Page 6 of Gentle Persuasion

“None for me, thanks,” Morgan groaned as he pushed himself away from the table. “Everything was delicious, honey.” He hobbled into the living room to catch the late-evening news.

Buddy took his second helping in hand and began a none-too-grateful exit. He stumbled over a chair just as he was taking a bite of shortcake. A strawberry plopped out of his bowl and onto the floor.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, picked up the berry, looked at it, shrugged and then licked it clean before stuffing it into his mouth.

Cole rolled his eyes and laughed as Debbie spluttered, “For pity’s sake, Buddy, you don’t have to eat off the floor!”

Buddy grinned and disappeared into his room, chewing with relish.

“He’s not only lacking in manners,” Cole laughed, “but he’s also totally unconcerned with germs. The only virus that panics my brother is a computer virus. He has so many safeguards built into his computer programs that, from time to time, he even locks himself out.”

Debbie caught her breath. It was the first time she’d ever seen Cole laugh so freely. It changed the somber expression in his dark eyes to one of devilment and joy. She definitely liked the latter expression more. Then she smiled as Cole turned to gather the rest of the dirty dishes from the dining table. Buddy wasn’t the only Brownfield wearing his dessert.

Debbie’s hand caught and cupped the side of his face. His eyes narrowed as he warily allowed her the familiarity. She turned him toward her, teasing as her finger swiped at the corner of his mouth.

“You saving this for anything special?” she laughed, waving the bit of whipped cream in his face.

“For you,” he said and, without thinking, grabbed her finger and guided it to her lips. Oh hell, Cole thought, as he watched her lips purse around her own finger and suck slowly at the stolen sweetness, why did I just do that?

“Thank you very much,” Debbie said.

Her slow drawl kicked his hormones into gear, but he wisely ignored them as he answered, “You’re welcome.”

Chagrin enveloped him at the depth of emotion he felt just being around her.

Debbie stared, lost in the confused passion lurking in his eyes. He wanted her. That much she knew. But he hadn’t admitted it to himself. She knew that, too. However, wanting wasn’t enough for her. She would have love, or nothing at all.

Cole blinked and took a step backward. He had to. If he hadn’t, he would have taken far too many steps forward and Deborah Jean Randall would have been in his arms.

“Dammit, Little Red,” he whispered, “you should be declared illegal.”

Debbie tilted her face, looked him straight in the eyes, and answered softly, “What I’m wondering is what are you going to do about it, Cole Brownfield?”

Cole sucked in his breath. Muscles he didn’t even know he had tied themselves into knots. His fingers clenched. He couldn’t decide whether to wrap them around her neck or thread them through her hair. She’d pushed him just about as far as he was going to push. He stepped forward.

The phone rang—loudly, repeatedly. He jerked, spun around, and almost yanked it off the wall.

“Hello?”

“Saved by the bell,” Debbie whispered as she began clearing up the remnants of their meal.

Cole’s eyes narrowed sharply as his partner began a familiar recital. He listened, cataloging the events that Rick was sharing that related to one of their ongoing investigations. He filed it in his memory along with the way Debbie’s hips swayed beneath her shorts as she stepped from table to cabinet and back again and the way her breasts tilted upward as she stretched, replacing the salt and pepper shakers and condiments in the upper cabinet shelves. He could tell by the way she was ignoring him that she knew he wasn’t ignoring her.

“Can you come pick me up?” Cole asked.

His question definitely got Debbie’s attention. She turned around, eyes wide and nervous, a dish towel dangling limply from her fingers as she stared at the serious expression on his face.

“I’ll be ready,” he said, and hung up.

He looked long and hard at the near panic lurking in Debbie’s eyes. It was the single reason he’d sworn to stay unmarried. This fear was something a cop’s wife had to live with. It wasn’t something he was ready to share.

“I’ll be back late,” Cole explained. “And, it’s just as well. Whatever you thought was about to happen here, girl, didn’t. It’s not going to either, so you may as well wipe that look off your face.”

“What look?” Debbie asked, tilting her chin mutinously.

“That one,” Cole said. His guttural growl sent waves of nervous tension dancing up her backbone as he gripped her shoulders and turned her to face a mirror hanging over the dining table.

They stared at each other, silently assessing the reflections of a tall, dark-haired man and the small, curly haired imp at his shoulder.

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