The Sweetest Thing (38 page)

And yet somehow, he still managed to smell good. Guy good. She didn’t understand it, but everything about him reminded her
that she was a woman. And that she
hadn’t had sex in far too long. “Seems a little early even for you,” she said.

“Could say the same for you.”

Something in his voice caused a little niggle of suspicion. “Got a lot of things to mix up for the day spa I’m running later.”

His eyes never wavered from hers. “Or…?”

Crap. Crap, he was onto her, and nerves quivered in her belly. “Or what?” she asked casually, shifting to get down off the
counter.

Sawyer moved before she could, blocking her escape.

“Romantic,” she said dryly, even as her heart began to pound. His hips wedged between her legs, one hand on her thigh, the
other on her opposite ankle, holding her in place. “Don’t I even get breakfast first?”

“You’re bleeding through your sweatpants.” He shoved the sweats back up her legs to her knees, careful to avoid the wounds.
His eyes fixed on the deep gashes.

She tried to pull free, but he tightened his grip on her thigh. “Hold still.” He looked over the injuries, expression grim.
“Explain.”

“Um, I fell getting out of bed?”

He lifted his head and pinned her with his sharp gaze. “Try again, without the question mark.”

“I fell hiking.”

“Yeah, and I have some swamp land to sell you.”

“Hey, I could be telling the truth.”

“You don’t hike, Chloe. It aggravates your asthma.”

Actually, as it turned out,
living
aggravated her asthma.

Sawyer bent to look more closely, pushing her hand
away when she tried to block his view. “Steel,” he said. “Steel fencing, I’m guessing. Probably rusted.”

Her heart stopped. He knew. It seemed impossible, she’d been so careful, but
he knew
.

“You need a tetanus shot.” He straightened, but didn’t move from between her legs or let her go. “And a keeper,” he added
tightly. “Where are the dogs, Chloe?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Except that she did. She knew because she’d spent long hours the night before with
her best friend Lance, procuring the very two dogs he’d just mentioned.

AKA stealing them.

But in her defense, it had been a matter of life and death. The young pit bulls belonged to a guy named Nick Raybo, who’d
planned on fighting them for sport. What Chloe and Lance had done had undoubtedly saved the dogs’ lives, but also had been
good-old-fashioned breaking and entering. And since B&E wasn’t legal…

Sawyer waited her out, and for the record, he was good at it. As big and bad as he was, he had more patience than Job, a result
no doubt of his years behind the badge and hearing every outrageous story under the sun. And like probably thousands before
her, Chloe caved like a cheap suitcase. “The dogs are with Lance.”

He stared at her for one stunned beat. “Jesus, Chloe.”

“They were going to die!”

His expression still said one-hundred-percent cop but there was a very slight softening. “You should have called me,” he said.

Maybe, she thought. “And you would have done what? They hadn’t begun the fighting yet, so you couldn’t have
taken the dogs off the property. And they were going to fight them tonight, Sawyer.” Even now it made her feel sick. “They
were going to pit them against each other, to the death.”

Her voice cracked a little but he didn’t comment on that as he once again bent his head and studied the gouges on her legs.
He’d been right about how she’d gotten them—it had happened when she’d crawled beneath the fence behind Lance as they’d made
their escape. She held her breath, not knowing what he’d do. Sawyer could arrest her, certainly. But he didn’t reach for his
cuffs or cite her Miranda rights. “These are deep,” was all he said.

She let out a breath. “They’re not so bad.”

“You clean them out?” He ran a long, callused finger down her calf alongside one particularly nasty gash, and she shivered.
Not from pain. Maybe it was her exhaustion, or hell, maybe it was just from having him stand so close, but the stoic, tough-guy
thing was really doing it for her. He was, after all, a little on edge and sweaty, and a whole lot hot and sexy, and utterly
without her permission, her brain began to play a “Stern Cop And The Bad Girl” fantasy…

“Chloe.”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

His expression a little wary now, he repeated himself. “Did you clean these out?”

