by Meg Benjamin
Cursing to himself, he pushed through the crowd again. Behind him, Frankie Belasco and his band were playing something with a beat that resonated through the ground. Erik heard a roar that meant Felix Burton must have done something particularly popular.
He reached the entrance and started across the pavilion. A small cluster of tourists still hung around in front of the tables, drinking wine and talking to the pourers. Erik headed toward the Cedar Creek banner.
Kit Maldonado was pouring again. She looked up and grinned. “Out back, Chief.” She nodded toward an opening between the booths.
He pushed the canvas aside and ducked through.
Morgan was perched on a picnic table three feet away. Her expression still looked faintly perplexed. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself.” Erik nodded toward her outfit. “You look like a gypsy.” A really sexy gypsy. He pushed himself up beside her on the table.
“I’m sort of a Texas gypsy, I guess.” She shook her head. “I just wanted to look like a girl. I haven’t worn anything except jeans in so long I wanted to make sure I still knew how to wear a skirt.” She looked away from him, staring down at the asphalt parking lot.
“You still know how.” His voice sounded rusty again. He cleared his throat. “You heard about Pittman?”
She nodded. “So what’s the verdict? Is he in or out?”
“The smart money’s on out.”
A smile quivered around the corners of her mouth. “Congratulations.” She raised her gaze to his, great chocolate eyes pulling him into their depths. He felt an arrow of heat to his groin.
“What about you, the winery?”
“Looks like Bored Ducks is a hit. Dad’s going to discuss marketing with me next week, god help me.”
He nodded. “Congratulations to you, then. So you’re staying at Cedar Creek?” He studied the smooth line of her throat, trying not to hold his breath.
“Yep. I like it in Konigsburg.”
“Good.” He drew a steadying breath. One problem taken care of.
His brain spun through a series of possibilities, trying to come up with the right set of words. Want to have a drink in the evenings at the Dew Drop? Want to meet me after I get off this afternoon—and tomorrow afternoon and the afternoon after that? Want to try living together? Want to spend your life with me? The words felt like sawdust in his mouth. He’d never been this nervous in his life.
“So where does that leave us?” she murmured. She looked back at him again, eyes wide.
Brown curls spilled down onto her shoulders, shadowing her ears. He realized suddenly her earrings were stars, thin chains of twinkling stars raining down from her earlobes.
“Want to hang out?” he asked, his breath lodging uncomfortably in his throat. “I mean sort of permanently?”
Which was probably the dumbest thing he’d said in his entire life!
The furrow reappeared between her eyes as she stared at him. Then she grinned, lifting the hair from her neck, sending a spray of starshine shimmering from her earrings. “That sounds good.”
His breath left his body in a rush. “Glad to hear it.” He nodded. “Can I have Arthur?”
Her forehead crinkled. “Do you want Arthur?”
He nodded again. “Yeah, he’s a great cat. He seems okay in my apartment.”
She grinned up at him, eyes dancing. “Then you can have him.” Her grin faded slightly. “Of course, that’s another interesting problem—where I’m going to live now. I can’t stay in the winery apartment.”
“Why not?” He reached out to pull one of the corkscrew curls. He loved to watch them spring back.
She shook her head. “Dad’s going to be staying there off and on, now that he’s coming back to work part-time. I’ll need to find a new place.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “Arthur could use a live-in sitter.”
Her brow furrowed again. “Cat-sitter? Interesting professional possibility, but not exactly the career path I was thinking of pursuing.”
“I could use a live-in sitter, too.” He winced. This was his day for absolutely moronic statements. “I’m trying to ask you to move in with me, but I’m doing a lousy job of it.”
She grinned, her stars shimmering. “You’re not doing so badly. It’s working, believe me.”
On the other side of the pavilion a roar went up from the crowd. “Hell,” he muttered, “what are they doing now?”
“Nothing serious.” She turned toward the sound. “It’s just Felix. He gets a little more outrageous every time he does this. He might be leading a group striptease this year. You really ought to go out there and watch.”
