by D L Lane
She’s married, you jerk!
“Hello?” she said, snapping her French tipped fingers, “are you listening to me?”
“Every word,” he assured, hoping he hadn’t been staring at her cleavage, the plump, perfect mounds he—
“Well?” Danny asked, still peeved.
Gage locked his eyes on hers. “I’ll make sure to speak with him. Give him a warning.”
Her lovely glossed-pink lips parted. “That’s it?”
“What would you like me to do?”
“I-well-I’m…” Danny tossed her hand up. “I don’t know, but something!”
He smiled. He couldn’t help it. Fuming mad or not, she was phenomenal. “I will make sure he understands his actions won’t be tolerated, and if I get another complaint, he’ll be spending his sober up time behind bars instead of in front of one. All right?”
“I suppose,” she said, some of her fire dying down.
“Are you on your way to the auxiliary?” he inquired, knowing the answer.
Danica nodded, her gaze shooting up to where the too loud ticking clock on the wall used to be. “What time is it?”
Gage glanced at his blessedly silent watch. “Almost ten after.”
“Great. I’m going to be late.”
The woman spun for the door, giving him a fantastic view of her backside covered in that tight, tan, was it called a pencil skirt? Did it even matter? Whatever it was called, he liked it. But, knowing Danny, tan was probably the wrong word choice as well. It was likely something more along the lines of almond cream or pale fawn.
Okay. The fact he was stuck on the particulars of her clothing was just weird.
Maybe I’ve lost my mind?
It was a valid question.
His gaze dropped lower.
Oh, hello there. Those calf muscles were popping, taking his impure thoughts on another journey.
Whoever invented high heels should get a gold star, or at the very least, a heartfelt ‘thank you’ with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“It was nice seeing you!” Gage bellowed as she hurried out.
“You too!” came her response.
Taking a deep breath, he glanced down, then frowned. He didn’t need to be lusting in his office about a woman who he couldn’t have. And he sure didn’t need to be turned on while at the police station. But that religious, angel-faced blonde with those Kim Kardashian curves just did it for him.
Always had.
“Oh, hey!” Danica popped her head back in. “Don’t be late tomorrow. We have the rehearsal at six.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Okay. See you then.”
Before he could respond, she was gone.
Chapter Four
Before
He saw her the moment he stepped out of his car, standing there by the batting cage in, Lord help him, Daisy Duke’s—the shimmering rays of the sun finding a home in the blonde hair piled on top of her head in casual disarray.
Unbidden, his gaze lowered to her mile-long legs.
Gage almost groaned, wondering why she wanted to torture him, but knowing she didn’t have a clue she was.
“You’re late.” Danny huffed, crossing her thin arms, pushing those bountiful breasts up, creating perfect creamy-white cleavage within the V-neck of her faded blue t-shirt. Something Gage shouldn’t notice, but boy did he.
Danica Lorry had been an early bloomer, her body making her appear older. When she was twelve, she started drawing the attention of the opposite sex, even grown men would watch her. Mr. Lorry, her father, took Gage aside one day and said, “Son. I need you to keep an eye on Danny for me. Make sure she doesn’t run into any trouble. Too many male eyes are on her lately, and it will only get worse, I’m afraid. Do you think you could do that for me?”
His response had been immediate; he didn’t need to think about it. “Yes, sir, Mr. Lorry, sir. I’ll keep her safe. I promise.” He’d already been unofficially watching out for her anyway, but as the years passed, things changed. He started to ‘look,’ and it was troubling. Gage couldn’t break a promise and become the very thing Mr. Lorry wanted to protect his daughter from. So even though she was a freshman now, still too young to be lusting over, he waged daily war with himself because he couldn’t ignore his attraction to her.
But you’re going to try. Gage adjusted the strap of the equipment bag on his shoulder, making sure to keep his focus on Danny’s beautiful face as he strode toward her. “Sorry, but I’m here now. So, let’s do this thing.”
He opened the door to the fenced fortress and allowed her to step inside first, closing them in and putting the bag down behind her.
“Are you sure this is going to help?” she asked.
“Well, look at it this way. The practice couldn’t hurt.”
“I’m just not very athletic.” Danny shifted her weight and bit her lush bottom lip.
The sight had him unpacking the bats, giving him something to do other than thinking about nibbling that lip for her. “You’re a dancer.”
Get a grip, he told himself, tugging out a helmet.
“That’s different.”
“Here,” he said, “you need to put this on.”
A frown creased her brow as she glanced at his proffered hand. “That is totally ugly.”
“It’s not a fashion show.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Nope. This will help protect you.” Gage waved the helmet at her. “The balls come out of that pitching machine at a good speed.”
“All right.” Danny blew out a breath and took the black helmet, then put it on. “This isn’t going to work.” With a tug, she pulled it back off then released her hair.
In reality, it took seconds, but in his mind's eye, everything slowed down into a frame by frame shot. Golden silk falling around her face. The way it fluttered in the breeze, caressing her shoulders, the ends brushing across her chest. That subsequent shake of her head, turning everything into one of those shampoo commercials, highlighting long, lustrous hair before she combed her fingers through the strands.
