My Sweet Valentine Read online

  “Detective Price.”

  “Hello, Detective. It's Sara. I just received another email.”

  “Sara? Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I'm fine. There's just a picture this time.”

  “I'm sorry. Forward it to me if you would. Do you want me to send someone down there?”

  “No. I'm fine. Besides, we already talked to Robert. He knows what's going on. I just thought I'd let you know before I sent this one to you.”

  “Thanks for calling. If you need anything, don't hesitate to let me know.”

  “I won't. Have a wonderful Christmas.”

  “You, too.”

  Sara hung up the phone and an image of Detective Price’s face came to mind. The man was old enough to be her father. He had kind green eyes and more hair on his chin than on his head. But he'd been there for her the last three years as she’d dealt with the horrors of a madman.

  Forwarding the image to his email, she looked at the image and frowned. She didn't remember having that picture taken of her. She didn't doubt it had been snapped at some party or even at her workplace. The more she looked at the image, the more frustrated she became. She'd hoped she had escaped all the madness by moving home again. But now, it looked like she was destined to be afraid for the rest of her life. Or until he finally made a move. Which according to everything the internet had to say about situations like this, they almost always did.

  Just then there was a loud knock on the glass door, causing her to jump and scream.

  “Sorry!” Allen said from the other side of the locked door. “I saw the light and thought I'd check on you.”

  She sat there, looking across the room at him until her heart settled back into her chest.

  “Um,” he looked at her and smiled. “Can you let me in? It's very cold out here.”

  She shook her head clear and rushed to open the door. “I'm sorry,” she said as he stomped the snow off his boots. “You startled me.”

  He smiled. “It's okay. As I was saying, I saw the light and got worried. The snow's coming down pretty bad out there.”

  She turned and looked out the windows. She hadn't noticed that it had started snowing again. Since the sun had gone down, she'd tried to get as much work done as she could.

  “Oh, it sure is. I only have a few more things to do, then I'll head home.” She hoped he'd take the hint and leave. Instead, he took off his coat and hung it on the hook.

  “Place sure looks different.” He walked around.

  “Yes, everything will be ready for opening day.” She stood by the door, willing herself not to become too anxious. Then she spotted her laptop screen. It was still opened to the nasty picture. Walking over quickly, she slammed the screen shut.

  He turned and looked at her, his eyebrows shot up in question.

  “Is there anything I can help you finish tonight? I want to make sure your car starts this time.”

  “Oh, there's no need. Rusty put in a new battery and assured me everything else is fine.”

  “No trouble at all.” He looked around. “What else do you need to finish tonight?”

  She bit her bottom lip and thought of a million ways of getting him out of the building. But the thought of being alone in the building now caused a shiver to run down her spine. Images of past emails she'd gotten raced through her mind. Any company was better than going into the back room alone and trying to put shelves together all by herself.

  “Well, I have these shelves that need to be put together.”

  “Shelves?” He smiled and clapped his hands together. “Sounds fun. Lead me to them. I'm an expert at putting shelves together.”

  An hour later, she stood over his bent head and laughed. He'd tried to cuss under his breath, but the fact that he'd been frustrated by simple metal shelving caused her to giggle.

  “This should be simple.” He tossed down the instructions. “It shows this bar”—he held up a small stainless steel piece—“going into this slot.” He pointed to the small hole.

  Anyone could tell the two were not made for each other. The bar was twice the size of the hole.

  “What are we doing wrong?” He looked up at her. The sleeves to his long shirt were pulled up, exposing muscular forearms dusted lightly with darker hair.

  She shook her head. “It could be that the only instructions we have are in Spanish.” She looked down at the pamphlet.

  “Nope, I'm pretty good at Spanish. I think they sent us the wrong pieces. I mean, this doesn't even look like this.” He pointed from the piece in his hand to the picture on the paper.

  “Maybe we just need a break.” She stood and stretched her arms above her head, working out any kinks in her shoulders and neck. Her legs were almost numb from sitting on the ground. They'd put the first two shelves together without incident, but the third shelf was different than the first two. This one would hold all her pans so it was thicker and stronger than the first two that would just hold containers of dry goods. “What do you say to some coffee and a piece of pie?” She walked over to the small fridge that temporarily housed her food and looked at him, waiting for an answer.

  “Sounds great.” He looked back down at the instructions and frowned.

  Smiling, she removed the pie plate and walked over to take down two small white plates. She'd been trying out new pie recipes at home during her spare time. Last night she'd made a Boston cream pie, but she'd yet to taste any of it. Grabbing two cups down, she walked over and poured coffee for both of them. Opening the drawer, she smiled when she noticed all the utensils were put away neatly. Just like her, Becca took great pride in doing a job well.

