For the Longest Time (28 page)

T
he snow fell in fat flakes, drifting past the windows of Two Roads as the women hurried to make last-minute adjustments.

“Sam, get out of the cookies! Do you seriously think I can't see you?” Emma gave her arm a smack as she walked by carrying yet another pot of poinsettias. She'd rearranged them a dozen times in the last hour, Sam thought. Why not one more?

Sam polished off the rest of the cookie, brushed off her hands, and looked around. “You know,” she said, “this is pretty classy for the first annual Harvest Cove Misfits Christmas Party. Maybe we should have gone more low-key. Plastic tablecloths. Staple up some of those Christmas lights that you can set to ‘seizure.'”

“You want that, you and Jake can do this in your garage next year,” Zoe said, making an adjustment to a painting that was already perfectly straight. “This isn't just a Christmas party. It's your coming-out party, and it's going to be special whether you like it or not.”

“Mean,” Aaron sang, gliding by. He'd changed the streak in his hair from pink to red for the occasion and was wearing the most god-awful Christmas sweater Sam had ever seen. He seemed to think it was hilarious. He
was also spending a lot of time looking out the window, since Ryan had accepted his invitation to come. She supposed this finally counted as a first date, though mentioning it to Aaron was just going to make him impossible. Well, more impossible.

“Sammy,” her mother called, waving her over to the largest of the paintings she'd done for the show. Sam obliged, spike heels clicking on the wood floor. She walked over to stand beside her mother, who slid an arm around her.

“This one,” she said. “This one is my favorite.”

“Mine too,” Sam said.

“Mine too,” said a warm voice at her ear. She turned her head to look at Jake, who gave her a lingering kiss. His hair was still a little mussed from when he'd caught her in the back room and tried to convince her to defile the sanctity of Zoe's desk. He hadn't convinced her . . . yet. But he'd had a good time trying.

He rested his hand on her shoulder, and her hand came up to cover his. The ring he'd presented her at Thanksgiving glittered and flashed in the light, a reminder of just how much she had to be thankful for this year. Some mornings she still had to remind herself that this was her life now—Jake warm in bed beside her, a cat on her head, a dog knocking over things on the dresser with his tail trying to wake everyone up.

It was perfect. She didn't just have her life back . . . she'd gotten her family back.

Even better, she'd gotten to add to it. And she was keeping them all.

“Here come the cars,” Emma called. “Looks like Shane and Fitz. And Jason.”

There was a distinct groan from Zoe's direction.

“Mom, Jo and Cathy are here, too. Oh my God, I hope we have enough food. And . . . Jake, did you tell Shane he could bring Big Al?”

Sam widened her eyes as she looked at him. The mischief in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I thought this was a Misfit Christmas Party. Do you want to hurt Big Al's feelings by leaving him out of that? He works really hard at being one.”

Sam shook her head as Zoe stalked by, making a decidedly un-Christmas-y gesture at her fiancé. “It's on now, Dr. Smith,” she said. “I know where you sleep.”

He chuckled. Andi gave her a kiss and hurried off to greet her friends. Sam leaned into Jake as he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. She leaned her head on his shoulder and looked at the painting she'd done just after she and Jake had gotten together for good. It was the Witch Tree, but as it had never been, the branches elongated and graceful, all curving to one side in some invisible wind. The leaves shimmered in shades of orange and copper and gold, brilliant against a sky that was aglow with dusk. And beneath it, nearly hidden in the tall grass, was an unmistakable figure, two tiny black ears and eyes like candles peering at them from his hiding place.

“What do you call this one again?” he asked. “
Bad Moon Rising
?”

She bumped his hip. “
New Moon
,” she said. “And he's not that bad. He deserves to be in there,” she said. “Loki started it all.”

“Hmm,” Jake said, turning her in his arms so that she was pressed against his heart, touching his nose to hers. “He continues to start things, too.”

“And yet you keep us.”

“I do, and I will,” Jake said, as their friends and family began to arrive and the sounds of their conversation mingled with the carols playing softly in the background. “You can be a misfit all you want, Sam Henry, as long as you stay mine.”

