by J. S. Scott
She came toward him slowly, stopping in front of him. “Is that your police officer voice? It’s pretty bossy.”
“Sweetheart, you have no idea what an asshole I can be. Be happy you’re not a criminal,” he told her dangerously.
“It kind of makes me want to run out and commit a crime. That whole dictator thing is pretty hot,” she mentioned matter-of-factly. “Not that I’d always obey your commands, but the whole caveman persona has its merits, sexually.” She paused before adding, “I think I might like it.”
Holy hell! She’s going to make me crazy! I’d like to go caveman all over her ass right now.
Not that his erection had ever subsided, but his cock was twitching merrily right at the moment. He picked her up and set her gently in the passenger seat. After taking the leash from her hand, he picked up Coco and placed the dog in the backseat. As he fastened Sarah’s seat belt, he replied, “You better get used to it, because I think you’re going to throw me back into the Stone Age.” He closed the door before she could reply. If she said one more word about the merits of being sexually dominated, his dick was going to explode.
Funny thing was, it was all an observation for her, and she was just starting to realize her own sexuality. Sarah wasn’t coming on to him, but it didn’t matter. The sexy, slightly bewildered, analytical voice just seemed to do it for him.
He jogged around the truck and jumped into the driver’s seat. “No more walking alone at night. Your pint-sized mutt isn’t exactly good protection.”
“Yes, Detective Sinclair,” she answered immediately, her lips forming into a smile.
Dante glared at her, wondering if she was being sarcastic. “What’s amusing? Your safety is not a joke. It’s dangerous for a woman to walk alone at night.”
“Nothing is actually amusing. I guess I’ve just never had someone worry about whether or not I was safe,” she answered carefully. “It’s . . . strange.”
“Then it’s about time somebody did,” he told her in a low, graveled voice, astounded that she’d never had anyone who looked out for her. But she’d told him about her mother, a woman who seemed to only be interested in her daughter’s scholastic achievements, and she had no siblings. It was highly possible that everyone assumed that because she was so gifted, so special, that she’d never needed any backup or support. How asinine was that? Because of her situation, what she’d really needed was a champion, a protector. Sarah dealt with things in black and white, logic and reason. Unfortunately, the crazies in the world didn’t analyze things in their brains the same way Sarah did.
Mine!
He’d gladly be the man who watched out for her. She might be more intelligent than he was, scholastically, but he was street smart, which was exactly what she needed.
He started the engine, backed out of the parking lot, and headed toward her house. They didn’t talk much, but every time he turned to look at her, she was still smiling.
CHAPTER 7
I just had an incredible orgasm on a dark beach like an overheated teenager!
She should probably be mortified, but she wasn’t. For the first time, she felt . . . normal. Dante had just opened a portion of her soul that she hadn’t known actually existed. She hadn’t lied when she’d admitted to him that he made her feel alive. When he’d said that to her, it was like her body was echoing the same emotions¸ as if some part of her that had been dormant her entire life had finally awoken.
Sarah’s entire world had revolved around study. The only enjoyable thing about her years with her mother had been her music, those moments when she could express her loneliness by playing the piano. Unfortunately, no one had ever wanted to actually protect her . . . until Dante. He treated her like she was special, but for the first time, it had nothing to do with her intelligence level.
He wants me.
Somehow, it was significant that he looked at her and liked the woman he saw in front of him, accepted her so easily. He didn’t keep his distance from her because he was intimidated. In fact, he didn’t seem the least bit daunted. He certainly had no problem trying to boss her around when he was trying to protect her, and her female hormones were standing up and taking notice. Maybe Dante did have a serious testosterone overload, but he was pushing her boundaries, making her aware of herself as a female. Yet she knew he had his own vulnerabilities, and that made for one hot male¸ a guy who was pretty much irresistible to her.
Brilliant deduction, Einstein. He’s so irresistible that I lose all lucid thought every time he touches me.
The problem was, she really didn’t want to resist him. She wanted him to touch her, teach her everything she’d missed. Her education was definitely lacking in the carnal pleasure department. If a simple kiss, a simple touch had rocked her world that much, she could only imagine what it would be like to get naked with him.
I can’t do that. He’d probably be turned off completely if I actually did get naked.
“What happened?” Dante asked curiously from the driver’s seat of the truck.
Sarah pulled herself out of her own thoughts. “Nothing. Why?”
“You’re not smiling anymore. I don’t like it,” Dante replied gruffly.
Had she been smiling? Maybe she had. Basically, she had been focused on him and the afterglow of a stunning, eye-opening orgasm. She also liked the fact that he wanted to protect her. If that hadn’t made her smile, nothing would. “Nothing happened.”
Except I was thinking about getting naked with you, and how sad it is that I can’t. Maybe in the dark . . . ?
“You didn’t tell me your favorite food, or your favorite color,” Dante said hoarsely. “Talk to me.”
