SAY AHHH...

by Donna Sterling

  Connor growled and surged toward him.

  Sarah clutched his arm fiercely, desperate to hold him back. She'd noticed that Grant had reached into his sport jacket. She'd seen him reach that way before … when he'd shot Jack. Her mouth dry with terror, she whispered, "He has a gun."

  Connor shoved her behind him and tried to hold her there as he glowered at Grant. "I have a matter to discuss with you," he said curtly, "but I want her out of here first."

  Grant ignored what he'd said and gazed past him to Sarah. "He's the one, isn't he?" he asked her. "The one you fell in love with. The one you did it with."

  Connor lunged at him, toppling him backward. Jack leaped from the shadows, shoved Sarah to the ground and sprawled across her to keep her down. She sobbed and struggled to break free, wanting to shield Connor from danger. She fully expected to hear a gunshot at any moment.

  The fight, however, ended as quickly as it had begun. Connor dug his knee into Grant's back, twisted his arms behind him and pushed his face down into the grass. "Don't you ever, ever, talk to Sarah that way," he thundered between clenched teeth, wrenching Grant's arms with every inflection. "Don't you touch her, don't you call her, don't you come anywhere near her, or I'll kill you. Do you understand that?"

  Grant grunted an acknowledgement.

  Jack, meanwhile, released his hold on Sarah and lumbered to his feet. She saw him bend to pick up an object from the grass.

  A gun.

  A shudder went through her.

  Jack sauntered to a motorcycle in the driveway and dropped the gun into a pouch. Strolling back with a cell phone, he called the police. "I'll take over from here, Doc," he drawled, slipping the phone into a pocket inside his leather vest. "It would give me the greatest of pleasure."

  Sarah watched the men exchange places and trade wry quips, although Connor's gaze continued to simmer with anger as he looked down at their captive. How in the world, she wondered, had Connor ever hooked up with Jack?

  After his fight, looking tough and exquisitely virile with a sheen of sweat glinting on his muscled forearms and sun-darkened face, a lock of his tawny hair falling forward over one eye, Connor strode to Sarah, extended a strong hand and helped her up.

  "Were you hurt?" He brushed the grass off her skirt and vest, touching her here and there in a quick, expert check for injuries. "You took one hell of a tackle."

  With a shaky laugh, she stopped him from sweeping her skirt aside to examine her knees. "I'm fine, Doc. I swear it."

  Tenderness warmed his gaze as he met her smile. "Let's wait in my car until the police get here."

  Gratefully she accepted his strong arm around her waist as they walked to the Jaguar. She settled against his lean, muscular body with a pleasing familiarity. She wanted him nearer still. She wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him. Love him.

  "The wedding's off, Sarah," Grant hollered from where Jack held him captive, his voice somewhat muffled by the grass. "You blew it. I can't marry you now."

  She was surprised to hear his voice—she'd almost forgotten he existed—and her heart beat a happy little tattoo at the news. Never had a rejection filled her with such relief.

  Grant then chided Connor in a tone of scathing mockery, "You can have her, mister!"

  Connor stiffened, his fists clenched and his bottom lip curled. Sarah laid a gentling hand on his arm. "It's actually not too bad a suggestion … is it?"

  He turned his warrior stare toward her, and within seconds, it softened and warmed. His lips even curved into the start of a smile. "Only if it's true," he replied hoarsely, his gaze pressing into hers. "Can I have her?"

  Her breath caught in her throat. She loved him so much! "I don't see why not. I know now that I'm not married. I don't understand how I could have forgotten that I'd walked out of the chapel, but—"

  Connor turned her against the car and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and melted against him. He closed his eyes and reveled in the taste of her. When the need and the longing to make love to her again grew too intense, he lifted his head to catch his breath and remind himself of where he was.

  Heaven, he realized, gazing deeply into the eyes he'd thought he'd never see again. He had plunged into hell, and had somehow ended up in heaven. "What about that other thing Tierney said," he whispered, "when he asked if you were in love with me? I didn't hear your answer."

  The sweetest, warmest tenderness prompted her smile. "I fell in love with you the first time you looked into my eyes. I think it was with one of those scope lights."

  He smiled, feeling the happiness take root deep within him. "I fell in love with you," he disclosed, "the first time you said 'Ahhh.'" He pressed a kiss to her nose. "And the second time." He rained kisses along her eyelids. "And the third." He nipped and tugged at her mouth, the heat in him growing serious. "I can't wait until the fourth."

  They met in a hot, yearning kiss—one that only made their need for each other more urgent.

  "I love you, Sarah," he swore. "You're a part of me that I'd die without. I want you in my life, in my bed. Marry me."

  "Okay," she breathed.

  They lost themselves in each other.

  "Aw, jeez," Jack muttered, coming up behind them, "you two can really pick your places. I'll bet you didn't even realize that half-a-dozen police cars just drove off with their sirens blaring."

  Separating only as far as necessary, Connor and Sarah cast Jack a slightly dazed glance.

  "Your point?" asked Connor.

  Jack gave a rueful laugh. "The police took Tierney. I guess I'll be going down to the station to answer some questions, then heading out on the open road. Can't say it hasn't been interesting."

  Connor grasped his hand warmly, patted his back and thanked him. Sarah hugged him, swore eternal gratitude and made him promise to visit.

  He turned toward his motorcycle, keys in hand, then pivoted back. "Oh, by the way, Doc…"

  "Yeah?" replied Connor.

  "Actually, I was talking to Sarah."

  Connor raised a quizzical brow. "Did you call her 'Doc'?"

  Sarah bit her lip to stifle a smile as more memories fluttered back to her.

  "Didn't she tell you?" Jack asked, blatantly enjoying himself. "She's a pet psychologist. An animal behaviorist. A critter shrink. Ph.D."

  With a pleased twist of his mouth, Connor tilted his head and stared at her, duly impressed. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

  "Sure you won't mind?" she teased. "We'll be Dr. and Dr. Wade."

  They laughed. He kissed her—just a brief caress of their lips—but their gazes held and grew tender again.

  Jack shook his head in mock censure. "Before you two get all lovey-dovey, I just wanted to tell Dr. Sarah, here, that my alligator is doing much better since the last time we talked about him."

  "Great!" She regarded him with bright interest. "Has he stopped chasing cars?"

  "No, but we've closed the beach to traffic. Problem solved."

  She poked her tongue against her cheek. They exchanged droll looks. Jack lifted a hand in goodbye and sauntered toward his bike.

  "Hey, Jack," Connor called out. "Just out of curiosity, what do you do for a living?"

  Swinging his leg over the huge black-and-chrome Harley, he settled onto the leather seat and pulled the helmet down on his shaggy blond head. Just before he cranked up the engine, he replied, "Orthopedic surgery."

  With a flash of a smile, he lowered the shield of his helmet and blasted off down the drive.

  Connor turned a stunned look on Sarah. "He's a surgeon?"

  She cocked her head. Her eyes sparkled merrily at him. "Didn't I mention that?"

  He dragged her to him with playful sternness. "No, ma'am. I don't believe you did." He ran his hands down her back and around to her hips, molding her body intimately to his. "There's quite a few things you forgot to mention."

  Thoroughly distracted by the feel of his muscle-hard body against hers and the seduction of his heated stare, she barely
managed to whisper, "Like what?"

  "Like your full, real name." He brushed his mouth in a lingering path across hers, inciting a riot of sensual reaction in her. "Where you're from," he whispered against her ear before swirling his tongue inside it. "How long I have to wait before I'm inside you again."

  She answered his last question first—to his full satisfaction—with action rather than words.

  They'd have a lifetime to fill in the less important details.

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