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MINKA
“Babe?” Archer’s deep baritone voice digs into my dreams. His hand, large and strong, strokes my shoulder and draws me from my sleep. “Minka? Wake up.”
“Sleepy.” I turn away and bring my knees up to my chest.
I don’t have to open my eyes to know it’s not time to get up yet, nor do I have to fully wake to feel Archer’s body plastered along mine. His thighs hug my legs, and his torso warms my back. It’s my favorite place to be… when he’s not shaking me awake.
“Go ‘way, Archer.”
“You have to wake up.” A pair of supple lips surrounded by the coarse regrowth of hair presses to the ball of my shoulder. “Minnnnka. Babe. Wake up.”
“It’s time to sleep.”Stay unconscious, stay unconscious, stay unconscious!“I just did my infusion,” I mumble. “Tired.”
“Okay.” His breath is a whisper. His touch, softer than a feather. “You can stay here and rest,” he accepts. “But I have to go to work.”
“No.” A whimper vibrates along my throat. “No work.”
“Dispatch called.” He presses another kiss to my cheek, then backs away, careful not to tug my blankets and let the cold in. “I have to go out. But you can stay here.”
“Work?” I mutter. I’m already awake. Already thinking. “Homicide?”
“Suspected.” The mattress decompresses when all six feet, three inches of my homicide detective husband moves to his feet. “Fletch and I have to run it. But you can sleep. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“You need an M.E.” Flopping to my back, I slit my eyes open and see only his silhouette, as the streetlights outside illuminate his frame. “You’re calling me in officially?”
“Well…” Grabbing a pair of jeans and stepping into them, he nods so I see the movement of his head. “Considering you’re the chief medical examiner,andyou share my bed, I figured… save the phone call, right?” Fixing the button on his jeans, he grins, then moves a knee onto the bed again and presses yet another kiss to my cheek. “But I’ll call someone else. You need to sleep—especially if your meds are making you extra tired.”
“Ugh.” I curl back to my side and hug my legs for a minute more.
Squeezing my knees, I luxuriate in the warmth of our blankets, but as Archer pushes up to stand and shrugs a tank on, no doubt assuming I’m on my way to unconsciousness, I toss my blankets off and startle the fluffy white cat who slumbers at the top of Archer’s pillow.
She’s a stage-ten clinger who sleeps only on him.
Chloe hisses her displeasure and pushes up to stretch her legs. Her fur is stark white, and her eyes, though objectively a lovely shade of blue, are evil enough I see her glare even in the dark. She turns a circle on Archer’s pillow. A second. A third. Then she flops down again and sneers at our proximity.
She hates me. And I’m not sure I’d save her if she was stuck at the top of a tree and there were no firefighters around to bring her down.
“Minka?” Walking to my side of the room, Archer grabs his boots and a fresh pair of socks. “What are you doing? You can go back to sleep.”
“I’m coming.” Swinging my feet over the side of the bed, I press my sensitive soles to the floor and groan. “What time is it?”
“Just after four.” He sits beside me and goes to work on his shoes. “You can stay here, babe. I already said I’ll call someone else.”
“You need an M.E.” Grumbling, I push up to stand and remember, when the chain around my neck falls against my chest, that I’m as naked as any person could be. Not even a cute teddy worn to bed. Nor socks.
Goosebumps race along my skin and send tingles up my spine, but I reach up out of habit and loop my finger through the wedding band dangling between my breasts. Naked, cold, and sleepy, I make my way into the hall and straight into the bathroom.
“Two minutes,” I call over my shoulder. Slapping the shower faucet on so steaming water jets through the showerhead, I step into the lava-temperate stream and sigh as the warmth washes the crusty sleep from my eyes. “Just give me two minutes, and you’ve got yourself a medical examiner.”
“Two minutes?” he clarifies. “Justtwo?”
“Just two!”
I don’t wet my hair. I don’t wash it and risk having to work in the pre-dawn cold with freezing water dripping into my shirt.
“Did you call Detective Fletcher yet?” I holler.
“Yeah.” Following me into the dark bathroom, Archer flips the lights on, blinding me and eliciting a strange, Chloe-like hiss as I slam my eyes shut.
