Within His Sight

by Denise A. Agnew

  “Dace, when did you say you were returning to Denver?” Kelso asked as he polished off a last bite of cheesecake.

  He leaned back in his dining chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “At Thanksgiving.”

  Irene waggled her eyebrows. “Is the entire family going to be there?”

  “Yep. All of them,” Dace said in a tone that made Mary pause.

  “You have a big family?” Mary asked.

  Dace grinned and rapped his hands against the edge of the table. “I’m the oldest of six brothers.”

  “Wow,” Mary said, in awe.

  “Are all of your brothers as tall as you?” Irene grinned widely. “What are you anyway, six foot six?”

  Everyone laughed.

  Dace smiled. “My brother Douglas is six-foot-six. The rest of us are all around six-two and six-three.”

  Mary looked at the clock. “Oh, man, I can’t believe how late it is. And I’ve got so much to do tomorrow. I’d better get home.”

  Dace rose from his chair. “Me, too.”

  After thanking Kelso and Irene for the delicious dinner, they gathered their coats and headed out the door. They walked around to the driveway where they’d parked their cars, their breaths puffing out in the thirty-degree weather.

  Dace stopped next to her car. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Come over to my place. I have something to show you.”

  She quirked one eyebrow. “Your etchings?”

  His voice went low and husky. “Those, too.”

  Her heartbeat quickened. “Dace…”

  “I know. You don’t want to have anything to do with a cop in SWAT. I get that. Tell you what, just come over. Don’t think of it as a date. Think of it as friendship, okay?” When she hesitated, he continued. “Did they tell you that I was going to be here tonight?”

  “Well, no. But you’re Kelso’s good friend, and I’m close with Irene.”

  “Uh-huh. Have you noticed that they’ve started inviting us to a lot of events where it’s just you and me?”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “They’re matchmaking.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  She made a sound of disbelief. “What would make you think that?”

  At first he didn’t say anything, then he leaned in closer. He lowered his voice. “Because Kelso busted my chops yesterday and said I needed to get a life. He also said he’s seen the way I look at you.”

  For a full half minute, he assessed her thoroughly, his look so intimate Mary thought she’d combust. Not only did his closeness make her crazy, but what he’d said blew her away. Hope flared in her breast, then she squashed it. Are you insane, Mary? You don’t, I repeat, don’t want to know him better, date him, do the two-backed beast with him. None of that. In that direction lies heartache.

  Serious, serious heartache.

  “I decided I do need to get a life,” he said. “I also decided that six months was a damned long time for me to walk around with a secret hard-on for you.”

  She gaped in astonishment. Her face flushed. “You… I… No.”

  “Yes.” With a smoldering intensity that melted her into her boots, Dace leaned one hand on the car, bringing him into closer proximity. “Since I started work with the sheriff’s department I’ve done my best to pretend I’m not attracted to you, and it isn’t working. When I pulled you out of the bar, I was a coward. I couldn’t say what I felt. That I’m so attracted to you, I don’t want you to leave town. I’ve been fighting this for six months.”

  Floored, she couldn’t manage a word from her paralyzed lips. He could have dropped a depth charge on her, and she couldn’t have budged.

  At the same time, she wanted to kick his shin.

  He’d fought six months to avoid being attracted to her? Holy, holy crap. She hadn’t imagined the incredible connection between them. Something hot and deep ran between them, growing until she felt it in her skin, in her breasts as they hardened to peaks. Her breath quickened, and a soft stirring swirled in her lower belly. What he’d said—what he’d admitted—flipped every feminine switch that television psychologist had mentioned. He defined everything in a man she loved and hated. He had integrity, moral fiber, a great work ethic, a sexual aura that stoked her feminine desires without him having to touch her. He was strong, and—face it—freakin’ sexy with a capital F. He was stubborn, opinionated, and he made her crazy.