Okay, moron. You need to snap out of it. “Good?” he asked, once her helmet was where it should be.
“I guess.”
He picked up a bat and handed it over. “How does this feel?”
“I don’t know. It’s a bat, how should it feel?”
“Too light? Too heavy?”
“It’s fine,” she said, rolling her baby-blues.
That was probably the best he was going to get, so he stepped closer. “You need to hold your hands like this.” He took the bat and demonstrated before he gave it back. “Now, you do it.”
She did, but it wasn’t quite right, so he helped her adjust her grip, then gave up and stepped behind her, way too close.
Danny was tall, but not as tall as his six-foot-two frame, so she fit into the bow of his body with the curve of hers just right.
“You want to relax your stance some.” He adjusted her hips, wanting to keep his hands there, but moved, putting them over hers. “Keep your attention on the ball at all times, and swing like this.”
He helped her through the move, then closed his eyes, breathing her in—sweet cinnamon-spice with a splash of vanilla, and a dash of sunshine.
“Good,” he encouraged. “One more time.”
With him guiding her, his mouth came closer to her ear, voice lowering. “Make sure you follow through. That’s right. Nice and smooth.”
“Gawonii?” Her tone was soft.
“Yeah?”
“I think I’ve got it now.”
With parts of his body intimately touching parts of hers that shouldn’t, he snapped back to his senses, let her go, and moved away. “Okay. Let’s hit some baseballs.”
Going over and adjusting the speed on the machine and doing all the things he needed to do, Gage finally glanced back at Danny with her pink cheeks, watching him. “Get in your stance and keep your eyes on the ball.”
“Right,” she said
.
She had done a pretty good job with the position of her hands on the bat.
“Ready?”
“Yeah!”
“Here we go.” Gage turned on the pitching machine, then almost had a heart attack when she stepped into the path of the ball.
“Move back!” he yelled.
She dropped the bat like a hot potato, then she went down, squatting, covering her head—the ball whizzing overtop her.
After turning off the machine, he jogged over and bent beside her. “You okay?”
She peeked up at him. “Yeah. But that thing is a death machine.”
He smiled and gave her a hand which she took.
Helping her up, he said, “Maybe I need to pitch.”
“No. I’m going to do this.” Her pointed chin came up as her hand went to her hip. “And the next time the youth group plays, I’ll hit one out of the park. You’ll see.”
After six more heart-stopping frights, Danica finally connected the bat with the ball, allowing Gage to settle down and not hover, afraid she was going to end up in the E.R.
By pitch ten, her movements were much more fluid.
“Hey, look,” she said, completely taking her attention away from what she was doing. “It’s a robin. Isn’t it prett—”
“Danny!” he yelled, tossing himself in front of a speeding bullet.
She screamed, helmet flying off her head when he grabbed her.
The ball slammed into his side.
His “Ompf…” of pain took his breath.
“Gage?”
He placed a palm over the ache as if that would help.
“Gage? Are you hurt?”
Panic riddled Danny’s voice, her eyes wide as she gripped his biceps, nails biting into his flesh.
“Talk to me,” she said, getting louder.
“Give me a minute,” he managed.
“Did you get hit?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me see.”
“I’m fine, Danny.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She touched the hand he’d positioned over his throbbing right side.
“Be careful.”
“I will, but move your hand.”
When he did, Danny lifted his shirt, then sucked in a breath. “Oh…” Gentle fingertips skimmed along his ribs, under his arm. The feather-light softness of her touch made the ache disappear and a chill of pleasure to take its place until she stopped.
“Why did you do that?” Her question came out in a mix of breathy concern.
“I told you not to take your eye off the ball.”
“I know. I’m sorry. My stupidity hurt you.”
“I’ll be okay.”
Her gaze went up to his face. “You never answered me. Why?”
“I didn’t want you to get hit. Better me than you.”
“Gage,” she whispered, fisting his t-shirt, then placed her forehead on his chest. “Getting hurt should have been my consequence, not yours.”
“Is everything okay here?” came the gruff voice of coach Ames. “I was doing some paperwork in my office and heard someone screaming bloody murder.”
“Gage got hit by a ball,” Danny offered, straightening up and stepping back, her warmth leaving him.
Coach came into the batting cage, went over to the pitching machine that was still tossing out balls, shut it off, and strode over to them. “Where did the ball strike you, son?”
“My side.” Gage lifted his shirt to show the man.
“It’s already leaving a bruise. You think you broke a rib?”
“Maybe.”
“It’s broken?” Danny asked, clearly horrified.
Gage shrugged, and the doing sent another spike of pain through him.
“We better go get that checked,” said the coach.
“I’ll have my dad take a look.” Gage dropped the material of his shirt, the cotton slipping along his skin even irritated him.
“Take a deep breath for me.”
He did.
“Does that hurt?”
“Not too bad,” he lied.
“Well, let’s hope you don’t have a break, but regardless, you’re going to be sore, so make sure you ice it, and get some rest. I’ll call Doctor Harrison and see if he thinks you’ll be able to play in next Friday’s game.”