“Yes, sir.”

He slid her a look, and she smiled innocently, but clearly she needed to have her hormone levels checked when she got her
tetanus booster because she was
way
too aware of the heat and strength of him emanating
through his uniform, not to mention the matching heat washing through her. Which was especially annoying because she had a
personal decree that she
never
dated uptight, unbending men, particularly ones with badges. “Also, I just mixed up some natural antibiotic cream and used
it.”

The back door opened again, and Chloe nearly jumped right out of her skin. Not Sawyer. Nothing ruffled him. Hell, he probably
had sex without getting ruffled.

No, she thought, glancing up into his eyes. That wasn’t true. Sawyer would have no qualms about getting ruffled, and a little
shiver racked her body just as Maddie walked into the kitchen, followed by her fiancé, Jax.

Maddie took one look at Sawyer wedged between her sister’s thighs and stopped short so fast that Jax plowed into the back
of her. “What’s this?” she asked, shocked. Not that Chloe could blame her, as typically she and Sawyer didn’t share space
well. In fact, usually when forced into close proximity, they resembled two tigers circling each other, teeth bared.

“I’m not sure what it is,” Jax said, taking in the scene. “But it looks like fun.” Jax was tall, lean, and on a mission as
he skirted around Maddie. He poured himself a coffee and came directly toward Chloe, reaching for the drawer beneath her right
thigh. “Can you move her leg?” he asked Sawyer. “I need a spoon, man.”

Mouth still agog, Maddie plopped down into a chair. She waggled a finger between Chloe and Sawyer. “So you two are…?”

“No!” Chloe said and shoved at Sawyer, who still didn’t budge. The two-hundred-plus lug was bent over
her left calf again—it was the worst one—his hair brushing the insides of her thighs. She told herself
not
to think about how the silky strands of his hair would feel on her bare skin, but it was too late, and she shivered again.

Sawyer looked up at her sharply. “You might actually need stitches.”

With a horrified gasp, Maddie hopped up to come look. Seconds later, Chloe had her sister, her sister’s fiancé, and the man
she didn’t quite know how to categorize at all, standing far too close, staring at her injuries. She tried to close her legs
but couldn’t, and tossed up her hands. “They’re just scratches!”

“Oh, Chloe,” Maddie murmured, concern creasing her brow. “Honey, you should have called me. What happened, and where else
are you hurt?”

Sawyer’s gaze ran over Chloe’s entire body now, as if he could see through her sweats. A very naughty part of her brain considered
telling him that the scratches went further up her legs and beyond just so he’d demand a more thorough inspection.

Bad brain. Because at just the thought, her chest tightened, and she had to reach for her inhaler. Damn the stupid asthma
that always kept her slightly breathless.

And sexless. “It’s nothing,” she said to them. “I’m fine.”

“She and Lance rescued two dogs from the McCarthy place last night,” Sawyer told Maddie, ratting Chloe out as he gave Jax
a light shove to back off.

“I can’t believe how dangerous that was, Chloe,” Maddie said, worry heavy in her voice.

Guilt tugged at Chloe. She couldn’t believe how much
she’d grown to care about the two strangers that were her half-sisters, or for that matter, about Lucky Harbor and the people
in it. The fact that Chloe had let down her guard enough to care at all was new.

When it had been just her and her mom, the lessons had been clear: connections weren’t meant to last past the overnight camping
pass. Only traditionalists let themselves get trapped by things like boring relationships or full-time jobs. The special people,
like Chloe and Phoebe, were destined to spread their wings and live life fully and freely.

“Raybo is crazy,” Maddie said. “It could have gotten ugly.” Maddie moved to get coffee.

Chloe wished Sawyer would move too, and gave him a nudge with her foot. Actually, it might have been more like a kick. Didn’t
matter, he was a mountain.

“It’s awfully hot in here,” Maddie said and opened the window.

“It’s called sexual tension,” Jax said with an eyebrow wriggle in Sawyer’s and Chloe’s direction.