“Deal,” she said, and pulled him close for a kiss.

Continue reading for a special preview of the

next book in the Harvest Cove series,

 

EVERY LITTLE KISS
!

 

Available from Signet Eclipse in March 2015.

B
reaking up a wild party in his own neighborhood wasn't Seth Andersen's idea of a fun Saturday night, but he found himself trudging up the walk toward the door of 121 Juniper a little after midnight anyway. It wasn't a big deal—he'd nearly been home when the call had come in, technically off-duty but still in uniform, and Jess, the dispatcher, knew he'd take it. Harvest Cove was a small place. He could manage what would probably amount to nothing more than a “knock it off” conversation with the guy who lived three houses down. Hell, the sight of a uniformed officer at the door was usually enough to drive the point home, and he'd had an impromptu cookout with Aaron Maclean only a week ago. This shouldn't be a problem.

The little saltbox, not too different from his own, sounded like it contained several hundred more people than it ought to. Seth was halfway to the door when it opened on its own. At first, he thought Aaron had seen him and was coming out to save some time, but there was nothing masculine about the figure that stumbled through the door and nearly toppled into the bushes. Nothing masculine, Seth realized, but everything familiar.

It was just a little sad that he had the curves of a woman he'd never spoken to so thoroughly memorized.

“Emma?”

He blurted her name before he could think better of it, and the blank look she gave him as she shoved her hair out of her face only confirmed what he'd suspected: He'd been in Harvest Cove for six months, and Emma Henry still had no clue who he was. Maybe it was the time he'd spent in the Army. . . . He'd gotten good at blending in with the scenery when he had to. But Seth thought it was more likely that Emma just didn't notice anything that wasn't already on her to-do list. She sure seemed that type, and nothing he'd heard about her had ever changed the impression. Everything from her tailored suits to the way she clipped around in those sexy heels screamed
all business, all the time
.

Not tonight, though. Turned out, she owned a pair of jeans after all . . . and from the smell, he thought she might have been wearing as much beer as she'd imbibed.

“Something wrong, Officer?” Emma straightened, shoved her long dark hair out of her face again and put on what he expected she thought was an innocent expression. Not a bad effort, really. But her inability to stay still while maintaining her balance was kind of ruining the effect.

“Nothing too bad, Miss Henry,” Seth replied, remembering his manners this time as he ambled forward. He was just some random cop to her. Probably just as well. “We've had a few complaints about the noise from the neighbors. I came by to let Mr. Maclean know that he needs to either calm things down or break it up.”

“Oh. Are we that loud?”

“Yes. Yes, you are.”

“Wow. I'm sorry.”

Her eyes rounded. The light out here was dim, but Seth knew from his previous almost-encounters with her that they were a startling forget-me-not blue made even more striking by her fair skin and dark hair. Usually, she had all that hair pulled back, but he liked it this way, with the thick waves down past her shoulders. Some of the ends were damp, though, and Emma was having a hard time keeping it out of her face. She shoved at it again, frowning, her already full lower lip plumping further when she stuck it out to concentrate.

She was cute. And really, really drunk. It seemed so utterly out of character for her that he had to work at suppressing his amusement. As he got closer, he could see that her shirt was even damper than her hair, the dark fabric clinging to her breasts. He couldn't help but notice—her curves were impossible not to notice, even at his most distracted. Still, her bedraggled, slightly bewildered appearance left him feeling more protective than turned-on. She needed to be home, tucked in and sleeping this off, not wandering outside at this hour. Bad things happened everywhere, even in the Cove.

Seth sighed inwardly. His bed was looking farther away than he'd hoped.

“Do we know each other?” Emma asked, wrinkling her nose and looking utterly confused.

“No.”

“How'd you know my name, then?”

“The Cove's not that big, Miss Henry,” he said. “You run the party-planning business down on the square. I've only been here for six months, but knowing who's who is part of my job.”

That seemed to satisfy her, at least well enough to change the subject. “Oh. Well, Officer . . .”

“Andersen.”

