“Nadia. N-A-D-I-A.” The reader leaned over the table where London sat and signed copies of Rory’s Girl. Nadia’s sparkly black v-neck top glistened under the spotlight above London. “I’m so excited. My friends and I have this reading group we started on Facebook. They’ll be so freaking envious when share I have a signed copy.”
“That’s so cool, Nadia.” London smiled as she used her trademark purple fountain pen to personalize a message on the inside page of the book. “There.” She finished with her signature. “All yours. How about a bookmark, too?” She reached to the pile of shiny printed matter splayed out in the shape of a fan in front of her.
Nadia nodded, sending the curls of her pretty blonde hair bobbing. “I’d love one.” She held up her phone and bit her lip, as if deciding whether to say more.
London could guess what was on her mind. Thank God Jinx had done her hair and makeup earlier this afternoon. London normally cringed at having her picture taken, but even she had to admit Jinx’s skill with creating a “look” had made her feel all sorts of special this evening. And considering the news crew was here tonight filming her signing as part of their series on local authors, she was damn grateful.
“Would you like a photo?” she offered.
Nadia’s face broke into a smile. “You don’t mind? I wasn’t sure if I could.”
“Of course you can.” London rushed to reassure her. She stood and held her arm out, inviting Nadia to stand beside her. London was a hugger. Always had been. So putting shy readers at ease was no chore. “Cleo, can you take a photo of Nadia and me?”
“You bet.” Cleo snagged the reader’s phone and took a quick series of pictures.
Now with phone in hand, Nadia wore a huge grin. “Thank you so much,” she said before she and her friend walked off, each admiring their signed copy.
“Here, you must be parched.” Cleo placed a glass of white wine on the white cloth covered table. “I’m moving you on from iced water.” The bookstore manager looked stunning in an emerald halter dress that finished a few inches above her knees and showed off her long legs to perfection. “You’re doing an amazing job, babe. The reporter told me they’ve shot some great film. Anything you need?” Before London could reply, she pursed her ruby coated lips. “Hmm, more copies. And maybe a few more bookmarks.” She bent over some opened boxes behind London, grabbed handfuls of paperbacks and restocked the table.
London smiled at the line of readers in front of her. At least twenty stood patiently waiting for their turn. Aged mostly around late teens to their thirties, she was pleased to see a few women who must have been into their fifties. The higher spread of demographics, the more chance she’d have of her readers following her into another genre like mystery and suspense.
A quick glance at the clock told her an hour had passed. Wow, the time had rushed by. And still the room was packed.
Jinx and Harper stood near the front window display showcasing all of London’s books, sipping wine and chatting with a couple of readers. Her mom and dad tasted the array of finger food on a long side table. Near them, she caught sight of Aidan, his six foot three frame standing out above the crowd in the room.
Another towering man should have been here. Well, two of them. Heath and Derek. Aidan had warned her the guys had caught a suspect in their double murder case. Her brother had looked at her searchingly as he’d advised her both men would try to make her signing, but no guarantees.
London took a sip of her wine as she sat back down and thought more about Aidan’s behavior. Call it her fertile author’s imagination, but when she couldn’t hide her disappointment at Heath’s possible no-show tonight, she was sure Aidan wanted to ask her more questions about how well she knew him.
Sure, she was happy for Heath that a suspect in his case had been found. But well, tonight’s signing and filming was a big deal for her, and yes, she wanted the chance to show Heath a glimpse of her life as an author.
She sighed as she looked down at the table and picked up her pen, ready to start again.
“London,” a cold, toneless voice said above her. “So lovely to see you.”
She looked up into the cool stare of Angelique Dupree, successful author of mysteries and the person who’d written the scathing critique of London’s secret project. The woman’s dark hair was combed out in a gravity defying fullness only achieved with ozone-depleting levels of hairspray. Her make-up was heavy but precise, as if the glossy blood-red stain on her lips had been tattooed on. An image of Alexis Carrington from the ’80s TV show Dynasty, minus shoulder pads, came to mind.
“Angelique.” London smiled, enjoying the flicker of annoyance in the woman’s artic blue gaze at London’s refusal to be intimidated. Damned if she would cower at her own book signing. “How nice of you to come to my event.”
“Your teenage romances are sweet. And huge sellers.” The last sentence was said with an air of disbelief that grated on London’s patience. “But that’s not the only reason I’m here. I wanted to see this film crew in action. I’m in talks with their producer.” Angelique waved her hand in the vague direction of the TV crew off to the side. “They want to do a more in-depth profile of an author with a proven track record. The producer chose me. Apparently she adores reading mysteries and suspense.”
What I want to write. Have written. The very piece of work Angelique had so contemptuously dismissed.
Keep it classy.
“That’s wonderful. I hope you can make your plans happen.”
