Lori Avocato - Dead On Arrival

I faltered. The damn nickname. Then I pulled my shoulders straight and gathered up every ounce of hormone-free sanity that I could muster. “I didn’t do anything.” This time I pushed him enough to get myself to the other side of the porch. “Nothing. I got lost and you sound as if I did something…something wrong. And don’t touch me like that.” Okay, that last bit was overkill, but I knew if he touched me I might crumble.

Now, mind you, I was not some namby-pamby weak female. Nope. But any female would crumble around a tower of testosterone like ER-and she’d probably love it.

Suddenly ER Dano was no longer appearing as a threat.

Damn it. Nope. Now he stood a few feet away, looking oh-so-handsome and delicious in the moon’s glow. How romantic. The only thing was, Dano might be a criminal, a liar and…a killer.

Naw.

My gut was denying all of that as nonsense, and I had to mentally agree. So, I took a step forward and said, “If you’re so burned out on your job as a paramedic, why stick around TLC?” I needed to get to know him, spend some time around him-okay, make time with him. Yum.

Even he looked surprised at my candor-which, by the way, came out sounding very professional and intelligent.

At first he paused for a few uncomfortable moments.

To think of a lie?

Then he stepped closer and took both of my arms into his hands. “Good question, Nightingale. As I said, my bucket has holes in it.”

“Hmm?” His sincere tone had me speechless.

“You know. My bucket of all the crap that I see, have to deal with and have to do something about. It has holes. As each day’s work filters out, it’s inevitably replaced-and often with things that are much worse.”

ER Dano’s eyes darkened more and tears formed-which had to be killing him to keep from flowing.

My old nurse’s nurturing nature kicked in-as usual against my will-and before I could think logically, my nursing nature had me turning the tide, and now I was holding ER Dano in my arms.

At first he tensed. A sympathetic guy. Wasn’t that an oxymoron? One thing about Dano I was certain, he never wanted anyone’s help. The guy was a powerhouse of self-investment. Clearly he didn’t want to feel beholden to anyone or as if he needed anyone.

He appeared so strong, and yet, I’d bet my paycheck (much-needed paycheck) that he had a teeny, tiny streak of softness in him.

I wondered what Dano’s past relationships were like because I surmised that he definitely didn’t want to be leaning on a woman.

But I held him closer.

His warm breath breezed across my neck. Ah. Suddenly I thought it might be hard to comfort him-if my damn mind couldn’t keep this Platonic?…His lips were on mine and the word no longer had any meaning. Pla…what?

Dano’s mouth covered mine. I sighed.

Then he eased his arms around me. I felt secure in his hold, and leaned into him. Oh, my.

I sighed.

When I reminded myself that I was on Stella Sokol’s porch, I snuck a peek past Dano’s shoulder. Good. No one. No one was in the doorway, in the window or within listening distance.

So, I stretched up and returned Dano’s kiss.

Oh, my was right.

Dano’s hand ran down my back and a hitch in my breath filled the air. Not caring if anyone hurried outside to find out what the hell that noise was, I ran kisses along his cheek while running my hands through his hair.

“You smell good, Nightingale.” His voice was rough in an ER Dano sort of way, but an underlying tenderness, sensuality, in fact, made my knees weak.

I couldn’t think of the words to express my appreciation of the comment. I was way too busy.

And it’d been way too long since I’d been kissed like this. Jagger’s kisses had been specifically Jagger kisses-wonderful, delicious, confusing and mysterious. And not that I’d trade them for these, but right now, ER Dano’s said reality.

And I sure as hell wanted/needed reality.

“We should go inside.” ER Dano eased back from me, and I walked in a semi-trance into my mother’s house.

The guy had class and concern. I’m sure he didn’t want to take advantage of me out on my parents’ porch-no matter that I wanted him to! Hey, Stella Sokol would probably celebrate that her only single daughter was getting some. Getting some? Surely my mother would not use that phrase, but then again, she did change all my undies to thongs once when I was out of town working a case.

We nonchalantly walked back into the dining room, me with Dano’s hand on the small of my back.

Everyone in the room stared at me with that look of “Pauline just had sex” on their faces.

Or so I imagined.

Actually, only my mother had that look, and I wasn’t sure if she was internally applauding me (her thirty-something, only single offspring) or giving me the evil eye-igniting my Catholic school-induced conscience.

“What’s for dessert, Ma?” I asked, using the nickname she hated, then feeling like a jerk for using it, since everyone glared at me.

“We had chocolate cake before, Pauline,” my mother said in a very condescending tone.

I was about to argue-okay, with nothing to argue about-but smiled weakly instead, and ER Dano stepped forward. “I have to rush off now. Fantastic meal, Mrs. S. Thanks so much for including us.” ER Dano poked Buzz on the shoulder, who must have been on his fourth piece of cake, and walked toward the front door, mumbling his thanks with Lilla right behind.

I leaned against the doorjamb watching them go for a second, then remembered who the heck I was, ran back to my chair and grabbed my purse, blew a kiss to my mom and followed them.

“Good night, Daddy,” I yelled, passing the living room.

Once outside, Dano gave Buzz a dirty look when he followed suit. So after Buzz said ’bye to me and went to his car, and Lilla left in hers, Dano turned to me and said, “Dinner tomorrow night. Around seven. After the memorial service and get-together at Pansy’s place.”

My jaw dropped but I managed a nod, not sure if the idea that he’d kinda ordered me on a date with him was so shocking, or if I was thinking about how the memorial service would be a great time for me to snoop at Pansy’s place.

Next morning, I opened the front door of my condo and nearly passed out.

Now I knew what the term swooned meant.

Jagger stood there in a black suit-a classy one that said Armani, though I was no fashionista to be able to tell the difference. He looked more like we were heading to some fancy-schmancy restaurant for a candlelit dinner than a memorial service.

He looked that delicious.

And what really made my day was how he looked at me. As if I were a tasty morsel too. Not that I was aiming for sexy at a memorial service, but the only little black dress that I owned was a slinky Jones New York with three-quarter-length sleeves and a V-neck that allowed a sampling of cleavage.

I did look tasty.

Jagger stood there for a second, brushed past me and said, “Ready?”

I smiled. “I’m ready, and the car is that way.” I pointed behind him.

Without a word, he walked toward the kitchen. “Any more phone messages?”

Damn. I’d nearly forgotten it. “No. Maybe that was just a fluke. Someone playing a joke.”

“Murderers don’t joke, Pauline.”

“Gee. Thanks for that.” I followed him into the kitchen, where I found him petting Spanky.

I think Jagger actually looked forward to seeing the dog. Maybe Spanky was the only thing that could ground Jagger in reality. Give him a sense of family. Pets were amazing.

“We need to go, or we’ll be late.”

He patted Spanky on the head, turned and walked past me again. As I followed him out to his SUV, I thought of what an odd scene that had just been.