  He leaned nearer, his head tilting slightly to the side. His gaze turned slumberous. Warm and searching. She knew what he wanted. And, God help her, she knew what she wanted.

  Neurosis and television psychologists be damned.

  Slowly he slipped his arm around her waist.

  Oh, he smelled so good, and as his body pressed against hers, her pulse rushed in her veins, and her breath caught.

  “Screw this.” His voice held a deep, husky tone that added to her arousal. “See me tomorrow night as my friend. But don’t think of me as just a friend this one time.”

  He leaned in and that was it. His mouth sealed deliciously over hers. His fingers plunged into her hair and anchored her for his devouring. She gripped the collar of his half-open jacket and hung on for dear life. His kiss drugged with a combination of tenderness and open hunger. One minute she responded to his gentle tasting, then his tongue dipped and plunged. Mary moaned as his kiss did things to her she’d never felt before. She pressed closer, eager to feel every hard line of his body, to experience with all her senses his unyielding strength. His tongue caressed, tasting with a rhythm so carnal that arousal spiraled like a top in her stomach. She made soft whimpering sounds in the back of her throat and responded with everything she had, returning the caress of his lips and tongue.

  “God.” He drew away, his arms releasing her as he stepped back, his eyes glazed with passion. “That was amazing.”

  Her head seemed to float away, her pulse hammering, her heart banging away in her chest. She ached with desire. “It was.”

  “It’s freezing out here, but I can’t feel it. Tell me you’ll come over tomorrow night, okay? Strictly friends, I promise.”

  “Scout’s honor?”

  His tossed her a grin. “I was never a boy scout.”

  “Huh. That’s surprising. I mean, with the ability to make fires, shoot guns, hunt down meat for the young’uns.”

  He chuckled. “Damn, when you open your mouth some of the funniest stuff comes out of it.”

  “Don’t it, though?” she asked, still flummoxed by that kiss.

  Before she could run too far away, he tugged her into his arms once more.

  “What are you doing?”

  He looked fierce and tender. “Trying to sneak in one more kiss before I become just your friend.”

  And then she lost all ability to think of him as only a friend. She threw her arms around his neck and plunged into the embrace without a thought. It felt right as his lips cajoled and tasted and his tongue mated repeatedly with hers. Nope, a friend didn’t kiss like this. A friend didn’t allow his touch to slide downward until he could cup her ass cheeks in a gentle grip. She wriggled against his hips, and he groaned into her mouth.

  He drew back and gasped. “That’s it. Let me go before I beg you to come home with me tonight.”

  Her eyes widened, and she smiled. “Let you go? You’re the one with your paws clamped on my butt.”

  Dace’s wicked mouth tipped up at the corners, a teasing gleam in his eyes. His fingers compressed her flesh again and the arousal in her stomach tripled. “Yeah, I do, don’t I? So now you know, Mary. I wasn’t kidding about that hard-on.”

  She made a mock gasp of indignation. “Dace Banovic, is that how you got your call sign for SWAT?”

  He looked scandalized. “Hell, no. I got it because I’ve won the physical training test the last two cycles in a row. I can outdo any of the other guys on the team.”

  He managed to step back. She m
ade the mistake of looking down and saw that long, hard column of flesh pressing against his jeans. The teasing look in his eyes disappeared, leaving nothing but the heated, undeniable desire of a man for a woman.

  “Come over to my house tomorrow night instead,” she said. “I’m on safe ground there,”

  “Safe ground?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “Just humor me, okay?”

  He rolled his gaze to the sky. “Okay. Your house first. Then you’re coming to my house the night after that.”

  She laughed. “You’re assuming that we’ll want to see each other after tomorrow night.”

  “I know we will.”

  She kept grinning. “All right. Six o’clock at my place. I don’t have any etchings, by the way.”

  “I’m there.”

  After she climbed in her car and drove off, she realized standing out in thirty degrees hadn’t chilled her. Her body felt like it might combust given the chance. She was in such trouble, with no hope of pretending that she didn’t want him.