“Come with me?” He reached to entwine his fingers with hers.
She nodded, gazing up at him beneath thick brown lashes. “If you’ll dance with me.”
He shrugged. “I’ll give it a whirl. I’m not much of a dancer, though.”
“With Frankie, everybody dances, trust me.”
Erik stood up, tugging her to her feet, and then because he couldn’t help himself, he bent down to kiss her, opening his mouth against hers, running the tip of his tongue along her full lower lip.
She pressed her body against him, and he felt soft, braless breasts against his chest. He raised his hand to cup her, touching fullness and weight through the thin cotton, her nipple hard against his palm.
She purred against his lips and he leaned in farther, his hand sliding beneath the edge of her blouse.
Morgan pulled back slightly, her eyes alight. “This isn’t exactly private, Chief.”
He raised his head to see a couple of kitchen workers pausing to watch them. He gave them his best “move along” stare, and they went back to wrestling a large trash can toward the street.
She giggled. “Oh very good. I can see dating the police chief is going to be lots of fun.”
He dropped his mouth to her throat running his tongue down until he nibbled on her collarbone as he’d been longing to do for at least the last half hour. Then he raised his head to look at her again. “Bambi, believe me, we are way beyond dating at this point.”
“If we’re not dating, what are we doing exactly?” She ran her fingertip along his lower lip.
He grinned at her. “We’re going to live together, Bambi. We’re in love. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
Her lips spread in a smile, the furrow between her brows disappearing. “Yeah. I had figured that out, believe me. Living together works for me.”
He took a deep breath. “Me, too.”
“You still haven’t told me—why am I Bambi?”
He shook his head. “You just are. Come on, Bambi, let’s dance.”
Morgan glanced at the dance floor. Frankie had them all on their feet again, as usual. The dance line still snaked around the edges of the crowd—Felix Burton didn’t even look winded. His wife, Arleta, sat on the far side of the pavilion with a large glass of red wine, regarding Felix with jaundiced eyes. She’d probably given up trying to rein him in by now.
Morgan’s parents sat on lawn chairs in the shade. Her father had a bottle of Bored Ducks open in front of him. He was sniffing it carefully. Her mother took it out of his hand and poured herself a healthy glassful, then raised it in Morgan’s general direction, grinning happily.
On the stage, the fiddle player ran through a familiar scale and everyone cheered. Frankie swung into “Jolie Blonde”, bellowing the lyrics into his microphone.
Across the floor, Docia and Cal tried a swoop, which managed to clear a wide path on either side. Wonder and Allie twirled behind them, Allie in her bright red chef’s pants with the green chilies running down the sides. Jess Toleffson clapped from the sidelines, while Lars pursued their giggling son toward the kids’ pavilion.
The crowd ebbed and flowed around them. On the grassy lawn nearby, Andy Wells, the TCEQ investigator, stood next to an elderly woman in a walker. As Frankie’s accordion trilled in the background, she began to move back and forth gracefully, resting the tips
of her fingers on the walker’s metal frame. The elderly lady swayed in time to the music, moving along with Andy and smiling.
Morgan shook her head. Konigsburg.
She felt a hand on her elbow and looked back. Janie smiled at her, as she pulled Pete toward the dance floor. “We have these family dinners on Fridays sometimes. Can you come over next week?”
Morgan glanced at Erik, currently muttering instructions to Nando. “Sure. I guess that’s okay.”
Janie’s grin widened. “Oh, it’s okay, believe me.” She pulled on Pete’s arm again to herd him toward the dance floor.
Erik held out his hand. “Shall we?”
“Oh yes,” Morgan murmured. “We definitely shall.”
She slid into his arms, moving with him to the music. People swirled around them like water around a stone, but she was safe and warm in his embrace.
“Jolie blonde,” Frankie sang, “ma chere ’tit fille.”
Erik sighed against her ear, executing a gentle turn. “Thank god everything has finally settled down.”
Morgan snuggled more tightly against him, humming along with Frankie.
“Erik!” Cal’s voice behind them sounded panicky.
