All I Need (Hearts of the South) (5 page)

“Yeah.” Although now all the intriguing possibilities pinged through his mind as well—Savannah above him, riding him, taking him deep on each stroke. He let out a shaky laugh and extended a hand. “Let me get those.”

She passed over the carton, and he curled his fingers about hers a moment before using their shared hold on the cardboard to draw her to him. Her eyes on him, that smile still curving her full mouth, she stepped into his space and lifted her face to his. He brushed his lips across hers, savoring the pliable feel of her mouth under his.

She rested a hand on his chest. “For the record, I like lots of things on top.”

He pulled away, enjoying the mirth that sparkled in her brown eyes. “I can’t wait to find out.”

“On pizza too.” She winked and released the beers to him. “Anything is fine, really, except mushrooms and anchovies.”

“We are in agreement on that.” He carried the six-pack through to the small kitchen and stowed it in the fridge. “You know anything about interviews?”

“I know sitting in on interview panels is the pits.” She leaned against the kitchen doorway. His gaze lingered over the curve of her hip. “Did you get a hit on one of the resumes you submitted?”

“The jail administrator’s position. They want me to come in tomorrow. I got the email before you arrived.” He rubbed at his jaw. “Hell, Savannah, I don’t even know if I have the right clothes.”

“Well, maybe we should figure that out.” Her husky laugh shimmered over him. “Show me to your closet.”

In his bedroom, he rested a forearm against the open closet door while she surveyed his meager wardrobe. He’d lived the last few months in loose athletic pants, only recently working his way back up to jeans.

“These still have the tags on them.” She held up a pair of gray dress slacks from the farthest corner of the closet.

“Christmas present from my mom.” A sheepish grin tugged at his mouth. “Forgot I had them.”

“She has good taste.” She flicked the price tag and hung the pants closer to the front.

“I could wear the red polo with those, right?”

Mouth open, she stared at him. “No.”

“Red and gray don’t go together?” He lifted a hand in confusion.

“You don’t wear a casual polo with those pants. Trust me.” She shook her head and rifled through his shirts. “Your mother didn’t teach you that?”

“She probably tried.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, amusement glinting in her eyes. “Are you telling me you were a difficult child?”

“I was hardheaded.” He straightened and rubbed a hand over his thigh. Difficult probably didn’t begin to cover it. He still didn’t get why his mama adored him the way she did. He couldn’t have been easy to raise.

“I can’t imagine.” With the wry rejoinder, she turned to face him, a white cotton buttondown in hand. Tags dangled from it as well. “This should work.”

She held the shirt up to his chest and smoothed it across his shoulders with one hand. The touch sparked along his nerve endings, and he sucked in a breath. Hell, she was barely touching him, but the soft contact made him hot and hungry for her. She stilled and lifted her eyes to his. The amusement faded from the brown depths, replaced with a sudden desire that kept him from catching his breath.

Wordlessly, she leaned in and meshed their mouths in a kiss completely unlike the simple caress they’d shared earlier. She opened her lips beneath his, the tip of her tongue darting across his bottom lip in a carnal invitation. Tangling a hand in her hair, he held her mouth under his to better explore the sweet secrets within. Curves pressed along his frame, breasts to his chest, hips cradling his. Tongues slid together, heat flushing his neck and chest, zinging straight down his spine to his balls.

She tasted good, all mint and sex, that flirty scent enveloping him as surely as her mouth took him. His erection grew, pushing against his zipper, and she tilted her hips closer on a sultry moan. He dropped his free hand to cup one lush cheek of her ass and tugged her nearer.

A cramp speared through his thigh, and he stiffened, a gasp tearing from his throat. “Fuck.”

He grabbed for the door to keep himself on his feet and ground his teeth at the tight agony rending the muscles surrounding the incision. He
hated
when this happened, and this was not the time, either.

“Whoa there.” She steadied him with warm hands at his waist. “Do you need to sit or walk?”

“Gotta stretch it.” Keeping a firm hold on the door, he lifted his foot behind him, grasped the ankle, and tugged his heel toward the back of his hamstring. “Jeez.”

She held him, fingers warm and strong. He puffed out a couple of long breaths and finally the cramp eased, leaving only a lingering ache in the muscle.

“Better?” she asked, massaging his waist as he lowered his foot to the floor again.

“Yeah.” He grimaced. “Guess that answers who gets to be on top.”

“It’ll heal.” She continued the strong, soothing strokes from hip to waist and back again. She cast a flirtatious smile up at him. “But I do like the top.”

“I’ll remember that.” He tested the muscles and winced.

She tilted her head toward the doorway. “Let’s get you to the couch, then order that pizza.”

He swallowed his pride and let her prop him up on the short walk to the living room. He’d worked too hard to get better to risk a fall. She settled him on the couch, tapped in their pizza order from her smartphone, grabbed both of them a beer, and started the DVD before making herself comfortable next to him, one hand a warm weight on his injured thigh.

Damn, but he was
not
going to let himself get used to the rightness of this scenario—kissing her, curling up together, getting all cozy. That was not the deal, no matter how great it felt in the moment.

Friendship, maybe some no-strings sex.

The memory of that kiss sparked in his mind. Definitely some no-strings sex, but on a night when his leg wasn’t acting up.

“You’re not hardheaded about the leg.” Her quiet observation cut across one of the twelve million previews that came before the film.

He glanced down. She gazed at him with serious eyes, and he shook his head. “No, not anymore. I was at first, when I was full of stupid male pride and convinced I was some invincible action hero. Tried to do too much too fast and tore my staples. Hence the infection and the second surgery. Decided I might better start listening to my doctors and therapists.”

