Ethan watched the two important women in his life chatter away, and realized that they clearly had forgotten his presence. He didn’t mind. It was a good opportunity to study Jane. She was wearing a pair of black knit pants that hugged her fabulous long legs, along with a cream cowl-neck sweater striped in red and pink.
She looked like a valentine herself. Her cheeks were flushed, her face animated. And just like that, the penny dropped. He was head over heels in love with her.
The knowledge smacked him in the face like a two-by-four, and his stomach did a weird flip and jolt. Of course he was. Why else had he invented a not so subtle reason to spend the weekend with her? It was hardly police procedure to seduce potential crime victims in order to be on the scene.
Idiot that he was, he’d probably been halfway in love with her five years ago. But for whatever reasons, including the ones he’d given Jane, he’d been content to preserve the status quo. But no more.
He was damn lucky no other man had scooped her up in the meantime.
He stared at her, knowing she was too busy with Sherry to see his shock and bafflement. Everything about her was perfect. Her sweet, sometimes naughty smile. The elegant way she carried herself—all long legs and ripe breasts and narrow waist. And that soft, mixed-breed hair, a dozen shades of gold and yellow and bronze . . .
He swallowed hard, his hands trembling. What in the hell was he going to do about this? Should he come right out and ask about the notes? Tell her he was madly passionately in love with her? Woo her with hot sex and plenty of begging? He owed her something for being a blind fool.
But if Jane hadn’t sent the notes . . . shit. He’d be hung out to dry.
He strolled to where the two women stood discussing the merits of various shades of crepe paper. Ethan hugged his sister and grinned at Jane. “What you don’t know, Jane, is that my sister is dating one of Statlerville’s finest.”
Jane bounced. “Who? Tell me, who?”
In an instant, Ethan realized his mistake. Sherry’s face had gone gray, and she looked even more miserable than when her daughter moved away.
He and Jane sobered simultaneously. Jane patted her arm. “Don’t let your brother bully you. Some things are private. Let’s finish up your shopping list.”
But Sherry shrugged and sighed. “It’s no big secret. Randy Temple and I have been out a couple of times. But I’m too old for him. So it’s kind of pointless to continue. He needs a young woman his own age who can give him a houseful of children.”
At Jane’s distressed look, Ethan explained in a low voice, “Sherry had some complications after Deb was born. She had to have a hysterectomy.”
Jane hugged the petite woman. “I’m sorry that happened to you, but honestly, Sherry, some men wouldn’t care. You’re a beautiful woman, with or without any potential babies. I don’t think you should write him off just yet. I’ve met Randy, and he’s a hottie.”
“Hey!” Ethan protested. He recognized the shot of jealousy, marveled at it, rolled it around in his head. “I’m standing right here.”
Jane put her arm around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. “Don’t be such a baby. Women are allowed to look these days.”
He realized he didn’t like that thought. Not one bit. “And that goes for me as well?”
She gazed at him, for the moment seeming to forget that his sister was watching them. The gleam in her eye made his spine, and other parts, stiffen. “Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll keep you too busy to be distracted by lesser women.”
He barked out a laugh, and even Sherry joined in the chuckle. His sister glanced at her watch. “Oh, heck, I’ve gotta run. Jane, if you’ll ring this stuff up for me, I’ll get out of your hair.”
While Jane did her thing at the cash register and bagged Sherry’s purchases, Ethan studied his sister with troubled eyes. Temple was a good guy, solid in every way. But Sherry was stubborn as a mule. It would take a miracle to change her mind.
When the two women said their goodbyes, Ethan helped carry the packages out to Sherry’s car. When he came back in, he locked the door, turned the sign to CLOSED, and pulled down the shades. Then he turned and faced Jane.
She was watching him, her eyes narrowed. In a split second, the mood in the room had changed. He crossed to where she stood. “I know it’s probably a social faux pas, but would you be terribly offended if we postponed dinner for a half hour?”
