Within His Sight

Book one of the Heart of Justice series

Denise A Agnew

Published 2008

ISBN 978-1-59578-487-2

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr,
Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2008, Denise A Agnew. All rights reserved. No part of
this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission
of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books

http://lsbooks.com

Email:

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Editor

Kat Mayo

Cover Artist

April Martinez

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s
imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons,
living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Dedication

To my dear husband, Terry.

Always my hero.

Acknowledgments

To Jim Adams, Sierra Vista Police Department and B.J. Bourg for their expertise in SWAT
operations. You guys are the best

Chapter One

Women are preprogrammed to respond to the alpha male in a sexual manner. They can’t resist
testosterone.

Mary Wickes watched the TV psychologist mouthing the words on the flat screen mounted
overhead on the distant wall. Thank goodness for closed-captioning.

Noise in the bar had escalated in the last few minutes as the Friday after-work crowd entered,
dusted with a skiff of snow and ready to brave what the newscast predicted would be a kick-ass
storm. Might as well celebrate the coming blizzard with a shot of whiskey or a glass of wine.

“Women also look for protection from an alpha male and respond to him as they would have in
the cave thousands of years ago,” the captioning said on the screen. “Women are slaves to their
biology.”

“Bull,” Mary said out loud, then glanced around in hope no one heard her talking to the
television.

Nope. People laughed, talked over the loud music.

“Women can’t resist when a man’s chemistry matches up with hers,” the woman said. “It’s like
magic. The draw is almost impossible to ignore.”

Mary snorted in disagreement. “Right.”

She shifted in her tiny booth. This pseudo psychologist claimed women had no control over their
minds, their bodies. What complete and utter tripe.

“There’s a biological imperative why women find men with broad shoulders, significant height,
and an ... ahem ... obvious sexual prowess a turn on. He’s probably a good provider, a protector,
and he’ll give her strong children. Like it or not, the primitive brain responds that way.”

Mary grimaced. Yeah. Sure. Her hormones responded over and over to the wrong man, damn it.
Admitting it didn’t come easy, and she refused to start. Who wanted reality when Thanksgiving
came in three weeks, and she could hide from the rest of the world and enjoy peace and quiet?
She could, on the whole, forget hustle and bustle and pretend the world outside didn’t exist, as
she had for a few moments drinking her glass of red wine and enjoying dinner. Louis’s Bar was a
far cry from a pub atmosphere. This place ... well, it didn’t fit Gold Rush, Colorado’s small city
ambiance. Young studs and studettes gravitated to this place as an alternative to sedate meals at
home or in a local diner. For that much, she felt grateful. This place bustled with an energy in
which she needed to lose herself entirely.

“Men respond to women they see as good breeders,” the television psychologist said. “Hence,
the reason why blondes have more fun.”

Her mouth dropped open, and the last curly fry, which she’d anticipated with such relish, didn’t
sound so delicious anymore. Blonde hair is indication of being a good breeder? More ridiculous
folderol, as her maternal grandmother would have said.

Mary gazed at her hamburger. She’d eaten her enormous burger and fries with complete, guilt-
free relish. She’d craved iron all day, well aware her “eat it before it gets away mentality” was
motivated by exhaustion and working overtime for a week. It explained her snarky reaction to
the television psychologist, her ’tude about work, and her bone-aching desire to head home and

rewrite her resume. It also explained her compelling desire to toss one certain man right on his
gorgeous ass and tell him to find a life that didn’t include annoying her with his sexual vibes.
Prowess. Whatever the heck the psychologist on television had said.

She shoved aside her plate, satiated with red meat, and sipped her wine. Nothing like an alcohol
jolt to substitute for bravery. She needed courage if she hoped to look for a new job soon.
Spending part of her weekend designing a spiffy new resume didn’t qualify as enjoying herself.
Still, she must do it. Had to leave Gold Rush before his testosterone proved Amanda Prather
absolutely right.

And my willpower in the toilet.

Once out of Gold Rush, she could design a new life unhindered by male complications. She
could forget that this certain man had turned all her well-honed defenses on their ear.

Her luck didn’t last.

In walked her living, breathing definition of sex on a stick. The bane of her existence. The reason
she needed to run and run fast.

Dace “Hard Man” Banovic.

She almost groaned. She didn’t want to notice him, but she did anyway. Dace didn’t swagger,
but danger defined his walk, and confidence radiated from him. His muscular, rock-hard form
held all these qualities, and he didn’t have to say a word. Tall, dark, and handsome described him
superficially. No, he was all of those things and none of them, a dichotomy of textures and
uniqueness she’d find difficult to describe to anyone who asked. As he came closer, she drank in
over six feet of broad-shouldered masculinity. His pitch-dark hair had started to thin at the
temples, and this probably motivated him to keep it military short. This took nothing away from
the striking symmetry of his nose and penetrating grey eyes. A scar, just noticeable above his
right eyebrow, added a tough man look women seemed to find fascinating. As he headed toward
Mary, she knew he’d seen her. She couldn’t run from the law.

SWAT had come to take her away.

As he walked by tables, women looked up and admired, tossing glances at him and smiling. Of
course they’d notice him. After all, he defines all those things the television psychologist harped
about, doesn’t he? Still, a woman should be able to restrict her responses, control her physical
urges, by God.

Finally, Dace stood at her table and glared. He bristled with energy in his long-sleeved SWAT
uniform minus all the heavy-duty combat-like gear. But his gaze pinpointed on her, and she
glared back. As she opened her mouth to make a smart comment, he slipped into the opposite
seat. What reason would he have for glaring as if she’d committed murder?

She brought the merlot to her lips and took a leisurely sip. “What brings you here?”

“Coreen said you’re leaving Gold Rush.”

“You should never believe anything she says.”

His nose wrinkled, which didn’t flatter its aristocratic length one bit. “Coreen is a good
dispatcher.”

Mary’s teeth ached, thinking about the woman. “She can also be a bitch. She’s gorgeous, twenty-
five, and thinks you’re seriously hot. Which you’re not ... of course.”

“Now who is being the bitch?” The amusement in his eyes belied his words.

God, she hated it when he smiled, because two small dimples appeared in his cheeks and all that
kick-ass-and-take-names attitude morphed into a devastating combo she never could ignore.
How could one man contain that much testosterone and that much charm in one package? It isn’t
fair.

“She shouldn’t have told you,” she said in defense.

“Then I guess you should have known better than to let her in on your plans.”

“I didn’t. I think Hetty George in personnel spilled the beans.” She reached into her purse and
placed money on the table for her wine and dinner.

Dace grimaced as a new song blared over the speakers. “Damn it, how do you hear above this
shit?”

She smirked and touched her right ear. “What? I can’t hear you?”

“I said--damn it, never mind.”

Before she could take the last gulp of her wine, he stood. “Come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because we need to talk.”

Curious and a little annoyed, she slid from the booth. To her surprise he took her arm. His grasp
assured she’d follow, but he tempered his strength--his grip didn’t hurt. She grabbed her purse
and wool coat, and trotted along with him, trying to keep pace with his long-legged strides.
Unfortunately, people in the bar watched her and the cop exit the restaurant in a hurry. They
probably thought he’d placed her under arrest. Charming.

Once outside in the parking lot, he marched her straight past his car, which happened to have “El
Torro County Sheriff’s Department” plastered on the side.

“Am I under arrest, Officer?”

He steered her around a corner of the building under a not so bright streetlight. “No.”

Her boots hit a patch of ice and, with a startled gasp, she went down on her ass with a thump.

“Ah, shit!” Dace squatted next to her, his hand on her shoulder. “God, honey, are you hurt?”

Honey? He’d never called her that before, and the concern in his eyes took her off guard. When
she didn’t speak, he cupped his hand around the back of her neck and peered into her eyes, worry
narrowing his gaze. “Mary, are you hurt?”

His flesh against hers, something that she’d never experienced before, startled her into silence.
Unexpected heat generated in her belly, her breath coming quicker. Flustered by his attention,
she scrambled to her feet and out of his grasp. She dusted snow off her cold rump and leaned
over to reach for her purse and coat. “I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

“Peachy.”

His gaze sharpened, more assessing than ever.

She backed up against the brick wall, irritation and something far more potent and unpredictable
trembling in her belly. “You could have talked with me in the restaurant. Now everyone is going
to think I’m under arrest.”

He crossed his arms. “I don’t think you really care what other people think. Put your coat on.
You’ll freeze to death.”

She handed him her purse. “Here, hold this.”

He did as told while she struggled into her coat. She had trouble slipping into a sleeve. He
helped, efficiently holding that side of the coat. To her surprise he grabbed the lapels, pulled
them together, and started to button the coat. She almost batted his pesky hands away. His big,
nicely shaped, gorgeous male hands. Hands she’d imagined wandering over her body. Her face
heated.

“Gee, thanks, Dace.” She quirked one brow and looked at the purse dangling over his wrist as he
buttoned her coat. “You know, you really look good in that purse.” He grunted and handed it to
her.

His big frame loomed over her, but even in the low light Mary saw his hard expression. “I
couldn’t hear over that damned music. I didn’t even know you liked places like that.”

She shifted her small black leather organizer bag over her shoulder. “I don’t. But I’m also not
afraid of them like you are.”

“What?”

“You know. Slow dancing. Fast dancing. Any kind of dancing. Remember the party?”

He winced. “Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, come on. When you were invited you knew there would be dancing.”

“I didn’t see you dancing either.”

“Right. You remember that I had three dances with your friend Decker. I saw you glaring at us.”

“What does my dancing preference have to do with any of this?”

“I don’t know. I’m making civilized conversation despite the fact you dragged me out here like a
dishrag.”

A muscle in his jaw clenched, then released. “I didn’t drag you.” He was closer, his body so near
she felt the heat. Smelled his sinful, masculine aroma. “Decker is a putz. I was worried you’d get
involved with him.”

Surprise kept her silent for a moment, but she found her voice. “Why did you care? It’s not like I
wasn’t safe with him. After all, he’s a cop.”

“He wouldn’t hurt you physically, but I’ve seen women fall in love with his charm. He’s a false
bastard. I’d care about any woman getting involved with an asshole like Decker.”

She couldn’t argue. “Thanks, Dace.”

This time, she meant it.

His fingers brushed her cheek softly, then trailed down her arm with gentle heat. Even through
the coat, his touch ignited arousal. She shivered at the fire his touch created in her veins.

“Damn it.” His voice sounded rough. “When I took your arm in the restaurant, I didn’t hurt you,
did I?”

Sincerity rolled off him in waves. She heard it and felt it. His scent, a warm musk and leather,
tingled in her belly and warmed her from the inside out. Primal feelings engulfed her. When he
came so near and smelled so good, she could eat him up with a spoon.

She squeezed his biceps gently in a conciliatory move. “You didn’t hurt me. Just pissed me off.”

“Good.”

“Why did you come looking for me?” she asked.

“Because of what Coreen told me.”

“You couldn’t have just talked with me at work on Monday?”

“Hell, no. After I saw your car in front of this place I knew it couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Tell me why we’re standing out here when snow is starting to fall.”

Wind swirled small flakes under the eaves of the building, then a huge gust blew by. Still, this
part of the building gave them significant shelter from the encroaching storm.

“Tell me why you’re leaving the sheriff’s department.”

The feral concentration in his eyes probed in the way a cop could excavate the darkest secrets
from any criminal.

“Mary?”

“It’s time for a change.”

“Everyone needs change occasionally. But I didn’t think you were unhappy at the sheriff’s
department.”

“It’s not the station so much.”

He moved closer, and the intimate distance sent her pulse into a riot. Damn that psychologist.
She is friggin’ right.

“What then?” he asked.

“Dace, I’ve worked at the department two years.”

He shrugged. “That’s not a long time.”

She threw her hands up. “Back in Chicago I was an administrative assistant forever. Twelve
years at the police department in Chicago, then two years here. I’m tired of doing what I should
and not what I want. I’m thirty-five. The years are moving forward, and I’m running to catch
up.”

“So what? I’m thirty-five, too. You act like you’re out of time.”

“All of us are. None of us knows what could happen tomorrow.”

He cleared his throat and discomfort crossed his features. “Look, if this has any connection to
what happened to your father all those years ago, I’m sorry. Something like that can screw up
your mind for a long time.”

She almost lashed out with hard words, unreasonable anger rushing forward. “It’s complicated.
Where did you hear about my father?”

“Lakeisha.”

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “Damn this town and the gossiping. She shouldn’t
have said anything.”

“I asked her. I heard you say something several months ago that intrigued me. I held off a long
time until curiosity got the better of me.”

Mary opened her eyes. “What did you hear me say?”

“You said you never wanted to have a relationship with a cop. Especially not a SWAT cop. You
want to tell me that, all those years working with the Chicago police, you never dated a police
officer?”

I can never do that. “Never.”

“Amazing.”

“All I had to say was no. Besides, not that many of them asked me out, and I sure didn’t ask any
of them out.”

Dace put his hands on his hips. “I asked Lakeisha if the police in some way had burned you.
That’s when she told me about your dad.”

She drew in a steadying breath. “Well, I guess I can’t be mad at her. I didn’t say the information
was a secret. I confessed to her about Dad when I was sharing a very large bottle of white wine
at a girl’s night out.”

His mouth twitched in amusement. “Yeah, she said that’s what happened.” He cleared his throat.
“But I’m sorry about your dad. That had to be rough.”

“I don’t feel the burn that much anymore.” She sighed. “But it reminds me every day walking
into the sheriff’s department why working for law enforcement might not be the best idea for
me.”

Another one of those charming grins touched his mouth long enough to disarm her. “You seemed
like you were having a crappy night that evening at the police officer’s charity ball.”

She remembered. Boy, did she remember. “My date wasn’t the best time I ever had.”

“Oh?”

“He talked about himself all night.” She sighed. She didn’t want to talk about the multitude of
bad blind dates she’d had over the years, so she started another subject. “You looked quite happy
at the ball.”

Those crazy-making dimples appeared as he smiled. “It was okay.” He grunted. “Janny slipped
me her phone number.”

She didn’t want to think about him finding comfort in any woman’s arms the night of the police
officer’s charity ball. But honestly, she couldn’t blame women for drooling over him. He
possessed that raging testosterone thing most men in SWAT had--they couldn’t help it. Their
jobs demanded it.

“As long as you didn’t slip her anything.”

Oh, crap. I used my out loud voice.

His eyes widened a bit, and then he chuckled. “Why would you care?”

Heat flooded Mary’s face as she tried to think of a way to salvage her huge, revealing statement.
“Well ... I don’t. I just hear that her boyfriend is the jealous type.”

Dace rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t slip her anything. I wasn’t interested. So you didn’t
see that guy again?”

“He’s long gone.” She pulled the itchy coat collar down away from her face. “At least I learned
what a jackass he was that night.”

His jaw tightened as anger sparked in his eyes. “What did he do?”

“Pawed me when I didn’t want to be pawed.”

Oops. Wrong thing to say.

Dace’s eyes narrowed, danger coiling his hard, tall body. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. No. He kissed me and took me by surprise. Then when I said I didn’t feel that way about
him, he yanked me into his arms and kissed me again anyway.”

“Son of a bitch. What an ass.”

“Yeah, he is.” She grinned, wanting to defuse his outrage. “I kneed him in the cojones.”

She expected him to smile. He didn’t. His mouth twisted. “I ought to go over to his house and--”

“Whoa. Whoa there, cowboy.” She gripped his biceps on impulse and solid muscle moved
beneath her fingers. “Take it easy. He never bothered me again after that. Besides, he’s left town
for greener pastures.”

He drew in a deep breath. “Sorry. It pisses me off to think of any man hurting you in any way.”

To Mary’s horror, the idea that he could feel this worked up on her behalf sent her hormones into
overdrive. Whether she liked it or not, her breath became shorter, her body warmed until she
couldn’t feel the chill wind swirling around her ankles.

“I need a grown-up relationship with a grown man. Not a man wannabe.”

