He’d been there, and he’d done more than kiss away her hurts, she acknowledged silently. After her breakup with Brian, he’d driven the hurt right out of her mind. At the airport, he’d wiped away a good measure of her terror and trauma by the simple act of acknowledging her as part of his team.
Along the way, Sheryl thought with an inner smile, he’d also taken her to dizzying heights of pleasure that she’d never dreamed of, let alone experienced. She craved the feel of his hands on her breasts, ached for the brush of his prickly mustache against her skin. She longed to curl up with him on the couch and share a pepperoni-and-pineapple pizza, and watch his face when he bit into one of New Mexico’s man-sized peppers.
In short, she wanted whatever moments they could snatch and memories they could make together. Everyone else might count their time together in hours, but Sheryl measured it by the clinging, stubborn love that had taken root in her heart and refused to let go.
Her mother sighed again. “You’re going to wait for this man, aren’t you? Night after night, week after week?”
“Yes, I am.”
Joan lifted a hand and rested a palm against her daughter’s cheek. “You’re stronger than I was, Sherrie. You’ll...you’ll make it work.”
She hoped so. She sincerely hoped so.
“Come on, Mom. Let’s get back to the party.”
Despite her conviction that Harry was worth waiting for, Sheryl found the wait more difficult than she’d let on to her mother. The hours seemed to stretch endlessly. Thankfully, she had her job to keep her busy during the day and Button to share her nights.
According to Ev Sloan, she could expect to have the mutt’s company for some time to come. He called with the news the evening after little Brian’s christening. Just home from work and about to step into the shower, Sheryl ran out of the bathroom and snatched the phone up on the second ring. With some effort, she kept the fierce disappointment from her voice.
“Hi, Ev.”
Clutching the towel she’d thrown around her with one hand, she listened to his gleeful news. Patrice JörgensonlJohnson, aka Inga Gunderson, cut a deal with the federal authorities. In exchange for information about her nephew’s activities, she would plead guilty to a lesser battery of charges that would give her the possibility of parole in a few years.
“We’re transporting her to D.C. Got a plane standing by. She wants to say goodbye to the mutt first.”
“You mean, like, now? Over the phone?”
“Yeah.”
The note of disgust in Ev’s voice told Sheryl he hadn’t quite recovered from his initial bout with Button, when the dog had locked onto his leg.
“I’ll, er, put him on.”
Perching on the side of the bed, she prodded the sleeping dog awake. At the sound of his mistress’s voice, he yipped into the phone once or twice before curling back into a ball and leaving Sheryl to finish the conversation. Somehow, she found herself promising to write faithfully and keep the older woman apprised of Button’s health and welfare.
Sniffing, Inga provided a list of absolute essentials. “He takes B-12 and vitamin E twice a week. His vet can supply you with the coated tablets. They’re easier for him to swallow. And don’t forget his heartworm pills.”
“How could I forget those?” Sheryl countered with a grimace.
“Make sure you keep his hair out of his eyes to prevent irritation of the lids.”
“I will.”
“Don’t use rubber bands, though! They pull his hair.”
“I won’t.”
“Oh, I canceled his standing appointment at the stud. You’ll have to call them back and reinstate him.”
“Excuse me?”
“Button’s descended from a line of champions,” Inga explained in a teary, quavering voice so different from the one that had shouted obscenities at Harry and Ev that her listener found it hard to believe she was the same woman. “We could charge outrageous stud fees if we wanted to, you know, but we just go there so my precious can, well, enjoy himself.”
Sheryl blinked. She hadn’t realized her responsibilities would include pimping for Button. She was still dealing with that mind-boggling revelation when Inga sniffed.
“He’s very virile. They always offer me pick of the litter.” She paused. “You may keep one of his pups in exchange for taking care of him. Or perhaps two, since you work and a pet shouldn’t be left alone all day.”
“Th-thank you.”
Underwhelmed by the magnanimous offer, Sheryl glanced at the tight black-and-white ball on her bed. She could just imagine Harry’s reaction if two or three Buttons crawled under the covers with him in the middle of the night.
Assuming Harry ever got back to Albuquerque to get under the covers.
Sighing, she copied down the last of Inga’s instructions, held the phone to the dog’s ear a final time and hung up. She stood beside the bed for a moment, staring down into her companion’s buggy black eyes.
“What do you say, fella? Wanna share a pizza after I get out of the shower?”
Chapter 15
The glossy postcard leaped out at Sheryl from the sheaf of mail in her hand.
Tahiti.
A pristine stretch of sandy beach. A fringe of deepgreen banyan trees. An aquamarine sea laced with white, lapping at the shore.