The corners of her mouth kicked up in a smile. “You got something in mind, Chief? Police business you need to take care of?”
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of regulation handcuffs. “I have a vulnerable woman I need to take into police custody. For her own protection . . . of course.”
Sixteen
Jane managed not to choke on her tongue. Holy cow. She might have had a few law enforcement fantasies about Ethan over the years, but that was the result of an overactive imagination in a dark, private room.
Heat flooded her belly and she felt her nipples tighten. She crossed her arms over her chest, in case her sweater was too thin to disguise her current state of mind . . . and body. She bit down on her bottom lip. “Um, well . . . I’ll just keep the roast warm until you come back.”
His quick grin was all male. He headed her way with determination written on his face, following her step by step as she backed up instinctively. “Oh, don’t worry, my delectable Jane. I’m not going anywhere . . . except upstairs . . . to your bed.”
Even with the evidence in clear sight, she was still sputtering in intrigued outrage when he pulled her sweater over her head, dispensed with her bra, and dragged her arms behind her back. By the time she thought to struggle, it was too late. Her wrists were tightly secured with cold metal handcuffs.
Fortunately, she and Ethan were near the rear of the shop and not in danger of being seen from the street. Thank God. She could see the headlines now: Assistant police chief apprehends partially nude shop owner. Of course, it might be good for business.
He swung her around to face him, his narrow, laser gaze taking in every detail of bare skin from her waist to the top of her head. She was red-faced and aroused. He was dark-eyed and inscrutable.
Deliberately, he flicked first one nipple, then the other with his fingernail. Her thighs clenched instinctively as moisture bloomed in the secret places between her legs. Her breathing was all over the map.
Ethan dropped to his knees and dragged her pants and panties with him. Her cotton slacks had a bit of Lycra in them, and they cooperated easily. For long, tense seconds, he looked. That was all. Just looked, making her even hotter, if that was possible. And then he blew warm air over her mound, murmuring something she couldn’t quite catch. The tickle of his breath on her damp flesh was subtle torture.
When he probed her aching sex with his tongue, she struggled wildly, feeling the metal of the handcuffs bruise her wrists. “Ethan, oh, God. Please.” She had never been aroused so quickly . . . had never known she could be.
The first orgasm hit fast and hard, bowing her body and leaving her breathless. The second one was hotter still, a bright star-burst of pleasure that radiated from her clitoris in a million tiny waves. She barely even noticed when he stripped her rapidly of her pants, panties, shoes, and socks. But the bite of the cold floor on the bottoms of her feet made her flinch.
She begged then, not sure she could stand any longer. “I can’t,” she panted breathlessly, her face red, her eyes dazed. “No more.”
He stood slowly and faced her, his eyes hooded. “Oh, there’s more,” he promised. “There’s always more. Let’s hope you can hold out.”
Without warning, he ground his mouth down on hers. In his wild kiss she felt the same desperation that made her shake. He might be calling the shots, but he was no less crazed than she was.
He steered her by the arm. “Up the stairs. And no funny stuff.”
She stumbled ahead of him, painfully aware that her ass was on eye level with his face. Halfway up he stoppe
d her, gripped her butt in two hands, and nibbled on her chilled cheeks. Her fingers twisted restlessly as she fought to keep her balance with knees the consistency of cooked spaghetti noodles.
He licked the base of her spine, his tongue rough on her hot skin. “Spread your legs. I need to see if you have any concealed weapons.”
He didn’t wait for her cooperation, but merely knocked her ankles apart and stroked up her inner thighs with his palms.
In another situation, she might have giggled, but she was so hot, so needy, so ready for him to screw her, she could only whimper and obey.
He reached around her with his left arm and put one big hand on her belly. Then she felt something probe between her ass cheeks. She tensed in alarm, but he bypassed that area, and in an instant, she felt the fingers of his right hand invade her swollen vagina. She came instantly, crying out and almost losing her balance.
