by J. C. Wilder
But there was no way he could allow her to date another man. She’d have to go through him first.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he lied.
Randa gave a squeal and a little jiggle that made his lungs constrict at the sight of her ample breasts shifting under the cotton-candy pink uniform. “Thanks, Johnny.” She gave him a wide smile. “You’re the best.”
He cleared his throat and headed for the door. His hand was on the handle when he looked back at her. His gaze moved over her delectable curves and he gave her a lazy smile. “Yeah, well, you’ll never know for sure unless you go out with me, babe.”
She laughed and waggled her finger at him. “You’re a bad, bad man, Johnny Stevens.”
“You have no idea how bad I can be—”
“Hey, Randa,” Jay interrupted. “If you’re done playing with your boyfriend, can I get some more coffee?”
Randa laughed and winked at John before turning away to grab a coffeepot. “Now Jay, you know he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just Johnny.”
John exited the diner and, with a scowl on his face, stomped to his truck in the tiny lot next door.
“Just Johnny, my ass,” he muttered. He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. Sliding behind the wheel, he shoved the key into the ignition and cranked the engine.
Through the wide windows of the diner, Randa moved along the counter topping off cups of coffee and dispensing bright smiles. When she made her way to Picasso, her smile faded and, to someone who knew her well, she appeared ill at ease.
She set the pot on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. Her smile had fled and she looked serious until Picasso said something that made her laugh.
She held out her hands as if to keep him at arm’s length when the other man caught one hand and held it in his big paw before raising it to his lips. John couldn’t ignore the irritation he felt at the sight of his coworker kissing the knuckles of his woman.
He growled low in his throat as he threw the truck into gear. The tires squealed when he floored the accelerator and tore into the street.
* * * * *
“You’re an evil woman, Randa,” Picasso said.
“What makes you say that?” She sat the coffeepot on the counter before removing his empty plates to stack them in the bus pan. It never failed to amaze her how much her boys could eat and still manage to chase the bad guys. “Do you need anything else?”
He shook his head. “Why don’t you go out with John? His serial dating proclivities aside, he’s a good guy.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I wasn’t aware you’d heard us.”
He shrugged. “I have good ears. And I’m flattered you want to go out with me but right now I just don’t have time for a relationship. My art takes what little spare time I have left.”
Unabashed, she grinned. “The least you could do is wait until I ask before you say no.”
Picasso laughed and caught her hand, holding it in his big paw. “My dear, Miranda, if it weren’t unfair to you, I’d ask you to wait for me to remove my head from my ass and realize what a gem you are. Your butterscotch brownies alone are worth crawling on hands and knees over broken glass.” He raised her hand to his lips.
When his mouth brushed her knuckles, she wished she could feel something more than mere amusement at his touch. The sad reality was that Johnny was the only man to inspire any feelings in her that were more than brotherly.
But that relationship would never happen. As she’d told him earlier, she didn’t want to risk becoming another in a long string of women he’d conquered. Not that he’d ever spoken about his girlfriends in that manner. Unlike some of the younger officers, he was remarkably tight-lipped about the women he dated.
The squeal of tires brought Picasso’s head up and both of them looked out the window to see Johnny’s truck take off at high speed.
“What was that about?” She pulled her hand away.
“He’s jealous.” Picasso rose and fished out his wallet. “Probably doesn’t like me chatting you up, pure and simple.” He dropped a few bills on the counter.
A queer tickle started in the pit of her stomach and she rubbed her hand over her belly. “I doubt that.”
“I don’t.” He gave her a wink before he tucked his book under his arm and exited the diner.
Randa picked up the bills and stuffed them into her pocket, her movements on autopilot. The thought of Johnny being attracted to her, seriously attracted, was enough to make her half-sick to her stomach with excitement.
At just over six-foot tall, with his bold features, straight nose and sharply etched cheekbones, women stopped in their tracks to watch him. His eyes were the darkest of blue and piercing in their intensity—the kind of eyes that caught people’s attention. His dark hair was trimmed every three weeks into a military cut that accentuated his strong features. But there was something about Johnny that was special, unique, and it went far beyond the physical. Though he was one of the toughest, most decorated officers in the department, he was also funny, kind and well-respected by his fellow officers.
In short, he was the proverbial good guy.
What was it about this man that turned her on to the point she wanted to act like a complete wanton? She’d never been sexually flagrant before but there was something about him that made her long to become wild, untamed. She wanted to throw him across the counter and have her way with him but she knew it would be a big mistake.
He’d asked her out several times but she’d always turned him down knowing if she was foolish enough to make a move on her sexual attraction to him, she’d get hurt. From what she’d seen and heard, Johnny had problems with commitment. He couldn’t stay faithful to one woman for more than a few weeks any more than she could walk away from Fitzy’s Diner. Besides, she’d seen the women he’d dated and none of them came even close in size to her generous size twenty butt. He had a tendency to date skinny blonde women, not dark-haired ladies of epic proportions.