“All right, coach.”
“You need me to take you home?”
“Naw. I can drive.”
The man gave him the squinty-eye of suspicion. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, coach. I’m good.”
“I’ll make sure he is.” Danny smiled up at him then over at coach. “And that he follows his dad’s orders.”
“All right. But no more weekend batting practice for you two. Got me?”
“Got you,” Gage said as Danica nodded.
Chapter Five
“Chief?” Dixie’s southern drawl came over the intercom. “Your mother is on the line to remind you about lunch.”
He was sure this latest invite was his mother’s way of setting him up on yet another blind ‘look who I brought with me’ date. Mom wanted him settled, reminding him every chance she got, and he didn’t have the heart to crush her dreams.
“You’re so handsome, intelligent, a hero. Women love you, son. I don’t understand why you don’t make more of an effort,” his mother would say, patting his cheek.
Leaning forward, he pressed the intercom button. “I’m trying to finish something up. Will you let her know I won’t forget?”
“Will do.”
For an intelligent woman, Gage marveled at his mother’s naiveté, because for the most part, those well-educated women who held fancy degrees, alumni of places like Harvard and Brown she introduced him to, became confused. One look at his high cheekbones, caramel macchiato skin with a dollop of cream (Danny’s words, not his) and his pitch-black hair, gave away his mixed Native American heritage, but then they would stare at the enigma when they saw his liquid-silver eyes. His biological mother had been Cherokee, which explained his more exotic features, his father some no-account red-neck who added to the Caucasian side of the gene pool. Where his unique eyes came from, he didn’t know.
Gage blew out an irritated breath. He’d lost count of how many times he explained his two white parents, Ronald Sean Harrison, Cedar Point’s local and only M.D. and his adoring wife, the retired Honorable Judge Debra Ann Harrison to those who didn’t know him. And the women his mom brought home were oblivious until the “I was adopted as a baby” talk took place. But even if they decided they were ‘interested,’ it wasn’t anything more than the physical. One woman had said once they were alone, “I bet you’re a savage in bed.”
Yeah. Wasn’t that a great reference to his biological mother’s people.
And if they did want something more than a quick tumble, they tended to bore him to tears. Those dates became operatic music and snooty cocktail parties, where they would greet their other female friends with “Darling” doing those cheek-to-cheek air kisses and talking about Botox or their latest trip to the Caymans.
“Oh, Chief?”
“Yeah?”
“Lee called in. He said someone spray-painted graffiti on the back of the store, and he’s blaming it on those Parker kids.”
“Let me guess. He wants Stanley to take the report?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“All right.”
Gage stood and adjusted the gun in his hip holster. Lee Warner and the rest of his merry men of bigots can kiss my—
“Chief?”
He bent and pressed the button on the com. “Yes, Dixie?”
“Don’t forget, I’m leaving at two today. I’m helping out with Danica’s adorable twins so she can get ready. I might not be here when you get back.”
“Got it.”
Gage headed for the SUV, happy his office was close to the back of the building, near the rear exit. He could come and go without anyone the wiser, and wh
en he finished up at the Food Barn, then went to grab a bite to eat with Mom, he was hoping to call it a day. After all, he had an important date with a tuxedo.
Stepping outside, he took in a deep breath. Autumn had arrived, and with it, the hubbub of the local Farmers Market drifted his way, along with the scent of roasting corn.
With the breeze rustling through the turning leaves of the trees and pinpricks of sun casting dancing patterns by his feet, he smiled, unlocked his door, and slipped behind the wheel.
Suddenly, he had the overwhelming urge to turn on his siren and flashing lights, then speed to the grocery store. Perhaps he’d buy a pack of gum and flirt with Lee’s pretty brown-eyed daughter before he took the vandalism report.
Shawna will giggle and flutter her lashes, making the hateful old guy squirm.
Yep, even if everything else stunk, some days, it was good to be Chief.
~
“Everyone,” the D.J. announced from his position behind the mic on the stage, “May I present, Mr. and Mrs. Mason Miller!”
As the crowd clapped and cheered, Danica’s heart swelled with emotion. Her beautiful sister and the man she loved took the dance floor, which was the basketball court in the high school gymnasium since it was the only place big enough to accommodate all their guests for the wedding reception.
The two of them had talked about eloping, doing a quickie ceremony in Vegas, but Mom and Dad said everyone in town would be disappointed if they didn’t ‘do it right,’ and Breck agreed, though it took a few days for Mase to cave. Her sister even gave Danica enough time to get back to her ‘before giving birth’ body. God bless her.
The church overflowed with large arrangements of cream and the palest of pink roses, dozens of flickering candles, tulle and silky ribbon. It had been a beautiful evening event, and jam-packed, turning into standing room only for some of the guests as the two of them exchanged their vows, “To have and to hold, from this day forward.” And when Breckin said, “I do,” Danica’s gaze swung to the best man, who glanced back at her.
Perfect timing.
It was wrong; she knew it. Her heart shouldn’t flutter. She was a married woman with two wonderful babies.
