His kiss, much like the man, both tempted and irritated her. And for the very same reason. She wanted more. More of him, more of the way he made her feel, made her smile. Made her think beyond the boundaries she’d set for herself. His lips demanded an answer she gave; she stepped in, slipped an arm around his waist and for a long, unending moment, let herself surrender to the what-if.
When he lifted his mouth, he didn’t move away. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her face and resisted the urge to reach up, begin again. Instead, she lowered her head until her forehead rested against his chest. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
“Can’t and shouldn’t are two different things.” His fingers slipped into the length of her hair.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Yes, he was right. But it was more than that. So much more. She couldn’t afford to feel like this; she didn’t want to. Falling for him, falling for anyone, meant giving up control, surrendering, not to mention the potentially devastating landing.
“Frankie?” She heard it in his voice, the underlying question telling her to argue with him, asking her to push aside unwritten regulation and even simple logic.
She stepped out of his arms. “Phoebe’s waiting for me.” Before he could say anything, she turned and walked away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
KISSING FRANKIE BETTENCOURT was supposed to get her out of his system.
It did not work.
Instead of wondering what it would be like to hold her in his arms, he knew. Now Roman was plagued with thoughts of making it happen again. And again. And not at the most appropriate times.
But where he appeared to be having problems working around their moonlight escapade, Frankie, it seemed, did not. If he hadn’t been a part of that kiss, he might have thought he’d dreamed it given how easily she appeared to have put it out of her head.
They’d had their share of calls in recent days, but luckily, nothing serious. A couple of fender benders, an accidental fall and a preteen who had waded too far out into the surf.
On the brighter side, Shirley and her daughter, Amelia, would be back in their house in another week or so. BethAnn Bottomley had rallied the troops and was working with the insurance company to promptly pay to repair the fire and water damage to the kitchen. Kendall was doing most of the construction, and Lori Bradley had corralled all the kids at the community center to hold a fund-raiser movie night to help the family cover extra costs.
While he remained on call for emergencies, Roman was enjoying his weekends off, especially yesterday’s fishing excursion on Monty’s new catamaran. Roman hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the male camaraderie he’d avoided at his previous jobs and, after spending a good eight hours with Monty, Luke, Jason Corwin, Xander Costas and Fletcher Bradley, the last of his unease over moving to a new state, a new town, evaporated.
It didn’t hurt that he’d come back with three good-size halibut, which he’d cleaned, gutted and stored in the deep freezer at the station.
Bright and early Sunday morning, he found himself standing in front of the youth center at the edge of town, a white paper bag filled with doughnuts in one hand, a tray holding two coffees in the other.
“Cold morning, there, Chief. You want to come inside?” Jake Gordon, the former sheriff and current operator of the youth center, hobbled down the road, wooden cane in hand to aid the decades-old injury that had changed more than just his life.
“I was hoping to.” Roman stepped back to admire the rebuilt exterior of what he’d heard had at one time been the town’s old meeting hall. Neglected and boarded up for years, it was Jake and Sheriff Luke Saxon who had taken on refurbishing and expanding the building to give the increasing number of kids in town a place to hang out, preferably productively. Word was they were looking for a new location, something significantly larger to accommodate the programming and hours they had planned. In the meantime, it was decked to the nines with thick pine garlands and frosted pinecones topped with tiny red bows.
Jake, shorter than Roman by at least a foot, shot a friendly smile at him as he unlocked the double doors. “Sorry I’m late. Finalizing wedding plans over breakfast.”
“I heard you’re getting married on New Year’s.” Roman followed him inside and set down the coffee and doughnuts while Jake flicked on the lights. The hardwood floors gleamed. The space was well organized. The Christmas tree in the corner displayed various wishes from kids in Butterfly Harbor and neighboring towns, some of which ranged from a collection of comic books to a new jacket.
Wishes, his father had often told him, went hand in hand with the season and had, for most of Roman’s life, played a major role in their celebrations. Every year growing up, his father and he had sat down before Thanksgiving dinner and written down various wishes they hoped would come true in the coming weeks. Some of those wishes, written on paper ornaments, had ended up on the tree later that night. Others he tucked under his pillow or stored in the drawer by his bed. Knowing firsthand the power of someone acknowledging your wishes and doing their best to make them come true, Roman plucked half a dozen from the youth center’s tree and tucked them into his pocket.