Harlequin Romantic Suspense December 2020 Box Set

by Addison Fox, Cindy Dees, Justine Davis

  “What?” she asked quickly as she stared back at him.

  His mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Never mind. If you don’t get it, I don’t plan to be the one to explain it to you.”

  “What? You mean the innuendo of me telling you to go for it? Exactly what ‘it’ are you referring to, Mister Carpenter?”

  “Ugh. If you flatly refuse to call me Reese, I’ll take Detective Carpenter over Mister. Mister Carpenter is my father.”

  “You’re still on duty,” she murmured. “That makes you Detective Carpenter.”

  “Stubborn woman,” he muttered. He commenced fiddling with the box. And fiddling. And fiddling some more.

  Nothing worked.

  “Wanna give it a try?” he asked, passing it to Yvette. Might as well share the misery and have equal-opportunity frustration around here.

  She worked on it for a while before passing it back to him. “I may need a drink stiffer than tea before we get to the end of this mystery,” she declared ruefully.

  He smiled at her, and she smiled back in camaraderie. It was nice. Really nice.

  “We could always just take a hammer to it,” he suggested.

  “Perish the thought! It’s evidence. We can’t destroy it because we got impatient!”

  He threw up his hands in surrender. “It was just a suggestion.”

  “Worst case, we can take it back to the lab and x-ray it. It sounds like there’s metal rattling around inside it, somewhere. If we can get a good look at that, we should be able to figure it out.”

  “Cheater,” he teased. “Giving up so easily, are you?”

  She shrugged. “I’m pragmatic. I know when to cut my losses.”

  “And run?” he asked quietly.

  She looked up at him, her eyes big and dark and serious. He could fall into those eyes and lose himself for a few decades if he wasn’t careful. “Sounds like you’re hanging up your badge and shifting to off-duty questioning, Detective.”

  “Guess I am. Let’s take a break from that beast, shall we?” He lifted his chin at the box. “I’ve got a bag of marshmallows in the cupboard. Can I interest you in roasting a few of them over the fire? It’s burned down to just about perfect embers.”

  Her whole face lit with joy, and he about fell over his own feet in shock. She was pretty all the time. But she’d just turned into a raving beauty right there in the middle of his kitchen. Holy moly. How did everyone miss how drop-dead magnificent this woman was when she smiled like that?

  An overpowering need to make her do that again swept over him.

  They carried the marshmallows and two long metal roasting sticks over to the hearth. They sat knee to knee and poked the sweets onto the sticks. He commenced carefully rotating his marshmallow, keeping it just the right distance from the glowing coals to gradually puff and turn a perfect golden brown. He watched on in horror as Yvette shoved hers close enough to the coals to catch on fire almost immediately.

  She yanked it out and blew on it to put it out.

  “Do you need a new one?” he asked.

  She looked up, startled. “No. This is exactly how I like mine.” To that end, she pulled the blackened, gooey mess off her stick, blew on it to cool it, and popped it into her mouth.

  “Of course, that’s how you like yours,” he muttered, carefully withdrawing his evenly browned, perfectly puffed marshmallow from the fireplace and blowing on it to cool it.

  “You mean because I’m not an anal-retentive over-roaster like you are?” she teased.

  “No, because you’re an impulsive, impatient sugar-burner,” he replied.

  “You live your way—I’ll live mine,” she retorted.

  He shook his head and popped his marshmallow into his mouth. Mmm. Yummy.

  Yvette had already put another marshmallow into the fire and incinerated the poor thing. She glanced up at him, catching him blatantly staring at her perfect profile. His cheeks heated. Hopefully, she would think it was the warmth from the fire doing that.

  “Tell you what, Reese. Why don’t you try one my way for a change? See if you like it.”

  “Only if you’ll try one of mine.”

  “Deal,” she replied, her eyes glinting in challenge.

  She blew out the charred remains of her marshmallow and pulled it off the stick. “Open up,” she ordered playfully.

