"Aww, nuts, I got handcuffs. I was hoping for one of those neon, glow-in-the-dark vibrators."
Josie Marino sighed as she pulled the pair of faux-leopard-fur–lined cuffs from her goody bag. She'd been unable to resist peeking inside as she prepared to leave Bare Essentials, the sultry new store in town, after tonight's pre-grand-opening party.
Diane Tomkins, who'd also stayed to help clean up, grimaced. "When I saw those green vibrators, my first thought was of a bunch of poor little Martian eunuchs running around."
Josie chuckled, not correcting her friend on eunuch anatomy.
They weren't merely being nice in staying late to help Kate and Cassie, the Tremaine cousins, who owned the store. Staying meant they got to spend more time ogling the sultry products the women would sell. It also gave them a chance to get to know Daisy Arnett, who'd stayed, too. Josie had decided to like Daisy when the redhead had playfully swung around a dildo the size of a summer sausage, thinking no one was looking.
"I'd rather have gotten undies like yours." Josie glanced at Daisy's bag. "Though nobody'd ever see me in them."
"Same here," Daisy murmured.
Diane rolled her eyes. "I had so much more imagination than you two when I was your age. Ever heard of cops and robbers?"
Josie snorted. Cops and robbers had been her least favorite game as a kid, particularly after one of her rat-faced cousins had "jailed" her by tying her to a tree blocks from home. He'd left her there for two hours. Her mother still blamed Josie's dislike of authority figures on her cousin Lou.
Of course, now, as an adult, she could picture enticing variations on the game. There were worse fates than having a hot, hunky guy play big bad cop, cuffing her, leaving her vulnerable to all sorts of naughty pat-downs and full-body searches. Or, better yet, having him play the perp, letting her do the cuffing, patting, and searching.
Unfortunately, there was no man in her life, hunky or otherwise.
As the image of a dark-haired, ruggedly handsome man flashed through her brain, she thrust it away. Mike Kincaid was not in her life, even if he did practically live under her feet. So what if they shared an adjoining wall in their separate apartments? Who cared that she could sometimes hear him singing in the shower, or smell his spicy cologne in the hall? Big fat hairy deal that she sometimes woke up at night after having another incredibly erotic dream about the man. Sure, those dreams left her shaking, needing something she'd done without for a long time…a non-vibrator-induced orgasm.
It didn't matter. Because Mike Kincaid really was a cop, the epitome of authority figures. Plus, he wasn't her type. And she wasn't his. Mike was an old-fashioned guy, born and raised here in Pleasantville, Ohio. The poster child for the wholesomeness of small-town America. The kind of man who'd want Betty Crocker in the kitchen, and Mrs. Brady driving the kids to school in the minivan. Not a punked-out nail salon owner who changed her hair color monthly, had several piercings, and wore black engineer boots with filmy dresses. Not a slim 24-year-old who got carded when trying to buy beer because she looked like a teenager. Not someone like Josie Marino.
Besides which, Mike was too darn nice, too conservative, polite, and easygoing. Not the kind of wild, provocative man she'd always pictured herself with. Certainly not the kind of man she'd ever have expected to inspire instant, unrelenting desire.
Somehow, though, he'd done just that.
She was still thinking of her neighbor and unrelenting desire when she got home ten minutes later, to her apartment above her salon. She'd inherited the building, and its tenant in the second apartment — Mike Kincaid — last year.
After changing into a tank top and pair of cotton boxers, she pulled the handcuffs out and slipped one over her wrist. "Oh, officer, how can I convince you to let me go?" she whispered saucily. Then she snapped the cuff shut. The fake fur eliminated any discomfort.
"Enough." After being surrounded by sexual items, she suspected her dreams would be especially vivid tonight. She glared at the wall that separated her bedroom from Mike Kincaid's. "You stay out of my head tonight, mister hotshot deputy. An average, run-of-the-mill dream will suit me just fine."
Reaching for the tiny key that had come with the handcuffs, she began visualizing her favorite movie stars. She'd just pictured Heath Ledger and Freddie Prinze, Jr. arguing over who'd get the honor of nibbling on her pretty toes when she realized something.
The key didn't work.
Mike Kincaid was the last guy on the force to fall victim to the 24-hour bug that had grounded most of the deputies in town this summer. He'd been all set to brag about being too in-shape and healthy to be sidelined by a pesky virus that caused fevers, chills, and fatigue. Then he'd started sweating, shivering, and feeling as though he'd been run over by a truck.
He'd spent the entire day flat on his back. Frankly, he could think of a hell of a lot of ways he'd rather spend a day in bed. Most of them, unfortunately, involved the one woman in town who looked at him like something she'd scraped off the bottom of her shoe: Josie Marino. His landlady.
They'd gotten off to a bad start when they'd met, after he'd made the mistake of cracking a Josie and the Pussycats joke. It had been pretty unoriginal, but in his own defense, the woman had flustered him from the minute he'd laid eyes on her.
She was just so…different. Larger than life, though petite in stature. Sweetly innocent though saucy and outrageous. She had a comeback for everything, played a constant game of shock and evade. If he commented that he liked her hair color, she'd change it the next week. When he'd asked her if it had hurt to get her ear pierced so high, she'd driven him frigging nuts by saying it hadn't been as painful as some other body parts she'd had pierced. The mental image of what other body parts she'd been talking about had been torturous. It seemed the friendlier and more polite he'd been toward her, the more she'd withdrawn. The more she'd pulled back, the more determined he'd been to get through to her.
So he supposed it was no huge surprise that Josie had starred in his hot, feverish dreams all day. He just wondered as he lay on the couch, reaching for his water glass, if he'd be able to keep her out of his head during the coming night.
Probably not. Particularly because as he fell back to sleep on his living room couch, he felt pretty sure he called out her name.
"No, this is not possible." But it was. The key wouldn't unlock the cuff, which dangled off her wrist in all its fake-animal-pelt glory.
Since it was past ten, she couldn't call someone for help. Diane had had a look of anticipation in her eye tonight. She and her husband were probably busy trying out whatever had been in Diane's goody bag.
She remembered seeing a light on in Mike's front window. If anyone might have a spare handcuff key lying around, it was a cop.
Taking a deep breath for courage, she left her apartment. She stood outside his door, wondering if she had the guts to face the guy she'd had such intensely seductive dreams about. Nope. She didn't. About to turn away, she paused when she heard a man's deep, throaty moan.
"Oh, God, he's got someone in there with him."
Shuddering, she closed her eyes in dismay, ready to dart back to her place and tug a pillow over her head to block out any potential sex noises. Bad enough hearing anyone having a great time between the sheets when hers were so completely barren. But for some reason, it almost felt painful to imagine Mike Kincaid with another woman. "Stupid. He doesn't even know you're alive," she mumbled.