“There are real men in Gold Rush who want a grown-up relationship.” His gaze centered on her
lips, then glided with heated hunger over her breasts and back to her eyes. “You’re a grown-up.
Most definitely.”

Flashfire arousal warred with indignation inside her. “Mentally, Dace. I need to find my way.”

“Sure, I understand that, too.” He scratched his chin. “Do you have another job lined up?”

Curiosity led her to her own question. “Why are you so interested in what I do, Dace? We’ve
only known each other six months. It’s not like we’re friends...”

“What?” His cop hardness came to the forefront. “Of course we’re friends.”

“I’m leaving Gold Rush entirely, not just finding a new job.”

His eyes widened a fraction. Enough to tell her she’d thrown him a one-two punch. “Why?”

“Because this town doesn’t have what I need anymore.”

“Maybe you haven’t looked hard enough.”

She gritted her teeth, then poked him in the chest. Her index finger met the unforgiving hardness
of bulletproof vest backed by solid muscle. “You know, that’s one thing that irritates me, Dace
Banovic. You’re always splitting hairs. A person can’t ever be right around you, can they?”

His mouth popped open, but then he slammed it shut. Good. She’d silenced him for once.

“I need to go.” She pushed one hand through her hair. She shivered as cold wind snaked up her
pantyhose-clad legs.

“I just...” Uncertainty flickered through his eyes.

The radio on his shoulder squawked, and with efficiency he reached for the microphone and the
dispatcher relayed a mission.

“Ten-four,” he said into the mike, his voice crisp and business-like, “responding.”

“Old man Douglas is at it again?”

“He’s barricaded himself in that trash heap he calls a house. Damn the old bastard.” Dace shook
his head. “I’ll talk to you later.”

She started to walk away. “See you.”

“Wait.”

She halted at his cop-in-command voice and turned back.

One hand on his holster, he gave her a keen look. “Be careful. The roads are getting slick.”

She saluted. “Aye, aye, sir.”

He smiled and shook his head at her mocking tone.

As he walked toward his car, she headed to hers. As always, Dace had left something unsaid. It
seemed all their aborted conversations ended this way. Things hanging in the air. Emotions
bubbling right below the surface. Thoughts and feelings dangling like promises never fulfilled.

Chapter Two

“You look jumpier than hell,” Kelso “Freelance” Johnson said to Dace as they walked into the
sheriff’s department after a long day patrolling the county. “You need to take a chill pill. You
look like you’re ready to punch someone’s lights out, and it’s only Monday.”

Dace relaxed his jaw, well aware the day’s work had brought his patience to the breaking point.
“That last gig frosted my cookies. I’m tired.”

“You look like crap on a stick.”

Dace turned an evil eye on his rangy partner. “Gee, thanks.”

“You need to relax. Take a tip from me. Call up a woman in your little black book and find some
lovin’.”

Dace laughed, some of his tension easing. “You are so full of shit, Kelso. As if I have a little
black book.”

His friend’s consistent mommy syndrome shouldn’t bother Dace, but today all Dace wanted was
to head home, crash on the couch to watch some sports and then sleep. A dull, ordinary evening
sounded good.

Kelso scrubbed a hand over his espresso dark skin and then over his Brillo Pad hair, cut military
short. “I’m serious, dude. When was the last time you had a date?”

“Date?” Dace snorted. “What’s a date?”

Kelso glared. His piercing black eyes scared almost everyone. He didn’t mean to intimidate the
innocent, but his military background gave him a sharp edge. He’d given up a promising
basketball scholarship in college to join the marines, then moved to a law enforcement career and
found his niche. Dace considered him a great friend, even if Kelso did irritate the hell out of him
sometimes.

“You know what they say,” Kelso said. “Use it or lose it.”

“You’re saying if I don’t dip my wick occasionally it’ll fall off?”

Kelso pointed at him. “You got it.”

Dace rubbed the back of his neck. “Your sister is pretty hot.”

“You are not getting anywhere near my baby sister.”

“She’s thirty years old.”

“She’s still my innocent sister. Hands off.”

“I don’t think I’m her type anyway.”

“You’re damn right you’re not.”

Dace laughed.

Kelso headed for the locker room. “Your sudden state of mind wouldn’t have anything to do
with a certain administrative assistant, would it?”

Dace grimaced, startled by Kelso’s assessment and his own transparency. “No, it wouldn’t.
Where would you get that idea?”

Kelso waggled his eyebrows. “Come on. I know you ain’t that dense, sport.”

Dace frowned and followed him into the locker room. “Yeah, I am. What are you talking about?”

“Her. Mary Wickes. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No, I’m serious.” He clapped his hand on Dace’s shoulder. “If I’m noticing it then you know
everyone else is.”

Dace grimaced. “Fuck.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It isn’t like that.”

“Then why does it look so much like what it isn’t?”

“Is that supposed to even vaguely make sense, Kelso?”

The lanky cop shrugged as he started to put on a workout t-shirt and shorts. “Made perfect sense
to me.”

Dace hoped the conversation would end right here. But hell, no. He couldn’t be that lucky, could
he?

“See, it’s like this.” Kelso sat on a bench and grabbed his athletic socks from his duffle bag. “I
think you’re terrified. Worried Miss Goody-Goody...”

“Miss Goody-Goody? She’s not--” Dace halted as a grin broke over his friend’s face. “You
fucker.”

“Made you say it. You claim not to know what the hell I’m talking about--or in this case, who
I’m talking about--then you jump right in to defend her. Let’s cut to the chase here.”

Dace closed his eyes a second and released an exasperated sigh. “What the hell is the big deal?
Why are you nailing my ass to the wall?”

“Shit, sport, if it was just liking then we wouldn’t be having deep psychological conversations
about your problem.”

“My problem?” Dace’s ire grew. “I don’t have a problem. She’s not a problem in any way. In
fact, she’s...”

“Yeah?” Kelso pulled on his socks and jammed his feet into his athletic shoes.

“Mary isn’t goody-goody. Hell, she’s...”

“Yeah, spit it out. You think she’s hot.”

Dace felt mighty itchy, an urge to run while he still possessed dignity. When Dace wouldn’t let
the words pass his lips, Kelso leaned forward and said in a lower tone, “Come on, dude. Give it
up.”

“I’m not going there.”

Kelso nodded, his expression bland. “I got it. You aren’t in touch with your feminine side.”

A bark of laughter jumped into Dace’s throat and threatened to strangle him. He managed to
stuff it before it roared out of control. “I’m not sure I have a feminine side.”

“Every man does.”

Patience running low, Dace pinned his friend with a stare. “Is there a point to all this shit you’re
shoveling?”

Fully dressed, Kelso closed his locker and stood. “Irene and I did this pretty dance around each
other for a good year before I pulled my head out of my ass.”

“Oh, is that what your problem is?”

“Don’t wait, Dace. Don’t let your past choke something good before it has a chance to grow.”

Dace couldn’t move and couldn’t say a word for a few seconds. “Mary isn’t like ... my past.”

“See? You can’t even say Gloria’s name. Isn’t that proof you’re still one hundred percent
screwed up? When are you going to let Gloria go and allow some happiness into your life? I
don’t know about you, bud, but when I’m old and grey I know Irene will be there to push my
wheelchair and tell more dumb jokes. And that’s the way I want it. I don’t want a life full of
regrets because I was too damned freaked to make a move.” Kelso started to walk away. When
he reached the locker room door, he turned around. “We still on for dinner tomorrow night?”

“You don’t think I’m going to let Irene waste a good lasagna on your sorry ass, do you?”

Kelso pointed at him again in his trademark smart-ass movement, “Didn’t think you would,”
before marching out with military straight cadence.

For six months Dace had worked with him, but felt as if he’d known Kelso forever. Kelso was
his partner on regular patrol, one of the few--and yeah, the proud--who worked the county as
SWAT. He’d trust the man with his life any day.

Friend or not, a man could rely on Kelso’s advice.

“Hell, no,” Dace said as he slammed his locker shut.

* * * *

“Can I help?” Mary asked as she watched Irene Johnson hurry around her ultramodern and
spacious kitchen Tuesday night.

Irene turned away from cutting and chopping near the sink and grinned. “Honey, it’s almost
done. Everything is in the slow cooker. All I’ve got here are veggies for the dip.”

“Are you sure?”

“You could open the Chianti.” Irene headed for the fridge, her long, black cornrow hair gleaming
under the lighting in the high ceiling. “Or you could wait and let Dace do it.”

Silence.

Mary swallowed her surprise. “Dace is invited?”

Irene turned a speculative look on her. “Sure. He’s Kelso’s best friend. Why wouldn’t he invite
him?”

“Um, I don’t know. I guess I just never...” Mary shrugged as heat filled her face.

Irene placed raw cauliflower, carrots, and other veggies on a crystal tray and added a bowl of dip
Mary had brought. “Is there something weird happening between you and Dace?”

Mary sank down on a chair in the breakfast nook, not knowing what was wise to say and what
she should keep to herself. “Nothing is going on with us.”

Before Irene could speculate out loud, the doorbell rang. She held up her wet hands. “Doll, could
you grab that for me?”

Mary slowed her steps as she walked through the brightly decorated modern living room. Not her
personal style, but attractive and befitting the Johnsons’ tastes. Right now, as she took each step,
time slowed. She sighed and reached for the doorknob. She had a sneaking suspicion that Irene
had invited her because Dace was invited. Irene didn’t know about the raging attraction Mary felt
for Dace, did she?

Dace stood on the concrete steps, his lips parting in obvious surprise before he snapped into his
usual hard-ass composure. Dressed in a thick black leather jacket and somewhat faded black
jeans and cowboy boots, he didn’t look quite so fierce. She tried to remember the last time she’d
seen him in civilian clothes. Two months ago at a department party. But, oh, he still looked
disgustingly, undeniably gorgeous. Every corpuscle in her body stood up and took notice, her
heart leaping.

He carried an array of flowers and a bottle of wine. “Hey.”

She stepped back. “Hi. Come on in.”

To her surprise, he cracked a devastating grin that transformed his face from cool and composed
to rakish and sexy. “Good to see you.”

Surprised by his open pleasure, she shut the door and followed him to the center of the living
room. “Good to be seen.”

Oh, Mary. Is that all you can think of to say?

“Hey, Hard Man, how’s it going?” Irene asked as she dried her hands, her welcoming grin
unmistakable. “Kelso is out in back.”

“Let me guess, he’s still working on your new deck.”

Irene rolled her gaze. “You got it. The man never quits. Even when it’s threatening to snow again
he’s out there shoveling and trying to make repairs. Crazy man.” Irene winked at Mary. “This is
what I get for letting my hormones rule me, Mary. I get a big ole lug of a cop.”

Oh, yeah. She could hear that pop psychologist Amanda Prather droning in her head about sexual
chemistry.

“I’ll haul his ass in here.” Dace headed for the kitchen counter. “But first, these flowers are for
you, and here’s the wine I promised.”

Irene came around the center island and gave him a big hug. Petite, she had to reach up quite a
ways to hug him. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I didn’t ask you to bring wine, though.”

“Kelso said he’d never turn down a good red when I insisted I bring something.”

Irene laughed. “Figures. Mary was about to open a bottle of Chianti to go with the lasagna. Tell
you what, help her with that, and I’ll go rescue my husband before he gets frostbite.”

As Dace removed his jacket, Mary found her voice and her manners. “Here, let me take that.”

He handed it to her, that gentle smile back on his face. She’d seen more of it in two days than she
had in the last six months. Not that she kept track.

The black leather jacket felt supple and warm from his body heat, and it held his special
masculine scent. She inhaled deeply. “This jacket is great. Where did you get it?”

“Gibson’s.”

She headed for the coat closet near the front door, caressing the leather with true appreciation.
Then she saw the stitching on the back. “SWAT.”

“Tyler Gibson insisted on making that for me after that incident last month.”

“When you walked in on that holdup?”

“Yep.”

Mary remembered too well how her heart had shot straight into her throat when she heard that
he’d walked into a dangerous situation without backup, a weapon, or his vest. He’d been off duty
and had entered the store without any idea a homeless man had commandeered the store. When
the man started shooting, Dace managed to tackle and take him down before anyone in the store,
including the homeless man, could suffer injury.

She slipped the jacket over a hanger and closed the closet. As she wandered back to the table in
the breakfast nook, he followed. “Something wrong?”

“I wondered what the full story was behind the jacket. I’d just never seen you wear it.”

“I don’t wear it much because I don’t want to flaunt it in front of the other SWAT members.
There’s a policy in the department against taking gifts.”

She nodded. “I know.”

He planted his hands on his hips, drawing attention to the red turtleneck sweater molding across
his hard chest. He shrugged. “Since I purchased the jacket beforehand, the sheriff didn’t see a
problem with the fact Gibson put ‘SWAT’ on the jacket.”

Concerned he might get the wrong idea, she said, “I never thought you’d done anything illegal.”

Relief filled his face. “One of the last things in the world I want...” He shook his head.

“What?”

“For you to think I’m a corrupt cop.”

His statement took her off guard, and she spoke without thinking. “I know you’re not a corrupt
cop, Dace.”

He set to work opening the bottle of Chianti. “Good.”

She slid the wine glasses toward him. “I would never think that way about you, Dace.”

She of all people should know.

The corkscrew stopped. His eyes warmed. “Thank you.”

Companionable silence gathered around them as he poured two glasses of wine. As they
snatched a couple of carrot sticks and sipped wine, she watched him covertly. “Sure is taking
them a while. I wonder what they’re doing out there?”

“Plotting,” he said after he’d swallowed a bite of carrot.

“Plotting what?”

Before he could reply, Irene and Kelso walked in from the backyard. On instinct Mary took two
steps away from Dace and then headed for the wine bottle to pour two more glasses. Irene and
Kelso threw sideways looks at each other, a knowing expression that fueled Mary’s
embarrassment. God, was she that transparent? Was Dace?

They headed toward the dining room and as Dace settled in to sit beside her, Mary felt like a
teenager with her first crush. But soon the guys started talking football, and when Irene started
talking about a new scrapbooking project she’d started this week, Mary started to relax.

“Dace, when did you say you were returning to Denver?” Kelso asked as he polished off a last
bite of cheesecake.

He leaned back in his dining chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “At Thanksgiving.”

Irene waggled her eyebrows. “Is the entire family going to be there?”

“Yep. All of them,” Dace said in a tone that made Mary pause.

“You have a big family?” Mary asked.

Dace grinned and rapped his hands against the edge of the table. “I’m the oldest of six brothers.”

“Wow,” Mary said, in awe.

“Are all of your brothers as tall as you?” Irene grinned widely. “What are you anyway, six foot
six?”

Everyone laughed.

Dace smiled. “My brother Douglas is six-foot-six. The rest of us are all around six-two and six-
three.”

Mary looked at the clock. “Oh, man, I can’t believe how late it is. And I’ve got so much to do
tomorrow. I’d better get home.”

Dace rose from his chair. “Me, too.”

After thanking Kelso and Irene for the delicious dinner, they gathered their coats and headed out
the door. They walked around to the driveway where they’d parked their cars, their breaths
puffing out in the thirty-degree weather.

Dace stopped next to her car. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Come over to my place. I have something to show you.”

She quirked one eyebrow. “Your etchings?”

His voice went low and husky. “Those, too.”

Her heartbeat quickened. “Dace...”

“I know. You don’t want to have anything to do with a cop in SWAT. I get that. Tell you what,
just come over. Don’t think of it as a date. Think of it as friendship, okay?” When she hesitated,
he continued. “Did they tell you that I was going to be here tonight?”

“Well, no. But you’re Kelso’s good friend, and I’m close with Irene.”

“Uh-huh. Have you noticed that they’ve started inviting us to a lot of events where it’s just you
and me?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“They’re matchmaking.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

She made a sound of disbelief. “What would make you think that?”

At first he didn’t say anything, then he leaned in closer. He lowered his voice. “Because Kelso
busted my chops yesterday and said I needed to get a life. He also said he’s seen the way I look
at you.”