“Hope doesn’t enter into it, London. Either you have the talent to make wishing into a reality or you stick to what you’re best at.”
London blinked at the verbal power-punch. Was Angelique’s remark tough love since Angelique had read her work?
She studied the woman standing before her. Those cold blue eyes, sharp and hard, so very hard. Aren’t eyes the window to someone’s soul?
A hard soul can also be a jealous one. A sudden realization washed through London. Her pulse quickened. Maybe Angelique’s reasons for dismissing London’s first three chapters had nothing to do with the quality of the writing, but resentment. Had London allowed her fears of taking the huge gamble of switching genres grow to the point she completely doubted her abilities as a writer?
Or was she deluding herself with second-guessing the opinions of a bestselling author simply because the woman was a bitch?
“Anyway, I must hand you back to your fans. Enjoy your evening.” Angelique looked over at the film crew’s producer and smiled with the glee of a lion sighting a gazelle. “Courtney!” She called out and headed off in direction of the crew.
London dragged in a cleansing breath and smiled at the reader standing patiently a few steps away. “Hi there.”
The next fifteen minutes whittled her line to ten readers. London guessed she had so far signed maybe a hundred copies of Rory’s Girl, plus extra books from the series readers had brought along.
As another satisfied reader moved on, she sipped her wine, finishing off the glass.
A man wearing a rumpled brown shirt and creased dark pants pushed his way in front of the next reader. London barely recognized Henry. His dark hair stood out in places as if it had been raked with a hand, and dark stubble covered his chin. He quickly looked around as if logging his surroundings.
London frowned as recognition sank in. “Henry?” Hadn’t he declined to attend the signing when she invited him?
Ignoring the glare of the reader behind him, the renowned thriller writer leaned over the table toward London. “I have to speak to you.”
“Okay, but”—she smiled in apology at the reader waiting and gestured toward the lady for Henry’s benefit—“people are lined up, and I need to see them first.”
“No, it has to be now.” Henry’s voice rose. He pulled off his glasses, rubbed his bloodshot eyes with his hand and then shoved the thick black frames back on his face. “I can’t wait.”
The man looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Concern had her rising from her seat. She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Look, Henry, whatever is up, just give me twenty minutes. I promise I’ll be free soon.”
Henry scanned the room, his gaze locking on the store’s doorway before his body stiffened under her touch. He jerked his head back to face London. “Don’t leave.” With no further explanation, he skittered past her toward the back of the store.
London stared as he dived behind a tall row of bookshelves and disappeared from sight. She turned back and gazed toward store’s entry. The spot was empty save for two readers she’d met earlier and signed their books.
How odd.
The poor woman who’d been waiting her turn to meet London wore a bewildered expression.
“Hey there. We like to keep things lively.” London joked as she sat and set about working through the line, answering reader questions and smiling through a volley of reader-author selfies. Close to the twenty minutes she’d guessed earlier, London handed a signed copy of Rory’s Girl to the last reader and smiled as Cleo announced the signing was officially over and readers were welcome to browse the store for another half hour.
Dropping her purple fountain pen onto the table, London looked up.
And spotted a man entering the store.
Not any man.
Heath.
Excitement shot through her body as her gaze drank in his tall form. His dark pants and matching open necked shirt added to the air of command that always swirled around him.
Heath’s piercing blue gaze locked with hers, stealing her breath. The surrounding chatter and laughter in the store faded into the background as he strode toward her.
She stared, unable to look away. Heath angled his body as he brushed past another man, the action highlighting his powerful shoulders that stretched the cotton material of his shirt. She curled her hands as the urge to feel the muscled hardness of his body took hold.
Mindless of her readers now browsing the nearby bookshelves, Heath rounded the table before her. She rose, as if compelled by the silent directive of his gaze.
“Hi.” She ignored the breathy tone of her voice, too aware their bodies were now only inches apart.
“London.” His gaze swept over her. “You look gorgeous tonight.” He wrapped a hand around her upper arm, his touch sending a scattering of tingles through the silky indigo fabric of Jinx’s top. He brushed his lips on her cheek, lingering a moment longer than necessary. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
Pleasure warmed her blood, both at his touch and the fact he regretted not being here for the start.
“No problem. Aidan explained.”
Heath glanced across the room to where her brother studied them. Something flickered in Heath’s gaze, and she could have sworn some male understanding had flashed between the two men. An understanding of what? When she glanced at her brother, his expression gave nothing away.
Her parents, on the other hand, looked openly curious as they paused from sampling some of the finger food. Standing with them, Aidan’s girlfriend, Mercy, wore a huge grin.
London hid her groan. Wasn’t it only a few weeks ago the bubbly blonde teacher had tried to set London up on a double date with one of her colleagues?
A glance toward the store’s front window revealed Jinx, Harper and Cleo all wearing matching grins to Mercy’s.