Before she could leave, however, she heard him call out a name.
"Josie."
She froze, completely shocked, thinking she must have been mistaken. But when she heard a thump, curiosity drowned out the voice of caution whispering in her ear. Unable to help herself, she reached for the doorknob, somehow not surprised the sexy deputy trusted his small-town world enough to leave his door unlocked.
Uncertain but determined, Josie pushed the door open, and stepped into Mike Kincaid's apartment.
Mike Kincaid was naked. Gloriously, stunningly, mouthwateringly naked, lying sprawled on his sofa, a single white bedsheet tangled around his feet. "Holy moly," Josie whispered as she stood, open-jawed, in the doorway of his apartment. She examined his body, which was gently illuminated by the muted glow of a light left on in his kitchen.
He didn't respond. He didn't open his eyes or give her any indication he knew she was there, even though he'd called her name moments before.
A better woman, a nicer woman, would have left immediately. Only a very wicked one would remain frozen, wide-eyed, not even daring to move to wipe the drool off her chin. Josie had never considered herself wicked, but right now, at this moment, niceness could go take a flying leap.
He was big. She'd seen that even when he was fully clothed. But she'd never quite imagined just how broad those shoulders were. Nor could she have pictured the perfect swirl of dark hair on his rippled chest. One of his thick arms was arched back to cushion his head, and the other was draped across his slim waist. She continued her visual survey, her gaze tripping down the taut layers of muscle on his stomach, and the narrow jut of his hips. When she finally worked up the nerve to look lower, she sucked in a deep breath and had to lean back against the door for support. "Oh, my God." The man definitely had every right to be cocky. He was, quite simply, magnificent.
"Josie."
Caught. Busted. A peeping Tomasina. "I'm sorry, I heard a thump and I…"
"Fell off the couch," he mumbled. "Barely managed to get back up here."
Finally she noticed that Mike wasn't opening his eyes, wasn't sitting up to talk to her. Closing the door, she took a tentative step closer, until she saw the color in his cheeks. The glow on his golden skin hadn't been merely caused by a haze of lust in her brain. A sheen of moisture covered his entire body. "Are you okay?"
"Sick," he mumbled. "Not that you'd care, if you knew, which you don't, since you're a dream."
Dream? He thought she was a dream? "Mike, I'm really here. Can I do anything to help?" Steeling herself to avoid sneaking more peeks at this gloriously helpless man, she reached out and touched his forehead. His skin was slick and hot.
At her touch, his eyelids fluttered open. Mike's chocolate brown eyes had never been more knowing and intimate than right now as they stared into hers. "Josie?"
"Yes, I'm here. When's the last time you took something for the fever?"
He shrugged. "I ran out of aspirin."
"I've got some at my place."
Before she could turn away, he'd grabbed her hand, showing surprising strength for a man who appeared so weak. "Stay, Josie," he ordered in a sultry whisper, his voice sending shivers through her even as his touch electrified her skin. "Stay with me."
"I'll be right back."
He closed his eyes again and sighed. "I know you will. You've been here all day."
Mike supposed it was possible Josie really had just been standing beside him, instead of him just picturing her here, as he sometimes did. But he somehow doubted it. If she'd really been here, she would never have touched him with those soft fingers. No, she maintained a strict physical barrier toward him, which really rankled when he saw how huggy and friendly she was with other people. And she'd have been wearing some wildly patterned, loose dress to hide the slim body that had been the subject of his fantasies for months. No, it was only in his hot, erotic dreams that she'd wear something as sexy as the outfit she'd had on. That spaghetti-strapped tank top was thin enough for him to see the dark, pouty nipples of her perfect little breasts. He'd felt hungry…starving for a taste of her. And the boxers had clung to that curvy, pert butt that had the most enticing wiggle when she walked. Not to mention those legs…
The fantasy Josie was back in what could have been a minute or could have been hours, still wearing her sexy as hell underclothes. She fumbled around in a purse. "Here, take these." She shoved some pills in his mouth and held a glass to his lips.
He swallowed. "You came back."
"Of course I came back. Did you think I wouldn't?"
He forced a smile to his lips. "You always do the opposite of what I hope you'll do."
"That's not true!"
"Yeah, it is. And by the way, I hate your hair. Go back to orange."
Her mouth dropped open and her hand shot up to touch the short spiky layers surrounding her face. Jet black. God, when he'd seen her the other day in the new color and style, he'd almost fallen at her feet in a puddle of lust. Frankly, Mike had never bought into the whole Snow White thing. He'd always considered himself more of a Rapunzel kinda guy. But seeing Josie's perfect, pale skin, so stark against the black hair, with those springtime green eyes that dominated her face, and her full, rich red lips, well, he'd been a goner. Or, at least, more of a goner than he already was.
"Are you really awake?" she asked suspiciously.
"Hell if I know."
"Well, then, I guess it's safe to assume you probably won't remember me telling you to take your opinions about my hair and shove them…" Then her eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute, you hate my hair, you want me to dye it orange again, but you think I always do the opposite of what you say?"
He was too fuzzy-headed to follow her lightning fast reasoning. He just liked lying here, watching the sparkle in her eyes and the way that perfect lower lip of hers quivered when she was mad. Like now.
A tiny smile told him her anger had evaporated. "So you do like my hair?"
"Dye it orange and I might have to lock you up," he admitted. When he saw the way her smile widened at his unthinking admission, he continued. "All I've been able to think about is the way those black curls would look against the white sheets on my bed."
Josie could barely remain standing after Mike's heated confession. Of course, two seconds after he made it, he closed his eyes again, drew in a deep, steadying breath, and fell back into a fever-deepened sleep. "Oh, Mr. Nice Guy, are you gonna regret saying that in the morning." If he remembered, which he might not.
But Josie definitely would. She had a feeling the husky whisper, the raw look of need and desire in his eyes as he'd spoken, would remain in her brain for many long, sleepless nights.
Since she really hated to leave him alone to possibly fall off the couch again, tonight looked as though it would be one of them.
"You could have at least passed out in your bedroom," she grumbled as she drew the sheet over his body to keep out the chill without overheating him. And to remove the temptation to peek at him some more.
Her hand trembled a bit as she remembered his comments about picturing her in his bed. She obviously wasn't the only one who'd been doing some fantasizing. How unexpected from the oh-so-polite deputy.
She'd only stay long enough to make sure the aspirin worked and his fever went down. Strictly nursing-back-to-health stuff. There would be no hunky-cop fantasy lust, even if she did have a slightly kinky-looking handcuff dangling off her wrist.