  He opened his mouth for her, and it was damned sensuous having her slip that glob of crispy-crusted goo into his mouth. He closed his mouth and captured her fingertips between his lips. She froze, her gaze lifting to his before she pulled her hand free. Slowly. Sexily.

  “Like it?” she asked.

  He liked the sweet softness of her fingers very much. He nodded, his mouth too glued together by melted sugar to speak.

  “The burned part gives it a sharp undertone that nicely contrasts with the sweet, don’t you think?” she said.

  “I guess. But I still prefer my steaks with a char and my marshmallows without.” He poked a new marshmallow on his stick. “Okay. My turn.”

  He carefully roasted the bit of sugar to puffed, golden perfection. “Try this.”

  He held it out and she leaned forward. She grasped his wrist with her light, slender hand, and took the marshmallow delicately from his fingers. Did she mean to run her lips over the ends of his fingers like that? She was certainly taking her sweet time sucking his fingertips.

  His groin lurched to attention as her lush, rosy lips finally slid sensually off the ends of his fingers. She sat back, her head tilted to one side and her eyes closed as she savored the treat. “Good Golly, Miss Molly.” Yvette Colton was a closet hedonist.

  He could just imagine her eyes closed in ecstasy exactly the way they were now, her head thrown back, her entire body arched and relishing the pleasure he would give to her—

  Dude. Don’t be an idiot. Jordana would kill him if he laid a hand on her, let alone went to bed with her. This was his partner’s baby sister, for crying out loud. His partner’s very grown-up, very sexy, and if he wasn’t misreading her, very flirty sister. They weren’t exactly snowed in, but a storm was raging outside, and they were cozy and alone in front of a crackling fire in the dead of night. It didn’t get too much more romantic than this. And she seemed to feel it, too.

  She startled him out of his lascivious thoughts with, “You have a bit of marshmallow on the corner of your mouth. Right here.” Using the pad of her thumb, she rubbed the corner of his mouth lightly.

  “Did that get it?” he asked, his voice noticeably huskier than usual.

  “No. Hmm.” She leaned forward slowly, her gaze locking on his. “Guess I’ll have to get it this way.”

  She closed the distance between them very slowly, giving him plenty of time to pull away. But he didn’t. He sat perfectly still, unable to believe that this beautiful, fey creature was leaning in toward him, closer and closer.

  Gently, so lightly he barely felt it, her mouth touched the corner of his. Her lips were soft and plump, and then—

  Jesus, Mary and Joseph. That’s her tongue.

  She licked the corner of his mouth. It was a quick little flick with just the tip of her tongue against his skin, but there was no mistaking it. All of a sudden, there wasn’t nearly enough oxygen in his living room. Either that or he was no kidding hyperventilating.

  Cripes. He hadn’t done that around a girl since he’d been about thirteen and first started noticing them as anything other than annoying not-boys.

  “There,” she whispered. “That’s better.”

  Moving as slowly as she had, giving her fully as much time to withdraw as she had given him, he lifted his right hand to the back of her head. Threaded his fingers beneath that heavy, warm twist of hair gathered at the base of her neck, and gently, gently, urged her forward.

  He brushed his lips across hers lightly, more an invita
tion than an actual kiss. She lifted her chin a bit and he tucked his a bit, and their lips met again, this time fitting together a little more firmly, a little more definitely a kiss.

  Her mouth was softer than the marshmallows and tasted every bit as sweet. The fire was warm on the right side of his face, the room cool on the left side of it. Light and dark. Hot and cold. Yin and yang. As opposite as Yvette and him. And yet, they fit each other.

  Not one to overdo on a first kiss, he lifted his mouth away from hers a few inches and whispered. “There. Now, that’s better.”

  Danged if she didn’t reach up, this time her fingers twining into his hair, to tug him forward once more, murmuring a little breathlessly, “Where do you think you’re going? Come here, cowboy.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Profound relief came over Yvette as Reese swept her into the circle of his arms and drew her all the way into his lap. He might be big and strong, but he was infinitely gentle with her. His jean-clad thighs were muscular under hers, and the bulky sweatshirt cushioned the hard physique beneath it just enough to make her new seat imminently comfortable. The overall effect was one of being surrounded in safety and warmth.

