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Jane only cried harder. “I don’t know why I’m doing this.” She pressed the heel of her hands to her eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”
Fiona rushed to her side to pat her cheek. “It most certainly is not embarrassing, hon. Those tears are little drops of love seeping from cracks in your heart. But there’s no reason for them today. You’ll win her back. You can do anything. Now, I’m gonna go, so Conrad can comfort you properly. I left a big stack of blueberry pancakes in the kitchen, but you aren’t allowed to eat them until you’ve laughed at least twice. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good girl.” Footsteps. Hinges squeaking. The soft snick of the door closing for good. Then Conrad and Jane were alone. He did as threatened and carefully maneuvered onto the couch, taking her in his arms and helping her burrow into his warmth. Beneath her ear, his heart raced.
He kissed the top of her head. “Everything will be okay, sweetheart.”
Through her sniffling, she asked, “How can you know that?”
“Just like Fiona said. You are Jane Ladling, and you can do anything. Even tame a rare and wild officer inspector detective special agent.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong. Her sniffles turned to giggles as a warm wave of euphoria swept over her. “Do you want to know what will make me feel better than assurances?” Did her words sound slightly slurred? Uh-oh. The pain meds must have kicked in at last. Oh well. Onward and upward. “If you take your shirt off. Skin-to-skin contact is very therapeutic. I’ve heard muscles make everything better.”
He burst out laughing—but he also took off his shirt, revealing pecs for days and an eight-pack glazed in bronze.
Goodness gracious! He was magnificent. “And you’re all mine,” she muttered, snuggling closer. Mmm. His heat. The softness of his skin…like velvet poured over smooth rocks.
“Finally I get to witness medicated Jane in person rather than over the phone.” Amusement tinged his voice. “Just so you know, you can say anything tonight. I won’t be taking advantage of you, but I will be loving and hating every moment of this delightful torture.”
She adored the way his heart pounded beneath her cheek. “If it wasn’t for the Ladling curse, I might have married you and had a dozen babies by now.”
He swallowed. “Oh yeah? Tell me more.”
“Should we get a couple’s cackets?” she asked him instead, then frowned. “Casekets. Caskets.” Better.
“How about we live together before we plan to die together?”
“I could never leave my cemetery. The residents would revolt.” Wait. She gently traced a pucker of raised tissue with the tip of her nail. A scar. Small and round, just above his heart.
“Got shot in the line of duty.” He offered the tidbit about his past without flinching while sifting strands of her hair through his fingers. “A suspect didn’t want to go in for questioning.”
“Well, that sucks. I hate that you were in pain because someone was dumb enough to protest a free tour of GBH headquarters. SomethingI’venever gotten, thank you very much. But I can’t say I regret the scar. Me-ow,” she said, pretending to scratch him.
He snickered, clasped her fingers and kissed her knuckles. “Like scars, do you?”
“Apparently.” She thought she might like everything about this man. The very reason she was keeping him.
Uh…keeping him?
No. Nope. Not happening. Probably.
CHAPTERTWELVE
“Do your victory dance when it seems like you’re losing. It confuses competitors.”
Fiona Lawrence, retired schoolteacher
Three days later, Jane pushed a protesting Conrad out the door and into the fading sunlight. “Go on. Get out of here. The office is desperate for your full time return! If they’re going to solve any cases, they need to borrow your brain more than I need pampering or protection. Okay. Bye.”
She tried to shut the door, but he stuck his foot out, stopping her. “I will be back tomorrow morning,” he said, stern.
“No!” Trying to hide her growing panic, she faked a laugh. “Come back in a week. Or two. Probably should make it three to be safe.”
“Tomorrow.” He removed his foot and stalked to his car.
“Fine! Tomorrow,” she bellowed, finally shutting the door.Dang, dang, dang. What was she going to do?