Still, as she sat on the carpeted floor, she couldn't help dropping her head back onto the sofa where he lay. Her hair brushed against his side. She shivered, thinking how easy it would be to turn and nibble on that perfect, golden skin. To kiss her way up his body. To slide onto him, curl into his arms and sleep there, safe in the belief that he probably wouldn't remember in the morning.
But Josie wasn't quite that wicked, she reminded herself as she dozed off.
Which made it really hard to understand, when she woke up a short time later, why she was lying on top of him.
Mike didn't know how he ended up back on the floor later that night. He didn't remember choosing to leave the sofa, and hadn't been jarred awake by falling again. He only knew he was stretched out on the carpet, and something deliciously soft was brushing against his chest. The contact almost made him shiver, but not from chills. From pleasure.
It was Josie's hair that touched him, her warm breath that sent awareness rushing through him. Whether he was dreaming or this was reality, he savored the sensation of being entwined with her as intimately as a longtime lover. Her head rested on his chest, her arm across his waist. One slim leg nestled between his thighs. He could no more resist touching her than a kid could resist nibbling on a forbidden piece of candy. If he was dreaming, well, he'd only be doing what he'd done so often in his deepest fantasies. And if this was real, if by some strange circumstance Josie had come into his apartment and curled up against his naked body, then that meant she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Unfortunately, if she was real, she had lousy timing. Because he couldn't make love to her — not the way he wanted to — when he was as weak as a kitten. He couldn't kiss her deeply, not without risking making her sick, too. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the hell out of having her here, where he'd fantasized about her for so long.
Even though he was a little out of it, and his body, warmer than normal, he just had to touch her, to stroke her shoulder, and toy with the strap of her top. "Josie," he whispered. When she didn't respond, he gently ran his fingers through her spiky curls. Then he leaned down to kiss her temple, to inhale the sweet flowery scent of her perfume. She moaned and rolled back, silently offering him the vulnerable flesh of her throat. He tasted her there, skimming his mouth across her collarbone. "If this is a dream, honey, I hope I don't wake up until I find out exactly where else you're pierced."
She sighed, not opening her eyes, then took his fingers in hers. "Here," she mumbled, guiding his hand down her body, across her flat stomach, to the bottom of her shirt.
He held his breath, wondering if she'd lead him even lower, beneath the waistband of her shorts. His heart tripped over a beat or two as pure anticipation coursed through him. He was dying to touch her, to slide his fingers into the hot, sweet place between her thighs, to stroke her and watch her come apart in his arms, since he couldn't do much more to satisfy her until he was sure he was recovered.
If he found she'd pierced that delicious part of her body with any damned piece of metal, he'd spank her. After he got his strength back. After he'd made love to her. And after he'd used his mouth there to make sure she had a memory of pleasure instead of pain.
Instead, she twisted, tugging at her shirt. He helped her, pulling the fabric up to bare her midriff.
"Ahh," he said with a smile. Relief washed through him when he saw the flash of gold on her stomach. She wore a tiny belly ring, as delicate and lovely as the body it adorned. Easing his arm out from under her, he moved down, his mouth following the same path his hand had taken, skimming over the pert breasts straining against the cotton. Then lower, until he had sampled the skin around her pierced navel. "Where else?" he asked as he kissed his way up her stomach, baring her inch by inch. "Tell me you didn't pierce something as perfect as your breasts."
She laughed throatily, and arched toward him, silently inviting him to find out for himself. A monk couldn't have refused that invitation, and Mike Kincaid definitely wasn't a monk. He pushed the material up and out of the way, then looked his fill at her delicate breasts, tipped with dark, puckered nipples. "Not pierced. Thank God." He lowered his mouth to taste her, feeling a shudder wrack her entire body as he touched the sensitive flesh with his tongue.
Josie moaned, pushing against him, wordlessly ordering him to roll onto his back in an age-old signal of feminine demand. She eased her top over her head, dropping it to the floor, then slid up onto his body to straddle him. He didn't know that he'd ever seen a more glorious sight than this…Josie leaning above him, her hair tousled, lips swollen and pouting, her breasts drawn taut, begging for attention.
All he needed to make his fantasy complete was that look of pure devilment she usually had in her eyes, and two words. I'm yours.
Unfortunately, her eyes were firmly closed. "We're not dreaming, are we?" he asked as he reached up to cup her breasts and stroke her belly. He played with the elastic waistband of her shorts, hissing as she wriggled against him, rubbing the hot center of her body over his raging erection. That part of him was definitely not weakened by the virus. He pushed up against her and was rewarded with her gasp.
Her eyes flew open. But instead of the words he most wanted to hear, she said, "What the hell is going on?"
Josie had been totally into the flow of her dream — the most intense ever — right up until the time she realized that powerful bulge between her legs was too hard, and too big, to be anything but real. Thrust into wakefulness, she instantly realized where she'd fallen asleep. Right beside a naked Mike Kincaid. Now, she was on top of a naked Mike Kincaid. Sans shirt. Grinding against him with an easy rhythm a lap dancer would envy. If not for the cotton barrier of her boxers, that wickedly luscious part of him would probably already be deep inside her.
Her first impulse was to howl at her own stupidity for having put on the boxers.
Of course, he looked more than ready to pull them off.
No. Absolutely not. She was not about to assuage her sexual need with a man who frowned on everything about her. No matter how perfectly delightful his strong, lean hips felt between her quivering thighs. No matter how often she'd dreamed about this happening over the past year.
"Are you conscious?" she snapped, using anger to dispel her erotic frenzy.
"I sure as hell hope so."
"Crap." She slid off him. "That was not supposed to happen."
"I'm not complaining."
"You should be. You're sick." She cast him a suspicious look, then nibbled her lip. "As a matter of fact, you're delirious. You're feverish." She studied him intently, trying to mesmerize him with a monotone voice that probably sounded nothing like the hypnotists' she'd seen on TV. "You're dreaming. None of this happened."
She held her breath, waiting to see if he'd go back to sleep.
He narrowed his eyes and grinned. "No way am I falling for that."
She reached over to touch his forehead, checking his temperature, feeling the heat of his skin. But his eyes were even hotter…because they were completely focused on her still-bare breasts. Snatching her hand away, she covered herself with her arm. "Perv."
"You're the one who took your shirt off." His smile broadened. "I definitely remember that part."
She winced. "You're very hot. This wasn't real. Besides, you won't remember I was even here in the morning." She didn't know who she was trying harder to convince — Mike or herself.
Reaching for her shirt, she felt around for it on the floor, the clink of the dangling handcuff the only sound other than her own nearly frantic breaths and the insanely out of synch pounding of her heart.
"There's one way to make sure I'll know this wasn't a dream when I wake up."
Because she was convinced he was weak and still half-asleep, Josie didn't anticipate his next move. It never occurred to her what he might do, not until she heard the clink of the other handcuff….
