Cuff Me Lacy (6 page)

"Nonsense. Paddy should be coming home at any moment and we can all chat. Just like the old times.” Mrs. M. smiled and a faraway look came over her face. “Actually, I'll make some fresh lemonade, like the old times."

More to keep herself calm than for Mrs. M., Chrissie offered to help. She sliced and squeezed a dozen lemons, set out the sugar and stirred the concoction while Mrs. M. added each ingredient in the proper proportions.

"You make the best lemonade, Mrs. M."

"Thanks, dear. I remember a time when I was terrified to let you near the juicer because you were always in such a hurry to get your drink.” She chuckled, bringing her hand to cover her mouth. “You've grown into a handy little helper."

"Thanks. That means a lot coming from you."

The older woman's blue eyes clouded and she took Chrissie's hand in hers. “I've been meaning to talk to you, but I haven't had the nerve to approach the subject. I just didn't know how."

Chrissie recognized the serious tone and worried that Patrick had said something to his mother. Mrs. M. was old fashioned and would never approve of them spending the night together like they had.

"Now that your parents are far away, I have the responsibility to look after you.” Mrs. M. led her to sit by the table. “Honey, I've seen you grow up from a young baby to a beautiful woman, and being that I have more experience in life, I must speak to you with complete honesty and candor."

A hollow pit settled in Chrissie's gut, as she rubbed the back of Mrs. M.'s hand. “Is there something wrong? Perhaps there is something that I can do to help? Patrick is home and maybe we can talk to him together."

Patrick's mother giggled. “I don't mind if we speak with Paddy about this and work on a solution collectively, but I think you should hear me out first."

Confusion filled Chrissie, and she wanted the other woman to spit it out. “Okay. I'm listening."

Mrs. M. nodded, adjusting their hands and rubbing her thumbs over Chrissie's knuckles. “When I met Paddy's father, I was immediately smitten with the man, but I never admitted it. You see, Mr. MacKlick was a whole year younger than I was, and it was frowned upon for proper ladies to be courted by younger gentlemen."

"I didn't know Mr. M. was younger than you."

"Dear, we never advertised it. As a matter of fact, at first, I refused to see him. Secluding myself and rarely going on a date with anyone, I was very lonely. He eventually married a different woman, but lost his first wife during a bad pregnancy. He grieved that harsh loss for years. Then, one night after Christmas mass, he approached me and wouldn't take no for an answer. He wanted to stop by on Christmas morning."

Mrs. M. lowered her voice and folded her hands in a contemplative stance. “Over a dozen years had passed by then, and I'd been denying what I felt for my Johnny.” She wiped a large, solitary tear off her cheek. “I had lost a dozen years of love and happiness because he was a year younger."

"But you eventually got together,” Chrissie breathed, smiling in relief. “I'd say this story has a happy ending."

"Yes. It did. But the sad part is that I was forty years old before I had Paddy. And now I'm an old woman and cannot fully enjoy any grandchildren the way my grandmother did. I have such nice memories of spending time with her; both as a child and as an adult."

"Mrs. M., times have changed. Basically, you're healthy and young enough—"

"Oh, no. This talk is not about me, dear. I just wanted to tell you not to wait and to follow your heart when it speaks to you."

The back door screen opened and Patrick strolled in. “Stop, Momma. You don't need to worry about Lacy."

Chrissie wondered how he knew what they'd been discussing and squirmed in her seat. Her heart pumped faster at the sight of him, and she wanted to run to the damn man, throw her arms around his neck and plaster herself to his chest. But the look in his eyes sent an immobilizing chill down her spine.

He didn't like her. It was obvious.

"Our Lacy is an engaged woman,” he added, strutting to the refrigerator and yanking on the door. He stared at the contents, but didn't reach for a thing.

"Hon, shut the door and come sit with us. I'll get you some lemonade and cookies, and then we can talk about the lucky man who's snagged our girl.” Mrs. M. stood and wiped her palms against her housecoat. “Did Billy finally come to his senses and commit?"

