Page 1 of Leaving Lando

Dancing Around

A bitter Novemberwind whips around me as I hurry down the sidewalk, carrying matching paper bags with twine handles. I'm about to reward myself for a hard day's work by feasting my eyes on the most delectable man-candy in town: detective Lando Adamo.

Every weekday afternoon, once the bakery I run with my sisters has closed, I deliver baked goodies to the police station. The cops get the Callahans' thanks for their public service, and I get to flirt with Lando. Normally, I'd want to do a lot more than flirt with him ... but there's a problem.

Actually, two problems. One of them is named Jade, and the other Romero, and they are my sister and his brother respectively. We all met around the same time, but the two of them went and fell in love, and now Lando and I are stuck with being friends.

But I'm determined to figure out a way to solve our mutual dilemma, because, as I said, Lando's the hottest thing around, and it's not fair that I don't get to roll around with him naked. We're both adults. We could be friends with benefits without anyone getting hurt.

Only one more block to go. I stop at a streetlight, and a fiftyish woman, wrapped in a warm wool coat, eyes my bags and smiles at me. "You're one of the Callahan girls, aren't you?"

I smile back. "Yes, ma'am. Brianna Callahan."

"I'm so glad to see you and your sisters doing well. It was such a shame about your father, and then the farm, but the whole town is rooting for you."

"Thank you, ma'am. We're very grateful for all the support."

"Everything I eat seems to go right to my waist these days, but I let myself have something from your bakery once a week as a special treat. It's all so delicious, and you have such an amazing variety."

The light changes. A gust of wind blows inside my open jacket, making me shiver. "Look at me," she says, "keeping you talking in this cold. We'd best be on our way. Have a good evening."

"You too, and thanks again," I tell her, then pick up the pace as I scurry toward my destination.

It's only been a couple of months since my sisters and I opened Callahan's, not long after our farmhouse was torched. It's been less than a year since our father died. But thanks to some amazing support from people in the community, we've pulled through.

As I reach the police station and circle around to the back, my heart beats faster in anticipation. The building is teeming with cops, both uniformed and plainclothes. I follow a pair of uniforms in, exchanging greetings as I go, and head up the stairs to the detectives' bullpen.

Officially, the goodies I deliver are leftovers, but the truth is that my sisters and I sell out of our entire stock more often than not. So I make extra of some things, or commandeer samples here and there throughout the day, putting them in bakery boxes and then into one of our bags, which are silver with Callahan's on them in a bold green script. It's worth the extra effort to make sure I always have a good selection when I show up.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I enter a packed bullpen to a chorus of cheers. It didn't take long for word about my visits to spread, and now virtually every detective in the department finds a reason to be here at four o'clock.

I make a beeline for Lando's desk, then stop cold. It's empty. He's not here.

A swell of disappointment, and worse, hurt, wrenches at me, but I'm well aware of all the eyes on me, so I only pause for a fraction of a second before I keep right on going, pasting a smile on my face as though it doesn't matter to me at all whether he's around.

Which is a ridiculous lie, and everyone here knows it. They all benefit from my ongoing flirtation with Lando, so no one complains that he gets first pick of whatever I bring, before the rest of the squad falls on the remainder like starving wolves. On the other hand, none of them are under any illusion that I make these trips out of the goodness of my heart.

"Two bags today," Detective Whittier says with approval. "What'd we do to rate that?"

I smile at her. "I kept thinking of things I wanted to try, so y'all are the beneficiaries." Setting the bags down on Lando's desk, I'm about to announce that it's first come, first served today when a pair of strong arms circles my waist.

A large, warm body presses against my back, and at the same instant I smell him, that delicious mix of spice and clean manly sweat that never fails to get my libido revving. The sexiest voice in town says in my ear, "How's my favorite baker?"

My nipples go hard, and I get a throb between my legs. I have to clear my throat before I can answer. "You're just in time," I tell him. "I was about to call open season on today's selection."

"I got held up." One big hand squeezes my hip. "I'd never miss one of your visits." He turns me to face him, and I'm confronted yet again with well over six feet of breathtaking masculine beauty.

Eyes dark as sin and twice as hot take in my appearance before he scowls. "You're wearing a t-shirt in this weather?" He yanks me against him, and I have to hold back a groan as my breasts make full contact with his broad, muscular chest, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through me.

His hands dive under my jacket, and then my shirt, to run up and down my back, rubbing briskly. I bite my lip, my arms wrapped chastely around his waist, willing myself not to blatantly writhe against him in front of all these people.

Lando Adamo shorts out my self-control like no man ever has.

"You're wearing a t-shirt too," I point out when I can speak in something resembling a normal tone. "And no jacket."

"Jacket's hung on the back of my chair. I was in another part of the building, not outside." I'm not facing his desk anymore, but now that he mentions it, I remember seeing it there. "And anyway, I'm a guy. We don't get cold as easily. More muscle."

I can testify -- because I've watched him shoot hoops in nothing but gym shorts and shoes -- that Lando is ripped with a capital R. He is hotter than I am in every sense of that word; being pressed against him is like hugging a furnace.

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