Caught by Surprise

by Deborah Smith

  He shrugged. He wore jeans and the white polo shirt he’d had on when he arrived in Paradise Springs, only now the shirt had a huge rip across the chest. A trickle of blood stained one corner of his mouth. George looked disheveled, but almost sleepy.

  Millie took a deep breath. “What happened, Bill?” she asked the owner.

  “McKay picked a fight with this gorilla. I thought they were going to kill each other, and they busted the crap outta my place.”

  Millie leveled a hard gaze at Brig, but found nothing but quiet scrutiny in his blue eyes. “Why?” she asked, her throat tight.

  “I like to fight, love.”

  “You’re on parole! You know that! Are you so thoughtless that you didn’t consider the consequences?”

  “It’s my own life.”

  “Right,” she said sardonically. Millie rubbed her forehead. “Bill, if Mr. McKay pays damages, will you forget about pressing charges?”

  “I don’t want any special treatment,” Brig said. “If he doesn’t press charges, I won’t pay the damages.”

  “Crazy Aussie bastard,” Bill said. “If that’s how he wants it, that’s how he’s got it.”

  Millie felt as if she might be sick. She gazed at Brig through narrowed eyes. “I never considered you a fool before. Brawling for fun is one thing, but risking your parole was just plain stupid.”

  “Be quiet, Melly, and do your job.”

  His reserved, almost taunting attitude whipped at her. She pulled out a set of handcuffs and motioned with her hand. For one instant, she wanted to turn and simply walk out of the bar. This felt wrong, so wrong. She didn’t want to do this to him.

  “Up, McKay.”

  He unfolded his athletic frame from the chair and stood, then put his hands out, waiting. Struggling for composure, Millie snapped the cuffs into place. Her skin felt like the cover of a drum, and she could tell that a massive headache was coming on. Millie nodded toward George Oliver.

  “Bill? This guy was just defending himself.”

  “That’s right,” George noted, and yawned.

  “Are you going to press charges?”

  “Hell, yes,” the bar’s owner said.

  George’s brows arched. All lassitude gone, he sat bolt upright in his chair. “Hey. It wasn’t my fault.”

  “You looked like you were enjoying it,” the owner sniffed. “I’m pressing charges.”

  “No need for that, mate,” Brig interjected. “It was my fight.”

  “I don’t care!” The owner looked at Millie and jerked his thumb toward George. “Arrest both of them!”

  George held up both hands and gazed at Brig in protest. “I didn’t bargain for this, man!”

  Millie squinted at him in bewilderment. “Bargain for what, Killer?”

  “Quiet, Killer,” Brig intoned.

  “What, Killer?”

  George gulped. “McKay, help me out! I got a family! I live around here! I don’t want a jail record!”

  Brig sighed, then cursed under his breath. He twisted around to face Millie. “Don’t haul him off. I paid him to fight. I wanted to break my parole so I could go back to jail.”

  “This boy spent too many years in the Australian heat,” Bill commented.

  Millie felt her knees go weak. “You’d give up a month of your precious freedom?” she asked hoarsely.

  Brig nodded. He wasn’t going to embarrass her in front of the two men, so he didn’t explain anything more. But she knew. He was willing to give up a month of freedom so that he could be close to her. Freedom was vital to him. He’d told her so. She knew how great a sacrifice he was offering.

  Her eyes burning, she looked toward the owner. “You can’t press charges against Mr. Oliver,” she told him. “It’s not fair.” After a moment, he nodded. “And you can be sure that Mr. McKay will pay the damages, so you don’t have to press charges against him.”

  “That’s not how I want it,” Brig said grimly. “No argument. I’m going back to jail.”

  “All I want is my damages!” Bill yelled.

  “You’ll get ’em, mate. Soon as you file charges.”

  Millie gave Brig a despairing look. Underneath his laid-back exterior was a nature as stubborn as her own. “Don’t do this. Please,” she said gruffly, begging him with her eyes. “No one deserves this kind of sacrifice.”

  Her meaning was clear. Brig answered in the same tone. “I’d rather give up my freedom than leave town alone.”