And then there was Grandma Shaw, who gave her the thumbs up, before turning to survey the books in the erotic romance section.
“We have an audience,” London said softly to Heath.
“Knew that going in.”
She looked up at his declaration. So he was aware his kiss would get noticed. He’d kept the kiss classy but still with a note of possession—a right he hadn’t declared or asked of her yet.
Such a manly, confident action set the nerves in her belly fluttering.
She couldn’t help but tease. “Not shy about being seen by my readers?” With a grin, she added, “They may think you’re one of my cover models.”
His grin showed off the sunlines at the corners of his eyes. “What kind of screen test is required? I don’t take my shirt off for just any woman.”
Her gaze dropped to his chest. His wide, hard chest. It would be so easy to picture him shirtless, maybe in jeans and boots, leaning back against a wall, his cop’s badge pinned to his belt. She risked a peek at his face. The corner of his mouth twitched. Dammit. The sexy detective knew exactly what she was thinking.
“Hmm, I’ll have to check your rates. If you’re too expensive, I’ll ask Seth instead.”
His bark of laughter drew stares from some of her readers. Stares that soon turned admiring. Nadia even winked at London.
She giggled. God, she loved her readers.
“The bastard would do it simply to annoy me.” Heath’s eyes glinted with humor. “Are you happy with how things have gone tonight?” He glanced over her head at the film crew. The camera guy was panning shots around the room.
“I am. The reporter interviewed me earlier. Cleo assured me I didn’t turn into a nervous ninny answering the questions.” Maybe it was the shot of vodka Jinx had given her seconds beforehand that settled her nerves? “My readers turned out and had fun. Tomorrow I’ll check my social media and make sure I comment on any photos they post.”
She loved when her readers shared posts on her Facebook timeline and elsewhere.
“You have a big following online?” He shook his head at her surprised look. “Hey, I’m a clueless guy when it comes to fans and—” He broke off and looked above her, his gaze narrowing as if searching for the right words. “Young adult romance.”
“Okay, you score points for remembering the right genre.” A reminder this detective didn’t miss a damn thing. “And yes, I have a following. I’d say a healthy one. My readers are pretty dedicated to staying in touch with me.” Not just about books, but the normal, sometimes funny, everyday stuff that also builds a deeper connection.
He studied her face before commenting. “That means a lot to you.”
She shrugged. “Without readers I don’t have a career. I can still write books, but if they aren’t engaged, then my stories go unnoticed.”
A plausible scenario if her new project fell flat.
“Did you make an announcement tonight about your new project?”
“No.” Heck, no. “I can’t reveal something so important to a small number of people. I want all my fans to feel included. The best way is to send a newsletter and make a post on my website and on Facebook. Have them appear simultaneously. That way we cut out as much misinformation as possible.”
Heath opened his mouth to reply, before his gaze narrowed as someone moved up beside her.
“London.” Henry pushed his way close, gripping her upper arms and squeezing. “Listen to me.”
“Henry”—she tried to step back, but he increased his hold—“what’s going on?”
“Let go of the lady,” Heath ordered in a deadly soft voice that sent a chill down her spine.
She whipped her gaze to Heath. “It’s okay, I promise.” She turned back to Henry. “Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”
“Search in your dreams, London.” Henry’s wide-eyed gaze bordered on feverish as his hands squeezed her arms to the point she grimaced in pain. “The answers to what happened are here in your dreams.” Henry broke away, ignoring Heath as he looked toward the front window. All she saw was Harper and Jinx starring back at Henry with raised eyebrows.
What on earth was wrong? Concern for her friend overrode any thoughts of her signing. “Look, let’s go to the stock room and talk.” She grabbed Henry’s hand, but he pulled free as if burned from her touch.
“No. I’m out of time.” He stepped back, gave her one last pleading look. “You have to make things right, London. Don’t fail me.” With those words, he turned and hurried out of the store.
London could only stare as Henry moved out of her view.
“What the heck was that about?” Harper moved to her side with Jinx close behind. The café-owner gently rubbed London’s arm. “You okay, hon?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I don’t, I—” She broke off. “That was weird.”
“What did he mean ‘search your dreams’?” Heath placed a steadying hand at the small of her back.
“I have no idea.” She glanced at Cleo who joined them. “God, I’m sorry.”
“Babe, chill.” The bookstore manager looked to Heath. “Henry’s an oddball at the best of times. But he’s also an international best-selling author of kickass thrillers. We can’t stock enough of his books.” Returning her attention back to London, she frowned. “But he’s always been semi-normal around you.”
“I’ll try his cell in a bit.” Maybe by then Henry would have calmed down enough to explain to her what had upset him so.
Heath’s stare focused in the direction Henry fled before he turned his attention back to her. “Don’t worry.” He moved his hand from the small of her back to the curve of her hip. “Everyone’s had a great night.”