Erik closed his eyes for a moment, then turned. “What’s up?”
“Docia’s water just broke. I’ll never be able to get the SUV through the traffic. Could you… Is there any way you could…”
Morgan glanced at Cal. Docia was half-supported against his shoulder. She looked as if she was concentrating very hard on breathing. As Morgan watched, she took several deep breaths and blew them out in a series of quick pants. Uh-oh.
Erik sighed. “Come on. We’ll take the cruiser.” He turned back toward Morgan, his smile rueful. “Sorry about this. Raincheck, Bambi?”
Morgan’s throat was tight all of a sudden. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. They’re your family, Erik. They need you.”
Docia glanced at her, eyes wide. “What time is it? Was anybody checking on how long it was between those last two contractions?”
Cal gave her a look of absolute panic. “What? No, I forgot. Erik, can we get going now?”
“Sure.” Erik began to move resolutely through the crowd, clearing a path for the clutch of Toleffsons—Cal, Docia, Pete and Janie—bobbing along behind him.
“Lars said he’d meet you at the hospital,” Janie called, “after he takes Jess and the kids home.”
All around them Konigsburg citizens began to gather, pushing aside the slightly woozy tourists to form a path to the parking lot. “Take Novarro to Main,” someone called. “It’s faster.”
Morgan stepped beside Erik, helping him move through the curious Konigsburgers. “I’ll come with you. You never know—you might need me.”
“Always, Bambi.” He glanced down at her, smiling again. “Always.”
Morgan’s heart gave a mighty thump. She was pretty sure she was smiling her idiot grin once again. Ah well, it might be a permanent condition. After a moment, she slid her arm around Erik’s waist, heading toward the cruiser and the future.
About the Author
Meg Benjamin writes about South Texas, although she now lives in Colorado. Her comic romances—Venus in Blue Jeans, Wedding Bell Blues, Be My Baby and Long Time Gone, all from Samhain Publishing—are set in the Texas Hill Country in the mythical town of Konigsburg. When she isn’t writing, Meg spends her time listening to Americana music, drinking Colorado and Texas wine, and keeping track of her far-flung family. She recently retired from twenty years of teaching writing, Web design and desktop publishing. To learn more about Meg, please visit www.MegBenjamin.com. Send an email to [email protected] or visit her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/meg.benjamin1, on Twitter at http://twitter.com/megbenj1, or on MySpace at http://www.myspace.com/megbenjamin.
Look for these titles by Meg Benjamin
Now Available:
Konigsburg, Texas
Venus in Blue Jeans
Wedding Bell Blues
Be My Baby
There’s no room in her life for love. Love has other ideas…
Be My Baby
© 2009 Meg Benjamin
Konigsburg, Texas, Book 3
If Jessamyn Carroll had only herself to consider, staying in Pennsylvania after her husband’s death would have been a no-brainer. Her vindictive in-laws’ efforts to get their hooks into her infant son, however, force her to flee to a new home. Konigsburg, Texas.
Peace…at least for now. She’s even found a way to make some extra money, looking after sexy accountant Lars Toleffson’s precocious two-year-old daughter. She finds it easy—too easy—to let his protective presence lull her into thinking she and her son are safe at last.
Lars, still wounded from enduring a nasty divorce from his cheating ex-wife, tries to fight his attraction to the mysterious, beautiful widow. But when an intruder breaks into her place, and Jess comes clean about her past, all bets are off. Someone wants her baby—and wants Jess out of the picture. Permanently.
Now Jess has a live-in bodyguard, whether she wants him or not. Except she does want him—and he wants her. Yet negotiating a future together will have to overcome a lot of roadblocks: babies, puppies, the entire, meddling Toleffson family—and a kidnapper.
Warning: Contains Konigsburg craziness, creepy in-laws, a conniving two-year-old, a lovelorn accountant, a sleep-deprived Web developer, and lots of hot holiday sex.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Be My Baby:
The thumps came irregularly now, still interspersed with the occasional clang. Lars moved into the room, then pulled up short.