Which he'd attached to his own wrist.
Josie was trapped, firmly connected at the wrist to a gloriously aroused, mouthwatering man she wanted without reason.
Who fell back to sleep as soon as the click of the handcuffs had sealed her fate — she was stuck here, cuffed to a gorgeous, naked, helpless man.
In other circumstances, she could definitely see the possibilities here.
But not here. Not tonight. Not with him — Mr. Perfect! "If I could reach a weapon, I'd kill you, Deputy Kincaid."
Mike sighed, his eyes closed. He appeared peaceful, confident he'd ensured she couldn't escape during the night. No way could she pretend he'd had some feverish fantasy, not when he'd wake up in the morning and find her handcuffed to him. Topless!
Spying her shirt, she reached for it, tugging Mike's arm with her. She had to stretch to nab the cotton between her fingers. Unfortunately, she couldn't put it on, at least not properly. Not with one hand connected to the powerfully built, unmoving man beside her. Just looking at him, remembering the way he'd felt beneath her moments before, and she got hot and hungry all over again.
"Put your eyes away, Josie Marino," she whispered. "Check the lust at the door." She'd never make it through the long night ahead without climbing back on top of him if she didn't look away and think of something else. Pronto.
But, hell, a nun couldn't have prevented her stare from devouring him. He'd been breathtaking when naked and unconscious earlier. Now he was naked, unconscious…and aroused. Very aroused. She gulped, imagining that hard, powerful shaft buried inside her, touching her where she hadn't been touched in forever. Oh, no question, he could bring her to the heights of pleasure with his strong hands, his sultry mouth, and his big, pulsing…
"Don't," she snarled. Josie tightened her legs together as another flood of moisture dampened her thin cotton boxers. "You bastard, not only did you handcuff yourself to me, you got me so wet I'm almost sticking to the floor."
Though he slept on, she almost thought she saw the shadow of a grin curl those sexy, soft lips of his. His lips were the only soft thing about the man. Which reminded her…
Her eyes shifted lower again and she quivered. Nothing had changed. "Buddy, you must always have to lie on your back if this is how you sleep at night. Talk about a built-in kickstand. God, no wonder I've been drooling for you for a year, even though you're so disgustingly normal, nice and conservative, and the most unlikely guy for me to be attracted to!"
Enough! Lusting after a sick, helpless, delirious man. Josie Marino had hit rock-bottom.
She turned her attention back to her predicament — how to cover herself. Bending down, she began to maneuver her shirt over her feet. Every move was inhibited by the unyielding pull of her cuffed hand. She worked the fabric up her body while doing a writhing shimmy on the floor. When she got the thing as high as her hips, it stuck on her briefs. But with a jerk and a yank, she finally got it over her breasts. She even managed to slip her free arm beneath a strap. There was no way to get into the other one, so she kept her arm down, holding it in place. The top had been stretched out while traveling over her hips and butt, and it sagged a little, partially exposing the curve of her left breast. No, it wasn't a big curve, by any means — not that Mike had seemed to mind.
Don't even go there!
Still, whether he liked her body or not, she didn't even want to imagine Mike opening his eyes in the morning and being greeted by her peekaboo nipple. He'd gotten quite enough of a show from her when she'd climbed onto that kitchen table masquerading as his chest. No way was she going to give him another one.
Thank heaven he'd been sleeping so soundly for the past several minutes.
Mike had watched Josie's entire performance through half-lowered lashes. Damn, she was adorable. Funny and sexy. Sassy and seductive. He'd nearly given up his pretense at sleep when she'd made the wet comment…. Every ounce of blood not already throbbing in his groin had rushed south at that one.
Watching her clothe herself had been torture. Because while his mind…not to mention his penis…were screaming yes, the rest of his body was a few paces behind. He couldn't kiss her, not without exposing her to his virus. And he didn't want to make love to her without being able to kiss her senseless. Especially since her sultry, full-lipped smile had been the first thing to steal his breath — and part of his heart — when they'd met.
He'd waited too long for this, tried too many times to break through the barrier she'd erected between them. He was not about to louse things up now, when he finally had a chance to make her look at him…Mike Kincaid, the man…not Deputy Kincaid, whom she loved to goad.
It didn't take a genius to see Josie's disdain of convention. Her clothes, her hair, her attitude, even the name of her business…Nail Me. The woman liked being outrageous and wouldn't let herself fall for someone too ordinary.
Someone like him. A guy who still lived near where he'd grown up, who'd only moved away for his last two years of college — having commuted the first two.
What Josie hadn't realized yet — couldn't have realized, since she'd never given him a chance to prove her wrong — was that though Mike had returned to this small, old place, he didn't have small, old dreams. He didn't have small, old conventions.
He lived here. But this town didn't define his existence.
Contrary to what Josie would probably believe, he loved her wicked sense of humor. He enjoyed listening to her head-banging music rattling the walls. He read thought-provoking modern fiction. He wanted to travel to wild locations, to experience all the fantastic, dangerous adventures he could. To indulge his deepest fantasies.
With her.
So he still wanted the connection to a place — this place. That didn't mean he couldn't see the value in exploring all the other places the world had to offer. And he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather do that exploring with than Josie Marino.
She thought him a conservative, nice, good old boy…the kind of man she could never get involved with. In the morning, when he was strong, healthy, and more alert, he planned to show her just how wrong she was.
During the night, when Josie realized she was curling up against Mike in her sleep, she climbed over him and got on the couch. She ignored the niceness of his skin against her legs, and ruthlessly tugged at his arm, making him cross it over his chest so she could get comfortable. He deserved the discomfort, not her!
But no sooner had she closed her eyes than she realized how warm his body had felt as she'd slipped over it. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was after two. Several hours since the aspirin. She sighed, yanking her purse off the table behind her head. As she did so, something came flying out and hurled across the room.
"Oh, no." It was the aspirin bottle. And it now lay somewhere in the darkened hallway of the apartment.
Leaning down to test Mike's forehead, she knew he needed to take something. But she couldn't escape him to retrieve the aspirin, and he didn't look ready to wake up.
An idea struck. Digging in her purse, she found what she was looking for — another bottle. Reading the label in the shadowy light, she figured it would work. She leaned over, nudging Mike. "You're hot again. Take these." He'd probably have a cow when he found out what kind of medicine she'd given him, but there was no help for it.
He barely opened his eyes as she slid two pills between his lips, brought the glass up and helped him sip. Then he fell back asleep.
Josie wasn't so lucky. Though it would be hours until morning, she couldn't stop picturing those laughing brown eyes of his when he triumphantly made her admit what had happened between them during the night. She was in no way ready to have that conversation. Because that could lead to a lot of questions she wasn't prepared to answer. Questions like how she felt about him, how attracted she was to him. Had she been dreaming of being in his arms for almost a year….
