âI have a plan,â Erin said
Brady folded his arms trying to remain in control of the situation. Only, just looking at Erin kept him aroused. âA plan?â
âI was thinking that neither of us really has time for a relationship. But that doesnât mean we donât haveâ¦needs.â She reached up and toyed with his collar. âI thought we both could use a release valve. One with no strings, no demands. Just a safe outlet.â
Brady knew there was nothing safe about Erin Mahoney. Not intellectually and sure as hell not sexually. And yet even as he stood there trying to convince himself he should turn her down, he knew he wouldnât.
So he didnât. Reaching for her, he crushed her lips with his. His hands slid over her curves, his fingers brushing the sides of her breasts as she moaned softly. He settled his hands on her hips, lifting her up. âWrap your legs around me,â he said in a husky voice as he carried her toward the bedroom. âBecause Iâve got some plans of my ownâ¦.â
Dear Reader,
Iâve always been a sucker for a cop story. The suspense, the drama, the fight for justice. Probably because Iâm the daughter of a cop and have been a witness to that life for most of my own. Of course, as I got older, I wanted romance to go along with the suspense and drama. The rugged, hard-nosed detective who gets his manâ¦and then gets his woman! In my case, I got what I wanted, both in the books I read and wrote, and in real life. In fact, it was while researching a story that I met my husband. Heâs not a hard-nosed detective, but I was just as captivated by him as a SWAT team commander.
I hope youâre a sucker for a good cop story, too. I think youâll enjoy watching Erin Mahoney shake up hard-nosed homicide detective Brady OâKeefe. And I know youâll enjoy seeing just how Brady gets his woman.
Happy reading!
Donna Kauffman
P.S. I love to hear from readers.
Check out my Web site at www.donnakauffman.com.
âTHE HANDCUFFS and leather mask could be explained in any number of ways.â Bill Henley swiveled his chair around and gazed out his office window. Fog still hugged the streets of Philadelphia, but Mayor Henley probably wasnât thinking about traffic jams or whether the mist would burn off before his nine oâclock tee off time.
Homicide detective Brady OâKeefe waited impatiently for Henley to come to terms with reality. The mayor was right about the handcuffs and leather mask. But the pink tutu and satin bustier his friend had also been wearing were another matter altogether, not to mention the feather whip. Brady wished for about the hundredth time this morning that the commissioner wasnât in bed with the flu. He should be here holding Henleyâs hand so Brady could get back to solving the cityâs latest murder.
A minute passed, then another. Brady sighed, then spoke quietly but directly. âSir, I did what I could to squash the media coverage. But Sanderson was very well known, andâ¦â He stopped, knowing he didnât have to tell the mayor how bad this was going to look when it hit the papers. And it would hit the papers. Morton Sanderson was a major player in the Philadelphia business community and a chief backer of Henleyâs upcoming reelection campaign. He was also a self-righteous blowhard, notorious for his public drubbing of anyone who fell short of his strict code of morality.
Which made that pink tutu particularly hard to deal with.
âWell, I donât think you or anyone else is going to be able to make this go away or keep it under wraps,â Brady finished. He hated all this political-posturing crap. He wasnât good at pussyfooting around, much less putting positive spins on things that werenât remotely positive. Heâd gotten where he was by focusing on one thing and one thing only: getting to the truth. He stood straighter. âTo be frank, sir, I need to get back to the station. Iâve got interviews lined up all morning and I canât afford to waste time on who is going to write what in the morning papers.â
The mayor swung back around, appearing ready to blast him for his insubordination, but abruptly stopped. His expression turned weary, but it was the real grief in the depths of his eyes that made Brady rein in his impatience.
âJust find out who set him up, OâKeefe,â Henley said quietly. âIâll take care of the media.â
âSir, with respect, there is no indication of a setup. Not yet anyway.â
âI know Mort rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, but I knowâknewâhim better than most. No way did he die in a seedy hotel while taking part in some sort of kinky sex scandal. Thereâs something else going on here. Find the truth, Detective OâKeefe. And find it fast.â