“I just wondered if I might stop in and have a chat with the mayor before Chris bails me out.”
“The more you open your mouth, the tougher my job gets, Em. Will you please shut it?”
She gave her brother a cheeky grin. Sick as it was, she was almost enjoying herself. “Don’t make me beat your ass.”
“Great, just make yourself look like a violent crazy person, why don’t you?” Chris grumbled.
“You know, Miss Banks, I think I might be able to arrange a meeting for you.” Parelli looked thoughtful. “Off the record, of course.”
Excitement thrummed through her veins, but when she went to step away from Alex, he held tight. Turning toward him, she reached up and cupped his face. The golden stubble on his cheeks tickled her palms. “You’ve got to let me go with them, Alex.”
“I know.” He lowered his head right there in front of God and everybody and kissed her breathless.
She locked her arms in the small of his back. His solid presence was the only thing keeping her on her feet. His tongue probed her mouth, rubbing against hers and making her body melt. Her head swam as the taste and scent of him enveloped her in a warm cocoon of desire. Had there been more time, she would have been begging him to take her then and there.
He broke off the kiss, both of them breathing hard. “I shouldn’t have left this morning. I was being an ass and I’m sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed you.” Her heart sang at his words. “I have no right to grill you about your personal life.”
“Yes, you do, Emory.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You are my personal life.”
“Kids, can we talk about this later?” Parelli pulled out his phone and looked at the display. “I really have to get back to the station.”
Emory ran the tip of her tongue across her paper-dry lips. She hoped Chris wouldn’t take his time bailing her out, because she was in a hurry to get back here and show Alex how much he meant to her, too. “I’m ready. Let’s get this done.”
Chapter Fourteen
It was cold in what Parelli had called the “holding tank.” From summer outside to winter temperatures inside, the room’s sterile white tile floor and gray cinderblock walls even looked frosty.
Emory sat still as a statue in the plastic chair in front of a metal table. She wondered if they were supposed to be “one size fits all.” Over the years she’d learned that phrase didn’t apply to people who were only five foot four inches tall. That was what made Alex so perfect for her.
A guy like Connor or their doorman Gabriel would squash someone Emory’s size like a bug. Alex was just less than six feet tall and lean. Every inch of him was beautiful muscle covered in golden skin that begged to be tasted.
I should really stop. If they have some kind of thermal camera in here I’m probably all red and orange by now.
The door swung open. Emory instantly recognized the mayor when he walked in. She’d always liked him. He was built tall and thin like a runner, which he was. There were crinkles at the corners of his blue eyes, and his hair was a distinguished steel gray color. He lived in a renovated home just a few blocks away from Emory’s shop. He was a politician who actually lived with the people he represented even though he’d come from a wealthy family.
The local grapevine always whispered about the millions he had tucked away in the bank. Emory didn’t know if any of that was true or not. She just knew a nice guy when she met one.
Strand pulled out a chair and settled himself comfortably at the table. “Officer Parelli suggested I sit and have a chat with you, Miss Banks.”
“You can call me Emory, sir.” A few nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She didn’t want to insult such a nice guy. What if she was totally wrong? “We’ve met before. You come into my shop to order flowers whenever someone in your office has a birthday.”
“That’s right. I thought you looked awfully familiar.” He frowned. “You hardly seem the type to wind up in the city jail. What happened?”
Emory figured it was now or never. “Donovan MacIntyre.”
“I see.”
“I suppose I might be somewhat at fault.” She wanted to be utterly honest. “I did go out with him twice. But after that I’ve tried to make it clear that I have no interest in pursuing any kind of personal relationship. He just seems incapable of getting the message.”
“Yes, he does tend to be rather—determined—when he wants to be.”
Strand’s expression told Emory she was on the right track. “Pardon me, sir, but determination is a positive thing. MacIntyre has been rude, forward, and lately he’s been rather violent and frightening.”