“Our girl’s the toast of the town.” Grandma Shaw, resplendent in a slinky black pantsuit and silver mules, came over and kissed London’s cheek. “Doesn’t she look fabulous, Heath?”
Heath smiled down at the elder Shaw. “Beauty runs strong with the women in your family, Estelle.”
Her Grandma’s eyes twinkled with delight as she smiled toward Jinx and Harper. “I like him.”
“Hey, sweetie. Looks like the camera crew is starting to pack up. You ready to go soon?” Her mom joined them with the rest of her family and Mercy in tow. At some point, Derek had arrived. With everything happening, she’d missed his entry.
Harper and Jinx stepped back to widen the circle around London.
“Sounds like a plan, Mom.” She wrapped an arm around her mom’s shoulders and glanced at the small cocktail plate in her father’s hand. “I see you’re enjoying those mini-meatballs.”
Her dad chuckled. “Your mom’s limited me to four. We’ve made a reservation at The Pink Door for dinner.” He glanced around the circle. “Everyone still coming?”
Cries of agreement came from all. The Pink Door was in Pike Place Market, served Italian food, and was one of London’s favorite restaurants. A light pink door in an alley was the only entry to the gastronomic delights lying in wait.
After giving her thanks to the TV crew’s producers, London helped her family and Cleo clean up before the last reluctant reader was ushered out of the store.
She gave signed copies of her book to Cleo’s two staff members who’d helped tonight. Tomorrow she’d arrange for a delivery of baked treats from Seven Dishes to the store as more thanks.
“Since you caught a taxi here, I’ll drive you home after dinner, okay?” Heath grabbed her small roller suitcase filled with leftover bookmarks, keychains and other gear.
Considering he had said the “okay” after he’d started walking with her case, she guessed he wasn’t really asking.
Then again, a lift home with Heath suited her perfectly.
She stood by his SUV as he stored her bag.
While London’s dad drove her mom and Grandma to the restaurant, everyone else enjoyed the five-minute walk from the bookshop.
Her mom had reserved a table on the outside terrace. Heath sat on one side of London and Harper on the other at a long rectangle shaped table.
Heath’s presence seemed to fill not only the space on her left, but take over the terrace. Every brush of his arm against hers, the way the material of his pants skimmed against her bare legs—every touch was like a lit match to her skin. The faint scent of his aftershave teased her senses. She wanted to get even closer, press her face against his neck, feel the scratch of his stubble on her skin, and trace her fingers over the tanned column of his throat.
“Hungry, Red?”
She swallowed and forced her gaze to meet his.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Heat flared in his eyes seconds before her mom asked him a question. After one long hungry look, he broke their contact and answered her mother.
Hell, being next to the man was like playing with dynamite. With merely a stare, he could set her body on fire. And in front of her family no less. A quick scan of the guests showed everyone consulting their menus—except for one.
Jinx, with a smile on her face, gave London what could only be described as a conspiratorial wink before dropping her gaze to her menu.
London swallowed a giggle. Should she feel embarrassed Jinx had caught her and Heath in a shared moment? Maybe. For London, knowing the handsome detective was equally attracted to her set her pulse racing, and it felt like…like she was riding a rollercoaster. Only there were no dips, just a race to reach ever higher.
After they’d ordered their meals, baskets of steamy garlic bread and platters of antipasto were placed on their table.
London offered the basket of bread to Harper and Heath, before taking a piece for herself. She turned to the café owner. “No Seth tonight?”
Harper shook her head. “He’s off on secret men’s business with Adam.” She leaned forward and glanced at Heath, whose face remained expressionless. “I’d have more chance of getting the nuclear launch codes than getting information from the Justice guys when they go ‘silent’.” She made air quotes with her fingers.
London turned to Heath. “Nothing to share?”
“Nope.” He sipped his beer and looked across the table at Mercy and Jinx who were in deep conversation.
“Hmm, is it because you won’t share, or you don’t know what Seth and Adam are up to?”
With the lazy grace of someone who held all the answers, Heath slowly turned his head to face her. “I’m thinking I’ll keep you guessing.” He grinned at her pout.
“And you think I’m contrary,” she muttered to herself, gaining a chuckle from Heath.
“She hates that.” Derek lifted his bottle of beer. “The not-knowing. Drives her nuts.” He swigged back a mouthful of his drink. “Made for a lot of fun growing up.”
“I bet it did.” Heath’s grin grew wider at her hard stare.
“You’re the devil.” London said to Derek before glancing at her girlfriends who were now watching the interplay between siblings. “Don’t believe my brothers’ good-guys act. I was the only girl to four boys. They were merciless to me growing up.”
Aidan made a scoffing sound. “Like you didn’t get your revenge.” He nodded to Derek. “Remember when she stole your model MiG fighter and drew the Wonder Woman logo all over it with colored markers?”
