Perfect Fit

by Carly Phillips

  “Is this one of those consequences?” he asked, grabbing her wrist and rubbing his thumb along the inside pulse point.

  She swallowed hard. “It is.” At their sexual banter, her heart tapped out a rapid beat inside her chest.

  “Did you mean what you told Sam about your eyes being wide open?”

  She managed a nod. Given a choice between this and not having anything with Mike at all, she’d take this. And deal later.

  “Good.” He visibly relaxed, but he didn’t stop swirling circles on her wrist with his thumb and she felt the pull inside her, causing her breath to catch, her nipples to harden, and pure need to pulse between her thighs. “Ready to go back to the table?”

  She thought he would have suggested they head upstairs. “Sure,” she said, over her disappointment.

  He eased his fingers down and grasped her hand in his. “Don’t worry, honey, we’ll go upstairs later.”

  “Honey?” She repeated the word.

  “I need an endearment, and baby isn’t going to work.”

  “Oh.” He wanted an endearment. For her.

  Her mouth went dry. He had her wired and on edge, ready to pull him out the back and to his apartment right this second.

  He placed his free hand on the small of her back and steered her toward their table. For the rest of the night, Cara heard nothing else except a low buzz of her friends talking and the hum of anticipation in the air as she waited for the time when she could head upstairs and be alone with Mike.

  Eight

  Mike liked Cara in uniform. He liked her in jeans and a beat-up faded tee. He liked the cut-off pink sweatshirt that bared one shoulder, her long ponytail hanging down her back, swinging as she walked. Her hips were swinging as well, and as his gaze traveled lower, he decided he really liked her ass.

  So why hadn’t he taken her up on the invitation in her eyes to ditch the bar and go upstairs? Because as much as he enjoyed those things, he loved watching her laugh with her friends that much more.

  Apparently he was in deep.

  Sam didn’t mention anything about the scene earlier. He also hadn’t spoken to Mike directly ever since. Whatever Mike had with Cara was none of his brother’s business, and Mike didn’t plan on bringing it up either.

  Eventually, Alexa yawned and said she was ready to turn in. Liza did the same, which led to Dare pronouncing their night over. He took his wife home, Alexa walked out with them, Sam left with barely a good-bye, and Mike turned to Cara.

  “Ready?” He rose and extended a hand.

  She grinned and stood up. He was happy to see that her buzz had worn off; she was steady on her feet and, from the look in her eyes, as eager to get upstairs as he was.

  For the first time, they didn’t sneak out separately. Instead he took her hand and led her to the back entrance. Mike didn’t give a damn who saw them, and apparently she’d come to terms with her issues about being seen together in public. By morning, word would spread through Serendipity, and though he now had a responsibility to a woman he’d never willingly sought out before, this was Cara. And he didn’t mind.

  After his messed-up relationship in this small town, Mike had learned a lesson. He wasn’t cut out for anything serious because, as he realized not long after his departure from home, he had his biological father’s blood running through his veins. He’d proven it with Tiffany and let no woman afterward get close enough to make demands or have expectations. None made him want to give those things.

  Cara did.

  It didn’t miss his notice that he’d willingly gone into a relationship with Cara. He was okay with that because if he wanted to move on before his time in Serendipity was over, she was prepared. He’d handle her with care. He wouldn’t deliberately hurt her, and he wasn’t worried anyway because he didn’t see that happening any time soon.

  The cold wind hit them as soon as they left the warmth of Joe’s and stepped outside. Before he could give her his jacket or ask where hers was, she ran with him up the back stairs. He had his key in hand and let them inside quickly, shutting and locking the door behind him.

  He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a hook in the hall. A second later, Cara launched herself into his arms and plastered her shivering body against his.

  She felt good and right and he wrapped his arms around her tight.

  “Cold,” she said, teeth chattering.

  “I’ll warm you. Where was your coat?”