  Tenderness. Passion. Devotion. Millie felt all three with an intensity that shocked her. She knew suddenly that to be wanted by this man was a blessing. Every moment she spent with him could only enrich her life, and even if their time together didn’t last, she’d count herself lucky to have been cherished by him. A sense of certainty brought enormous peace to her.

  She smiled calmly and nodded. “If that’s the way you want it, Brig, let’s go.”

  He gave her abrupt change of mood a quizzical frown, but said nothing. She put one small hand on his brawny forearm and guided him out of the bar. He got into the patrol car’s backseat, and she shut the door behind him. The bar’s owner came outside, and Millie told him she’d be back the next morning to write up the paperwork.

  She drove away without glancing at Brig and began to hum.

  “You don’t have to sound so happy about things, love,” he grumbled.

  “I’m not the one locked in the back of a patrol car with my hands cuffed. Why shouldn’t I be happy?”

  “I know you don’t care about me the way I care about you, but you can make it less damned obvious.”

  “Is that how you interpret humming? My, you’re oversensitive.”

  “I don’t expect you to fall at my feet and worship, but a little appreciation would be nice.”

  “You mean because you broke up a bar on my behalf? It’s not too late to convince the owner to drop the charges.”

  “Hell, no. I’m stayin’ in your jail where I can do my best to seduce you. I’m gonna ruin you for any other man. I’m gonna turn you inside out until you can’t think of anything but doin’ what I tell you to do.”

  “Whew!” She grinned. “What confidence.”

  “What drivin’. You just missed the turnoff to the jail.”

  “I know.”

  “Where are you draggin’ me off to?”

  “I’ve sold you into slavery. A wealthy widow in Miami wants to add you to her harem. She has a thing for men with Aussie accents and bad tempers.”

  “Melisande,” he said warningly.

  “It’s a surprise.” She chuckled. “A surprise by Surprise.”

  “I’m goin’ to jail. I won’t change my mind, no matter what you do to me.”

  “Oh, yes, you will.”

  He swore colorfully and asked questions, none of which she answered. A few minutes later Millie steered the patrol car into her own driveway. When they reached the cottage, she got out, opened the back door, and motioned to Brig.

  “Move it, McKay.”

  His eyes were alight with intrigue as he maneuvered out of the seat. “What the hell?”

  “Quiet. Do as you’re told. Into the house.” He eyed her askance but headed for the front door. Millie opened it and waved him inside. He stopped in the living room and she prodded his back. “Keep going.”

  “Where?”

  “Bedroom.”

  A disbelieving half-smile began to ease the hardness from his expression. “Oh.” He strode into the bedroom with her right behind him. “What now?”

  “Sit on the side of the bed.”

  He did as she ordered. The room was shadowy and cool. The air vibrated with anticipation. “Melisande, what are you gonna do with me?” he asked gruffly, and the tone of his voice made it obvious that he wouldn’t protest.

  Her eyes glowing, she knelt in front of him and gently took his face between her small, strong hands. “You’re my prisoner, now,” she whispered.

  Seven

  Brig quivered at the soft touch of her
fingers caressing his jaw and the adoration gleaming in her green eyes. He raised his face toward heaven and said heartily, “Thank you, Mate.”

  She melted with laughter and desire. “Brig. Oh, Brig.” Millie nestled between his knees and rested her head against his chest.

  “You’re not just doin’ this because you feel sorry for any man crazy enough to do what I did today?” His voice was husky.

  She tilted her head back and gazed at him raptly. Millie brought one hand to her mouth, wet the fingertips with her tongue, then began wiping away the dried blood at the corner of his lips. He exhaled softly, affected by her technique.

  “I don’t feel sorry for you,” she murmured. “I feel sorry for coldhearted, lonely little Millie Surprise.”

  Brig twisted his head and kissed her palm. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know how I’ve lived twenty-nine years without you.”

  Another shudder ran through him. His shoulders flexed against the restraint of the handcuffs. “Undo me, Melisande, and we’ll both find out what we’ve been missin’.”

