Get To Me
Get To Me, Book Two in the Men of Honor Series
Copyright 2015 Lara Van Hulzen
Published by Lara Van Hulzen at Smashwords
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
For My Lisa. May you always find your confidence in God who created you. Guided by His love. Strong and courageous in His promises.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Acknowledgements
About Lara Van Hulzen
Other books by Lara Van Hulzen
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Chapter 1
Dane observed the ballroom. Couples swayed on the dance floor, the bride and groom moving as one person in a loving embrace. He smiled. Ben and Tess deserved to be happy.
Dane’s tuxedo tie hung limp down his now unbuttoned collar, giving him room to breathe. The country boy in him never minded a nice, crisp shirt. He preferred it, actually. But the tie was a bit much. Too stuffy.
He didn’t mind weddings. The sense of new beginnings, a fresh start with the person you love. His gut churned. But now they were a reminder of all he’d lost. All he would never have.
He flipped a napkin ring around and around his fingers. Sitting alone at a table near the back of the room was the perfect spot for optimal evaluation of the wedding reception. As much as he’d like to shut off his cop instincts, he couldn’t. Not even at his best friend’s wedding. He didn’t fear any problems. Being alert and aware were simply woven into his DNA, his police training accentuating it.
A streak of crimson across the room caught his eye. Aimee. Soft curls floated down her back like waves of sunrise mixed with fire. Much like the woman herself. A woman he couldn’t stop thinking about since he first laid eyes on her, both terrifying and intriguing him at the same time. As best man and maid of honor, they’d danced the first dance together, but he hadn’t seen her since. He had every intention of rectifying that and dancing with her again before the night was over.
She held her glass under the punch fountain, her body swaying to the music. He sat back and appreciated the curves that moved easily back and forth under dark green silk. His hand twitched at the memory of holding those very curves as they’d danced. A tall woman sauntered up next to Aimee and held her glass under the fountain. Aimee’s spine went rigid, her dance moves gone. Dane tensed as well, his connection to her a mystery he hadn’t yet solved. The woman said something, smirked, then walked away.
Dane leaned forward in his chair, eager to see Aimee’s reaction. She blinked back tears and took her drink to an empty corner table where she plopped down in a chair. Dane rubbed his chin and sat back. He couldn’t say he knew Aimee well, but he knew enough to be surprised the rude woman didn’t get a hearty piece of Aimee’s mind and then some. Her hair wasn’t the only fiery thing about her.
He left his seat and made his way towards her. Now was as good a time as any to see about that dance he wanted. The thought of holding her once again propelled him forward. This was going to be an interesting night indeed.
***
“Is this seat taken?”
Aimee looked up. So lost in her own emotional turmoil, she failed to see him approach.
Dane.
The man who somehow invaded her thoughts more than she was comfortable with was standing right in front of her.
His dark hair was combed perfection, his blue eyes glimmering. The first time she’d met him his eyes stood out even behind thick-rimmed glasses. Tonight, without glasses, the piercing blue was downright dangerous. Goodness. Did he have to be so gorgeous? Every time she’d seen him before, he’d looked great in jeans, a buttoned-down shirt and cowboy boots. But the way he looked now in a tuxedo almost made her fall off her chair.
He waved a hand in front of her. “You mind if I sit here?”
She blinked and felt heat flush her cheeks. Crud! He’d caught her staring. “Sure… Yeah. Go ahead.”
The smirk he gave as he sat down beside her only intensified her discomfort. Not to mention his eyes twinkling, making him look all the more yummy. How was that even possible?
“You okay?” He leaned back, long legs stretched out in front of him. He crossed one black, shiny cowboy boot clad foot over the other.
“I’m fine. Why?”
“Just couldn’t help noticing that blonde over there giving you a hard time at the punch fountain.” He nodded toward the woman across the room, now flirting shamelessly with another groomsmen.
Aimee looked that direction and snorted. “Huh. Vanessa Clark. That poor sap she’s hitting on has no idea who he’s dealing with.”
“And just exactly who is he dealing with?” Dane raised an eyebrow her direction.
Goodness, those eyelashes should be illegal.
“She’s just a viper I used to go to school with.”
Dane laughed, deep in his chest. All man. Aimee’s spine tingled. What was it about this guy that got under her skin so fast? Not since high school had a man made her think twice about what her hair looked like or made her blush. And here she sat, wishing she had a mirror to check herself and praying her Norwegian skin wasn’t revealing too much of her thoughts. Yeah, right. Good luck with that. She probably looked like a beet with a frizzy red top right now. That’s attractive.
“A viper, huh? Sounds interesting.”
Aimee took a sip of punch to hide the jealousy that rolled through her system. She placed her cup down on the table, tapped her fingernails against the side to hide her shaky hands. “I guess. If that’s your type.”