  “I left it in Alexa’s car. It’s such a hassle to have it with me at Joe’s.”

  He grasped her beneath her arms. “Jump,” he said.

  She did as he asked and wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to fully embrace her. Then he sealed his mouth to hers.

  He kissed her hard, while backing her up to the nearest wall so he could anchor her in place and free up his hands. He never broke the kiss as he lifted her shirt and pulled it over her head, then freed her luscious breasts from the confines of her bra. Only then did he move, licking a warm path down her cheek, her neck, and her chest, ending when he pulled her taut nipple into his mouth. He alternated long strokes of his tongue with light nips of his teeth that had Cara’s hips bucking against him in search of relief.

  He needed some of that himself.

  When she tugged on his hair, indicating she wanted him to move things along, he had no problem complying. He stepped back long enough to help her open the button on her jeans and shimmy out of them while he pulled off his pants and tossed them aside.

  He braced his hands on either side of her head and looked her over, top to bottom. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  She blushed but didn’t move to cover herself. Instead she reached out and touched his cheek. “Thank you.”

  He replied by kissing her and within seconds, they were skin to skin, her soft body melting against his. Her breasts pressed against his chest, she smelled like wildflowers and Mike couldn’t wait another second.

  “I want you in my bed,” he said with a possessive growl.

  “So what are you waiting for?” She grinned, and he scooped her up. In his tiny apartment he didn’t have far to go in order to get her where he wanted her: on his bed, ready and waiting.

  Cara thought her heart was going to explode inside her chest. Mike might be silent some of the time, but when he spoke, every word counted, and tonight everything that came out of his mouth affected her in a profound way.

  She scooted backward, positioning herself in the middle of the bed, watching his handsome face while he followed her movements with his heated gaze.

  His features were hard and determined as he once again braced his hands on either side of her head. “I need you.” The words sounded pulled from a place he rarely visited, rarely shared.

  “I’m yours.”

  And she was, no matter how much she knew it would hurt her in the end. She didn’t look, didn’t meet his gaze, not wanting to see panic or questions there. Instead she reached between them, grasping his hard, hot length in her hand, and guided him to where she needed him most.

  Then she let herself look. His eyes were dilated with need, his face taut, but when he plunged deep, his expression softened and every wall she’d erected around her heart crumbled.

  She felt him inside her as he moved—every long glide out and every deliberate thrust back in felt like it had a direct line to her heart. She didn’t want to think so much. She wanted to feel what he did to her body, not how he affected her emotions.

  Wrapping her legs around his, she yanked hard, knocking him off balance. “Switch,” she said, taking control. Maybe then she could chase away the pesky feelings getting in her way.

  Surprisingly, Mike agreed, and soon she was on top and in charge like she’d wanted. She stayed that way until he laced his hands through hers, the simple gesture causing a lump in her throat.

  As always, no matter the position, she didn’t remain in control. He met her rhythm with ease, taking her up and close to peaking faster than she’d thought po
ssible. Her body clasped him tight, making him almost a part of her. So instead of feeling less, Cara felt far more, more of his incredible power and the way he mastered not just her body but her mind—and her heart.

  Thankfully that was her last coherent thought before he released one hand and slipped his fingertips to her there, pressing the exact spot and sending her flying into the hardest, longest climax of her life. Mike thrust up one last time, and she heard her name on his lips as he came right along with her.

  She didn’t know how long she rode out the glorious wave, but she milked every last ounce of pleasure he gave before she collapsed on top of him, breathing hard, feeling him do the same beneath her.

  His fingers tangled in her hair as he rolled her to the side and pulled her against him.

  They lay in silence, and Cara tried to gather her emotions together and rebuild the walls she’d constructed. To do that she had to think rationally. She felt something for Mike, she accepted that. What else did she expect for not having casual sex all that often? When she did sleep with a man, it began to mean something. Okay, that was wrong too. It was Mike. He affected her like no man ever had, so of course she felt something for him.