Chrissie's mind swirled. “I'm not—"

"Commitment is an oxymoron for Bill.” Patrick swung a chair around and straddled it, leaning forward and glaring at her. “But, yes. He's the lucky man."

The sarcastic overtone in Patrick's comments sucked the air from the room and slowed Chrissie's response.

Mrs. M. hugged Chrissie's shoulders and placed a kiss on her head. “Congratulations, sweetie. I was wondering when those visits would become permanent."

The lead weights on her hands and feet had her frozen in shock. Emotionally stumped, she shook her head, recalling what Bill had said as he'd left less than an hour ago.

"It's not like that,” she protested in a whisper.

"Like what?” he asked, raising a brow and smirking.

"A fling."

Shrugging, he laughed.

Damn! Why was she putting up with his crap? She didn't need this ridicule, and she wasn't going to take it. Not even from him.
Especially
, not from him. She deserved more, and he should know better.

"Screw you,” she said, rising from her seat.

"Obviously a convenient past time to resort to,” he retorted, displaying no remorse for the hurt he inflicted.

"I don't need this,” she muttered, turning and bumping in to a stunned Mrs. M. “I'm sorry. With the icy atmosphere in the room, I've lost my thirst for lemonade. I promise to visit once your son leaves and returns to his real life in New York."

Focused on the exit, Chrissie shuffled her feet as quick as possible, and inhaled deep when she stepped outside. How could Patrick think that she was so shallow? So cheap? After what they'd shared last night, he shouldn't have any qualms about her feelings. Should he?

Going for a ride would clear her mind and calm her down. She wanted to get away. To prioritize what was important in her life and how to deal with it all. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours and her emotions were in turmoil.

She reached her house and went inside to where Cagney waited by the door, swatting her tail side to side.

Chrissie collected the leash and her keys. “The man is fucking conceited, arrogant, and so full of himself. Why would he think that if I wanted a last fling before I settled down, I'd even consider him?"

Cagney barked, and Chrissie opened the door to let her out, but instead of rushing to the car, the dog stepped back and Patrick entered.

"You leaving again?” he asked, blocking the exit.

"What do you care?” Tears filled her eyes because she wanted him to care, wanted him to talk to her and make up.

The sun streaked over his broad shoulders and shadowed his face. She couldn't read his expression and had no idea what he was thinking. Her stomach clenched in anticipation as she waited for him to answer.

His fingers closed about her waist and pulled her to him. “Are you engaged to Bill?"

"No,” she breathed.

Without saying any more, his lips crushed her mouth and his tongue demanded entrance.

Obliging, she opened to him, locking her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in the hair falling on his collar.

Rough and consuming, his kiss ignited flames in her core and had her wanting more. She arched against him, fitting his erection snug against her belly and rubbing her swollen breasts over his muscled chest.

"Not here,” he growled, cupping her ass and lifting her while securing her legs behind his back. “This time, we take it to the bedroom."

He carried her upstairs, his lips searing a lush path over her throat and collar bone, reminding her of the oral talents he possessed.

Heat burned in her center, and she settled her weight on his cock, rubbing her cotton-clad pussy against his erect length. He pushed her up against the wall and tore the side of her panties, gathering them in his fist and tossing them across the room. His thumb pad stroked her clit, and his dark gaze pierced her soul as his little circular caresses drove her to the edge of insanity.

His hand stilled. “Tell me what you want, or I'm going to walk away and assume that you already got what you needed from me."

"No,” she whispered. “I want more.” She spread her hands inside his shirt and pushed it down over his arms, sending buttons across the floor. “I need you,” she added, lowering her mouth to his tan skin. “Make love to me."

Patrick groaned as her teeth scraped against his shoulder, sending volts of unleashed passion through his body. He wanted to take her against the wall; to bury his cock inside her, stroke every inch of her to oblivion, and make her forget about the rest of the world.

"You make me crazy, Lacy. Sometimes I need you so bad that it hurts.” He wanted to be the center of her universe, her world, her man.

Lacy's fingers closed around him, guiding him into her heavenly warmth.

"If you need me, and I take you, you will belong to me. Only to me,” he said, holding himself just outside her luscious hole.

