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With only the faint light from the hallway to guide her, Roxie stroked Sloan’s strong back. She craved the sensation of his skin next to hers. Hope fluttered as delicate as butterfly wings.
Speech wasn’t possible as his stubble-roughened face and tantalizing lips explored her neck and collarbone with kisses. Instinctively, she arched toward him.
She splayed her fingers across his broad shoulders. “If this is a dream, don’t wake me.”
He caressed her breast and skimmed down her length, his warm hand coming to rest lightly on her thigh. “You’re the dream. You feel so good. Like quicksilver in my hands.”
He sought her core. She hummed with need. “You have nice hands. Don’t. Stop.”
Years of pent-up desire emboldened her. His touch felt wonderful, but he was taking his sweet time. She wasn’t in the mood for slow. She pushed the covers down past his waist. He groaned as her fingers closed around him. The sound ruffled her senses. Then caution flitted into her head. “Am I hurting you? Is this too much?”
He inhaled shakily, his dark pirate eyes eating her up, his hands making short work of her clothing. “I’m fine, or I will be in a few minutes. I’ve wanted to do this from the first moment I saw you.”
“Same here.” Want and desire and need swirled through her bloodstream. She laughed, low and throaty, and was astonished at the sultry sound. She pulled him down for another head-spinning kiss.
A sense of urgency drove her.
She wanted more. So much more.
Her legs clenched around him, bringing him intimately close. She shivered under his dark perusal. Inside her, a tempest roared. “Now,” she said. “Do it now.”
His teeth flashed in the near darkness. “As you wish.”
Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Oh yeah. That’s it.”
Like a wave runner riding high on a massive wall of water, she soared through the heights of passion. Sensations blurred. Taste, sight, hearing, and smell faded until touch reigned supreme.
Him touching her.
Her touching him.
She teetered on a cresting wave, flying high, and thrilled at the heady freedom. With Sloan. Together they spiraled through the surge of raw energy, creating a universe of two. Her heart roared in her ears, and she let go, calling his name aloud.
In this moment, this time and place, he was exquisitely hers.
She drifted in a mellow haze, warm, secure, sated.
Sight was the first sense to return. She smiled at Sloan sprawled on her chest. Their mingled scents perfumed the air, a unique elixir of love. Breath eased into her lungs, sound buzzed in her ears. And love. It danced around her on fairy wings, twirling and gliding, delighting her heart.
All those years she’d missed out on this wonderfully contented feeling.
She’d finally found the right man.
***
“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?” he asked, rising up on his elbows.
“All right?” Roxie had discovered a new universe, learned a potent new body language, and experienced sensations out of this world. She was gloriously spent, and she couldn’t move a muscle if she tried. “Yes.”
It felt like she’d swallowed the sun and brilliant rays illuminated her from within. She felt better than all right. Gloriously right. Fabulously right. “I’m fine.”
“You’re thinking.” He stroked the side of her flushed face.
She trembled. Her entire nervous system was locked in hyperdrive. What would it be like to do this frequently? Could she stand the excitement? Would making love with Sloan ever seem dull and routine?
“I can’t help it,” she said. “I’ve never felt like this before. I need to understand what happened.”
“You seduced me.”
His smug attitude sliced through her bubble of happiness. “I did not. I was caring for a hurt neighbor, and you made a pass at me.”
“You see it your way, I’ll see it mine.”
Her joy faded. Insecurity whispered in her ear. This wonderful act of love had no special meaning to him? Was she just another toss in the hay? She should have known better. She pushed against his broad chest. “Get off me.”
His arms cradled her protectively. “Not so fast. What’s wrong?”
“You have to ask?”
He stared at her for a long moment, then rolled to his back, bringing her with him so that she remained intimately pressed to his side. “I’m an idiot. I forgot to use the condom in my wallet.”
“You are an idiot if you think that’s the only problem. I never would have let things go this far if I wasn’t protected. I’ve taken the pill for years to regulate my cycles. Unless,” she paused as a sudden chill swept through her. “Unless you’re—”
“Hell no. I’ve always used protection before. Always. No exceptions. What about you?”
“The same.” Not that there had been that many times for her. Once actually, and it had been a huge mistake. But there had been a condom. If she harbored any diseases, they were news to her.
After a moment, he turned on his side, facing her. “That was awesome.”
“Me, too. I mean, it was awesome for me, too.” She blushed, glad for the relative darkness of the Timmy’s bedroom. Heat emanated from Sloan’s body, cloaking her in his warmth. Awesome, he’d said. Awesome was better than good. Awesome was in a class by itself.
Now what?
Why didn’t he say something?
