by Nina Bruhns
Good. Maybe his hunger would distract him from the fantasies that had been playing in his brain ever since he’d asked Mary Alice if she loved him. What would she have said if they hadn’t been interrupted? God, he wanted to rush home and find out.
He dragged the last pear out of his bag and demolished it in four bites, tossing the stem next to the empty thermos. “Watson’s going to have to start strapping bags on the ski rack at the rate he’s going,” he muttered.
Deane passed him one of the two sodas he’d just purchased while checking out Watson inside the deli. “This’ll be the last one, guaranteed.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He’s buying caviar. On ice.”
Bridge shot him a grin. “Hot damn, we’ll make a detective out of you yet, Deane.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I better call Mary Alice and see if anyone’s dropped off my truck.”
The Deane kid had the audacity to snicker.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Aw, hell, Sarge. It don’t take a detective to spot that Magnum you’re packing just thinking about her.”
Bridge sighed in the face of irrefutable physical evidence. “Sometimes a man can be too good at his job, rookie.” He hit the speed dial for Mary Alice’s number. “It’s me.”
“Bridge! Are you all right?”
“Everything’s fine. I should be back soon. Listen, is the truck back in the cut-out yet?”
“Yeah. Someone from the station dropped it off a while ago.”
“Good. Watson’ll never know I was gone.”
“Should I heat up some dinner? Are you hungry?”
“Ravenous.”
Deane snickered again, and Bridge realized he’d lowered his voice to a suggestive drawl. He cut the kid a warning look, but smiled to himself. What the hell. May as well bite the bullet and admit to the world how he felt. Obviously he was a total bust at hiding it. “See you soon.”
“Thanks for calling. I feel so much better knowing you’re okay.”
“I’m glad. And Angel?”
“Yes?”
“Looking forward to finishing our conversation.”
Stop in the Name of Love: Chapter Forty
Mary Alice heard the dial tone in her ear and mentally scraped herself off the ceiling. Oh, lord. Was he really going to make her answer?
What would she say?
Did she love him?
Of course she did. Madly. But should she actually say the words out loud? Hell, no.
Everything had been just fine...as long as she thought all the feelings were one-sided—her side—and that all he was interested in was a short, sweet, physical affair. Emphasis on short. And physical.
Sure, she’d be hurt when he left, but ending it was for the best.
However, she feared his insistence on her answering his question could only mean one thing—that he wanted to take a chance on being together.
And maybe...just maybe...that he loved her, too.
Love changed everything.
Didn’t it?
No doubt he would expect her to accept his job along with him. But she knew she couldn’t deal rationally with his life as a cop. She was already so frightened that he would be taken from her. Just as all the other men she’d ever loved had been. She couldn’t go on if he were hurt, too.
And what about his promise to his mother? He’d told her he had made a vow never to marry. Never to put another woman through what his mother had gone through with his father.
So what kind of relationship did he have in mind? He didn’t want to get married, and she didn’t want an affair. How could they possibly hope to make this work? She had to be a fool even to consider getting more involved with him.
Yet, the thought of losing him caused a pain in her heart so great it threatened to completely undo her resolve.
What she needed was some advice, and fast. Before he got home.
She dialed Nancy’s number in a blind panic.
“Oh, Nan, what have I gotten myself into?” she moaned after telling her all the gory details.
“Sounds like you’ve gotten yourself into the best thing that could possibly have happened to you, girl. Don’t fight it. Grab your chance at happiness and enjoy it while you can.”
There was a poignantly sad edge to her friend’s voice. Mary Alice pried her mind off her own problems long enough to ask about Nancy’s. “How’s Ben? Have you gotten his new test results?”
“Yes, today. Oh, Mac, I’m so worried. The big spot on his x-ray is a tumor right next to his heart, and the doctor says it might not be operable. We have to meet with her tomorrow to go over options.”
“Oh, Nancy, I’m so sorry. Here, I am prattling on about my silly troubles, and you’re facing that.”
“I’m glad you called, really. It’ll give me something nice to think about. Seriously, hon, don’t let Bridge get away from you because of something that happened in the past, or what might or might not happen in the future. Be strong and live for today. Today might be all you ever get. If this is the real thing, don’t miss the opportunity for love, however short that time may be.”
Stop in the Name of Love: Chapter Forty-One
When Bridge walked through the door, dropped his bag and held out his arms to her, Mary Alice forgot all about her anxiety and the problems left to be solved, and ran to him.
Nancy was right. It was time Mary Alice accepted that hiding from life was not being tough. It was being a coward. She loved Bridge, and had to take this chance with him, even if it meant having to make adjustments, and risk being hurt.
His lips met hers and she surrendered, giving herself into his care, surrounding herself with his strength. With her kisses she told him she desperately wanted to be his.
She had stars in her eyes when Bridge finally let her up to catch her breath, and her mind was in orbit somewhere above their heads. “We’re both completely crazy, you know that, right?”
“Yep.” He let out a deep sigh, giving her another hug. “I am, anyway. About you.” When he looked like he wanted to say more, she quickly led him into the kitchen. She wasn’t ready to face that part yet.