For a full half minute, he assessed her thoroughly, his look so intimate Mary thought she’d
combust. Not only did his closeness make her crazy, but what he’d said blew her away. Hope
flared in her breast, then she squashed it. Are you insane, Mary? You don’t, I repeat, don’t want
to know him better, date him, do the two-backed beast with him. None of that. In that direction
lies heartache.

Serious, serious heartache.

“I decided I do need to get a life,” he said. “I also decided that six months was a damned long
time for me to walk around with a secret hard-on for you.”

She gaped in astonishment. Her face flushed. “You... I... No.”

“Yes.” With a smoldering intensity that melted her into her boots, Dace leaned one hand on the
car, bringing him into closer proximity. “Since I started work with the sheriff’s department I’ve
done my best to pretend I’m not attracted to you, and it isn’t working. When I pulled you out of

the bar, I was a coward. I couldn’t say what I felt. That I’m so attracted to you, I don’t want you
to leave town. I’ve been fighting this for six months.”

Floored, she couldn’t manage a word from her paralyzed lips. He could have dropped a depth
charge on her, and she couldn’t have budged.

At the same time, she wanted to kick his shin.

He’d fought six months to avoid being attracted to her? Holy, holy crap. She hadn’t imagined the
incredible connection between them. Something hot and deep ran between them, growing until
she felt it in her skin, in her breasts as they hardened to peaks. Her breath quickened, and a soft
stirring swirled in her lower belly. What he’d said--what he’d admitted--flipped every feminine
switch that television psychologist had mentioned. He defined everything in a man she loved and
hated. He had integrity, moral fiber, a great work ethic, a sexual aura that stoked her feminine
desires without him having to touch her. He was strong, and--face it--freakin’ sexy with a capital
F. He was stubborn, opinionated, and he made her crazy.

He leaned nearer, his head tilting slightly to the side. His gaze turned slumberous. Warm and
searching. She knew what he wanted. And, God help her, she knew what she wanted.

Neurosis and television psychologists be damned.

Slowly he slipped his arm around her waist.

Oh, he smelled so good, and as his body pressed against hers, her pulse rushed in her veins, and
her breath caught.

“Screw this.” His voice held a deep, husky tone that added to her arousal. “See me tomorrow
night as my friend. But don’t think of me as just a friend this one time.”

He leaned in and that was it. His mouth sealed deliciously over hers. His fingers plunged into her
hair and anchored her for his devouring. She gripped the collar of his half-open jacket and hung
on for dear life. His kiss drugged with a combination of tenderness and open hunger. One minute
she responded to his gentle tasting, then his tongue dipped and plunged. Mary moaned as his kiss
did things to her she’d never felt before. She pressed closer, eager to feel every hard line of his
body, to experience with all her senses his unyielding strength. His tongue caressed, tasting with
a rhythm so carnal that arousal spiraled like a top in her stomach. She made soft whimpering
sounds in the back of her throat and responded with everything she had, returning the caress of
his lips and tongue.

“God.” He drew away, his arms releasing her as he stepped back, his eyes glazed with passion.
“That was amazing.”

Her head seemed to float away, her pulse hammering, her heart banging away in her chest. She
ached with desire. “It was.”

“It’s freezing out here, but I can’t feel it. Tell me you’ll come over tomorrow night, okay?
Strictly friends, I promise.”

“Scout’s honor?”

His tossed her a grin. “I was never a boy scout.”

“Huh. That’s surprising. I mean, with the ability to make fires, shoot guns, hunt down meat for
the young’uns.”

He chuckled. “Damn, when you open your mouth some of the funniest stuff comes out of it.”

“Don’t it, though?” she asked, still flummoxed by that kiss.

Before she could run too far away, he tugged her into his arms once more.

“What are you doing?”

He looked fierce and tender. “Trying to sneak in one more kiss before I become just your
friend.”

And then she lost all ability to think of him as only a friend. She threw her arms around his neck
and plunged into the embrace without a thought. It felt right as his lips cajoled and tasted and his
tongue mated repeatedly with hers. Nope, a friend didn’t kiss like this. A friend didn’t allow his
touch to slide downward until he could cup her ass cheeks in a gentle grip. She wriggled against
his hips, and he groaned into her mouth.

He drew back and gasped. “That’s it. Let me go before I beg you to come home with me
tonight.”

Her eyes widened, and she smiled. “Let you go? You’re the one with your paws clamped on my
butt.”

Dace’s wicked mouth tipped up at the corners, a teasing gleam in his eyes. His fingers
compressed her flesh again and the arousal in her stomach tripled. “Yeah, I do, don’t I? So now
you know, Mary. I wasn’t kidding about that hard-on.”

She made a mock gasp of indignation. “Dace Banovic, is that how you got your call sign for
SWAT?”

He looked scandalized. “Hell, no. I got it because I’ve won the physical training test the last two
cycles in a row. I can outdo any of the other guys on the team.”

He managed to step back. She made the mistake of looking down and saw that long, hard column
of flesh pressing against his jeans. The teasing look in his eyes disappeared, leaving nothing but
the heated, undeniable desire of a man for a woman.

“Come over to my house tomorrow night instead,” she said. “I’m on safe ground there,”

“Safe ground?”

She drew in a deep breath. “Just humor me, okay?”

He rolled his gaze to the sky. “Okay. Your house first. Then you’re coming to my house the
night after that.”

She laughed. “You’re assuming that we’ll want to see each other after tomorrow night.”

“I know we will.”

She kept grinning. “All right. Six o’clock at my place. I don’t have any etchings, by the way.”

“I’m there.”

After she climbed in her car and drove off, she realized standing out in thirty degrees hadn’t
chilled her. Her body felt like it might combust given the chance. She was in such trouble, with
no hope of pretending that she didn’t want him.

Mary took a deep, shivering breath and gripped the steering wheel tightly. She could run from
him, say that she couldn’t be his friend without wanting him physically. She could admit to that,
and it didn’t matter because she’d shown him without a doubt she couldn’t ignore the attraction.
Maybe, just maybe, she could scratch the itch that had bubbled between them for six months.
Perhaps, tomorrow night, she could seduce him into seeing that sex one time would rid them of
the need.

A wild, unexpected quiver wracked her body. Oh, yeah. She could do that. Sex with Dace “Hard
Man” Banovic for one night. One pulse-pounding, heart-shaking, bed-rattling experience. Hell,
she knew that’s what it would be like with him. She felt it in her bones.

Mary didn’t need to be safe with him.

She could love him and leave him and then never worry about wanting Dace again.

Chapter Three

Mary was nervous as hell.

She stood up from her soft, comfortable blue chenille couch, her heartbeat thumping too
erratically as nerves threatened. For the fifth time she went to her bathroom and stood in front of
the mirror. Her hair somehow didn’t look right, but she’d be damned if she’d fiddle with it again.
When was the last time she’d spent this much time primping for a man? She felt insane and
obsessed.

She glared at her image. Her brown eyes looked slightly buggy, as if she’d been shocked by
something. Slightly tinted gloss plumped her lips, her mineral makeup covered her uneven skin
tone. Her unruly shoulder length ash brown hair hadn’t improved after she took the time to wash
it again when she came home. Damn, but she was allowing her attraction to Dace dictate too
much of what she did. Mary headed back to the living room and started the CD player. She put
on some jazz that screamed casual and not too sexy. Coffee was ready in case he wanted it,
which he always did at the office. Dinner was easy--she had fajitas bubbling in the slow cooker.
She could eat that whether Dace made it tonight or not.

He’ll make it. Don’t be silly.

Yep, she had it bad. Despite all efforts to remain nonchalant, to pretend this situation would stay
casual and uncomplicated, it sure as hell felt complicated. She went to her jewelry box and
replaced the casual sterling silver trinity knot on her right hand with a sparkly cushion cut citrine
ring she loved. It never failed to lift her spirits. She wore a lapis blue turtleneck with long
sleeves, and body hugging skirt that went all the way down to her calves. She loved it and it
loved her--the figure skimming style always caught Dace’s attention. Whenever, wherever he
watched her, she always felt his attention like a hot, lingering brush of skin over skin. Quaking
inside with rising anticipation, she took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

She felt like a young woman waiting for her first date.

How pathetic, Mary. Get a hold of yourself. Maturity, woman. Maturity.

She fidgeted as she returned to the living room and waited for Dace to show up. He’d called at
five forty-five to say he’d just arrived home and had to shower and shave. Work had tied him up
longer than expected. Now it was close to six-fifteen rather than the six they’d planned. She
knew this sort of thing could happen with cops. Yeah, she knew his situation, his occupation,
almost as much as he did.

Dad had made sure of that.

Resigned, she settled into a snug chair in the corner near the fireplace and switched on the lamp
nearby. She snagged an art magazine she’d tried to read three times in the last week. Why did
she have this restless energy, this perpetual desire to move? She’d never been this hyperactive
before moving to Gold Rush and working at the sheriff’s office.

Ten minutes passed, and when the doorbell rang she jerked in surprise. She tossed the magazine
on the footstool and almost trotted to the door as excitement popped like champagne in her
stomach.

She checked the peephole and saw Dace standing on the sidewalk, his gaze planted on the
peephole as if staring back. She grinned and unlocked the door. When she opened it, he smiled
broadly.

She gestured for him to enter. “That was quick. Come on in.”

His thorough gaze didn’t miss anything as he stepped into the apartment. Blame it on his cop
mentality. “Hey, I’m sorry I’m late.”

“A hundred lashes for you. Bad afternoon?”

“Nah. Just hectic.”

She closed the door and then he did the one thing she didn’t expect. His burning attention
coasted over her body with obvious admiration, and he stepped close. “God, you’re beautiful.”

She managed a strangled reply, his warm praise catching her off guard. “Thank you.”

Her shock wasn’t complete, though, until he leaned in and kissed her. He didn’t touch her
anywhere else, but he might as well have. A simple brush of his mouth over hers sent pinwheels
of lusty excitement darting everywhere. Almost as if he’d run his hands all over her body. He
pulled back before she could respond.

She flushed. “Um, would you ... could I take your coat?”

She took his leather jacket and hung it in the hall closet. When she came back, he was standing
by her fireplace perusing the few family photos gracing the mantle. Tonight he wore a grey
fisherman’s sweater and new jeans that molded his body attractively but not too tightly. Athletic
shoes graced his feet. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned to her.

“You have some great old photos here.”

She touched the antique pewter frame that protected a sepia photo of a cop. “My great-
grandfather. This was taken in Chicago in the twenties. This later photo is my grandfather in the
Chicago police department in the fifties.”

“So it was all in the family?”

“Except for me. Dad always wanted one of us to become a cop since he didn’t have sons to take
on the tradition.”

He leaned one elbow on the dark wood mantle. “Your sister didn’t want it either?”

Sadness rolled up and bit her with unexpected force. “Oh, my sister Teresa didn’t want it. But
she did it anyway.”

His brow furrowed in question, but she didn’t want to begin their visit on such a heavy note. She
moved toward the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready.”

He didn’t ask her to finish her sister’s story while they dished up the fajitas, and that suited her
fine. She didn’t want to rehash those memories. Sure, they remained in the back of her mind,
floating around and demanding notice on particular days.

They walked into the separate dining area and her pride and joy--an antique round table and
chairs she’d inherited from her parents. She’d covered it with a lace ecru tablecloth.

“I’ve been looking for a table like this,” Dace said as they settled across from each other.

“You’re kidding?”

“No.” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “Not something you expected me to say?”

“Hell, no.”

They laughed.

She pushed her hair behind her ears. “I always pictured you with a card table. No, a card table
with a yellow tablecloth spread over it. With a box of cop donuts on it.”

“I don’t eat donuts.” His clipped answer brought her up short. She caught the sardonic
amusement in his eyes. “I never thought you were into stereotypes, Mary.”

Shame spread over her face in a heat wave. She sighed. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t usually...”

“Put people into boxes to fit a particular mold?”

She shook her head with vehemence. “No. I never do. But I just did with you, didn’t I?” Her
voice drifted like a whimper, a drowning sound. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Maybe you don’t know because you’re used to it.”

“Used to what?”

“Defending yourself against anyone and everything.”

Stunned by the accuracy of his statement, she couldn’t speak.

Dace’s eyes sparked with amusement as he took a sip of non-alcoholic sangria. “I suppose that
isn’t the most manly thing a guy can say, is it? I mean, about an antique dining set.”

She scoffed. “You’re the most masculine guy I’ve ever met. Any woman who thinks otherwise
would have to be loco. Half the women at the Sheriff’s Department are in love with you.”

His eyes widened a bit and when she realized what she’d said, she bit her lower lip. At this rate
he’ll think the cheese has really slid off my cracker.

He picked up his messy fajita and bit into it. Waiting for his response as he chewed just about
killed her. All the while, those damn entrancing eyes of his, with those thick lashes, sparkled at
her in pure enjoyment. The man had the audacity to look sexy even while eating some of the

world’s sloppiest foods. He wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin. “I’m flattered even if I don’t
believe it.”

“Come on, Dace. You can’t tell me a woman has never called you handsome before.”

For a second his eyes clouded. “One other woman did. And I guess I should be grateful it wasn’t
just my mother.”

She chewed away at her fajita before speaking. “Women, who will remain nameless, have told
me they all wondered where you got the name ‘hard man’.”

A wicked expression heated his eyes. “I told you the other day. It’s because I come out on top in
physical fitness tests.”

“I know that, but these women are all wondering ... you know...”

Damn it, Mary. Get a grip, girl.

“You felt what kissing you did to me, Mary. Was that hard enough for you?”

His statement, raw with husky vibrations, sent additional fire rolling through her loins.

“I’m sorry.” He sipped his sangria again. “I’ve embarrassed you.”

“No. Yes.” Her face heated like a candle. “But last night was great.”

Come on, Mary. Choke it out.

Before she could speak again, he broke in. “It was great. I want more of the same.”

Oh, hell. Just admit it. “Me, too.”

They ate in silence a short time before trundling out to the kitchen to make another fajita.

“Tell me more about your family,” he said.

Oh, no. She didn’t want to tell him. But how could she refuse without sounding rude? She
couldn’t.

He prompted her. “Show me your dysfunction and I’ll show you mine.”

Surprise made her shovel fajita fixings onto to her tortilla quicker than she might have otherwise.
“You didn’t grow up in a dysfunctional family, did you?”

He clasped the ladle as she turned it over to him. “Depends on your definition, I guess. My
parents divorced when I was only three, and my mother never remarried. My father had me every

other weekend and some holidays, and I love my stepmother, Maggie. She’s perfect for Dad.”
He put the lid back on the slow cooker and dug into the cheese, guacamole, and sour cream. “My
mother is a little jealous of Maggie, I think. All of us get together for Thanksgiving and
Christmas when we can. Last year I had to work both holidays, so I’m looking forward to
Thanksgiving with all of them this year. What do you do for Thanksgiving?”

Loneliness swamped her. “I do Thanksgiving alone every year.”

Mary stepped away before he could comment, and she headed back to the table with her plate.

He returned a few moments later and sat down, his gaze concerned. “I sense a story behind this.
You prefer being alone on holidays?”

“I’m alone for Thanksgiving.” Her throat tightened, and she took a sip of Sangria. “Christmas I
usually go to friends’ homes, but Thanksgiving is a no-no.”

His eyes narrowed. “Do you mind me asking why?”

If she wanted to have any kind of relationship with him at all, she’d have to cough up the reason.
“My dad died on Thanksgiving Day.”

Dace’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that part of it. So Thanksgiving is a
rough time.”

“It’s not rough for me.”

His attention snapped sharply to her. “Oh?”

Suddenly the rest of her fajita didn’t taste so good. “I haven’t talked about this in a long time.
Let’s finish eating and then sit on the couch. I’ll tell you all about it then.”

She knew stalling worked on many people, but also understood Dace wouldn’t stand for evasion
forever. A harder glint entered his eyes, as if he not only didn’t understand her coldness about
her father, but disapproved.

