community room.

  “Get set...”

  Natalie stood her ground, shoulder to shoulder with the women around her, determined to do whatever was necessary to get the right card, the perfect card. The Hot Guys Trading Card that would change her life.

  “Go!”

  Shannon tossed the latest batch of cards into the center of the tables and sprinted out of the way.

  As if they were attacking the first Black Friday sale table at Barney’s, everyone went nuts.

  Natalie grabbed whatever cards she could reach, skimming the writing, ignoring the pictures, tossing lawyers and accountants and musicians away like so much litter. Baseball fans, football fans, hockey fans. Ah, a reader, but crap, not the kinds of books she liked. Again and again, the cards were stirred. She heard squeals, disappointed moans, clapping and apologies as people wrestled for the same cards.

  The word librarian made her heart skip a beat, and in the category of Marry, Date or One-Night Stand, his check mark next to Marry made her hands shake. Instead of listing a favorite restaurant, the card said he loved to cook and according to Tracy Jackson, the woman who’d submitted him, he was great at it. His passion was World of Warcraft, which wasn’t her thing but she could totally deal with that. And then, oh, God, the bottom line: looking for a kindred spirit, someone who could be the Lilypad to his Marshmallow!

  The reference to the sappy couple on How I Met Your Mother was the best gift ever. Not just because Natalie liked the show but because anyone who thought of himself in film or television terms was exactly the kind of man she was looking for. This was better than she’d hoped for. By a mile.

  Now, to turn the card over. To see what Max Zimm looked like.

  Her heart pounding after everything she’d read, she tried to calm down. After all, first impressions were as good as meaningless. Most everyone she found beautiful had started out as objectively nothing to write home about, but as she’d gotten to know them, they’d transformed. So even if Max had a handlebar mustache or googly eyes, she didn’t care. At all. It was the inside that mattered, not the packaging.

  After a deep breath, she turned the card over. And nearly fainted.

  The nerdy librarian was a stunner.

  “Who is that?”

  Natalie tore her gaze from the picture of Max Zimm to look at her friend Denise. She’d introduced Natalie to the Trading Cards, bless her. “He’s very good-looking, right?”

  “Very good-looking doesn’t quite cover it. Can I—”

  “No.”

  Denise sighed. “Okay. But why did you pick him?”

  Natalie turned the card over, hoping that she hadn’t had some kind of neurological episode. “Librarian,” she said. “Wants to get married. And he wants a Lilypad to go with his Marshall.”

  Her friend snatched the card out of Natalie’s hand. “No. He. Did. Not. This is someone’s idea of a joke. Oh, my God, who submitted him?” Denise continued to stare at Max Zimm’s picture as she shouted, “Is Tracy Jackson here?”

  Natalie gaped. Denise was the very picture of a demure librarian in her cardigan and cat-eye glasses, even though there was nothing else stereotypical about her. And now Natalie could add “bellows like a longshoreman” to the list of her friend’s abilities.

  No one responded, so Natalie turned her attention back where it belonged. “How could a librarian who looks like him live in Manhattan without us knowing about it?”

  “I don’t know.” Denise shook her head. “Although we haven’t met every one.”

  “But he’d be talked a
bout. He’d go to conferences. We can’t be that many degrees of separation from any librarian in this state. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Denise lifted an arched eyebrow. “It does if he works for a think tank.”

  Natalie chewed on that for a moment. “Huh.”

  “He’s probably some amazing genius who works for a top-secret government agency.”

  “S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Natalie said. “He works for S.H.I.E.L.D.”

  “S.H.I.E.L.D. is fictitious,” Denise said. “He’s not one of the Avengers.”

  Plucking the card back from her drooling pal’s hand, Natalie shrugged. “Then a S.H.I.E.L.D.-like agency. It could happen.”

  “Nat, he’s already got the ability to stun with his looks. What else do you want?”

  “Okay, true. Maybe he’s new to the area. He could have been working anywhere. Europe, even.”

  “Who is that?” Iris Corcoran, a friend who was brand-new to Hot Guys Trading Cards, shouldered her way between Denise and Natalie. “And does he have a twin brother?”

  Natalie just smiled and gripped the card more tightly.

  “I thought you didn’t care about looks,” Iris said.

  “It’s not the front of the card that has me dazzled. It’s the back.”

  Denise snorted.

  “Fine, it’s the front, too, but I would have chosen him anyway, no matter what he looked like.”

  “It sure doesn’t hurt that he could be on the cover of Gorgeous Guy Monthly,” Iris quipped.

  “He may look like a movie star, but don’t let it go to your head. There are all kinds of guys here.” Denise held up the card she’d picked. The man was pleasant-looking, slightly balding, with a very nice smile. “He plays the clarinet for the American Symphony Orchestra.”

  “He’s cute,” Iris said. “Frankly, I’m just thrilled that every single guy on a card has been personally submitted by someone in the group.”

  “I know, right?” For Natalie, the trading cards were truly a godsend, especially for a woman like her, who wasn’t gorgeous, cared more about her work than her social life and tended to be a homebody. “Now that Oliver’s out of the picture—”