She blinked and appeared to mull that over for a moment. “Okay,” she finally said, and Seth knew she had tried—and failed—to place what should have been a familiar last name. “You're not going to arrest anybody, are you? It'll ruin my sister's party if you do.”

“Your sister's party?”

One dark brow arched. “She's getting
married
.”

He had to swallow a laugh. Not everyone could be wasted and beer-stained and still pull off “haughty” this well.

“Ah,” Seth replied. Now her presence—not to mention her condition—made sense. “Bachelorette party, then.”

“Yeah.”

Seth's eyes went to the door, considering it. “Please tell me there aren't any strippers in there.”

She snorted. “If there were naked people in there, I would know. I mean, I think. I
hope
there aren't any naked people in there.”

Her small smile hinted at the promise of an absolutely gorgeous full one. He'd never seen her smiling. But he'd certainly like to.

Jesus, Andersen, just get this over with and go home.

He cleared his throat. “Well, whatever the stripper situation is, I need to speak to Mr. Maclean, Miss Henry. Are you heading back in?”

She hesitated, then turned her head to look at the house. “I guess.”

His eyes narrowed. “You weren't planning to drive home, were you?”

“No! Why would you think I'd do something that
stupid? I don't even have my keys!” The words were slightly slurred, but they were loaded with real offense. He wanted to believe her. He didn't want her to be the kind of person who did the sorts of things that so often left behind devastating messes for people like him.

Seth didn't know why it mattered. It just did.

“It's not an unreasonable question, Miss Henry. You wouldn't be the first person to make that mistake.”

Emma glared at him a moment, then closed the distance between them, weaving a little but maintaining her bearing until she was glaring up at him, close enough to reach out and touch.

“Listen, Officer Ab . . . Alf . . . Amster . . . Whatever,” she said, waving her hands dismissively before settling them on her hips.

Seth tried not to let his eyes linger, but it was tough. He was a sucker for an hourglass figure, and hers was just about perfect.

“
I
am a
respectable
businesswoman
in this community,” she informed him, the picture of angry, wounded pride. “I don't know who the hell you are, but just because you get to carry a gun and handcuffs and whatever doesn't give you the right to . . . to impugn my integrity.”

He found himself caught between wonder and gut-busting laughter. It took everything he had not to give in to the latter.

“I'm not impugning anything, Miss Henry,” he answered while struggling to keep a straight face. He wondered what other fifty-cent words she liked to throw around when she was mad. The woman was probably a veritable dictionary when pissed off and sober. He found the idea ridiculously sexy. “I'm just concerned for your safety. I don't want you to get hurt.”

The change in Emma's expression was instant. Her eyes widened, anger vanishing to become innocent surprise. Her lips parted, just a bit, as she looked up at him and became the picture of vulnerability.

“Really?” she asked.

Seth blinked. He'd dealt with plenty of drunks in his line of work, but he was having a hell of a time finding his footing with this one. She'd been surly and sweet in equal amounts, shifting between the two fast enough to give him whiplash. Right now, though, there was something winsome about the way she looked up at him—something that pushed a few buttons he hadn't expected to have pushed tonight or anytime soon. Those buttons had gotten pretty rusty, but it seemed like they were still there.

He guessed he should have been glad he could still feel attraction like this, like a hot punch straight through his chest. Maybe he would have been, if the sensation had ever foretold anything but trouble.

Since she appeared to be waiting for an answer, Seth nodded his head. “Really,” he said.

She swayed for a moment, her gaze inscrutable. Then she smiled, that big smile he'd been waiting for that crinkled her nose. For a few long seconds, all Seth could do was stare. Whatever he might have imagined, this was better. As beautiful as she was, that smile was like someone had turned a light on inside of her.

“You should smile more often,” he said softly, realizing too late that the words hadn't stayed in his head where they belonged. At least they didn't seem to faze Emma, who simply shrugged, nearly losing her footing in the process. Seth moved by instinct, reaching out to catch her beneath the arms before she went down on the
walk. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt as she regained her balance. When she looked up at him this time, her face was only inches from his. He caught the faint smell of her perfume, something light and musky, a whiff of exotic smoke. Its sensuality was a startling contrast to Emma's normally buttoned-up image. A hint, maybe, of the woman beneath.

