Goes down easy: Roped into romance by Alison Kent

Author:Alison Kent [Kent, Alison]
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780733567643
Publisher: Harlequin Mills & Boon
Published: 2006-03-15T04:00:00+00:00

9

LYING WITH ONE arm beneath his head, the other draped across his bare stomach, Book Franklin stared up at Della Brazille’s bedroom ceiling. He couldn’t see much of anything as dark as it was, the only light in the room peeking through a gap in the heavy blue drapes.

The lack of visibility wasn’t a big deal. He could only think of one thing—one woman—he wanted to see, and since Della was at his side sleeping, that was good enough.

It wasn’t as if, since seeing them last, he’d forgotten anything about the tiny dimple in the hollow of her throat or the patch of freckles on her shoulder or the knot above her ankle from a poorly set break. And the way she’d looked up at him, the tears she’d cried as they’d made love, sure as hell hadn’t slipped his mind.

Thinking of everything he’d learned about her during the night had more than his heart aching. The fact that someone wanted to hurt her weighed large on his mind, making sleep impossible. It was time to get up anyway, or would be if he could bring himself to leave her side.

He couldn’t. All he could think about was the reality that if she’d been standing three feet closer to the door when that brick had come sailing through, he wouldn’t be in bed with her now.

He was still having a hard time believing that after all this time she’d been the one to make the first move. He’d never talked to her about his feelings, figuring there wasn’t any need, that more than likely she knew as much about them as he did.

The last two years had been trying, not knowing if she felt the same, if they would continue to see one another only as cop and psychic.

Until last night, he hadn’t realized how very much he wanted them to share more than a professional relationship. How waking up to her every morning was about the most perfect life he could imagine. He just couldn’t figure how making it happen was possible.

Call him old-fashioned and a chauvinist, but he hated the idea of subjecting the woman he loved to his schedule and his life. The hours were brutal, the situations in which he often found himself even more so.

Sure, he could be driving to an office job and get hit by a tractor trailer, but the odds of not coming home in one piece were a whole lot higher as a member of the NOPD than if he’d belonged to an organization of CPAs.

Then again, maybe he was being a prick about it. He knew plenty of guys who made it happen. He just didn’t see himself being one of them. Not after having his own father gunned down in the line of duty.

Book had been fifteen when it had happened. His mother had never recovered, and he’d been thrust like a big fat cliché into a role he wasn’t ready for. How many fifteen-year-olds, whose previous focus had been how to get that baseball scholarship, would be?

The man of the house.

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