  “Here.” She handed him a plate and cup, then sat next to him again on the floor. “Maybe we are looking at it from the wrong angle.” She tilted her head.

  “What? Like upside down?” He scooped up a bite of pie and shoveled it into his mouth. She could tell he was about to say something, but then stopped cold. His eyes shut and he froze.

  “What?” She waited for him to say something. Anything. Even after years and years of baking, she was always nervous when someone tried something she'd made.

  When his eyes finally opened again, she could see the desire reflected there.

  “Marry me,” he groaned.

  She laughed. “It's that good?”

  “Better.” He scooped up another bite and enjoyed it as well. She looked down at her piece and took a nibble. One of the hardest things about being a baker was keeping the weight off and critiquing your own work.

  When the richness sunk onto her tongue, she tasted all the ingredients. Closing her eyes, she rolled her tongue around and enjoyed the burst of flavors. The richness of the chocolate, the sweet tart of the cream. All in all, the pie was very good. Surely worthy of having on the menu.

  Opening her eyes again, she was shocked to see Allen looking at her. His eyes were focused on her mouth. Thinking she'd left a dab of cream or chocolate on her lips, she quickly darted her tongue out to lick off any dribbles. When she did, she heard him groan. Then he set his plate down next to him and took hers. Without a word, he pulled her closer so that she was half on his lap.

  “I tried to tell myself I didn't come here for this.” He held his mouth an inch from hers. Her heart was beating so loud, she swore he would be able to hear it and feel it against his chest. The anticipation of the kiss was causing her to shake. Finally, he smiled a little and dipped his head towards hers. When their lips met, warmth spread throughout her entire body. She felt her toes curl in her shoes and wanted nothing more than to hold her body next to his for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Four

  She tasted like heaven and felt even better. Her breasts were pushed up against his chest and he could feel her breathing heavily. When she parted her lips, he dipped his tongue in for a taste and moaned at the richness there. Her hands went to his hair and held him closer as his roamed over her hips, pulling her body next to his.

  “You taste even better than the pie.” He
nibbled on her lips and let his mouth roam lower to her neck. When she leaned back, he took the opportunity to move even lower as she let out a low moan.

  “I can't do this.” She said lightly as she ran her hands over his shoulders. “I shouldn't be doing this.”

  He silenced her by taking her mouth again, causing them both to let out a low moan. Her hands traveled to his arms and she pulled back a little. “You make it so I can't think straight.”

  He smiled at her. “That's a good thing sometimes.” He kissed her again quickly and watched her eyes close as she sighed.

  “Sometimes.” Then her eyes opened again and he could see the fog lifting in them. “Right now I have a full plate. I don't have time to stop and enjoy a relationship.”

  He sobered. “There's always time.” She shook her head and pushed away from him, leaving his lap feeling cold and empty without her.

  “I can't take the time. I can't take the chance right now. There's too much riding on what I'm trying to accomplish.”

  He thought about it and decided he might be rushing things a little too fast and nodded his head. “Fair enough. Are you going to the Jordan's Christmas party next week?” He held his breath.

  She looked at him and tilted her head a little. “I was planning on it. Since I moved shortly before they started hosting them, I was looking forward to going.”

  She smiled a little and nodded in agreement. He felt like jumping up and down, but nodded instead and picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “You know, this doesn't mean I'm going to stop wanting to be with you, but the least I can do is help you finish getting your business together. And a good place to start would be getting this damned thing together.” He smiled and watched her relax. “First things first. I'm going to sit here on the floor and finish the best piece of pie I’ve ever had.” She laughed.

  By the next afternoon the snow was melting so fast there was a rush of water flowing down Main Street. The town’s streets had been built over a hundred years ago, so the drainage wasn't what it should be. Robert, the local sheriff, had the bad parts of the road blocked off, but the locals knew which other places to avoid.

  Allen’s team had gotten an early morning call about a fishing boat being hit by some rocks, but by the time they'd gotten there, the small vessel had righted itself and had waved them away. For the most part, locals knew that winter season was the worst, and most personal vessels were docked for the winter. It was the fishing and commercial vessels that Allen was mostly worried about for the next few months.

  Storms could come up quickly. High winds and even the occasional huge wave could easily make the largest of boats look like a small toy. He'd seen it all since arriving in Pride. He'd been trained by the best and had trained some of the best himself. As a pilot, he usually waited the storm out in the cockpit of his bird, but occasionally he'd get wet on a rescue. He liked the thrill of it, enjoyed knowing they'd saved lives. In the five years he'd been with the Coastguard, he'd only lost three and they'd been long gone before he'd arrived on the scene.

