I was an Ice Queen when I needed it. A firestorm of flickering flames when it suited me best. And a damn good cop at every opportunity.
There’d been losses. But there’d also been gains. Weston was gone. Declan King’s legacy was decimated. Harvey Stone and Trevor Jones might not have been returning to CIB, but we were still able to catch up, to share a beer together at the pub. Cawfield was on probation and handling it badly, but Pierce had a tight rein on him and was enjoying making him jump through hoops to prove himself.
I was a sergeant, and Damon was still in charge of HEAT, fighting fires and putting out blazes. Doing what he loved.
And if he occasionally got lost in a little heartache over Carole, I was there to hold him.
And when I needed someone to lean on, he was there to prop me up.
Working in this industry was not for the faint of heart, but then, neither of us were the fainting types, were we?
My father filed his bad days in a mental drawer at night.
I talked about them quietly when I was ready, and then let Damon take away the burden in the most sweetest of hells with his touch.
We both did what we had to do to get up the next day and do it all over again.
You go to bed each night and do what you gotta do to get up the next morning and do it all over again. Don't think about it; just do it. Know yourself, and you'll get through it in the end.
And I always had Carl. In my head. In my conscience. In my heart. All around me.
And that was OK. That was all right. Because doing this alone sucked, and I was determined to keep my friends close. And my loved ones even closer.
I walked into Damon’s house and saw our bags were packed and ready. The plane lifted off in just a couple of hours.
“I hope you didn’t pack a bikini in there,” I shouted.
“There is a spa pool at the resort,” came the muffled reply.
I followed the sound to this en suite bathroom.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he rummaged around in the bottom shelf of the cupboard.
“Looking for something. There. Got it.”
He stood up, hiding the ‘something’ behind his back.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Just you wait and see.”
“Show me now,” I told him.
“Patience is a virtue, love.”
“I’m not the patient type, and you know it.”
“Try harder.”
“I want to know what it is. Show me.”
He spread his hands wide; they were empty.
“See? Nothing. Now, go grab your coat, or we’ll be late.”
I huffed and stomped my way to the dining room, throwing my coat on over my jacket and holster.
“Are you taking your gun, Lara?”
I huffed some more, threw my coat off, letting it fall to the floor by the dining table, and then stomped to the office and removed the jacket, holster and gun. Both gun and holster successfully locked away in the safe, I donned my jacket and stomped back out into the dining room.
Damon smirked at me. He’d also picked my coat up off the floor and carefully folded it, draping it over a dining room chair.
I almost dropped it back on the floor to be ornery.
“Ready for firelight and stars?” Damon asked.
“Did you really pack a bikini?”
He shook out my coat and held it up for me to put on.
“I might have.”
“Wishful thinking,” I told him, thrusting an arm in one sleeve of the coat and then following it up with the other. He settled the coat on my shoulders and ran his hand down my arms.
His lips brushed against my nape, just under my hairline, making me shiver with promise.
“You can always skinny dip in the tub,” he told me. “It’s private to the suite.”
“Now there’s an idea. Snow falling and we skinny dip in the hot tub out on the open deck. Where it’s snowing.”
He winked at me. “Under the stars and beside the brazier.”
“Will we actually get some skiing in, you think?”
“I have my doubts.”
“You do?” I stopped to stare at him as he picked up our suitcases and crossed to the stairs down into the garage.
“Come on,” he called. “We’ve got a flight to catch. Have you got your keys?”
I checked my coat pockets.
Something - not my keys - was in one.
I pulled it out and stared at it blankly.
Damon popped his head around the corner on the stairs and watched me.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Will we get any skiing in?”
I looked down at the velvet box in my hands and then looked back up at him.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It might help if you opened it.”
I stared at him. I stared down at the box.
“Skiing?” he said silkily.
With a shaking hand, I lifted the lid on the velvet box. A sapphire and diamond ring glinted up at me. It wasn’t overly large or horrendously obnoxious. In fact, I was pretty sure I could wear it to work if I wanted; it wouldn’t have got in the way. I didn’t think it was overly expensive, either. Not ridiculously so, at any rate. Damon could certainly have spent a fortune and not batted an eyelash.
Which made it priceless.
It also complemented the engagement ring I kept in my jewellery box, one my father had given my mother many years ago. One I had never worn, but I could see sitting snuggly against this one if I ever decided to dress up for a special occasion.
Say, when I married the love of my life, for instance.
I looked up at Damon. He watched me carefully.
“I did warn you enough, didn’t I?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, unable to say another thing.
“Then you’ll wear it?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll wear it down the aisle when I marry you?”
“Yes.”
“So, that’s a yes to marrying me?”
“Yes.”
“Lara, love, you’re worrying me.”
He stepped out of the stairwell and walked up to me. Reaching out he took hold of my upper arms and looked me in the eye.
“What are you thinking?” he asked soberly.
“That we won’t be skiing much.”
A grin slowly spread his lips, and then he was wrapping me up in his arms and kissing me.
My back hit the wall. His thigh slipped between my legs. I opened myself to him. He took what I offered with a frantic determination.
I sometimes wondered if I was a mountain Damon needed to climb and conquer.
And then he moaned against my lips, pressed himself against my body, and kissed away all other thoughts.
We missed our flight. There was no skiing.
But we didn’t forgo the firelight and stars, even if they were in Auckland and not Cardrona in the South Island of New Zealand.
And I might have, at some stage over the weekend, modelled a pair of bikinis for him, but I made him swear on pain of death that he’d never tell anyone.
Some things were better left unsaid. He agreed.
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A Lick Of Heat: H.E.A.T. Book Four Page 32