After they’d cleared away the dishes and placed leftovers in the refrigerator, they settled on the
couch. She kept a cold glass of sangria clasped between her hands. She stared into the red depths
like it was a crystal ball with all the answers before placing the drink on a coaster on the coffee
table.

Dace sat close, sprawled in a cavalier, male animal pose. His hands clasped over his stomach, his
head back on the couch, legs parted in typical masculine ease. Her gaze snagged on all that
gorgeous flesh, and what she planned to say snapped right out of her head.

“So your dad was a cop, your grandfather, and your great-grandfather. That’s quite a record.”

“Dad had twenty years in the force when he died. I was eighteen. I spent my whole life putting
up with him. That’s why I couldn’t feel bad about his death.”

Nothing like spilling it all out at once in an incoherent jumble.

“I know that sounds cold.” She almost reached for her sangria, almost wished she had spiked the
drink. “There’s a lot of history in my family you don’t know.”

“Tell me.” His voice was gentle, understanding. So much more accepting then she expected.
Dace’s eyes held a guileless, urgent need to hear her out.

“Dad wasn’t the best man in the world. In fact, he had a truckload of faults.”

“Such as?”

“He didn’t know how to cool down when he left work. He was sometimes biting and cruel with
his jokes. I never once heard him say ... that he loved me.”

She couldn’t finish, the harshness of acknowledging the past cutting too deep.

Dace reached for her right hand, his left covering her flesh in a warm, supportive grip.

He didn’t urge her to speak again, but he didn’t need to. She found her stride and continued.
“Dad was that way with Mom and with Teresa and me. Teresa was two years older than me.
Both of us tried to please him. We got into rivalries part of the time to one-up each other. Mom
didn’t try and stop the competition. After Mom died in a car accident, Dad got worse. He was
colder. Harder. The harder he got, the more Teresa tried to please him. She earned her criminal
justice degree and became a cop. By that time I’d just started college and was studying art. Dad
hated that. Said it wasn’t practical and I’d starve. He was right about the starving part, and I
discovered I wasn’t a very good artist, too.”

Dace smiled a bit, his handsome mouth taunting her into a grin of her own. “Sounds like a hell of
a family dynamic.”

“That’s true. Teresa decided I’d never make Dad proud, so she took on the entire burden herself.
I think there was part of her that wanted me to fail. She was more like Dad than anyone in our
family. He never got over Mom’s death. He worked longer hours, and when Teresa was hired
into the police department, he reversed his sexist attitude about women cops. He put his pride
into her.”

Dace squeezed her hand gently, then brought it to his lips. “Let me see if I can guess where this
is heading.” He kissed her fingers, and the resulting tingle swirled low in her belly. “Dad decided
Teresa replaced the son he never had. He paid more attention to her than you. She ate it up. He
invested all his fatherly energy into her.”

“That’s it.”

He lowered her hand and pressed it to his left thigh. Hard muscle moved under her fingers.
“There’s more?”

“Lots more. Sure you want to hear it?”

He released her hand long enough to brush his index finger over her nose. “Absolutely.”

This time she reached for his hand, placing her smaller fingers over his much larger ones. She
needed his warmth, his support, to continue this story. “Teresa... She...”

He brushed back her hair. “Easy, sweetheart.”

Her fingers tightened on his. “Teresa made a big, big mistake one day on patrol in Chicago. Her
partner was injured because of it, and she was killed.”

Dace frowned, his lips parting and eyes filled with sympathy. “No one told me that part. I
thought the whole thing was just your father.”

“Teresa died a few months before Dad.”

Silence swallowed them as she stared at the light hardwood floor. Dace scooted closer, his arm
slipping around her shoulders to bring her into his side. His warmth soothed the steady ache of
memories she’d worked so hard to deny. She laid her head on his shoulder, and his arm
tightened.

“There’s more. Teresa and I didn’t know it, but my Dad started to gamble before she was killed.
He got into heavy debt.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly. He found trouble with some bookies, and he took bribes and, well, I think you know
the rest.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

She didn’t need to say it. Or maybe she did. Maybe part of her problem was she’d never
explained, refused to tell anyone. “After the internal affairs inquiry got hold of him Dad went
home one day and...” How would she say it out loud? How? “He went home, locked himself in
his car, and started it in the closed garage. It should have killed him.”

“He was a tough man.”

“Not in the way it counted. He made so many wrong steps, Dace. So many damned wrong steps.
When his friends wondered why he didn’t show up to a gathering, they found the car in the
garage and it had been running for some time. They got him out. He’d sustained a lot of brain
damage. Two weeks later I let the doctors pull the plug. I knew he was at peace then.”

“And in one way, so were you.”

It might have sounded callous to some, but she recognized the truth in his words. “I lost my sister
and my father all in one year.”

“I’m so sorry, Mary. I can’t imagine what that’s like.” He smiled ruefully. “Who am I kidding? I
can imagine, and it hurts like hell.”

She felt moisture on her cheeks and wiped at the tears. When she looked at Dace, she saw
support and understanding when she’d felt so afraid of what he might believe, what he might
think.

His acceptance sparked a healing balm in her heart. Through another sheen of tears, she tried to
take a deep breath. He kissed her forehead, her nose, with a tiny brush of affection.

How could she deny his insight when it revived her own? “You’re right. Sometimes it still hurts
like hell.”

“In some ways you’re still trying to escape your father’s legacy, aren’t you?”

She drew back a tiny space. “What?”

“You want to forget what happened in your family.”

“Of course.”

“That explains where you’ve been avoiding me for six months.”

Puzzled, she stared at him like he’d lost his head. “I don’t understand.”

His palm spread over her upper back rubbing up and down. “You don’t want to get involved with
me because I’m a cop. But there’s a part of you that secretly wants it. You wouldn’t be working
with cops if you didn’t like them in some way. You’re confused.”

He’d hit the proverbial nail on the head, and she didn’t like it. Maybe she shouldn’t have done
this ... shouldn’t have invited him into her home to ferret out her secrets. After all, they were
secrets for a reason.

She eased out from under his arm and stood. Mary scanned her cozy apartment, with the touches
of Chicago, of her life back in the big city. “I came to Gold Rush because I wanted to leave
Chicago.”

Dace rose and stood beside her, not touching, not speaking. Burning with curiosity and hope and
a simmering attraction that never seemed to diminish, his gaze spoke volumes.

“Thanks for listening.” She impulsively reached up to cup his face and drew his head down so
she could kiss his cheek. “But I’m leaving Gold Rush soon. I need a fresh start.”

“If you wanted to change jobs, you could. If you wanted to make things new in your life, you
could. But there’s more to this. If you weren’t attracted to me and I wasn’t attracted to you, I
could understand.” He slid his arms around her waist and brought her into his body. “If we didn’t
feel this wild thing between us I’d say good luck and find another job in another city. But you’re
trying to run away again, and I don’t want you to go.”

Mary flattened her hands against his chest, half-tempted to push away. “Why do you want me to
stay?”

His voice lowered, went husky with emotion, his eyes full of purpose. “I’ll show you why.”
Dace’s hands tunneled into her hair. He tilted her face up and kissed her.

Oh, my. Fierce with hunger, his kiss demanded. His tongue plunged deep, hot and searching. She
felt devoured, craved in a primal way that went beyond the stirrings she’d experienced with other
men. Her breasts tightened, her nipples tingled. Whether she wanted it or not, he turned her on.

When he drew back, yearning burned in his eyes. “Tell me you don’t want me, Mary.”

“I don’t want to want you.”

He grinned slowly. “But you do?”

“I do.”

She circled his waist with her arms. His satisfied smile faded into soul-searing need once more.
He dove in for another kiss. With a self-assurance she hadn’t known earlier, she returned his
searching, passionate kiss. She responded when his tongue touched hers, expressing the latent
feelings she’d bottled up for way too long. He feasted, his touch touring downward until she felt
the weight of his hand just above her left breast. A whimper escaped her throat as the toe-curling
arousal shifted, grew, demanded more from her.

Dace’s cell phone rang. He pulled back and released Mary from his embrace. “Damn it.”

The spell was broken.

Dace released Mary and reached for the cell phone on his belt, pacing away as he answered the
call.

“Damn. Really?” Dace said into the phone. “Okay. I’ll be right there.” After he hung up, he
turned to her. “Kelso just called. Two of the guys are down with a bad stomach bug, and there’s
a call out for SWAT over at an apartment building.”

Disappointment made her sigh. She’d planned to seduce him with just a little bit more time, then
he’d sidetracked her into revealing a sad section of her history. She walked toward him and put
her hand on his forearm. “Is this town going to the dogs lately or what?”

“This week it is.” He returned her grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What can you do?”

He leaned in to taste her thoroughly. His kiss held heat and promise. “I’ll make it up to you.
What about tomorrow night at six? My house this time?”

Part of her wanted to say no, because she remembered how it had been for her mother when her
father had to miss out on so much.

“Mary?” His voice lowered, his eyes concerned.

“Sounds great.” She winked. “But I’m holding you to that promise, bud.”

She expected him to laugh or grin, but instead he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Oh, yeah.
I’ll cover my promise. And more.”

When he left, the searing memory of his lips sustained her and fueled fantasies for the rest of the
night.

Chapter Four

Mary felt Dace down into the marrow of her bones, the sensation visceral and her senses alive
with possibility. How or why she had this radar for his presence, she didn’t know. When he
walked into the administration section that Thursday afternoon, her entire body reacted on reflex,
with a puzzling series of sensual keynotes she couldn’t stop.

Other employees in their area were at lunch, and that left Hannah Curry and Mary alone.

He nodded, his gaze warm and appreciative, but his face neutral. “Hi, ladies.” He handed Mary
paperwork collected in a file. “Back to you, as promised.”

Their fingers brushed with the barest of touches, and she thought she’d never get her breath.
“Thanks.”

He grinned and a low, heated stirring came to life inside her. Wow. Another indication of how
dangerous he’d become to her composure. Soon she’d start purring like a cat when he appeared.
When he left the area, she reached for her diet soda.

“Wow, that man is hot.” Hannah’s gaze trailed after Dace. “Just once I’d like to find out what it
would be like to sleep with him.”

Mary almost choked on her drink as a snorting laugh left her throat. She coughed once and
smiled at her co-worker. Then, full-on jealousy arose. No, no, no. She couldn’t be jealous of
something she didn’t have. Could she?

Hannah pushed her silver-framed glasses higher on her nose. At twenty-five, she always showed
a poised, outwardly uptight demeanor that made her seem considerably older. But Mary had
learned that appearances, where Hannah was concerned, were decidedly unreliable. Her uptight,
high-collared dresses and conservative shoes hid a sassy personality.

Hannah’s green eyes glinted with naughtiness. “I think he’s the most gorgeous guy on SWAT. I
mean, the Justice brothers are awesome, but there’s something so sexy about Dace. You know.
Dark and dangerous and unpredictable.”

She knew all right. The Justice brothers, Mick, Trey and Craig MacGilvary were an interesting
trio. Adopted many years ago by a SWAT team member when they were teens, the three boys
were as close as any blood brothers could be. Dace, though... Well, Dace had something extra
Mary had difficulty resisting.

Hannah grinned. “Do you ever wonder how Dace got that handle of ‘hard man’? Rumors say it’s
because he’s ... uh ... hard everywhere.”

Another spurt of jealousy swamped Mary. The thought of other women touching his body,
making love with him burned her cookies. “He’s a highly-trained law enforcement officer who
has to stay in shape, and before that he was in the marines. It’s not like he’ll let himself go to pot.
He told me he got the name from winning the fitness tests.”

“I dunno.” Hannah cracked a grin. “Remember Sanders? He just got a butt kicking from the
sheriff for gaining too much weight.”

“Oh, goody.”

“Probably explains why ‘hard man’ has looked crabby lately. With Sanders’s ass in a loop and
two guys down with the flu, that makes the SWAT team short three men. Oh, well. Whatever.
All I can say is that I’d give just about anything for one night with Dace. He looks like he’d be
fantastic in bed.”

Mary almost swallowed her tongue. She forced her next words from her throat. “Then why don’t
you ask him out?”

“Moi? Surely you jest?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Humph. Don’t tell me you haven’t wondered about what he’d be like in bed?”

She had. Endlessly. Especially since they’d shared powerful kisses. Maybe, if everything worked
out tonight, she’d know the answer once and for all. The mystery would be solved and the
craving quenched.

Hannah grinned and started typing at her computer. “I’d like to strip all that equipment off him
and see what he’s hiding under his shirt. Haven’t you ever wondered?”

Oh, she had all right. Wondered and fantasized and imagined into the deep, dark corners of the
night until she was hot and unsatisfied. “I’ve never seen him without his shirt.”

Hannah’s fingers flew over the keys, then she stopped. Behind the glasses her eyes looked big.
Pretty and sparkling, but almost owlish. “Neither have I. God, you don’t think he’s gay, do you?”

Mary made a scoffing sound. “No way.”

Hannah frowned and pinned her with a no-nonsense look. “How do you know he’s not gay?
Have you ever seen him date since he started work here?”

The small sheriff’s department station, thank goodness, didn’t have too many people running
around at this noon hour. No one would overhear this outrageous conversation.

“I don’t know for sure, but the way he looks at women tells me he’s not gay.”

“Yeah?” Hannah winked. She tilted her head to the side and dishwater blonde hair slipped over
her shoulders. “Does that mean he’s looked at you that way?”

“Ahem. Ladies, do you have a minute?” Captain Sherry Carmichael walked into the
administration section, her tight military bearing attesting to ten years in the Air Force and
another ten in the Sheriff’s Department. “A storm front is coming in again.” Sherry shifted and
her leather holster creaked. “The sheriff is stuck clear across town at a meeting, but he just called
in and said non-essential personnel should head home before all hell breaks loose.”

Outside, as if Mother Nature had heard the captain’s words, the wind escalated to a bone-chilling
howl. Snow whipped across the windows. Late afternoon turned darker by the minute.

“Whoohoo!” Hannah twirled her chair in a circle. “This is a great way to end a week. Off early.”

Sherry smiled. “Get outta here before I change my mind.” She strode out the door.

As Mary shut down her computer, Hannah groaned.

“Something wrong?”

“I forgot. My car won’t be out of the shop until later today. Sandy over in dispatch planned to
give me a ride over to the repair place. But she’s essential personnel. She won’t be leaving
early.”

Mary reached for the desk drawer to retrieve her purse. “No problem. I can drop you off at the
garage. Give Sandy a call.”

“Oh, thank you. That would be great.”

Before too long they jumped into Mary’s blue Ford Focus and headed down the main drag. Few
people lingered on the streets. She knew Dace would work through the weather--cops didn’t quit
because snowstorms came along. She sighed with disappointment. If this snowstorm
materialized, she wouldn’t make it over to his house tonight for a friendly conversation.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

She really, really wanted to get together with him in every way possible.

Once she scratched this crazy itch for him, she’d be happy.

Though a local rock station blared music in the car, and Hannah sat beside her, Mary chafed at
the isolation she felt. Thanksgiving wasn’t far away. She’d weathered the loneliness before, but
this year it hit her stronger, was more gut-wrenchingly precise. God, she didn’t want a pity party,
but with the festive, cozy air of a winter storm in the air, it would have been nice to have a
family waiting at home for her. A wild vision entered her head of Dace coming home to her, a
smile on his face.

She’d planned to spend the long Thanksgiving weekend alone, enjoying the peace and quiet. She
wouldn’t deviate from that plan now or get herself worked up thinking about Dace in an
impossible future.

“Something wrong?” Hannah asked.

“Not a thing.” Liar.

Just outside of town, Dixie Miller’s old, run-down garage rose up at the end of a dirt road
surrounded by pine trees.

“I wonder if DK is home.” Hannah’s voice oozed with derision.

“God, I hope not. He’s just too creepy.” A shiver raced over Mary’s skin. Snow came down
heavier, and a gust of wind battered her small car.

“Maybe one of the other guys in the shop will be there. I like dealing with them better.”