She shook her head and picked up the bus pan of dirty dishes. Regardless of the fact that he was the only man to make her toes curl, he wasn’t ready to settle with just one woman and she definitely wasn’t the kind of woman who could share her man.
Chapter Two
The past five hours had been pure hell.
After Randa had shocked him with the news that she viewed Picasso as potential dating material, while on patrol he’d been saddled with one accident report after another.
John pulled his cruiser into Randa’s driveway behind her aging pickup. If motorists would pay attention to their driving and stay off their cell phones, he wouldn’t be suffering with a stiff neck and an acute case of writer’s cramp. He turned off the ignition and exited the car. Walking through the yard to her front door, he keyed his shoulder mike.
“565,” he said.
“Go ahead, 565,” the radio bleated.
“I’ll be on a 10-56 at my 15.” He glanced at his house across the cul-de-sac from Randa’s. While he wasn’t really at home, it was close enough.
“18:54.”
Her door was standing wide open and the screen door was unlatched. He pounded on the metal door before opening it.
“Hey, Randa, it’s John.”
Silence.
“You’d better be dressed, babe.” He spoke loudly as he stepped inside, half hoping she was naked. Seeing Randa au naturel would be the only thing that could improve his day.
The living room was empty and in its usual disarray. A newspaper was spread across the coffee table and the glossy advertisements were in a messy pile on the floor.
Every flat surface in the room sported at least one framed photo of friends or family and in the side window a ragged houseplant looked in sore need of a drink. Since she spent most of her time at the diner, her home was usually disorganized and cluttered but still homey, comfortable. He wouldn’t hesitate to kick back on her couch and watch football.
He moved through the dining room and into the
kitchen to find both rooms empty. The kitchen windows were open and a fresh breeze fluttered the white curtains. The cheerful room was awash in sunlight and the sink was cluttered with dirty dishes and baking sheets. A cooling rack sat on the counter, piled with fresh oatmeal raisin cookies, his favorite.
He snagged a big fat cookie, barely managing to muffle a groan when he bit into it. His mother’s oatmeal raisin didn’t even come close to the perfection of Randa’s.
Still munching his pilfered snack, he headed out the back door and onto the patio. Early this spring he and some of his fellow officers had installed the stone pavers in exchange for a huge cookout featuring Ro’s famous pulled-pork BBQ and Randa’s homemade ice cream. While her house may have been a little neglected, her backyard was anything but.
The lush grass was neatly trimmed and the flowerbeds were filled with a multitude of brilliant blooms. In the far corner of the yard was a massive oak tree, which sported a rope swing, perfect for pushing a beautiful woman. Thick green plants with long stalks and pale blue flowers on the end surrounded the base of the tree. Hostas maybe? While he didn’t know one flower from the next, he could appreciate the beauty of her yard.
In the center of the lawn near a child’s wading pool was a lounge chair with a shapely female form stretched out on top. . Clad in dark blue bikini bottoms, his gaze skimmed her generous feminine curves which left no doubt it was Randa.
She lay face down, her head obscured by a broad-brimmed straw hat. She’d removed her top, leaving her back bare. While the generous cut of her suit covered her backside, it did nothing to hide her beautiful curves.
Now that was an ass. Big enough to fill a man’s hands, it was grade A, prime sweetmeat. Nicely curved and plump, it was just the right size to cushion a man as he took his woman from behind. Oh, yeah, he so wanted a piece of this woman. Heat rolled through his gut and he felt the immediate need to adjust his gun belt.
He probably should leave her to her nap. She looked so peaceful sleeping in the sun but, like a moth to flame, he continued toward her even as he tried to talk himself out of it.
She didn’t stir when his shadow fell across her legs. Her skin glistened with a thick layer of suntan oil and, in spite of the protection, her back was already turning pink from sun exposure.
He should wake her and warn her about that, shouldn’t he? It was his duty as an officer to see to the safety of the civilians of Haven and he took his duties very seriously.
He cleared his throat.
She twitched then gave a gentle snore. He grinned. Even her snore was adorable. John bent and touched her shoulder. Her skin was warm and slick and he longed to run his fingers down her silky smooth spine until he reached the elastic of her bikini bottoms.
He cleared his throat and gave her a gentle nudge.
“Randa—”
Her head came up so fast her hat tumbled into the grass. Her brown eyes were fuzzy with confusion and they went wide when her gaze settled on him.
“Johnny, what are you doing here—”
She pushed up from the lounger and he caught a glimpse of her ample breasts just seconds before she remembered her topless state. She gasped and grabbed the towel she’d been laying on to cover herself, then rolled toward him. The chair tipped and John stepped backward to avoid being hit.
His right foot connected with the side of the plastic pool and he lost his balance. His arms windmilled in a futile effort to correct himself but it was too late.
He fell into the pool with a splash. Cool water ran into his eyes and nose, momentarily choking him, and he raised his head above water and spluttered. His legs were still outside the pool and his substantial weight had bent the plastic wall and water was running out into the grass.
He sat up and shook his head before he tilted back his head and stared up at the cloudless blue sky above. His hands clenched, then released.
