A Perfect Fit

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A Perfect Fit Page 23

by Sherrie Eddington


  Lotus strained against the sheriff’s hold, looking frightened and desperate. “I can explain!”

  Alex shrugged. “Explain to the sheriff—and the judge.” His gaze met Brooke’s. “And you might want to also explain how that shipment of condoms found its way into Brooke’s house.”

  “She stole them!” Lotus screamed, unwilling to give up. His face turned an alarming shade of purple. Alex clucked his tongue.

  “I think not. You see, Brooke was gracious enough to let me stay at her cabin, and she’s been keeping me company this past week and a half. She’s hardly been out of my sight.”

  “You’ve—you’ve been here, in Quicksilver, all along?” Lotus squeaked. His lip curled as he looked at Brooke. “And you’ve been shacking up with him? How convenient.”

  Brooke was so very glad Elijah was close enough to halt Alex’s involuntary move toward Lotus.

  “You’re in enough trouble, Lotus,” Alex growled. “One more slur against Brooke and you’ll be nursing a broken jaw.”

  “Or two,” Sheriff Snider added ominously. “Now come along peacefully.”

  Lotus resisted. “I have the right to call—”

  “You can call your damned lawyer when we get to the station.” He yanked Lotus to the door, then turned to pin Brandy with a hard look. “You’d better come along, too, little lady. From what I hear, you were doing more than just following orders.”

  Brandy surprised Brooke by following docilely, leaving Brooke, Alex, and Elijah alone in the room. Elijah cleared his throat, glancing between the two.

  “Guess I should be gettin’ along, then.”

  Alex stepped forward and grasped Elijah’s hand, his smile warm. “Thanks for your help. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Elijah flushed at his praise and ducked his head shyly. “You’re just trying to make an old man feel useful, and don’t think I don’t know it.” He jerked his head in Brooke’s direction. “Brooklyn here’s the one you should be thanking.”

  “Oh, I plan to,” Alex drawled softly, and with a hidden promise that made Brooke shiver.

  Staunchly, Brooke reminded herself of how Alex had lied and tricked her. A man who could act so ruthlessly couldn’t be trusted, and she was nobody’s fool. So when Elijah made to leave, she had every intention of following him.

  Alex had other ideas. He caught her arm and held her until Elijah disappeared through the door.

  “I’ve got to go back to Amarillo to start the recall proceedings on the defective condoms.”

  Her heart twisted painfully, but she managed a careless shrug. “It’s your job, isn’t it?” And his home. Not here, in Quicksilver, but hundreds of miles away in Amarillo.

  “I’m coming back.”

  Again, Brooke chose to misunderstand him. She decided it was much safer that way. “I suppose you’ll have to, won’t you? You’ll need to find a replacement for Lotus.” It would be a cold day in hell before she’d remind him that he’d practically promised her the position.

  “Brooke—” He paused and rifled his fingers through his hair as if searching for the right words. “I know you’re probably angry because I lied to you, but....”

  Brooke widened her eyes in feigned surprise, her sarcasm as lethal as a snake bite. “Angry? Why would I be angry? After all, I had the time of my life, and because of your generous, caring therapy, I’m cured.” She pulled free and spread her arms wide. “See? I don’t have the slightest urge to break anything.” It was true, too, but something was already breaking without her help: her heart.

  Her smile felt brittle. “Besides, Alex, I’d be a hypocrite if I said I didn’t enjoy the fantastic sex. You know, I think Lotus was right. I did have a hang-up about sex, but you cured me of that, too. Now I can enjoy a healthy, normal sex life—”

  His mouth stopped her taunting words. He kissed her long and hard, long enough to weaken her resistance and hard enough to almost make her forget her anger.

  Almost. But not quite.

  With a regretful moan she failed to stifle, she pulled free. The regret seeped into her husky voice. “You don’t owe me anything, Alex. Not an explanation, not a commitment, not even a job. I helped you because the people who work at this factory are my friends, and I had sex with you because I wanted to. You didn’t have to stoop to frightening me with threats.”

