Hard Days Knight: Under-Cover Knights, Book 1 (21 page)

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A
LSO BY LIVIA QUINN

All books available on your favorite formats
here.

(
C
ozy Paranormal
/Urban Fantasy)

The Destiny Paramortals

Storm Crazy, #1

Cry Me a River, #2

Eve of Chaos, #3

Blame It on the Moon,#4

Destiny Boxset Books 1-3

(
C
ontemporary
/Military Romance)

Thunder Point

Storm Warning #1

Under-Cover Knights

Hard Days Knight #1

Her First Knight #2

Merry Christmas, Baby #3

U
ndone

A Sexy Romantic Adventure

“
S
amantha
?” came a voice on the other side of the powder room door.

She looked at the ceiling. Great. “Yes, Jed…”

“Are you okay?”

“Jed, you’re becoming kind of a mother hen. I’m just using the john,” she said in her best Captain Larue tone. There was a long silence while she continued to look for the lever and wondered if he’d left. Then she heard his foot scrape against the door. “Jed. Are you still out there?”

“Do you need me?” he asked quickly.

“No, but…” she tried to think of something that would make him go. “You’re kind of cramping my style.”

“Did you say you’re cramping?” He asked a little louder.

“Sshh, you’ll have every one— OO… Oh!” The pain hit so suddenly that she doubled over. She would have if she hadn’t had a fifty-pound baby in her lap. It hit again, and this time, she moaned.

“Samantha, open this door.” His voice was too loud. She knew what that was going to mean.
The Horde
.

Sam grit her teeth. “Go away, Jed.”

“I’m not leaving until you open this door, and I see you’re okay.”

Breathing rapidly to quell the spasms, Sam said, “Can’t you leave me alone? Get Buffy or Mom if you want to be helpful.”

She could almost hear him thinking on the other side of the wooden barrier. “If you need your mother, you need me. I’m trained in this. No one else here is. Unlock the door before I bust in.”

“There’s no room to bust in, Stern. Me and this kid are taking up the entire bathroom.” She sighed and scooted to the edge of the toilet. “Hold on, hold on, don’t go causing a ruckus. I wouldn’t put it past
The Horde
to try to fit into this one-person bathroom.”
Horde
was the affectionate name Sam and her brother Luc gave the rest of the family, except for their father. She twisted the button on the knob and the door swung out.

A frowning and obviously concerned Jed immediately knelt in front of her, squeezing his wide shoulders in between her and the sink. His golden brown eyes bore into hers looking for clues, just like a detective. “Okay. Be honest with me, Samantha. Are you having contractions?”

“No! At least… I don’t… think so. I just couldn’t find the lever to flush the toilet.”

Jed’s eyebrows crashed down in disbelief. “That’s all? You couldn’t flush?” He drew back making a face and said, “What have you been eating?”

She glared at him even though she caught the sparkle in his eyes. “Jalapenos and banana pudding… and some other stuff.”

He chuckled and made the same search she had while she sat there taking shallow breaths. If she took a deep breath she would take in his manly scent. He worked out a lot and had probably come straight from the gym. The smell was intoxicating, mesmerizing—
damn these hormones.
She shook herself. He was still tinkering with something over her left shoulder, then the sound and vibration of the toilet flushing gave her a small sense of relief. She looked up at him as he straightened. “Where was it?”

He scratched his head looking surprised. “Against the wall. The toilet was installed backwards.”

“That’s crazy,” she said as her mother and older sister Chaz appeared in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” asked Chaz.

“Samantha, are you in labor?” her mother, the Colonel, demanded.

She rolled her eyes. “No, I needed to use the restroom and—Ahh.” The cry was ripped from her throat.

Jed wasted no time asking for permission. He leaned down and helped her get to her feet then scooped her into his arms. “Jed,” she protested, then softer. “Why are you doing this? You didn’t want me… or children. I’ve tried to make it easy for you.”

“So you decided to flirt with the quarterback.”

“Flirt with—grrr. Why don’t you just call 911? It isn’t an emergency.” Her eyes went wide as a warm gush of liquid spread down Jed’s right arm to his jeans.

He grated his teeth and arched a brow. “You don’t think so? Hush, now. I need all my concentration to carry you.” He angled her feet through the door. She knew he wasn’t going to drop her.

Then he said, “Damn, you’re heavy.”

Sam met his eyes. “It’s the shoes. And thank you, darling, you’re such a charmer. It’s what I love about you.”

Their eyes met and time seemed to tick one second for every twenty. Her gaze went to his mouth, their last kiss coming to mind and the desire that streaked through her made a lie of what she’d been told pregnant women could feel.

After telling her their relationship was over, he’d said he’d be there if she needed him. She’d thought,
right
. But then he’d shown up with the
distractions
, brought her that lovely lullaby CD and told her she should sit on the porch in the swing and listen to it. Had she just said, “love”? She shook herself mentally. “Or hate. Please put me down.”

“No chance, Doc.” He made it out of the bathroom, carefully angling her feet so they wouldn’t hit the sink, the door or… the crowd of spectators in the hall.

Sam groaned. “God. Kill me now.”

S
torm Lake
—is it Mayberry or Middle Earth?

I sensed Dylan’s potent aura before I heard the heels of his boots thunk against the hardwood floor, then his shadow fell across me. With a slight tilt of my head I saw black hair wet with rain combed away from his beautifully dangerous face, his lips a mere breath from mine, so close I could see each stubbled hair on his cheek; the eyes I knew to be a rich forest green, were obsidian, wild.