“How’s your head? Does it still ache?”
He kissed her again, slowly, languorously, until she felt an ache of her own. “Sweetheart, it’s not my head that’s aching,” he whispered in her hair.
She cuddled closer, thrilled that she had this effect on him. “Dang. Who knew that getting hit on the head would have this side effect? I should have clobbered you weeks ago.”
“Come here, you.” He rolled her across the rumpled bed in slow circles, laughing and nuzzling her neck.
***
SLOAN AWOKE OUT OF a deep slumber. Golden sunbeams radiated through the window, filling the room with warmth and cheer. The pillow under his head smelled fresh and felt wondrously soft.
He gazed at his unfamiliar surroundings. Baseball pennants lined the baby blue walls. A poster of Henry Aaron grinned down at him from the closed door. Baseball caps and foam tomahawks lined the bookshelves. Timmy’s room. Roxie’s house.
He sat up slowly. His head still throbbed, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been last night.
Last night.
Roxie had slept with him. She’d gone up in flames, just like he knew she would. Where was she?
Now that he’d had her, he wanted another helping, and he wasn’t a man to deny his appetite.
He shrugged into his still damp jeans. And where was his dog? His stomach grumbled. Food. He was hungry. With any luck, he’d find food, his dog and his woman in the same place.
He slung his shirt over his bare shoulder and went to find them. Mac intercepted him at the kitchen door. He paused to ruffle the dog’s head and straightened. Roxie sat at the table in the cozy blue kitchen, watching him. Though her hair was snugged back in a ponytail, he remembered the rich feel of it in his hands. A shirt that reminded him of the color of pumpkins accented her breasts. Tan pants hugged her hips.
Working clothes. Was she thinking to sneak out on him? A dark emotion seized him by the throat. No way was she giving him the brush-off again. Not after what they’d shared.
He wouldn’t let her pretend last night didn’t happen. He prowled toward her and leaned in for a proprietary kiss.
She kissed him back but not as wholeheartedly as last night. What was going on?
“Roxie?”
She met his gaze briefly, then averted her eyes. “Morning, Sloan. I made breakfast. You hungry?”
“I’m hungry for a lot of things.” His eyes followed her as she bustled around the cozy kitchen. A plate of bacon and scrambled eggs emerged from the microwave. The toaster popped.
He let it go for the moment and sat at her table, the same table where her grandmother used to feed him, and he ate the meal she’d prepared. “Thanks,” he said as he wolfed everything down.
“Slow down. You eat like Mac.”
Testy this morning, wasn’t she? He’d have her in a good mood again soon enough. He spread strawberry preserves on his toast. “How long have you been up?”
“Long enough to run over to your house, feed your dog, grab your stuff, and bring it back here.”
Sloan smiled slowly. He hadn’t expected her to be so straightforward about the practicalities of their affair. “You want me to move in with you?”
“Not exactly.” Her heated gaze met his firmly. “I need you to move out of your place. Mr. Cramer and his son-in-law said they’d finish the job, but only if you weren’t there.”
“Oh.” She saw him as a bumbling idiot who couldn’t manage his subcontractors. His good mood tanked.
“I hope you don’t mind that I took the initiative.” She loaded his dishes in the dishwasher. “I assume your plan is still to fix up the house.”
“Sure.” He wanted the repairs finished, but he wanted to sleep with Roxie more. With this arrangement he got the best of both worlds.
She propped a hip against the counter and cleared her throat. “I have a buyer that keeps calling about your house. If you’re going to sell it anyway, it might be to our mutual advantage to get the repairs completed as soon as possible.”
Suspicion clouded his head, twisted his gut. “You trying to get rid of me?”
“No. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. It’s serendipity that you have an interested buyer, and you plan on selling at some point in the not-so-distant future. Why not take advantage of this opportunity?”
Still no mention of their lovemaking. Her evasion worried him. Obviously she wasn’t wowed by his technique. Was he losing his touch? That bump on his head must have affected his performance.
He felt fine now. He could have her shivering in his arms, five minutes tops.
But maybe he was missing the big picture. Maybe he’d have a better chance of holding onto her if he kept his pants zipped. It wasn’t a strategy he’d considered before.
“I appreciate your initiative with the house,” he said. “I should have trusted my gut instinct and held you to our original contract. You’ve got the job again, if you want it.”
Emotions flashed across her face. She seemed to be on the verge of a smile but then her features tightened as if she were about to spit nails.
“Is this about last night?” she asked.
He replayed his words in his head. Getting laid had cleared his head. But judging by the grim set of her lips, he was dead in the water if he mentioned sex.