“Go, girlie!” Grandma Shaw shook her fist in the air, much to the delight of the women around the table.
Derek frowned. “I’d forgotten that happened.”
London snickered. “He ran to Dad and whined.”
“I didn’t whine.” Derek shifted in his seat. “I voiced my displeasure.”
His father grimaced. “Son, you yelled and carried on so much, I took all you boys fishing to give your mom some peace and quiet.”
“Amen to that.” Her mom rolled her eyes.
London nodded. “I hid my Barbies in the attic for two months after that. By the time I got them down, Derek had discovered girls and forgotten all about getting his revenge.”
Heath’s smile seemed wistful, almost sad. As if… Of course. How must it hurt seeing others reminisce about the kind of times he’d lost with the passing of his family.
Without thinking, London reached over and squeezed Heath’s hand. For a second he looked surprised, before he ran his finger over her hand in a gesture of… What? Thanks? Maybe acknowledgement that she understood?
A team of waiters delivered their entrees. As everyone started eating and chatting around the table, London glanced at Heath.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked quietly as he forked some of his pasta.
She debated sharing, but in the end, if she wanted to get to know the man better, eventually, the subject would come up. “You’re a conundrum to me, Detective.”
He stopped eating and turned his face to hers. “How so?”
“One minute you’re mister ice cool, always in control. Then I catch a glimpse of someone else, someone…vulnerable. And I realize I hardly know you.”
His gaze held hers, as if assessing her motives. “Give me an example.”
“Well…” God, how did she start this off? “…before, when I joked about Derek discovering girls. I caught the sadness in your smile and realized you have such different experiences from me because of the loss of your family.”
Heath stared at her a moment before answering. “I remembered teasing my older sister. Same with you guys, just in reverse.” He glanced at his plate before giving her his gaze once more. “And yes, those memories bring regret with them.”
Regret? At the memories of his loved ones? What an odd choice of word. A bittersweet joy would have been her choice.
At least he was sharing a part of himself. “Do you think about them often?”
“Yes.”
Sorrow filled her. Losing your family at such a young age? How tragic. “God, Heath, that’s—”
Heath shook his head. “Not in the way you think.” He shrugged. “Remembering them reminds me of who I am, where I came from, and who and what helped shape me.” Setting down his fork, he picked up his beer. “Now, tell me, did Derek have a Ken doll growing up? That would give me hours of payback in the squad room.” He smiled, taking any sting out of the change of topic.
But she understood. Everyone had their secrets. Or maybe more apt, had a limit of what they were willing to reveal at one time.
And whether Heath realized he’d shared such a big part of himself or not, she was thankful.
****
Heath swallowed down his mouthful of beer, not tasting the cold liquid as London said something about Derek preferring remote controlled trucks to Ken dolls.
Regret. Jesus. He’d actually used that term. “Those memories bring regret with them.” A piss-poor word to describe the gut-churning guilt he’d carried since that night seventeen years ago. One moment he’d been teasing his sister about her idiot boyfriend and the next…
“I take it Ken dolls didn’t feature in your childhood?” London bumped his arm with her shoulder, dragging him from his thoughts.
“Nope. I was into sports from a young age, footy mostly. Played as a kid, loved the game.” His bedroom had been decorated with posters and the maroon and white flag of his local rugby league football club. “The Manly Sea Eagles were my team.”
London’s snorted. “They were so tough they named themselves ‘Manly’?”
“No.” Heath chuckled. “Manly is a suburb on the northern beaches. It’s where I grew up.” He leaned closer to her, catching the scent of her light floral perfume. Feminine. Classy. “And don’t knock my team, woman. I already get grief from my brothers. The Sea Eagles are a team you either love or hate. My idiot brothers fall into the latter bunch.”
“Ah,” London nodded. “You think they’re jealous of your Manly-ness?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
The little writer had found a play on words and she was off. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“I’m thinking.” She pretended to ponder for a moment, before giving him a huge smile. “No. However, I’ll spare you the annoyance—for now. I’ll wait until your brothers are around for maximum impact.”
“Brilliant,” he muttered. This girl. How could a woman frustrate him so much and entrance him beyond distraction at the same time?
The rest of the meal passed in a blink for Heath. Put that down to the good company at their table, including London with her rich, full laugh and even more tempting body, outlined in exquisite detail by the clingy blue material of her top.
Heath knew bugger all about fashion; nevertheless, he had a fresh respect for Jinx and whatever the hell she did as a stylist in creating London’s look tonight. In that top and the long black skirt with the split up the side, London was a fucking knockout.
Sitting next to her during tonight’s meal had been an exercise in delight and torture. Dropping his gaze to London’s lap, he caught a flash of toned thigh courtesy of the inspired split in her skirt. Sensational legs. Feminine and soft, but toned.
How would it feel having her legs wrapped tight around him as he plunged his cock deep inside her?