  With a little cry of pleasure, she rose slightly and pressed her mouth to his. They traded a desperate, almost violent kiss as she fumbled for the cuff key in a pocket of her trousers.

  “Wait,” she urged.

  “Wait’ isn’t part of my vocabulary right now.”

  She kissed him quickly, sucking the tip of his tongue as he thrust forward, trying to snare her for another long moment. “Wait,” she said again.

  “Woman, I’ve waited for weeks!”

  Millie unlocked the cuffs. The metal contrivance slid off the bed and landed on the floor with a rattle. Brig quickly held out his arms.

  “Com’ere, Melisande,” he ordered hoarsely.

  She flung herself at him, giving roughness because it was desired, digging her fingers into his shoulders as he jerked her tightly to him and bent his head to hers. He dragged his fingers down her back and cupped her rump with both hands. She met his mouth with a wantonness that made his fingers squeeze her rhythmically. She had only one mission in the world, and that was to pleasure him and be pleasured in return.

  They fell back on the bed together, with one of his long legs curved possessively over her lower body. He slid both arms around her as she raised her face to his hungry mouth. In between kisses he muttered lightly, “Ow. Ow. Hell. Ow. It stuck me. I knew it.”

  “What?”

  “Your badge, love.” He laughed, and the deep sound sent delicious shivers skating across her stomach.

  Millie tucked her chin and gazed at the area where his chest pressed snuggly to her own. “I think we need fewer dangerous clothes between us.”

  He snaked a hand into her hair and tilted her head back. For a moment he trailed kisses along the curve of her throat, making inarticulate sounds of happiness when he heard her moan.

  “Please tell me that you’re off duty,” he deadpanned.

  “I’m all yours until morning.”

  “And then?” He looked at her with the hunger of a man anticipating a feast.

  She whimpered at the thought of sharing that feast. “I’ll have to go back to work.”

  “Oh.” He gave her a slow, devastating smile. “I thought you meant something important. But work’s okay. You go, I’ll wait for you to come back.”

  “In bed?” she whispered.

  “In bed.” His voice dropped to a sexy rumble. “Naked and ready. Waitin’ for you to come home from work tomorrow.”

  She moved reflexively at the idea, her hips rising against the weight of his leg. His eyes darkened and he buried his face in her neck, nibbling. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, love. We’ve got a lot of naked-and-ready to take care of today.” He lifted his head suddenly and frowned. “What about returnin’ the patrol car?”

  Millie sank her fingers into his hair and stroked lazily. “I should call Charlie right now and tell him that I’m keeping it overnight. Raybo lets the deputies do that occasionally.”

  Brig reached for the phone on her bedside table. Snatching the receiver up, he held it within her reach. “I want you to get your work chores done and forgotten.” His expression was incredibly tender but demanding. “I want you to concentrate on nothing but what I’m gonna do to you.”

  The breath soughed out of her, and she could only nod blankly. Millie wasn’t sure what numbers she punched into the phone. Her attention was riveted to Brig’s searing gaze. He put the phone to her ear and began kissing her. Charlie answered.

  Millie dragged her mouth away from Brig’s and cleared her throat. “Charlie?” she squeaked in something approximating Minnie Mouse’s voice. She shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the muffled sound of Brig’s laughter, buried in the bedspread beside her head. “Charlie,” she said in a more normal tone. “I took care of the problem at the Happy Mac.”

  They both heard Charlie’s booming voice say, “Where’s Brig?”

  He and Millie shared a contemplative look. “With me,” she said finally. “He’s going to pay damages at the bar. There won’t be any charges filed. Charlie, I’m keeping the car overnight, if that’s all right.”

  There was silence for a moment. Then there was only the sound of Charlie whooping with glee. Brig smiled and grabbed the phone from her. “G’night, mate!” he yelled cheerfully. Then he slammed the phone back on its base.

  “Back to the good stuff,” he said with happy lechery.

  Millie laughed, feeling delirious. “Oh, boy.”

  Brig felt the wild trembling of her body as he unbuttoned her shirt, and he reveled in the knowledge that he could create such vivid emotion in a woman who prided herself on control. He drew her shirt open and watched the harsh rise and fall of her chest. Her full breasts strained against the material of her bra. Brig dipped his head and nestled kisses between them.