He laughed again, the sound making her insides tingle once more.
“I never said a word about my type. I just find it interesting you describe her that way.”
Aimee looked again at Vanessa. Her blonde hair was pinned up, heavy makeup around her eyes made them stand out. A too-short black dress accentuated her long legs topped off by six-inch heels. A black dress. Who wears black to a wedding? Vanessa. That’s who.
Aimee snorted again.
“I’m assuming you know her well enough to call her a viper.” Dane leaned forward, grabbed a napkin ring, and twirled it in his fingers.
She watched the ring roll around in his hands. Hands that had held her dancing. Large hands. Ones that made her feel safe, secure, like he was holding something precious. But strong and sure. Capable of protecting. She shook her head and blinked. What was her problem? Zoning out over a guy’s hands was not her norm.
“Um, yeah.” She tried to recover. “We went to high school together. She’s now a hotshot attorney.”
“If she’s a viper, why’d your sister
invite her to the wedding?”
“Tess didn’t. Vanessa came as someone’s date.” Aimee took another sip of punch.
“Huh. Okay. Why would she do that? What’s it to her to be here?”
“Oh, she’s competitive with Grace. You know, my oldest sister. The one over there holding that darling little pipsqueak who’s my nephew.” She pointed a few tables over. Her sister wore a bridesmaid’s gown just like Aimee’s and held an infant in her arms. His little tux looked made for a doll. “I helped her shop for his tux.”
Dane smiled. “He’s cute. But why would the viper…I mean, Vanessa, compete with Grace?”
“Grace is an attorney as well. I think Vanessa just wanted to see if Grace got fat from her pregnancy and rub it in her face.”
Dane looked over towards Grace, who handed the infant to the man standing behind her and kissed his cheek. “Looks like Vanessa’s gonna be disappointed.”
“Yep. Grace is a marathoner. She barely gained the weight of the baby. Looks like Vanessa’s wasting her time.”
***
Dane’s face hurt from smiling. Aimee snickering at Grace one-upping this Vanessa woman over the size of her waistline was too cute. He could see her as a freshman in high school at the lunch table, happy as Viper Vanessa tripped over her cheerleading shoes.
“So what did she say to you that got you so upset?” He knew it was a risky question. And prepared himself in case a piece of her mind decided to head his direction.
Aimee glared at him but then sighed heavily. She picked at a thread dangling from the side of her dress. For a moment he caught a glimpse of her as a young teen, struggling to find her way in the world, instead of the confident woman he saw before him. The instinct to protect her hit him so hard he leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together. They might pull her to him of their own volition and he was pretty sure she wasn’t ready for that. Neither was he.
“I don’t know. The same old stuff she always says to me.”
Her valiant attempt not to tear up almost tore his heart from his chest. He looked over at Vanessa, willing himself to sit still and not go over and give her a piece of his mind. He focused back on Aimee. That was safer territory. Sort of. Depending on how he defined safe.
“I can’t imagine there’s anything in the world someone like...her...could say to a strong woman like you that would get you so upset.”
Aimee blinked and looked away. She swallowed hard then turned back to him. Her unwillingness to give in to whatever this woman said made her more attractive to him than anything else at that moment.
“Let’s just say I was kind of a nerd in high school. Vanessa wasn’t. It was the stereotypical thing. No big deal.”
From the way Aimee played with that thread on her dress, Dane knew it was a big deal. At least to Aimee. And that made it matter to him too.
“I have a really hard time believing that.”
“Oh, it’s true.” She abandoned her thread and went back to tapping her punch glass. “I wore glasses and had braces, and let’s just say my hair color draws some attention. Add frizzy curls to it, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.”
Dane eyed the curls she referred to, seeing only waves of fire, smooth and begging to be touched. He kept his hands clasped together and leaned them on the table. Glasses could never deter anyone from the emerald shimmer that were her eyes. Teens were always such blind fools.
***
He’d called her strong. That was a new one. Feisty, and even careless had been used to describe her before, but never strong. When Vanessa had cornered her at the punch fountain and made a snide remark about her hair, the last thing Aimee felt was strong. Every horrible teasing word spoken about her in her twenty-six years of life came flooding back, punching her in the gut and rendering her speechless. Something she also wasn’t accused of too often.
Dane looked around the room, relaxed but flipping the napkin ring in his fingers again.
“What about you?” Aimee eyed the napkin ring. “Any secrets in your past that you feel like sharing? Maybe a nervous tick of some kind?”
Dane followed her gaze to his hand and abruptly laid the napkin ring down on the table. He sat back in the chair again, his arms now folded across his large and rather muscular chest. Aimee sighed, remembering how it felt to be up against his chest when they danced. She really needed to control herself. She was acting like a high school girl with a crush on the quarterback of the football team.
