Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [84]
“It’s half your fault,” he told her. He was breathing hard, his nostrils flared, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Hell, it’s not even half your fault. You can’t help being beautiful and sexy. And it’s not your fault the way my body reacts when I think about you.”
Her eyes widened as she stared at him in disbelief.
“I thought I could do this—keep things strictly impersonal. I’m the sheriff. You’re a citizen of my county whose life has been threatened. It’s my duty to protect you.”
Speechless, she simply stood there gaping at him.
“But I don’t have to personally protect you,” he told her. “I have deputies who can do that.”
“Yes, you do,” she finally managed to say.
“I’ve got a good life, a job I like, two great kids, a nice, respectable girlfriend.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Any man would be lucky to have a woman like Abby Sherman care about him.”
“Yes, you’re right. She’s a fine woman.”
Live wire tension pulsed between them. Throbbing. Intense. A millisecond from exploding.
“But God help us all, she’s not you.”
Mike grabbed her shoulders so quickly that she didn’t have time to react before his big hands tightened almost painfully on her upper arms. She held her breath. Wanting. Needing. Uncertain what was going to happen. And afraid, afraid for both of them.
She recognized the anguish on his face and sensed the battle of wills going on inside him.
“It’s all right,” she told him. “If you want to kiss me, kiss me. I know that afterward, you’ll walk out that door and nothing between us will have changed.”
He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. She suspected he was praying for the strength to overcome temptation. But God help her, God help both of them, because she didn’t want to resist. She wanted him to kiss her, to touch her, to hold her in his arms. One last time.
He yanked her closer, cradled her face with his hands and lowered his head. Every nerve in her body rioted and every cell came vividly alive the moment his mouth touched hers. Tenderly, hesitantly, in direct contrast to the raging passion they both felt, he kissed her. Their mouths mated with gentle longing.
He lifted his head, kissed each cheek and then her forehead before he released his hold on her face and took a couple of steps back and away from her. Breathing heavily, their faces flushed, their bodies hot with arousal, they stood there and looked at each other for an endless moment. And then Mike turned and walked away. She didn’t move from the spot until after he’d left her house. Only when she heard his truck pull out of her driveway did she draw a deep, aching breath.
He had parked on a back road that led into the woods behind Lorie’s house and carefully crept up to one of the side windows. He often came here in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her naked, but that had happened only once. But once had been enough to show him that her body was still as perfect as the day she had posed for her Playboy centerfold.
What he hadn’t expected tonight was to find Mike Birkett’s truck parked in the drive. Mike shouldn’t be here. He had no rights where Lorie was concerned. He didn’t deserve a second chance with her, not after the way he’d treated her all these years.
If she’d been his girl, he would have forgiven her for everything she’d ever done wrong. He loved her. He appreciated her for the woman she was. No other man could take care of her the way he could.
She’s mine!
He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, wanted everyone in Dunmore to know that Lorie belonged to him.
He would never let Mike have her. And he would never let the Midnight Killer claim her for his own.
Shontee had insisted on going to the club with Tony that evening, overruling all of his objections.
“The security here at the house is practically foolproof. You’re safer here than anywhere else.”
“What can happen?” she had whined. “You’ve got bouncers at the club, along with your own security team, and