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Her large brown eyes
zeroed in on him. His heart seized, and he actually craved
to touch her. The expression on her face told him he'd been
the last person she expected to run into. For a brief moment
all her anger slid from her face, and shock replaced it. She
recovered quickly and dismissed him without further look.
Then she strode away, each step displaying her agitation.
She was back. He rotated and kept his gaze glued to her
retreating form.
After all these years of telling himself he was over her, so
often he'd believed he'd managed to convince himself of such
a thing, he’d never been so wrong. All it took was sixty
seconds of seeing her to blow that theory straight to hell.
“You okay there, Carmine?” Shelia asked as she snapped her
fingers in his face.
Not even close. He blinked a few times and nodded. “Yeah,
I'm fine.”
“You know her? She sure seemed to recognize you.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, wanting Shelia and work
to vanish. “Yes, I know her.”
With a shrug, he faced the desk and grabbed a pen. “Let it
go.”
She didn't. Shelia sat on the edge of his desk and said,
“Ex-girlfriend?”
“Back off, Shelia,” he growled. His fingers flexed around
the pen.
The warning lacing his tone was heeded, and she left him
alone with the paperwork. He sped through it. Anxious to get
done and leave. There was somewhere he had to be. He had
risen to his feet even as he finished the last paper.
Hat and coat in hand, Carmine headed for the locker room
where he changed clothes in a flash. Locker closed and
secured, he hefted his bag then proceeded to the garage and
subsequently his truck. He started the powerful diesel and
drummed his fingertips along the steering wheel.
His mind raced, and he shook his head in an effort to clear
it. Expelling a muttered curse, he shifted into gear and
drove his dark blue Dooley out into the torrential downpour.
Ninety-five minutes later, he turned into a drive he'd never
thought he would enter again. While the drive had taken
longer than it should have, courtesy of the storm, he'd
finally made it. The bungalow style house had a warm
welcoming light which shone through the dark, rainy night.
He shut off the headlights yet remained inside the idling
three-quarter ton pickup.
His stomach a mess of knots, he spent another few minutes in
the cab before he shut it down and hopped out. Instantly the
rain plastered his clothes to his skin. He bolted up the
graveled path to the steps and the covered porch. Shaking
the excess water off his cowboy hat, he put it back on then
reached out and rang the doorbell.
“Coming!”
Footsteps preceded the front door swinging open. And just
like that he was face to face with her again. When he'd
first seen her at the station, there had been a room between
them. Now, no more than a few feet.
The woman he'd loved more than anything. The woman he'd
asked to marry him and spend the rest of their lives
together. The woman who turned him down and ran, leaving
town for eight years.
Tiffany “Tiffie” Carver.
A wide swath of emotions ran gamut within him. Anger. Lust.
Passion. And even a bit of betrayal.
More beautiful that he recalled, she'd filled out a bit,
having been blessed with more curves. She'd come into her
own. Up close, right now, she appeared calm and serene as
opposed to the fire breathing dragon who’d stormed from his
captain's office. She wore no makeup, and her black hair had
dark caramel streaks and was pinned up haphazardly. A few
loose strands curled about her oval face.
Her large sepia eyes widened slightly before they cooled. He
leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.
Breaking her stare, he lowered his eyes to linger upon her
full moist lips before sliding back up to meet her gaze.
“Hello, Tiffie.”
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