No. She needed her defenses up, needed to be alert and ready to talk her way out of this one. She also needed to come up with a distraction — something to divert his attention when he woke.
As she leaned over to put her purse back on the table, something else fell out in her lap. A wicked grin crossed her lips. Yes, there was definitely something she could do to distract him, kill some time, and get a little payback for the handcuffs.
She just hoped he wouldn't kill her when he saw what she'd done to him while he slept.
Mike awoke to a bright morning. His skin was warmed by sunlight, not blistered by fever. For the first time in hours, he felt normal. Then he tried to move his hand, to push his sleep-rumpled hair out of his eyes…and couldn't.
"What the hell?" He glanced down and spied the silly handcuff. A slow smile crossed his lips. Not a dream. Just to make sure, he shifted his gaze to the other hand caught in the cuff. Pale, slim, fragile…her fingers were inches from his, her nails brushing the hair on his chest. The contact was electric.
He continued to stare, looking at the delicately boned wrist, the long, feminine arm, the curved shoulder. Then at the beautiful, bare breast, with a sweet, dark nipple he felt pretty damn sure he'd been licking a few hours ago.
"It really happened," he whispered.
Josie shifted on the couch, sound asleep, unaware her top had betrayed her and gapped away. He watched her face, noted the length of those thick, black lashes resting on her creamy cheeks. The way her full lips parted as she breathed. She looked beautiful. Enticing. And, most important, approachable, without the attitude she usually copped around him. He wanted to keep her that way.
He glanced at a clock. "After nine." Thankfully, today was his regular day off. Though slightly weak from hunger, he felt more than up to dealing with the challenge of the day: seducing Josie.
First things first — a shower. Difficult, since they were hooked together, but even that could lend itself to seduction. He just had to convince her he couldn't unhook the flimsy handcuffs, which would break with one good yank.
Before closing his eyes again, Mike caught sight of a flash of color from the vicinity of his feet. Blinking, he wondered if he was still feverish. When he saw the nail polish bottle on an end table, he knew he wasn't.
"She painted my toenails," he muttered. Not just painted them, she'd spotlighted them in a raucous pink that would have looked garish on a showgirl.
He swallowed a laugh, knowing she hadn't intended to amuse him. No, she'd probably meant to punish him or, more likely, distract him from confronting her about what had happened between them.
He could deal with that. He didn't need to confront her about what had happened…he merely needed to seduce her into letting it happen again.
Josie woke quickly. She opened her eyes and sat up. Feeling cool air on her naked breast, she said a quick, silent thanks that Mike was still asleep. Clutching at her top, she reached out to feel his forehead. He felt normal and looked better.
At some point during the night, he'd pulled the sheet up to cover his body, so she wasn't able to check him out all over in the bright light of day. Rats.
"Hey, Josie?" he mumbled, opening his eyes. "You're really here?"
She nibbled her lip and nodded.
"Man, I was out of it," he continued. "I didn't know if I'd dreamed you or not.""I came over to ask you for help and found you in pretty bad shape."
"And you stayed to take care of me? I appreciate it." He tried to move, and immediately noticed the handcuffs. "Uh, do I want to know how we ended up like this?"
He doesn't remember. Relief washed over her. It was just as quickly replaced by regret that Mike really wasn't going to remember their encounter. She had a feeling she'd be thinking about it for months. "I won them, and one got stuck on my wrist. That's why I came over, to see if you could help me get it off."
Sitting up, he glanced at his own wrist and raised a questioning brow. Josie tried to keep her attention focused on Mike's face, not on the miles of bare chest and stomach exposed when the sheet had fallen to his lap. And definitely not to the bulges and bumps under that sheet. On that lap.
"I think you were sort of delirious and for some reason hooked yourself to me."
"Gee, I'm so sorry." He sounded genuinely remorseful. "I put you out, keeping you here all night. I hope I didn't say or do anything to offend you."
Drat, he was being so nice, so considerate and apologetic. She was really having some serious regrets about painting his toenails while he slept. Thankfully, because of the sheet, he hadn't yet noticed.
"I feel fine now, though. Thankfully it's a quick virus, with just fever and fatigue. The fever was the worst. Did you get me aspirin? I thought I ran out."
She nodded, lowering her lashes. "About the aspirin…"
"Yes?"
"You did run out, so I went to get my purse." She jingled the cuffs, "Before this. But, during the night, the bottle went flying across the room." She jingled the cuffs again. "After this."
"Oh?"
"So I had to improvise when your fever spiked again. I'm sure it's fine. I read the label — the only active ingredient is acetaminophen." He raised a curious brow, still relaxed and calm. She rushed on. "I gave you Midol."
His brown eyes widened and flashed. She steeled himself for him to blow his stack. She knew the medicine wouldn't hurt him, for heaven's sake, but a man probably wouldn't see it that way.
"I see," he finally murmured. "Well, I guess it worked. Thank you, Josie." His voice was reasonable, if a little gruff. But his glorious, broad shoulders remained stiff.
Okay, now was definitely not the time to mention the nail polish. "So, do you think you might have a spare key around to get us out of these things?"
His brow furrowed. "I don't think I have a key that would work."
She sighed.
"But I can come up with something. I might have to track down the right tool. It'll have to be stiff enough, and just the right size to fit inside that tight little opening. It might take some lubrication."
If he wasn't looking so adorably boyish and innocent, she'd have thought there was some serious sexual innuendo in his comment. That, of course, was where Josie's thoughts had wandered. Gutter mind.
Mike was too nice, too small-town, too open and friendly to be playing sexual word games like a smooth stud. Mike didn't have to seduce women — he was in the crosshairs of a lot of the single females of Pleasantville. They wooed him with homemade cakes or tried to trap him with bogus calls about kitties up trees. But, to her knowledge, he had never been called a lothario. He didn't need to be one when women fell at his feet all over the place. She frowned, suddenly not feeling so bad about the nail polish.
"I am pretty sure I have something that would work in the tool kit in the trunk of my squad car," he continued, oblivious to her naughty imaginings. "Look, I know you've already really been put out, taking care of me and all, but do you think…would you mind if I took a quick shower before we go try to find it?"
He sounded so endearing, looking sheepish and embarrassed at having to ask for the favor — when she'd been the one who'd climbed on top of the sick, helpless man during the night! "Of course, that's fine."
He smiled. "Might be a little awkward."
She followed his pointed stare at the cuffs and gulped. "Uh, if you want to wrap up in the sheet, we can go to the bathroom together. I could, uh, just…stand outside the shower with my arm extended."
