Page 31 of Wine and Research
He’d found it in his squad car when he’d parked it and went through it an hour ago. Instead of leaving it in his desk and giving it to her when she arrived at the precinct in the morning, he’d taken it home with him.
Stupid, yeah, but he was going with his gut, and his gut told him that he needed to see her tonight.
So, he’d gone home, grabbed a quick shower to wash away the stink of smoke and the soot from his body, and was now pulling up to her cabin in the woods. Unannounced.
And possibly unwanted.
Maybe there was something in her notes she needed for writing tonight, he reasoned in a piss-poor attempt to solidify his excuse for showing up at her place.
It was thin, very thin, but it was all he had…other than the truth.
He needed to see her. Needed to touch her and make sure she wasn’t still going through adrenaline withdrawal alone.
Without an outlet, it could be brutal.
As he exited his Jeep and walked to her porch, notebook in hand, Jeremy knew there was a better than good chance that Elle was fine now.
The woman was strong, stronger than anyone he’d ever known. Losing both parents and going through life alone, building a career with no support system…Damn, she was remarkable. He’d felt something tighten in his chest, and it had taken him a moment to speak when she’d recounted it to him in the car earlier that day.
That tightening had yet to ease up.
She’d given him the impression she rarely opened up about her personal life, and the fact Elle had shared something so personal with him made him feel, well, special.
He gave his head a shake, thankful his buddies weren’t privy to his thoughts because they wouldn’t hesitate to call him a pussy.
Butspecialwas the only word to encompass how she made him feel. Hell, the woman was responsible for making him feel a lot of things. Like right now. He was worried about her.
Even though today’s events weren’t tragic—thank God—they were still enough to make a person feel as if they’d tripped into another dimension. He hated the thought of her going through that by herself.
Especially when there was no need.
He was there for her.
Literally.
Straightening his spine, Jeremy knocked on the door, ready to be there for her if she wanted. But when two minutes went by and she didn’t answer, despite the fact he was parked behind her car in the driveway, his concern for her tripled.
Jeremy knocked again, louder.
“Elle? Are you there?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
Thankfully, he’d heard her muffled “I’m coming”, and it went a long way to calming the pulse pounding in his ears.
Then the guilt set in.
Shit.
What if she’d been sleeping? Or deep in thought writing?
He hadn’t meant to interrupt any of that and was prepared to tell her when she opened the door, dripping wet in a sexy-as-hell dark blue bikini.
The words left his mind, along with his blood supply, which about-faced and rushed south to his other head. His brain wasn’t the only part of him thickening.
Damn, she was gorgeous, and her slick, curvy body gave him ideas. Ideas he shouldn’t have. Not that he needed more. Her auburn hair was piled up onto her head, held there by some kind of clip, but several pieces escaped to stick to her wet neck and shoulders, reminding him of the numerous dreams he had of her over the past year.
Or it could just be Elle. The mesmerizing woman made him think of sex. Raw, wild, unrestrained sex.
“Jeremy…hi,” she greeted, her voice sounding breathless, while her gaze met his for a long, endless beat.