But he controlled her every move. He moved up onto the step behind her, pressing his body against hers. His breath was hot on her nape. “Have you hidden anything from me, Jane?”
She blinked her eyes, trying to get them to focus. She felt dizzy and weak, and she wanted him inside her. “No,” she croaked, “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
He played with her breasts until she thought she might scream in frustration. “I hope you’re telling the truth, little lady.”
When he tugged hard at her sensitive nipples, she moaned. His touch was too much and not enough. The sound seemed to galvanize him, because he pushed her forward again. “Climb. All the way to the top. Hurry.”
On the landing of her small apartment, he left her standing alone as he went through the place, turning on lights. Bound as she was, she would have preferred the cover of darkness, but apparently the chief had other ideas. When he came back to her, she saw streaks of color staining his cheekbones, the sharp angle of his jaw, the gleam of pure sexual hunger in his eyes.
He stood before her, hands on his hips. “I’ll ask you one more time,” he said gruffly. “Are you hiding anything from me, Jane?”
She blinked in confusion. Was this a game, or did his pointed question mean something else? Her throat dried and nerves skittered. Surely he hadn’t found out about the valentines, had he?
Oh, Lord, what should she say? She slid her gaze past his, wondering absently if her nice dinner was ruined. She felt suspended in time, hanging in limbo, sensing a crossroads ahead. It was difficult to have a serious conversation with a man when one of the parties was buck naked.
Surprisingly, Ethan wasn’t looking at her nude body at the moment. His eyes were locked on her face, his expression sober. Was this how he looked in an interrogation room? All grim and serious?
She could do it. Spit it out right now. Ethan, I’m the woman who has been sending erotic valentines. I’m in love with you, and I got tired of waiting to see if another guy was going to come along. But turns out, no one measures up to you in my book. So tell it to me straight. Are we merely fooling around for the hell of it, or do you love me at all? I’m a big girl. I can handle it.
It seemed like hours dragged by as she debated her options. But when she glanced at the clock, she knew differently.
Ethan was still waiting.
But she chickened out. “No, Officer, I’m not hiding anything.”
Something flashed across his face—a look she could swear was disappointment. Had he expected her to make up a confession? For the game? Or did he really know she was sending the notes and wanted her to admit it?
She told herself there was no way he could be sure it was her. Which still ate away at her confidence. Why not ask Jane’s advice? Why not share the contents of the valentines with her? She couldn’t think of a single reason, except for the fact that he might, even now, be planning to seek out his mystery admirer and see what developed.
And if he did know it was Jane, the only reason that she could imagine for him not to acknowledge it was because he didn’t feel the same and didn’t want to embarrass her. That possibility was one she didn’t want to dwell on, not even briefly.
She realized she was shivering. “Officer,” she said softly, her eyes pleading with him to understand, “don’t you think I’ve done my time?”
His face cleared, making her wonder if she had imagined his troubled reaction. He slid his hands into her hair and pulled her toward him. “I’m open to bribes and sexual favors,” he muttered.
His sweater tickled her breasts. His belt buckle pressed into her belly. She arched closer, wanting him so badly, loving him beyond reason. He’d called her a vulnerable woman. And she was, but not in the way he meant, not because of some teenage troublemaker.
She was vulnerable to Ethan. He had the power to make her dreams come true, or to hurt her deeply.
Soon, she would push for an answer. Soon she would know the truth. But not yet. Not while they were in the midst of this delicious “getting to know you” phase.
Ethan was a generous lover—fun, playful, single-minded in his devotion to making her body sing with pleasure. If this was all he had to give her, she would not end it too soon. Because she might have to live on these memories for a long, long time.
Her decision made, she nipped his chin with her teeth. “You could give me time off for good behavior.”
He lifted his head, his hair rumpled. “But that’s just it, my lovely Jane. I want you to be bad.”