Oh, God, please no, please don't make me have to have my hand inches from his beautiful, bare skin while he runs soap all over his body, making himself slippery and wet and clean and delicious.
"That'd be great."
Penance. She was doing penance for trying to take advantage of him in his moment of weakness.
She didn't even want to fathom what erotic torture awaited her in Mike's shower.
Normally, a naked man and a shower would have sounded delightful to Josie Marino. Throw in a pair of handcuffs for a bit of kink factor and she'd be one happy — satisfied — woman. But this wasn't a normal situation. She was handcuffed to a man who drove her dizzy with pure desire, but one she'd already decided was so not her type. A responsible, respectable, nice guy who would never be interested in a relationship with someone like her. He was sexy as hell, yes. But he was safe. Gentle. Predictable. They were polar opposites.
Of course, that didn't mean she didn't want him like crazy. This shower was going to be agony. She just prayed he'd keep every inch of his masculine skin away from her hungry, helpless fingers.
Mike's bathroom wasn't very large, so Josie was able to stand outside in the hall to give him a few minutes of privacy. After he'd brushed his teeth, he stuck his head out. "I'm sorry, I can't even reach the faucet for the shower with you out here."
She followed him into the bathroom, looking everywhere but at the white towel draping his hips. The sheet he'd wrapped around himself for the short walk down the hall was crumpled in a corner. She preferred the sheet. It covered more.
"I wish I'd cuffed my other hand to you," Mike said with an innocent smile. "It'll be awkward to wash left-handed."
Josie came within an inch of offering to help. But any woman who'd offer to do that might as well offer to stake herself out, spread-eagle, naked on a man's bed. It'd be less dangerous and less sensual than sliding her hand over Mike Kincaid's wet, firm body.
He kept the towel on while he turned on the water, and while he stepped into the tub. After he'd drawn the curtain, the towel appeared on top of the rod. She gulped.
"Mmm, this feels really good. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it, Josie."
She closed her eyes, trying to focus on anything but the sound of the sizzling jets of water striking that luscious male flesh.
"I was pretty tense. All bunched up and hard."
God save me.
"Even my feet were aching."
His feet. He was going to be washing his feet at some point. No way would he miss seeing the polish. Thinking frantically, she smacked at the light switch on the wall.
Mike's head popped out from behind the curtain.
"Bulb must have blown," she explained weakly.
He shrugged. "It's okay, I can see with the light coming from the hall." He gave her a sheepish look. "Though, I can't really wash my hair one-handed. Do you mind?"
She felt a pull on the handcuff and stepped closer. Then closer still, until she stood toe to toe with the edge of the tub. When he moved his hands up to lather his hair, still hidden behind the mostly drawn shower curtain, her fingers brushed against the rough, unshaven stubble on his cheek. She couldn't prevent herself from lightly rubbing his earlobe, caressing a bit of skin on his neck.
At his low, throaty moan, she froze, certain he'd realized she was sneakily caressing him. Then he said, "God it feels good to be clean, to wash off the sweat."
Nope. He hadn't noticed. He also apparently hadn't noticed that he'd finished shampooing his hair, and could probably complete his shower left-handed. She almost reminded him…almost. But when she felt him pulling her hand down, so he could run a soapy washcloth over his chest, his shoulders, his thick biceps, she remained silent.
With every touch of his hand on his own body, hers touched, too. His skin was slick, wet, making her think of other slick, wet things. Like the hollow place between her legs that ached for him to touch her the way he was touching himself. Thoroughly. Carefully. Deliberately.
Her legs began to shake. The smell of the soap filled her nostrils. Her eyes had adjusted to the low lighting so she could easily make out his broad silhouette through the curtain. The sizzling hiss of the water drowned out every other sound except her own deepening breaths.
Josie moaned, wondering how much more of this sensual torture she could take. God, did the man have absolutely no idea how erotic this was? Was he really such a nice, trusting guy that he didn't know he was currently the object of every lustful fantasy his wicked landlady had ever envisioned? If she did what she was dying to do…slide her hand down and help him wash that big, thick shaft she'd drooled over last night…how would he react?
She couldn't be so bold…not with him, Mr. Polite. But she did give herself over to sensation, letting herself touch him, imagine him touching her in return. The soap and water eliminated friction, leaving only the pleasure of touch.
Josie was so completely caught up in her senses that she didn't even notice he was opening the curtain until he'd pushed it all the way aside. Before she could say a word, he'd reached out, picked her up around the waist, and lifted her into the tub with him.
"What do you think you're doing?" she sputtered as warm water cascaded over her, saturating her hair, her face, her skimpy clothes. He cast one hot, masculine stare down her body, pausing to watch as the thin cotton tank top grew wet and stuck to her breasts. It clung to nipples that got noticeably harder under his gaze. Then he looked lower, to the loose boxers, already dripping, sticking to her thighs and the shadowy place between them.
"I've just been trying to decide something, Josie," he replied evenly, not revealing a thing about his intentions.
She was almost afraid to ask. "What?"
"Well, you turned out the light on purpose not caring if I fell and cracked my skull open in the shower." His eyes narrowed. "You painted my toenails aging-whore pink." He shook his head, tsking. "You gave me period medicine when I was half-dead." Then his voice grew throaty and thick. A slight smile, as if of reminiscence, crossed his lips. "You whipped off your shirt, climbed on top of me and practically begged me to suck on those perfect little breasts of yours." His gaze strayed briefly downward before he finally murmured, "Now you're copping feels while I'm taking a shower."
She couldn't speak. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widening in shock as she realized he'd known exactly what she'd done. He remembered everything. He knew all.
And oh, my God, he definitely hadn't been polite in letting her know it. Her pulse sped up, excitement ratcheting through her at the dangerously confident tone in his voice.
"So, you see," he continued in a smooth, sultry purr, "I'm just a bit confused over what I'm going to do first."
"First?" she asked breathlessly, almost not recognizing this sultry, provocative man who still held her firmly around the waist.
"Yeah, Josie. I don't know whether to start by spanking your pretty bottom…or proceed directly to taking you now, right up against the wall."
As the shock in Josie's eyes gave way to pure, raw excitement, Mike let a smile cross his lips. He had her. She wanted him…wanted them…as much as he did. He should have realized long ago that politeness, asking, would never work with Josie Marino. He'd been playing the gentleman. Turns out she wanted the man…no gentle about it.
"Hmm," Josie replied to his taunting suggestion that he either spank her or take her. "Considering you've been sick, I doubt you've got the strength for either one."
He lifted her by the waist and held her against the tiled wall of the shower, leaning close to nip at her neck. Grinding into her, he let her feel how strong he was, how ready to make good on his threat. She whimpered, pressing back against him just as hungrily.
"Whatever you decide," she whispered, "kiss me first. Okay?"