Jess stood next to the sink, her bathrobe pulled tight across her chest. She was leaning forward, trying to see out the kitchen window.
“Jess!” he whispered.
She whirled toward him, her hands over her mouth.
“Sorry.” He stepped beside her. “What do you see?”
“N-nothing,” she stammered. “I don’t know what’s making the noise.”
He put his hand on her shoulder, moving her gently to the side. Beneath his fingers, her skin felt like ice.
Lars peered through the window, but all he could see was blank darkness. The thumping subsided to an occasional clang. “Where’s the backyard light?”
“In there.” Jess turned toward the utility room.
“Okay.” Lars nodded. “Go in there and turn it on. I’ll stay here and see if I can tell what’s happening.”
Jess stepped down into the utility room. A moment later, he heard the click of the switch and light flooded the backyard.
Two raccoons stared up at the window from the side of the house, blinking. Jess’s bird feeder lay on the ground between them. After a moment, they lumbered into the trees. Lars stood watching their furry brown rumps disappear into the cedar brush.
“What is it,” Jess whispered.
He turned to look at her. She stood in the doorway, her arms wrapped around her waist, her face pale in the moonlight. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like her lips were trembling.
“Raccoons. They knocked down your bird feeder. It must have thumped against the house when they were trying to tip it over.”
“Oh.” She pressed a hand to her mouth. Lars watched as her chin began to wobble. “Oh, god,” she whispered, bending forward at the waist. Her shoulders began to heave as she gasped for breath.
He stepped toward her quickly and pulled her into his arms, running his hand in circles against her back. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay, Jess. Just raccoons. Don’t worry. Everything’s all right.”
Jess’s words were jumbled together with sobs. “I was so scared.” Gasp. “I thought he’d come back.” Gasp. “I thought he’d get in.”
“Jess.” He worked on keeping his voice level. “Jess, listen to me. You’re all right. Everything is all right. It was just raccoons. Here.” He pushed her gently to the window. “Look. Your bird feeder is on the ground. They knocked it over to get at the seed.”
Jess looked through the glass and then turned back to him, her eyes still brimming. Gasping for breath between the sobs, she pressed her face against his chest again.
His bare chest. He was suddenly aware of warm breath, warm skin, the smell of her hair—rosemary and mint. His heart beat accelerated.
Go. Leave. Now. Back to your bedroom. Do not put your arms around her!
His body was apparently unconnected to his brain. His hands drifted toward her hips, almost automatically. He felt the smooth indentation of her waist beneath his palms.
“I just…give me a minute,” she whispered. “It’s just reaction.” She kept her face pressed against his chest, and he felt tears on his skin.
“It’s okay,” he repeated. Then he brought his hand to her chin, tipping her face back so that he could see her eyes.
The color of moss, of sea foam, of the leaves on the mountain laurel in his backyard. Jess watched him, blinking, her lips slightly parted as she drew another sobbing breath. Her nose looked damp. One leftover tear left a track down her cheek.
She was a mess. Also the most gorgeous woman he’d seen in at least a year, bar none.
Well, hell. He lowered his mouth to hers.
A jumble of sensations washed over him, the salt on her lips, the smell of rosemary and mint, the softness and warmth of her mouth. For a moment, her body tensed in his arms, and then her lips opened beneath his, as her tongue darted across his teeth.
Lars shifted against her, angling his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss. His tongue moved, rasping against hers.
Oh lordy, he hadn’t done this in so long. And those last few times with Sherice hadn’t been anything he ever wanted to repeat. He hoped to god he remembered how to do it right.
Jess’s hands moved up his chest, her fingers sliding through his chest hair to clasp around his neck. She pulled herself flat against him as he bent over her, bodies touching now from shoulders to crotch.
Crotch. Right. He could feel his arousal pressing against the thin fabric of his sweatpants.
Jess rubbed herself against him again, the smooth satin of her robe sliding over his skin. Without thinking, he reached for the sash at her waist, pulling it free, then pushed her robe down off her shoulders. Underneath she was wearing a sleep shirt and nothing else.