A Stranger's Touch (25 page)

“I’m not.”

“ESP?”

“Nope. Your car is parked in my driveway.”

Maggie nodded. How many times would she fall into her own trap?

Stafford moved away from the door, leaving it open. The message was clear—come in if you want to, leave if you want to. And I don’t care which.

Maggie had spent the better part of the day begging Owens to tell her where Stafford lived, so she might as well take advantage of the knowledge. She stepped through the entrance, closing the door behind her.

The place was huge. Not a home at all but a warehouse.

A section of the large room contained tools, wood, and half-finished projects. Down the middle, a large strip of thick plastic separated the workspace from the living area. This other half sported old, makeshift furniture. And not a lot of it—a bed, a desk, a small fridge, a table, and a chair. It looked like their owner didn’t plan to stay long. The packed duffel bag on the floor was another clue.

“I just poured myself a scotch, if you’d like it.” He gestured toward an overturned cardboard box—an impromptu coffee table.

“Thanks. I may need a drink.”

“If it’s that difficult to be in the same room as me, why are you here?”

Oh, God.
He’d totally misinterpreted what she’d said. She’d come to smooth things over, not antagonize him. “No, that’s not it at all. More the reverse. You might need a drink after being with
me
.”

That came out equally harsh. He looked as though he’d tasted something bad, like the hard spaghetti she’d heard about.

“Let me start again.” She scooped up the scotch, had a small sip, and made another attempt.

“I’ve come to apologize. I doubted you, after you’d done everything to reassure me. And you were right. All the stuff about Angela, where to find Davie—you were one hundred percent right. And I couldn’t believe you. You had to keep proving it to me. Again and again. And I want to thank you. For everything. For finding my child. For taking care of me. For living with my craziness, my doubts, my insults. I want you to know how truly grateful I am.”

She stood there, expectant, waiting for him to say something.
Anything.
“You could help me here, a little,” she prodded.

His brows rose. “What would you have me do?”

“Accept. Say, ‘You’re welcome.’”

“You’re welcome,” he repeated with a deadpan delivery.

Maggie shook her head. “Just what I need. A funny psychic.”

“It’s a defense mechanism.”

She realized the truth of his words. He’d always used humor to underplay his gift. The life he’d had, his upbringing, must have included one rejection after another. No wonder he’d taken hers so hard.

“I guess I have a few defensive tactics myself. I suppose that’s why I never thanked you for the nights we spent together. When you were so kind, so loving, so...absolutely incredible.”

His lips twitched. “I wasn’t sure you’d noticed.”

“I noticed, all right. I might have been distraught but I wasn’t dead.” She sobered. “That’s another thing you were right about. Making love was life affirming. I think that’s why I reached out to you. Maybe why we reached out to each other.”

“I hope that’s not all it was.” He eased the drink from her hands, ice clinking against the glass.

“Me, too. In fact, I was hoping you’d be interested in a repeat performance.”

He took a step toward her so they were chest to chest. “Recreational sex? Is that what you’re offering me?”

Man, he made it sound
so
good.

“No.” At the look of confusion on his face, she clarified. “Yes, to the sex. No, to the recreational part.” She took a breath and shared her dream. “I want more.”

He glanced down at his duffel bag. “I can’t give you more. Not right now. I’ve got a vendetta to settle south of the border.”

“I’ll wait.” She slid her fingers through his thick hair. “But catching Morley—is that really going to do it for you?”

He sighed and looked up to the ceiling. “Maggie, you got closure. You got your son back.”

“Because of
you
.” Maggie grasped his broad shoulders, waiting until he looked at her again before speaking. “Stafford, you saved three people up north—Angela, Davie and me. Doesn’t that ease your guilt? Just a bit?”

She moved closer and softened her voice to a whisper. “Even if you find your sister’s murderer, even if you bring him to justice...Brianna will still be gone.”

He turned away, but not before she’d noticed his pained expression. It killed her to see him hurting. She reached for his hand and brought it to her lips.