This was not what he’d had in mind…
“Ohmigod, ohmigod, are you alright?” Randa stood over him clad in just her bikini bottoms with a skimpy towel clutched to her generous bosom.
“Yes,” he gritted. “I’m just great.”
“Please, let me help you.” She stepped over his legs and into the pool.
“I don’t need any help.”
She ignored him and grabbed his arm when he braced his hand on the bottom of the pool. In his haste to get out of the water, he pushed upward too fast and she reared. Her towel slipped and he caught another glimpse of one breast and a perfect rosy nipple.
Distracted, his hand slid across the slick pool bottom and he landed on his rear, hard. His weight pulled her off balance and her feet slid out from beneath her and she fell. Her elbow jabbed into his gut just below his vest when she handed on him, knocking the air from his lungs and forcing his head underwater.
John raised his head and blinked water from his eyes for the second time. His arms were full of damp, slick female flesh and Randa lay sprawled across him. Her thighs bracketed his and his cock hardened at the feel of her feminine form. The scent of suntan oil and warm skin made him dizzy with desire. It wouldn’t take much to roll her over and sink into her hot, sweet depths. It took every ounce of control he possessed to not rub his aching groin against her body.
“I’m so mortified,” she moaned.
Her cheeks were pink and it wasn’t from sun exposure. Her damp hair formed a spiked halo and she licked her lips, drawing his gaze to her mouth.
Her lips were full but not overly so and they were, more often then not, curved in a smile. She rarely ever wore lipstick and she had a tendency to bite her lower lip when she was thinking hard.
Yes, Miranda White had the most beautiful mouth in Haven and he wanted to taste it, now.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he said.
Her eyes widened and her head came up. “You are?”
“Yes, I am.”
Her damp hair was silky soft and baby fine when he cupped the back of her head. He ran his fingers through the short strands before guiding her mouth to his.
Her lashes fluttered and the moment their lips touched, she sighed and opened for him. She tasted of mint tea and warm woman and, in that moment, he wanted her so badly he felt like he would explode if he couldn’t touch her, feel her against him.
John slid his arm around her waist to pull her tighter as their tongues sought each other. Her response was tentative and for a second he thought she’d pull away. In the blink of an eye, she went from unsure to ravenous as she returned his kiss with unabashed enthusiasm. She caught his tongue with her teeth and gave it a gentle tug.
He growled low in his throat and a surge of lust rolled through his gut. Mentally cursing his bulletproof vest, he moved his hand to her hip, pulling her closer until the apex of her thighs covered his hardening flesh. His zipper and her infinitesimal garment were the only things that kept them apart. He wanted to tear off her bikini bottoms and sink himself into her heat. He needed to feel the damp slide of his skin against hers as he thrust himself into—
His grip tightened and he rolled until she was beneath him, his hips nestled intimately between her thighs. Lost in the heat of the moment, he cupped one plump buttock. She was one sexy package and he was going to have her or he’d die trying.
He squeezed her rounded flesh and her loud, ragged moan brought him to his senses. Gentling their kiss, he nipped her lower lip before he raised his head.
Most of the water had run out of the pool and into the grass and he’d failed to notice this fact until now. Randa lay beneath him in a shallow puddle of cool water. Her eyes were closed and her breathing uneven. A soft smile curved her reddened lips and she had the look of a woman who’d been thoroughly kissed. Her nails scraped his shirt and her lashes fluttered. She blinked several times before her dark gaze met his.
“Wow.”
He couldn’t prevent the wide grin that split his face. Talk about an understatement. He was soaked from head to toe and he was doubtful her suntan lotion would wash out o
f his uniform but none of that mattered right now. He had the woman of his dreams beneath him. “Wow yourself.”
“Johnny?” She bit her lower lip and he was struck by the urge to suck on it.
“Yeah?” He dipped his head to kiss her again.
“I hear sirens.”
His lips brushed hers. “Me too, babe—”
Then his head snapped up when realized he was hearing sirens and the reality of their situation sucker-punched him.
Tangled in the flattened pool, they lay in the open where anyone could see them. Randa was almost naked and he was in uniform, technically on lunch, but still very much on duty.
He scanned her neighbors’ houses. He knew the house to the left was empty but the one to the right had a family of five living there. Anyone could’ve looked out the upper windows and seen them romping like two horny teenagers.
The sirens grew louder.
“Fuck—” He released her and pushed to his feet. Grabbing her arms, he hauled her up beside him. “I have to go.”
She clutched her soaked towel to her chest and gave him a quick nod. “Of course—”
He hauled her close and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “I’ll be back after work tonight, okay?”
Her smile was back, though wobbly. She nodded again. “I’ll be here.”
One of the hardest things he’d ever had to do was walk away from her. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into the bushes and tear off the rest of her bathing suit and throw her towel to the ground. He’d open his pants and sink into her and she’d be hot, wet and tight around him…
He scowled as he stomped through the grass toward the side of the house. The wail of sirens turned into the cul-de-sac and he groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was face his fellow officers soaked from head to toe with a raging hard-on.
