Page 71 of Enemies in Paradise

To add to my conflicted feelings, I can’t stop thinking about what would it be like to have his arms around me all night. Not more than that; just enough to feel some reassurance and protection in this crazy shift my life has taken.

To quiet all my mixed emotions, I do what I always do. I drive fast. I especially enjoy driving Bear’s Jeep fast.

One thing I’ll miss most if I turn in my badge is speeding, knowing if I get pulled over, I’m not getting ticketed. I’ve been in one high-speed chase, and it was incredible. Best adrenaline rush of my life.

Although, also high on the Adrenaline Rush List—right after when Bear kissed me—is when Bear grabs the side handle as I take a curve going ten miles over the speed limit before I force myself to slow down. It’s dark, the roads are curvy, and it’s a two-lane road—not an LA freeway.

When we pull into his driveway in front of the four-car garage, Bear uncurls his fingers from the handle, his knuckles literally white.

“That was…” he lets out a shaky breath. “Interesting. I didn’t know Jenny could go that fast.”

I’m about to say something, but my brain gets caught onJenny.“Wait, who’s Jenny?”

Bear’s face lights up redder than the stoplight I blew through.

“Is Jenny your Jeep? Did you name your Jeep?” Laughter laces my words, which only makes his cheeks burn darker.

“People name their vehicles all the time. It’s not weird.” Bear fidgets in his seat, looking more uncomfortable than the last guy I interrogated.

“No, they don’t. And, yes, it is.” I pull in my lips, fighting not to burst into giggles.

But also to keep from telling him how adorable it is that a man who looks as though he could crush most guys with his bare hands named his JeepJenny.

“Do you call her Jenny the Jeep or Jenny Jeep or just Jenny?” A giggle escapes.

Bear glares hard at me, and it’s maybe the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

Wait, no. Second sexiest.

Throwing me over his shoulder is the first.

“Jenny. No Just,” he says so seriously that I don’t know he’s teasing until the corner of his mouth pulls up. For the briefest second, we smile at each other. It’s kind of nice.

Then he points to a window above the garage. “That’s where you’ll be staying. Do I have to carry you up the stairs, or will you go willingly?”

My heart skips because I really, really want to say, “Carry me, please.” Instead, I shoot him a sharp glare. He meets mine with one of his own, sending waves of heat through my entire body.

Heat I can’t afford to give into like I did the other night. And I’m definitely in danger of doing that.

My skin still tingles where Bear wrapped his arm around my waist. His biceps pressed against my side. My stomach pressed into the top of his shoulder and collarbone. His beard brushing my face when he threw me over his shoulder. One armed.

Bear threw me over his shoulder, one armed. Like some brutish earl in one of those novels with the bare-chested man on the cover that my mom likes to read. The kind of beast who turns out to be a gentleman deep,deepdown inside, but needs the love of a good woman to bring it out of him.

I’m in the middle of picturing a shirtless lord with Bear’s face, wearing a kilt—a short one—when the real Bear opens my door.

“I can walk!” I put up my hands even though he hasn’t made any damsel-over-the-shoulder moves. “I can walk,” I say more calmly and slide out of the seat.

Stupid romance novels. Why do the men always have to be in kilts? And why am I turned on by the idea of a man in a skirt?

More specifically, by the idea of Bear in a skirt?

Mostspecifically, by the idea of Bear at all?

I glance between him and the light upstairs. There’s no way I can stay in his apartment without laying down some ground rules first—for both of us.

“Before we go anywhere, we need to talk about what happened.” I cross my arms and don’t move from the open car door, even though I’m freezing.

“The pipes bursting?” Bear’s face wrinkles with confusion.

---