Tempting Alibi (2 page)

“What time was this, Sheriff?” Michaela asked.

In surprise, they both turned toward her.

“About eight,” Sheriff Hill grunted.

“Well, rest easy then, sir, because Scott was with me.”

Scott’s mouth dropped open but he snapped it shut before the sheriff swiveled back

toward him.

The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Is that right?”

Before he could answer, Michaela interrupted. “That
is
right. I’ll head down to the

station right now and make an official statement if you’d like. I’ll even call my brother

and have him meet me there in case I need
legal
representation.” Her voice was

unexpectedly haughty.

The sheriff didn’t even glance at her. “That won’t be necessary. You haven’t seen

the last of me,” he muttered to Scott before stalking from the building.

Scott turned his gaze on Michaela, wondering what the hell she was doing. She

pushed the paperwork and her keys toward him. “I get off work at four. I’ll be back to

pick up my car then.”

Before he could string two words together, she’d turned on her heel and was out

the door. The last glimpse he got was of that tight backside of hers strutting across the

street. Her yoga studio was the next block over and it wasn’t too cold so he knew she

wouldn’t have a problem walking. Still, he wished he’d have offered to drive her or

something.

Why the hell had she told the sheriff he’d been with her last night? He wasn’t guilty

of anything, but she didn’t know that. Scott was from the wrong side of the tracks and

she was most definitely from the right side. Her family was well-known and respected

throughout the county so he knew she wasn’t giving him an alibi simply so he’d fix her

car for free. Just what was that little vixen up to?

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Tempting Alibi

Michaela frowned when she heard her doorbell ring. Her brothers weren’t

supposed to stop by until Saturday and she wasn’t expecting anyone else. It was after

dark and her family knew to call first. Of course they didn’t always listen. Her feet were

silent along the wooden hallway until she reached the front door.

When she peered through the peephole, her heart skipped a beat. It was Scott. All

six feet of him. He hadn’t been at the shop earlier when she’d picked up her car. One of

his guys had given her little Volkswagen Beetle a clean bill of health—free of charge.

But Scott had been nowhere to be seen. The disappointment she’d experienced had been

surprisingly acute.

Glancing down at herself, she cringed. She wore a pair of old, faded jeans, a plain

white t-shirt and no bra. She thought about racing upstairs to put one on but was afraid

he’d be gone by the time she got back.

Taking a calming breath, she opened the door. Her eyes widened when she realized

he had a small bouquet of daffodils and a bottle of wine. She couldn’t remember the last

time a man had given her flowers. “Hey, neighbor.”

“Hi.” Scott smiled—sort of—for the first time since she’d met him, and a tiny

dimple appeared in his left cheek. The action softened his sharp features and made her

stomach do annoying little flip-flops.

It appeared he wasn’t going to speak so she broke the silence. “Are those for me?”

“Oh right. Yeah.” He practically shoved them at her but didn’t make a move to step

inside.

Okay, so apparently he needed some help. Normally she liked a man to take charge,

but good Lord, she wanted Scott O’Callaghan in a bad way so she’d make an exception.

“I’m going to put these in some water. Would you like to come in?”

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Savannah Stuart

He raked a hand through his dark hair and nodded. “Yeah.”

Without waiting for him, she turned and headed back down the hallway toward

her kitchen. She heard the door shut behind him, then his heavy boots thud along the

floor. As she pulled out a vase from one of the cabinets, she glanced over her shoulder

to find him checking out her ass. Grinning to herself, she quickly averted her gaze then

filled up the vase with water. At least she knew he was interested.

She placed the flowers in the middle of her round kitchen table and motioned for

him to sit. “Do you want something to drink?”

He shook his head but sat. And he still held on to that bottle of wine. She assumed

it was for her but wasn’t going to ask.

“So, why are you here?” Might as well get right to the point.

His dark eyes narrowed on her face for a moment. Then that unreadable mask slid

back in place. “Why’d you lie to the sheriff today?”

Michaela tried to ignore the heat she could feel creeping into her cheeks. She didn’t

want to sound like some sort of stalker but she needed to come clean. “I saw you last

night working out on your porch and you were outside for over an hour around the

time he mentioned. Besides, I knew you wouldn’t steal anything.”

His dark eyebrows snapped down in confusion. “How can you know that?”

She shrugged. “I just do. You don’t rip off any of your customers and I know the

sheriff’s nephew is losing money at his auto shop because of you.”

It was nearly imperceptible, but his eyes flared with disbelief.

She decided to answer his unspoken question. “It’s a small town and people talk.

They’d rather come to you than to that lying bastard, Frank Hill. My guess is he sent his

uncle, the
good
sheriff, to mess with you. He’s another crooked bastard.” Elections were

coming up and her oldest brother was working on a campaign to get one of their uncles

elected. For the past few elections there simply hadn’t been any options other than

Sheriff Hill, but her family and a few others knew it was time for a change.

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Tempting Alibi

Scott hadn’t even thought about that. As a teenager, before he’d joined the Marines,

he’d gotten into his fair share of trouble boosting cars. Nothing he ever did any time for,

but he just figured that’s why the sheriff had been giving him so much grief lately. Old

grudges or some other bullshit. This revelation actually made more sense.

As he stared into Michaela’s pale eyes, he managed to get it together. In all his

thirty-one years he’d never had a problem talking to women. He unclenched his hand

from the bottle and slid it across the table to her. “Thank you…for what you did. You

saved me a big headache. I’ve seen you drinking wine on your back porch sometimes.

Wasn’t sure what you liked, but the lady at Tessa’s Wine Mart said it was good.” He

shrugged as he trailed off. Hot damn, he managed three full sentences. That must be

some sort of record.