Blood rushed to his groin. Christ. He prided himself on his level of self-discipline—a man avoided getting a hard-on in company—but his wandering thoughts had tested him tonight.
“Don’t laugh, Mercy, it’s true. I can’t walk in high heels. Do you know how I met Seth? I tripped and literally fell into his arms.”
Harper’s voice snagged Heath’s attention. The sweet café owner was smiling, enjoying herself. Heath was glad her attention had been distracted from her family’s dramas.
And as for Harper’s thoughts earlier on the whereabouts of Seth and Adam…
They were out hunting.
Adam had left a message on Heath’s phone, stating his brothers were chasing down a lead regarding the Russians and their involvement with Stanton Fox. The nightclub venture Fox had entered into with the Russians made no sense. Heath guessed the deeper Adam and Seth dug, the murkier the picture.
The waiter brought the bill to the table, and Kieran slapped his credit card into the small folder and thrust it at the waiter before anyone else could offer. “This is my daughter’s special evening, and her parents are paying for dinner. The end,” he declared.
Heath respected the man’s pride. At the next opportunity, he’d return Kieran’s generosity.
It wasn’t until he stood from the table that Heath noted he had reasoned at the next opportunity and not if.
Well…so be it.
He snagged London’s hand as their group walked out of the Pink Door. Right now, he wanted to know her better, seek out the things which made her laugh and the dirty secrets that made her blush.
Fuck yes, he wanted her blushing—as he spoke dirty to her, sank deep inside her, and as she begged to come.
This blushing would be purely sexual. Carnal. And she’d be desperate—for release, for pleasure.
For him.
Out in the alley, the streetlight above shined down on London, illuminating her hair into a glowing sheen of deep reds and golds. A late night breeze kicked up, lifting a few strands across her face. Heath couldn’t stop himself from gently sweeping them back. He ran his fingertips over the velvety skin under her ear before dropping his hand.
“Better.” His words came out as a gruff whisper.
London stared up at him, silent. Her tempting mouth was slightly open. How soft would her lips feel? All he had to do was run a finger…
A soft chime of someone’s cell phone dragged him out of his thoughts. He looked away, only to lock gazes with Derek. Long seconds passed before the fellow cop turned his attention to his parents.
Big brothers. They were protective bastards. No matter whose family they belonged to.
Joanne and Estelle Shaw exchanged hugs and kisses with everyone, including with Heath, before moving to stand next to Kieran’s SUV.
“Jinx, Harper, Cleo, do you need a lift back to your cars?” Kieran asked as he unlocked his vehicle and helped his mom into the back passenger side seat. Derek held the front passenger door open for his mom.
“Thank you, no. We’re having a sleepover at Harper’s tonight,” Cleo offered with a smile. “We have to walk off some of that delicious dinner to make way for the snacks we have in our overnight bags.”
“A sleepover?” Mercy, Aidan’s girlfriend, said as she stood next to London. “I haven’t done that since I was a kid.”
Harper grinned at the wistful note in the cute blonde’s voice. “You and London have got to join us next time,” Harper offered. “I have two sofa beds and a spare room. We can easily fit you in.”
“Fantastic.” London’s smile lit up her eyes, and not for the first time, Heath was charmed by the way her face shone with her happiness, like a kid unwrapping presents on Christmas morning. “We could do a movie marathon and feast on Mercy’s macadamia and toffee fudge. I swear the stuff’s addictive.”
“London’s right. Totally addictive,” Mercy added. “And an absolute necessity for a girls’ night in.”
“I’m sold.” Jinx nodded. “And Harper’s place is close to a couple of great clubs. We can check them out and then crash on those sofa beds.”
Jesus. Why did the last suggestion fill him with dread? Maybe because he’d seen Jinx demand his kill-first-ask-questions-later brother Adam put on a party hat and sing karaoke. Heath knew grown men who wouldn’t attempt such risky behavior. What trouble could the bubbly blonde get up to in a club? Then he remembered how he met London, nearly arresting her as she carried out her ‘research’. Christ, London and Jinx together could prove no end of disaster.
“Hey, I’m all for going clubbing.” Estelle Shaw poked her head out of the SUV’s back passenger window.
“God help us,” Kieran muttered under his breath as he closed the front passenger door, cutting off the sound of his wife’s giggling. “We’re leaving before any firm plans are made.”
“I’ll call you, Gran.” London waved as Estelle gave her a thumbs up.
“Let’s go, before Gran calls out for the women’s phone numbers.” Aidan chuckled as he tucked Mercy to his side and started walking back toward A New Chapter.
“No problem,” Jinx said with a grin. “I added everyone’s numbers to her phone and your mom’s during dinner.” Ignoring Aiden’s rueful groan, she leaned past Harper to catch Mercy’s gaze. “Mercy, I got your number from Estelle. Hope that’s okay?”