“This is about me thinking I didn’t need a property manager. I have a profound respect for your expertise. You are very good at what you do.”
She drew in a long breath. “Thank you. I had to make sure that was the case. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I sleep with clients to get their business.”
The thought of her sleeping with any other clients was unacceptable. He jammed his hands in his pockets. “You know better than that, Roxie. So, what’s the deal with my house? How long until it’s ready?”
“A month, tops, but you could move back in next week. You’ll have hot water and electricity by then.” She paused. “About the buyer. He’s crazy about your place.”
More likely he was crazy about Roxie. Sloan didn’t want to sell the house now. He especially didn’t want another guy becoming her back door neighbor.
“No deal,” he said. “My house is not for sale.”
“This guy has money. He offered me $400,000 for this house, and it isn’t even the house he wants. He wants yours.”
“Not interested.”
She nodded. “I told him as much. But he’s very insistent. Says he’ll take his business over to Sally at BC Realty.”
“I’d hate for you to lose a client because of me, but I’ve decided to keep the house after all. I plan to spend a lot more time in Mossy Bog.”
“You do?”
He edged closer, intent on kissing Roxie. “I do. Because of you. I want to spend time with you. I know we have the geography thing against us, but we’ll make it work.” His arms snugged her close. Greedily, he inhaled her scent.
“How’s your head this morning?”
“In need of your attention.”
Feather light, her fingers skimmed the knot in his hairline. “Still there but better than last night.”
“Nothing could be better than last night.” He kissed her lightly, taking his time about it. “Except maybe this morning.”
She pulled back. “I was hoping to interest you in trying out that kayak with me this morning. I’ve got a client meeting this afternoon.”
“Call me crazy but you may be overdressed for paddling in the marsh.”
“That’s because I just called my morning client and moved our appointment to the afternoon. I was covering all my bases.”
“You sure hit a home run with me. What about dinner tonight?”
“On Thursdays I eat with Les Green out at the nursing home. He owns the property where I want to put the museum. I started visiting him months ago to find out more about the property. He’s so lonely. I don’t want to let him down.”
“It’s Thursday? Damn. I’m due back in Atlanta today. Big client presentation first thing tomorrow. I’m the closer.”
“I’ll bet you are.”
“Talk about lousy timing.” He kissed her again. “I’ve got something else on Monday,” he said, then frowned, thinking. “I’ll drive back here Friday afternoon, then back to Atlanta late Sunday evening. That would give us the whole weekend together.”
“Sorry. No can do. I’m committed to helping out at the Fall Festival this weekend. If you want to join me, I’m working in the shrimp frying booth.”
“I’d do just about anything for your cooking, but I’m not sure I could keep my hands to myself that long. The people of Mossy Bog might object to a naked cook.”
“Naked cooking would get us both arrested. That’s no good.”
“Good point. Plus there’d be all that hot grease from the deep fryer. What if we kayak this morning and I come back Monday night for the naked part? Does that work for you?”
“Perfect.”
***
SLOAN DIPPED THE PADDLE into the shallow water of the man-made canal. The kayak glided across the smooth surface like a dream. The vaulted tree branches lent the historic canal a cathedral-like feeling.
He drank in the sight of the thick ferns and shrubs lining the banks. It wasn’t a stretch to assume he and Roxie were the only people for miles and miles.
Just the two of them.
He liked the sound of that.
“We need to do this again,” he said. “Soon.”
She turned and smiled at him. “Definitely.”
“Put kayaking on our schedule for Tuesday. I never knew this was out here.”
“I came out two years ago when we had an outfitter’s business in town. The river guide brought us here and gave me the map we’ve been using. I love how peaceful it feels out here. I’m glad you like it too.”
“I can’t recall ever feeling so mellow.” Contentment hummed in his bones. Was it the woman, the sex, or the natural surroundings? Whatever it was, he wanted more. “I’ve been avoiding Mossy Bog for years, but right now this is exactly where I want to be.”
“You don’t fantasize about driving a speedboat or a Jet Ski through here?”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t be the same. This sounds corny, but I feel connected. Like I belong here. I’ve never had that sense of rightness in any place I’ve lived. I don’t remember feeling this way when I was growing up here. I couldn’t wait to leave this place.”
Though the water they traversed was less than three feet deep, the ever present mud obscured the water’s clarity. Roxie rested her paddle across her lap and glanced at him over her shoulder. “I understand. When I traveled with my parents, I felt so off-balance. I would start to feel the rhythms of a place, and we’d be off to a new town. Living with Gran in Mossy Bog saved me. I missed my parents, but I found myself.”