Dante’s request to share something about herself with him hit her straight in the heart. No man had ever been curious about her as a person. Even the man who had taken her virginity had been using her, probably to help him get through a class that had been giving him problems. Either that or she’d been a lousy lay. She never really figured out why he’d dumped her after their first sexual encounter, but she hadn’t really cared. The only thing they’d had in common was med school, and she’d been way ahead of him in class even though he’d been older. And she’d decided, after that uncomfortable experience, that she wasn’t really missing anything. Now she was pretty certain she was wrong. She’d just been missing the right man to teach her.
“I don’t know how to ride a bike, or dance. I never had a doll when I was a girl; I had a piano. I never had friends when I was young because it took time away from studying, and it wasn’t essential in developing my potential. I’ve always felt odd because I was young in an adult world, but I don’t ever remember actually being a child. And the only game I was ever allowed to play was chess because it was an intellectual game, but I was only allowed to play it with someone who could beat me because my mother wanted me to be challenged.” Dante’s desire to learn about her had opened up a flood of information that she’d never shared with anyone. “I never had real friends until I came to live in Amesport, and I’ve been lonely my whole life because I was different. I’ve never felt normal.” Sarah took a shaky breath before adding, “My favorite color is red, although I never wear it because my mother felt it wasn’t an appropriate color for an intellectual woman. Too flashy. You already know I love lobster rolls, and I love classical music, but I also like to listen to country. Honestly, I can find some musical merit in just about any type of music.” She hesitated before adding, “I’m pretty certain that you’re right: there’s a lot more to sex than the mating of the human species.”
Dante pulled his truck into her driveway and turned off the engine before turning to her, his expression astonished. “Who doesn’t know how to ride a bike?”
Sarah shrugged uncomfortably. “Me.”
“Christ! Don’t you ever do anything just for the hell of it?”
“Not usually. But I’ve done a lot more things here than I did in Chicago. I walk just because I can. It makes no sense and it wastes time, but I d
o it because I like it, and I love all the little shops on Main Street. I get together with some of the friends I’ve made here, and I volunteer at the youth center. I love the classics, but lately I’ve been devouring every romance novel I can find.” Sarah unbuckled her seat belt and hopped out of the truck. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe now he thought she was a freak. Hastily, she dug for her house keys and pulled them from her purse, then grabbed Coco as she hopped into the seat that Sarah had just vacated. Once the dog was on the ground, she let Coco off the leash, allowing her to explore her own territory.
She hurried to the door, not realizing Dante was behind her until he took the keys from her hand and trapped her between his massive body and the wall beside the door. Looking up at his face, Sarah could see his volatile expression.
“What kind of mother never gets her kid a doll, teaches her to ride a bike, or lets her play any games as a kid? Shit! I thought I was screwed up because I had an abusive, alcoholic father, but even we had games. And because we were filthy rich, we had the best of everything, including bikes. If we didn’t, it would have hurt the old man’s image as one of the elite.” His nostrils flared and his breathing grew ragged. “I think you’d be the most fuckable woman on the planet wearing anything or nothing, but red is sexy. Do you have a red dress?”
Sarah nodded hesitantly. She had one, but she’d never worn it, an impulse buy when she’d been shopping with Randi and Emily.
“Wear it when we go out for dinner,” Dante instructed. “I’ll teach you to ride a bike. I’ve seen some incredible bike trails here. Hell, I’ll even let you kick my ass at chess. I play, but I have no doubt you’re better.”
Sarah looked up him warily. “Why?”
“Because it’s about time you experienced life. I know what it’s like to be wrapped up in your job, making it your entire world, so I can’t say I’m not guilty of doing the same thing. But there have to be certain moments where you make time for other things. Pleasurable things. The best memories I have of Patrick were going out fishing for the day, or getting on our motorcycles just to get out of the city. I haven’t balanced my life very well, but I plan on starting. Patrick used to tell me that life was too short not to take the time for guilty pleasures. I think he was right. And now I’m not just living my life for me; I’m living it for him. I’m going to do all of the things I’ve always talked about doing but never had the chance. I think he’d like that.”
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she watched Dante’s expression turn from angry to regretful. He wasn’t over his partner’s death, but he was moving in the right direction. “I think he would, too,” she told him solemnly, moving her hand up to cup his cheek.
“Are you ready to take a few chances?” A slow grin formed on Dante’s face, growing steadily larger. “I’m a very willing teacher.”
He was right. Her upbringing and history had kept her from doing a lot of things she’d wanted to do. Although she’d grown emotionally once she’d moved away from her mother, she was still a long way from really breaking out of the shell of isolation she’d surrounded herself with during her childhood and adolescence.
She wanted to spend more time with Dante, explore these new emotions and her sexuality. Her ethics would have eaten her alive if he was still her patient, but now that he’d solved that problem, she was free to explore this—whatever it was—thing with Dante. “Since you’re not my patient anymore, I think I’d like that. Although Dr. Samuels isn’t nearly as good a doctor as I am,” Sarah teased. Honestly, Dr. Samuels was a fine doctor who’d been in practice for at least twenty years, but she couldn’t resist giving Dante a hard time for dropping her services.
“I’d rather settle for a mediocre doctor than have you keep protesting and refusing to spend time with me,” Dante rumbled impatiently.
Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but Dante swiftly captured her lips in a demanding assault that made her immediately forget whatever it was that she wanted to say. His embrace was brief, but rough and dominant. By the time he let her breathe again, her body was already clamoring for him to give her more.
“Go inside before I take you right here against the wall,” Dante said rigidly as he unlocked the door and opened it before handing her back her keys.
“You’re not well enough for that,” Sarah argued, still gulping for air as she caught the grim expression on his face.
“You’d be surprised,” Dante replied ominously.
Sarah stepped through the door, still dazed from Dante’s kiss. But in less than a heartbeat, her mood went from hazy to horrified.
“Oh my God!” The first glance at her tiny, adorable cottage left her mouth hanging open in fear and revulsion, unable to say anything else. It literally looked like a bomb had exploded. Her cute little lamps and anything else made of glass was shattered, the shards of glass scattered on the floor. All of her furniture was shredded, every picture on the wall destroyed. In the place of the pictures that were now on the floor, only one thing remained . . . a message.
Her already racing heart skipped a beat as she read the message painted in red on the bare wall:
Die Bitch!!
“Fuck! What the hell?” Dante growled as he came in behind her. “Don’t touch anything.” He grasped her by the waist and physically hauled her out of the house. He deposited her on the porch. “Stay here and dial nine-one-one.” His voice was graveled and angry.
Sarah watched as he darted to his truck and came back with a gun in his hand, and a look as coldly lethal as a killer on his face. He’d changed in an instant, and Sarah had to remind herself that Dante was actually the good guy. Panic seized her as she watched him enter the house while she fumbled for her phone. She watched as she explained what had happened to the dispatcher and was assured that help was on the way. She hung up the phone, gaping as Dante prowled through the house, holding the gun like it was an extension of himself, careful not to touch anything as he searched.
“Dante,” she whispered softly as he moved out of sight and into the hallway where the two bedrooms and bathroom were located. Sirens sounded in the distance, but Sarah’s entire focus was on Dante.
What if someone is still there? What if he gets hurt? He’s not even healed yet.
She reminded herself that he was an experienced detective, a police officer, but it didn’t matter. Cops died. He’d just lost a partner.
She held her breath as her whole body trembled with fear, waiting for any sound that would indicate that Dante was in trouble.
The sirens grew louder, and she released a sigh of relief as Dante moved carefully through the rubble, shoving his weapon into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. “The bastard is already gone,” he rasped, gathering her shivering body into a comforting hug. “I’m sorry. Who the hell would do something like this? And why?”
Maybe he found me!
She tried to quiet the voice in her head, clinging to Dante as a lifeline, trying to make sense of what had happened. It was more likely that it had been destructive kids, maybe tourists out to make trouble, possibly while they were intoxicated on drugs or alcohol.
Die Bitch!!
Someone who knew her, or just a lucky guess that there was a female in the home? The phrase was eerily familiar.
“Were the other rooms okay?” she mumbled against his shoulder.
“No,” Dante said simply.
“So the whole house is the same way?” It broke her heart to think of everything she owned in tatters.
“Yes. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He tightened his grip around her waist, moving a soothing palm up and down her back. “I wish I could have caught whoever did this to you. Jesus. What if you had been home?”
Sarah was glad he hadn’t found anyone. The thought of Dante having to go through any type of confrontation, especially when he was still recovering, made her nauseous.
A police SUV squealed into the driveway, followed by a few patrol cars. Sarah recognized the chief of police, Joe
Landon, as he came running up to the door. Joe was generally a jovial man who could usually be seen around town talking and showing pictures of his newest grandchild, or his wife, Ruby. Sarah estimated him to be in his early sixties. His dark hair was graying, but he had a stocky build and was in good shape for a man his age.
Dante quickly briefed the older man on what had happened, and that he had searched for the perpetrator but hadn’t touched anything.
“The evidence team is right behind me,” Joe remarked in a no-nonsense tone. “I don’t recognize you.” He glanced at the scar on Dante’s face that was clearly visible in the bright porch light outside the door. “Are you that hero homicide detective that we’ve all been hearing about?”
Dante nodded sharply. “Dante Sinclair,” he affirmed as he held his hand out to the police chief.
“Chief Landon, but everyone calls me Joe.” He took Dante’s hand and shook it hard before letting it go.
The evidence team traipsed up the driveway, and they all entered the house for an investigation after Joe briefed them, letting them know that they had almost no information except that the house had been ransacked.
“You answer your own calls here?” Dante asked, perplexed.
“Not usually. But my damn felony detective decided to move off to Boston. His wife got a job there. I’m filling in. There’s nobody on the Amesport force with enough experience to do the job.” He eyed Dante curiously. “I don’t suppose you’re looking for a job.”
Alarmed, Sarah responded, “He needs to heal before he even thinks about doing anything physical.”
“I’m a homicide detective. It’s what I do,” Dante replied emphatically.
“There’s more variety here,” the chief answered persuasively. “If you change your mind, come see me. You’re probably overqualified, but I’m thinking of retiring in a year or two. Amesport will need a new chief of police.”