He didn't need to be asked twice; kissing Josie was exactly what he'd been dying to do for hours. He slipped his hand up to cup her head, tangling his fingers in her wet hair, tugging her face to his until their lips were a breath apart. But before they met, he growled, "Don't think this gets you off the hook for the spanking."
She giggled, then slid one arm around his neck, tugging him close.
Kissing Josie was everything he'd ever thought it would be. Sweet, wet, hot. She parted her lips, letting her tongue mate with his as he pulled the strap of her tank top off her shoulder.
"Let me." She wriggled out of the top, and her boxers, kicking them out of the way until she stood nude in front of him. Her body was as perfect, delicately boned, pale, and inviting as he'd imagined it would be.
"Touch me, Mike," she moaned as he moved his mouth to her throat, inhaling deeply to imprint her scent on his brain.
"Where?" he growled as he nibbled a path along her collarbone.
"Touch me where I'm wet."
He smiled, and began running his hands all over her…her shoulders, her arms, her fingertips.
"No."
"You're wet everywhere, babe."
To prove his point, he followed a droplet of water as it descended down her shoulder, over her breast, until it clung to her nipple. Unable to resist, he lowered his mouth to her and sucked deeply, holding her hips as she bucked in response.
"I've been waiting for this for so long," he mumbled against her body as he bent down, finally dropping to his knees to kiss her stomach, nibbling on the tiny gold earring. Then, finally, he dipped to taste the secret flesh hidden behind the lovely dark curls between her legs.
She quivered, then groaned. "So have I," she admitted. "Don't make me wait any longer to have you inside me."
As much as he loved the taste of her, Mike couldn't wait to make her his. Grabbing the condom he'd removed from the medicine cabinet earlier, he tore it open with his teeth. He hung on to his last remnants of control as she helped him put it on.
Then she lifted her leg, slid it around his wet hips, tilting back and offering herself to him. Bracing her against the wall, he slid into her with one long, slow thrust.
And felt as if he'd finally found his permanent home.
Mike didn't think he'd ever enjoyed a shower more. Or a nap. Or a breakfast. They spent the day making love, eating, sleeping, making love again…all while handcuffed together. Josie had no appointments that day, so she wasn't bothered about not opening her shop for the day.
Late in the afternoon, though, they realized they were both starving and neither had much food. "Maybe we could go to the Rose Café for a bite?" she suggested.
He raised a brow. "Think anybody'd notice the cuffs?"
"Yeah, I guess we ought to try to open these first," she admitted. She looked down, not meeting his eyes.
Mike sensed her pulling away, and nearly kicked himself for bringing up the outside world. "We can stay connected and feed each other at the café." He nuzzled her neck, trying to tease her back into her former good mood.
She shook her head and sighed. "I don't imagine you'd want Sheriff Taggart hearing one of his deputies was walking around town, handcuffed to a woman he hadn't arrested."
Mike suddenly understood why she'd grown cool. She didn't think he'd do it. In spite of everything they'd shared today — all the wild, erotic ways he'd shown her he wasn't the conservative, nice guy she'd thought he was — she still didn't believe he would walk out the door, in public, handcuffed to her. She thought he could be one man in the privacy of his home, but wouldn't show that face to the rest of the world.
He hid a smile. She was so adorably easy to disconcert. And he couldn't wait to once again show her how much she'd underestimated him.
Though he tried with various tools and spare keys, Mike couldn't get the cuffs open.
"Look," Josie said, "why don't I call Kate Jones, one of the owners of Bare Essentials, and ask her if she has another set. They probably all have the same key."
He lounged on the couch, wearing only a pair of shorts, while she called Kate. After carefully explaining her predicament, she suffered through Kate's long, low laugh. "So do you think you can get us another key?"
"Meet me at the store in a half hour," the woman said, still chuckling. "Can I admit I hope you run into lots of people on Magnolia Avenue, so the gossips will have someone else to talk about, other than the Tremaines, for a change?"
Knowing Kate and her family had long been a source of scandal for the town of Pleasantville, Josie didn't take offense. "Kate, you get me a key that works and I swear, I'll even teach you how to cheat at Bunko."
Kate, who had experienced her first raucous Bunko night with some of Josie's friends the week before, instantly agreed. "See you in an hour."
He was absolutely completely crazy about her. He didn't plan to let her go until she'd admitted she felt the same way.
They helped each other dress before going out, deciding the easiest course was to rip one sleeve of a tank top for her, and a muscle T-shirt for him. Then they re-pinned them. Josie draped a jacket over their wrists, then held his hand while they walked down the stairs and out onto the street. A few passing people nodded. No one noticed anything out of the ordinary.
When they reached the new store, Bare Essentials, Mike saw a stunning, petite brunette waiting in the doorway. She greeted Josie with a hug and stared at the jacket over their hands, her eyes twinkling in amusement. "I'm Kate. You must be Mike," she said. "I never realized those cuffs were so strong, Deputy."
He smiled, knowing she knew damn well he could have gotten them out of the things anytime he wanted to. But she didn't tell Josie.
"Did you find a key?" Mike asked.
Kate looked back and forth between them, as if contemplating her answer. Finally, when Josie said, "Oh, please say you did," the woman nodded.
She held the small key out and put it in Josie's hand. "I have a bunch of handcuffs, but only one of the brand you got. This key should work — but it's the last one. So don't lose it, whatever you do. Have fun, kids." She winked before walking into her shop.
Josie glanced at him through partially lowered lashes. "Okay, we're set. We can do this right here, if you want."
"Let me have the key," he said.
When she pressed it into his hand, he leaned close to nibble her earlobe. She flinched, as if shocked he'd make such a public display of affection but he heard her tiny sigh and knew she still wanted him. Badly. "Josie?"
"Yes?"
"You're not getting rid of me that easily."
Not even pausing, he flung the key several feet away, toward the street, and nodded with satisfaction as it pinged right down into an open storm drain.
Josie couldn't believe Mike had thrown away the key, ensuring they were going to remain stuck together. "Are you crazy?"
"Crazy about you."
She ignored him. "Didn't you hear what Kate said? That was the last key!"
"Yep. Still hungry? Let's go to the café."
What was the man thinking? He'd thrown away his chance to separate them, to keep from humiliating himself in public by being seen chained to the wild chick who owned the scandalous nail salon. Conservative, nice guy Mike Kincaid should have leaped at the opportunity — not tossed it away! "You're still feverish."
"I'm definitely on fire." He pressed his body against hers. "For you."
He didn't seem to care that all around them people passed on the sidewalk or drove by in their cars. Jerking his arm, he intentionally dropped the jacket to the ground. Then, entwining his fingers with hers, he backed her up against a light pole, twisting her arm behind her back so he could pull her closer to him.