Resolutely, she fought down the urge to turn the postcard over and peek at the message on the back. She’d had enough vicarious adventures as a result of reading other people’s mail to last her a while.
She won the brief struggle, but still couldn’t bring herself to shove the card in the waiting post office box. For just a moment, she indulged a private fantasy and imagined herself on that empty stretch of beach with Harry. She saw him splashing toward her in the surf. The sun bronzed his lean, hard body. The breeze off the sea ruffled his dark hair. His gold-flecked eyes gleamed with—
“You okay, Sher?”
“What?” Startled out of the South Pacific, she glanced up guiltily to meet Elise’s look. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“You’re thinking about the marshal again, aren’t you? You’ve got that...that lost look on your face.”
Sheryl flashed the postcard at her friend. “I was thinking about Tahiti.”
Elise pursed her lips.
“All right, all right. I was thinking about Tahiti and Harry.”
Nudging aside a stack of mail, the new mom cleared a space on the table between the banks of postal boxes and hitched a hip on the corner. She’d insisted on coming back to work, declaring that her ex-mother-in-law, her parents, her two boys and her regular baby-sitter were more than enough to care for the newest addition to the Hart family. She still hadn’t fully regained the endurance required for postal work, though. Sheryl scooped up her bundle and added it to the stack in her hand.
“How long has it been now since Harry left?” Elise demanded as her friend fired the mail into the appropriate boxes. “A week? Eight days?”
“Nine, but who’s counting?”
“You are! I am! Everyone in the post office is.”
“Well, you can stop counting. He promised he’d come back. He will.”
“Oh, Sher, he said he’d come back after the arraignment last week. Then he had to fly to Miami. I hate for you to...”
Buck Aguilar rumbled by with a full cart, drowning out the rest of her comment. Sheryl didn’t need to hear it. The worry in her eyes spoke its own language.
“He’ll be back, Elise. He promised.”
“I believe you,” the other woman grumbled. “I just don’t like seeing you jump every time the phone rings, or spending your evenings walking that obnoxious little hair ball.”
“Give Button time,” Sheryl replied, laughing. “He grows on you.”
“Ha! That’ll be the day. He almost took off my hand at the wrist when I made the mistake of reaching for the baby before Butty-boo was finished checking him out. Here, give me the last stack. I’ll finish it.”
“I’ve got it.
You just sit and gather your strength for the hordes waiting in the lobby. We have to open in a few minutes.”
Elise swung her sneakered foot, a small frown etched on her brow. Sheryl smiled to herself. Her friend still couldn’t quite believe that she would prefer the marshal—or anyone else!—over Brian Mitchell. Despite the long talk the two women had shared, Elise had yet to work through her own feelings of guilt and secret longing,
She would. After watching her and Brian together, Sheryl didn’t doubt that they’d soon reach the point she herself had come to this past week. They were meant for each other. Just as she and Harry were.
She’d wait for him. However long it took. Wherever his job sent him. She wasn’t her mother, and Harry certainly wasn’t her father. They’d wring every particle of happiness out of their time together and look forward to their next reunion with the same delicious anticipation that curled in Sheryl’s tummy now.
After zinging the last of the box mail into its slot, she slammed the metal door. “Come on, kiddo. We’d better get our cash drawers from the safe. We’ve only got...”
She glanced at the clock in the central work space and felt her heart sommersault. Striding through the maze of filled mail carts was a tall, unmistakable figure in tight jeans, a blue cotton shirt and a rumpled linen gray sport coat.
“Harry!”
Sheryl flew toward him, scattering letters and advertising fliers and postcards as she went. He caught her up in his arms and whirled her around. The room had barely stopped spinning before he bent his head and covered her mouth with his. Instantly, the whole room tilted crazily again.
Flinging her arms around his neck, she drank in his kiss. It was better than she remembered. Wild. Hot. Hungry. When he lifted his head, she dragged in great, gulping breaths and let the questions tumble out.
“When did you get in? Why didn’t you call? What happened in Miami?”
Grinning, he kissed her again, much to the interest of the various personnel who stopped their work to watch.
“Twenty minutes ago. I didn’t want to take the time. And we nailed the arms manufacturer Gunderson was supplying.”
“Good!”
Laughing at her fierce exclamation, he hefted her higher in his arms and started for the back door.
“Wait a minute!” Sheryl was more than willing to let him carry her right out of the post office, but she needed to cover her station. “I’ve got to get someone to take the front counter for me.”
“It’s all arranged,” he told her, his eyes gleaming.
“What is?”
