by Linda Cajio
As his eyes widened at the implication of her words, she wondered what it would be like to have a baby. Matt’s baby. She had a quick mental image of mischievous green eyes set in cherubic faces and little hands reaching for the cookie jar even after being told no.
More Matts to drive her crazy, she thought with wry amusement. From the look of astonishment crossing Matt’s face, he obviously had never considered children. The naïveté of men. It would serve him right if she got the promotion only to take a maternity leave a few months later.
“Of course, that nine-month dividend is up to you, Matt,” she added finally, deciding to ease up on him. “But it is something to consider. Would you like me to cash that check now?”
Matt glared at her, wanting to paddle her bottom then and there for nearly giving him a heart attack. At first he hadn’t been sure what she’d been hinting at. A baby! He realized he hadn’t thought about children before. Then he decided he’d love to see Liz nursing his child and conjured the beautiful scene in his mind. A little girl, maybe, with Liz’s wheat-blond hair and gray eyes. But first he’d give Liz hell for teasing him.
“Nobody move!”
Someone screamed as Matt whipped around in the direction of the shouted order. He immediately faced two men standing in the doorway of the bank. Their faces were covered with stocking masks, and they each waved a large, very dangerous-looking gun in the air.
Acting on a long-forgotten instinct from the past, Matt threw himself against the men.
As he went down in a tangle of arms and legs with the robbers, he made a desperate grab for one of the guns as it skittered across the floor. He scooped it up at the same moment he realized he was practically sitting on one of the crooks.
He shoved the gun’s muzzle into the struggling man’s face and shouted, “Don’t move!”
The robber stilled instantly, his harsh breathing the only noise he made. As Matt stared down at the man, he became aware of more struggling. The other crook!
Without taking his gaze off the first he bellowed, “Somebody get the other guy!”
To his complete astonishment it was Liz’s voice that shouted back, “I’m trying.”
He jerked his head up. The customers all seemed frozen in their places. But Liz was half-hanging on to the robber’s back as she savagely clawed his stockinged face with one hand, trying to grab the man’s empty hands with her other one.
Swearing viciously, Matt scrambled to his feet, yanking the first robber with him. He pushed the man against the wall, next to a small knot of people. Then he shoved the gun into the first pair of hands he found. His quick glance told him the hands belonged to Emily Richards.
“Keep an eye on this one!” he ordered her.
Emily suddenly snapped to attention and swung her bulk around to face the robber. She raised the gun to his chest and said, “Move one finger and I’ll blow your head off!”
Matt barely heard her as he raced to Liz’s rescue.
She was still hanging on for dear life as the second crook bucked and spun like a mechanical bronco. Out of the corner of his eye Matt saw several other men beginning to move toward them. He reached the struggling pair first, grabbed hold of the robber’s jacket, and tried to find an opening to throw in a right hook. Liz was in the way.
“Dammit, Liz! I’ve got him!” he shouted when her nails accidentally raked his shoulder.
“He was going to shoot you!” she cried, still clinging to the robber.
“Let go!”
“You heard him, lady! Let go!” the robber shouted. “Oowww! My eye!”
“Serves you right, you creep!” Liz shouted back, beginning to pound on the robber’s head. “You would have shot Matt!”
“Not me, lady!”
Matt finally gave up trying to separate the robber from Liz. Better to separate Liz from the robber before she beat the guy to death, he thought as he grabbed at her hands. He missed and received a wild fist in the eye.
“Dammit! That was me!” he shouted, this time grabbing her around the waist.
He pulled her off the robber, who instantly went down under a pile of men. Holding Liz, he stared in astonishment at the mound of humanity beside them. He suddenly realized that it couldn’t have been more than ninety seconds since the robbers had entered the bank. His muscles relaxed slightly as the adrenaline began to drain out of him.
“Okay, boys, you can let him up now. Georgina, call the state police.”
Matt looked over to Mr. Seaver, who had spoken. The elderly postmaster had a Dirty Harry glint in his eye as he trained the second gun with casual expertise on the robber, who was now pinned spread-eagle to the floor by a quartet of men.
