Page 18 of Crazy for You (Loco, Texas 1)

He almost smiled back. Almost. “Deana, is there somewhere I can take you to stay for the night? Anyone who can come be with you?”

As she gave him a siren’s smile, he knew she was up to no good. Slowly, she looped her arms over the back of his neck again, and the press of her breasts against his chest was worse than any torture ever devised.

“You. You can stay with me.”

He couldn’t move as she leaned up on her tiptoes, plastering her body to his, and planted a kiss that had his socks officially trying to jump off his feet.

Wrapping his arms around her, he squeezed her around the waist as he returned the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers as he deepened it. Drunk or not, all he could think about was the warmth and sweetness as he thrust his tongue inside, melding with hers in a slow dance.

Despite the chilly fall air, he was burning up, and he wanted to get her inside, strip her down, and make love to her so well it would melt any leftover grudges she might be fostering.

Picking her up in his arms again, he carried her up the walkway, breaking the kiss only so he could open the door to her little house.

Only he realized he needn’t have bothered. Her front door was already wide open.

Registering the implications, Finn dropped Deana to her feet, ignoring her confusion.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Shh. Your door’s open.” He pulled his flashlight off his utility belt and unclipped the holster on his gun, slipping it into his palm. Positioning the gun under the flashlight, he used his foot to push the door open farther.

“Try the light and stay close, all right?” He stepped into the house with Deana close behind. The entryway light flipped on above him as he assessed the house for any signs of disturbance. There was nothing out of place in the small, cozy living room or the square kitchen with the attached laundry room.

“Does anything look disturbed?” He opened the bathroom door in the hallway, but it looked tidy as well.

“No. Maybe I forgot to shut it when I left? Or didn’t shut it all the way?” she suggested, but he could hear the high-pitched quality to her voice, signaling her fear.

He rounded into the bedroom and was so surprised by the sight that greeted him, he almost lowered his gun. “Shit.”

“What?” She tried to see around him, but he kept blocking her.

Whoever had broken in had dumped her entire underwear drawer on the bed, shredding the rest of her clothes. Her dresser had been tipped over and the drawers flung about the room. White cotton and springs erupted from the hole in the mattress, and across the wall in red was a single word:

Whore.

“Don’t touch anything.”

He went to check her bathroom out, which he cleared along with the closets and under the bed. He hit the button on his radio, watching her wide eyes take in the destruction.

“Yes, this is Officer Meyers, I need to report a break-in at 1236 Lone Star Road. Send backup.” Releasing his radio, he holstered his gun and slipped his flashlight into his belt before he went back to her.

Suddenly, Deana’s face drained of color. “Salem.” Louder, she called out again, “Salem!”

Without warning, she ran down the hallway, screaming for what he could only assume was her pet.

“Deana, wait!” He chased after her and caught her searching under her couch frantically. “Are you sure he’s not outside?”

“No. No,” she whimpered.

“Maybe he escaped when the door was left open.”

Deana dashed at her cheeks as she looked around the living room, shaking her head. “Salem is afraid of outside. I could leave the door open all day, and he just stands in the entryway, meowing.”

Finn had a hard time believing a cat wouldn’t escape outside to hunt mice the first chance he got, but he started looking with her.

Just as red and blue lights flashed in the window, Deana let out a glad cry. “Salem! Oh, baby! I was so worried.”

Finn watched as Deana bent over the base of a potted plant and saw the hole in it. He was briefly distracted by her lacy panties before she stood with a huge black cat that had to weigh damn near twenty pounds.

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