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a clear indication of my intentions. I'm not gonna hide how I feel for you. They can go
take a flying leap for all I care."
Her stomach flipped at his assertion. Bold and determined to take what he deemed
his, no matter the consequences? Unfathomable! "You can't mean it, Gavin!"
A warm, strong hand covered hers and his thumb soothed circles on her knuckles. "I
do baby. Is there anything I can do to prove it?" A smile pulled at his mouth, flinty sparks
of devilish intentions lit up his sky-blue eyes. "Want me to wear a sign around my neck
with the words, 'Investigator Hyatt's smoking hot lover?'
Cassidy giggled at the inane image. She had no doubt in her mind he would wear
something like that for her.
"I'm not against bucking the system, Cass. If needs be, I'll call in the union cavalry,
set the big-wigs into a groveling frenzy. But I will not act as if I don't have feelings for
you."
She shrugged and said, "I don't want to bring us any trouble."
Gavin chucked her under the chin, and crossed the space keeping them apart. His lips
brushed her mouth fleetingly. "Cass, it will work out. Whether the case is dismissed,
continued for later, or goes to trial as planned. We will hold to what we feel for each
other and let the cards fall as they may." He traced her lips with the rough pad of his
thumb, her tongue slid out and soothed the tingle his touch incited.
"I like that idea," she finally replied.
"Me too, baby." He inhaled slowly and added, "I'm going to hate seeing you work
with some of the other detectives, though. They can be real dicks."
Wrapping her fingers around his wrist, she brought their conjoined hands down to
her lap. With a chuckle at his pun, she said, "I have previously worked with them all,
Gavin. That isn't going to change."
He narrowed his eyes on her, his lips twisting indignantly. "Doesn't mean I have to
like it. Live with it, yeah. But I'll do my best not to act like a caveman."
Cassidy smirked at his concession. "I'm not too keen on seeing you with any of the
fawning investigators either," she shared truthfully.
"They have no appeal to me any longer, Cass, I only want you."
A tentative joy sprang to life within her. She mentally curbed her optimism, still a
little bit wary but feeling more confident as the night passed by.
"What a way to celebrate the holiday," she said drolly.
"Do you want me to take you back to the pub so you can celebrate your Irish roots?"
he asked cautiously.
"Don't you know, everyone is Irish on Saint Patrick's Day?" she responded with a
grin. "Besides, we can party here, by ourselves. I think it's time for an Irish Kiss."
He licked his lips, straightening from his position. "I like the sound of that."
Before she could utter an explanation, one of his hands came behind her neck,
cupping her nape and hauled her forward. Their mouths met, his persistent tongue tracing
the seam until she opened to his questing sweeps.
Slow, intoxicating, his provocative explorations engulfed her senses, lighting them
up with each lingering touch. He sipped at her mouth and pressed hard kisses against her
swollen lips. Gently, he soothed the burn with a moist stroke of his tongue.
He tilted her head and pulled back a sliver on an inch, staring down at her. "Cass,
you are like a drug, intoxicating me until I'm mindless with need for you."
Cassidy rubbed her mouth fervently to his. "It's intense for me too," she whispered
against his warm flesh. "But this isn't the Irish Kiss I meant."
She felt his smile as he drifted to the side and nipped the corner of her mouth.
"Oh, yeah? What did you mean?" She heard the excitement in his hoarse query.
Eager to explain, she glanced up into his vivid, cobalt stare. "It is a traditional Saint
Patrick's Day cocktail. I have all the ingredients for it, too."
A devilish twinkle in his eye and a wide smirk made Gavin look devastatingly
gorgeous. "You stay here. I'll get the mixings. What do I need?"
Cassidy blinked at his sudden change of demeanor. The sensuality remained but it
had turned into playful veneer. She wondered what he might be concocting in those
wicked thoughts of his. "There is a bottle of chilled champagne in the fridge. The Bailey's
is in the door, too. You need the Midori on the top shelf of the pantry as well. I have the
glasses in the hutch. Bring it all back in here and I'll do the mixing."
He repeated the specifics and added, "Why don't you pile all those overstuffed
cushions on the floor by the fireplace? When I get back, I'll start the fire and we can relax
with our drinks there."
Cassidy nodded her agreement. "I like that idea."
After grabbing each of the big, tasseled pillows, she walked to the space he'd
indicated and stacked them for maximum comfort. Eager to get things into a more
romantic setting, she pulled the cord to open the fire screen and piled a few logs onto the
grate. Twisting the gas key, she took a match from the ornate tin box on the mantle.
Striking it, she held it near the igniter and watched as the flames caught with a little
whoosh. Adjusting the level until it crackled with building heat, Cassidy tossed the used
match into the cinders and set the wrought-iron fireplace cover in place. A sweet, smoky
scent wafted from the fire as the dry chestnut woodchips turned to kindling.
Happy with the result, she scooted back and leaned into the fluffy nest she had
created. Lounging in the glow of the flickering flames, she waited for Gavin to return.
Chapter Nine
He came back, holding all three bottles in one large fist. She couldn't even ask about
the missing cups, because his intent look fixed on her, taking in her appearance from the
top of her head to her feet. The way he inspected her left her speechless.
"Gavin, what about the champagne flutes?"
With his shoulders tossed back, he strolled to stand in front of her. Kneeling down,
he set each bottle on the marble hearth. "Nice fire," he said, but he wasn't looking at it.
Cassidy bit the inside of her cheek at his piercing stare. She parted her lips to query
him again, but he reached out and set his finger on her mouth, silencing the question.
His large, capable hand hovered above the white robe material, glancing over the
tight peak of her breast and crossing to the tie at her belly. Plucking at the knot, he pulled
it loose. With an open palm, he moved between both sides and urged them open,
exposing her nakedness to his hungry gaze. The muscles of her stomach trembled with
his tender roaming. He traced around her navel with a calloused fingertip, dragging it
upward and skating into the dip and valley of each fragile rib.
"Beautiful, Cassidy." His hand shaped around the heavy curve of her breast,
kneading lightly and drawing his thumb and finger together at the diamond-hard tip of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]