He kissed her hair as she fixed him a plate. “Smells great.”
“It’s lasagna.”
“Mmm, that smells good, too.”
She smiled, and suddenly wished that after her shower she’d put on something a little more sexy than flannel PJs and Snoopy slippers.
She watched as he peeled off his jacket and settled at her table, all legs and shoulders and dark bedroom eyes. She was swamped by desire. Even the sight of his gun and badge boldly displayed on his chest couldn’t deter her longing for him.
Lord, she wanted him. She’d probably regret it in the morning, but tonight she wanted to revel in this new feeling of being totally out of control. Tomorrow was soon enough to figure out where to take it from here. Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with a reality neither of them could live with.
Stop in the Name of Love: Chapter Forty-Two
After dinner, Mary Alice settled next to Bridge on the sofa in the living room.
He put an arm around her and fingered the collar of her PJs. “That was delicious. Now, what’s for dessert?”
Leaning back on his arm, she smiled coyly. “I’ve got some chocolate chip cookies.”
He ran a forefinger down her sleeve. “I had my heart set on something a little hotter.”
“Coffee?”
“Sweeter.” He unbuttoned the top button of her top and nuzzled her neck.
When she put her hand on his chest his gun nudged her. She touched it tentatively. “You’re still on duty, Detective Sergeant Bridger.”
“Only until the lights go out at Watson’s place.” Lifting his head, he checked his watch, then glanced down at her hand. “Until then, you, uh, wanna play with my weapon, little girl?”
She squelched a giggle. “Is it loaded?”
He grinned. “Hell, yeah. Full barrel.”
&nbs
p; “In that case, better not. Wouldn’t want it to go off accidentally.”
“It does like a light touch.” His eyelids went to half mast, his thick lashes casting long shadows on his cheekbones. He tipped her chin up and kissed her long and slow.
A warm, delectable lethargy seeped into her limbs as she nestled there in the crook of his arm, his lips roaming over hers. All the reservations she’d had about letting down her guard and allowing herself to be swept into this frightening, wonderful experiment seemed suddenly trivial. How could this possibly be wrong? It felt so right. She sought his mouth and pulled him close, losing herself in his taste.
After a long time, Bridge gave a groan and pulled away, dropping his head onto the back of the couch. “Baby, we’ve got to stop or I won’t make it till lights-out.”
She snuggled up against him, basking in the earthy male smell of him. But a last niggling doubt kept prodding at the back of her mind. “Bridge, should we talk about this?”
“Probably. But I’m afraid if we do, we’ll talk ourselves right out of it.” Taking a deep breath he looked down at her. “Honey—”
Before he could get any further, she said, “We both know everything’s against it working.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not everything.” Flashing her a sly look, he reached across the coffee table and slid over the vase of roses she’d put there earlier. He pulled out the ribbon she’d forgotten about that dangled down from among the flowers. “I wonder what’s tied at the end?”
She glanced at it uncertainly.
“Go on.”
When she gave it a tug, a small box appeared. She sucked in a breath. “What’s this?”
“Open it and see.”
Her hands shook as she held it, contemplating the possibilities. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that the box was the wrong shape to be a ring.
Impatient, he pulled off the ribbon for her, and she tore the paper from around it.
Inside, two shiny gold apples winked back at her, dangling brilliantly from a pair of gold earrings. “Oh, Bridge. They’re lovely. But I couldn’t possibly accept these, they’re—”
“Sure, you can.” Pushing her hair back from around her ears, he carefully removed the porcelain ladybugs she was wearing and slipped one gold wire through the hole in her earlobe. “Just a couple of apples for the teacher, that’s all.”
The corner of her lip turned up. “You wouldn’t be angling for teacher’s pet, would you?”
He nibbled on her other earlobe then slid its earring home. “No. I’m angling to pet the teacher,” he whispered, pulling her close.
A small, needy sound escaped her throat.
He dragged his wet tongue around the shell of her ear. “Want to know why I chose these little apples?” He caught her earlobe between his teeth, apple and all, and sucked.
She felt the erotic pull clear to her center. “Why?” she managed.
He played his tongue over the heavy ball of the earring. “Because they remind me of the tips of your breasts when I get you excited. Hard, round, smooth.” He rubbed his thumb over her breast and streaks of electricity shot through her body. “Like they are now.”
She moaned his name, melting into his arms, her own arms winding around his neck. “Every time I wear them I’ll think of you touching me.”
And she would, too. For the rest of her life she’d have this reminder of Bridge and how he made her feel, inside and out.
He plowed his fingers through her loose hair, holding her face in his hands. He kissed her then. A long, demanding kiss that swamped her with its urgency.
“I want to touch your breasts,” he murmured hotly, “and everywhere else.”
Her body shivered against his. “Yes,” she whispered.
“I won’t walk away, I promise you. I was so wrong before. I want you, Angel. I want to be with you.”
She held him tight. “I want you, too, Bridge. More than anything.”