Do. Your. Job. Andersen.

“You have pretty eyes,” she sighed, fingertips running down the front of his shirt to his hips. His stomach muscles flexed in reaction, and his breath caught in his throat. Parts of him that had no business stirring when he was working stirred. And that's what this was—part of his job. This would be a good time to remember that.

“Thanks,” Seth replied, forcing out the word while removing his hands and stepping back. “I need to—”

“Will you take me home?”

It took him a few seconds to close his mouth. “What?” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. She couldn't possibly have said that. If she had, she couldn't possibly have meant it. And if she had, there was no way he could say yes, because that would require a level of awfulness he was nowhere near achieving.

Emma looked up at him with those big luminous eyes, and he wondered whether he'd somehow taken a wrong turn and landed in Hell.

“I want to go home. I can't drive. Can you take me?”

“Uh . . . why don't you just . . . hang on a sec?” he said. “Stay here.” This was not his problem. This was Aaron's problem, because it was Aaron's party. He walked away quickly, trying not to run, thinking of every unappealing thing he could to erase the wildly erotic images trying to cascade through his brain. He blamed his fatigue. The
last few nights hadn't been good ones, sleepwise, and it seemed like that had caught up to him all at once. How else to explain his reaction to her? She was a beautiful woman, sure. But while he might not be Channing Tatum, he hadn't exactly had a hard time finding a date when he'd wanted one.

The front door opened again just as he reached it, and Seth was relieved to see his neighbor emerge, purple-streaked hair and all. It was a wonder they got along as well as they did. The only art Seth had ever spent much time looking at was World War II pinup girls, and Aaron had been very up-front about the fact that the feminine form, outside of a basic aesthetic appreciation, was not his thing.

As long as Aaron kept his lawn mowed and wasn't a complete jerk, Seth didn't much care who the man brought home.

“Emma?” Aaron looked past him at first, to where Emma had just been standing. “Are you okay? Zoe said that somebody told her you didn't feel good and— Oh. Hey, Seth.” He watched Aaron take in the uniform, then wince. “Oh. I guess it's Officer Seth tonight. This is about the noise, isn't it? Sorry.”

“Yeah.” Seth shifted his weight from one foot to the other and thought again of his bed. His body was telling him it would actually stay asleep for a solid block of time tonight. That was, if he could ever get to his bedroom. “We've had a few complaints. I said I'd stop by on my way home to let you know, since I didn't think you'd have a problem taking care of it.”

Aaron shook his head with a sigh. “No, of course not. This got to be a little bigger than I was expecting.” He swept an arm toward the cars parked up and down the
street. “Guess it's what happens when you throw a big party in a small town. The whole world shows up. It was supposed to be ladies only, but we've gotten a few infiltrators.”

Seth snorted. “Uh, you might want to look in a mirror.”

“I do. Frequently,” Aaron replied with a flash of a grin. Then he shrugged. “I'm the host. I get a free pass.”

Lucky bastard.

“You want me to help clear everyone out?” Seth asked, relieved when Aaron immediately shook his head no.

“Nah, I can handle it. Sam and her friends are staying over. Everyone else can leave the same way they got here. I was starting to worry about what was going to get broken first anyway. House parties are a lot more fun when they're not at
your
house, you know?”

“I can imagine.”

Aaron arched an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Not a partyer, Officer?”

“Very funny. And, no, not so much. Used to be, but I guess I kind of outgrew the appeal.”

“Hmm. You're kind of young to sound like such an old fart.” Aaron tilted his head, regarded him with a fair amount of curiosity, but then returned his attention to the woman farther down the walk. “Emma, why don't you come back in?” Aaron called. “I don't think sleeping on the concrete is a great idea.”

Aaron pursed his lips and exhaled loudly through his nose. “Look I hate to ask, but can you watch her while I kick everyone out? Even if you can just get her into the grass so no one steps on her . . .”