by Dana Marton
“You should make that the slogan for the PD. Have a sign made for the entrance.”
“I’ll put that in the suggestions box,” Harper deadpanned. Then he grew serious. “Tell me what happened with Dusty.”
“Tomorrow. Let’s do something different with the rest of tonight.”
“Don’t rush me,” he teased. “I’m savoring the fact that I finally have you where I want you.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes at him. And then she told Harper everything that happened, how Dusty had shown up at the B and B, everything he’d said to her.
“Are you sure you’re all right? How all right are you?” Harper asked once she’d fallen silent.
“On what scale?”
“Do you feel like you’ve been through a meat grinder or just tumbled around in a cement mixer?”
“Wow. That’s a very manly scale. How about I’m all right at the level where an orgasm wouldn’t kill me.” She shifted closer to him and watched with interest as heat flared in his Irish Sea-blue eyes. “In fact, I think it would be beneficial.”
“You don’t need to rest?” The heat intensified to coal-furnace level.
“You’re killing me, you know that?”
“I want to make love to you.”
“Flipping finally.”
“You need rest and—”
“More lovemaking, less lecturing, please.”
He grinned. “I’m going to have to unwrap you out of this burrito first.”
“Oh, I thought that was your way of practicing safe sex.”
He laughed out loud as he peeled her free. “Christ, Allie, I missed you.”
“I thought about you now and then.”
After he cleared away the comforter, he untied the belt of her robe. Then she was naked.
She reached for him. “Hurry up.”
“I will not. I will look at my girl. I will look all I want.”
She responded with tugging his shirt free of his pants. She ran her fingers over the hills and valleys of his muscles. “You’re different too. I approve.”
“Good. Because my plan is that I’m going to be the last man you’ll ever see naked again, forever and ever.”
“Sure of ourselves, are we?” She stripped off his shirt and tossed it at the foot of the bed.
“I have a trick or two up my sleeves.”
She blinked. “You don’t have sleeves.”
“I love you.”
That was some trick. It had the power to render her silent. Harper Finnegan loved her, had her in his bed, had asked her to marry him.
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent.” His gaze never left hers for a second. “How is it possible to love someone this much?”
The words stole her breath. They were momentous. Made her ridiculously happy. Happier than she probably deserved, so she made a joke of them.
“You’re a detective. If you have questions, investigate.”
He held her gaze. “Wrong answer. I love you. What do you say back?”
“I don’t like being pressured.”
“Then tell me you don’t love me.”
She couldn’t. “I might love you, but I’m not going to tell you until later, because I don’t trust all this.”
“You can trust me. I’m an officer of the law.”
She rolled her eyes. “I trust you. I don’t trust being this happy.”
“You’re happy?”
“More than I’ve ever been.”
“I’ll take that as an answer,” he said, and then leaned forward to brush a kiss over her lips. He didn’t pull back. He waited a beat, then kissed her deeper, mindful of her injuries, breathtakingly gentle.
He loved her. The thought bounced around in her head like a tennis ball in the dryer. He loved her. He was kissing her. His hands were…
“Harper!”
He stopped. “No good? Did I hurt you?”
“Very good.” She lifted her hips to regain contact.
He immediately obeyed the unspoken command, touching her the whole time while he shed his pants and boxer shorts with the agility of a trained contortionist. Being a police officer probably had a certain physical requirement. She so approved of that.
Then he was naked too, and he kissed her as he moved over her. “Ready?”
“Wait! I want a better look.”
He pulled back a little. Gave her two seconds. “Enough?”
“No. I’m going to have to contemplate New Harper. I might need pictures.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Kinky. How do you feel about video?” he asked, and made her laugh again.
This was what she wanted, she realized. A kind, patient man who could make her laugh in bed.
She reached up and pulled him down to her, the smooth skin of his shoulders warm under her hands. Then she wrapped her legs around his hips. “Ready.”
“Thank freaking heaven right there. I’m too old for this much teasing.”
“You could never take any teasing. You were always ready in five minutes.”
“I was always ready the second you looked my way. I held off through superhuman effort. Now watch the new and improved me.”
He sank into her slowly, carefully, stretching, teasing. His ragged groan seemed to come from his soul. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” She shifted so he could slide in deeper.
He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. “What can I do to make you consider staying in Broslin forever?”
