Whoa.

Carson had months to play out their potential first meeting with just the two of them. He’d never reckoned greeting Jessica tits first though.

His mouth went dry. How in the hell did she still smell like orange blossoms in Icy Cap? Carson smothered a groan. God, he missed those natural DD cups of her hers. Her deep pink nipples puckered in the air.

He wanted to lick her glowing skin. He’d missed her so much he almost dropped to his knees.

“What are you doing here?” Jessica snatched a towel from the rack to cover herself.

“Looking for a murderer. I’m heading up an investigation and you are the prime suspect. I thought we covered that.” Carson yawned to cover the fact that his cock was already hard.

“I know why you’re in Icy Cap, you fur brain. What are you doing in my trailer?”

“Since you’re suspected of murdering your previous roommate, I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight lest you murder again. Anyway, I’m beat. You still prefer me on top?”

At Jessica’s strangled sound, he pointed to the empty bunk above him.

“You can’t stay here,” she said.

“Why not?”

“You didn’t tell them we’re married.” Jessica sat down hard on her desk chair.

“I’ve omitted that detail for now. Along with your family of origin.”

“The vamp knows, right?”

Carson’s laugh sounded more like a bark. “Mariko knows everything but that.”

“That’s a surprise.” Jessica pulled on a clean sweatshirt. It fell to the top of her thighs. She wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. Her scent spilled out from the bathroom, filling the room.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Mariko is a professional. Don’t let your prejudices against vamps blind you to how valuable she is.”

“You’re a fine one to lecture me about prejudices. Your ice bear clan had it out for me from the beginning.”

“That probably had something to do with one of your sisters enchanting my brothers into teddy bears.”

“That was an accident!”

Carson raised an eyebrow. “You always take their side even when it’s against your own happiness.”

“They’re my family,” she said lamely.

“I am too.”

“We’re divorced,” she said.

“I mate for life.”

Jessica was afraid. How had he not seen that before? Because he was a prideful ice bear. When she’d asked for the divorce he couldn’t see beyond his own hurt and anger.

But here, there was nowhere for her to run. That was the good news. They could hash this out. Unfortunately, Carson had two things working against him: his mate was suspected of murder and he suspected someone was trying to kill her.

* * *

Carson woke at 2:00 a.m. He listened to Jess’s even breathing from the top bunk. He’d wormed his way into her room down here but he’d made no progress breaking down the wall she’d built between them. He might as well be back in Fairbanks. Listening to her peaceful breathing, Carson contemplated this situation. His wife wasn’t a killer. He’d bet his life on that. But someone was setting her up. Who and why?

“What’s with the beard?”

Jessica had been playing possum.

“Like it?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said.

Judging from the phone numbers slipped to him, other women liked his beard. But what about her? Jess alone was what mattered to him. Carson gave his beard a tug.

The room’s darkness made talking a bit easier. Good thing too, because hearing her voice caused his cock to throb.

“What are you afraid of?” He asked the question plaguing him since she’d left.

“Nothing.”

She was a poor liar.

“Are you embarrassed to be married to a shifter?”

“No.”

“Are you afraid of me?” He had to know. After months of puzzling over her departure, he’d concluded he must’ve scared her off somehow.

Jessica snorted.

The corner of his lips quirked up. He’d missed his feisty girl.

“You know I’d never hurt you.”

“Carson, face facts. It can’t work. We’re too different.”

“This from a woman who ran off to Icy Cap. Was joining the circus too convenient?”

“I’m here for work,” she said.

“Bullshit. You’re hiding.”

“Go to sleep,” she said.

“If you are not afraid of me, prove it.”

“Carson, this isn’t summer camp,” she said wearily. “I don’t have to prove it.”

“What we have scares you.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Kiss me. Then I’ll roll over and snore,” he said.

“You don’t snore,” she said.

“Maybe I do now. A person can change a lot after divorce. Now about that kiss?”

“Go to sleep.”

Carson counted to two hundred silently. Jessica’s turning in the bunk above him ceased.

“Om, Om, Om,” he said.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“I’m chanting. It helps when I can’t get to sleep. Om. Om. Om.”

The bunk above him creaked.

“Can’t you do that silently?”

“Doesn’t work unless I chant aloud. Don’t worry. Mariko said after an hour one’s sleep partner hardly notices it.” Carson smiled up at the underside of her bunk. He could feel her irritation ooze down at him. God, he’d missed her. There was something so satisfying about annoying her.

He resumed chanting.

Twenty-five minutes later, Jessica dropped out of her top bunk. She hesitated at the side of his bed before leaning over. Her long hair drew a curtain around them. Jessica’s lips grazed his cheek.

“You can do better than that,” Carson said. She’d underestimated the stubbornness of a shifter. He turned his lips to hers. He brushed her hair back, its silky strands sliding through his fingers.

Her soft lips met his. She widened her mouth and slipped her tongue in his. At the touch of his sweet wife, he pulled her down to his bed.