“Sure.” Mercy smiled. “I expect a call soon from one of you guys to arrange a sleepover.” She grinned at Aidan before adding, “Or maybe the club. We can’t let Estelle down now.”
The women’s laughter mixed with the good-natured sighs of the men. Heath chuckled as he once again captured London’s hand and walked the short distance to the bookstore.
There was something about the way her hand fit in his—the feel of her smoother skin on his, her acceptance at the firmness of his grip—that fired a primitive thrill deep in his soul. There was no denying London was a feminine woman. All curves, floral scents and the material clinging to her body—all of which made his blood heat and his mind crave her beyond measure.
Outside of the building housing Harper’s café and apartment, everyone shared more goodbyes. Harper whispered something to London that made her chuckle, but when he caught their gaze, both women pressed their lips together, as if forcing themselves not to smile.
Maybe later he’d enjoy interrogating those shared words out of London?
Heath watched the women enter Harper’s building, making sure the door clicked safely behind them.
Aidan and Mercy left as Derek kissed his sister on the forehead. He turned to Heath. “See you tomorrow. Early.”
Heath began to answer but was cut off by London.
“I’ll try to have him home at a respectable hour, but I can’t promise. See, I’ve done my yearly goals in my awesome Erin Condren planner. You know, the one decorated in dark gray with the pink and peach colored flowers?” She waved away her brother’s confused look. “Anyway, I’ve marked August as “Ravage a sexy, innocent man month.” She nodded, her expression earnest as she gazed at her brother. “I even got these super cute red lip stickers for when I hit my goal.” She bit her lip before imploring, “I really, really want to use that sticker, dude.”
Heath choked on a laugh as he saw the look of frustration on Derek’s face.
“Jesus, London.” Derek shook his head. Without another word, he headed to his car.
Heath studied his apparent would-be seducer.
London shrugged. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. A few times tonight I caught him and Aidan giving you their glowering big brother scrutiny. I thought it was about time I let them know I’m a grown woman, not a teenager.”
Heath, for one, needed no convincing.
He steered her toward his SUV. “I don’t mind the scrutiny. They’re your brothers. You could be fifty and they’d still give the evil eye to any guy who does more than sit next to you. That’s their job.”
She studied him with a gentle smile as he opened the front passenger door. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He stepped back to allow her to climb in, but she remained in place.
Her face softened in a mixture of shyness and pleasure. “For understanding.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a light kiss on the mouth.
Hell, he should be the one thanking Derek and Aidan.
“Red,” he gathered her against him, pleased at her quick intake of breath. “Any guy who acts otherwise is an arse.” With that, he set his mouth on hers, letting her feel the pressure of his kiss and taking his time doing so. Not until he felt her body relax against his did he lift his head. “Let’s get you home.”
She nodded, and Heath caught her smile as she turned and climbed into his vehicle.
During the drive home, they chatted about author and reader events, how she wanted to hold more in the future. When she asked how things were at work, Heath gave her scraps of information about his current case, but since most of the details were confidential, their discussion on that topic was limited.
In no time, Heath parked the SUV out front of her house and remained silent as he turned off the car’s engine. He could either walk her to the door, or take things further. It was up to London what happened next.
She glanced at the clock on the car’s dashboard. “It’s only nine-thirty. I know you’ve had a big day, but if you’d like some coffee or a beer?” There was a hint of expectation in her voice he found irresistible.
“A beer sounds great.” Heath climbed out and got her case from the back. He had her passenger door open and held her hand as she slid out of the SUV, again giving him another pleasing view of her legs courtesy of her choice of skirt.
She moved to swing her large tote over her shoulder. He grasped the carry-all, surprised at the weight. What the hell did women pack in these things? Since he wasn’t an idiot, he kept that question to himself and led her to the front door.
Heath glanced around. Dark. Plenty of shadows cast by the garden and the house. “Front light not working?”
The faint glow of light from the street allowed him to see her grimace. Okay. He’d save the lecture on personal safety until they were inside.
“The bulb in the sensor light blew a couple of days ago.” She fumbled with her front door key before opening the door and switching on the foyer light. Dropping her keys on the small dish on the hall table, she closed the door behind them. “If you could leave the case next to my bedroom door…” She stopped by a door to the right of the foyer, and he rolled the case into position. “Thanks. Let’s get some beers.” She led Heath down the hallway, entered a room near the end, and turned on more lights.
A large kitchen with plenty of windows, white cupboards and light blue walls greeted him. Pots filled with leafy green plants and potted herbs covered one windowsill. The space felt homey in a welcoming, relaxed way.
London walked to a large stainless steel fridge/freezer and pulled out two bottles of Manny’s Pale Ale. “Glass?”