She couldn’t blame Hannah’s reaction to Dixie’s good-for-nothin’ boomerang son. Awkward,
petty, argumentative and in serious need of some medication, the forty-five year old man had
lived with his mother for ten years. He claimed it was to look out for his widowed mother.

“At least he’s a good mechanic,” Mary said as they pulled into the driveway.

Several cars resided in the front lot, maybe repaired and ready for owners to return.

“Hmm, that’s weird.” Hannah pushed her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “There aren’t
any lights on in the shop.”

“Or the house.”

“I don’t see my car out front.” Hannah sighed. Mary parked and Hannah left the car. “I’ll be
right back.”

Mary waited, her thoughts swirling around when and if she’d see Dace. Man, she couldn’t
believe how fast he’d wormed his way under her defenses, how he made her forget her past.
Okay, she hadn’t forgotten her past at all. That’s why she needed to sleep with Dace, get him out
of her system, realize what she felt for him couldn’t be anything but temporary. Satisfied that
she’d seduce him one way or the other before Thanksgiving, she smiled.

Her cell phone chirped and made her jump. She dug around in her purse and answered on the
third ring. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Dace?” She couldn’t mistake that sexy voice for anyone else.

“You expecting another guy to call you?”

She heard the teasing in his voice. “Would it bother you if I said yes?”

“Yeah. It would. But it shouldn’t. I’m only your friend, remember?”

Dace, jealous? Those treacherous, wild feelings dancing inside her blossomed to full life. “So
what’s up?”

“This storm. I heard you’ve been let go early.”

“And not a moment too soon. I’m over here at Miller’s shop waiting for Hannah to pick up her
car.”

“Be careful. The roads are already getting slick. Call me when you get home so I can be sure
you’re safe.”

“I will. You’re very sweet to care.”

“Of course, I care. Listen, I don’t know if I’ll even get off shift on time to see you tonight.”

“I expected that might be the case.” She sighed. “Oh, well. Such is life, eh?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you driving in this later tonight anyway. If I do get off I could stop by
your place.” Soft, husky vibrations filled his voice and stroked over her skin like a gentle touch.
“That is, if you want me to.”

“Oh, yes. That would be great. I could make us some dinner.” Her eyes snapped open. “Dace,
I...”

She stopped cold as Hannah walked out of the front door, DK Miller’s arm locked around her
neck, a gun pointed to her head.

For what seemed an eternity, Mary couldn’t register what she saw in front of her. Until she heard
Dace’s voice prompting her, and a cold, cold fear iced over her soul.

“Mary? Are you there?”

“Oh, my God.”

“What?” His voice turned sharp and hard. “What is it?”

Before she could speak, Miller pointed the weapon in Mary’s direction and fired.

* * * *

Dace heard the crack of gunfire and glass shattering, and jerked the phone from his ear at the
piercing sound. He’d just walked out of the convenience store toward his squad car when Mary’s
shocked and frightened exclamation had stopped him dead outside the doorway.

He gripped the phone and put it back to his ear. “Mary!” When he didn’t get an answer he
dashed toward the squad car as fast as he could without falling on the ice. “Mary, answer me!
Are you all right?”

He heard another gunshot, then a scream. Never in his years as a deputy sheriff or a United
States Marine had his soul filled with dread as it did in that moment. “Mary!”

No answer. He switched the cell phone to his other ear, yanked open the police cruiser door, and
jumped inside.

“What the fuck is going on?” Kelso asked sharply, his eyes hard with concern.

“Something’s happened to Mary. She took Hannah over to Miller’s to get her car. She said, ‘Oh
my God,’ and then I heard a gunshot.”

“Son of a bitch!” Kelso slammed the car into gear and roared out of the parking lot, back tires
fishtailing on snow and ice, siren blaring.

Dace called in the situation to dispatch and they alerted SWAT. He kept the cell phone to his ear
and tried periodically to get an answer from Mary. The line went dead.

“God, Kelso.” Dace swallowed hard. “If anything’s happened to her...”

He couldn’t finish.

Kelso drove as fast as he could without wrecking the cruiser. “She’s fine. She’s going to be
fine.”

His heart wanted to stop. To seize with the terrifying possibility that Mary could be seriously
hurt or ... God, no ... dead. “If someone’s hurt her, I swear to God...” He swallowed hard again.
“I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”

“I’ll help.”

Before he knew it, they reached the edge of town and Kelso switched off the sirens. Other units
would approach in the same way.

“We’re almost there.” Kelso took a turn a little fast and the tires squealed. “We’ll hang back and
wait for the others.”

Then a report came over the radio that terrified Dace. “Unit eight, this is base. DK Miller’s
cousin Vincent just got a call from DK. He’s holding two hostages. And he shot his mother.”

Dace hit the dash with his fist. “Fuck.”

“I’ll second that,” Kelso said.

Dace grabbed the hand mic. “This is unit eight. Are there any report of injuries to anyone other
than Miller’s mother?”

“Unit eight, no confirmation.”

Dace’s throat felt as if someone was trying to hang him with a noose. “Ten-four, base.” Dace put
the mic way. His gut churned. “Son of a bitch.”

“Easy, buddy. We don’t have a clue yet what’s happening. Hang in there.”

“Damn it.” Dace’s voice sounded harsh even to his own ears. “You’d feel the same if it were
Irene.”

Kelso let out a hard breath. “Of course, I would.”

Dace clenched his fists, his breath coming too hard. He drew in one deep breath and then another
to calm the rage threatening to loosen his training and blow his control. Nothing mattered more

than racing to Mary. Nothing mattered more than extracting her from the situation and holding
her safe in his arms. He had to wrestle his emotions under control.

Snow came down relentlessly, but at least it hadn’t reached blizzard conditions. They stopped far
enough away from Miller’s that no one inside the property could see them. They jumped out of
the car and opened the trunk. Quickly and efficiently they put on the necessary SWAT gear,
preparing for the situation. Dace and Kelso grabbed their MP5 weapons and made certain they
were ready. Within a shorter time than even he expected, four other cruisers arrived with
additional team members, followed by a hulking SWAT mobile command station.

Tension bunched Dace’s muscles as he waited while two snipers prepared to take positions
around the perimeter and report intelligence.

Kelso put his helmet on and secured the chinstrap. He clasped Dace’s shoulder. “She’s okay,
dude.”

“Damn straight.” Dace would make it happen if it was the last thing he did.

* * * *

“Move it.” DK waved his gun at Mary and Hannah as he urged them toward the garage front
area.

Mary walked into the garage office followed by Hannah. DK brought up the rear. Mary’s heart
thumped an anxious beat, her stomach tumbling and aching. Nausea threatened.

“Walk faster.” DK’s voice went rough and crackling.

Mary obeyed without question--she knew by the strange light in his eyes that he meant business.

She wished to hell she hadn’t dropped her cell phone in the car when he’d pulled the trigger.

At least Dace knows something is wrong. He must have heard when DK had pointed and shot.
Had she screamed? She didn’t think so. She kept replaying the horrific moment on an endless
loop. When DK had come to the driver’s side with Hannah in tow and threatening to kill them
both, she thought her heart would stop.

It hadn’t, and now she had to deal.

She stopped in the main office area, and couldn’t suppress a gasp. “Oh, no.”

DK’s mother sat at her desk, head thrown back, mouth open. Her once white button-up long-
sleeved shirt was half soaked in red.

The red seemed alive. Pulsing.

That’s when she realized--

Mary’s breath caught in her throat. “She’s alive. DK, she’s alive. Let me help--”

“Shut up!”

DK’s brutal tone made her hair stand up. She tensed and waited.

DK’s enraged face eased into calm. Mary heaved a slow breath, her throat aching with tension. I
will survive this.

Hannah’s eyes went frantic. Her body shook. “Please don’t hurt us, DK.”

“I ain’t going to hurt you unless you disrespect me like that old bitch in the chair over there and
like everyone else in this town.”

Mary knew she had to keep this situation as calm as she could. “We respect you, DK. What is it
you want?”

His hair was cut seventies style, shaggy and peeking over his shirt collar. Grease streaked his
overalls. His thin, hawkish face reminded her of a cadaver. He’d lost considerable weight from
the last time she’d seen him. He looked far older than she knew he was.

“We have money.” Hannah looked as if she had a tight grip on the crazed man’s forearm. “If you
need it.”

He grunted and pulled Hannah to his side. “What I want is to die.”

A chill ripped up Mary’s spine. From what she’d learned working with law enforcement, this
meant DK had decided he had nothing to lose. This didn’t bode well for her survival or
Hannah’s.

“Let’s talk about this.” Mary kept still, conscious of not moving her hands or making other
sudden movements.

“Please let us go.” Hannah shifted in the man’s grip, her tone pissed but also shaky. “If you want
to hurt yourself, we can’t stop you, but please don’t use us to do it.”

“Bullshit.” He dragged Hannah toward the large picture window to the east side of the junky
office. “You wanna die, too, just keep talking like an idiot.” He placed her in front of him and
anchored his arm around her throat as her dragged her back against him.

“No.” Hannah’s squeak of fear was desperate. She strangled and coughed. “DK, stop it. Let me
go.”

She’s losing it. Damn, damn. She’s making this worse. Mary’s tension rose. Instinctively she
knew it wouldn’t help to mention the police. This dickhead wanted suicide by cop, and that
scared the spit out of her. Her mind scrambled for answers as DK turned his back on her and held
Hannah in front of him. He made a damned big target for a sniper, but maybe that’s what he
wanted. He figured the deputies would take him out with one shot. Which she knew they could
do in a heartbeat. She couldn’t charge him from behind--that path led to death.

“DK?” she asked softly. “Can I help your mother? She needs help.”

“Forget about her.” DK’s voice was cold. “I have.”

Mary turned and looked at his mother and realized help would come too late anyway. Wide-open
eyes stared into heaven. Mary hoped the woman had found peace. Guilt rushed, coiled hard in
her stomach, and filled her mind and heart. She drew in an uneven breath. I didn’t help her. I
should have thought of some way. For a moment she flashed back to her father, to the guilt. To
emotions chaotic and raw.

She returned her attention to DK and Hannah. Hannah whimpered, and Mary wanted to yell at
her to shut up. She understood the woman’s fear, the paralyzing realization that they might take
their last breaths here in this greasy, dirty home garage. This isn’t how I planned to go. At the
same time, they had to keep their cool if they wanted any chance of escaping this unscathed.

Or at least alive. Please, just get us out of here alive. A little broken, a little anything, but just
not dead.

A mental picture of Dace’s hard, sometimes unforgiving face filled her mind’s eye. What she
wouldn’t give to see his damned frown right about now.

She jerked from her meandering mind long enough to notice that Hannah had gone limp in DK’s
grip.

“Shit,” he growled, and then he dropped his burden.

Hannah fell flat onto her side and lay still.

Mary started to move forward. “Hannah.”

“Stay put!” DK turned the gun on her.

She halted, her breath catching. “No problem.”

Before she could say anything more, the phone on the desk, next to his mother’s body, started to
ring. DK stared at it. It rang six times.

Mary glanced at the phone. “Shouldn’t we answer it?”

“No.”

The phone continued ringing.

DK twitched, his face contorting with something that almost looked like pain. “Fuck!”

He took a bead on the phone and blasted it all to hell with one precise shot. Mary jumped. Pieces
went flying. One segment slapped her in the forehead, gouging and falling away. She cried out
and slapped her hand to her head. Her fingers came away bloody.

“Damn it, woman, get out of the way unless you wanna get dead.”

He sounded like some bad B western gunslinger, and if the situation hadn’t been so serious she
would have laughed her ass off at his antics. Instead she reached for a tissue on the desk and held
it to her forehead.

His eyes were as bloodshot as a hell hound, his mouth a cruel line. “No chance to cry for help.”

Her forehead stung like crazy. “That was probably the cops. If we don’t answer the next time,
they might come in.”

He shrugged. “So? It’s what I want. They can come in with guns blazin’ for all I care.”

Her heart thumped slowly, painfully. She recognized panic trying to overtake her. She drew in a
slow breath, determined she wouldn’t lose it. She must get out of here alive.

She had to live.

She had to see Dace again and hold him tight even if only for one night. One mindless, beautiful
night.

DK stalked toward her. “Get over here. You’re my new shield.”

Chapter Five

Dace moved with agitation, ready for action. He wanted to get in there. “I’m not dressed up like
this to go to a party, damn it.”

Craig MacGilvary clamped one hand on Dace’s shoulder as they stood at the ready. “You know
the drill.”

Craig’s brother Trey, a sniper, was set up nearer to the Miller house and had reported what he
could see. The information wasn’t good. Fucking not good at all. First, Hannah and DK had
stood in front of the big picture window. Hannah had fallen to the side. Trey reported that DK
hadn’t shot her, but she hadn’t moved. Right after they’d tried to establish contact they heard

another shot. That scared the shit out of Dace, but he held his emotions back with steel-hard
discipline.

The wind picked up, and a good inch of snow now covered the ground.

“Wait,” came the reply from Trey. The radio in the mobile command station crackled. “He’s got
another woman in front of him as a shield. It’s Mary Wickes.”

Dace’s anxiety shot up, but he maintained.

“Can he see if Mary’s okay?” The incident commander, Jefferson Harris, asked over the radio.

“There’s blood on her forehead.”

Motherfucker! Dace closed his eyes.

Dace remembered, like a festering wound, the last time he’d experienced this screaming grief.
This couldn’t happen to him ... again. It was like a nightmare he couldn’t flee from, one of those
horror movies where the victim wanders aimlessly into a maze he can’t escape until the hatchet-
wielding creep-who-never-dies comes on the scene and does his grisly business.

Back to business, the team plotted what must happen next. After they’d decided, Harris said,
“Let’s move in.”

Now we’re talking.

“Wait. Not you, Banovic,” Harris said.

“What?”

“Hold up a minute.” Older by a good ten years, the Captain looked at Dace with hard, assessing
eyes. “You all right?”

“I’m peachy.”

The commander snorted, understanding in his blue eyes. “Be honest with yourself and me. Can
you operate like you always do, how you’ve been trained? If you can’t, you’re not participating
in this op. I don’t care how short we are.”

“I’m in control.”

The SWAT commander stared at him for a solid fifteen seconds, gaze assessing with hawk-like
precision. “Okay. Get out of here.”

Intellectually, Dace understood he shouldn’t even be on this operation. Emotionally, he wouldn’t
back down. They’d have to drag his ass out of here, kicking and screaming. He’d get Mary out of
there alive if he had to lie down and die for her.

* * * *

DK’s forearm tightened around Mary’s throat and she winced. “DK, please. You’re hurting me.”

DK kept his pressure on her neck. She almost groaned. She glanced at Hannah, not that far from
her, and realized the woman was breathing. “DK, it doesn’t have to be this way. We can stop this
right now.”

“No way. I want to be dead.”

“Why?”

“Because I put up with my mother’s bullshit for a lifetime and now that lifetime is up. Plus, the
other bastards where I used to work need to understand. They need to see that I’m no damned
pushover and that I mean business.”

Crap. This man had taken “going postal” to heart. She felt a trickle of something on her forehead
and wondered if her cut still bled. A second later the press of cold steel jammed against her
temple, and she couldn’t suppress a gasp of pain. His arm tightened around her throat, and she
groaned as the hurt multiplied.

From her view out the massive window, she saw sheriff’s department cruisers in view, but they
stayed well back. She knew Dace was out there and some of her terror eased. She trusted him
completely, and knew in her heart he’d help her.

Flurries danced in the air outside, a complete white carpet covering the ground. The only good
thing was the snow hadn’t turned to blizzard conditions.

DK released her abruptly, then grabbed a chair nearby. He hurled it through the window. As
glass flew with a resounding crash, she shielded her face with her arms. Glass rained down on
Hannah, and everything seemed to roll into slow motion. DK grabbed Mary around the throat
again, his grip tight as he held the gun to her temple.

“Come on!” DK taunted the authorities as he yelled into the freezing air. “Come on! Shoot me!”

A SWAT negotiator spoke into a bullhorn. “DK, we don’t want to hurt you. We’ll wait as long
as it takes to settle this peacefully.”