Matt shook his head in disbelief.
Liz suddenly stopped squirming in his arms. She turned and sobbed into his chest. “I love you. I love you.”
“Liz!”
“I don’t care. I don’t care. He was going to kill you.”
He shook her shoulders in a desperate attempt to quiet her. “Liz! Stop it! It’s all over now.”
She clung harder, still sobbing. “I love you, and he was going to kill you.”
“He dropped the gun!”
“He still could have killed you! Oh, Matt!”
Feeling helpless against her tears, Matt raised his head and stared at twenty pairs of bulging eyes. Hell, he thought.
“I guess she’s a little hysterical,” he finally said with a lame shrug.
“Hysterical!” Liz pushed out of his embrace and swiped at the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “Hysterical! You could have been killed, tackling two robbers at once! That had to be the most stupid, the most—”
“Somebody had to stop them before they shot someone!” he shouted, glaring at her. “They would have robbed your precious bank too!”
“The hell with the bank!” she shouted back. “No damn bank, and no damn town, and no damn job is worth losing you, you idiot!”
With a sob she wrapped her arms around him again.
Hell, he thought again in resignation, holding her tightly against him. Everyone started talking at once, but he wasn’t sure whether the attempted robbery or Liz had caused the most excitement. He hoped it was the robbery. With that thought he realized what might have happened if he hadn’t taken the robbers by surprise. Shocked at the idea that he might have lost Liz to a bullet, he suddenly understood her hysteria.
With trembling hands he pressed her closer and murmured, “I love you, Liz. Whatever happens next, always remember that.”
She lifted her tear-streaked face and whispered, “We get married, we have babies. That’s what happens next. Nice peaceful boredom—if you can manage it.”
He chuckled. “Sorry, honey. You’re too exciting.”
“As long as it’s just me. No more heroics, ever. Promise.”
“I wasn’t the one clawing the guy’s eyes out,” he protested with amusement.
“Promise!”
He sighed. “Promise.”
“Excuse me, folks.”
They both glanced up to find Hank Krenshaw, the editor of the Hopewell Bugle smiling at them, a camera in hand. Suddenly there was a bright flash of light.
Matt blinked in confusion at the spots before his eyes.
“I saw the whole thing!” Hank said in an excited voice. “You two are the town heroes! Good thing I’m an old newspaperman and always carry my camera wherever I go. I’m giving this a front-page spread and I’m sending it in to the wire services. I bet we get picked up all over the East Coast, if not the country. I can just see the headlines—Lovers Foil Robbery Attempt!”
Matt stared at Liz in horror.
“We’re public at last!” she gasped, then burst into laughter.
Epilogue
“Town heroes do not pinch other town heroes on their bottoms in public, Matthew Callahan!” Liz said sternly, and shifted in her chair as she sat next to Matt on the makeshift grandstand set up on the town’s common.
“They do if they’
re married, Elizabeth Callahan,” he replied with a sexy smile.
She sighed and clasped his offending hand in hers. “Watch the parade, darling.”
“If you insist, love.”
Staring at his handsome profile as he turned back to watch Hopewell’s Labor Day parade, Liz sighed again. Pride and love for him filled her.
She and Matt had been married a week after the robbery, and the only argument had been over whose house they would live in. Finally she’d settled it by reminding him that he’d have to completely repack and unpack again if they picked her house. To her amusement, Matt had immediately insisted they live in his and rent hers furnished. And she was quite content with the decision. She’d always liked her house, but that was really all it had ever been to her—just a house. Matt, though, had bought his with the thought of building a new life for himself. She’d immediately felt at ease with his home’s blending of old and new. Maybe it was because he’d made her see the old Liz within the new one. And once she’d moved in, she’d discovered how easy it was to give up cigarettes. The days were always too busy, and the loving nights provided their own habit-forming drug.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the 4-H club pass by and remembered how the town had insisted that she and Matt be the guests of honor at the holiday festivities for foiling the robbery attempt at the bank almost a month ago. Talk about the robbery still hadn’t died down, she thought. And it probably never would. It turned out there had been a third robber waiting in a car outside. The police had eventually caught him trying to cross the border into Canada. Joe, her boss, had thought the crooks had somehow gotten hold of the Brinks schedule, but the robbers had admitted they’d decided on her bank because it had seemed like easy pickings. She chuckled to herself. Of course the three hadn’t known Hopewell harbored a crazy man who leaped before he thought. Matt had been hailed a hero by the town, the police, and the bank. So had she.
