by Kaylea Cross
Tate kissed her softly, then raised his head to gaze into her eyes. “Mason’s out with Ric somewhere. So does that mean we’re finally alone?”
She grinned. He’d been so great with her family, and incredibly tolerant when everyone had been here together at once—the most frustrating part being that they hadn’t been able to spend the night together because of her old-fashioned parents.
They’d been forced to sneak sexy rendezvous here and there, which was exciting in a sense, but she was so ready to spend the whole night in bed together without any interruptions. “Yep. They should be boarding their flight home any minute.”
“Good.” He scooped her up, lifting her from the ground. Nina squealed in delight and looped one arm around his neck as he carried her over the threshold.
When they reached the kitchen, he stopped. “What’s all this?”
She slid out of his arms. “I didn’t quite get it finished before Bev and Pat arrived. But come outside anyway.” She set the basket on the table and grabbed his hand to tow him out onto the deck.
“Seriously, what is all this?” he said with a laugh as she led him down the steps to the backyard.
She’d laid out a large blanket beside the fire pit, which already had a fire going in it, and pillows and blankets. It was the end of September now, and the nights got cold. This high up in the mountains, fall was already here, and the past few mornings they’d woken to frost covering the ground and leaves.
“This is to show you how much I love and appreciate you,” she said. “Come on, sit down.” She tugged on his hand.
Grinning, he did. “Now what?”
“Now you stay put and relax while I finish getting everything ready.” She bent forward to drop a kiss on his lips, then hurried back inside.
Five minutes later she carried out the bucket of champagne and a fully loaded plate. “Here you are.” She gave him his plate. “Medium-cooked fillet mignon with hollandaise sauce, roasted asparagus and a fully-loaded, twice-baked potato.”
He took it from her, his face full of surprise. “My favorites.”
“I know.” She made it a point to know all his favorite things. “And after we eat, we’re gonna stretch out on the blanket and watch the stars come out.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Good. Be right back.” She scampered back in to grab them champagne flutes and her own plate, then hurried back down to join him. “There,” she said with a smile as she curled her legs under her and poured them each a glass of champagne. “To us.”
He touched his flute to hers and took a sip, a slight frown on his face. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
She shrugged. “I wanted to.”
They ate their meal together, talking about various things. “So the meeting went well, I take it?” she asked.
“Went great. The guys are totally on board and the financing looks good. We’re gonna put an offer in on the property.”
“That’s awesome. And, speaking of awesome, just wait until you see what I’ve got for dessert.” She bounced her eyebrows suggestively and lowered one sleeve of her dress just enough to show him her new purple lace bra she’d bought on a recent shopping trip with her sister. She’d been saving it for tonight, their first night alone in weeks.
Tate’s gaze heated. “I’d rather have that for dessert instead.”
“Even if I made chocolate-pecan pie?”
He groaned, giving her an accusing look. “That’s my favorite.”
“I know.” She grinned suggestively. “I know all your favorites. But here’s the beauty of this—you can have both. Even at the same time if you want.”
He laughed and set his plate down, then set hers aside and dragged her into his lap to hug her tight. He was already semi-hard beneath her bottom. Arousal stirred in her blood, sending a wave of warmth through her. “This is amazing, sunshine.”
“What is?”
“Just…everything. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”
Nina’s heart hitched. “Never?”
“No. I think I like it.”
That made her smile. “Good.” She kissed him, holding his handsome face in her hands as she poured her heart into it.
Just as the heat in her blood burst into flame, he stopped and pulled back, one hand curved around her nape. “I have something for you.”
“What?”
“Stay here.” Before she could say anything else, he was up and heading for his workshop at the back of the yard.
Nina sat up and waited, watching as he came out with something in his hands a moment later. He crossed the lawn, knelt down beside her and handed her something wrapped in a cloth. “Here.”
Wondering what he was up to, she took it with a grin and pulled the cloth away. She gasped. “Oh, Tate.” A small wooden box with a picture of Saturn carved into the lid. She looked up at him. “Did you make this?”
“Yeah. Open it.”
She did, making a sound of wonder when she saw the sun carved on the underside of the lid, and the message carved into the bottom right above a key he’d placed there. You are my sunshine.
Nina bit her lip, tears flooding her eyes. “Tate,” she whispered, overcome with emotion. That he would make something like this for her, something so sentimental and poignant, touched her deeply. “It’s beautiful.”
She sniffed, wiped at her eyes and picked up the key. “What’s this for?”
“For you, so you can move in with me.”
Nina stared at him, totally caught off guard. “Are you…sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She frowned at him. “This isn’t just because I made you fillet mignon and chocolate-pecan pie, is it? Because that’s definitely only a special occasion thing. Don’t be expecting that every night.”
He chuckled. “No. It’s because I love you so damn much, and I can’t stand being away from you. I want you beside me every night, and when I wake up every morning.”