“I’m gonna kill her!”

“Mary and Hannah haven’t done anything. Let them go and let’s talk about what’s wrong.
Nothing is so bad it has to come to this. We need you to step out of there with your hands up. No
one will hurt you.”

“Don’t tell me that! Don’t tell me that! You don’t know jack about my problems!”

DK’s manic shriek pierced her ears, and her heart pounded with a thick thump, thump in her ears.
She had to find a way to break loose from him before he became even more trigger-happy.

“Please let me sit down, okay? I feel sick.” That wasn’t a lie.

He pressed the gun harder into her temple, and she couldn’t suppress a pained gasp. “Don’t say
another word or I kill you.”

Deciding she’d better not push him, she remained as still as possible. She made a vow again that
if she managed to get out of this alive she would grab Dace and show him how important he’d
become. How much she cared for him.

Please let me get that chance. Tears surged into her eyes.

“Maybe I have to rough her up a bit more to get some action?” DK asked the cops. “What if I
just splatter her brains right now, or choke the life out of her?”

His arm tightened. She tried to pull in another breath but couldn’t. Without air she choked, a
garbled noise coming from her throat. He pressed harder and her vision dimmed.

Struggle. Get out of his arms. Stomp his foot. Do something.

A loud pop blasted her ear.

The world turned to midnight.

* * * *

Dace paced up and down the small regional hospital emergency room. Kelso had returned to
work, since they had about two hours left on shift. Dace had asked the SWAT commander if he
could stay here and make certain about Mary and Hannah’s condition. The commander had no
problem with it--neither woman had family in the area.

What the hell was taking so long anyway? Impatience sliced into him though he tried to tamp it
down. He took one deep breath, realizing it wouldn’t do for his blood pressure to shoot through
the roof. A nurse stepped out of the back area and headed toward him.

“Hey, Dace, how are you?” The woman’s grey hair was coiled at the back of her head, her lined
face smiling and blue eyes calm as smooth Caribbean waters. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Hi, Bette. Yeah, I’m waiting to find out how Mary Wickes is and if I can see her.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. They finished with her a few moments ago. I’ll go check.”

Frustrated, he realized he’d tied himself into knots that wouldn’t release. He planted his hands on
his hips and continued pacing. He watched his black combat-style boots move back and forth
over the old linoleum. His muscles bunched despite efforts to relax.

“Here she is,” Bette’s said as she led Mary into the waiting area.

Mary carried her bloodstained coat, her face drawn and pale. To his surprise she quirked a smile
and her eyes perked up with amusement when she saw him. “All done and turned and ready to
serve. I’ve been poked, prodded and examined so well I won’t have to see a doctor for a
century.”

Despite his relief at seeing Mary looking steady, his gut still churned. He soaked in the sight of
her, relief making him giddy. Tossed in disarray, her wavy brown curls were pulled into a
ponytail. Her big brown eyes locked on his, and his heart eased somewhat. Her pale, heart-
shaped face showed strain even a smile couldn’t hide. Though she was tall, her slender frame
still looked small and frail. Delicate in a way that made him want to gather her into his arms and
promise to protect her forever.

Dace went to her, his heartbeat slowing to a reasonable pace. “They’re letting you go?”

“Absolutely. I’m in great shape.”

He tilted her chin up and looked at her forehead. “What’s the verdict on this head injury?”

“Metal from the telephone hit me, and the end of that gun pressed against my temple caused the
bruising right here.” She touched the spot just below her temple. “It’s sore, but I feel good.”

Then he saw the slight bruising around her neck and gritted his teeth. “Your throat sounds a little
hoarse.”

She slipped into the bloodstained coat. “It is. But it isn’t as serious as the paramedic thought. I’m
tough as an old combat boot. The doctor gave me painkillers in case I need them, but I don’t
think I will.”

“She should stay home for a couple of days,” Bette said. “Doctor’s orders.”

He took her arm. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Bette left them at the automatic glass doors that led from the emergency room to the parking lot.
Evening started to fall as dark clouds laden with snow obscured much of the sun. Thankfully the
blizzard conditions predicted hadn’t started yet, but the snow continued to accumulate. A few

inches impeded their walk as they tromped across the snow-covered sidewalk. He took hold of
her forearm. She walked steadily, no wavering or weakness evident.

“Would you mind driving me back to my car?” she asked as they reached his cruiser.

He opened the passenger door. “Honey, your windshield is gone, remember? Miller shot it out?”

She sank into the passenger seat. “Oh, damn. That’s right.”

After he’d slipped into the driver’s side, she removed her big coat and slung it over the back of
the seat.

“What are you doing? It’s freezing in here.” He started the engine and flipped on the heater.

“I can’t wear this. Most of this blood is Miller’s. I’m going to throw it away. I ... I can never
wear it again.”

He eased out of his coat. “Here. This is warm.”

“No.”

“Humor me.”

With a wry smile, she slipped into the coat. The arms flopped over her fingers, and the whole
thing hung like a sack on her. “Oh, you’re right. It’s toasty.” She inhaled deeply. “And it smells
like you.”

He grinned. “Was I just insulted?”

She snuggled down in her seat. “No way. Whatever aftershave you’re wearing smells delicious.”

His cock went semi-erect. She liked his scent? A tingle of male anticipation danced through him.
“Thanks. Now on to more serious thoughts.”

Her eyes clouded. “I thought I could avoid reality from now on. It’s a bitch.”

Her sardonic tone, he knew, hid some far more unstable and unpredictable emotions. “That it is.
By the way, your car is impounded for evidence for a day or so. Anyway, you won’t need it for a
couple of days.”

As they left the parking lot, she frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t I need it? It’s not like I have a
second car.”

“Whoa.” He put one hand up. “Didn’t the doctor say you should stay home for at least two days
to recover?”

“Yes, but I don’t know if I really need that time off.”

“Take it. Ease up on yourself.”

“You know what, Dace Banovic? You are one bossy man.”

“I don’t see why you can’t give yourself some slack. You’ve been through hell today.” He heard
the rough edge in his voice, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I’ll take you home and I’ll
call one of your friends to come stay with you.”

“Dace, I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I know that.” He glanced at the clock on the dash of his cruiser. “Think of it this way. We
haven’t missed our date tonight. I’ll fix you dinner.”

“Shelves are bare. I meant to go grocery shopping.”

“No problem. I’ll pick something up and bring it back to your place.”

He felt her staring at him, but he kept his mind on the road. “I thought with the weather you
might have to work tonight.”

“Maybe, but it’s the end of my normal shift soon. The guys at work know what happened to you
and they’ll try to cover if they can.”

“You mean you told them you and I had a date?”

“Yep. I’m not hiding my relationship with you anymore.”

“We have a relationship and you were hiding it?”

“Damn it, Mary, stop being so flippant. Let me take care of you at least for tonight.” His words
came out gruff and indignant. “If after that you want me to get the hell out of your life, I’ll get
the hell out.”

She went quiet after that, and he felt like the biggest ass in the world for snapping at her. Yep,
he’d have to do a lot of making up for his evil temper this evening. He drew in a deep breath as
they pulled into her apartment complex. He hadn’t liked the looks of this place last night; it
wasn’t in one of the better neighborhoods. This particular building had seen too much criminal
activity of late. He didn’t want to criticize her living arrangements, but he’d mention it at some
point. Just not tonight. He wanted to scoop her up and take her to his place, but she needed the
familiarity of her own space.

Once inside her apartment, she tossed her purse on the bench by the door. She left her
bloodstained coat there as well. As she eased out of his coat and handed it to him, he caught the
haunted expression in her eyes.

She wore a casual navy blue pants suit made out of that material that never seemed to wrinkle.
She kicked off her black pumps and left them by the couch. More than anything she looked ready
to drop. She came to a stop in the middle of the small open-plan living room. A world-weary
expression haunted her gaze.

He moved in close. “Hey, you all right?”

She looked up at him, her eyebrows pinched. “I ... don’t know.”

“It’s all right.” He wanted desperately to reassure her. He clasped her shoulders and massaged
them gently. “You need to talk about it.”

“What I need, Dace, is for people to stop telling me what I need.”

*

Mary half expected him to back off and leave the apartment. She hadn’t been too welcoming of
his concern, and that puzzled the crap out of her. She’d wanted to be with him, and now here he
was. Slow-burning anger built inside her as Dace used his magic fingers to massage the tension
from her shoulders.

She kept her gaze tangled with his, absorbing the warmth and caring beaming her way. She
closed her eyes before tears could spill. God, she didn’t want to cry. She didn’t.

Too late. Two tears made their escape and leaked under her tightly closed eyes. He must have
seen them right away, because he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to his
whipcord hard body. He pressed her head gently to his shoulder and caressed her neck with
tender touches.

“It’s all right.” If she’d thought his voice was iron hard earlier today when he’d been bossy as
hell, now he coaxed her with soft, husky persuasion. “You’re safe. You don’t need to hide
anything from me.”

“I know. I just...” Her voice muffled against his shoulder, and then she slipped her arms around
his neck and held on tight. He felt so hard, he made her feel protected. Tears still spilled from her
eyes. His grip tightened. “I just feel so strange. I’m sorry I barked at you earlier.”

His hands rubbed her back in a soothing rhythm. “No problem. I was bossy, like you said.” He
pulled back. “Why don’t you take a shower or a bath? It’ll make you feel better. I’ll pick up
something for us to eat.”

He kissed away one tear and then the next. Mary felt those exploratory brushes as if he’d kissed
her all over her body. Heat flared, an unexpected reaction after the stress she’d experienced. She
shivered, loving his gentleness and caring.

A slow burn lingered in his eyes. “Give me your key so I can get back in.”

She grabbed her keys from her purse and tossed them to Dace. He left with a promise to be back
shortly.

Once in the bathroom, she stripped methodically, her brain foggy with emotions she couldn’t
label. She wanted his embrace to clear the cobwebs and bizarre feelings assaulting her from
every direction. In the shower, she stood under the spray longer than she usually did and
contemplated the enormity of the day. She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it, and that
scared her. She didn’t want to feel this defenseless, this wobbly and dependent. Being dependent
on a man equated to bad news, and she had plenty of evidence.

She turned off the shower, dried off, and tucked a big towel around herself. Because she’d
forgotten to bring a change of clothes with her, she opened the door and dashed down the
hallway to her bedroom.

And ran smack into Dace coming around the corner.

Her arms came up to steady herself, and the towel slipped to the floor.

Chapter Six

No words could describe what Mary felt, pressed all along Dace’s strong body. Dace clasped her
bare waist as he steadied her. His gaze dropped, and she knew he’d caught sight of her breasts
mashed against his chest. Hyper-aware, her senses braced in the moment, in the way his tall,
powerful frame pressed along the length of her. She absorbed his male scent, leather and musk
and something uniquely his. A flush filled her face and traveled down her neck, but not from
embarrassment. From pure desire. His jaw was tight, covered with five o’clock shadow, his eyes
smoldering with obvious need.

“Oh, no,” she said softly.

He palmed her back as he cuddled her close. Her fingers dug into his shirt. Dace’s gaze flamed,
his lips parting. “Food is ready.”

He turned away without another look and headed into the living room. She hovered between
disappointment and relief, then realized she was standing there--to put it mildly--buck naked.
Embarrassed, she grabbed the towel from the floor and rushed into the bedroom. She leaned back
against the door, body trembling as she clutched the towel to her chest. She forced air through
her lips and hurried to dress. She donned a bra, panties, and a royal blue velveteen sweat suit in
record time. She allowed her damp hair to hang loose.

Dace probably thought she’d dropped the towel on purpose. God, she didn’t want him to think
that. She hurried from her room and found Dace in her miniscule kitchen. He turned to her with a
smile. The coffee pot gurgled. He’d bought some rotisserie chicken and a potato salad. Not
greasy fast food, and she appreciated the home-cooked ambiance, the comfort.

“I made decaf. I figured we could both use it after the day we’ve had,” he said.

She sank onto a barstool. “Good. Thanks.”

Silence stretched as he watched her, and Mary didn’t know what to make of his probing
expression. “You’re staring, Hard Man.”

He blinked, then gave her one of those smiles that melted her core. “I can’t help it.” He
wandered around the counter and stopped next to her. “When you lost your towel...”

She covered her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t do that on purpose.”

“I was coming to ask you if you wanted coffee or not.”

She peeked between her fingers. “Instead you got an eyeful.”

“Not as much as I’d like.” His voice dropped to a sexy as hell rumble. “But I’m not taking
advantage. Not now.”

She lowered her hands. “I’m okay.” She was half convinced.

He crossed his arms. “I’m not sure you are.”

The coffee post sputtered continuously as the yummy smell filled the air. “Why?”

“Because I’m sure as hell not.” The uncertainty in his voice surprised her. “When we heard DK
say he wanted us to take him down, and he had that gun to your head ... the incident commander
knew we had to take the shot.”

A horrible queasiness overcame her. “I thought, more than once, that I was dead.”

He touched her hair, his stroke reverent. “When I heard that first gunshot when I was on the
phone with you, I couldn’t think of anything but getting to you. It scared me shitless.”

The sincerity, the aching desperation in his voice floored her. “Really?”

He drew her off the stool and into his arms. “Really.”

His arms were strength, but not only in a physical sense. She glimpsed a desperation and
sincerity in his eyes she hadn’t witnessed in a man before. As if he understood what she’d
experienced in a way far more heartfelt than the average person might.

She eased back from him, afraid of what she felt, and even more afraid of what she didn’t feel. “I
know what I want.”

His gaze trapped hers. “What?”

She drew in a huge breath. “I need to feel grounded. I’m just confused and uncertain.”

“About everything?”

A tiny smile managed to form on her lips. “I’m not sure what I feel. I’m scattered.”

“Torn?”

“That describes me perfectly.”

After the coffee machine beeped that it was finished brewing, he headed around the counter and
set to work pouring coffee in two utilitarian white mugs.

“Cream or sugar?” He held up the fat free cream carton.

“Cream only.”

He ignored the sugar as well, adding a generous portion of cream to his mug. He held her coffee
out to her. “Ready to eat?”

“You go ahead. I don’t know if I can.”

He cracked a lopsided smile and headed for the fridge where he’d stored the meal. “Come on.
You gotta eat or my feelings will be hurt. I bought a feast here.”

“Okay. You’re right.” Her stomach growled. “I’m hungry, as you can hear. My stomach is so
tight, though. It feels funny.”

“Just eat a little. Sit right there and relax. I’ll heat this stuff up.”

She managed a grin of her own as he tossed dishes into the microwave. “Why, Banovic, I never
realized you were so domestic.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I think I would. What other secrets are you hiding under all that cop gear?”

Oh, hell. I can’t believe I said that. He’s going to think I’m hot for his body.

Well, okay, I am.

His irreverent expression as he placed a plate and utensils in front of her made Mary wonder if
she’d insulted him again. God, her brains were mush.

“Eat, Wickes. You’re delirious.”

She sipped the excellent coffee with the reverence reserved for special champagne. “I think
maybe I am. I don’t like that.”

“You’re always in control, aren’t you?”

He’d said it before. He hit too close to home, and part of her resented that. Another part wanted
him to know her inside and out, to share all the things she’d never shared before this moment.

“Yes. I’m still in control now.”

“That’s what we all think. Until the shit hits the fan.”

She absorbed his wisdom. “You’d know, right? You’ve been in hairy situations before.”

“Depends on your definition of hairy. There’s light fuzz and there’s gorilla.”

She laughed.

He placed containers of food in front of her. Before long he pulled up a barstool next to her and
they ate in silence for some time. Within a short time they’d demolished half the food with gusto.

“Have you ever experienced anything like this before?” she asked. “I mean ... exactly what
happened today?”

“Not exactly.”

As she stared into the creamy depths of her coffee, she said, “Have you ever seen anyone shot or
had to shoot someone?”

“I’ve been a cop ten years and I was a marine for eight years. I’ve seen people shot more than
once.”