“But
I’m
here,” she told him and, for the first time since she’d known him, a fraction of the sorrow creasing his brow evaporated.

“Since when did you become a philosopher?”

“I learned a lot on our journey. I realized I didn’t want to be my father. I don’t want to come home after a fourteen-hour day to find my little boy’s life passing by without being around to enjoy it. And I don’t want to spend my life focused on work and not on living. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not going to give up my job. But it’s only
part
of my life.” She let out a grunt of frustration. “I’m not making this sound right at all.”

Stafford put the drink to one side and took her hands in his. “You’re doing fine.”

He cupped her face, moving closer until their lips touched. He tasted warm and spicy, like the scotch. She opened her mouth and invited him in. With a growl of approval his tongue met hers.

She eased herself back against the paper-strewn desk. His fingers walked up her ribs until they found her breasts. Her nipples hardened with his touch, a beautiful ache. She reached for one of his hands and coaxed it between her thighs.

“I thought you were reserved.”

“The way I feel,” she panted, “I don’t have time for reservations. I’m not looking for finesse, buddy. Just get the job done.”

He complied, pulling down the zipper on her trousers and reaching his fingers past her panties and into the moistness waiting for him. She let go a gasp, arching her back to take him in further.

“I want you. All of you. Now.”

“So demanding. You even talk like a cop,” he told her, still joking, though his ragged breath betrayed his arousal. “We’ll move to the bed. I think I’ve got some condoms there.”

“Here. Now,” she ordered. “I’ve some in my purse.”

“Sounds like you weren’t going to take
no
for an answer.”

Without removing his hand from his pleasing work, he brushed his free arm across the desk, the papers falling to the floor with a swoosh. She heard a rustle as he went through her
purse, then the tear of a wrapper, and the zip of his fly.

She felt herself airborne, lifted and repositioned on the desk. The next moment she was gasping as he moved on top of her. And inside her. She came instantly, biting down on his shirt to muffle her cries.

“You didn’t wait for me,” he chided.

“Give me a minute,” she breathed. “I could go for seconds.”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

She experienced another flying moment and came to land on the bed, her back to him, her hands braced on his knees. He entered her again, deeper and harder than before. With nothing to bite down on, her cries of pleasure came out uncensored.

One of his hands reached around and cupped her breast, the other found the mound of flesh at her core and stroked. Both the movement of his hand and the thrusts inside of her matched her rhythm, beat for beat.

She added her own voice to the music, repeating his name, like a chant, like a mantra. When his pace quickened, she could no longer talk. No longer form words. Her breath came out in short gasps, the sweat dripping from her forehead into her eyes.

Not tears.
No more tears.

Again, she came. And after a moment, his body tightened and released. He pulled her back against him, resting on the bed together, him spooning her.

“Wow,” she said.

“You’re a master of understatement.”

She smiled. Time for more truths. “I guess you know…I’m crazy about you.”

“I’m starting to get that impression.”

She bit her lip. Should she say it? “I know what I’m about to tell you is dangerous. It’s made lesser men run in fear...”

“You’re pregnant?”

She laughed.

“You
are
?”

Maggie swiveled to face him. She noted the twinkle in his eyes, one-third apprehension, the rest pure excitement. A good sign for the future. “I’m laughing because you are so wrong, Mr. Psychic.” She sobered. “Or maybe you know something I don’t. It’s a little early to tell.”

“What’s going to make me run then?”

She paused, wetting her lips. It was now or never. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

He was silent. Had she gone too far? Revealed too much?

A soft kiss grazed her neck. Moisture trickled down her cheek.
A drop of sweat? A tear?
His voice was husky when he answered. “Tell me when you know for sure.”

“At this rate, I’m going to know very soon.”

He kissed her and snuggled closer. “I think I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you on the station’s steps.”

“Before you collapsed and turned into sleeping beauty?”

“I never actually lost con—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know, I know.” She scrambled to get up but the big arm across her hip kept her in place.

“Where are you going?”

“I have a son to meet, remember?”

