Evanne Lorraine
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Teaser Tuesday

January 20, 2009 | Teaser Tuesday

When I was working on Dangerous Surrender Regan and Ian threatened to highjack the story. To keep the focus where it belonged I had to delete one of my favorite scenes. Since I hoard everything, including deleted scenes, here’s one for dangerously sexy fans.

Reagan heard the doorbell, and then glanced at the clock. That would be Ciara. She was early enough that they’d have time for coffee and an exchange of juicy tidbits before Reagan had to get dressed.

The second chime of the doorbell reminded her she’d never warned Zach that Ciara would be there. It’d be okay. Besides, he’d muttered something about work. He never showed for this kind of friends and family party.

“It’s open, come on in. I’m in the kitchen.”

Reagan poured two mugs of coffee and tried to extract the cream from a refrigerator crammed with food for the backyard party.

“Good morning.”

She heard the deep familiar voice and the bowl of nicely torn lettuce she’d been moving slipped from suddenly clumsy fingers. She whirled, finding a disgustingly dapper Ian McKnight standing too close.

Reagan was acutely aware that she was wearing only brief sleeping shorts, the thinnest camisole ever overcharged for, and that she’d been bending over. She fought the urge to crawl inside her still open refrigerator.

“What a surprise,” she said, intending to sound frosty, but her voice came out husky.

“You were expecting someone else,” Ian said with a frown.

Judging from his expression, he’d concluded that someone else was her lover.

As long as she got him out of here before Ciara showed up, he’d keep right on thinking that too. If she could convince him that she was taken then her troubles were over. Ian was way too upright to encroach on another man’s territory. Normally, she’d balk at that kind of deception, but right now, it struck her as a brilliant idea.

Reagan was so busy thinking about how to make the situation work to her advantage. She ignored the very large problem standing in her kitchen. She picked up the wayward lettuce shoved it back in the fridge, snagged the cream, and bumped the door closed. She turned and found herself trapped between Ian and the fridge.

“Who is he?” Ian loomed over her.

She really needed coffee before she dealt with this. Why hadn’t she thought ahead for even one question?

Is this how suspects felt when Ian got in their faces? He’d never hurt her. She knew he’d take a bullet for her in a heartbeat. Still, she was breathing too fast, her pulses raced, and her mouth was dry. She licked her lips with a nervous tongue. Tried to draw in a decent breath and bumped her breasts against a very solid male chest. She ached from the fleeting contact. What would it be like if he touched them?

His head lowered until his classic Roman nose touched hers. Her ability to form rational thought vanished. The seductive scent of him, warm clean man with a tang of citrus filled her next breath.
Something warm and hairy with leather straps nudged under the arch of her foot. She glanced down and saw she was standing on top of his feet. When had that happened? She opened her mouth to say something, but a little needy moan escaped instead. Before she had time to be embarrassed she was busy dealing with a hot forceful tongue bent on invading her mouth. At first, she pressed back against his assault, but that felt too good so she angled her head and surrendered to the kiss.

Mistake.

A big hand wrapped around her back, pulling her more completely against him. Wonderful blunt fingers brushed the side of her breast. She melted against him wanting more than his tongue. She tilted her hips.

Oh my god. Right there.

Ian pulled back, too late. Reagan had run out of breath and sense. A very faint voice in her head murmured about caution, work, and involvement. Nothing important. Boring stuff that had nothing to do with her or the smoking gun wedged in his shorts. Judging from the hungry look in his eyes – he was all for skipping further preliminaries. And getting down to it too. She reached out and fisted one hand in his tee shirt to keep him close while she nibbled her way up the side of his jaw.

“There’s no other guy is there?” His voice held definite notes of possessiveness.

Reagan stepped back so fast she damn near fell. Ian reached out steadying her. He watched her with the same kind of intense concentration she’d seen in the eyes of really big cats stalking their prey.

Once she’d put some distance between them, the faint voice in her head that had been murmuring about caution, turned up the volume.

“What guy are we talking about McKnight?”

He crossed his arms in front of his wide expanse of chest, making all those impressive muscles flex. She made herself turn away, picking up her cold coffee, and then taking a sip. She stared out her kitchen window. Willed her heart to slow, fought to control her breathing. She pretended there was nothing out of the ordinary about talking to her partner while barely dressed. Pretended there was nothing unusual about wrapping her body around him like stripes on a candy cane. Pretended there was nothing happening she couldn’t handle.

A warm hand clasped her shoulder. She jerked, sloshing what was left of her coffee on the spotless white tile counter. She got paper towels, mopped up the spill with hand that hardly trembled at all.