“The postmaster general got a call from the attorney general early this morning, Miss Hancock. You’re being recommended for a citation for your part in apprehending an escaped fugitive and suspected killer.” The gleam deepened to a wicked glint. “You’ve also been granted the leave you requested. There’s a temp on the way down to fill in for you.”
“I seem to be having some trouble recalling the fact that I asked for leave.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised, with all you’ve gone through lately.” Harry wove his way through the carriers’ stations. “You asked for two weeks for your honeymoon.”
Sheryl opened her mouth, shut it, opened it again. A thousand questions whirled around in her head. Only one squeaked out.
“Two weeks, huh?”
“Two weeks,” he confirmed. “Unless you don’t have a current passport, in which case we’ll have to tack on a few extra days so we can stop over in Washington to pull some strings.”
He slowed, his grin softening to a smile so full of tenderness that Sheryl’s throat closed.
“I want to take you to Heidelburg, sweetheart, and stand beside you on the castle ramparts when the Neckar River turns gold in the sunset. I want to watch your face the first time you see the spires of Notre Dame rising out of the morning mists. I want to make love to you in France and Italy and Germany and wherever else we happen to stop for an hour or a day or a night.”
“Oh, Harry.”
He eased his arm from under her knees. Sheryl’s feet slid to the floor, but she didn’t feel the black tiles under her sneakers. Not with Harry’s hands locked loosely around her waist and his heart thumping steadily against hers.
“I know you said it was too soon for commitments and promises, but I’ve had a lot of time to think this past week.”
“Me, too,” she breathed.
“I don’t want almost, Sheryl. I want you now and forever.”
He brushed back her hair with one hand. All trace of amusement left his eyes.
“The regional director’s position here in the Albuquerque office comes open next month. The folks in D.C. tell me the job’s mine if I want it.”
Her pounding pulse stilled. She wanted Harry, as much as he wanted her. But she wouldn’t try to hold him with either tears or a love that strangled.
“Do you want it, Harry?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I do. It’ll mean less time on the road, although I can’t guarantee I’ll have anything resembling regular office hours or we’ll enjoy a routine home life.”
Sheryl could have told him that she’d learned her lesson with Brian. On her list of top-ten priorities, a comfortable routine now ranked about number twenty-five. All that mattered, all she cared about, was the way his touch made her blood sing, and the crinkly lines at the corners of his eyes, and his soft, silky mustache and...
“I’m a deputy marshal,” he said quietly. “The service is in my blood.”
“I know.”
“So are you. I carried your smile and your sun-streaked hair and your little moans of delight with me day and night for the past week. I love you, Sheryl. I want to live the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me, and take you to all the places you dreamed about.”
A sigh drifted on the air behind her. She didn’t even glance around. She didn’t care how many of her co-workers had gathered to hear Harry’s soft declaration. One corner of his mustache tipped up.
“I thought about buying a ring and getting down on one knee and doing the whole romantic bit,” he told her ruefully, “but I don’t want to waste our time with almost-anythings. I want to go right for the real thing. Right here. Right now.”
He would, she thought with a smile.
“There’s a judge waiting for us at the federal building,” he said gruffly. “He’ll do the deed as soon as we get the license.”
An indignant sputter sounded just behind Sheryl. Elise protested vehemently. “You have to call your mother, Sher! At least give her time to drive up from Las Cruces!”
“The judge will do the deed as soon as your mother gets here,” Harry amended gravely, holding her gaze with his own.
Someone else spoke up. Pat Martinez, Sheryl thought.
“Hey, we want to be there, too! Wait until the shift change this afternoon. We’ll shred up all that mail languishing in the dead-letter bin and come down to the courthouse armed with champagne and confetti.”
“Champagne and confetti sounds good to me.” Harry smiled down at her. “Well?”
“I love you, too,” she told him mistily. “I’ll have you, Marshal, right here, right now and for the rest of our lives.”
Stretching up on her tiptoes, she slid her arms around his neck. He bent his head, and his mouth was only a breath away from hers when she murmured, “There’s only one problem. We’ll have to take Button with us on this honeymoon. Unless you know someone who will take care of him while we’re gone?” she asked hopefully.
“You’re kidding, right?”
When she shook her head, he closed his eyes. Sheryl closed her ears to his muttered imprecations. When he opened them again, she saw a look of wry resignation in their golden brown depths.
“All right. We’ll pick up a doggie-rat carrier on our way to the airport.”
At that moment, she knew she’d never settle for almost-anything again.
ISBN : 978-1-4592-6566-0
RETURN TO SENDER
Copyri
ght © 1998 by Merline Lovelace
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
“Me?”
Letter to Reader
Also by
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Copyright
Return To Sender Page 19