Blast those pesky pheromones!
My body was begging me to jump him, the memories of our limbs entwined in a hot morning caress making it nearly impossible to maintain a facade of irritation. And he knew it.

“Dylan.” I pushed the glass away.

His lips crooked up at the corner and he relaxed, flopping onto the nearest barstool. He looked me over, refrained from commenting on my messy appearance. “You look stressed. I was going to buy you a drink, but it looks like you’ve had one.” His brow arched at the sight of the shot glass.

I returned his perusal, raking over the black duster where moisture steamed off that big hard body. The only obvious break in color was the shiny gold badge on the black id wallet visible between the leather lapels. He was dark and dangerous, and once again I felt the sensual pull. I rubbed my forehead, willing those thoughts away.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Persephone?”

“That’s it! Just once, could you call me by my friggin’ name?” I pushed off the stool and turned on him, fisting clumps of my hair.

He sat back, looked at me closely. “Talk to me. What’s going on,” he said.

“I need a favor, Inspector.”

He slid off his stool, motioning the bartender away with a look. “I think you’ve had enough.”

I turned on him, “Who died and made you the keeper of me?” And then I remembered what I’d learned, and a sob escaped my throat. I turned away.
Get a grip
. I signaled the bartender to bring me a tonic water, and felt Dylan’s hand squeeze my shoulder gently. I didn’t mean to let him, but it felt so…comforting.

“Bad day?” His voice was a calming purr. “Bad week,” he corrected. He could be so sweet. I hated that I remembered that about him, too. “I’m sorry I was late. I’ve been on a job in Baton Rouge.” He stroked a length of my hair behind my ear.

I could have easily allowed him to shoulder my troubles. Fix everything. No, that was tequila thinking. I didn’t need the betraying bastard to fix anything for me. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t need you.”

I think he winced, but my vision was suspect.

“Come on, you need to call it a day.” He got up towering over me.

I slid off the stool, swaying just a smidgen. I was sure he didn’t notice, but then his hand settled on my hip steering me between the other stools and patrons into the fresh rain-washed night. I tripped on the uneven walkway of the porch and felt his hand on my elbow.

He said, “Tempe,” and turned me toward him. “Damn,” he muttered, looking off.

“Ah, so you do know my name,” I said.

“Look, I need to talk to you. Privately.”

I guess the dark night with only a few people coming and going from the parking lot wasn’t private enough. He led me around the side of the building. The comforting song of the rain frogs started up again as I propped myself against the outside wall. He placed both hands on either side of my head.

“This may not be the best time, but I need to say this.” His flippant manner was gone, replaced by frank sincerity. Whether he was deciding to continue or just weighing his words, I waited. He sounded different, almost humble. Huh.

“When I was on that job in Baton Rouge, I realized that I couldn’t let something happen before I got the chance to tell you…” he let out a deep breath. “…about what happened two years ago, I didn’t mean to hurt you. There were—are reasons why…”

I guess what he saw on my face he took for forgiveness, instead of shock. “Oh, hell.” His lips touched mine in a kiss reminiscent of those nights by the fire, touches drenched in desire, his body like hot steel…I groaned.

There was comfort in his kiss, and in the long overdue apology. The last few days had been a nightmare, with memories and revelations coming at me faster than I could assimilate them. Then my conversation with Aurora resurfaced. I flattened my hands on his chest. “Dylan, no.”

I heard boots hit the porch and pushed harder.

“Well, damn. Looks like I’ve come at a bad time.”

“Readers who like small town stories with quirky characters told with humor and emotion; or who read Charlaine Harris, Molly Harper or Darynda Jones will enjoy Livia Quinn. Can’t wait for the next Storm Lake book.” Storm Crazy

A low animal growl sounded from deep in his chest as he halted, still deep within her, his chest heaving in agonizing uneven breaths. In a single fluid motion, he levered himself off of her to sit on the edge of the bed.

Oh my God, what was happening to them? Agony clamped down on her heart. How could she make this right? Shoulders slumped, he held his shaking hands in front of his face as if he didn’t recognize them as his own. “I’m sorry,” he whispered raggedly.

“Cass—”

Cass held up an unsteady hand. He only had a few words left and he wanted to get them said. He wiped his hand over his face, disgusted. Looking down he saw the rose petals crushed and broken beneath his feet. Like his heart.

He’d done it again; he’d given up his self-respect to this woman who only wanted him for sex and a piece of glorified rock. And this time he’d forced himself on her in an act not entirely of love.

It was over.

He placed his fingers on her chin and waited until she returned his gaze. “When are you going to figure out that you became the successful, intelligent, creative woman you are, despite that sonofabitch of a father? You might flash the
Blood
in your father’s face, but you’ll only be disappointed if you think it will make him respect you.”

“No, I—”

He pulled his pants on, his shoulders hunched, shook his head. When he turned to her, she ached at the pain and defeat in his eyes.

“You’re terrified of relying on someone, on me— trusting me.”

She couldn’t speak because what he said was true. At least it had been— once.

He stroked her cheek, a slight tremor in his fingers then his hand dropped to his side, “You’re breaking my heart, sheila.”

He walked to the door, said quietly, “Whatever it takes, I’ll get your opal. Then maybe I can move on.”

“But—” he’d tuned her out.

“I won’t touch you again.” As if all his energy had been drained, he rested his forehead against the hard wood. “I have to try to move on.”

Then he was gone.