Beneath the Badge (First Responders 4)

He considered her question for a moment, removed his hand from her thigh. “I’m not a particularly nice guy, Lindsay. I’ve seen and done a lot of things. Because of it, sometimes simple things have a weird context for me, that’s all.”

“Are you depressed, Matt?” She put down her chopsticks as she asked the question, suddenly no longer hungry. Matt appeared fun and that fun side seemed to be what appealed to her most. But she knew too well that it could be a cover. A bright face to the world and a troubled mind beneath.

She’d only been eight years old when a troubled mind had won the battle with her mother. That had just been the beginning. There’d been over a decade more of living in a single-parent home where she’d spent too much energy trying to make things good and right. She’d finally made her stand with veterinary medicine rather than medical school. She’d done what she wanted rather than what was expected to make people happy.

“Depressed? I don’t think so.” He frowned into his noodles. “Affected by what I’ve seen? Definitely. These are good noodles.”

Changing the subject. She was partly annoyed and partly relieved.

“You certainly took something out on the bag today,” she replied. “If it’s about yesterday…the animals are all fine, you know. Or they will be.”

“That’s good.” He toyed with his chicken. “It was a harder call than I expected, that’s all. I hate to see any creature abused and defenseless. Seeing those conditions, knowing that guy didn’t care…”

Her heart expanded. There was a depth of compassion to Matt she hadn’t expected beneath the charm he showed the world. If that was what this was about…it was a good thing. Everyone had their way of dealing with bad days. Taking it out on a punching bag sounded pretty healthy and well-adjusted to her.

Then there was the gentle way he’d handled the puppies, the patience he’d shown.

As she took a sip of cool water, he lifted a wad of noodles with his chopsticks. They were nearly to his mouth when a clump fell off and landed on his shirt.

He put down the sticks and looked down at his lap. “Well. That was classy.”

She chuckled as he picked up the offending noodles and threw them on a spare napkin. The sauce left a greasy brown mark down the middle of his white T-shirt.

He got up off the stool. “Looks like I’m going to have to change again.”

She nodded, looking up at him and catching his gaze. Something forbidden swirled through her down low, a longing so strong that it nearly took her breath. She rarely dated. She could count the sum total of her partners on one hand and she was past thirty. But Matt Parker made her feel carnal. He was a potent combination of masculinity and confidence, and it had been a long time since she’d let herself be close to someone.

She slid off the stool so she was facing him. Her heart beat faster, jumping against her ribs as she swallowed and held his gaze. She remembered his assessment of her that first night at Jake’s. “Neat and tidy,” he’d said. “Order and control.”

And that was generally true, but sometimes a girl got an itch she felt like scratching. And while she also remembered commenting that he was more complicated than he let on, she knew Matt Parker wasn’t looking for anything deep or long term. And that suited her just fine.

She reached out and put her palm against the soft cotton of his shirt. “You’d better get this off, then. That’s likely to stain.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Lindsay,” he warned, but she slid her fingers down the center of his chest to where the hem of the T-shirt touched the button of his jeans.

“This is only our second date,” he said, his voice husky and intimate.

“Technically, we haven’t been on any dates. So who’s counting?” She smiled saucily. “You don’t strike me as the kind to have rules about that sort of thing.”

“You do.”

She shrugged. “You might be surprised.” She did have a rebellious streak that reared its head now and again. This seemed as good a time as any. It had been a heck of a dry spell.

She slid her hand up his arm and over his shoulder and gripped the fabric in her fingers. She gave it a tug and he leaned forward a little and somehow the tee seemed to slide right off his skin. She held it in her fingertips for a few moments, once again admiring the taut, lean figure of his torso and shoulders. God, but the man was stacked.

The shirt fell to the floor.

“I thought you said the stain would set,” he said, but there was a note of anticipation in his voice, riding over her nerve endings like satin.

“What stain?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. She reached out and touched a fingertip to the top ridge of his abs. “How long’d it take you to get these?” she asked.

Apparently he wasn’t about to let her stall. “Shut up, Dr. Swan,” he instructed, and put his hands on her hips, pulling her closer until her tummy was pressed against the hard zipper of his jeans.

“Shutting up, Officer,” she whispered, running her hand over his smooth, warm skin. She touched her lips to the soft spot between his shoulder and pecs and he took a quick breath. He wasn’t as in control as he wanted her to believe, and she delighted in the knowledge. Maybe they were both in for a few surprises.

Then she squealed as he swooped his arm beneath her knees and lifted her up. “You haven’t seen the bedroom yet,” he pointed out, and as she looped her arms around his neck he kicked the T-shirt out of the way and carried her out of the kitchen.

Chapter Three