"Yes,” she agreed, barely audible.

She wasn't married, and she hadn't consummated any engagement with any other man.

"You're mine. There is no going back, Lacy."

She had spent the night with him, and regardless of her initial motives, he would make sure he was the only man in her life from this point on. He wasn't going to let her go.

Opening her arms to him, she nodded.

"You are so beautiful,” he said, running his gaze over her body in a lazy caress. Taking a puckered nipple between his lips, he savored each moan that escaped her mouth as his tongue tasted her. Her sweet scent encompassed him, racing his pulse with the knowledge of her desire. Lacy wanted him, and he swore that she would only feel his touch on her smooth skin again.

Wet and hot, her pussy swallowed his finger and clamped around it. Feathering her full and pulsing clit with his thumb pad, he watched the climax build in her eyes as they clouded over, and he inserted a second finger.

Her tongue flickered over his skin. Her hands tangled in his hair. And then, as if instantaneously, her body tensed and a quick orgasm took her control.

Not allowing it to end, he entered her tight pussy and buried his cock in her warmth. This was where he belonged. In her ... with her ... consumed by Lacy.

She clamped around him, moaning his name, and digging her nails into his back. He pushed deep and rode the wave higher, pumping his passion and need in to the woman he loved. Branding her as his—forever!

Lacy traced soft circles on his chest. Her warm breath played over his heart, making his decision final.

"I won't share you, Lacy.” Patrick tightened his hold on her shoulder and crushed her softness against him. “You need to commit to me right now."

"Commit?” She looked up, her big brown eyes full of questions. “How can I commit to you if you won't be with me?"

"Why won't I be with you?"

"You're a city-slicker. The papers are full of your achievements and professional recognitions. I've been following your career, and Paddy, you've changed. You're not the boy next door any longer. You're a jet-setting executive with investors hanging on your every word. There is a different woman on your arm at each fancy function. So how can I compete with all that?"

"Compete?” He ran his palm down her back. “There is no competition. And I'm good enough at my work that I can shape and control it as I wish. With technology being what it is, I can live and headquarter anywhere I choose."

Lacy wet her swollen lips and placed a small kiss in the center of his chest. “Patrick, I'm a cop. A good cop. I've advanced in the department. I'm now off the street, and I'm writing training manuals for the new recruits. Do you know how good that is for my long term goals? I can't give it up and move away."

"First of all, I'm not asking you to give anything up. Second, there is no reason to move away.” Brushing his lips over the worry lines on her forehead, he paused to let his statement register. “I can work from anywhere. Being good at what I do, allows me the ability to name my terms and conditions.” She was now part of those terms and conditions. “Live with me, Lacy, and I'll do the moving."

"You'd do that for me?"

"In a heartbeat.” His cock stirred as she shimmied up his body to place her lips over the side of his neck. He tangled his fingers in her long locks and cupped the back of her head.

"I love you,” he added, guiding her mouth to his. “I've always loved you. Give us a chance."

Not waiting for her verbal response, he claimed her mouth and made slow, sensual love to the woman of his dreams. Each stroke, each taste, branded her as his, and then he exploded in her, knowing that she had complete possession of his heart and soul.

"You ... are ... an ... amazing ... lover,” she breathed, smiling up at him. “One day, when I get published, you're going to star in one of my novels as the bad cop reformed by the good one."

"I'm so glad that you haven't given up on your ambition to write."

"Never. My career is the best research, and I've finally finished and submitted my first manuscript."

"Then, use me. Use me all you want,” he said, pulling her back over his body. “Just promise me that we get to practice each love making scene over and over until we have all the details perfect."

"You won't feel resentful and restricted if you stay with a cop who is a struggling writer in a two restaurant town, Mr. City Slicker?"

"Not if you're my cop. And not if you make an honest man out of me and eventually have my babies."

"Babies?"

"Yes. Our babies.” He held her hand over his heart. “I want you to be my family. I want us to grow old together. And I want to practice making those perfect babies with you until you're ready for them."

"I'm ready,” she said in a wistful voice.