  But she didn’t know him well enough or long enough to be in love with him, and she wouldn’t let herself reach that point. How she’d stop it, she didn’t know. But she’d damn well try.

  In the meantime, she knew if she tried to untangle herself and leave, she’d wake him up, so she resigned herself to falling asleep now and worrying about everything else tomorrow.

  Cara and Mike shared breakfast at his place. They each ate a bowl of cold cereal, toast, and coffee before he drove her home. She waited for the awkwardness between them that never came. They had chemistry and were comfortable together, two things that she knew from past experience was extremely rare.

  She finished her coffee, and he dropped her off. He didn’t treat her like a one-night stand, walking her to the door and kissing her good-bye before heading into the station early. Cara called Havensbridge and left a message for Daniella, a promise that she’d be there around nine A.M.

  Then she showered, quickly dried her hair and pulled it into a messy ponytail, and grabbed her keys, ready to go, when her cell rang.

  A glance at her phone told her Mike was calling. She couldn’t deny the pleasure she received from seeing his name on the screen. “Hey,” she said as she answered.

  “Hey yourself. Listen, I know it’s your day off, but I called Judge Baine, the guy who presided over the drug and money case. His wife said I could talk to him this morning. I was wondering if you wanted to come along.”

  “You bet!” she said, excited to get details on the case and also happy he’d thought to include her.

  “I should warn you, though, it might be another dead end,” Mike said, sounding none too pleased.

  “Why?”

  “His wife explained that he has Alzheimer’s, and though he sometimes has lucid days, they’re rare, and so far today isn’t one of them. But she still said we’re welcome to try. Said she never knows what’s going to trip his mind back into the present.”

  “Oh, Mike. I’m sorry.” Cara felt his disappointment as if it were her own.

  “Me too, but what can you do? If this doesn’t pan out, we’ll just have to keep finding other leads.”

  There it was, that we again. True, she was partnered with him on this—in fact, it was her case first—but the fact remained that he was the chief and the people potentially involved were close to him. He could have excluded her and there’d be nothing she could do about it. Instead, as personal as this was for him, he made her feel like she was as much a part of things as he was. And she liked it. Liked it a lot.

  “Cara? I said I’d be by in thirty minutes to pick you up. Okay?”

  She blinked, realizing she’d been lost in her own thoughts. “Sure. But I promised Daniella I’d go to Havensbridge this morning.”

  “I don’t have any afternoon meetings. I can come with you.” He paused. “If you think that’s okay.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Cara said, touched he’d offer.

  “Great. See you soon.” He disconnected the call.

  Thirty minutes later, Mike arrived and five minutes after that, they pulled up to a beautiful Colonial-style home that had been meticulously cared for and maintained. Cara wasn’t overly familiar with this side of town, but she knew the houses here cost a pretty penny.

  She let out a long whistle. “Nice.”

  “Very.” Mike raised his glasses and studied the house before dropping them back over his eyes. “Let’s go.”

  The judge’s wife met them at the door. She was an older woman with gray hair and a friendly expression on her face. “Mike Marsden, welcome,” she said, gesturing for them to step inside.

  “Thank you for letting us come,” Mike said. “This is Officer Cara Hartley.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Cara said, shaking the woman’s hand.

  “Pleasure,” the other woman said. “Marshall’s in the den. It’s where he spends most of his days.” She started walking toward the room.

  Mike glanced at Cara and shrugged, and they followed her into a room filled with sunshine. Obviously Mrs. Baine loved and cared for her husband. She’d opened the shades and put real flowers around to make for a cheery atmosphere and space.

  “Marshall, you have company.”

  The judge turned his gaze from the television, which had Wheel of Fortune on the screen. At seventy-three, the judge was still a young-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair, who had retired because of his condition and not because he’d been ready to leave the bench.

  He glanced at Cara and Mike with clear eyes. “Well, who do we have here?”

