Page 73 of Sergeant's Christmas Siege

Templeton shrugged out of his cold-weather gear. Then he started toward her. And her heart did that thing again. That low, hard kick filled with a slow, drugging heat, in time with the way he moved.

“This gives us extra time to determine the best strategy to take.” She was pleased with how professional she sounded. How pulled together, when she was still on her first cup of coffee. “The reality is that my father was in a prison cell and therefore couldn’t possibly have personally blown anything up or killed that poor man. Much less attempted to assault or abduct me. We’ll have to wait for Oz’s confirmation, but I think we’ll find that none of my cousins were in the area, either. I would be very surprised if Liberty and Russ took any excursions. And I’d be shocked if Will did much of anything.”

“Fair enough.”

“That means someone else is out there, either doing my father’s bidding or, like Russ and Liberty, interpreting my father’s old wishes to suit themselves.”

“Did you stay up all night thinking about this case?” Templeton asked.

And she’d been so busy congratulating herself on her professionalism that she’d somehow failed to notice how close he’d gotten. He was standing next to her at the counter. Right next to her. She kept expecting him to reach past her and help himself to the coffee he’d made, but he didn’t. He only looked down at her.

All too-dark eyes, those wicked brows, and cheekbones for days.

“Yes,” she lied, and met his gaze as blandly as she could. “I allowed myself some time to process the family emotions it all stirred up and then tried to look at it more analytically. Didn’t you?”

“No, ma’am,” Templeton said, in that drawl that shecould feel all the way down into her toes, so much so that she had to curl them to keep from shuddering. “I was much more focused on picturing you naked. Again.”

“Wh... what?”

She heard herself stutter and would have slapped herself, but she was still holding her coffee mug. Something she remembered only when it nearly slipped out of her suddenly nerveless fingers.

Templeton reached over and gently eased the mug from her grip, then set it down on the counter.

“I think you heard me.”

“What I heard was so inappropriate that I’m sure I must be mistaken.”

“Threaten to shoot me again,” he suggested, grinning slightly. “It’s hot.”

And then he bent his head, snaking one arm around her to haul her toward him, and crushed his mouth to hers.

This time, there was even less build than before.

It was instant immolation.

The shock exploded into need, longing, and the kind of full-bodyyesthat had Kate shooting up on her toes, wrapping her arms around his strong neck, and kissing him like her life depended on it.

He picked her up, high against his body, so it was the easiest thing in the world—and somehow natural—to wrap her legs around his waist. And she understood the benefits of a man like him, built huge and powerful, because he held her as if she weighed nothing at all. He broke the kiss to tilt his head back as he carried her out of the kitchen.

“I figured I’d carry you at some point or another,” he told her, his dark eyes gleaming. “And I do like to be right.”

“Shut up, Templeton.”

He laid her down on the soft rug in the center of the living room. And better still, came right down with her.

And then everything was heat and wonder. Her hands all over him, and his hands on her. Testing, tasting.

She stripped off his T-shirt, humming a little in joy and anticipation at the ridged muscles she exposed. Then she bent to the task of tasting each and every one of them. She thought she could have done that forever, but he lifted her after a while and pulled her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside. Then sent her bra along with it.

And this time, Templeton held her above him. Then tipped her torso toward his mouth so he could get first one nipple against his tongue, then the other.

Sensation streaked through her, like a crackling live wire. She felt his mouth against her breast, and she felt the surge of heat lower still. Between her legs, where she melted and clenched and nearly threw herself over that edge then and there.

They both fumbled with each other’s pants until Templeton laughed, pulled her hands from his waistband, and put them on her own.

“Race me,” he said.

Kate won. But then they both won, because they were naked together.

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