  “We didn’t have sex, and you wouldn’t have stayed.”

  Brooke ignored his first statement, and considered his second. Finally, she shrugged. “Maybe I wouldn’t have stayed at first...but I think I would have come back.”

  Alex lifted his hand as if to touch her face, but when she flinched, he let it fall to his side. His eyes were a steady, piercing blue. “I guess I didn’t want to take that chance.”

  “Because you needed help in the investigation,” she stated dully.

  “No, dammit—”

  The muffled ringing of his cell phone interrupted his passionate denial. With a four-letter oath, he reached into his boot and snatched it out.

  As he barked into the phone, Brooke took the opportunity to escape. Why stay and torture herself? Alex obviously felt obligated, and it wasn’t obligation she needed or wanted from Alex.

  She’d just stepped through the door when the urgent sound of his voice stopped her.

  “I’ll be back in a few days. Meet me at the cabin.”

  With a heavy heart, Brooke ignored him and continued on.

  ****

  The cabin needed a good cleaning. It had been months since she’d had the time, and the long weekend stretched ahead of her. When Dee and Cliff returned from their honeymoon, it would make a perfect retreat for the newlyweds.

  Going there had nothing to do with Alex’s promise to return, she told herself as she loaded the Pinto with cleaning supplies, light bulbs, and fresh linens.

  She wouldn’t look for him, wouldn’t expect him to show, would not get her hopes up. Alex had been trying to be kind, and that was all. His life was in Amarillo, and hers was in Quicksilver. Yes, they’d had a great time, but she wasn’t a gullible, love-struck teenager who believed that just because a man made love to a woman it meant that he loved her.

  Made love.

  Brooke made the turn onto the dirt road leading to the cabin, mulling over her choice of words. To be honest, she had to admit that Alex was right—at least on her part. They had made love, beautiful, mind-blowing, tender love.

  Not sex, but love.

  Okay, so Alex was a considerate lover. He’d probably had plenty of experience—unlike herself—and knew that a woman enjoyed sex more when she believed the man cared about her. Even when she had insisted she wanted it down and dirty, he hadn’t believed her.

  And he’d been right on the nose.

  She’d only been trying to keep her long-buried emotions where they hurt the least: stuffed deep into her heart. A soft, sappy smile spread over her face as she remembered his tender care in helping her face those tragic, painful emotions. The way he’d held her and seemed to hurt with her.

  Brooke quickly wiped the smile from her face and set her lips in a determined line. After she’d gotten to know him, she’d come to realize he wasn’t the jerk everyone—including herself—thought him to be. No denying that he was a gem among men.

  But that didn’t mean he loved her.

  She’d come closer to believing that he felt guilty, thinking that she might have fallen in love with him. Yes, that was probably what he thought.

  The possibility made her face burn with humiliation. Surely she hadn’t been that obvious? Because she was in love with him, totally, helplessly in love with him.

  The cabin came into sight. Brooke parked in her usual spot and cut the engine. She listened to the soothing quiet of the surrounding woods, comparing it to the noisy sounds of town life.

  Maybe she’d sell the house and move to the cabin, she mused. It wasn’t really that long a drive to the factory.

  If she decided to keep her job.

  Ga
thering a sack of supplies from the back seat, she took it inside, unloaded the cleaning products, then returned to the car for the blankets and linen.

  A few yards from the Pinto, she ground to a startled halt, her gaze drifting from one hubcap to another. Slowly, she circled the car, her amazement growing.

  They looked exactly like her old hubcaps, only better. Shinier. Straighter. She stood back and planted her hands on her hips. Had she missed them earlier when she loaded the car? Brooke shook her head, dismissing the idea. No, she wouldn’t have missed them, even as preoccupied as she had been.

  Which meant...