He considered her words, testing them, trying them on for size. “Sounds like Lavinia was home, not the town.”
“That could be. But it’s more than that. Not having to move every six to twelve months gave me the chance to be me. Gran provided the stability I craved, but this place by the sea, it healed my heart. Gran’s gone now, and I could pick up stakes and move anywhere in the world, but why would I? This is my home.”
Her truth resonated deep within him.
Muddy waters. He wasn’t just crossing them, he lived in them. Gators trolled beneath the murky surface, waiting for him to display weakness.
His everyday life was far from this place, this woman. But he could adapt. A glance at his watch confirmed what he knew. As much as he wanted this idyllic moment to never end, both of them had places to be.
“I hate to mention this, because I would be happy to stay here all day, but we need to head back.”
Roxie sighed. “I wish it was Monday already.”
They paddled steadily through the lush setting, a gentle breeze stirring the tree leaves and airy swags of Spanish moss overhead.
Suddenly Roxie stopped paddling, glancing around.
“What?” he asked.
“Do you feel it?” she whispered. “I’m sure someone’s out here watching us.”
Adrenaline shot through him. He hurled forward in his seat, giving her a hard shove. “Get down!”
A split second later, a gunshot rang out. A bullet thwacked into the trees about head high. “Stay down,” Sloan ordered, reaching for the pistol strapped to his ankle.
“Hey! There are people over here!” Roxie yelled. “Stop shooting.”
“Roxie,” he hissed. “Stay down!”
Sloan cursed himself for letting his guard down. He quickly appraised the wooded canal. No shooter visible on the banks, but they didn’t have to be close with a rifle. His mission crystallized.
Protect Roxie.
Neutralize the shooter.
She glanced over her shoulder at his handgun, disbelief marring her face. “You’ve brought a gun? Here? Are you nuts?”
Heart hammering, he beached the craft on the soft bank and tugged her out, tucking her behind a cypress tree. “I’m going to sweep the area. Don’t move.”
The roar of an outboard motor reached his ears. Gun in hand, Sloan darted through the tidal forest, leaping fallen trees, sinking into the muck that passed for soil.
His mind raced with possibilities as he saw a small aluminum craft speed away. Was this a random act? Or had someone meant to harm them? The person in the speedboat wore a green jacket with the hood pulled up.
Sloan noted a high point where the ferns were crushed. He stood there and sited back to the rice canal. A portion of creek they had just paddled was visible. His chest tightened. Someone had stood here and waited to ambush them.
Fear grabbed his heart and wouldn’t let go. He hurried back to Roxie and hustled her into the kayak.
“What? What did you find out?” Her voice trembled. “Did you see the hunters?”
“No hunters. Just a boat heading down river. One person. This was deliberate.”
Roxie’s paddle stilled. “Deliberate? Not hunters?”
“Looks that way. We’re calling the cops soon as we hit town.” He studied her. “Thanks for the early warning. Ever thought about a career in security?”
She shuddered. “No. I hate guns.”
***
“I’VE GOT YOUR DESCRIPTION of the boat.” Laurie Ann Dinterman’s pen tapped the narrow notepad on her knee. She rocked slowly in Lavinia’s padded rocking chair. “But without the hull identification number, we’re out of luck. There are hundreds of boats this size in the county. And a small jon boat like that wouldn’t need the public boat ramp. The person could run it right up into a nearby tidal slip and hunker down.”
Though the danger was past, Sloan’s heart still raced. It had been close. Too damned close. No time for recriminations now. Calling upon his military training, he suppressed his frustration and anger.
The scene replayed in his head. “Sorry, I didn’t notice any hull numbers,” Sloan said. “I focused on the shooter. It was a single assailant, male I believe, about medium height and build. He used a rifle, and he was a bad shot. From where he was standing he had us dead on. Or he did until Roxie sensed someone watching us.”
Roxie’s mouth dropped. “He did?”
“If he wasn’t a bad shot, then he meant to miss,” Sloan said to the cop. “Either possibility will keep me awake tonight. How many men can you put on this case?”
“There’s two of us per shift, and the police chief is out of commission with a busted hip. Trouble is we have nothing solid to go on. I’ll canvas the docks and ask about the boater with a green jacket, but our local hardware store sells that jacket. Hell, I’ve got a jacket like that in my car.”
Sloan’s jaw tightened. “What about the boat angle?”
“Again, I can call the Coast Guard, but without something more to go on, we’d be wasting taxpayer dollars by patrolling the old rice canals. If this shooter is after you two, they won’t be in the river unless you’re in the river.”
Roxie huddled into the sofa. “You’re saying we shouldn’t kayak again?”