  When he'd driven through town early this morning, he'd seen the light on in the bakery. For the entire trip out to the training facility, his mind had been consumed by her. The feel of her, the taste of her caused his system to start working in overdrive. They'd finally gotten her shelf together around eleven last night and he'd followed her the few blocks back to her house. He'd desperately wanted to kiss her again, but refrained from doing so. He knew she had a lot on her plate. Hell, he didn't know half of what it took to start your own business. He’d been here to oversee everything with the training facility, but there had been roughly a hundred contractors who were all getting orders from his commanding officers. All he’d had to do was babysit them and take over when the place was done. He was not only impressed by what she'd accomplished so far, but the fact that she'd been doing it all herself made him realize that maybe she was made of stronger stuff than he'd first thought.

  By the end of his shift, every muscle in his body ached. He was set to play another game of basketball the next day and knew he needed a break. Heading to the Boys and Girls Club, the only place in town that had a public hot tub, he checked in at the front desk and talked to Rickie, the teenage boy on duty for the evening. When he sank into the hot tub, his muscles started relaxing slowly. He could hear the rhythmic sounds of people swimming laps in the large pool beside the tub. Closing his eyes, he counted his heartbeats and waited for everything to slow down. He'd trained himself to control his breathing, control every inch of his body. It helped during those times when he was out on a save and most men would panic.

  By the time he pulled himself out of the hot water half an hour later, his body was totally relaxed. Drying himself off, he almost passed right by her, but the dark streak under the water caused him to stop and watch. Her hair was tied back in a braid. Her long arms and legs carried her through the water quickly and gracefully in a practiced dance. He stood at the end of her lane and smiled when she stopped and looked up through dark blue goggles.

  “Come here often?” He watched her pull the goggles off her eyes and saw surprise cross her face. She looked winded and her checks turned a nice shade of pink. He nodded towards the tub. “Just enjoying the heat a little. It helps with the day's bumps and bruises.”

  “Oh.” She tried to smile. “I was just trying to wind down. Usually a few laps help me clear my head.”

  He sat down on the edge of the diving board and rubbed the towel over his forehead. Water dripped from his hair, running down his chest, and he watched with pleasure as her eyes followed its motion like she was hypnotized by it.

  “I was going to head someplace to eat after. Would you like to join me?” He held out a hand for her to take. She hesitated a moment then put her hand in his. When he pulled her out of the water, he smiled at the one-piece suit she was wearing. She wasn't built like a swimmer, more like a dancer. Her long legs and arms shined with the water glistening off them. Her hand remained in his for a moment, then she dropped her hand and walked over to retrieve her towel. He noticed she looked comfortable in her skin. She didn't try to cover her body and she walked with confidence. Shaking the water from her ears, she smiled at him.

  “Actually, I put a pot roast on earlier. It should be ready right about now. What do you say to having a little home cooking? Of course,” she chuckled, “you'll have to deal with my sister and mother.”

  He smiled. “I'd like to meet them. Sounds great. What do you say to meeting at your place in”—he looked down at his watch—“half an hour?”

  She nodded. “If you can deal with my sister and mother, there might be another slice of something in it for you.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Boston Cream?”

  She shook her head. “Cheesecake.”

  He put his hands over his heart and closed his eyes. “As I've said before, marry me.” She laughed and he knew at that moment he was a goner. Her hair was silky wet and falling in long curly wisps around her face. She didn't have an ounce of makeup on and he swore he'd never seen anything more beautiful than what he was looking at now.

  Half an hour later, he approached her front door feeling like a teenager on his first date. His hands were sweaty, despite the frigid wind blowing off the coast. He didn't know what to expect from her sister or mother. He'd heard of them, but to be honest, he couldn't pick them out of a lineup, even though he'd probably passed by them a dozen times since arriving in Pride.

  When the door flew open, he was greeted by a younger version of Sara. She was a lot taller and her hair was a few shades lighter. They had the same eyes and smile, but he could see something else in her eyes. He could tell that she usually got what she wanted. He remembered seeing her a few times on the beach during the summer with other kids from the school.

  “Hi. Come on in. Sara's just putting the finishing touches on dinner.” He noticed the house was spotless. Even though the furniture was older, it looked like it was in mint condition. The house smelled of
cooking meat and potatoes, something he could appreciate. When he entered the small kitchen, he saw Sara rushing around preparing a salad. An older woman sat in a corner looking at a computer screen through glasses that sat at the end of her nose.

  “Come on in.” Sara turned and smiled at him. Her white apron looked clean and like it had just been pressed.