He released her and helped her sit. “Off to the school then?”

“Off home. Davie took the bus this morning. Insisted on it. And he wanted his own key for the house. He says he’s a big boy and can take care of himself.” Her voice faltered, remembering the bitter-sweet moment. Her little guy was growing up fast.

She moved to the edge of the bed. A strong hand pulled her back. “Maggie, it might happen again. You might be late. You can’t live with that hanging over your head. It wasn’t your fault.”

Maggie drew Stafford close. “I know. And I’m not going to beat myself up about it. Not anymore. You see, all my life, I’ve been trying to live up to someone else’s expectations. To please everybody else. That’s over.”

“
What?
You’re not going to try to please me?” he asked in mock indignation.

She gave him a playful swat. “I became a cop to impress my dad, and he isn’t even here to see it. And I messed up my marriage to do it too. I guess it wasn’t as important to me as it should have been.” She eased out a breath. “Worst of all...I messed up with Davie.”

“You’ve done great. He obviously adores you.” Stafford found the sensitive spot on her collarbone and nibbled at it. “Just so you know...he’s not alone.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into him, moaning with pleasure. “You make it very hard to concentrate.”

“Just concentrate on being Maggie. Everything else will follow.”

She kissed him, breaking it off as her blood started to heat. She replaced her lips with her index finger. “Later,” she whispered.

“I’m counting on it.” He moved off the bed and tucked his shirt into his pants. “Let’s go.”

Maggie leapt up, unable to stop her heart from hoping. “You’re coming, too?”

“I figure Davie and I should get to know one another better. Unless you think it’s too soon.”

“I think it’s great. But I’ll warn you, he’s expecting McDonald’s tonight.”

Stafford chuckled. “McDonald’s sounds good to me. I’ll feel like I’m part of...”

A frown appeared on his face. Maggie kissed him again to brush it away. “A family?”

He smiled then broke the mood by moving toward the phone. “Have I got time for a quick call?”

Maggie glanced at her watch. “Of course. Who are you phoning?”

“Owens. I was going to drive to Montana now, but he’s right. A fresh start in the morning makes more sense.” He locked his eyes on her, his smoldering with the promise of a late night filled with passion. The first of many. “A fresh start for me in every way.”

About Roxy Boroughs and
A Stranger’s Touch

Things have changed since I wrote
A STRANGER’S TOUCH.
Maggie’s police station is no longer situated in the downtown core, Calgary officers now wear black instead of navy blue, and the last Canadian penny was minted in May 2012.

The Northwest Territories have also undergone a huge change. The ferry ride Maggie, Stafford and little Davie took across the McKenzie River to Fort Providence has been replaced by the kilometer-long Deh Cho Bridge, giving inhabitants of Yellowknife and the North Slave region their first year-round link to the rest of Canada.

To find out more about me and my other titles, swing by my
Website
or visit me on
Twitter
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Facebook
and my
Amazon Author Pages
. Or contact me at [email protected].

If you enjoyed
A STRANGER’S TOUCH
, please help other readers find it by recommending it to friends or writing a review. And keep reading for an excerpt of
A STRANGER’S KISS.

PRAISE FOR
A STRANGER’S KISS

“Roxy Boroughs has it all—humor, suspense, and the kind of raw emotion that makes romantic suspense worth reading. This genre has a bright new star.”

— Lecia Cornwall author of
The Price of Temptation
,
All the Pleasures of the Season
, and
Secrets of a Proper Countess
, an RT Reviewers’ Choice nominee.

“Packed with romance, suspense, and a happily-ever-after guaranteed to leave you laughing and crying,
A Stranger’s Kiss
had me riveted from the opening page!”

— Julie Rowe author of
IceBound
and
North of Heartbreak
.

Excerpt from A STRANGER’S KISS:

Sam Hutchinson, a successful lawyer, is devastated by the murder of his son. Hoping to gain closure by learning more about the suspected killer, Sam traces the murderer’s roots to Bandit Creek, Montana.