  Mary took a deep, shivering breath and gripped the steering wheel tightly. She could run from him, say that she couldn’t be his friend without wanting him physically. She could admit to that, and it didn’t matter because she’d shown him without a doubt she couldn’t ignore the attraction. Maybe, just maybe, she could scratch the itch that had bubbled between them for six months. Perhaps, tomorrow night, she could seduce him into seeing that sex one time would rid them of the need.

  A wild, unexpected quiver wracked her body. Oh, yeah. She could do that. Sex with Dace “Hard Man” Banovic for one night. One pulse-pounding, heart-shaking, bed-rattling experience. Hell, she knew that’s what it would be like with him. She felt it in her bones.

  Mary didn’t need to be safe with him.

  She could love him and leave him and then never worry about wanting Dace again.

  Chapter Three

  Mary was nervous as hell.

  She stood up from her soft, comfortable blue chenille couch, her heartbeat thumping too erratically as nerves threatened. For the fifth time she went to her bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Her hair somehow didn’t look right, but she’d be damned if she’d fiddle with it again. When was the last time she’d spent this much time primping for a man? She felt insane and obsessed.

  She glared at her image. Her brown eyes looked slightly buggy, as if she’d been shocked by something. Slightly tinted gloss plumped her lips, her mineral makeup covered her uneven skin tone. Her unruly shoulder length ash brown hair hadn’t improved after she took the time to wash it again when she came home. Damn, but she was allowing her attraction to Dace dictate too much of what she did. Mary headed back to the living room and started the CD player. She put on some jazz that screamed casual and not too sexy. Coffee was ready in case he wanted it, which he always did at the office. Dinner was easy—she had fajitas bubbling in the slow cooker. She could eat that whether Dace made it tonight or not.

  He’ll make it. Don’t be silly.

  Yep, she had it bad. Despite all efforts to remain nonchalant, to pretend this situation would stay casual and uncomplicated, it sure as hell felt complicated. She went to her jewelry box and replaced the casual sterling silver trinity knot on her right hand with a sparkly cushion cut citrine ring she loved. It never failed to lift her spirits. She wore a lapis blue turtleneck with long sleeves, and body hugging skirt that went all the way down to her calves. She loved it and it loved her—the figure skimming style always caught Dace’s attention. Whenever, wherever he watched her, she always felt his attention like a hot, lingering brush of skin over skin. Quaking inside with rising anticipation, she took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

  She felt like a young woman waiting for her first date.

  How pathetic, Mary. Get a hold of yourself. Maturity, woman. Maturity.

  She fidgeted as she returned to the living room and waited for Dace to show up. He’d called at five forty-five to say he’d just arrived home and had to shower and shave. Work had tied him up longer than expected. Now it was close to six-fifteen rather than the six they’d planned. She knew this sort of thing could happen with cops. Yeah, she knew his situation, his occupation, almost as much as he did.

  Dad had made sure of that.

  Resigned, she settled into a snug chair in the corner near the fireplace and switched on the lamp nearby. She snagged an art magazine she’d tried to read three times in the last week. Why did she have this restless energy, this perpetual desire to move? She’d never been this hyperactive before moving to Gold Rush and working at the sheriff’s office.

  Ten minutes passed, and when the doorbell rang she jerked in surprise. She tossed the magazine on the footstool and almost trotted to the door as excitement popped like champagne in her stomach.

  She checked the peephole and saw Dace standing on the sidewalk, his gaze planted on the peephole as if staring back. She grinned and unlocked the door. When she opened it, he smiled broadly.

  She gestured for him to enter. “That was quick. Come on in.”

  His thorough gaze didn’t miss anything as he stepped into the apartment. Blame it on his cop mentality. “Hey, I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “A hundred lashes for you. Bad afternoon?”

  “Nah. Just hectic.”