Laurie Ann pocketed her notepad and rose. She set her police hat on her head, pulling the brim down to just above her eyes. “Don’t put yourself in any tight spots until we catch this guy. Listen to your gut. You feel like something’s wrong, you let me know.”
Sloan stood and shook the cop’s hand. “I’m scheduled to return to Atlanta this afternoon. If the person is after me, and I hope they are, Roxie should be fine.”
“You got enemies, Mr. Harding?” the cop asked.
He shrugged. “I run a security and investigation business. Some folks are unhappy with our findings.”
“Be careful.” Laurie Ann turned to Roxie. “And, while we’re exploring possibilities, do you think this is related to your other troubles?”
A trapdoor opened in Sloan’s stomach. “What other troubles?”
Laurie Ann enumerated them on her fingers. “The break-in. The identity theft. The banana-colored boat.”
“Whoa. Back up.” Sloan took Roxie’s cold hands in his. “What break-in?”
“It happened before we met.” Roxie regarded him steadily. “Someone entered my house and trashed my kitchen. We think this burglar stole my identity.”
“Why am I just hearing about this now?”
“I took care of it.” Roxie shrugged. “There was no need to tell you.”
Sloan was very aware of the women watching him. Did they expect fireworks? It hurt that Roxie hadn’t confided in him, but he couldn’t dwell on that now. They had to move forward or they’d never identify the shooter.
“I sense a pattern here.” He eased back down on the sofa beside Roxie. “Someone is trying to get your attention.”
She shivered. “They’ve got it.”
He regarded her steadily. “Who’d you piss off?”
Alarm flared in her eyes. “Nobody. I’m in real estate, not high tech espionage. Why would anyone care about what I do at Marshview Realty?”
Sloan enfolded her in his arms. “That is a very interesting question.”
***
A FEW HOURS LATER, dog and man stared at Roxie as they lounged in her kitchen. She stirred the lumpy muffin mix and tried to find the solace cooking usually brought her. Under pressure from Sloan and Laurie Ann, she’d canceled her appointment today with Roger Cleary.
But she wouldn’t cancel her entire weekend.
No way.
“Keep Mac here with you,” Sloan said from the doorway.
“I appreciate the offer, but no thanks. I’m not risking your dog getting shot.”
“This is insane. I want you to be safe. Promise me you’ll keep the doors locked.”
Ever since Sloan’s wild dash through the woods, Roxie had been aware of the brooding tension in him. Sloan was born to be a protector.
He was also very confident of his authority.
He would take over this area of her life if she let him. A girl had to draw the line. “Cut me some slack, Sloan. I’m a single female. I don’t leave personal security to chance.”
“Take my gun. I’ll show you how to use it.”
She poured the thick batter into the wells of a cupcake pan, her nerves refusing to settle. Sure she’d been scared, but she’d helped to save them. “Forget it. I don’t like guns. And I didn’t know you carried a gun. What’s with that, by the way? Did you think our sea monster would attack? Shooting Mossy Girl would not endear you to the locals.”
“I carry a gun because I’m in security.”
“Guns kill people.”
“People kill people.” He frowned. “When were you going to tell me about the break-in?”
“When were you going to tell me about the gun?”
“Touché. Now when were you going to tell me?”
She turned to face him.
“I wasn’t. It didn’t seem relevant.”
“Didn’t seem relevant? My gut says it isn’t finished. Someone is after you, Roxie.”
She had to distract him or he would never leave. She wouldn’t let him jeopardize his career for her. She wasn’t paralyzed by fear. She’d been living with it for weeks. She could take care of herself. Sloan had to be deflected.
Going for humor, she waggled her eyebrows. “Someone caught me.”
He rose. “This is serious. The danger is escalating. I’m cancelling my trip to Atlanta. Bates can give the damn presentation to the peanut people.”
She shoved the pan in the oven and stalked over to him. “You said you were the closer. I don’t want your work to suffer because of something that happened here. I’ll be fine. I won’t go out in the kayak, and Laurie Ann will circle my house like a hammerhead shark.” She gestured toward the door. “Go forth and win new clients.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I’m not your responsibility. I can take care of myself.”
“Luck was with us today, but you can’t count on luck to hold. We have to figure out what this is all about.”
“We’ll do that, just not today. I’m a big girl, and I’ve been looking after myself for a long time. I’m flattered by your protectiveness, Sloan, but you’re crowding me. I’m not a helpless female who needs a big strong man to protect her.”
“You saying I’m big and strong?”
As he neared, her lips tugged into a smile. “Definitely.”
Her toes curled at his kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, savoring his nearness, his strength.