“You kissed me.” His words held accusation.

Reagan tossed the soggy paper towels into the garbage under the sink and leaned the back of her hips against the counter.

“So?” She shrugged. “Look, I’m having a party and I’ve got about a million things to do.” Starting with breaking your heart. And maybe mine. She glanced away from the raw hurt in his eyes. Damn him. He needed to toughen up.

“I’m sorry.” She swallowed and tried for something much calmer. “It shouldn’t have happened. You’re a very attractive man, but it would never work between us.” Reagan drew in another deep life-giving breath. “And since we have to work together it’ll be better if –“

“You aren’t giving us a chance.”

Reagan managed a credible laugh.

“It was just a kiss McKnight. Get over it.” She kept her voice cool and her eyes locked on his. It was a kiss like no other she’d ever had, but that wasn’t something she’d ever tell him.

He wasn’t backing off and he wasn’t buying it. Something had given him new confidence. A hint of a smile warmed his deep blue eyes.

Maybe she wasn’t masking her feelings as well as she thought.

She wasn’t buying it either and that was a much bigger problem. Her career depended on getting him to cool it. Being an officer meant everything to her.

Years ago, Reagan had accepted that marriage and kids weren’t going to be part of her life. The only family she had was Zach. He was a great brother, but she was lucky if she saw him once or twice a month. She had a few girl friends, but being a cop was what made getting up everyday worthwhile. Nothing else came close.

If Ian had been anyone other than her partner, and not into the whole wife and mommy thing, then she might’ve considered an affair. Oh hell, he’d have been on the floor getting his brains screwed out.

But he was her partner and she had to keep it together or they’d both get hurt.

Ian took a step closer, erasing the distance between them and her resistance. He reached out, tilting her chin. His gaze drifted down her face and locked on her lips. She needed to lick them. They were dry, bruised, and probably blistered from the first kiss. Her breath came in short little puffs.

Wrapping his arms around her, he held her gently. Then he brushed his mouth across hers. She could’ve resisted if he’d grabbed or thrust, but his tenderness unraveled all the needs swirling in her belly.

Reagan’s very bones softened in the heat of his embrace. He gave a deep groan and she answered in kind. It had been so long and she was already so close. She deserved an orgasm. She needed it. Her clenched thighs eased, the better to fit that marvelous hard length where she needed it. Her thin shorts weren’t all that much of a barrier. She wanted this now. They could get naked later, do it right, do it wrong, and do it all night long.

The doorbell rang.

They separated. A slight parting of their lips. Far enough for her to see determination etched into every chiseled line of Ian’s face, even his dimpled chin jutted. A new round of flutters started in Reagan’s stomach and moved lower.

Her cheeks warmed. Was this going to happen every time she looked at him? What had he done to her? She met his gaze, trying to keep her cool, and failed. She dropped her eyes and stared at the toes poking out of his sandals. They were so male. Even his toes were sexy. She was in big trouble. Felony level trouble. Grand lust trouble. Busted by a rookie.

Ian leaned down his lips brushing her ear. “We aren’t done.” His warm breath sent electric charges skittering down her spine.

While her bones liquefied from his whispered warning, he unwound his arms. Instead of releasing her, he put his hands on either side of her waist and lifted her to eye level. He held her there for a heartbeat, his eyes locked with hers. Finally, he lowered her in a slow slide down his hard body.

The doorbell rang. Again.

Let him deal with whoever was at the door. She bolted for her bedroom on shaky legs. It took her five minutes to get dressed. Two and half of those were spent holding a cold washcloth to her face. She’d planned to wear shorts, but yanked on a pair of faded jeans instead. What she really needed was body armor. No, what she needed was for Ian to be a couple of years older, off the Seattle Police force, and a whole lot less old-fashioned about love.

Reagan heard Ian and Ciara talking before she saw them. Pausing on the stairs, she eavesdropped shamelessly.

“What brought you by so early? Did Reagan rope you into helping set up?” Ciara’s warm friendly voice soothed Reagan’s jangled nerves.

“No, I found this in my rig.” He paused. “I thought it might be Reagan’s.”

“My favorite bracelet,” Ciara’s voice was rich with delight.

So he’d had an excuse. Sure, he had. Ian wouldn’t have crashed in here without one. He’d had no way of knowing she was having a party. She should’ve invited him from the start, but she hadn’t wanted him to read something into it. Now she had to include him. Damn, he’d figure out in about two seconds why she hadn’t done so before. He might be a couple of years younger, but he wasn’t stupid.

Posted by Evanne @ 6:00 am  

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