  She closed the door and then he did the one thing she didn’t expect. His burning attention coasted over her body with obvious admiration, and he stepped close. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  She managed a strangled reply, his warm praise catching her off guard. “Thank you.”

  Her shock wasn’t complete, though, until he leaned in and kissed her. He didn’t touch her anywhere else, but he might as well have. A simple brush of his mouth over hers sent pinwheels of lusty excitement darting everywhere. Almost as if he’d run his hands all over her body. He pulled back before she could respond.

  She flushed. “Um, would you … could I take your coat?”

  She took his leather jacket and hung it in the hall closet. When she came back, he was standing by her fireplace perusing the few family photos gracing the mantle. Tonight he wore a grey fisherman’s sweater and new jeans that molded his body attractively but not too tightly. Athletic shoes graced his feet. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned to her.

  “You have some great old photos here.”

  She touched the antique pewter frame that protected a sepia photo of a cop. “My great-grandfather. This was taken in Chicago in the twenties. This later photo is my grandfather in the Chicago police department in the fifties.”

  “So it was all in the family?”

  “Except for me. Dad always wanted one of us to become a cop since he didn’t have sons to take on the tradition.”

  He leaned one elbow on the dark wood mantle. “Your sister didn’t want it either?”

  Sadness rolled up and bit her with unexpected force. “Oh, my sister Teresa didn’t want it. But she did it anyway.”

  His brow furrowed in question, but she didn’t want to begin their visit on such a heavy note. She moved toward the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready.”

  He didn’t ask her to finish her sister’s story while they dished up the fajitas, and that suited her fine. She didn’t want to rehash those memories. Sure, they remained in the back of her mind, floating around and demanding notice on particular days.

  They walked into the separate dining area and her pride and joy—an antique round table and chairs she’d inherited from her parents. She’d covered it with a lace ecru tablecloth.

  “I’ve been looking for a table like this,” Dace said as they settled across from each other.

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No.” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “Not something you expected me to say?”

  “Hell, no.”

  They laughed.

  She pushed her hair behind her ears. “I always pictured you with a card table. No, a card table with a yellow tablecloth spread over it. With a box of co
p donuts on it.”

  “I don’t eat donuts.” His clipped answer brought her up short. She caught the sardonic amusement in his eyes. “I never thought you were into stereotypes, Mary.”

  Shame spread over her face in a heat wave. She sighed. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t usually…”

  “Put people into boxes to fit a particular mold?”

  She shook her head with vehemence. “No. I never do. But I just did with you, didn’t I?” Her voice drifted like a whimper, a drowning sound. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Maybe you don’t know because you’re used to it.”

  “Used to what?”

  “Defending yourself against anyone and everything.”

  Stunned by the accuracy of his statement, she couldn’t speak.

  Dace’s eyes sparked with amusement as he took a sip of non-alcoholic sangria. “I suppose that isn’t the most manly thing a guy can say, is it? I mean, about an antique dining set.”

  She scoffed. “You’re the most masculine guy I’ve ever met. Any woman who thinks otherwise would have to be loco. Half the women at the Sheriff’s Department are in love with you.”

  His eyes widened a bit and when she realized what she’d said, she bit her lower lip. At this rate he’ll think the cheese has really slid off my cracker.

  He picked up his messy fajita and bit into it. Waiting for his response as he chewed just about killed her. All the while, those damn entrancing eyes of his, with those thick lashes, sparkled at her in pure enjoyment. The man had the audacity to look sexy even while eating some of the world’s sloppiest foods. He wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin. “I’m flattered even if I don’t believe it.”

  “Come on, Dace. You can’t tell me a woman has never called you handsome before.”

  For a second his eyes clouded. “One other woman did. And I guess I should be grateful it wasn’t just my mother.”

  She chewed away at her fajita before speaking. “Women, who will remain nameless, have told me they all wondered where you got the name ‘hard man’.”