“You could come with me,” he said. “Mossy Bog would survive without you for one weekend.”
“Give it a rest, Harding. I’ve got this.”
He kissed her again, a thorough remember-me kind of kiss. “I’ll be counting the minutes until I’m back here with you.”
The dreaminess in her eyes cleared. “Wait. In all the excitement, I almost forgot. I have something for you.” She smiled tremulously and handed him a bound book. “I found it in Pop Pop’s papers. He talks about your granddad in here. Maybe it will be helpful in your search.”
“Thanks.” He accepted the small leather-bound book. The corners were bent like a well-used billfold. It pleased him she’d remembered his interest in the journal. “Don’t forget me.”
***
ROXIE DROVE TO MARSHVIEW Realty with a police escort. Overkill, she thought, but she’d agreed to it before Sloan left.
Being shot at had been horrible, but Sloan and Laurie Ann were worrying enough for the whole town.
Sloan.
She sighed with a smile. He was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man. Sexy. Dashing. Tender. Protective. Resourceful.
And he cared for her. He wouldn’t go platonic on her. It wasn’t his way. His name bubbled through her giddy thoughts, filling her with joy.
The sun had never shone brighter, the autumn leaves had never been so fragrant. Maybe it had to do with being shot at, but she suspected Sloan was at least half the reason she felt so alive today.
So what if she’d messed up her signing bonus with Noreen? It wasn’t like that had been written in stone anyway. She’d find a way to get the museum funded or die trying. You couldn’t put a price on love.
Love. She floated into the office, stored her leather purse in a desk drawer, and retrieved her messages. After returning the Ashburns’ call about their pending closing and touching base with Mrs. Centineo about her scheduled walk-through, she noticed Megan was staring at her. “What?”
“You know what.” Megan waggled a finger. “Something happened last night. My guess is that you and Mr. Harding are once again on a first name basis.”
“You’re right.” Roxie brimmed with energy, and she bounced across the office to hug her friend. “So much has happened since yesterday, I barely know where to start.”
“Easy. Start with the good stuff.”
Roxie blushed. “I can’t talk about that, but it was good. I thought my Mr. Right would never show up.”
“You’ve got it bad. Please tell me he’s just as smitten. How’d you make the transition from bite-his-head-off mad to happy dancing in the briar patch?”
Roxie quickly explained about the accident. “I was worried about him. There I was tucking him in Timmy’s bed, planning to stay awake all night to watch over him, and he made a pass at me. I thought about the times in my life I’ve said no to things I wanted to do. The plain truth is I didn’t want to say no to him. I said yes.”
“I can see that.”
Roxie stopped. Why wasn’t her friend excited for her? “But?”
“But, and I hope you don’t hate me for saying anything, but in this specific area I know what I’m talking about. He’s not a beginner-date kind of guy. You entered the game at the expert level.” Megan smiled thinly. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I can’t imagine going my whole life and never feeling like this.”
“Tell me this. Has he called yet?”
“Of course not. It’s only been half an hour since he left. It’s too soon to expect him to call...isn’t it?”
Megan shrugged. “You know this guy. I don’t. All I’m saying is that any guy who was ever crazy about me, Dave included, wanted to spend every waking moment with me. I think it’s odd that everything could be so wonderful and then you both go your separate ways. When will you see him again?”
Some of the shimmer leaked out of Roxie’s happiness. Then she remembered how hard she’d worked to convince him to leave. “Monday. He has meetings over the next few days. But Megan, I didn’t tell you all the news. When we went kayaking today, someone shot at us.”
“With a gun?”
“A rifle. According to Sloan, the shooter was a male of medium build wearing a green jacket like Barry’s Hardware sells.”
“Get out! Where you scared?”
Roxie nodded. “But Sloan took matters in hand and brought us safely home. He was amazing.”
“Sounds like it. Dave and I will keep an eye on you ’til he returns. You should move in with us.”
“Thanks, but there’s really no need. I’ve got new door locks and police circling my house every hour. Laurie Ann’s calling me in between, too. I’m safe as I can be. I’d rather talk about phone calls.”
“Ah...phone calls. Right. The dating gospel according to Megan says that Sloan should call you every night he’s away. If he’s really got it bad, he will call you in between as well.”
Roxie sat down at her desk and studied her to-do list. “We’re adults. I don’t need to check up on him when he’s out of sight, and he shouldn’t feel that way either.”
“Don’t kid yourself. Humans are jealous creatures. We’re all emotional and not entirely rational either. Mark my words, something is wrong if he doesn’t call.”
She considered Megan’s words. If Sloan wasn’t crazy about her, how would she handle that? How could she work with a guy who didn’t return her feelings? What came first, the romance or the job?