She looked just as surprised as he felt. Her soft lips curved up into a pretty smile

and her cheeks stained an even darker shade of pink. “Thanks. You want a glass—or

I’ve got beer if you’d prefer.”

“Beer’s fine.” He stood and pushed his chair back. “Where’s your bottle opener? I’ll

pour you a glass.”

She pointed to the drawer next to her sink as she opened her refrigerator. As he

retrieved the opener, he glanced around her kitchen. Natural wood flooring, darker

wood cabinets—with a built-in wine rack—copper pots hanging from a pot rack over

the center island and terra-cotta utensil holders. He didn’t know shit about styles but he

thought it was called French country or something. Whatever it was, it fit her. Classic

and beautiful.

“I’ll meet you on the back porch,” she said as she opened the back door and

disappeared from sight.

Once he’d poured her a glass, he found her sitting on the cushioned porch swing

facing the lake. He placed her drink next to his beer on the glass table in front of them

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Savannah Stuart

before sitting beside her. The swing creaked slightly, but it was sturdy. When he

glanced at her, he found her staring at him with a curious expression on her face.

For the first time in over a decade he felt like a randy teenager with a crush.

Michaela Miller was so far out of his league it wasn’t even a little funny. He’d grown up

in a trailer park on the outskirts of town and she’d grown up in a fucking mansion. One

of those historical homes right smack-dab in the middle of downtown. What the hell

was he supposed to talk to her about? He cleared his throat. “Temperature’s supposed

to drop about twenty degrees tonight.”

“Are we really going to talk about the weather?” The question was said softly and

with a slight trace of humor. But there was no mistaking the desire in her eyes.

His abs clenched as her pale eyes flared a shade darker. With the moon and stars

above, they had the perfect amount of illumination. Everything about the moment was

perfect. He didn’t want to ruin it by opening his mouth. Probably because he always

said the wrong thing. When he was a kid, talking usually got him a beating from his old

man. So, he’d learned to keep his mouth shut. Then in the Corps, he’d been a sniper,

which meant missions by himself for months at a time. What the hell did he need words

for anyway? The way Michaela was looking at him now made him realize she didn’t

want to talk either.

That was good. Very good. He might not be good with words, but he was good

with his mouth.

Leaning forward, he reached out and cupped her jaw. His grip was gentle. If she

wanted to pull away, he wouldn’t stop her. But she didn’t. Instead, those perfect lips of

hers parted invitingly and her breathing became uneven.

His cock pressed painfully against his zipper as his gaze zeroed in on that full

mouth. When her pink tongue darted out and moistened her lips, he had to bite back a

groan. He could only imagine what it would feel like to have her tongue lick and kiss

his shaft.

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Tempting Alibi

He’d spent the past seven months acting like a coward and he wasn’t going to pass

up this opportunity. It was as if someone had given him the keys to the city. Closing the

distance between them, he covered her mouth with his.

She tasted like strawberries. Maybe she’d been eating fruit before he came by. As

his tongue rasped against hers, his cock jutted forward as if it had a mind of its own.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and moved a few inches closer. When he

did, she moaned a throaty sound that went straight to all his nerve endings. It was too

soon, but before he could change his mind, he dropped his hand, cupping her head, and

grasped her hips. Still kissing her, he pulled her over his lap so that she straddled him.

She let out a surprised cry when his hips jerked against hers.

She pulled her head back a fraction and simply stared at him. For once, it seemed

the redhead was speechless.

Her hard nipples were visible through her t-shirt. Teasing him. Taunting him.

Clearly she’d temporarily lost her mind and he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity

to see her breasts. On more than one occasion he’d jerked off to the fantasy of Michaela

stretched out under him. On top of him. It didn’t matter. In all those fantasies he’d

wondered about her nipples. The size, the shape, the color.

It was likely too soon to make another move, but he didn’t want to stop touching

her. He grasped the hem of her shirt and slowly started to push it up. When she lifted

her arms above her head he didn’t waste time. He finished tugging it off and his breath

caught in his throat as he drank in the sight of her.

Her teardrop-shaped breasts were perfection. Slightly bigger than he’d realized.

And her nipples were a unique rose color. A little darker than pink, but not quite red.

Like little candies for him to suck on. They peaked even harder under his gaze. When

she went to cover herself, he circled both her wrists with his hands and held them at her

side. Not hard, but enough so that she couldn’t move.

Meeting her gaze, he could see uncertainty on her face and that surprised the hell

out of him. He didn’t know how to tell her she had nothing to be insecure about so he

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Savannah Stuart

leaned forward and stroked his tongue over one of the hardened buds. As she trembled

under his kisses, he let her hands go.

Michaela couldn’t believe she was sitting on her back porch, half-naked with Scott.

It was all too surreal and wonderful. He might be shy but he sure wasn’t acting that

way right now.

When he raked his teeth over one of her nipples, she clutched on to his hard

shoulders and grinded her hips against him. An unbearable heat burned low in her

belly. Her panties were completely damp and all he’d done was kiss her breasts.

If he was this good with his mouth, no wonder he rarely talked. The man didn’t

need to. His tongue swiped around her areola, then he kissed a moist path on the

underside and the sides of her breast. He wasn’t leaving anything untouched. Almost as

if he were branding her.

The thought sent a shiver rolling over her. As he teased her with his tongue, he

palmed her other breast.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, she watched as he strummed her nipple. He had a

tattoo of some sort of snake that curled around his forearm all the way down to his

wrist. Watching it move as he continued his heavenly assault turned her on even more.

From his mouth and fingers alone she was so close to coming. Something she