by Dana Marton
Could she be convinced?
As Leila finally cut the cake, Joe tuned out everything else and began planning his own grand proposal.
“I’ll take Justin to the bathroom to change him,” Wendy said and walked off with the kid.
About two minutes passed before Joe figured out that this might be his best chance, while Wendy was all softened up, having just witnessed Sophie’s unconditional jump into marriage.
So he did what he thought was best and strode off to the bathroom after her.
The ladies’ room was empty save for the handicapped stall that also had the diaper-changing station inside.
He stopped outside the stall door. “Wendy?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Will you marry me?”
A long silence followed that made him sweat.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” He racked his brains for something smart to say, but he was so messed up, he couldn’t think of anything.
Another minute passed before the stall door opened, Wendy carrying Justin on her hip. “You are proposing to me in a police station bathroom? Where criminals go to pee?”
Okay. He hadn’t thought of it like that. He shifted on his feet, scrambling for a comeback.
She didn’t wait for him. “What happened to the suave ladies’ man who knows exactly what women want?”
“I don’t care what women want. I only care what you want,” he said miserably. “Love throws me off my game.” He filled his lungs. “I want to be a father to Justin. I’m not just saying that in case it helps. You know I love him.”
Her eyes went soft. And then she leaned forward to press her lips against his briefly.
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a maybe. Yes to living together.” She walked by him as Justin blew raspberries behind her back.
Joe wiggled his eyebrows at the kid. “Seriously, partner? That’s all the help I get?” He strode after them.
“Living together at my place?” he asked Wendy. “It’d be better for me to be in Broslin. For the job. But I can go to Wilmington if you want. I don’t mind the commute.”
“At your place. Justin is pretty attached to Pirate Prince.”
Joe made a mental note to get the cat a gift basket of gourmet cat food. “It’s not like I’ll be taking control. I swear. We can put your name on every room.”
“You can have the kitchen and the laundry room,” she offered magnanimously.
“What, not the bedroom?” But he was grinning from ear to ear.
She stopped until he caught up with her, then whispered into his ear, “I decided I like it on top.” She pulled back and winked at him.
And the grin slid off his face, all his blood rushing to his groin. “We don’t have to stay here long. It’s Justin’s dinnertime anyway. I’m thinking we should probably leave.”
“You don’t want Leila’s cake?”
He shot her a look that told her exactly what he wanted.
* * *
The look Joe had shot her at the police station told Wendy exactly what he wanted. But he didn’t get it until much later. First they had to feed Justin his dinner, then play with him, then his bath, then the bedtime story. Then Justin read the book back to them. Then they all had to sing and bleat like sheep.
The second Wendy stepped out of the guest bedroom, Joe pulled her into his own bedroom down the hall. The king-size bed ruled the room, the place sparse, definitely not a den of seduction. Then again, Amber had said he never brought women here.
Except Wendy.
He wasn’t the same guy she’d first met, but then again, she wasn’t the same woman either. They’d been a terrible fit back then, but now….
There were no guarantees in life, but she knew what she wanted: Detective Joe Kessler.
“I love you too,” she told him, and the smoldering look in his eyes made her wonder why she’d waited so long. “I love that you could just look at Justin and love him. No hesitation. That you insisted on being there for me even when you thought the baby wasn’t yours. I love that you make me laugh. I love that you never try to make me into something I’m not. I love it that you’re Broslin’s favorite son. Even if I sometimes think it’s gone to your head.” She smiled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please continue with your list.”
She bit back a laugh, then turned serious. “I love it that you can make my knees go weak with a touch.”
He brushed his lips over hers. “Like that?”
And she felt an immediate jolt. Oh no, she wasn’t going to let him take control as easily as that. “I distinctly remember someone saying that I’m the boss of the bedroom. Take off your clothes.”
“All right, then.” He grinned that sexy grin of his that made him a town legend. He peeled off his clothes, slowly, holding her gaze the whole time, making a good show of it.
He was strong enough not to have to be in charge all the time. She added that to the long list of things that she loved about him.
He stopped when he was down to his black boxer shorts, hooked his thumb into the waistband, and shot her a questioning look.
“All of it.”
He obliged, his enormous erection springing free. “Will there be some leather involved in this at some point, Madam Dominatrix?”
“Maybe.” She liked the flare of heat in his gaze. She was in control, and she liked it.
She stepped closer, walked around him, caressing his shoulders, his back, her hands slipping down to his firm buttocks, his muscles tightening under her fingers.
Then she walked to face him and brushed his nipples deliberately. His erection grew even bigger, although she wouldn’t have thought that was possible.
“Will you be taking your clothes off?” he inquired, his voice holding tension as her fingers danced down his abdomen.
“When I’m ready.” She touched her index finger to his tip where a clear drop of liquid beaded.
He jerked against her hand.
She ran her fingers up and down his length. “You’ll do anything I say?”
“Anything,” he promised in a husky voice, heat pouring off him.
The feel of his silky skin made her nipples tighten. Moisture gathered between her legs.
His tender lovemaking the other night had been perfect, but now she wanted more—the kind of reckless passion women who’d never been hurt by their men were capable of having.
She closed her fingers around him and looked him in the eye. “I don’t want slow and sweet.”
“Then tell me what you want.”
And she did, brazenly, explicitly, his gaze darkening with her every word.
He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and saw to it that her every wish was fulfilled.
When they lay there, slick in each other’s arms after a lovemaking that went past her wildest dreams, she told him again that she loved him.
“Then you’ll marry me?”
“Why?”
“Being with you feels better than scoring a thousand touchdowns.”
“Is that football romance?” He could always make her laugh. That was a gift. And yet. “I think I’m going to need a little more time to get comfortable with the idea of marriage.” But she could see life with a man, for the first time, without being afraid of it.
“Without pushing, I’d like you to consider this. Marriage is not one person gaining power over the other. It’s an equal partnership. It’s you propping me up when I fall down, and me propping you up when you need it. It’s having someone to share the good times with.”
Sharing good times with a man sounded utterly foreign. But with Joe, she could almost see how it might be. “I’m going to work on becoming the person who can trust a relationship like that.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I love you.”
“My own, personal Cop Casanova.”
“That’s Detective Casanova to you,” he said with a grin
, then deepened the kiss.
THE END
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More Books by Dana Marton
AGENTS UNDER FIRE (Bestselling novella trilogy)
DEATHTWATCH (Bestselling romantic suspense)
DEATHSCAPE (New York Times and USA Today bestseller)
DEATHTRAP (Bestselling romantic suspense)
DEATHBLOW
DEATHWISH – coming summer of 2014
DEATHMARCH – coming fall of 2014
DEATHTOLL – coming winter of 2014