Humor from the Peanut Gallery.

Sawyer sent Jax the sort of long, level look that undoubtedly had bad guys peeing in their pants, but Jax just kept grinning.
“If
I
was going to make a move on a woman like that, I’d at least have bought her breakfast first.”

“That’s what I said,” Chloe said.

Maddie plopped into Jax’s lap to cuddle up to him. “You made
plenty
of moves on me before you ever bought me breakfast.”

“I’m not making moves,” Sawyer said.

Maddie and Jax stared pointedly at his position between Chloe’s thighs.

Lifting his hands like he’d just realized he’d been touching a live wire, Sawyer backed up. “
No
moves. And I’m going to bed now. Alone.”

“You know what your problem is?” Jax asked him. “You don’t know how to have fun. Haven’t for a long time.”

“Does this…” Sawyer pointed in the general vicinity of Chloe’s lower body, “look anything like
fun
to you?”

Jax choked back a snort, and even Maddie bit her lower lip to hide a smile.

“Jesus,” Sawyer said. “You know what I mean.”

Chloe was pretty sure he’d meant the sorry mess she’d made of her legs, as well as the risks she’d taken last night, but she
said “
hey
” anyway in token protest. Because dammit, her lower half could be lots of fun.

If she ever got to use it, that is.

I know it’s right out of the Romancing The Stone opening credits, but I do usually get a little teary when writing the final
scene of a book. Maybe my heart and head are fried from months of storytelling, maybe the looming deadline gets the best of
me, or maybe I just adore a good Happily Ever After and can’t resist writing one that tugs at my heartstrings.

But when I wrote SHIVER OF FEAR, I admit I shed some serious waterworks—and not just because the hero, Marc Rossi, has found
true love after never believing he could again… and the heroine, Devyn Sterling, is finally part of a big, happy family after
a lifetime of loneliness. I was emotional because I set the scene during La Vigilia, also known to Italian families as The
Feast of the
Seven Fishes. What better place for a happy ending than around the dining room table during a meal that has deep personal
meaning for me and for most members of a big Italian clan? No, I’m not Italian by descent, but my husband is “first generation”—the
son of an immigrant and, therefore, deeply entrenched in some of the country’s best customs. I have no doubt that the fictional
blended family that peppers the pages of The Guardian Angelinos series would embrace this time-honored tradition as we do.

No one really knows the origin of the required “seven” fishes that are served on Christmas Eve in Italian families. Some say
the number reflects the seven sacraments and others believe the “fishes” represent the seven hills of Rome. It doesn’t matter,
because most of us go way past seven that night. From the scungilli salad to the baccala amalfi and all of the salmon, swordfish,
clams, scallops, shrimp, lobster, and calamari in between… it’s a night to celebrate the gifts of the sea and the season.
I rarely make it through the evening without looking around at my loved ones, blinking back a tear of gratitude, and going
back for seconds on the lobster.

During an earlier scene in SHIVER OF FEAR, I used Marc’s description of the evening to highlight Devyn’s aching for a family
and intensify her belief that she isn’t destined to have that kind of love in her life. While he takes the tradition for granted,
she is left to imagine the magic of that night and the warmth that comes from
celebrating with food and family. Most of the story is set in Northern Ireland, where Devyn and Marc are on a hunt to find
her birth mother and discover a hornet’s nest of terrorist activity along with an unexpected attraction that soon blooms into
love. But when it came time to give the reader the ultimate dolce moment—the sweet dessert of a lifetime together—it seemed
natural to set that scene on a snowy Christmas Eve with the loud, laughing, loving Angelino and Rossi families gathered to
celebrate.

So, I wiped a few tears when I typed “the end” of SHIVER OF FEAR and hoped that whatever traditions my readers honor and celebrate,
they can relate to the atmosphere of joy that fills a home during The Feast of the Seven Fishes. If nothing else, I’ll send
them all out in search of good seafood!