“Tonight,” he coaxed, crashing through her fears and reservations. “Tonight, when Watson’s lights go out and I’m back from my night check. I want to come to your bed and find you naked and willing, waiting for me to touch you all over. Waiting for me to make love to you.”
A wall of desire nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.
Today might be all you ever get. If this is the real thing, don’t miss the opportunity...
Mary Alice closed her eyes and surrendered. Yielded to the unstoppable emotions flooding her heart. She belonged to Russell Bridger in every way that mattered. She wanted more than anything to confirm that possession in the most fundamental of ways. Regardless of the cost to her heart.
“Come to me tonight, Bridge,” she whispered tremulously. “Make me truly yours.”
Stop in the Name of Love: Chapter Forty-Three
When Bridge came to her, his half-nude body tall and shadowed and completely filling her bedroom doorway, Mary Alice had to swallow twice to push her heart from her throat back down to where it belonged.
He stopped in the doorway, backlit by the hall light like a Hollywood movie hero. His freshly washed hair glistened, the grooves left by his comb alternating silver and black. A bundle was tucked casually under his arm and he held a pair of boots in one hand. A fresh hint of soap along with a dark note of musky spice wafted through the dim, silent room to tease her nostrils.
He looked like a man who’d come prepared and was planning to stay awhile.
Mary Alice sat up on the bed and hugged the thin summer quilt to her chest. Her nakedness under it felt strange—exciting. In her whole life, she’d never done anything quite this premeditatedly daring. Their first time, she and Bridge had come together so quickly she hadn’t had a spare moment to consider what was happening. And with Jack, sex had always been more of a pleasant, comfortable pastime than this overpowering physical need she felt for the man who now gazed heatedly at her from the doorway.
“Still time to change your mind,” he said in a low voice that dared her to try.
She could see the ridge of his powerful arousal pushing at his jeans, and in her final second of rational thought she wondered how he found the strength to stand there unmoving and wait for her reply.
Fearing her vocal chords were as paralyzed as the rest of her, she shook her head. She had no intention of changing her mind.
Slowly, she drew the quilt from her body, letting her actions speak for her.
He stood a moment longer, watching the quilt’s descent, his gaze stroking over her bare skin as ardently as she hoped his hands would soon be doing. He dropped his boots with a dull thud, closed the door, and approached the bed. The shadow of his Adam’s apple slid down his throat and back up before he tore his eyes from her and searched for a place to put the bundle.
Unrolling the flannel shirt holding it together, he took out a few things that had been wrapped inside, then opened the drawer of her nightstand and slung the shirt over it, sliding his cell phone into the breast pocket. As she held her breath, he carefully placed the other items on top of the nightstand. In a sliver of moonlight slanting through the bedroom window, the dark objects took shape. She recognized his alarm beeper, his badge, his gun in its shoulder holster, and finally the box of condoms from the bathroom.
It was an explosive combination.
Her heartbeat thundered in sudden consternation.
Oh, Lord, what was she doing?
She was about to have sex with a big, dark, dangerous male who stared death in the face every day. A cop, whose uncertain job could snatch him away from her at any moment on a whim of fate.
A man who made her tremble just looking at him.
She clutched the edge of the quilt and inched backward, staring first at him, then at the dreaded grouping on the nightstand.
Several seconds went by as her thoughts whirled. He moved to the side of the bed and peered intently at her. Even in the dimness of the room she could see concern on his face, mixed with the hard edge of desire.<
br />
Concern.
She licked her lips, regaining control. She deliberately calmed herself.
This wasn’t some cold, jaded stranger she was accepting into her bed. It was Russell Bridger, the man she loved. The man she loved so much she was willing to overlook the small detail of his having the one profession she’d thought she could never accept in a mate.
And no, they weren’t about to have sex.
They were about to make beautiful love.
Stop in the Name of Love: Chapter Forty-Four
Mary Alice took a deep breath and met Bridge’s gaze.
His pulse almost stopped dead. He could practically hear the gears turning in her mind, the last-minute argument she was having with herself about whether to take this chance on him or not.
What would she decide?
He hated the apprehension he saw in her expression. Especially a moment ago when she’d caught sight of his little array of props on the nightstand. But he’d had to do it. He needed to be absolutely certain this was what she wanted. That she could take him as he really was, and not as she wished him to be. He wouldn’t start this relationship under false pretenses. That wouldn’t be fair to either of them.
Nervously holding his own explosive feelings under tight rein, he observed the emotions vying for dominance in her eyes.
He hoped like hell that love would wind up the winner. Or at least hope. Hope for a future with him.
When she looked up, he tamped down on an almost desperate need to influence her decision in his favor. As casually as he could manage, he asked, “How’d I come out?”
A small smile relaxed the tension in her expression. She released her fingers from their white-knuckled grip on the quilt and stretched out her hand to him. “On top.”
The corner of his lip curved in relief. “My favorite position.”
He took her hand and let her pull him down next to her on the bed. With a sigh, he gathered the ragged tatters of his nerves and held her close. But only for a moment. Having Mary Alice naked in his arms threatened to push everything from his mind—except gloving himself in her velvet heat.
