I've shared with you a picture of Sergeant Justin Harrison, right? From my relaunched romantic suspense, NOT WITHOUT RISK...
What you think he looks a bit frustrated? That's because he is...
Justin crossed to the door, held it for her as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. He smiled at the sight of her Cadillac sitting at the curb, its top down in deference to the humid night air, before shifting his gaze to his own car, parked a few feet in front of hers and shining in the light from the street lamp.
Her lips parted as a startled gasp slipped free. Feet still bare, she walked to his car and slowly, one finger at a time, pressed down until her palm lay flat atop the front quarter panel. Even from his distance, he caught her tiny shiver of pleasure. “She’s beautiful.”
Justin watched, transfixed, as she moved around his car, each step forward followed by the gentle slide of her hand across the quarter panel. Down the side, across the rear spoiler and forward once more. Each stroke, each caress of her hand pushed his blood pressure up another notch until he had to steel himself from closing the distance and pulling her into his embrace.
Want consumed him. He wanted her hands on him, not just on his car. He wanted to taste her, feel her, to fist his hands in her hair and sink into her warmth. It’d been too long, far too long since he’d been with a woman—six months, ten days and twenty-two hours to be exact, and he missed it. He missed it more than he missed nicotine, more than he missed being able to draw a deep breath without the slightest twinge of pain.
She looked up and met his gaze across the expanse of the car. A smile curved her lips, brightened her face and lightened her features. Joy, pure, unadulterated joy sparkled in her eyes, warmed her voice. “How long have you had her?”
“About ten years now. I found her in a field behind someone’s house with four flat tires and mold covering the front seat.” Disgust colored her features but her smile did not fade. Justin caught himself before he could return her smile. He shoved his hands into his front pockets.
It’d been a mistake coming here, a mistake he needed to quickly remedy. For years he’d chosen his women for their physical endowments and little else. He liked them blonde and stacked, girls who didn’t expect more from him than a night of pleasure and tempted him in no other sense than the physical. Only since he’d faced down a bullet and lost, he hadn’t been able to even consider enjoying a woman with the same carelessness as before.
He has a killer to find and doesn't need a leggy brunette clouding his investigation.
She wants to know who murdered her friend.
As Paige and Justin try to stay one step ahead of a madman, love comes...Not Without Risk.
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