Ethan choked back his disappointment at Jane’s reticence, and concentrated on the exquisite woman in his arms. The handcuffs might not have been such a good idea. He was ready to devour her, and his lust was dark enough, greedy enough to give him pause. Perhaps all men, beneath the skin, were animals. He’d made Jane helpless, had taunted her, teased her. And every second she was under his control, he wanted her more.
But he grew impatient to have her hands on him. So he spun her abruptly and used his key to open the cuffs. When she held her arms in front of her, he massaged her wrists, feeling guilty that he had marked her flesh. He lifted her hands one at a time and kissed her palms. “You’re the sexiest captive I’ve ever had in my cuffs.”
She leaned into him, stroking his chest. “Come to bed with me, Ethan.”
He liked the way she said it. Direct. No games. A woman’s eternal invitation to a man.
He tugged his sweater over his head and tossed it aside. “Lead the way, honey.”
As he followed her, enjoying the view from behind, he shed the rest of his clothes, dropping them where they fell. By the time Jane scooted onto her bed, he was right behind her. The raw urgency that had been momentarily tamped down flared up in a supernova of need.
They tumbled together, limbs entangled, hands seeking, lips clinging. She took his cock in her hands, and he groaned, falling back on the bed, panting, striving not to come like a green boy.
Already she had learned what he liked. Her gentle fingers hit magical spots, coaxed gasps and curses from his gritted teeth.
He wanted to let her have her way with him, but the naughty foreplay had brought him to flash point with no chance of banking the flames.
He lifted her astride him with trembling arms, waiting with fevered impatience for her to slide down onto his rigid dick.
The docking maneuver threatened to blow the top of his head to the moon.
He was shaking like a malaria patient, his hips thrusting upward, even as Jane bore down, her hands at his shoulders, her eyes closed as she rode him slowly.
He held her waist, marveling at the delicacy of her bones. She was so strong, so determined, and so very dear. They came within seconds of each other, bound by a thread of heat that raked up his spine and flashed in his skull. She literally took his breath away.
In the aftermath, he knew he had to tell her the truth. He loved her. If God was smiling down on Ethan Oldham, Jane might love him back.
He floated, sated and wonderfully content. Jane lay on his chest, her body lax, her hair tickling his chin. He never wanted to move.
In that quie
t moment, he had an epiphany. Valentine’s Day was coming up very soon. He would shop for a ring, plan an unforgettable night, and propose to the woman he loved. It was an awesome idea. And on that encouraging thought, he closed his eyes and dozed off to sleep.
Hunger woke Jane up. She rolled to one side and gazed at the clock. No wonder she was starving. It was eight o’clock. She saw Ethan’s watch and the handcuffs on the bedside table, and she couldn’t squelch a grin.
Sex that good had to include love . . . right? The connection between them had transcended the physical. She felt it, knew it in her bones.
She slipped out of bed, pressing one last, soft kiss on Ethan’s shoulder along the way. It took her barely fifteen minutes to get dressed and bring the waiting dinner up to par. By then Ethan had surfaced, made himself respectable, and was now sprawled in a chair at the table.
He raked his hands though his hair, his eyelids drooping. “What can I do?”
She kissed the top of his head. “I’ll handle it. But don’t get too used to this treatment. Next time it’s your turn to feed me.”
He yawned. “Duly noted.”
For Jane, it was a magical evening, one she would always remember. It felt right having Ethan in her home, at her table, in her bed. And as odd as it sounded, they were comfortable, easy with each other.
With a single look, they could generate heat in remembering, anticipating. But the hunger was banked for the moment, allowing a dangerously addictive tenderness to take its place.
After the meal, they cleaned up the mess, watched a movie, flirted lazily.
At midnight, she daringly stroked his hard thigh. “Ready for bed?”
His eyes gleamed in a now familiar expression of intent. “I could be persuaded.”
They took turns showering, Ethan grumbling all the while about the lack of room in her antiquated bathroom. She laughed at him. “Yours isn’t any bigger. And besides, I think the shared-shower thing is more romantic fiction than practical.”
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