  “I told you the new police chief, Michael Marsden, was coming to visit, remember? And he’s brought Officer Cara Hartley with him. They want to ask you a few questions,” his wife explained, as she walked over and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from the blanket on her husband’s lap.

  He squeezed her hand, and she stepped away. “I’ll go get some refreshments,” she said.

  “No, please don’t go to any trouble,” Cara said.

  “We won’t bother you long,” Mike said to Judge Baine.

  She nodded. “If you change your mind, let me know.” With a wave, she walked away.

  Mike and Cara settled into chairs across from the judge. “So how can I help you two young people today?” he asked.

  “We need you to go back about thirty years,” Mike said. “To a case about a guy stopped for a traffic violation who had drugs and thousands of dollars of marked bills in his trunk.”

  Mike had been smart in laying out the facts for the judge. Even if he’d seen hundreds of drug cases over the years, he surely hadn’t had many that involved marked bills.

  Judge Baine raised his gaze to the ceiling, and Cara figured he was thinking back. She glanced at Mike, who studied the older man but waited patiently.

  “That’d be 1983, right?”

  “That’s right,” Cara said softly.

  “Oh, my years on the bench, the stories I could tell you.” And for the next twenty minutes, with the television and Pat Sajak blaring in the background, that was what he did, allowing Cara to understand why people said those with Alzheimer’s had no problem with long-term memory.

  It was short-term memory that caused more of an issue, and that became clear when the judge wound down his storytelling and focused on Cara. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  She blinked in surprise. “I—uh—”

  “She’s with me, Your Honor,” Mike said, speaking deferentially to the older man.

  “Oh, Rex. Didn’t I tell you not to come see me here at home?”

  Cara’s eyes widened in surprise, and Mike flinched as if Judge Blaine had slapped him—instead of calling him by his biological father’s name.

  Mike leaned forward in his seat. “It’s Mike. Mike Marsden, Simon’s son.”

  �
�Remember to keep this from your partner. He’s as straight as they come, and we can’t risk him finding out,” the judge said in a warning tone.

  Cara’s gaze shot to Mike, but he was focused on the older man.

  “What can’t we risk Simon knowing about?” Mike asked him.

  Suddenly, the older man looked around frantically. “Did you hear that? Someone else is here. They’re talking and listening to us. I told you we can’t talk here,” he said, sounding panicked.

  “It’s just the television.” She spoke in what she hoped was a soothing voice, but the judge didn’t calm down.

  “Mary, Mary?” the judge called out loudly, tossing the blanket off his lap. “Who else is here?”

  Mike and Cara rose from their seats at the same time his wife came running in.

  “I was worried he’d get like this. Was he able to help you with information before he got upset?” she asked, wrapping an arm around her husband.

  “He did his best,” Cara assured the woman.

  As if by silent agreement, she and Mike edged toward the door, knowing their visit had come to an end.

  “Would you mind letting yourselves out? I don’t want to leave him alone,” his wife asked.

  “Of course. We’ll be fine,” Cara said.

  She followed Mike through to the entryway, out the front door, and back to his truck. He didn’t say a word as he started the engine, nor did she ask him to. She knew he needed to process what he’d heard and come to his own conclusions.

  “Can you take me home to get my car? I need to head over to Havensbridge.” She knew Mike wouldn’t be coming with her now.

  He turned to face her. “You don’t want to talk about what we just heard?”

  “Not until you’re ready.” Clearly the judge had known Rex Bransom thirty years ago, and they obviously shared a secret they hadn’t wanted Simon to know. Whatever Mike’s next step, he deserved space to figure it out on his own time.

  He blinked in surprise but remained silent.

  “Take me to my car?” she asked again.

  Mike shook his head and laughed at the irony. Unlike most women, Cara seemed to know he needed time to wrap his head around this mess, and instead of talking nonstop or pressing him for his feelings, she was letting him be.