She squeezed his knee. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“Me too.” He frowned, gaze on her graceful hand with its short, clean nails. “The situation has had its positives, though. I’m more focused on grad school than I was, and I had to take a good, hard look at my life. Probably made me really grow up.”

“You sound like my sister.” She circled a fingertip over his knee. “She had to almost lose everything that mattered before she really matured.”

He chuckled. “You probably wouldn’t have given me the time of day before, believe me.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” A winsome note colored her voice. She tightened her grip on his knee once more. “That pretty face of yours might have overcome the immaturity.”

This time he chuckled. “Pretty?”

Her laugh, clear and bell-like, bloomed between them. “Ruggedly pretty.”

“Thanks. I think.”

The doorbell forestalled her reply. She patted his leg and rose. “Bet that’s our dinner.”

He relaxed into the sofa and watched her sashay to the door. Yeah, the whole scenario felt good, but he was definitely not letting himself get used to this.

They ate pizza straight from the box, paying only scant attention to the adventure flick unfolding on the television. She tucked a foot under her, a sparkly sandal slipping to the floor, and licked a bit of sauce from her finger. With a slight scowl, she flicked a gesture at the screen. “If they are too stupid to realize it’s time to go when the military shows up, they deserve to die horribly. No, let’s run toward the alien invaders.”

With a chuckle, he set his beer aside and sank deeper into enjoying the moment. He liked her, liked how authentic and open she was. Why the hell hadn’t he dated someone like her before?

“You’d be surprised at how many people run toward a commotion.” He’d never gotten that when he was on patrol.

She slanted a look at him. “No, I wouldn’t. I work in an ER, remember? I get to treat the people who run to the fuss.”

“You don’t have to work in the ER.” He laid an arm along the back of the couch and twirled a stray lock of her dark hair around his finger. “There’s always private practice.”

“Please don’t ever let my father hear you say that. He’d like nothing better than to see me join his practice. I love him, but work with him every day? No.” She shuddered, but her lips twitched with a smile. “Besides, I like working the ER. It’s never the same two shifts in a row.”

“I can relate to that.” He tucked the silky strands behind her ear. “That’s what I liked about road work.”

“You miss it a lot, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged and trailed the back of his index finger along her cheek. “But maybe this admin job will pan out and I’ll like it just as much.”

“Do you come from a law-enforcement background?”

He laughed. “No. My dad was the sales manager at the Ford place forever, and my mama worked at the bank.”

“And you became a cop?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t pick a topic for my senior project, and my high school English teacher assigned me one.”

“Let me guess. Law enforcement.”

“You got it. I think she was trying to be funny. Barely passed the research paper, but I spent the second semester shadowing a couple of Dougherty County PD officers.” He grinned. “I was hooked. Got my associate in criminal justice at Darton, went to the academy, got hired on at Coney PD, then finished my bachelor’s part-time while I worked.”

She rested her arm along his, tracing the line of his biceps with a single finger. “Were you good at it?”

“At the beginning? Hell, no. It’s a wonder I didn’t get fired the first month.” He laughed, the memories sweet instead of bitter this time around. “But I got better. I’d just gotten promoted to Field Training Officer when I got shot.”

He didn’t bother to mention that the whole reason he’d ended up shot—well, other than the fact Harry Nix was an awful shot when he was plastered—had been because the rookie he’d been training hadn’t bothered to listen to any directions. The guy had barely lasted a week after Emmett’s shooting.

“So I take it you are not a daddy’s girl?” He ran his fingertip along her jaw. Man, she had the smoothest skin ever.

“No.” Her laugh was closer to a snort. “That would be my sister. I’m not anybody’s girl.”

He wouldn’t mind if she was his. The thought brought him up short. She didn’t want that, and neither did he.

He’d obviously been alone too long.

“I really should be going.” Her words brought him back, and he found her watching him with an ironic gaze. She leaned in and brushed her mouth across his, a fleeting caress with none of the tenderness or fire they’d shared earlier. “We need to do this again sometime.”

“Yeah.” Somehow or another, he’d spooked her, maybe let too much admiration show on his face. He started to push to his feet, but she forestalled him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Rest that leg.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her shuttered gaze. “I can see myself out. Good night.”

Long after the door had closed after her, he remained on the couch, movie playing in the background, his thoughts lingering on the softness of her skin and the way her mouth had felt against his.

* * * * *

Savannah had only been half-right about serving on an interview panel being the pits. Watching the three men in front of him scratch down notes on his last answer, Emmett stretched his leg and tried not to look like he was sweating bullets. Sitting in front of an interview panel was no cakewalk, either.

He didn’t remember being this anxious when he’d interviewed at Coney PD. Of course, he’d been young and dumb and probably too arrogant to realize he should be anxious. Silence stretched, and his nerves stretched with it.

Tick Calvert, who fulfilled the dual roles of chief investigator and chief deputy with the sheriff’s department, glanced from his notes to the other two men with him, then met Emmett’s gaze. “Would you give us a couple of minutes, Beck? You can wait in the multipurpose room. We won’t keep you long, I promise.”

“Yes, sir.” He rose from the chair and slipped from the room, letting the door close behind him. His heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to pound his ribs or sit like a stone in his gut. He crossed the hall to the nearly deserted squad room to lean awkwardly against the wall. Ignoring the curious glances from a couple of deputies wolfing down lunches while writing reports, he ran a finger under his starched collar.

Shit, this was ridiculous. Other jobs existed if he didn’t get this one.

The reassurance didn’t ease the knot in his stomach.

A soap-opera scene unfolded on the small screen across the room, a love triangle involving an emergency room staff, and he latched on to the distraction.
Wonder what Savannah’s doing?
He couldn’t see her indulging in any kind of workplace drama, not as no-nonsense as she was. No telling what she saw in the course of a day though—