“Were you in the first Gulf War?”

“Missed it. But I didn’t miss this last war. I’m in the reserves. You know, the whole weekend
warrior thing.”

“And you went to Iraq?”

“Two tours in Afghanistan.”

“I know this is a weird, maybe even a stupid question. Was it awful?”

“In its own way, yeah. Big time.”

“What did you do there?”

“I was a forward observer. Some people call it a fire support specialist.”

“You had to kill.”

“Yeah. I’ve called in fire on the enemy plenty of times. I told others where and when to kill. One
time, me and three other guys were pinned down by sniper fire. One man was badly injured, and
we thought he was a goner.”

“But you saved him?”

“We did, but then...”

A cloud passed over his expression, and she had to ask, “What happened?”

“Shit happened.”

At first, she thought he wouldn’t explain. He gazed at her steadily. “It took twelve hours before
we escaped from our little piece of hell.”

She knew there was more to the story, but she held back from probing.

“That was the day my fiancée was killed. On my first tour in Afghanistan. Gloria Jean Franklin.
She was named after Marilyn Monroe.”

“Oh, my God. Was she in the military, too?”

“No. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time at a convenience store in Denver. A real son
of a bitch came in who wanted some quick money. He was also off his anti-psychotic drugs. He
took hostages. When the SWAT team came he didn’t even negotiate. He shot her in the head
before they could intervene.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Dace. I’m so sorry.” The information sank into her stomach like a
lead ball. “So you understand more than anyone what I experienced today.”

He covered her fingers and squeezed gently. “Yeah.”

“Today, when DK was holding us hostage, that was a return to a nightmare for you.”

“That. And more.”

“Perhaps you’re as confused as I am.”

Understanding dawned over his handsome face. “You could say that.”

Her heart ached, and she wished with all her heart he’d never know such pain again. “I’m so
sorry that you had to go through that. That you lost someone you loved.”

“Thanks, Mary.”

Silence gathered around them for a while until she spoke again. “As a cop, have you had to shoot
someone ... to see someone shot?”

“Gold Rush and the county are pretty darned small. Most of the city police and the county
sheriff’s officers haven’t even shot back at someone.”

“Have you? You didn’t today.”

“I haven’t shot at anyone since I’ve been a cop. Not even with the SWAT. Today was about the
most traumatic incident we’ve had since I’ve been on the team.”

“Are you still in the reserves?”

“Yep. They could call me up again, but right now...”

She stared at her food. “Are you worried you’ll be sent back to war?”

He finished chewing before he said, “I can’t afford to think that way. It would take up too much
brain power and energy I need for doing my job and enjoying my life.”

She finished eating, her mind whirling with questions. An annoying throb started in her temples.
Time passed in silence as they put away leftovers and placed dishes in the dishwasher. When
they pushed away from the sink, she noticed the snow hadn’t tapered. “If this keeps up, you’ll be
stuck here.”

He looked out of the window above the kitchen sink and put away the last dish. “I’m not
leaving.”

She leaned her hip on the counter and crossed her arms, not knowing what to think. “You’re
not?”

He mimicked her stance. “Nope. Unless I get a SWAT call, I’m off for the rest of the evening.
I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“What if I want to be alone?” She rubbed her forehead.

He frowned. “You okay?”

“I have a headache.”

Dace drew nearer, his gaze caressing. “Turn around.”

“Why?”

“Trust me.”

“Those are dangerous words, Marine.”

When his hands cupped her upper shoulders, he leaned in and whispered into her ear. “You have
no idea.” He rubbed her neck with soothing touches. “You’re tense. Maybe you should have
taken a hot bath instead.”

“Maybe.” She sighed as his fingers wove magic. She turned toward him, needing to see his face.

Dressed in his cop getup, Dace was an amalgamation of male energy and unusual vulnerability
that intrigued her beyond all measure. Touching him ignited feelings both dangerous and
delicious. His eyes glittered with heat and arousal. For a time she couldn’t say what she wanted
or how she wanted it. She waited for what would come, unsure and yet open, wanting to know
all of him in any way she could.

“Mary?”

“Yes?”

“Today wasn’t just horrible because it reminded me of Gloria. It was beyond that. Beyond awful
because it was you held hostage. It was the worst nightmare I’ve ever had come to life.” He
brushed his fingers lightly over her cheek. “I see you bruised emotionally like this, and it’s all I
can do to stay calm. I’m jumping out of my skin here. I want so damned badly to fix it for you,
and I can’t.”

She met Dace’s eyes and felt as if he’d tapped into her soul, her secrets. His head tilted to the
side a bit, and as he moved closer, inhibitions fell away. His gaze cruised from her eyes to her
mouth and lingered. Mary’s skin tingled with awareness, her heartbeat quickening.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Yes and no.”

She licked her lips and his gaze followed. “You want to talk some more?”

“Not sure that I do.”

His mouth was so close now, his eyes smoldering. “Before today you wanted to leave the
sheriff’s department.”

“I still do.”

His fingers slipped into the hair at the back of her neck. “But not tonight.”

Heat flared low in her belly, a desire stronger than anything she’d experienced with another man.
The delicious rumble in his voice seduced, and she answered without hesitation. “No. Not
tonight.”

As he kissed her, she fell into the sweetness and went straight under.

When he anchored her to his hard chest, his mouth twisted over hers in hungry demand. His
erection pressed her stomach, and that impressive length heated her loins and built an ache that
demanded completion. Involuntarily she moved, eager to feel his hard chest rubbing over her
nipples. Her grip on his shoulders tightened. God, she ached to get closer. He groaned into her
mouth and plunged deeper.

Oh, yes, men had kissed her on a mission to seduce her into bed. They’d almost all failed. They
hadn’t made her heart pound, her blood pour with raging violence through her veins, her breath
catching, her body trembling with a crazy fever.

They hadn’t kissed her like ... this.

Sweet, hot arousal blossomed and spread outward. Her breath caught as his kiss tossed her
straight into a fiery storm. Desire engulfed her like an unforgiving wave. She never expected to
experience sexual tension as tight, as drawn to a fine point as she did with Dace. Though he’d
kissed her before, now it felt new and explosive. She pressed into his solid chest, into his hips.
His touch seemed to find all of her at once, lingering over her back, her waist, her arms, as if he
searched for a singular answer only his touch could discover. Fingers combing through her hair,
thumbs brushing over her cheeks, he held her steady for his tender inspection.

He drew back long enough to whisper against her mouth. “I’ve wanted to do that for six months.
Ever since the first day I saw you.”

She drew back enough to see his eyes examining her, taking her in with a concentration that
wore down her defenses yet another notch. “The first day we met?”

“The very day.”

“Dace, what’s going on here ... it isn’t just lust, is it?”

“God, no. When I thought I might lose you today, it scared me more than anything I’ve ever
experienced. Anything.”

A wave of delight and comfort came to the surface inside her. Being with Dace filled a space she
hadn’t realized needed fulfilling.

Her fingers threaded through the short-cropped hair at the back of his head. He explored her
everywhere. Cupping her ass. Her shoulders. Skimming up her side until he almost touched her
breasts.

As he kissed her again she knew they wouldn’t stop with mere touches and a few kisses. Each
kiss came at one new angle and then another. He tasted her with ravenous hunger, as if he
couldn’t get enough. With the natural flow of passion, she touched his jaw and felt the rasp of his
five o’clock shadow. She lingered, tracing the small indent in the middle of his chin, then down

to his strong throat. I need to know him. Really know him. He scooped her up with a palm
beneath her ass cheeks, and her legs went around his waist. His cock pressed into her secrets, and
she moaned into his mouth at the keen pleasure.

He broke the kiss. “I want you.”

His words, so low and husky, drove her over the edge. It frightened her and thrilled her to the
core, and she drew him in for another kiss. They broke away only long enough to find the
bedroom.

*

Dace thought he’d found heaven. He tumbled them onto the queen-sized bed. Mary’s legs parted
and left their grip on his waist. His breath came out in puffs as arousal sharpened his alertness
and desire cracked through him like lightning. He drew back long enough to strip off his boots,
and then she pulled him down into her arms. He kissed and nipped her throat, his desire riding
him hard. Mary wasn’t far behind, and when he felt her gliding touch over his cock, he jerked in
response. Jesus. That felt fantastic. He would burst like a school boy any minute. He’d never felt
this compelling desire to take, to possess, to reveal his need for her with primitive action and
words, but he understood she needed reassurance. If things had gone terribly wrong today, he
wouldn’t have her in his arms right now, and that made him want this moment to never end.

“Please, Dace. I’m aching. I’ve got to have you now.”

Mary’s plea, so soft and yet demanding, broke his resolve to take this slow. She worked open his
shirt and slid her fingers over his undershirt. He levered upward long enough to strip off his shirt
and toss the undershirt aside.

Nightfall provided the darkness that added to their intimacy, but soft light from the hallway gave
some illumination to the room. Immediately her gaze assessed him as she ran her hands over his
pecs, teasing his nipples with her palms. He groaned. She lingered over each stomach muscle
until he thought he couldn’t take it a second longer. Though she’d said she wanted him now, her
touch teased and stroked.

He reached for her hands and brought them up over her head, holding her wrists with one hand.
She twisted under the gentle bondage, and he swooped in for another kiss. Her mouth flowered
open for his tongue, her taste lush and delicious. God, he wanted her. He needed to touch her
everywhere, but didn’t think he could wait a moment longer to explore her hidden secrets. His
cock ached for release.

Dace released her long enough to reach down and slip off her shoes. Then he worked her pants
off her hips, dragging her plain white cotton bikini panties down and off her legs. He tossed them
the clothes over the side of the bed. He reached for her top and helped her unzip it. She undid her
bra and revealed small, full breasts topped with large, honey-colored nipples beaded in arousal.

Without hesitation, he cupped her breast and leaned forward, sweeping a long, languorous lick
over the nipple. “God, honey, these are sweet.”

She cried out and her body arched as she clasped his head to her breasts. He sampled each one,
decorating with swirls and licks, his mouth sucking until her nipples stood hard and desperate for
more. To add to the torment, he sucked one nipple while plucking steadily at the other with
thumb and forefinger. He worked downward, nibbling and exploring her ribs, her flat belly,
caressing subtle curves along the way. Mary urged him with gasps, moans, and soft entreaties for
more. He tested the warm flesh between her legs and found her hot and wet. He gently pushed
two fingers inside and caressed. She gasped and writhed.

“Oh, Dace. God, that feels so good. Please I can’t stand this.”

He smiled. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Her words came in pants. “Inside me.”

Dace groaned in frustration. “Damn it. I don’t have any condoms.”

She cupped his face, and he saw trust in her eyes. “It’s okay. I’m healthy, and I’m on the pill to
regulate my periods.”

His breath puffed out. The thought of being deep within her and coming inside her body sent his
hormones into a hot rage. “I’m healthy, too.”

“I trust you.”

His fortitude broke into a million pieces. As he kissed her again, she worked at his belt, tearing it
open and undoing his pants in record time. Before Dace knew it, his cock was in her hand. She
stroked and stroked again.

He grabbed her hand. “Now?”

“Now.”

Her plea broke his control. Dace shoved his pants down his thighs, off his legs, and tossed away
his socks. He came down on top of her, glorying in the sensation of yielding female flesh. The
feel of Mary beneath him blew his mind. Her slim body, so fragile yet strong, drove him to the
brink of an extraordinary madness. She drew her legs up to embrace his hips as his cock touched
her wet folds.

*

Mary saw feral intent in Dace’s expression, a heated animal need. When she closed her eyes, his
cock brushed up and over her clit. She gasped. With a soft groan he entered in one hard thrust,
parting her tightness with steady pressure. He stretched her deep and wide, pushing until his hips

lay flush with hers. Heat and light seemed to engulf her, a steady electric desire that sparked and
danced within. He buried his face in her hair and propped up on his forearms. He shuddered and
groaned, and her heartbeat went double-time. An ache centered high up inside her, and she
arched upward as if he could impale her deeper. Desperate to feel him moving inside, she
wriggled her hips.

Hot puffs of his breath teased her ear. “You feel so good. So hot around me.”

His mouth moved over hers with increasing fervor as he started to move. Frantic excitement
propelled her to join his fierce dance, to bring them to the edge of a fiery end.

She tightened around all that delicious erection, and his kiss grew hotter and more desperate. His
body caressed deep inside, inflaming her desire. She’d never had sex without a condom and the
sensation of his naked flesh against her, inside her, heightened her arousal. Mary cried out and
clung to him fiercely, responding to each deep stroke. The bed creaked with their movements
and his thrusts changed, growing sharper and faster. Short, hard strokes generated a heat so
exciting she groaned with pleasure.

Faster. Oh, God. Faster.

Her body warned her, muscles within her clenching and releasing, fluttering around his hardness.
Mary cried out sharply as her climax sent deep shivers through her. She shook, she gasped,
everything inside her exploding into pleasure. He pounded out his need, fucking her with
massive strokes that hammered deep as her contractions clenched over his cock. Dace slammed
into her and released a throaty groan as he quaked with surrender. She felt his hot semen flood
her, and the intimacy sent tears of happiness to her eyes.

They fell asleep a short time later, but she woke sometime in the night, Dace’s palms touring her
flesh with urgent caresses. He spooned behind her, his thick erection hot and bold between her
legs. Lovemaking this time went much slower, took longer to complete.

This is right. So very right.

Mary knew this night would remain forever in her memory, no matter what happened next. She
would cherish it and keep it with her always.

Soon his urgent caresses chased away all thoughts. His fingertips teased her nipples, unrepentant
in their attention. He plucked, he tugged, he cupped. His relentless brushes and tender touches
strummed over parts of her she’d never considered erogenous zones before. Her heartbeat
quickened as he drew his cock back, then slipped forward, starting a rhythm with his hips. As his
long length stroked over her dampening flesh, she squirmed and panted. Just like that, he turned
her on, her body aching and wanting and begging for more. He released her inhibitions with
every new tour over her naked skin, his touch drawing patterns. Long, steady strokes of his cock
plied and coaxed more reaction from her already heated body. She opened her legs wider and
arched back against him. With a steady push he thrust inside her.

Mary gasped with the pleasure. Each stroke broke way for more delicious sensations to come
forth. She joined the dance. He twisted and tugged her nipples, and the added friction sent a hot
wire of need rising higher and higher. Gasps and groans parted her lips, but she didn’t care.
Nothing mattered but finding that rising tide and drowning in it. She moved her hips with more
aggression, slamming back against him. He picked up the pace as she urged him onward.

His big, hard body cradled and protected at the same time he drove her straight over the edge of
the abyss. His hands cupped her breasts and held them as he pounded deep.

Heat blossomed until it expanded and became her entire world. A scream hovered on her lips.
Her body tightened around his cock, and with a scream she climaxed violently. As her body
shivered and shook, he thrust harder and growled in his throat. A second later his harsh shout and
the hot spurt deep inside her signaled his release.

Mary wondered if anything could be better than this. They lay sticky and hot, panting and filled
with a beautiful afterglow. His hands still surrounded her breasts, his cock stayed hard inside her.
Before she could emerge from her orgasmic fog, his hips started to move again.

She gasped.

“Mmm.” His moan of enjoyment sounded thrilled and eager for more.

And he gave her more and more until she thought the ecstasy would be too great. She didn’t
think she had any more desire, but each thrust brought renewed pleasure. Endless strokes
caressed her until the rush to orgasm came at her so fast she cried out with bliss.

Chapter Seven

Friday morning came too soon for Dace as he rolled over in bed. He couldn’t remember the last
time he felt this happy. Maybe he’d never been this content before.

He reached for Mary and found the sheets cool and empty. His eyes popped open. Yep, he lay in
bed alone. What else was new? He’d think it was a dream, but since he was in Mary’s bed, he
knew last night happened.

The aroma of coffee teased his nose. Yeah. That smelled good.

