The Deputy's Lost and Found / Her Second Chance Cop: The Deputy's Lost and Found / Her Second Chance Cop. Stella Bagwell
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until everything became a violent blur.
Releasing a faint sob, she dropped her head in her hands and supped in long, cleansing breaths. If she was actually remembering, she didn’t want any part of it.
“Lass? Are you okay?”
Dropping her hands away from her face, she looked up to see Brady’s sister standing over her. The woman was looking at her with concern and for a moment Lass wondered if she’d unconsciously cried out in fear.
“I … um, my head is starting to pound again. That’s all.” She didn’t want to tell Dallas about her visions just yet. Not until she’d spoken to Brady. He was the one who’d rescued her. He was the one who was working to find her identity. And he was the one she trusted to make some sort of sense of her predicament.
“Oh. I’d better get you back to the house!” With a hand on Lass’s arm, she helped her to her feet. “I’m so sorry, Lass. I’ve probably put too much on you this morning. Brady is going to be furious with me.”
“Bridget is my doctor. Not Brady,” Lass pointed out.
A knowing smile crossed Dallas’s pretty face. “Yes. But my brother considers you his lost and found.”
Dallas’s words should have lent her some sort of comfort. After all, what normal woman wouldn’t want to be tucked under the protective wing of a sexy lawman like Brady?
But Lass wasn’t a typical woman. And after experiencing those strange visions a few moments ago, she feared her hopes for a normal future were in jeopardy.
For the remainder of the day, Lass stuck close to the house and generally tried to relax. But that was difficult to do when her head was spinning with the unbidden images she’d experienced at Dallas’s riding stables. Everything about them had scared and confused her and she was desperate to see Brady again. Not only to tell him what had happened, but also to see his smile, to hear his strong voice assuring her that everything would be all right.
She was sitting on a covered porch at the back of the house, two of the family’s pet cats curled at her feet, when she heard footsteps behind her. Expecting it to be Fiona or Kate inviting her in for drinks, she was more than surprised to see Brady.
“Mom told me where you were,” he explained as he approached her chair. “Why are you sitting out here all by yourself?”
Even though he was still in his work clothes, he looked wonderful to her and before she could contain herself, she jumped to her feet and threw herself against his chest.
“Oh, Brady, I’m so glad you’re home!” she practically sobbed.
His face a mixture of pleasure and confusion, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “Whoa now, Lass, there’s not any need for you to be so worked up. I haven’t had anybody shooting at me today. That was last night.”
Sniffing, she tilted her head back and looked up at him with misty eyes. “I’m sorry for being so … melodramatic, Brady. You must think I’ve lost my mind. And I—” With an anguished groan, she twisted out of his arms and turned her back to him. “I’m afraid I have. I apologize for throwing myself at you like that.”
His low chuckles were suddenly brushing against the back of her neck and suddenly the quivering in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with fear.
“You think you need to apologize for hugging me? I just wished you’d hung on longer.”
His suggestive remark had her swallowing, fighting the urge to turn to him once more. “I don’t think … that would be wise,” she said, her voice breathy and broken.
“Why?”
She couldn’t summon an answer and then it didn’t matter as his hand pushed the curtain of her long hair to one side and his lips settled softly on the back of her neck.
“Because I might do this,” he whispered against her skin. “Or this?”
With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her toward him and all Lass could do was stand motionless and wait for his kiss.
Chapter Six
Since the night Brady had found her in the ditch and propped her limp body in the circle of his arms, he’d wondered how it would feel to hold this woman in a romantic embrace, imagined how her lips would taste. Yet none of those mental images had come close to the actual thing he was experiencing now.
He knew he should be resisting her. He should remember how vulnerable she was, that she looked to him for protection. But she’d made the first move, and he wasn’t the type to refuse a beautiful woman. Especially not this one.
Tucked close against him, her body felt small and soft and incredibly warm, while her lips tasted like sweet fruit. Ripe. Juicy. Delicious. Her hands were planted against his chest and though her fingers were small, they were sending shock waves of heat straight through the fabric of his shirt and onto his skin.
Brady could have stood there kissing her forever if she’d not finally broke the contact of their lips and squirmed her way out of his arms. And even then, as she stood there looking at him with wide, wondrous eyes, he wanted to gather her back against him, to experience the pleasure of her all over again.
“I’m sorry. I … must have sent you the wrong signal,” she finally said in a raw whisper.
He couldn’t stop a grin from lifting one corner of his mouth. “Which time? When you hugged me? Or when you kissed me?”
Groaning with embarrassment, she covered her mouth with her hand. As though he’d just marked her in some way and she didn’t want him or anyone to see the change in her.
“Both times!” she exclaimed, then dropped her hand and stared at him in a beseeching way. “Please forget that. Every bit of it!”
Brady could see she was deadly serious, but still he couldn’t prevent the low chuckles that rippled up in his throat. She was just too precious, too beautiful. “Are you kidding? I’m not about to forget something that wonderful.”
Her nostrils flared and he watched the rapid rise and fall of her bosom as images of her in bed this morning assaulted his already lust-filled brain. The thin red silk had revealed the exact shape of her nipples, the perfect round curves of her breasts. He’d wanted to touch her then. Just as badly as he wanted to touch her now.
“Brady, I need to explain. I—”
“Lass, there’s no need for you to break apart over a little kiss. You’re carrying on as though you’ve never been kissed before,” he teased in an effort to ease the moment. Clearly she was distressed and he didn’t understand exactly why. He knew enough about women to know when one was enjoying being kissed and Lass had clearly been enjoying it.
She grimaced. “I wouldn’t know! I don’t remember what I’ve done in the past! Or who I’ve done it with,” she practically snapped, then shook her head with dismay. “Forgive me, Brady. I … seem to be breaking apart, don’t I? And I’m trying so hard to hold myself together. But this morning—”
She trailed off and Brady stepped forward and reached for her hand. To his relief, she wrapped her fingers around his and held on tightly.
“What about this morning?” he urged. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
Sighing, she closed her eyes. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’ve worked myself up over nothing,” she told him. “But whatever I saw in my mind won’t go away. That must mean it happened. Wouldn’t you think?”
Not fully understanding what she was trying to say, he led her to a wicker love seat shaded by a curtain of morning glory vines.
“Okay, Lass, start over. Are you trying to tell me that you’ve remembered something?”
She nodded soberly. “I think so. But I’m not sure. I was with Dallas at her stables