  “You’re so delicate,” he murmured. “It feels like I’m holding a hand-blown crystal bird when you’re in my arms.”

  Thank God. He didn’t call her small, or heaven forbid, childlike. “I assure you, I won’t break.”

  “Good to know,” he sighed as his lips closed on hers. He didn’t go in for the slobbery tonsillectomy, thank goodness. Rather, he kissed with finesse, his mouth alternately brushing across hers and moving more deeply against hers.

  He kissed really well. Or maybe she was just really out of practice. Oh, God. Did a person forget how to kiss properly? Was she being a total geek?

  He lifted his mouth a fraction of an inch away from hers. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You tensed.”

  He’d felt that? Dang. The man was tuned in to her big time. Oh, right. Observant detective in the house. Note to self: for once, the detective’s intense observational skills were delightful. Fantastic, even.

  “I was wondering where you learned to kiss like that,” she murmured.

  “Behind the gym in tenth grade, I suppose.”

  “First girlfriend?”

  “Not exactly. Best friend’s older sister. She wanted to practice kissing and only dragged me out behind the school to perfect her skills.”

  Yvette snorted. “That’s what she said.”

  He grinned against her mouth, and it was the most delicious sensation having his lips curve against hers, warmth and humor permeating the kiss. She ran her fingertips over the short hairs at the back of his neck. They were as neat and orderly as the rest of him.

  But then he tilted his head slightly and deepened the kiss. The humor drained from him, and something darker, hotter, sexier emerged from him. Her breathing accelerated, and excitement at the sudden danger of him made her tingle.

  She’d always had a thing for bad boys, which was why she was single now. As maturity and common sense had invaded her dating choices, she had no interest in the drama and heartbreak that came with immature bad boys. Which left her knowing to choose sensible, boring men. Emphasis on boring. Single seemed like the better option for her.

  But Reese apparently was both sensible and had this hidden other side. Who knew?

  His arms tightened fractionally around her, and he made a faint noise in the back of his throat that sounded a whole lot like frustration. As in male, sexual desire being tightly reined in. Regarding her? Bless the man. No male had looked at her with anything other than the most passing of interest ever since she’d gotten back to Braxville.

  His big hands moved, one sliding down to her waist, and the other up to cup the back of her head. Still, he was slow and careful in his movements, as if he cherished this moment and wanted it to be perfect.

  She grew a little impatient and took the lead, kissing her way across his jaw until she reached his ear. She nipped his earlobe lightly and then swirled her tongue into the shell of his ear. He groaned aloud, then, and his arms tightened significantly around her. She shifted her weight, throwing her thigh across his hips until she straddled his lap. Better. Now she was at the right height to kiss him without having to tilt her head back.

  Oh.

  And to notice the hard ridge behind his zipper that she was now straddling in the most suggestive possible way.

  She probably ought to climb off the poor man before she made him any more uncomfortable. She lifted herself to her knees, but Reese swiftly pulled her back down with effortless strength that stole her breath away altogether. He did turn to one side, though, shifting her far enough off his lap to remove the wildly intimate contact of their nether regions. Fair. But all the while, he never broke the kiss that had become blatantly sexual, now.

  He ran his tongue along her lower lip, and then caught its plumpness lightly between his teeth. She gasped into his mouth and was shocked to realize she was arching her back, lifting her body up and into him eagerly. Thankfully, his forearm tightened across her shoulder blades and supported her because she was starting to feel more than a little boneless, here.

  He slid his mouth down the column of her neck, and she threw her head back, giving him unfettered access to her throat. His mouth was fiery hot against her skin as he kissed the frantic pulse there. His lips slid lower, into the vee where the top of her shirt unbuttoned.

