have a beer, a nice dinner, have some kids, maybe a new station wagon every five years."
He cringed visibly. "I hate station wagons, I don't drink, and dinner is what restaurants are for." He stopped. "But, yes, to the kids. A boy and a girl, if you'd be kind enough."
She gaped at him. Well and truly gaped. He was smiling. "Have you been listening to me? At all?"
"Every word, love. Every word. But the only ones that count said something about you being in love with me. I figure we can pick things up from there." He covered the distance between them in three long strides, took her in his arms, and carried her to the bedroom. He plunked her unceremoniously on the bed and peeled off his shirt. The next second he was all over her, kissing her senseless, and making Cocoa Puffs of her few remaining brain cells.
"Wait!" She shoved him back—but not too far back. "Why aren't you a cop anymore?"
He kissed her where her neck met her shoulder. "I quit. I decided I don't much like guns and such—especially when they're pointed at me."
"You quit." She digested that; then, taken over by unstoppable female curiosity, asked, "Then what do you do—other than tail unsuspecting citizens?"
"It's this way, you see." He leaned close and kissed her ear. "After you left, and with me feeling so down, I decided I'd best take up with my second love."
"Which is?"
"I write books, about sex, murder, and general mayhem." He ran a finger from the pulse in her throat down to her belly. "And it seems I've found my perfect heroine."
"Books," she repeated, oddly not surprised.
"And can you believe they pay me for it—or will in couple of months when the first in the series comes out?"
"And that makes you happy? Writing books?"
"Ecstatic." He brushed his lips over hers. So soft. Her lungs imploded.
"Say it, Patrick. I want to hear it."
He stopped his kissing and took her face in his hands. Looking into her eyes, his own soft as moonlight, he said, "I love you, Gina. I always will."
She closed her eyes, savored the words. "And I love you, Patrick Byrne." But there was one last flutter of worry. "What I do—my job—are you okay with it?"
He cocked his head, frowned slightly. "Will there be station wagons?"
She laughed. "No."
He smiled. "Then we're good to go."
The End
Page forward for a note from EC Sheedy
A Note from EC Sheedy
Dear Reader,
Thank you for buying and reading this story. I sincerely hope you enjoyed STAYING COOL, and if you did, you'll watch for my other e-titles. :-)
Now Available:
ONE TOUGH COOKIE: A contemporary romance set on Spain's magical Costa del Sol and featuring a heroine resolutely determined to be financially, emotionally, and physically independent. She wants no man—until she meets Mister Wrong.
OVERKILL: The first in a series of short stories and novelettes featuring the Raven Force, a privately funded group of covert agents who work against the illegal arms/drug trade. Ravens cover the globe to get the job done—and to fall in love.
CALIFORNIA MAN: A romance set on an idyllic Pacific Northwest island, it tells the story of a timid, reclusive island woman who meets a golden California man—a man determined to calm her fears and gain her love.
MAN FOR THE MORNING: A single mother gets a break from her busy responsible life with a trip to Paris. Open-hearted, open-minded to all that life has to offer in the City of Light, she meets a man her polar opposite.
LOVE LETTERS, INC.: A clever and funny tech writer moonlights writing love letters for the "dating impaired" and ends up with love being returned to sender.
Happy reading!
Warm Wishes,
EC Sheedy
EC Sheedy who also writes as Carole Dean, lives in British Columbia. She is an island dweller—and loves it. Every morning she wakes to the ever changing sound and colors of the ocean outside her window. Whatever its mood, summer calm or winter storm, she finds it the perfect