Jill Shalvis - Serving Up Trouble

Then she smiled. A stunner. His heart actually stopped, because in that gaze wasn’t simply lust. No, nothing as simple as lust. There were all sorts of terrifying things: arousal, relief, joy, affection.

And love.

He couldn’t miss it. It was blaring at him, waiting for him to acknowledge it.

But he didn’t believe in a happy-ever-after. He didn’t believe in love. And wasn’t sure he ever would. “Angie-”

She blinked, and the emotions that had so rocked his world vanished in that one flash of time, replaced by…

Nothing.

She pulled back from him, slid out of the bed and bent for her clothes. “Look at the time.” She turned to him, covering her lovely body by holding her dress in front of it. “Can I use your bathroom?” she asked politely.

“Of course, but-damn it,” he said to no one when she disappeared into his bathroom. He got out of bed, swore again when his numb legs quivered like a newborn baby, and went to the bathroom door.

Locked.

He knocked. “Angie?”

For an answer, the shower came on.

“Angie…open up.” Nothing. “I guess you figured out I’m lousy at morning afters.”

He imagined her soaping up, which did little for his very in sis tent morning hard-on. “Angie?” He knocked again. “I’m sorry, okay? Now let me in.”

Steam began to come from under the door. He figured she was running her hands over her entire body now.

Which should have been his pleasure this morning, thank you very much. But he was too stupid to have finagled that, wasn’t he. He put his forehead to the wood. “Look, I just had a moment of panic when I woke up and there you were, and-” And given the silence he wasn’t doing this right.

The water turned off.

The door opened. She stood there wearing nothing but his towel wrapped around her delectable body. Lush, wet curves plumped out of the top of the towel while her tanned, toned thighs showed out the bottom. The towel was a tad too big for him to see anything else.

She put her hand to his chin and lifted his gaze so it met hers. “Is your moment of panic gone now?”

He opened his mouth, but he’d never lied in his life and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.

“I see,” she said quietly, and walked past him. Halfway to the bed, she dropped the towel.

His tongue nearly fell out of his mouth as she bent for her panties. “It’s…somewhat gone,” he managed to croak out.

“Somewhat isn’t good enough.” She stepped into her dress and pulled it up the length of her body, then started on the long row of buttons.

“I know a way that would greatly help,” he said, and when she turned to look him over, he realized he was standing there bare-ass naked.

She cocked her head and, while she smiled, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Tempting, but…” She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t intend to push myself on you. Will you take me to work, please?”

Push herself on him? Hell, he was willing to beg. “Work isn’t a good idea, not until we get a hold of this guy.”

She tossed back her wet hair and put her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do, take me around with you all day long?”

Terrifying how tempting that sounded. “No, but you don’t have to go out in public and be a target. We’re going to get him, probably today.”

“You’re that close?”

“We’re that close.”

“I’m going to work, Sam. I’ll be fine there.” She slipped into her sandals. Used the towel that had been covering her body to dry her hair. Pulled up the blankets they’d tossed aside in their heated passion.

All without looking at him. He looked at her though, plenty. She smelled like his soap, his shampoo. And though she was entirely covered, he ached for her to be warm and naked and plastered against him, as she had been all night long.

But she was upset, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that was his fault. So he shoved his legs into his discarded jeans, wincing as he fastened them over his erection, and went to her.

“I’ve got to go,” she said, resisting, but he turned her to face him.

“You’re angry.”

“Frustrated.” She finally looked at him, her eyes filled with some thing that made him swallow hard. “And I just realized I’m never going to reach you, not the way I want to.”

Regret was a two-fisted punch. “Angie-”

“Yeah, I know. Take me to work, Sam. I think we both need the space.”

Space was exactly what he needed. Actually, he had no idea what he needed anymore.

Sam pulled up in front of the café and turned to Angie, looking like he needed coffee in the worst way.

Angie released her seat belt, reached for the door handle, then sighed and sat back.

She couldn’t leave like this. He was miserable. She was miserable. All that misery radiated through out the truck.

Worse, it wasn’t his fault. He’d given her everything he could. She knew that.

She just wanted more.

