think so.”
John’s expression darkened, but he said nothing. She had the feeling he had information about her stepbrothers that he was holding back. Likely he couldn’t say anything because it was an ongoing case.
What kind of trouble could her stepbrothers be in now?
When they finished eating, Hollie wiped her fingers on a paper napkin and John carried their plates and empty mugs to the sink. It took only a few moments to wash, dry, and put away the dishes.
They returned to the living room. John took her hand and brought her down on the couch beside him. She kicked off her shoes and tucked her socked feet beneath her as he put his arm around her shoulders and pressed her head against his chest. He slid his fingers into her hair as she snuggled closer to him, feeling like they were two puzzle pieces that fit together. Maybe it was too soon to feel that way, but right now it did.
As she rested against him and he stroked her hair, she listened to the crackle and pop of the fireplace and found herself feeling drowsy. She relaxed more fully, lulled by his warmth, his scent… His body was solid, hard, yet she fit so comfortably against him… Warm and secure in his embrace…
She woke with a start. She was confused only a moment as she gained her bearings. She was lying on John’s chest, his arm draped over her, caging her in.
Yet she didn’t feel caged. She felt safe. Like he could protect her from anything, anything that the world had to throw at her. Including her stepbrothers.
She shifted and put her hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn.
“Awake, Princess?” he asked.
She moved in his arms so that she was looking into his eyes. “How long was I asleep?”
John glanced at his watch. “Two hours. It’s close to midnight.”
She raised her brows. “Two hours? You must be stiff from sitting here so long.”
His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “Not really.” His fingers slid down the length of her hair. “It’s been nice.”
“It has.” She smiled at him.
“I think enough time has passed since your last drink,” he said. “It’s been a good three hours or so.” He gave her a sexy little smile. “Unless you want to spend the night.” He held up his hand. “I promise to be a real good boy.”
“I trust you.” She pushed herself to a sitting position. “But I do need to get home.”
He shifted her so that she was sitting up. “I’ll drive to the Highlander and we can get my truck before you head on to your place.”
It took only a few moments to get their jackets on and for him to make sure the fire was out. Before they walked out into the chilly night, he handed her the purse he’d set on the couch.
He opened the passenger door for her. “Are you sure you’re awake enough to drive home after we get my truck?”
She shivered. “If I wasn’t before, I sure am now.”
He kissed her on the forehead, helped her into the car, and closed the door behind her. She put on her seatbelt and rubbed her arms, trying to warm herself again. It had been so nice and cozy in his home.
Once the car was warmed up, he drove back to the bar. Before she could open the passenger side door, he caught her chin in his hand. “When I get out, you can slide on over to the driver’s seat so that you can stay warm.”
She looked into his eyes, unable to respond when she saw the intensity of his gaze that heated her from the inside out.
He cupped her cheeks in both hands and slowly lowered her face to his. His kiss was gentle, his touch delicate. It seemed like the kiss lasted an hour yet no time at all.
“I’d better let you get home.” His voice husky, he drew away. “I can follow you to make sure you get safely there.”
“I’ll be fine.” She rested her palm on his stubbled jaw. “Thank you for tonight.”
“This weekend I’ll give you a call,” he said. “I have your number.”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
He gave her another quick, hard kiss then opened the car door. Cold
John B. Garvey, Mary Lou Widmer