How To Land Her Lawman. Teresa Southwick

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How To Land Her Lawman - Teresa  Southwick


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cause for alarm, just appreciation for a good-looking man. But it was still more evidence that she needed to ratchet up this flirtation in order to put him in her past where he belonged.

      “Do you want a bottle of water?”

      Will straightened slowly, clearly checking out her legs as he did. She was wearing a stretchy pink shirt over her sports bra and black spandex capris that fit her like a second skin. And she’d give anything to know if he liked what he saw. Darn sunglasses.

      “I can throw in a cup of coffee,” she offered, “and a muffin baked fresh this morning.”

      “Blueberry? Like you used to make?” There was a husky quality to his voice that amped up the sexy factor.

      “Yes. Did that sweeten the pot?”

      “Not really. You had me at water.” He grinned. “But I wouldn’t say no to a muffin.”

      That was why she’d made them. He’d always raved about her baking. If the spandex hadn’t worked, muffins were her fallback strategy. The way to a man’s heart through his stomach and all that.

      “Come on in.”

      He followed her into the house, where she grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator, then handed one to him. He twisted the top off, then drank deeply, again one of those profoundly masculine movements that made her heart skip.

      This was where she got it in a big way that the last time she’d kissed a guy had been longer ago than she could recall. The resulting knot of yearning wasn’t a flaw in the plan, she told herself with a confidence that took some work.

      “I’ll turn on the coffee.”

      “Can I help?” He sat on one of the high stools at the bar separating kitchen and family rooms.

      “No. Thanks.”

      Water and coffee grounds were ready to go; she only had to flip the switch. As soon as she did a sizzling sound started and almost instantly the rich coffee aroma filled the room.

      “You’ve made some changes since the last time I was here,” he commented.

      “Yeah.” She looked around the kitchen. This place was where she’d spent her teenage years. Now it was part of her inheritance, although she’d give it up in a heartbeat to have her mother back. “I updated the cupboards and changed the countertops to granite. Along with the house, my mom left me a little money and after I got the shop up and running there was enough left to do a few things.”

      “It looks good.”

      “I like it.” She reached up into one of the cupboards and pulled out two mugs—one that said I Don’t Do Mornings and the other sporting the Seattle city skyline, including Space Needle.

      “Have you been to the Pacific Northwest?” he asked.

      “Yeah. I went with a friend.”

      “Anyone I know?”

      “Don’t think so. Joe moved here after you left for Chicago.” She poured coffee in the Seattle mug and handed it to him. “Do you still take it black?”

      “Yup. Do you still drink yours the sissy way?”

      “Of course. Cream and sugar.” She smiled at the memory of how he used to tease her about this. “But these days it’s nonfat and sugar substitute.”

      “Why?”

      “A girl has to watch her figure.”

      “Some girls maybe, but not you. Guys will do that for you.” Maybe it was wishful thinking but it sounded like there was a slight edge to his voice. “What does Joe do?”

      “Construction. While he was here.” She handed him a paper plate with a muffin on it.

      “Does that mean he’s gone?” He folded the cupcake paper down and took a bite of muffin.

      “Yeah. He went back to Seattle. It’s where he’s from. We went there to visit his family.”

      “Do you keep in touch?” Definitely an edgy sarcasm in his tone.

      “No.” She poured cream in her coffee, then took the container and put it back in the refrigerator. When she turned back, she caught him staring at her butt and legs. And if her feminine instincts weren’t completely rusted out, she was pretty sure he approved of what he saw. “There was no point. Long-distance relationships don’t work.”

      “April—”

      She held up a hand. “That wasn’t a dig at you. Really, Will. It’s just the truth.”

      He looked at her over the rim of his mug as he took a sip. “Okay.” Then he glanced at his watch. “I have to get going. On duty in a little while.”

      “I guess peacekeeping is a seven-day-a-week job,” she said.

      “’Fraid so.” He stood. “Thanks for the coffee and muffin. We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

      “I’d like that.” She walked him to the door. “Bye, Will.”

      “See you.”

      She watched him walk over to his house and remembered the approval on his face when he’d checked her out. A glow radiated through her and it wasn’t just about the fact that her revenge plan was back on track.

      No, this was about the fact that Will wasn’t completely neutral where she was concerned. It was personally satisfying and she looked forward to more.

      * * *

      “I swear Luke and I are going to Vegas for a quickie wedding.” Kim plopped herself down on the couch in the family room.

      Will picked up the remote and muted the sound of the baseball game on TV. He’d only turned it on to keep himself from thinking about April. It wasn’t working very well. The memory of her in those tight black running pants had his mind on things it had no business being on. The White Sox could wait. His sister, on the other hand, was on the verge of a meltdown if not already there.

      “What’s wrong?”

      “Everything.” She threw up her hands dramatically.

      “Where’s Dad?”

      “At the movies with Tim. You’re it, big brother. There’s no one else here to deal with me. I don’t need a big wedding. A small backyard barbecue would be perfect, don’t you think? Or even something at the park. Easy peasy.”

      “You know you want a big wedding,” Will reminded her.

      “Why? What was I thinking?”

      “That you’ve never been married before and you’re only doing this once, so it’s going to be a blowout affair.”

      “That’s a direct quote, isn’t it?” she asked.

      “Yup.” He looked at her beside him. “You said it the night before Dad had his surgery.”

      “Talk is cheap. Making a grand pronouncement is a lot easier than taking the steps to make it happen.”

      “Talk is cheap. But I can’t help if you don’t spit it out, Kimmie. What specifically is making you freak out?”

      Tears welled in her blue eyes. “I got a call from the bridal shop. My dress is back-ordered and might not arrive in time.”

      “So pick out another dress.” When big, fat tears started rolling down her cheeks, he knew that was the wrong thing to say. “Hey, come here.”

      She slid over and leaned her head on his shoulder. “It’s just...I w-wanted that dress.”

      “And it might be fine. Back-ordered isn’t a definite not going to happen. But maybe you can pick out a runner-up just in case?”

      “That’s way too sensible.” She sniffled and probably


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