"You've lost your mind."
"No. Just my heart."
"I see the sheriff across the street."
"Did you hear what I said?"
She'd heard. She just wasn't listening. Because the nice, conservative, well-loved Deputy Mike Kincaids of the world didn't go crazy over the smart-aleck, pierced, wild child Josie Marinos. "It's fever. Sickness," she said desperately.
He shook his head, pressing a kiss to her temple, then her cheekbone, then lower, until he brushed his lips against hers. "I want you so much," he whispered, pressing against her hard enough to make her quiver at the feel of his big, strong body.
She went liquid and weak, aching for him again though she'd left his bed only an hour before. "Okay, it's lust. That's why you were so…different…when we were at your apartment. But this is the real world!"
"Lust, yeah. Definitely lust." He grinned wickedly. "But lust isn't what makes me like you so much. Lust isn't why I sometimes sit in my apartment, listening to you move around in yours, wondering if you're okay, if you're reading, if you're smiling. It doesn't make me want to watch you sleep, want to hear you laugh, want to make you happy."
She nibbled her lip.
He lowered his voice. "Lust didn't make me throw away the key. It's not what's making me determined to keep you connected to me until you see what I've seen for a long time…that we're a perfect match."
"We're too different," she whispered. "I'm a guttersnipe."
He raised a brow. "Guttersnipe? What the hell's that?"
"And you're so…respectable," she muttered.
He rolled his eyes and muttered an obscenity. Then he hauled her onto her toes and caught her mouth in the hottest, wettest kiss she'd ever experienced. Right there on a public street in broad daylight. When he finally pulled away, he looked over her shoulder and nodded to someone.
"'Afternoon, ladies," he said pleasantly.
She heard giggles but didn't turn around.
"I might be an even-tempered man, Josie. That doesn't mean I don't want to spend the next fifty years doing every wild, outrageous thing you can dream up for us to try."
"Fifty years?"
"At least. I love you. I know you aren't ready to hear it, but I do. I've loved you since you threatened to neuter me if I ever made another Josie and the Pussycats joke."
She began to believe, began to accept. "Oh, hell, Mike, you big, nice jerk," she finally replied, almost wailing as she acknowledged the truth, "I think I love you, too!"
Mike was able to eat some fries with his left hand, but Josie had to help him with his burger. They laughed throughout their entire scandalous meal at the Rose Café. Plenty of people hailed Mike but stammered and stared when they saw the handcuffs.
He seemed to enjoy the notoriety. "What can I say, Tag?" he asked Sheriff Sean Taggart — his boss — who stopped at their table to say hello. "She's relentless. Locked me up and threw away the key, wouldn't let me go until she had her wicked way with me."
Josie sunk down in her seat, but couldn't go far since her arm was stretched across the table, attached to Mike's.
"Let me guess." Sheriff Taggart raised a brow. "You got the cuffs at the new store in town?"
Nodding, Josie remembered the rumors about the handsome young sheriff and Kate's cousin, Cassie Tremaine Montgomery.
Tag shook his head as he turned away. "Why am I not surprised?"
After they finished eating, Mike led her outside. "Tell me about this store your friend owns. They actually sell things like these cuffs?"
She smiled. "Oh, they sell a lot of things." Then she sighed. "But they're not open yet.
Heat flashed in his eyes. "You think Kate might let us do a little preopening shopping? As repayment for the key trouble?"
"I think that's an excellent idea!"
They walked into the front door of the store, immediately spying Cassie sitting on the floor folding lacy underpants. Mike seemed no more affected by the beautiful blonde than he had been by Kate, her dark-haired cousin.
But he did like the thong panties. She heard him murmur his approval as he shot her an intimate glance. Josie's heart skipped a beat as she pictured modeling something provocative for him.
If they ever got uncuffed, of course.
"Cassie, I'm sorry — I know you're not open, but the item in my goody bag was defective. I think you ought to let me pick out something else," Josie said with a mischievous grin.
"Are you telling me none of those gift bags turned out?" Cassie replied.
Josie cast a look at Mike, whose hand lay possessively on her hip. "I never said that."
Then she noticed Cassie had not been alone in the store. Daisy Arnett was also doing some preopening bargain hunting. A handsome guy stood beside her, looking besotted.
"I never said that either," Daisy said.
Hmm…sounded as though they'd both been pleasantly surprised by how much they'd liked their gifts. Josie suddenly remembered the creamy lace panties and bra that had been in Daisy's bag. And pictured Mike pulling them off of her….
With his teeth.
"Well, then, what are you saying?" Cassie asked.
Daisy told Cassie she wanted another goody bag…one she'd be willing to pay for. Judging by the look in her boyfriend's eyes, he looked ready to haul out his gold card and get her any damn thing she pleased. Considering Mike's wide-eyed stare at the sultry, sexual products surrounding them in the store, Josie had a feeling he was ready to do the same thing.
She gulped. "Me, too. I want to buy something else, too."
"Well, speak up," Cassie said. "I'm busy. What is it you want?"
Hmm…sex toys? Erotic videos? Motion lotion, appliances, crotchless tights, or, God, wouldn't she love whatever Kate Jones had been wearing under her dress at the mayor's reception Saturday night, when rumor had it she'd practically had an orgasm in the middle of a crowd of people?
Unfortunately, Kate had told the ladies at the party that that particular item wasn't ready for distribution. Josie had put her name on a waiting list.
Finally, she met Daisy's eye and saw the satisfaction in the other woman's face. "Your lingerie seems to have done wonders for you." She lifted her wrist, bringing Mike's hand up with hers. "And trust me on this. These worked wonders, too." Mike squeezed her fingers, then brought her hand up to his mouth to press a soft kiss on it.
Josie grinned.
So did Daisy.
"I'll take what she got," they both said in unison.
Cassie chuckled, looking pleased at having played matchmaker, even if unintentionally.
"I'll just take you," Mike whispered in Josie's ear while the other couple took some handcuffs from the store owner and walked out.
"Take me where? Shopping? To bed? To a locksmith?"
"Anywhere you want to go, Josie. Any way you want to get there."
Leaning up to gently kiss his lips, she smiled, then giggled. "Okay…how about to Tibet. With monks and yaks. Or is it llamas? Or to the desert…on a motorcycle. Or naked hang-gliding…or…"
He ignored her rambling, tangled his fingers in her short, spiky hair and pulled her close for another of those mind-numbing, leg-weakening kisses. When he finally pulled away to let her draw in a deep, shaky breath, he said. "How about home?"
Josie nodded and melted into him. "Home sounds darn near perfect."
He eyed a wicked-looking red lace teddy. "And Josie?"
"Yes?"
He grinned and shook the handcuffs. "You can just forget about any locksmith."
The End