  The hand at her waist came around front and fiddled at her neck for a moment and her shirt opened a little more. He took advantage of the exposed skin to kiss a little lower on her chest. He stopped at the upper reaches of her cleavage, though, and kissed his way back up to her throat and then across her collarbone as far as her shirt would allow. An urge to rip the garment off completely surged through her.

  Her palms slid restlessly across his neck, under his chin, traced his jaw and cheeks. Flesh. She wanted flesh. To that end, she slipped her hands under his sweatshirt. Darn it. T-shirt. She tugged at the soft cotton impatiently.

  Better. Warm, smooth, male skin.

  Dang. The man had no body fat. At all. She felt only muscle and more muscle under her hands, hard and unyielding. Like the man himself. She might not always agree with him, but she could respect his certainty of who and what he was.

  Reese slid off the hearth, taking her with him, and stretching out at full length on the thick, soft flokati rug in front of the fireplace. His body was a warm wall of man and muscle and she gloried in pressing into him. Their legs tangled together and his forearm was a living pillow beneath her ear as he leaned down to kiss her again.

  She welcomed him with open arms, loving the way his sweatshirt rubbed lightly against her chest as he braced himself above her. He kissed her long and slow, taking his time, in no rush to advance his cause, for which she was incredibly grateful.

  So many guys just fell on her. Kiss, tongue, grope, go for the bra hooks…as if it was a checklist to be hurried through en route to equally hurried sex. But Reese… Reese took his time, savoring every step along the way. She actually had no idea if sex was even his end goal here. She got the impression that possibly this was all he had in mind tonight.

  Honestly, she loved how it took the pressure off her to put out, how she was able to just relax and enjoy the moment without having to mentally steel herself to say no and be blasted by accusations and recriminations about being a cock tease.

  Eventually, Reese propped himself up on an elbow and smoothed her hair back from her face. He murmured, “I could look at you all day and all night and never get tired of doing it.”

  “I don’t know. After a while your eyeballs might start bleeding.”

  “Why do you put yourself down like that?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.

  “Saves other people the trouble
of doing it, I guess.”

  He smiled a little. “Spoken like the baby of a family that engaged in a lot of teasing.”

  “Spoken like a man who knows my siblings.”

  “I know one of them quite well, and Jordana teases and makes jokes to lighten stressful situations.” A look of concern flashed across his face. “This isn’t a stressful situation for you, is it?” He sat up quickly.

  She sat as well, but more slowly. “Not at all. In fact, I have been thinking about how nice it was not to feel pressured to end up in bed with you, tonight.”

  “For real?” he asked quietly.

  “For real,” she answered firmly. “You’re a gentleman, and I really, really appreciate that.”

  He smiled a little sheepishly. “I’ve been called old-fashioned a time or two. Women looking for a hookup don’t appreciate my desire to get to know them before I sleep with them.” He shrugged. “First, I want—” He broke off.

  “What?” she asked, dying to know what he wanted before having sex. Not that she was looking to—

  Oh, who was she kidding? She was totally looking to have sex with him eventually.

  “I want to get to know a woman. Have a personal connection. An actual relationship.”

  “Wow. That’s enlightened of you.”

  He glanced up quickly as if checking to see if she was being sarcastic or not. She smiled and added, “I mean it.”

  She leaned forward, placing her hand on his cheek which was warm and smooth with just a hint of razor stubble starting to roughen it. She kissed him chastely, but found herself lingering over the kiss. Never in her life had she liked kissing a man the way she liked kissing this one.

  He sighed and dropped a light kiss on the end of her nose. “It’s getting late, and the roads have to be awful by now. I shouldn’t have kept you this long. I’m sorry. It was selfish of me.”

  “Do you see me complaining?” she asked tartly.

  He smiled and rose smoothly to his feet, then held a hand down to her. She laid her hand in his bigger, callused one, loving how his grip swallowed her whole hand. He tugged her to her feet. “Give me five minutes to warm up the truck and put the chains on my tires, okay?”