  “Melisande,” he said huskily, his lips on her skin. “All I expected was for you to take me back to jail today. After the way you’ve been holdin’ me off, what changed your mind?”

  His lips gauged the shiver that ran through her. “I finally admitted to myself that every minute I get with you is precious,” she whispered. She feathered one hand over his hair, stroking, while the other hand slid back and forth across the hard terrain of his shoulders. “No matter what happens later, I have to be with you.”

  “Well stay together. We’re suited to each other.” He raised his head and studied her with eyes drenched in tenderness. “I promise.”

  “Don’t promise,” she begged in a barely audible voice.

  He frowned mildly, then forced himself to nod. “We’ll make love, and let the future see to itself.”

  “Yes.”

  Her shirt lay open like a vest. Brig braced himself on one elbow and slid a hand up her quivering stomach. “How do you want me, Melly? Fast or slow? Rough or gentle?”

  She moaned. “I didn’t know I had so many choices.” His large, expert fingers slipped under the flimsy material of her bra and tugged the garment off center. Giving her a strained, devilish little smile, he caressed the breast he’d exposed.

  “Speak up,” he ordered gruffly.

  Her eyes, glazed with emotion, fluttered shut, then opened to squint at him with halfhearted rebuke. “Fast and gentle,” she murmured.

  The color darkened in his face, giving him a hungry, intense look that was purely masculine and highly erotic. “I hoped you’d say that.”

  He hurriedly removed her shirt and bra, tossing them to the floor. She gripped his torn polo shirt and pulled it over his head. Millie ran her hands down his chest, enjoying the luxurious contrast of hair and hard muscle. “Did Killer Cretin hurt you?”

  “Will you kiss every spot that aches?” She nodded, smiling. He rolled onto his back. “Here.” Brig pointed to the center of his chest.

  “Poor baby,” she crooned. Her heart racing, Millie bent her head over his naked torso and lapped at the spot with her tongue, then pressed a damp kiss to it. His back
arched slightly, and she let her gaze trail down to his jean-covered hips. The symbol of his readiness made a large and impatient hill in the flat expanse of his groin.

  She reached out slowly and covered it with her hand. “Does this ache?” she whispered.

  He shuddered wildly. “Is a crocodile mean?”

  “Is this like a crocodile?”

  Brig chuckled hoarsely. “It’s dangerous, for sure.”

  Millie planted small kisses down to his navel. He was delightfully hairy, and she loved the uninhibited way he groaned when she nuzzled her nose in the dark fur on his stomach. “I love danger,” she assured him, as she unzipped his jeans and touched him. He chuckled, the sound strained. She stretched out beside him, her face burrowed in his shoulder. “That’s one magnificent crocodile,” Millie noted in an awed tone.

  “You’re makin’ the ache worse, not better.” He rolled onto his side, took her in a fierce embrace, and kissed her until she sagged weakly against him.

  “I ache too,” she managed to say against the heated caress of his lips.

  Within seconds he had her stripped naked and trembling under his hand. “You feel like warm cream,” he whispered, as his fingers explored intimately. He sank his mouth onto one of her nipples.

  Her body’s sweet agony played havoc with coherent thought. “F-fast,” she reminded him, her hands trying desperately to touch every exposed inch of his chest and arms.

  With a growling sound of anticipation he sat up and began tugging at his boots. “I’ve got to get me toes free.”

  “Had you planned to use them in some way?”

  He stopped long enough to kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. “You never know, Melly, you never know.”

  Laughing helplessly, Millie knelt in front of him and grabbed one boot between her hands. She had always sensed that Brig was the kind of man who’d bring both gentleness and earthy humor to bed. The thought of what they were about to share made her pant lightly. He slung a boot onto the floor and sat still. Millie looked up to find his eyes on her parted lips and flushed, naked body. His expression drew tight, as if in pain.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked quickly.

  He inhaled with a rough sound. “I could lose control just lookin’ at you. I’ve never felt like this before.”