He drew on his briefs and left the bedroom. When at first he didn’t see her anywhere, a mild
panic tightened his muscles. Where was she? Then he saw her standing on the small balcony,
fully dressed, with steaming coffee in hand. It had stopped snowing, but he could see her breath
puffing outward in the freezing temperature. She wore big clunky boots, a thermal jacket and
stocking cap. Though she’d covered her body from head to toe, he’d never seen a more beautiful
woman. Last night’s lovemaking hit home with him--he couldn’t imagine not experiencing the
sweet slide of moving inside her and the sharing that went beyond mere body into body
movement.

She caught sight of him through the closed sliding glass door. He expected a smile, but instead
he saw her wariness. Man, oh, man. He could feel it through that minor thickness of glass; he
wouldn’t like what she had to say. She opened the sliding glass and slipped inside.

She smiled, but it didn’t hold the warmth he expected. Wanted.

He moved in on her, feeling a primal need to make his mark and claim her. She kept her coffee
mug in hand, so he leaned in and kissed her lightly. “Morning.”

“Morning. Like some coffee?” she asked.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Her soft eyes caressed him, lingering over his naked chest, and cruising downward to admire the
rest of him. Her obvious appreciation drew his ego higher but humbled him at the same time.
“Would you like some breakfast?”

“I’m good for now. If you’d like some, go ahead.”

He poured only a half a cup of coffee for himself, registering a feeling in the air he didn’t like.
When he sat next to Mary at the breakfast bar, he stared right at her. Her gaze didn’t give
anything away.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

She leaned on the counter with her forearms, her expression detached. “I got up early this
morning because I was awake and couldn’t stop thinking about us.”

“Come to any conclusions?”

She folded her hands, almost as if praying for an idea or strength. “What we did last night was
a...” She rubbed the back of her neck, her eyebrows slightly drawn together. “It was a mistake.”

Keen disappointment nailed Dace. He wanted to rage against what she said, but a small part of
him understood what she meant. “I can’t say I’m surprised you’re saying that.”

She groaned softly and continued to rub her neck. Concerned, he stood and came up behind her.

He brushed her hair away and massaged her neck and shoulders gently, loving the feel of her
slender bones, the delicate flesh that made Mary every inch a woman. “Feel all right?”

“I think I’m hung over.”

He smiled. “Too much sex?”

He couldn’t see her face, but she laughed self-consciously. “I hope not.”

“Why do you think we’re a mistake, Mary?”

She turned toward him. “Last night I was upset and on overload. I said things and you said
things.”

A terrible doubt eased over him. “That we didn’t mean?”

“Yes.”

“I meant every word I said.” He slipped his fingers into her hair. “I wouldn’t lie to get you into
bed.”

Her eyes saddened, and Dace understood he’d hit on a sore spot. She closed her eyes under his
touch, and he almost leaned in to kiss her. If he tasted her maybe she’d give in, admit she’d lost
her head and that she cared for him.

Damn it.

“You wouldn’t have had sex with me if you didn’t care about me, Mary. You’re the type of
woman who has to feel something for a man before you jump into bed with him.”

“Type?” Her voice rose. “I didn’t know I was a type.”

God, he was going to fuck this up at this rate. He released her and stepped back. If she needed
distance and time to mull over their relationship, he had to give her what she wanted.

He shoved his hands through his hair. “All right. At least tell me why you think we’re a
mistake.”

The sadness in her eyes increased. “Because you’re a cop, and I don’t want a connection to a
cop. It is plain and simple. Being with you will eventually bring me pain.”

His intrinsic wish was to push her, to make her understand that him being a cop had nothing to
do with her fear. But he knew that logic wouldn’t help. He saw the worry in her eyes, the ardent
belief that her concerns were fact rather than a fiction she’d created out of what happened to her
father.

“You don’t think I understand what you went through, but I do,” he said. “I know what it’s like
to lose someone you love and wish you could turn back time and save them.” He almost reached
out to her but changed his mind. “Tell you what. You need time to think about what happened
yesterday.”

He didn’t kiss her. Didn’t attempt to touch her. Let her have as much space as she wanted to
process. He headed into the bedroom to shower and dress. When he came out a short time later,
she was back out on the balcony. He crewed on his lip, gnawing on the idea to just leave and not

say goodbye. But no. No matter how hurt he felt right now, he wouldn’t act like an immature
teenager.

He opened the sliding glass door, and she turned to look at him, sadness darkening her
expression. “I’d better go. Call me when you want to talk.”

She nodded. “I will.”

Wanting more, but hollowed out by uncertainty, he left.

* * * *

“What’s wrong with you this morning?” Lakeisha asked Monday morning as she sat in Hannah’s
workstation.

Mary tried to plaster on a smile, but it didn’t work. Nothing worked. “I’m fine.”

“Hannah should be back tomorrow.”

“Good.”

Mary hadn’t talked to Dace since their uneasy parting, and she’d only seen him at a distance
earlier this morning. Over the weekend she’d had a lot of time to think. When she came back to
work, she’d assured her boss that she could return and have no problems. One more thing needed
solving before she could have peace of mind.

“Did you hear?” Coreen said as she stopped by Mary’s desk.

Mary sighed. She didn’t want to hear it. Her fingers flew over the computer keys. “What?”

Coreen’s inky black hair dipped over her cheek as she leaned forward on the high counter and
glared down at Mary. Her brown eyes held a cold, calculating measure that she couldn’t hide
under any pretense. At least, not to Mary. She could read this woman like the proverbial book.

When Coreen didn’t respond, Mary looked up in exasperation. The damn woman stayed right
where she was, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Coreen, I have a couple more reports to finish
before I leave today. If we could cut right to the chase...”

“Dace was hurt on a call a couple of hours ago.”

Mary’s entire body froze. She couldn’t look away from her computer screen. “What?”

“They took him over to the hospital for observation.” For once Coreen didn’t have an insolent,
superior look on her face.

Worry bit into Mary with sharp teeth. “How bad is it?”

“Like I said, I don’t know. I’ll keep you posted.” Coreen left the room.

“Right,” Mary said to herself. She snatched her phone and started flipping through her phone
book. “What the hell is the phone number for the hospital?”

Before she knew it, she’d located the number and dialed. On pins and needles didn’t quite
describe Mary. No, her heart pounded too hard, her pulse fluttered too much, her stomach
clenched tight. Despite all that, numbness took hold until she reached the front desk at the
hospital and they passed her along to the emergency room. It took some doing but she reached
Kelso.

“Is Dace all right?” Panic rose despite her efforts to force down her wild feelings. “Coreen told
us he was hurt.”

“He’s damn good considering he had a hand grenade tossed out the window at him.”

“What?”

“Yep. Crazy jerk on the north side decided he’d resist arrest, and we set up shop when he
barricaded his house.”

“Oh, God.”

“Dace got his bell rung and a bruised rib, but he’s excellent. They’re letting him out of here.”

She sighed in relief. “That’s good news.”

“Hey, you get off in about a half hour, right? I’ll stall him until you can get here.”

“Stall him?”

“I know you want to see him. The doctors don’t want him to drive and they want him to stay
home for a day. He’ll need a babysitter.”

Kelso’s blatant and not so blatant meaning came through loud and clear. “I’ll be there as soon as
I get off. Don’t let him escape.”

“Not a chance.”

* * * *

As Mary walked into the hospital, she knew what she had to say to bring closure to a part of her
life that had almost caused her to lose someone very dear. She hated the hospital, but then so
many people did. Here, people found hope, they suffered, they found a cure, they sometimes
died.

The dying part bothered her the most.

Because thinking about Dace leaving this earth without her having him in her life first... Well,
the thought tore a hole in her that couldn’t be mended.

She found him in the emergency waiting room parked in a wheelchair, without Kelso to pin him
down. Surprise, surprise. A television high in one corner played one of those repeating
broadcasts that screamed the latest health scare. Reading a car magazine, Dace seemed oblivious
not only to the news but the full waiting room around him. From here he looked in one piece--no
bruises, no cuts, no bandages that spoke of damage. Relieved, she hurried forward.

At first he didn’t see her. “Dace.”

He looked up, and his expectant and pleased expression eased some of her worry. “Hey. Took
you long enough.” Her mouth popped open. Before she could speak, he smiled. “I’m kidding.
Kelso gave me some crap about having to leave and that you’d be by to get me.”

She returned his grin. “He’s good at that, isn’t he?” She squatted down by his wheelchair and
clasped his forearm. “How do you feel?”

His smile flashed as if he hadn’t almost lost his life. “I feel damn good. My ribs are sore, but
other than that, I’m wonderful.”

“Kelso said you were knocked out.”

He shrugged, then grimaced. “All of two minutes. Don’t worry. My brains aren’t turned to mush.
Yet.” He winked. “I’ve still got my mojo.”

She laughed. “If I didn’t know you, I’d say the blast turned on your inner comedian.”

“When I woke up and realized my ass hadn’t been blown off, I made a vow. I decided I’m
lightening up. I feel like I’ve blocked too much fun from my life.” He covered her hand. “I’ve
been too willing to pass by the small, good things.”

“Such as chocolate ice cream?” she asked.

His gaze turned hotter, more purposeful. “With whipped cream.”

Oh, yeah.

She swallowed hard and stood up. “Ready to go?”

“They have to wheel me out. Hospital regulations.”

She let the nurse at the front desk know she’d arrived to get him, and another nurse they both
knew wheeled him out to Mary’s car. By the time they left the parking area and negotiated the

snowy streets, a strange silence settled over them. Now that she had Dace in the car, she couldn’t
seem to form a sentence. Finally, they reached his house.

“Come in for a while?” he asked as they parked.

“Absolutely. I’m going to make sure you’re safely tucked into your apartment.”

He smiled. “I’m fine.”

She glared. “Right. You almost had your ass blown off. You are not fine.”

He laughed. “Ow. That hurts.”

“See what I mean?”

“So payback is a bitch? I took care of you the other day and now you’re paying me back.”

“Something like that.”

He laughed again and groaned one more time. He got out of the car before she could rush around
and open the door for him. He walked a little stiffly, but other than that he seemed stable, thank
goodness. His apartment was on the first floor, and when they entered she saw he hadn’t
decorated much.

“You look like you’ve seen something nasty.” He closed the door and took off his coat. “This is
my second apartment in town and I’ve just started to redecorate.”

“Oh.”

“You thought this was all there was, eh?”

“Um ... yes.”

He laughed and groaned. “If you’re going to make me laugh like this, you’ll have to give me a
massage afterwards.”

The train was rolling, and she didn’t plan to stop it. She took her coat off and looped it over a
chair arm. “You got it.”

His wicked smile grew wider. He sauntered toward the hallway. “I’m going to put on some
sweats.”

“Do you need help?”

When he turned to look at her, his eyes held an intimate hunger she couldn’t ignore. “I’m stiff as
hell. Yeah. I could use the help.”

It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him naked before. He could strip, and she could remain unaffected.

Riiiight.

Once in his bedroom, he snapped on a light. She shouldn’t feel awkward in here, but she did. His
bedroom was about as masculine as she’d expect from someone nicknamed Hard Man. A navy
blue and grey bedspread over his queen-sized bed, and dark wood furniture that looked antique
or was a good replica.

He rummaged in his chest of drawers and drew out navy sweats. As he turned she saw him
wince, and every female instinct screamed to help. Sure, she wanted to touch him, but mostly she
hated seeing him in pain.

He eased out of his SWAT uniform, and she took it from him. When he worked at lifting his
white undershirt, he winced and halted.

“You okay?” Her hands touched his. “Here, let me help.”

Mary’s hands brushed steel-hard contours as she lifted the undershirt off and away. He watched
her closely, and she flushed. Then, he sat on the bed and started to bend over.

She pressed him back into sitting upright. “Here, let me get your boots.”

He leaned back on his elbows, but then groaned and lay flat on his back. “Ah, that feels better.”

She disposed of his boots in fairly short order and set them aside.

“Damn, woman, you’re good at this.”

“Oh, yeah. I do this sort of thing all the time.”

“You can do it for me anytime.”

She heard a hint of what sounded like jealousy, and her heart leapt, responding like the television
shrink had said to the pheromones that still bounced back and forth. She pulled off his socks.

“Take off my pants.”

Mary scoffed at his mischievous grin. “Why, Dace Banovic, I think you’re playing this up.”

He laced his hands over his six-pack and wiggled his eyebrows. “Yeah, I am.”

Encouraged and feeling definite stirrings of arousal, she eased his belt open, undid his pants, and
slowly slid down the zipper. She kept her eyes on his, and under her hand his cock hardened.

“Oh, man.” He almost gasped the words. “Sweetheart, if you keep doing that...”

“Yes?”

“I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

The idea that she could stir him even when he ached from head to toe gave her an ego boost. No
denying it. “I need some help with these pants.”

His teasing grin still in place, he sat up and lifted his hips enough so that she could ease his pants
down and off. Wearing nothing more than black briefs that cupped his erection, he represented
undeniably magnificent male.

She lay on the bed beside him, propped up on her arm. No way she could stop the fierce need
that swamped her. Like he’d turned a special switch, her breasts ached, her nipples tightened,
and the flesh between her legs moistened and ached for attention. But hell, all he had to do these
days was look at her to make her feeling this way. Dace reached up and slipped his hand into her
hair. The yearning and warmth in his eyes made her ache to kiss him.

But first things first.

“When I found out you’d been hurt ... it scared the crap out of me, Dace.”

“Yet you picked me up at the hospital. You could have stayed away.”

She inhaled and took a chance, hoping he’d understand. “First, let me say that I’m as thick as a
plank.”

“What?”

“I acted like a jerk when I sent you away.”

“You needed time to think.”

“I did think. Long and hard. And I realized that I gave up on myself too easily. I gave up on you
too easily.”

His eyes warmed with understanding as his touch drifted to her hip. “It’s probably good we took
the time apart to think about what we’re getting into.”

A tiny fear arose inside her. “Did you come to any conclusions?”

He sighed. “Yeah. I want a chance with you. I know we both have baggage, but I also think that
makes us human. I lost Gloria, but I found you. I hope you want to be with me.”

She caressed his face. “I do. More than anything I’ve wanted in my life.”

He grinned widely, his eyes warm. “Good. Because the more I’m with you, the more I want to
get to know you, to explore what we have. You mean a lot to me.”

Joy broke loose inside her at his simple, heartfelt statement. Mary couldn’t hold back as she
leaned forward to brush her lips over his. “I think it’s too late to save me, Dace. You’re growing
on me, too.”

Dace’s grin stayed wide and unrepentant. “Stay with me tonight and see what happens next.”

He rolled her over on her back and kissed her. The passion flowing inside her grew until it
seemed nothing mattered but joining with him. It didn’t take long for her to lose her clothes, for
the heat to rise, for Dace to join their bodies with a smooth, swift thrust.

When she locked eyes with him, he said, “Oh, man, I think you have the cure for what ails me.”

She grinned. “Glad I could help.”

Then, with deep thrusts, he showed Mary that he had the cure for what ailed her, too. Her hips
arched with each powerful movement as they strained against each other. Mary knew that she
wanted and needed this ecstasy with Dace and Dace alone. She clenched her muscles, holding
him within as the pleasure enclosed her within a cocoon she didn’t wish to escape. She gasped
loudly as she reached for the heights. Happiness drew her higher, tossing her over the rapids as
she lost all inhibitions. She pulsed around his cock, absorbing his deep thrusts, feeling every inch
of him as he imprinted his body upon her. His hips hammered, and she loved his loss of control,
the feral growls that left his throat. Heat seared her from the inside out, drawing her upward until
one thrust threw her over the top. She whimpered, the pleasure so hot and explosive, she held on
tight in desperation. With a growl, he shook above her and went still.

He eventually moaned and laughed. “Ah, man. I think that one killed me.”

“I can’t believe we did that when you’re hurt.”

“Believe me, you’re worth it.”

After they’d cooled, he held her close. “Come celebrate Thanksgiving with my family.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she moved so they lay facing each other, arms still tight around each
other. “That sounds wonderful.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you crying?”

“Don’t worry, Dace, these are happy tears.”

And then she kissed him again.

The End

About the Author:

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