“No, thanks.” He leaned a hip against the gray stone of the kitchen counter and watched as she grabbed a bottle opener, removed the caps and handed him the beer. He nodded his thanks and waited to see whether she headed into the living room or somewhere else.
Instead, she placed her beer on the counter and faced him. Seconds passed as she studied him.
“I wasn’t being contrary.” At his raised brow she continued. “Before, with the front light. Like everyone else, I like to see where I’m going.”
“Okay.” He sipped his beer…and waited.
“But the blub blew sometime Monday night, and I’ve been so busy and caught up in my writing that well…” She shrugged. “Sometimes things get left for later. But”—she lifted a finger—“I haven’t forgotten. And there’s my evidence.” She pointed toward a Post-it stuck on her fridge with the words ‘Sensor light change blub’ written in dark marker. “I may like to go with the flow, Detective, and not live a rigid, controlled lifestyle, but I don’t take stupid risks with my safety.”
Amusement lurked in his voice. “Sometimes I like your…contrariness.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, it drives you nuts.”
He laughed. “True.”
Her mouth twitched as she tried—and failed miserably—to fake a stern expression. “Detectives shouldn’t tell fibs. I may have to report you to your superior officer.”
A current of excitement shot through his body. Heath wasn’t a man to pass up such a sweet opportunity to push her further.
“Not if I take you into custody first.” He reached over and claimed her beer. Placing the bottle on the counter, he moved close, way close, forcing her to step backward, her lower back now pressed against the counter. His fingers circled her wrists, drawing them behind her and held them captive in one hand as his other cupped her chin.
A moment of worry flickered in her eyes. “I, er, that is—”
He lowered his head and seized her mouth in a slow, drugging kiss geared to melt any defiance she could muster. Slowly her body relaxed as she pressed against him.
Her half closed eyes and soft expression shot a stab of arousal straight to his cock. He deepened his voice to a low commanding tone. “Ms. Shaw, any steps I deem necessary can and will be used to place you exactly where and how I want you.”
Was that a tremor he felt as he held her? Very nice. “What…” She swallowed. “What if I resist?”
With that breathless voice? Sweet liar.
Heath sharpened his gaze. “There’s always my cuffs.”
Her mouth opened, and she let out a soft whimper. The sound was undeniable in the stillness of the kitchen. He noted no follow-up plea for release. London glanced anywhere to avoid his gaze. And all as a flush stole over her cheeks.
Such a beautiful sight.
Heath’s gaze dropped to her mouth before returning to her eyes. “Well, well. You like to play?”
She twisted her wrists in his grasp. He tightened his hold. Much like the strong grip he kept on his desire. He wouldn’t rush her.
“I don’t know,” London said. Her body’s reaction said otherwise. “Maybe.” She bit her lower lip. “Do you?”
“Yes.” His answer was direct and uncompromising. Now wasn’t the time for mixed messages. “I like having control.”
She took a moment to speak. Gaining courage? “I want you to show me. Tonight.”
He traced her bottom lip with one finger. Soft. Plump. “Plenty of ways a person can have fun playing. Tell me exactly what you want.” He needed her to say the words.
“I want you in my bed, and…” she rushed out, “…the kinky stuff.”
“Kinky stuff? Be more precise.” He couldn’t go easy on her when her safety and pleasure were at stake.
She licked her lips. “Your cuffs.”
There we have it. “This your first time experimenting with bondage?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded choked. Though not from fear. He could see the anticipation in the brightness of her gaze.
“Then we’ll take things slow. I like to be in charge in the bedroom. Let’s start there first.” He ran his finger over her chin, down her throat and rested it lightly just above her pulse point. Fast but steady. “You familiar with the term ‘safe word’?”
She nodded. “I’ve read plenty of BDSM romances. They normally use ‘red’.” She scrunched her nose. “But you use that for me.”
She clearly wanted her nickname used only for that purpose. Their shared connection to the nickname mattered to her. Jesus. Pure, unadulterated satisfaction flooded him. He wanted to charge out, hunt down a dragon, and lay it at her feet.
He’d never met another woman like London. One day she frustrated the hell out of him and the next left him speechless for the best of reasons.
“Then you pick a new word. Something I’d never confuse with anything else you’d cry out when my mouth’s on your pussy.”
Her lips parted as she stared at him.
Fucking cute.
“A word I’d never use when I’m close to climaxing?” She glanced down, and her brows furrowed as she took her time deciding before she looked up. “Dentist.”
Okay, he’d bite. “Bit of a phobia there?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He chuckled. Fair enough. “Then dentist it is.” Heath released his hold on her wrists and stepped back. “Go into your room. I’ll check the doors and join you.
“No need. Everything’s still locked from…” She broke off, silenced by his hard stare. “Right. You’re in control.”
She fled out of the kitchen, and Heath couldn’t hide his smile. London under his control and wanting to play. Let’s see how…contradictory she’d be now.