Status Updates From Needing Nita (Serve and Pro...

I love you, you jerk.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I did warn you I could be an as$.”
“I guess you did,” she grumbled.
“Can we get married now?”
“No.”
“Engaged?”
“Not yet.

She closed her eyes. “No, don’t baby. Keep your eyes open. I want you to stay with me while we kiss and whisper and eff.” Something jolted in her chest. He wanted intimacy, not sex. Her throat tightened. “I don’t know how to do this.” “Me neither. But why don’t we just kiss and whisper and eff and see what happens.

God help me, yes. I’m weakening.”
His eyes caught fire. “You’ll marry me?”
“I’ll date you,” she clarified. “I can’t agree to marry a man when I don’t even know if he snores. Or leaves the cap off the toothpaste, or his underwear on the floor.”
“Don’t know, no and no. But fair enough.

She smiled. “You’re not blowing it.” He lifted an eyebrow. “No?” “No.” Her face sobered. “Did you mean it earlier? About … you know … feeling like maybe you were falling in love with me?” “Every word of it.” She frowned. “How can that be?” “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It just is.

I’d say we know each other better than some couples ever do.”
She blushed. “That was sex.”
His eyes glinted. “It sure as hell was. But sex like that … Nita, that doesn’t just happen between strangers. It takes a certain level of trust. It takes an intuitive knowledge of the other.

What was I to you? Some kind of carnival ride you wanted to take? Something to cross off your to-do list before you went to meet the ultimate judge in the sky?” He raked a hand through his hair. “Christ, of course! That’s why we had to squeeze in every fantasy you could think of. You wanted to cross them off...

Ah, but little did she know what he wanted. Okay, sure, little had he known what he wanted until five hours ago. But now he knew. She was for him and he was for her. And soon he’d make her see it. He gathered her closer, kissed the top of her head and promptly fell asleep.

What the hell was wrong with her? What’s wrong with you, Reynolds? You’ve got a tumor in your head that will probably kill you, with or without surgery, in a matter of months, and you’re wondering what’s wrong with you because you wanted to be close to someone for a few minutes? No, not someone. Craig Walker.

No, he was altogether too attractive a package. But at the same time, he scared the hell out of her. He could swallow her up, if she gave him a chance. And no doubt he’d spit her back out when he was finished with her. Of course, that was back when she thought she had a future to worry about.

Craig had died and gone to heaven. That could be the only explanation. Nita Reynolds — the woman who’d turned him down cold on two occasions — had called him out of the blue for a dinner date. Then she’d taken one look at him and decided to jump straight to dessert. It was too good to be true.

One last thing, Detective….”
“What’s that?” “Come prepared.”
He heard her disconnect, but still he sat there with the receiver in hand, her words echoing in his mind. Come prepared. The dial tone kicked in, and he hung up. He was sitting in the middle of the bullpen with a hard on. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so in control.

You’re mother must be proud of you, Nita.”
She snorted. “I don’t think she ever got over her disappointment when I left Highpriced & Pompous to do Legal Aid work."
He grinned at her use of the nickname for the multi-province mega-firm Hightower Ponder.

Brain tumor. A couple of bad headaches, and now they said she had a tumor in her head. Just like her father. She’d only had that MRI because her mother had hounded her within an inch of her life to ask for it. Neuro-imaging was not the medical community’s usual first response to a complaint of migraine with aura, and she’d felt like a major hypochondriac even asking her doctor about it.

Um... Imma need to get the rest of these.

Oh. My. God.