“I’ve already been considering. I had time to think about it while I was locked up in that stupid bread truck. For starters, there’s a substitute gig I was offered right before Dusty showed up. I could probably fit my reenactment appointments around classes. People were okay at the Historical Society evening, I thought. Pretty nice, even. If anyone gives me a hard time, brings up my father or whatever, I’ll ignore them.”
“Marry a Finnegan. Nobody messes with us.”
“I’ll take that under consideration. Maybe I’ll see if Kennan is available.”
“That’s just plain mean.” His gaze filled with so much love, it took her breath away.
“Anyway, that substitute job would take me to June. Then, come summer, I could do tutoring. Kind of hope for the best and be willing to give it a chance.”
“I think I know the teacher you’ll be substituting for. Kennan dated her in high school. Misty Keib. I doubt Misty will go back to teaching in the fall,” Harper said. “This new baby will make three kids under the age of four in her house. Day care would cost more than she makes. You might be able to apply for the job.”
“I could. But I want to keep doing some reenacting too. I’m not ready to give up my business. I could just use Broslin as my home base.”
“How about using my place as your home base?” He rocked into her. “Unless you don’t want to live next door to my parents. We can move. Kennan is buying a lot to build a house. There’s another lot for sale next to his.”
She arched her back. Gasped.
“Move in with me, Allie Bianchi. Let’s start there. It’ll give me time to talk you into marriage.” He rocked into her again. “Just say yes.”
“Maybe.”
“Okay.” He kissed her. “I’ll take your maybe.”
And then he took the rest of her. Carefully, but most thoroughly.
A loud moan escaped her. She bit her lip. “God, they probably heard that two streets over.”
“I hope so. People will be buying me beers tomorrow.” He grinned. “You okay?”
“Better than okay,” she said between gasps. “You have excellent attention to detail.”
“Comes from my cop training.”
“What else?”
He pulled her hands above her head and held them together at the wrist, trapping her even while being as gentle as if he was holding a fistful of feathers, putting no pressure on her bruises.
“I’m very good at restraints.”
A thrill shot through her. “Oh.”
“I also excel at problem solving.”
“No problem here,” she said, on the edge of tumbling into bliss.
He shifted and pushed her right over that rugged edge. “Exactly.”
She loved the way he made love to her, the way he looked at her, the way he smiled, sated and happy. She loved him.
The image of a future with Harper formed in her mind. A true partner—in every sense of the word. Nights like this. As many as she could manage. If, instead of struggling to fill in the blanks that school budget cuts had left in her schedule, she did take that substitute job in Broslin, the number of those nights in Harper’s arms could be considerable.
Not the life she’d envisioned for herself even just a week ago.
Better. So she told him. “You’re better than even a conversion van.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I’ll take it for a compliment. You can explain later.” He kissed her.
The cold, dark night Harper had found her alone, half-frozen and stuck in snow, seemed a million years away.
“Okay. All right,” she told him. “I’m going to hope for the best and fight for it like hell. I’m through running.”
“What if I want to chase you around the house naked?”
“Maybe.”
“With handcuffs.”
“Definitely.”
“And if I want you to wear your Calamity Jane outfit? I bet your ass looks damn fine in chaps.”
“But not out of chaps?”
“Let me check.”
As she squealed, he flipped her over, then kissed his way down her spine. When he reached the end, he broke out in song, “Paris Makes Me Horny” from Victor/Victoria, except he substituted Paris with your ass.
Which made her laugh so hard, the bed shook under them. “How on earth do you even know that?”
“It’s on the list of musicals my mother watches every New Year’s Eve. Those of us who want to have her midnight chocolate rum cake must suffer through the experience. I tell her every year that I’m looking into child abuse charges, but she’s damn difficult to intimidate.”
“You know, I think your mother and I will get along just fine,” Allie said before she kissed him.
As Calamity Jane would have said, happier than a hog in a pond of plum pudding.
THE END
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Thank you so much for reading my books! The wait for the next (and last) Broslin Creek book won’t be too long, I promise. In fact, DEATHTOLL is already up for preorder. (Coming in May.)
The Broslin Creek Series began with the story of Kate and Murph (an eye-witness running from a deadly assassin and the soldier who steps between her and a violent death). DEATHTOLL, the last book, features the same couple. Kate and Murph are back in Broslin Creek, thinking they're safe, their worst enemy dead. But soon people around Kate begin to die under suspicious circumstances, and she and Murph must face the terrible realization that Asael followed them home, and not only are their lives in danger, but also the lives of the townspeople who took Kate in years ago.
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THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dana