Everyone, though, seemed to ignore the fact that she couldn’t have cared less about the bank at the time, she thought mirthfully. She’d been terrified only that the second crook would retrieve his gun before someone could stop him and shoot Matt.
Her amusement faded instantly, and she shivered in the warm sunlight. She knew she’d never forget that awful moment for as long as she lived.
“You’re not watching the parade,” Matt said.
“I’ve got something better to watch,” she murmured, leaning toward him. Privately she thought he was much more interesting than the antique cars now passing the reviewing stand.
He chuckled wickedly. “Keep looking at me like that, and we’ll shock the town again right here and now.”
She laughed. “I think they’re unshockable at this point.”
“Probably. First the robbery, then you making a spectacle of yourself—”
“All in the cause of love,” she broke in tartly.
“Then Millie announcing she was allowing the Deerling Foundation to use her farm for underprivileged children.”
Liz tightened her grip on his hand. “I’m so proud of you for that. And what a surprise when Deerling asked you to oversee the project for them!”
Matt grimaced. “Don’t remind me about my being talked into that one. Looks like my retirement’s over.”
“Shame on them, doing that to an old man like you,” Liz murmured.
“Keep it up, and I’ll pinch you again,” he warned her. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. The final shock—the new bank ads.”
Laughing, she shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing my face on TV or in magazines.”
Someone in New England Bank’s promotional department had come up with the idea of using the story of the foiled robbery in their ads. She found it very disconcerting to see a picture of herself with a bold caption underneath that read: “Earn interest with someone who will keep your money safe—bank at New England.”
“It’s a great ad, district manager,” Matt said.
Liz grinned at him. “You know that’s not official yet.”
“Well, I’m just glad you got it,” he replied, gazing at her with love and pride.
She smiled back.
Privately she decided she’d never forget her boss’s face when he eventually discovered that Ford Carson had questioned her age only because he wanted Joe’s opinion of the other managers’ reaction to it. The directors had evidently taken his recommendation of her very seriously from the beginning. Funny how that worked out, she thought. All her original reasons for maintaining a good reputation had been quite valid. Yet in the end, even if she had known she all but had the promotion, she still wouldn’t have cared a damn. Loving Matt and being loved by him in return were too precious to lose.
She heard the high school band strike up their opening number, and clutching Matt’s hand, she pointed across the common to the uniformed musicians.
“Here comes your surprise!”
“What?” he asked in confusion.
“Just watch.”
She waited impatiently through the ragged strains of “The Colonel Bogey March” as the band marched around to the reviewing stand. She’d arranged a little surprise for Matt, and now she hoped it would come off the way she’d planned. She tensed as the band reached the stand and swung into another number.
Matt frowned at her. “That sounds familiar, but I can’t quite—”
“It’s ‘My Guy,’ you nut!” she replied, then hummed a few bars along with the band. “I got them to play it for you.”
“You did? What for?”
“Because I love you. You’re my guy, and from now on I’m going to be talking about you to anyone who will listen.”
“Sweetheart, I—”
She leaned over and kissed him, stopping his words. Finally she whispered against his lips, “I hope you like it.”
“I love it,” he whispered back, and deftly stroked her lips with his tongue. “And I love you.”
“Mmm. By the way, being Hopewell’s new philanthropist, you generously pledged the money for fifty-six new band uniforms.”
