Fool's Gold Collection Volume 4: Halfway There / Just One Kiss / Two of a Kind / Three Little Words. Susan Mallery
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“I, uh—”
Denise nodded, blinking back tears. “I’ve been praying for this. He was so upset when he left. Of course he was.” She glanced at Patience. “I blame Maeve. I’ve forgiven her, of course. Still, did he have to stay gone? It’s been years and years. I know his work is dangerous—he won’t talk about it. He emails. Because an email is as good as a visit?”
She turned back to Justice. “Then you came here and decided to open your business. I can’t thank you enough.”
“We, uh, thought—”
She nodded and wiped her cheeks. “I know. It wasn’t all you. But I was starting to think he would never come back and now he’ll be here. I have to make sure he never leaves again.”
Poor Ford, Patience thought. She hoped he knew what he was getting into by returning to his hometown.
“Thank you,” Denise said, then lunged forward.
Patience was sure Justice knew a dozen moves to ward off his friend’s mother. But instead of using any of them, he simply endured the long hug.
When he was finally free, he managed a strangled “You’re welcome.”
Denise sniffed. “I remember when you were just a teenager, Justice. You were a good friend to Ford. I’m glad you found your way back here.” She smiled at Patience, waved and left.
Patience turned to Justice. “Always the hero.”
He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Mrs. Hendrix is very enthusiastic.”
“We’re all adults and you just had a significant body press from her. You should probably call her Denise.”
He winced. “I think Mrs. Hendrix is more appropriate.”
She grinned, delighted with his obvious discomfort. She liked knowing the very together and powerful Justice Garrett could be rattled by a middle-aged mother of six. “Uh-huh. She terrifies you.”
“Just a little.”
She started to laugh. “It’s always fun when a tough-guy facade cracks.”
His gaze narrowed. “You know a lot of tough guys?”
“You’re my first, but it’s way more appealing than I thought it would be. Just so you know—later I’m going to ask you to show me how to disarm someone with a Q-tip.”
“Why are you afraid of someone with a Q-tip?”
She crossed to him and put her hands on her hips. “Very funny. You know what I mean.”
“I do and a Q-tip is a pretty silly weapon.”
“A spoon, then.”
“You can do a lot with a spoon.”
As he spoke, he put his hands on her waist, drawing her against him. She went willingly, aware of the sudden interest from her girl parts. She was conscious of the danger, but the possibility of being left seemed less significant now that they were standing so close. And the possibility of him kissing her again seemed so much more important.
They weren’t touching anywhere good. At least not yet. But she was close enough to feel the heat of him.
He was tall and broad and strong and should be someone who made her nervous. Only he didn’t. It was probably their past. Because she’d adored the boy, she trusted the man. She’d been predisposed to like him from the second he’d returned to her life. She could only hope he wouldn’t prove to be yet another romantic mistake.
She gazed into his eyes, noting the various colors of blue that made up his irises. His lashes were slightly darker than his hair. With his chiseled chin and high cheekbones, he was handsome but still masculine. All in all, an impressive package.
“What on earth are you doing in this tiny town?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you have settled down in Paris or New York?”
“My French sucks and Angel hates New York.”
Good information but it didn’t answer the real question. Probably because she hadn’t asked it.
Are you going to break my heart? That’s what she really wanted to know.
Apparently Justice was a mind reader in addition to his other bodyguard-based skills, because his gaze intensified.
“I’m not one of the good guys. You have to know that.”
She wasn’t sure if he meant the information was common knowledge or that it was important for her to realize the fact. In the end, she supposed it didn’t matter.
“Does it occur to you by saying that, you’re proving the opposite?” she asked.
He moved his hands to the bottom of her T-shirt. He pulled on the fabric, studying the design. “Flamingos?”
“They’re fun birds who love a good martini.”
“I can see that.”
His gaze locked with hers. He raised his arms and slid his fingers through her hair. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”
She supposed she should be quiet and let him work through the problem on his own. However, the answer seemed obvious and she couldn’t help saying, “Kiss me.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Still cupping her head, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She rested her hands against his chest and let her eyes sink closed. The feel of his mouth—soft, yet firm, anchored her in place. In the space of a single heartbeat, she knew surrender was inevitable. Maybe not today, but soon. When he asked, she would say yes. Not because of how long it had been but because this was Justice and she’d felt connected to him for half her life.
There would be consequences. There were always consequences. She would figure out a way to keep her heart safe. But that was for later....
She tilted her head, then slid her hands up to his shoulders. He dropped his to her hips and drew her against him. Even as his tongue slipped inside and brushed against hers, his fingers settled on her rear and squeezed.
She sank against him, letting his body cradle hers. The deep kisses stirred her senses. She traced his shoulders, then moved down his arms, wanting to feel all of him. Need took on a frantic edge.
He moved his head so he could press his lips to her jaw, and then he eased down to her ear where he bit on the lobe. Jolts of need and hunger burned through her and he licked the sensitive spot right below her ear.
At the same time he shifted his hands to her waist and began to move them higher. Her breath caught in anticipation. He kissed his way down her neck. She let her head fall back and waited for his fingers to touch her—
He straightened, dropping his hands to his sides. Her eyes snapped open. Passion darkened his eyes, but along with the desire was a determination. The question was a determination about what? To avoid the obvious next step? Because she was ready. More than ready. She was eager.
She dropped her gaze and saw what looked like a very impressive erection straining against the front of his jeans. Okay, that was good. She wasn’t the only one panting here.
“I’m not who you think.”
The statement came out of nowhere and took her a second to process. “Because you used to be a woman?”
The tension in his face eased. He gave a raw laugh. “No. Because of my past. What I’ve done and seen. It’s complicated.”
She wanted to argue with him. To say it was simple. So simple they should take off all their clothes and just get to it. But advice from friends suddenly popped into her head. Something along the lines of when a guy tells you he’s flawed, it’s important to listen.
A man admitting he had never