“Well, I’m not too sure about secrets, and as far as nervous tics, I just don’t like weddings all that much.”
“Hmmm, now that sounds interesting.” She raised a teasing eyebrow his direction. “Sounds like there could be a secret or two behind that admission.”
A dark cloud moved across those blue eyes and a scowl formed on his brow. Ok, touchy subject. Maybe it was wise to steer another direction—for now.
Laughter erupted from the other side of the room. A woman’s cackle to be precise. Aimee and Dane looked once again in Vanessa’s direction. She now had her talons on the groomsman’s arm. The fake laugh she’d perfected in high school still worked as a tractor beam, drawing him into her web. Aimee shook her head.
“High school is never over, is it?”
***
Dane looked from Vanessa to Aimee and, on instinct, stood and reached out his hand.
“Would you like to dance?” He leaned toward her and winked. “Again.”
Her cheeks flushed crimson. And man, if it wasn’t the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Cute wrapped in a curvy, sexy, fire-filled package. If he wasn’t careful, he’d start blushing himself.
“Sure…I guess.”
He’d caught her off guard, but was grateful when she held out a hand and placed it in his. A jolt of electricity moved up his arm and straight to his chest. He turned and pulled her toward the dance floor. Maybe he’d imagined it. Had she felt it too? They’d touched before. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit it had happened then, too. He just wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it. He shook his head as they reached the dance floor, spun her around, and then pulled her to him. His mind was messing with him.
She moved with him in perfect rhythm to the music, their feet gliding in step together. His right hand against the small of her back, her body up against his as if it were made to be there. The realization warmed him and knocked the wind out of him at the same time.
A movement to their right caught his eye. Vanessa was watching them, eyes narrowed, her too-red lips in a scowl. He looked at Aimee, who had obviously noticed her as well. She tucked her head in toward his chest and sighed. Every bone in his body at that moment wanted to erase all the years she’d been made fun of. Take away all the pain idiotic teenagers like Vanessa had caused. The smug look on Vanessa’s face was the last straw.
He twirled them in Vanessa’s direction. When they were within earshot, he ran a hand down Aimee’s cheek then tenderly through her hair.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Aimee Jansenn. And your hair is a fire that would fuel any man’s dreams.”
Stopping right in front of Vanessa and where the whole room could see them, he took her face in his hands and kissed her.
Chapter 2
She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. Dane’s hands held her face as if holding a precious gem while his lips moved over hers, all but claiming her as his right there on the dance floor. One minute he’d been guiding her effortlessly in a sturdy embrace and the next, telling her how beautiful she was and then placing his dreamy lips on hers. She never wanted to wake up.
“Aimee!”
Why was Dane shouting?
“Aimee! Come on and get moving.”
Something nudged her leg. Dane’s face faded as Aimee blinked. The pillow her arms wrapped around was mushy, nothing like Dane’s torso, all muscle and strength.
“Dreaming about your detective again?”
Aimee untangled a blanket from her legs as she sat up
on the sofa. Her vision now clear, she watched her roommate, Torie, plop her purse on the counter and start digging through it. At six feet tall, Torie was all legs. In her current outfit of cowgirl boots and skinny jeans, she looked downright hate-worthy. When Aimee teased her about modeling, Torie would shrug and say she’d be considered fat. Whatever. If fat meant awesome muscles, confident, and strong, Aimee would take it. Aimee liked her own short, curvy self. But the sleeveless top showcasing Torie’s sculpted arms merely added to the “I should loathe her” factor. Aimee ran her fingers through her wad of curls, eyed her wrinkled shirt, and groaned.
“Come on, Princess. You said you’d go country dancing with me tonight. You need to shake out the cobwebs and get going.”
Aimee had completely forgotten about agreeing to go dancing. Ugh! What was she thinking? She loved to dance but just hadn’t been in the mood to go party since…well, since Tess’s wedding a week ago.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Torie said, shaking Aimee from her thoughts. “But you’ve had a week to drool in your dreams over detective boy. It’s time to move on.”
Torie was right. Sadly, she was right quite a bit of the time when it came to men. A by-product of working as a cop, for sure. Aimee loved how men underestimated Torie. A butt-kicking police officer all wrapped up in a super-model package. Men had no clue what to do with her, and they sorely misjudged her. Meeting almost a year ago through a mutual friend who knew they both needed a roommate, Aimee and Torie hit it off immediately and had been friends ever since.
Aimee grinned.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She swung her feet to the floor and folded the blanket.
Torie sat next to her on the sofa. “Look. I know he kissed you at the wedding, but you haven’t heard a single word from him since.”
Aimee winced.
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