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Stirring Attraction(41)

By:Sara Jane Stone


But maybe he didn’t see it that way. One glance around Dominic, and she saw Josh’s amused smile.

“Glad to see you made it here, man,” Josh said. “Josie called and asked if I’d bring Caroline over just in case you were delayed. Help Lily open the bar and all.”

And babysit her, she thought.

“According to the sign outside,” Josh continued, “this place opens in five. You might want to search the floor later.”

“Noted.” Dominic released her and fixed his pants.

Josh rocked back and forth on his boots, his smile still firmly in place. “Or you could give the college kid peering in the window, hoping for a beer after class, one helluva view.”

“Shouldn’t you be helping the dishwasher?” Dominic shot back.

“Consider this my good deed of the day,” Josh said, his smile broadening. “Though I’m guessing you might feel differently right about now.”

“Josh,” Dominic growled.

“Before you threaten to ‘shut me up’ or something,” Josh said, “remember I have three older brothers. I can take anything you throw at me. Plus, I slept last night. You look like you haven’t had a solid eight hours in weeks.”

Try months.

Josh Summers had a point. She patted Dominic’s chest. “Go home, Dominic, and get some sleep,” she said. “You’re going to need it. Because you’re not staying on the couch tonight.” She leaned up and added in a whisper: “And we won’t be sleeping either.”

She felt the tension ripple through his body. And behind them Josh Summers laughed.

“Lily,” Dominic murmured, looking down at her. He placed his hand over hers. “I’m staying either way. You don’t have to—­”

“I know. I want to.” She pressed her lips to scar on the back of his right hand, still resting on top of hers, covering his heart. Her lips still touching his skin, she added, “I want you.”

Even though I know you’ll leave again.





Chapter Thirteen


I’M AN IDIOT.

Dominic accelerated, pushing the rental car past fifty, fifty-­five, sixty . . . He hit sixty-­five and held steady. He was willing to risk a speeding ticket. Hell, he knew most of the guys on the force. They’d probably let him off with a warning. But he wasn’t going to crash the car because he’d gone and fallen asleep at his dad’s place.

An hour or two, he told himself, just until Noah returned to the bar and took over for Lily. But he’d gone and slept past sunset. It was eight o’clock. Lily had been home for hours, probably wondering where he’d gone, if he’d left . . .

No, she had to know he’d say goodbye. He wouldn’t slip away in the middle of her shift. And he would never leave her afraid.

He stole a glance at the file folder riding shotgun. It held the Salem arrest report and mug shot of the guy who’d attacked the woman in Salem. A detailed report they could review in the morning, after he calmed her down. She had to be terrified by now, alone in her house, after dark.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He slapped his palm against the steering wheel as he turned onto her cul-­de-­sac. Everything was calm, quiet. Lights shone through the windows of the neighboring houses, but Lily’s looked as if she wished to illuminate the whole damn block.

He docked his car in front of her house, the right front wheel riding up onto the curb. Hell, he’d fix it later. Tomorrow. He opened the door and sprinted up the steps. He raised his fist and pounded on the door. And . . . nothing.

“Lily!” he called. “Come to the front, honey.”

He stood under the front porch lights, the side of his fist still resting on the door. He could walk the perimeter of the house, peering in the windows. He had a feeling he’d find her huddled in a corner, trapped by her own damn fears. She needed him. In there. With her. Holding her. Loving her . . .

He stepped back and examined the door. Then he called one more time, “Lily!”

Nothing.

He eyed the keyhole. The door opened in. It wouldn’t take much. Just a well-­placed kick. He raised his right leg and aimed his boot. The door gave a little, but the deadbolt refused to break apart and grant him access. He kicked again.

“Dominic?” He heard her voice on the other side, followed by footsteps.

“I’m right here, Lily,” he called back.

The locks turned. The chain released. And she pulled open the door.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her eyes were wide. He studied her face, searching for signs of the terror he’d witnessed after her nightmare. But she wasn’t pale-­faced and ready to fling herself into his arms. Her long hair spiraled down over her shoulders. The ringlets teased the top of her white bath towel.