Oh, hell she was going to ugly cry. For him to say something like that this soon was huge. “Can I put glow-in-the-dark stars all over our bedroom ceiling? I want to build a map on it.”
His lips quirked as he pretended to consider it. “I’ll allow it.”
“Then I’d love to move in with you.”
He kissed her, a low growl rumbling up from his chest as he tipped her over and spread her out on her back on the blanket. “I love you, sunshine.”
“Love you t—” She sighed as his tongue delved into her mouth, one hand gliding down to cup her breast through the thin fabric of her dress.
“Howdy, neighbor,” said a chipper voice.
Nina jerked, her eyes flying wide at the sound of Curt’s voice coming from the other side of the fence. Tate was on top of her and the skirt of her dress was almost up at her waist. Could he see them?
“Hey, Curt. Go away, Curt,” Tate called over his shoulder.
Nina let out a squeak when the top part of Curt’s face appeared over the top of the fence.
His eyes widened. “Oh! Oh, sorry. Have a good night, then. We’ll catch up later.” He cleared his throat and walked away.
Nina’s laugh dissolved into a soft moan as Tate resumed kissing her, that hot, hard body blanketing hers, his hips wedged between her splayed thighs, putting delicious pressure right where she wanted it.
“Gotta love that guy. His timing’s almost as bad as Mason’s,” Tate muttered against her lips, then set about showing her the stars.
Nina gave herself up to it, reveling in every touch, stroke and caress. This was what true love felt like. This was everything that had been missing before.
Tate was the only man for her. He owned her heart, and had her trust and respect as well. This was her happily ever after, and she was going to make the most of it every single day.
—The End—
Dear reader,
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Excerpt from
Lethal Temptation
Rifle Creek Series
By Kaylea Cross
Copyright © 2020 Kaylea Cross
Chapter One
Avery stopped typing notes on her computer to snatch her phone from her desk when it rang. She stilled when she saw the number of her main police contact in Billings, and took a deep breath before answering.
She’d been waiting for this call. Dreading it for days. “Detective Dahl.”
“Avery, it’s Jim. I have some news for you.”
“Hi, Jim. Go ahead.” She braced herself for the possibility of bad news.
“It’s about Mike Radzat.”
“Yes.” Her stomach tensed, her fingers tightening around the phone.
“The National Appeals Board met this morning, and they’ve made the decision to—”
To overturn the Parole Commission’s decision and grant Radzat parole. So that dangerous, manipulative piece of shit could target more innocent victims.
“—deny his appeal.”
Thank you, God. She leaned back in her chair, slowly relaxing. “That’s great news.” She wanted him to stay in prison for as long as possible. “When will his next parole board hearing be?”
“Likely in another two years.”
Hopefully he’d be denied parole then too. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“Of course. Have a good day.”
“You too.” She set her phone down on her desk with a relieved sigh. Until now she hadn’t realized just how anxious she’d been about the situation.
She looked up at a brisk knock on her partially open office door. Her work partner, Tate, stood in the doorway, wearing dress slacks, a charcoal-gray button-down, and a few days of bronze stubble on his jaw. His expression was somber. “We’re being dispatched to a domestic violence call.”
Avery pushed up from her desk and took her service pistol from the drawer, sliding it into the holster on her hip. “Where’s everyone else?” They were detectives, not patrol officers, but the Sheriff’s Department here was small enough that they were often spread thin, so everyone had to pitch in where needed.
“Busy.”
She hurried after him down the hall toward the main doors. These kinds of calls were thankfully rare here in Rifle Creek. It had been a long while since she’d had to respond to something like this, and she hadn’t missed it. She’d always hated them.
One in five officer “line of duty” deaths occurred while responding to domestic violence calls. They were by far the most dangerous kind of call for an officer to respond to, and she was thankful to have Tate with her.
They’d been partners for just over seven months now, and they’d become close right from the start. She trusted and felt safe with him. And not only was he a former Marine Raider with combat experience in addition to his years as a law enforcement officer, he was also in love with Avery’s best friend.
There was no one else she’d rather have watching her back in a situation like this. “Where’s the domestic at?”
“Summit Park. Neighbor called it in.”
New, fairly affluent neighborhood on the ridge above the creek. Just went to show that domestic violence didn’t discriminate—it affected all demographics, and all walks of life.
They exited the building into the bright October morning sunshine and hurried for his gray Ford pickup. “What was that call about when I showed up at your office?” Tate asked. “You looked relieved.”
“Just got word that the inmate I testified against in Billings a few years ago has officially been denied parole.”
“Radzat?” He unlocked the doors for them.
“Yeah.” Serial assaulter, thief and drug dealer. “For once, our justice system got it right.” Even though she’d done everything in her power to keep him behind bars, she’d been worried they might let him out early.
