Page 162 of Wicked Fantasies

She sighed softly and closed her eyes. There wouldn’t be a next time. She was in the midst of her very first, and likely only, one-night stand. She lazily stroked his thigh, her mind drifting aimlessly over that thought, fighting back the depression that accompanied it.

He’d stopped on a sports channel and was watching some basketball game recap. It had been a long time since she’d even seen a sporting event on TV, generally breezing through them straight to the repeats of her favorite sitcoms. Her fingers encountered his scar and she stopped, touching the puckered bit of flesh.

“How were you shot?” she asked, rising up on her elbow, suddenly aware she’d never asked him about the injury that had brought him into her life.

He glanced down and noticed where her attention had fallen. He muted the game and grimaced. “I was the first man on the scene at a breaking and entering. Instead of waiting for backup, I decided I could handle things alone.”

“I take it that was a bad decision.”

He nodded. “I knew another patrol car was on the way and would be there in five minutes, tops. I figured I’d get a head start. Snuck in the back door with my gun drawn and caught the two thieves red-handed, trying to lift the stereo.”

“Sounds okay so far,” she said.

“I didn’t see the third guy come out of the kitchen. He pulled his gun as I turned to point mine at him. He was faster.”

Her heart raced at the idea of Ethan being in such danger. Suddenly, his job as a hot cop didn’t seem so cool.

“What happened then?”

“Backup arrived. They rounded up the bad guys and called the ambulance.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”

He grinned. “Tell me about it. Thing is they were just young guys. I think the one who pulled the trigger was as surprised he shot me as I was. They were thieves, not killers. Gotta tell you, though, there’s nothing like getting shot to adjust a man’s priorities in life.”

“How so?” she asked, sitting up beside him. He pulled her legs across his lap and she fought against the growing arousal that struck any time he touched her. His gesture had been a friendly, innocent one, but it was taking all the concentration in her body to focus on his words and not on his hand draped across her thigh.

“Until my injury, my life was pretty simple. Work my ass off all week in a job I thought was the most important thing in the world. Then I’d get drunk and laid all weekend.”

Well, that got her attention.

“Ah, a womanizer, eh?” she asked.

He narrowed his eyes but dismissed her teasing barb. “Yeah, well. I’m not proud of it, but there it is. If there’s a pickup line out there, I can pretty much assure you, I’ve used it.”

Giggling, she said, “Oh no, tell me you never tried the ‘What’s your sign, baby?’ on someone.”

His shoulders shook with his laughter. “God, Rach. You kill me sometimes. No, I never used that line. Think it sort of died out a generation or two before I was born.”

“Damn. I knew it was just a matter of time before the age jokes came out. For your information, that line was passé for me too. Disco had pretty much died out before I hit elementary school. So what was your best pickup line?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m too embarrassed to tell you.”

“Now you have to. What was it?”

“Howyoudoin‘?” he said, in his best impersonation of Joey fromFriends.

“Shut. Up. Please tell me women didn’t actually fall for that.”

“Hey, what can I say? I’d throw it out there just like that, laugh at the end, maybe flex the big guns,” he flexed his muscles, “and they’d fall all over themselves around me.”

“Good God. Cocky much?”

He shrugged good-naturedly before sobering up. “Like I said, I’m not exactly proud of it.”

She looked closely at him and realized that what he said was true. “So what part of your life changed after the shooting?”

“All of it,” he said softly. She studied his face, wishing she could read the expression there. Sadness? Regret? “I figured out there’s a hell of a lot more to life than work and sex. That damn bullet made me realize I’m not immortal.”

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