  The creaking of a chair snagged her attention. She glanced up, her gaze widening. Alex sat in the rocker on the porch, looking right at home. He had his long, jean-clad legs stretched out before him, and his booted feet planted on the porch railing.

  He was watching her—intensely.

  The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Her knees started to shake. With a concentrated effort, Brooke forced herself to breath in and out. Slowly. It was just Alex, and it had only been three days since she’d last seen him.

  Three very long days. Three interminable days. Three torturous days.

  He dropped his feet, but remained sitting. “Come here.”

  On shaky legs, Brooke approached the porch. She paused at the bottom step, unable to look away from his compelling gaze. She wanted to tell him that she couldn’t continue their affair, that she just wasn’t cut out for flings without strings.

  His hand beckoned her closer.

  Brooke obeyed. When she reached him, he lifted her up and settled her on his lap, her legs straddling his. Beneath her, she could feel every hard, pulsing inch of him.

  Eyes locked with his, hands braced lightly against his chest, she waited, barely breathing. He splayed his hands on her thighs, and she could feel the potent heat of him right through her jeans.

  “As I was saying,” he began, as if days hadn’t passed since their last conversation. “It wasn’t just your help with the investigation that I needed. I needed you. It wasn’t long before I realized that I love you.”

  Something wild and wonderful bloomed in Brooke’s chest. In response to the joy filling her, she tightened her thighs against his arousal. He caught his breath sharply, a playful warning entering his eyes.

  “Be still, or I won’t be able to finish what I have to say,” he growled.

  Brooke leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, whispering, “Then hurry, will ya?”

  “Okay,” he whispered back, chasing her mouth. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can we have a baby right away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you just saying this to get me to shut up?”

  “Yes.”

  His deep, husky chuckle started an avalanche of ripples along Brooke’s spine. She stopped running from him and let him capture her mouth. The kiss was slow, heated, and filled with expectation. She’d never, ever, tire of kissing him.

  When he pulled away, she muttered a curse and tried to recapture his mouth. He cupped her face in his hands and held her still, his expression serious.

  “I’m buying a new factory in Amarillo,” he said. “I could use your expertise.”

  “Not a condom factory?” Brooke squeaked in dismay.

  Alex grinned. “No, a candy factory.”

  “Now that’s more like it. Chocolate?”

  “You guessed it. So you’ll come with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Brooke...”

  “Hm?”

  “Are you doing that agreeing thing again?”

  “Yes. Can we go inside now?”

  Alex grabbed her hips and held her tight against his rock-hard arousal. “How about here?”

  “Elijah—”

  “I sent him on a little trip...to pick up Daisy.”

  “You found her!” Quickly on the heels of that revelation, Brooke thought of something alarming. She sat straight. “You sent Elijah off in that old truck? He’ll never make it!”

  He shook his head, smiling slightly. “He’s test driving a new Texas Edition Dodge truck.”

  “You didn’t.” But she saw that he had.

  She melted against his chest and placed her lips near his ear. “I love you,” she whispered, her fingers reaching stealthily between them in search of his belt buckle.

  Laughing, he groaned and hugged her close. “You’re a hoot.”

  “Yes.”

  About the author...

  Sheridon Smythe is the writing team of Sherrie Kelley and Donna Smith. Best friends for over thirty years, they have written five historical romances and several contemporary romances under this pseudonym.

  Sherrie lives in central Arkansas and has two children and four grandchildren.

  Donna lives in the boot heel of Missouri and has three children. Her son, Marcus, is currently serving our country.

  The team enjoys brainstorming together and entertaining their readers with stories they hope will stay with the reader long after they reach ‘the end.’

  Thank you for purchasing

  this Wild Rose Press publication.

  For other wonderful stories of romance,

  please visit our on-line bookstore at www.thewildrosepress.com.

  For questions or more information,

  contact us at [email protected].

  The Wild Rose Press

  www.TheWildRosePress.com

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