During the parole hearing she’d testified that he shouldn’t be granted parole—ever. Mike Radzat needed to stay behind bars right up until the last day of his sentence. He’d been committing violent crimes since the age of twenty-three, and he’d only been put away for the things he’d been caught for.
Having worked as a patrol officer in Billings for several years prior to becoming a detective, she had arrested him at least ten times, and each crime had been increasingly violent. No surprise to her that he’d wound up being arrested for aggravated murder soon after, having carved a rival to pieces with a machete.
“How long’s he got left in prison?” Tate asked as he steered out of the parking lot.
“Eighteen years.” She shook her head. “He had every chance in the world to straighten out. He came from a good family and had all kinds of support and opportunities. Instead he threw it all away.”
“At least he’s not getting out anytime soon.”
“That’s the silver lining.”
They were quiet for a few minutes, until Tate turned off the two-lane highway. “So, Mason’s moving in tomorrow night, huh?”
Her good mood took a dip. Oh, God, she didn’t even want to think about Mason. The man unsettled and confused her. And he was about to become her basement suite tenant, because rental suites in Rifle Creek were sparse, and she could use the money. “Yeah. Now give me the rundown on this situation we’re responding to.”
Tate outlined what the caller had told the 911 operator about the domestic violence incident. Sounded like the middle-aged couple had been in one hell of a fight if the neighbor had been concerned enough to call the cops. Husband was a lawyer, wife an interior decorator. The caller didn’t know if the wife had been injured, but had feared enough for her safety to make the call.
As they approached the neighborhood, Avery mentally readied herself for the unknown situation they were about to walk into.
“Ready?” Tate asked as he pulled up to the sprawling, two-story brick house.
“Yep.” She got out and walked with him up to the front door, hand on the butt of her service weapon. The neighborhood was quiet, most of the driveways empty with the residents at work, though she noticed the next-door neighbor peeking at her and Tate through a gap in the curtains as they headed up the front walkway.
Tate rang the doorbell. Electronic, with a camera. When no one answered, he rang it again, and rapped on the door.
“Hang on,” came the irritated reply a few moments later.
“Mr. Zinke,” Tate said when the homeowner finally opened the door.
Avery studied him in silence. Forty-three-year-old male, clean cut, with brown eyes and dark blond hair. Same height as her, right around six-feet, with a wiry build. The dress slacks and shirt hinted that he was on his way to work.
Zinke didn’t budge, the door opened only wide enough to frame his face. Avery didn’t see any visible scratches or marks on it. “Yes?” he said, still sounding irritated.
Avery and Tate held up their badges. “Rifle Creek Sheriff’s Department. We got a call about a domestic disturbance at this address,” Avery said in a no-nonsense tone. “We’d like to speak to you and your wife.”
His face tightened as he stared at her. “She’s not here.”
Uh-huh. Then how come both cars were still in the driveway? “Can we come in?”
He eyed them with suspicion. “What for?”
“We want to ask you some questions.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, then he relented and stepped back. “Fine, but make it
quick. I need to get into the office for a meeting.”
Tate went in first. Avery followed, using her heightened awareness to get a read on the situation. The wife was nowhere in sight. And the place was spotless, furnished and decorated to perfection, like a show home. “The report said you and your wife were in a heated argument.”
“Who reported it?” Zinke demanded.
“I don’t know. Was there an argument?” she asked.
“Yeah. So?”
Avery already disliked this arrogant sonofabitch. And it didn’t bode well that his wife wasn’t visible. “Where’s your wife right now?”
“Out. And it was nothing.” His cheeks flushed, but not from embarrassment. Oh, no, this asshole was pissed right off at having his behavior witnessed and reported.
“Where’s your wife?” Tate pressed.
“Out,” he snapped, no longer even trying to maintain a civil façade. “Look, whoever reported it was overreacting. I raised my voice, so what? I was mad. It’s over now.”
“Do you have any weapons in the house or on you?” He wasn’t wearing a holster, and there were no visible bulges in his clothing. Avery patted him down to be sure.
His jaw flexed. “In the gun safe in my office.”
“Which is where?” Tate said.
He jerked his chin toward the hallway. “In there.”
“Show us.” They followed him to the office and verified that the firearms were all accounted for.
“I’m going to check the rest of the house,” Avery told Tate.
“She’s not here,” Zinke snapped.
Avery ignored him and did her job, looking in each room on the lower floor for weapons or any sign that the wife was here. When she found nothing, before heading upstairs she came back to join Tate in the living room.
“Did you assault your wife, Mr. Zinke?” Tate asked.
Zinke’s face turned even redder. “No. Now are we done?”
A muted thud sounded above their heads. All three of them paused. Avery watched Zinke closely. “Is someone else home?” she asked. Whoever it was, they’d been hiding.