His head shot up. “Liz!”
Chuckling, she sat back in her chair.
“I love it when you yell at me,” she said.
And the band played on.
THE EDITOR’S CORNER
Welcome to Loveswept!
We’re delighted to offer you another sizzling e-original next month: From rising romance star Sharon Cullen comes a tale of the fiery passion between a noble naval officer and a female pirate that’s as tempestuous and as unpredictable as the sea. THE NOTORIOUS LADY ANNE is Sharon Cullen’s first historical novel and her debut with Loveswept. Sensual and enticing, this is a book you won’t want to miss.
Also upcoming: Patricia Olney’s irresistible JADE’S GAMBLE, Linda Cajio’s sinfully sexy STRICTLY BUSINESS, and three blazing hot books from Sandra Chastain: A DREAM TO CLING TO, LOVE AND A BLUE-EYED COWBOY, and MAC’S ANGELS: MIDNIGHT FANTASY.
If you love romance … then you’re ready to be Loveswept!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: March brings Ruthie Knox’s scorching ALONG CAME TROUBLE, and some classic you’ll want to read: Patricia Olney’s moving and funny STILL MR. AND MRS., Juliana Garnett’s compelling and sensual THE BARON, Jean Stone’s exceptional and heartwarming FIRST LOVES, Linda Cajio’s extraordinary UNFORGETTABLE, and beloved author Iris Johansen’s brilliant AN UNEXPECTED SONG. In April, we’re excited about Megan Frampton’s emotional and powerfully erotic tale HERO OF MY HEART, Karen Leabo’s electric HELL ON WHEELS, Linda Cajio’s stirring novels, HE’S SO SHY and DESPERATE MEASURES, and Sandra Chastain’s spellbinding books, NIGHT DREAMS and PENTHOUSE SUITE. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come….
Read on for excerpts from more Loveswept titles …
Read on for an excerpt from Juliet Rosetti’
s
Escape Diaries
The Escape Diaries :
A Guide to Breaking Out of Prison
Escape tip #1:
Be prepared.
Actually I wasn’t prepared at all. I just wanted to go to bed. I was tired and cranky, sweat was puddling between my boobs, and my armpits smelled like sprouting onions. Deodorant cost one ninety-five at the prison canteen, well beyond the means of someone who earned ten cents an hour. Given a choice between M&Ms or Mennen, I’d pick the sweet and live with the stink. Repulsive, yes—but chocolate is what gets you through the day, and no one else smells any better.
If I’d stuck to chocolate, things might have turned out differently. But I had a leftover cough drop from a bout with bronchitis, and when my cellmate, Tina Sanchez, developed a tickly throat, I gave her the cough drop. Just being a pal, right?
Wrong. You’re supposed to return unused medications to the medical director. The staff tracks pharmaceuticals the way the CIA tracks yellow cake in the Middle East. A cellblock officer caught the menthol scent on Tina’s breath and wrote her up for taking a nonprescription drug. Since I was the one who’d dished out the illicit substance, I was written up, too. Along with a bunch of other drug offenders—aspirin pushers, Alka-Seltzer peddlers, and Midol dealers—Tina and I were sentenced to garden detail.
Not exactly the Bataan death march in a suburban peas and petunias plot, but Taycheedah’s gardens are a whole different chunk of real estate. Looking out over them is like gazing at the Great Plains; you wouldn’t be surprised to see buffalo and buzzards roaming around out there.
The first days of September had been sunny and hot, and in the perverse way of growing things, every tomato on six acres had ripened on the same day. Ten thousand of the squishy red things, demanding to be handpicked before thunderstorms swept through and turned them into salsa. We picked. And picked. And picked some more. All morning, all afternoon, and into early evening. When it got to be five o’clock I thought we’d be dismissed for dinner. But no-o. You do the crime, you do the time: that was the warden’s motto. The kitchen staff sent out sandwiches and bottles of water and we ate sitting cross-legged in the dirt. Then we hauled ourselves to our feet and went back to work.