Not fair to him, not fair at all. She’d known the rules when she’d made love with him. She’d gone into it with her eyes wide open.

And she would not hurt him simply because he couldn’t be what she wanted.

“Promise you’ll wait for me to pick you up after your shift,” he said. “That you won’t even think about going back to your apartment without me.”

“Sam-”

“Promise me, Angie.”

She stared up into his tense face. He hadn’t taken the time to shave, and the stubble on his jaw added to his edgy, dangerous expression. The black jeans and black T-shirt only lent credence to the fact.

But he didn’t scare her. He never could. Nor could she resist him, it seemed. With another sigh, she leaned in and put her mouth to the bunched muscle on his jaw.

From deep in his throat came a low, rough sound. A helpless sound.

And her heart squeezed. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to be touched by her, but he was. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was. “Angie, promise me.”

She replaced her mouth with her hands, cupping his face as she pulled back far enough to meet his gaze. “I promise to let you be my hero.”

“I mean it.”

So tough. Trying to be so distant. But his eyes gave him away. “I mean it, too.”

He stared at her for a long moment, as if assessing her for honesty.

She kissed him again, on the lips this time, very softly, very gently. “Have a good day.”

He groaned and set his forehead to hers. “Damn it, I want to be mad at you. Don’t ruin it for me.”

She slid her arms around him and hugged him close. “I won’t.”

He groaned again, but his arms came around her, too, warm and sure and strong. He slid his jaw against hers. “I want you to be safe. Do you understand that? God, you’re really driving me crazy.”

“I know.” She sank her fingers into his hair and lifted her face to see his. “I don’t mean to. I love you, Sam.” Gently she put her fingers to his lips, before he could react. “I just wanted you to know.” Kissing him one last time, she grabbed her purse and left the truck.

Heart pounding, palms damp with sweat, Sam watched Angie walk away from him toward the café.

Say some thing to her.

Anything.

But he didn’t, and she vanished inside without a glance back.

She loved him. Just like that. She loved him.

And she’d said it so…sweetly. So damn easily. So genuinely his heart clenched again, even tighter.

He nearly ran a red light. Twice. Cars honked at him. Lifting an apologetic hand and feeling like an idiot, he told himself to get a grip. He was a cop. He had important things to think about.

But nothing came to mind. Nothing at all.

Because nothing was more important than this, than her, and he knew it.

Angie smiled, laughed and talked during her shift, as always. But unlike always, her mind was else where.

She kept picturing the mixture of panic and befuddlement on Sam’s face as she’d left him that morning. Kept thinking about the reaction she’d hoped for, and hadn’t gotten, to her proclamation.

Well, she should have known better. She did know better.

And yet oddly enough she didn’t regret a thing.

After her shift, he was there waiting for her, just as promised. She’d expected no less. He got out of his car and opened the door for her. Got back in and drove.

All wordlessly.

She expected him to take her home. She expected him to get rid of her as soon as humanly possible.

She didn’t expect him to drive up to a nice outdoor barbecue place, where they got a table with such ease she knew he’d made reservations ahead of time.

Which made this…premeditated.

The nerves kicked up a gear.

The live band played too loud for talking-probably not a bad thing. The music was good, and though there was much unspoken between them, Angie felt…happy.

They danced.

That he even knew how to do so startled her, but they found their own rhythm together. And when, during a slow number, he rubbed his jaw to hers while holding her in those amazing arms of his, her eyes welled.

“Don’t,” he whispered in her ear, his hands moving slowly up and down her back.

“No, it’s okay.” She managed a watery smile. “It’s just that…I really like this.”

“Yeah.” He bent, put his lips to hers for a gentle, slow kiss. “Me, too.”

He took her to his place after that, still quiet as he led her into his bedroom. To his bed.

She lifted her arms for him, but he didn’t follow her down, not immediately. First he lit candles. Put on some soft music. Kicked off his shoes, moved close and pulled off his shirt.

He was beautiful, and in spite of everything, she ached for him. Then slowly, so slowly she ached all the more, he slid off her clothes, taking care to kiss every inch of flesh he exposed, until she lay before him, open to his gaze, quivering and tight with need.