The phone rang and Megan answered it. Roxie heard her friend field the inquiry, but her mind was miles away, in a black Jeep with a large German Shepherd.
Sloan would be back in four days. If he didn’t call her, then she’d call him. The gospel according to Megan might need to be re-written. Right?
***
SLOAN WATCHED THE SECONDS tick by on his Rolex. Where the hell was Bates? He’d trusted Jeff to run a tight ship while he was gone, and it seemed his trust had been misplaced.
The Edinger account wasn’t closed out, and there were no new proposals on his desk. When he’d left, there’d been three physical security jobs needing estimates. What was going on?
“Sorry I’m late, boss.”
Sloan gestured toward a chair and Jeff sat. “What’s the status on the Edinger account?”
“I need to talk to you about that. I thought something was off about that job all along. I did some digging around. Our background checks were part of a setup to frame an employee for stealing from the company.”
“You have proof?”
“You mean like surveillance photos and computer transactions linking the supposed bad egg to the crime but all the while incriminating Troy Edinger?”
“Yeah. You got that?”
Jeff grinned. “Sure do.”
“Did we get paid yet?”
“The final payment cleared the bank yesterday.”
Sloan rubbed his chin. “Damn, Jeff. You’re good. The bad guy will go to jail, and we still get paid. It doesn’t get any better than that.”
“You thought I’d screwed up, didn’t you? I knew you’d check the files when you came in. I bet you almost blew a gasket when you saw I still had the account open.”
“I’m not an admin machine, but I am on edge. Someone took a shot at me and Roxie.”
“You back with her?” At Sloan’s nod, Bates continued. “You want us to take this guy out?”
“Couldn’t ID the shooter. Local LEOs are keeping Roxie under close surveillance for now. The only saving grace is the guy’s a lousy shot.”
“That’s a helluva note. You want me to do tomorrow’s presentation so you can drive back down there?”
Sloan shook his head. “She’ll have a fit if I turn around and drive back down there. But I can’t stop worrying about her.”
Bates grinned. “Feisty is she? No wonder you’re after her.”
“When I’m with her...”
“Yeah?”
“Never mind.”
Bates tapped Sloan on the shoulder, hard. “Give it up.”
“I feel different. Like I’m somebody.”
“Hell, you always was somebody. ’Bout time you realized it. Is she hot?”
Sloan couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off his face. “Yeah. She’s hot.”
He’d had his fingers on the phone to call her twice since he’d left her. He wanted to hear her voice again and that worried him. A lot.
What sort of hold did she have over him? He hadn’t expected to see her in his house, hadn’t expected her to make love to him. He hadn’t expected to lose control and forget to use a condom.
That never happened before. Was that what made him want to be with her so much? The fact that she was the first woman that he’d ever been skin to skin with like that? He’d thought having sex with her would get her out of his system, but if anything, it had made the craving worse. He really wanted to talk to her.
Talk to her.
But he couldn’t go against everything that he knew. He couldn’t go changing his personal rules. There had to be some semblance of order in his world.
He’d see her on Monday. That would be soon enough.
He gazed at the black phone on the corner of his desk. Calling her right now would be crazy. He’d be opening himself up to all kinds of trouble. She’d expect him to call all the time, he’d forget, and there’d be hell to pay.
He called anyway. “Hey, Sunshine. Miss me?”
“You know I do. How was the traffic?”
“Steady. Any word from the cops about the shooter?”
“Nothing to report. A cruiser goes by every hour and Laurie Ann has personally called me on the half hours in between. I’m okay.”
“Good. Stay alert. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Back atcha.”
***
ROXIE’S HAND COVERED her mouth. When she’d gone to visit Les Green for their regular Thursday night dinner that evening, she’d been shocked to learn of his hospitalization. She’d had to see him for herself. He looked so frail lying there in the hospital bed, almost a caricature of himself.
“How long’s he been like this?” she asked from the doorway.
Her fellow bridesmaid and nurse, Brenda Harris, tugged her away from the hospital room. They strolled down the tiled corridor under the hum of fluorescent lights. “A few days. His temperature spiked, then he went into a coma.”
Roxie hugged her middle. “I had no idea. You should have called me.”
“Can’t do that. Patient confidentiality.”
“Has his daughter come to visit?”
“Haven’t seen her.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Andrea didn’t visit much when he was healthy. Will he get better?”
“That’s up to him. He has a DNR.”
Roxie knew what a do not resuscitate order was. “Poor thing.”
“I’ll take good care of him. For however many days or hours he has left.”
