“Why?”
He slid the weapon from her fingers, flicked the safety and stuck it in his waistband. “Because you look like yer gonna drop it. And keeping you safe is my job now. Besides, I don’t want to give you any reason to think you don’t need me around after this.”
The reality of what she’d done threatened to consume her, but she focused on his eyes to keep from freaking out. His gorgeous, beautiful eyes. “Do you really mean that?”
He pushed the hair back from her face. “I do. If, that is, you think you can put up with me on a more regular basis.”
She threw her arms around his neck. Closed her eyes and held on tight.
He laughed and tugged her body close. “I take it that’s a yes.”
“No, this is a yes.” She pressed er lips to his. He answered by kissing her as though he couldn’t get enough of her.
Oh, yeah, she was already used to this. Thank God he’d gotten used to her as well.
He eased back. “Yer not worried I might actually be cursed?”
“Cursed?” she asked, looking up at him. “No. Though I’m starting to wonder if this necklace might be blessed. If that jaguar hadn’t shown up when it did, we’d all be dead.”
The corner of his mouth curled in that sexy half-smile again. “Why, Ms. Kauffman. Do I sense a little superstition in you?”
“Well, you know, I am part Irish. I guess a sprinkling of superstition’s in my blood, too.”
His smile widened to brighten his whole face.
Archer coughed. “Um, kids? Far be it for me to rain on your sappy-ass parade, but does the word jaguar mean anything to y’all? I’d like to get the hell out of here before that thing comes back and decides it wants dessert.”
Lauren slid her hand down to twine her fingers with Finn’s. Surrounded by gruesome reminders that nothing in life turned out the way you planned, she knew the road ahead wasn’t guaranteed to be smooth. But she was willing to travel it. With him. Because she’d finally found something worth more than her independence, worth more than her career, worth more even than the gem around her neck.
“I’m ready,” she said. “How about you?”
Finn’s eyes sparked with heat. “Only if I get to watch you.”
“In my brand-new Givenchys?”
“And nothing else.”
“You’re on, Tierney.”
Don’t miss Dani Harper’s sexy debut,
CHANGELING MOON,
out now from Brava!
Freezing rain sliced out of the black sky, turning the wet pavement to glass. Zoey stared out at the freakish weather and groaned aloud. With less than two days left in the month of April, the skies had been clear and bright all afternoon. Trees were budding early and spring had seemed like a sure bet. Now this. Local residents said if you didn’t like the weather this far north, just wait fifteen minutes. She gave it five, only to watch the rain turn to sleet.
Perhaps she should have asked more questions before taking the job as editor of the Dunvegan Herald Weekly. She was getting the peace and quiet she’d wanted, all right, but so far the weather simply sucked. Winter had been in full swing when she’d arrived at the end of October. Wasn’t it ever going to end?
Sighing, she buttoned her thin jacket up to her chin and hoisted the camera bag over her shoulder in preparation for the long, cold walk to her truck. All she wanted before bed was a hot shower, her soft flannel pajamas with the little cartoon sheep on them, the TV tuned to Late Night, and a cheese and mushroom omelet. Hell, maybe just the omelet. She hadn’t eaten since noon, unless the three faded M&Ms she’d found at the bottom of her bag counted as food.
As usual, the council meeting for the Village of Dunvegan had gone on much too long. Who’d have thought that such a small community could have so much business to discuss? It was well past ten when the mayor, the councillors, and the remnants of a long-winded delegation filedout. Zoey had lingered only a few moments to scribble down a couple more notes for her article but it was long enough to make her the last person out of the building.
The heavy glass door automatically locked behind her, the metallic sound echoing ominously. Had she taken longer than she thought? There wasn’t a goddamn soul left on the street. Even the hockey arena next door was deserted, although a senior men’s play-off game earlier had made parking difficult to find. Now, her truck—a sturdy, old red Bronco that handled the snow much better than her poor little SUV had—was the only vehicle in sight.
The freezing rain made the three-block trek to the truck seem even longer. Not only did the cold wind drive stinging pellets of ice into her face, but her usual businesslike stride had to be shortened to tiny careful steps. Her knee-high leather boots were strictly a fashion accessory—her bedroom slippers would have given her more traction on the ice. If she slipped and broke her ankle out here, would anyone even find her before morning?
The truck glittered strangely as she approached and her heart sank. Thick sheets of ice coated every surface, sealing the doors. Nearly frozen herself, she pounded on the lock with the side of her fist until the ice broke away and she could get her key in. “Come on, dammit, come on!”