Moisture blurred her vision. She hated to think of Les dying, but at least death would end his suffering. “You better. He’s one of the good guys.”
“What’s this about you and Sloan being shot at? Why didn’t you tell me the cops are riding circles around your house?”
“I figured word would get out soon enough. Besides, Laurie Ann and Sloan are both driving me nuts about safety.”
“They should be. I’m walking you to your car.”
“No need. I’ve got a police escort waiting for me out there.”
“Yes, there is a need. I’ll help you look for bad guys on the way.”
Roxie sighed as her friend took her arm. “If only we knew what they looked like.”
***
“HEY YOU.”
Roxie smiled all the way to her toes. She set aside the file she’d been working on at home and leaned back in the comfy pillows. “Hey.”
“How’d the presentation go?”
“Signed ’em.”
“You are a closer.”
“My team is good. Makes a difference. How’d dinner with the old guy go?”
“It didn’t. He’s in the hospital.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He wasn’t in the best of health to start with. Chances are he won’t pull through. What a waste. He’s such a nice guy.”
“Anything I can do?”
Roxie sighed. “No. There’s nothing I can do either. I like to fix things, but you’ve already seen the full extent of my nursing abilities. And you want to know something else?”
“What?”
“I feel guilty saying this, because I do care about Les Green, but if he dies my museum project dies. His daughter inherits his estate, and she hates me. Andrea Albert wouldn’t sell that old warehouse to me if I had millions to toss at her.”
“Want me to adjust her attitude?”
“Heavens, no.” She paused. “You wouldn’t. Would you?”
“I would if you wanted me to.”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up. I wouldn’t have said anything if she hadn’t accused me of trying to hustle my way into Les Green’s life as his next wife.”
“You like this guy?”
“Not like that. We’re friends. We played gin rummy and talked about his days at the mill. I planned to buy the property from him, but I don’t have enough money pulled together yet. We have ten grand in our Friends of the Museum account, but that’s not nearly enough.”
“You seem to know everyone down there. Have you considered getting a fixer-upper instead and having people donate their skills?”
“Of course I’ve considered it. But the old cotton warehouse is the place the museum has to go. I know it good as I know my own name.” She huffed out a breath. “I’m sorry. I get excited about the museum.”
“How about me? Do you get excited about me?”
“I do.” Heat rose to her cheeks as she realized she’d given the traditional wedding response. “I mean, of course, I enjoy your company.”
“What about my body? Enjoy that too?”
She shrieked. “You’re trying to embarrass me, aren’t you? Isn’t phone sex against federal law or something?”
“Don’t know about that, but it pales beside the real thing. I wish I was there with you.”
“Me too.”
“And for the record, your nursing skills are top notch. I’ve never been treated so nicely. I plan to bring all my concussions to you.”
***
BY SATURDAY EVENING, Sloan couldn’t stop pacing in his condo. He’d already been for a late night walk with Mac. He’d picked up his clothes from the cleaners and paid his monthly bills. His packed suitcase waited by the front door.
He’d reviewed the last two weeks’ worth of time sheet logs, okayed the payroll amounts, and agreed to hire another employee because of the increased volume of physical security jobs. He’d organized a mental outline of what he wanted to say to his team at Monday’s staff meeting.
But no matter what he did, Roxie’s smiling face stayed in his mind. She was under his skin all right. He had a million things he wanted to talk to her about and that worried him.
His usual MO was to half-listen to the women he dated prattle on and on. They didn’t expect him to respond. They needed someone to listen to them, and they valued his contribution in the bedroom. He understood that behavior.
What he didn’t understand was why he needed to pick up the phone and call Roxie. Friday night they’d talked about his dog and her favorite desserts. Tonight she’d talked about cooking shrimp for the fall festival, he’d told her about his Army buddies. Each night it had been harder to hang up. Each night he’d felt the strong tidal pull of the coast and the woman.
He’d known he could unlock the sexual energy that pulsed around her. They’d been magic together. He’d had great sex before, but it had never consumed him like this. He needed to see her, to fill his head with her fragrance, to drown in her tropical gaze, to hear her sigh out his name.
He wanted to sit in her cozy kitchen again. To have her take care of him, to eat the food she prepared for him. He loved that blue kitchen. He shook his head sadly.
“I’m losing it, bud,” he said to Mac.
Mac thumped his tail energetically.
It probably wasn’t any news to his dog that Sloan was losing it. Mac knew everything. Mac had run right into Roxie’s arms the first time he’d seen her. Mac didn’t have any embarrassing family history to overcome. Mac had taken one look at the woman and decided that he wanted her.
A man could learn a lot from his dog.